#please do heed the warnings folks
Text
cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)
pairing: jungkook x fem reader
summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.
genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au
word count: 13.7k
warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling
a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now
...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below
taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it
sources for the fic dividers: one | two
link to part 1
you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.
jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.
a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"
yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”
“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.
“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.
yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?
“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”
“the fuck are you talking about?”
“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”
“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”
yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”
feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”
“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.
yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”
you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.
“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.
even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.
the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.
“i think i should sleep here,” he says.
“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.
“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”
“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”
jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”
“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.
“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”
“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”
“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”
after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”
you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”
--
SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4
you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.
you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.
you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.
as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.
you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.
it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.
➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.
➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.
➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.
➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.
➤ y/n: a lockdown???
looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”
“tryna get the remote.”
jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.
➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.
you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.
you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”
➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?
➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.
➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.
➤ camille: You too.
“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”
you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”
“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”
“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”
“better than deluding yourself about it.”
“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”
jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”
wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”
jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”
later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.
it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.
“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.
“what about me and jungkook?”
“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”
you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.
“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”
you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”
yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.
the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.
“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”
when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.
“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”
“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”
“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”
“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”
you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.
yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”
“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”
yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”
you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”
yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.
“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”
“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”
“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.
the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.
you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.
you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.
the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.
there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.
“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.
there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.
but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?
you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.
speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.
“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”
“no, i…”
“what happened?”
“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”
“y/n.”
“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”
“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”
“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”
jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”
you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”
“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.
“…a baseball bat?”
“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”
“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.
in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.
he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.
--
MONDAY, NOV 6
you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.
you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.
right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.
eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.
jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”
“night, sis.”
when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.
after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.
“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”
jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”
“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”
you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.
this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”
“so damn corny.”
you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.
as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”
you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.
neither of you speak for a few long moments.
“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.
“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”
you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”
“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.
“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”
he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”
your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.
“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.
here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”
jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”
you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.
“jungkook…”
“hm?”
“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.
jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”
“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.
“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”
you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”
his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”
“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.
“ugh, don’t turn me off.”
“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.
jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.
when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.
jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.
“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.
“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.
he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”
you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.
jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.
after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.
“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.
“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.
he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”
“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.
“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.
you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”
“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.
it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.
eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.
your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.
“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.
“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.
jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.
you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.
his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.
when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.
“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”
jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”
“that’s not an answer.”
“well, it’s my answer.”
“was i another one to knock off your list?”
“you think i have a list?”
“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”
jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”
you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”
--
TUESDAY, NOV 7
with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.
she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.
but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.
she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.
what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.
the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.
he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.
he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”
“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.
the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.
“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.
“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”
now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.
“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.
leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”
“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”
“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.
lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”
“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.
it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.
“now, be still while i fix you up.”
--
WEDNESDAY, NOV 8
you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.
you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.
inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.
you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.
there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”
you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.
there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.
--
SUNDAY, NOV 12
in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.
you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.
lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.
when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.
jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.
“is it finished?” he asks.
“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”
you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”
“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.
you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.
“y/n…”
“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”
“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”
“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.
“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.
you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.
the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.
jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.
“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"
“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"
“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”
you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.
“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.
you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.
fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”
the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”
you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”
“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”
--
FRIDAY, NOV 17
jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.
nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.
your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.
jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.
“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.
“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”
“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”
“y/n—” camille starts.
“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.
“what?”
“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.
“blood?”
“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.
you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”
one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”
“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.
“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.
her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.
“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”
“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.
“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”
you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”
as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.
“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.
you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”
“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”
“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”
“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”
you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.
--
LYING IN WAIT...
it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.
the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.
there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.
reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.
everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.
up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.
sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.
camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”
“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”
“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”
“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”
camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”
“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.
--
WEDNESDAY, NOV 22
“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.
you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”
“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.
“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”
“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.
camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.
“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.
you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.
the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.
“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.
there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.
the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”
even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.
“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.
he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”
your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.
the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.
not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”
through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”
jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”
“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.
yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.
you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”
“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.
you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.
“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”
you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.
“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”
“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.
yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”
you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”
“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”
jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”
he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”
“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”
jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:
you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.
you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.
you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.
you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.
“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.
trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh. while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.
your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.
these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.
“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.
you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.
you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.
you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.
he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.
“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”
it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.
“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.
this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.
you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.
“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.
you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.
you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.
you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.
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a safe haven | three
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
series masterlist | previous chapter l next chapter
summary: You and Joel get to know each other better and the two of you share a private moment out behind the barn under the stars; an unexpected guest shows up to the party; Tommy gives Joel a second and final warning about you.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) MENTIONS AND IMPLICATIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE/ABUSE. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. alcohol consumption, mutual pining and yearning, Joel sings to reader a bit (that is its own warning), soft Joel, overprotective Joel, and a slight hint of jealous Joel. Tommy seems like kind of an asshole but he’s just trying to look out for his brother, okay?
word count 6.6k
About an hour later, after tossing back about three or four bottles of Seth’s crappy beer, you’d started feeling a lot livelier and a lot more like yourself. It was a glass of his delicious, oak-barrel aged whiskey that you had wanted more than anything, but with Esther over at the bar openly flirting up a storm with Joel Miller, you pushed down the desire for scotch and settled for the bitter lager instead.
It tasted awful, but it did the job well enough. The best part was that the bottles of beer were all readily available in coolers all around the barn, and you didn’t need to go up to the bar to get one.
The last thing you’d wanted was to find out what was going on between Esther and Joel.
“And the next thing you know, poor John is being chased all around the chicken coop by a bunch of broody hens!” Martha finishes her story, throwing her hands up in the air. “God, I wish I would’ve had a camcorder in hand. It was the funniest thing I ever did see in almost two damn decades.”
Everyone sitting around the table bursts into a fit of loud, hearty laughter.
“Oh okay, so then that would probably explain why there weren’t many eggs in stock at the market the other morning,” you tease, only fueling the commotion.
John glares at you, and you shrug innocently, fighting back another laugh. Six foot two with big, broad shoulders and arms, you found it both very difficult and very amusing to picture the bulky blond man being chased around by a flock of pissed off chickens.
“I’d really like to see any of you guys try and take a broody hen’s eggs away from her with ease!” John huffs out before taking a gulp of his beer. He’s red in the face, and it’s hard to tell if it’s from the alcohol or the embarrassment. “Assholes.”
Martha leans over, whispering, “See? I told you it would make him mad.”
You giggle, lightly shaking your head at her. “Talk about ruffling some feathers, huh?”
She snorts into her plate of potatoes, jabbing her elbow into your side. “Let’s stop before he really gets all riled up, or else we’re going to get an earful.”
“Oh come on, John. Lighten up,” you grin over at him from across the table. “I know what’ll make you feel better. You guys want to hear a really, and I mean really embarrassing story?” You pause for a second or two, just long enough for everyone to nod eagerly. “Let me tell you about what Stella did to me the other day in her stall when I tried to take her temperature, it was absolutely awful. Okay, so there I am about to—”
“Sorry to interrupt you folks, but do you all mind if we steal this sweet little lady here for just a minute or two?” The sound of Tommy Miller’s smooth, deep voice causes you to stop abruptly mid-sentence. You glance over your shoulder only to see him approaching the table. He’s closely followed by Maria, who had traded her usual patrol duty attire for a light blue denim dress that sat off of her shoulders, the flowing skirt falling just above knees. Her white cowboy hat matches her husband’s.
“Aw c’mon, Miller! She was just about to tell us a story!” Peter, Martha’s husband, exclaims as he drapes his arm around his wife’s shoulders
Tommy chuckles, shaking his head. “I promise we won’t keep her too long, alright?”
You immediately notice that he’s holding a drink in each hand, each glass filled almost to the rim with a bold, rich amber liquor over ice. The only reason that you’d immediately known one of the two drinks was meant for you was because Maria had just discovered that she was pregnant. It was still a secret that very few people knew about, but the minute she confirmed it with a pregnancy test earlier that month, she’d come running to your door to tell you. It’s the reason she’s been avoiding booze all evening—she’s been sipping on lemonade all night instead.
“Excuse me,” you nod politely to the group of friends you’d been sitting with and stand up from the table. You follow Tommy and Maria over to a far corner of the barn where the three of you could talk somewhat privately. Accepting the glass from Tommy, you offer him a grateful smile, pleased that you’d gotten the drink you had wanted after all. “Thank you.”
“‘Course.” He nods and tips the brim of his cowboy hat to you in his typical, gentleman-like manner. He’d never lost an ounce of those Texas manners.
Maria loops her arm through his. “Well, it looks like tonight was a real success,” she states as she glances around the room, her pride written clearly across her face. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
“Absolutely,” you agree, enthusiastically. You smile again and lift your glass to the couple as you toast, “Another year and another success. Here’s to many, many more to come.”
“Cheers to that, little lady,” Tommy grins and lifts up his glass, clinking the rim of it to yours before taking a generous drink, nearly draining it in one single gulp. “Thanks for stoppin’ by earlier and helpin’ set the place up, by the way. We really appreciate it.”
You wave your free hand at him. “Oh, no need to thank me at all. You already know that I was more than happy to help out,” you tell him as you take a careful sip of whiskey. The hard liquor burns its way down your throat in the sweetest way. Taking another sip, you turn to look at Maria, unable to help yourself from admiring her gorgeous, natural glow. “How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad,” Maria replies with a smile, placing her free hand over her flat stomach. At only a few weeks along, she still had quite a long way to go before she began to show. “Just a little bit of morning sickness here and there, but so far, so good.” She pauses and leans her body into Tommy’s side. “I never thought I’d be having a baby in my forties,” she muses with a laugh. “I thought that train had left the station a long time ago. But I guess life had something else planned for me.”
“For us,” Tommy corrects, playfully nudging her.
“For us,” Maria echoes, giving him a loving kiss on his cheek. “Luke calls it a geriatric pregnancy. He told me I’m automatically considered high risk, due to my age and all. But we’re hoping it’ll go smoothly.”
You detect the genuine concern behind her optimistic smile and reach out, gently touching her arm. “I’m sure it will all turn out fine. You just have to make sure that you’re taking good care of yourself and getting plenty of rest.” You point a finger at her, wagging it back and forth. “So, that means no more patrol duties for you, Mrs. Miller.”
“Oh I know,” she laughs again. “I’m on light work duties starting next week and in a few months, it’ll be strict bed rest for me. At least, that’s what Luke recommended, but I’m hoping to stay on my feet for a little bit longer than that.” She tilts her head curiously to the side as she looks at you. “Speaking of Luke, is he around? We haven’t seen him at all tonight.”
Throat bobbing, you grip your glass tightly in your hand. The corners of your mouth threaten to turn downward, but you manage to hold your smile well enough.
At this point, you had pretty much lost track of the number times you’d been asked about Luke.
Where is he? Why isn’t he here with you? Do you think there’s a chance he’ll show up tonight? Can’t you go home and convince him to join us?
You just about loathed the way he was considered to be a hero in Jackson. The way that every single person in the community adored the man to pieces made you sick to your stomach—Luke was anything but a hero, but nobody knew that. Not a single soul knew the real him, the monster that emerged behind closed doors, the terrible things he did when no one was around.
There had been an occasion or two where you had considered going to Tommy and Maria about it, to tell them all about the horrors that went on within the walls of your home. But even when they’d point out a bruise on your arm or a scrape on your cheek, you would lose the courage and chalk it up to a clumsy accident or injuries sustained while on the job—hell, just a few months ago, you’d blamed an injured shoulder on Ranger, telling Tommy that his beloved stallion had accidentally kicked you during one of your routine examinations. You wanted nothing more than to tell him that it hadn’t been his horse who put you in a sling for three weeks, it had been Luke. But how the hell could you do that?
Luke is the commune’s physician. The commune’s only physician.
Besides the two older nurses who worked in the clinic along with him, he was the only medically trained professional who knew how to treat severe injuries, perform minor surgeries, and diagnose illnesses—as much as you hated to admit it, Jackson needed him. If you told Tommy and Maria about everything that he’d done to you over the last two years, then you’d risk getting Luke locked up in the town jail, or possibly even thrown out and exiled from the settlement. What would that mean for the people in the community who fell ill or became injured and needed a doctor?
Maybe he wasn’t a hero to you, but to everybody else, he was. People could die without him and his medical knowledge. Hell, Maria would need Luke now more than ever now that she was pregnant.
For as much as you wanted to tell them the truth about him, you just couldn’t find the guts to do it, not when the decision would impact every single person in Jackson.It would be too selfish.
So, you kept quiet and continued to let it happen because what else could you do?
Nothing.
There wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it.
Tommy says your name, snapping you back out of your thoughts. “Hey, you alright?” he asks you as he gingerly touches your shoulder. “You zoned out on us for a minute there.”
You blink. “Yeah sorry, I’m alright. Um, Luke decided to stay at home and get some rest,” you reply as you shift awkwardly from boot to boot, feeling a sudden heat flood your face. “He’s been working a lot of hours at the clinic and making house calls as well, so he’s just been really tired, you know?”
“Oh, well that’s too bad,” Maria frowns. “Tommy and I were hoping we could say this to the both of you together, but I suppose you’ll have to give him the message on our behalf when you get home to him later tonight.”
You shoot her a puzzled look. “What is it?”
“We know we don’t say this as often as we should, but you and Luke do so much for us. So much for Jackson,” Tommy says, sincere gratitude dripping from his tone. “We’re damn lucky to have the two of you here. Me and Maria, and everyone in this community, we’re all deeply indebted to both of you for all you do.”
You stare at him. “Everyone here works very hard, Tommy—”
“Now, I ain’t saying they don’t,” he interrupts you by holding up his hand. “But let’s be honest here. Luke, he takes good care of all of our people, you take good care of all of our horses—people and horses, that’s what keeps this place runnin’ like a well oiled machine and you know it just as well as we do. Without the both of you lookin’ after our two most important resources, I ain’t all too sure where the hell this place would be.”
Maria nods in agreement with her husband and squeezes his arm. “Oh, don’t be so modest,” she remarks upon seeing the bewildered expression on your face. “He’s right. And we need you to know how much we appreciate everything the two of you do for this community.”
Tommy grins, raising his glass in a toast. “To you and Luke.”
Stomach churning, you flash them your very best smile and lift your own glass, clinking it against his and then to Maria’s bottle of lemonade. “Well, I will certainly give him the kind message when I get home tonight. Thank you.” You take a quick sip of your drink, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The room feels hot, like it had been lit on fire and you were standing too close to the flames. “It’s starting to feel a bit warm in here. I’m going to go outside for a minute to get some fresh air. Excuse me.”
Before either of them can utter another word, you spin around on your heel and hastily make your way across the barn towards the exit, being careful not to bump into the dancing couples on the dance floor along the way. Even as you hurried out, you’d caught sight of Ellie sitting with Dina at one of the tables, digging into her plate full of barbecue. Dina had leaned over and whispered something into Ellie’s ear and Ellie let out a loud, obnoxious cackle through a mouthful of food.
Despite the circumstances, you can’t help but smile—an actual, genuine smile this time around.
At least Ellie seemed to be having a good time.
That’s more than enough for you.
Joel glimpses over Esther’s shoulder.
His eyebrows pull together in a mixture of confusion and concern as he watches you practically run out of the barn alone with a drink clutched in your hand and a strange expression on your face—you appear to be upset over something.
The blonde in front of him had been going on and on about where she was from, although he hadn’t quite been listening to her the entire time she had been talking—or at all.
Had Esther said Vermont? Or maybe it had been Virginia?
Joel wasn’t all too sure, but he didn’t care enough to ask her to clarify. Besides, his thoughts were far too busy preoccupied with someone else. Someone he needed to make sure was alright.
“Listen Esther, s’been real nice talkin’ to you,” he states as he offers the woman the most polite smile he can possibly muster up for her. He tries to ignore the awkward way she’d pouted her lips at him, a sad, disappointed look flashing in her eyes. “But I’ve gotta go and take care of somethin’ for a minute. Will you excuse me?”
He doesn’t even give Esther the chance to respond. Setting his drink down on the counter, he gives her a quick nod goodbye and steps around her. He starts towards the barn’s exit, but before leaving, he tosses a quick glance in Ellie’s direction just to make sure she’s still doing okay without him. He had been keeping a close and watchful eye on her from the bar the entire time. After a while, it soon became apparent to Joel that Ellie had been doing just fine. She’s scarfing down another heaping helping of bison and potatoes, grinning from ear to ear as she talks with Dina, who seems to be enjoying her company despite her poor table manners.
Joel steps outside into the night and he takes a look around, searching for you among the small, scattered groups of people who stood mingling with one another. Gossiping women, drunk and rowdy patrolmen, children running around—he jumps slightly as a giggling little redheaded girl who can’t be older than five circles around his legs with a curly haired boy who is about the same age chasing after her. He lightly shoos them away from him and they take off running in another direction.
He scans his surroundings once more.
You’re nowhere to be found.
Humming, Joel glances down.
He notices a long trail of footprints left behind by what had to be a pair of cowboy boots, similar to the ones you’d been wearing. The strange way in which they veered off in a random direction away from the rest of the crowd tips him off almost a bit too easily—he knows they belong to you. Without giving it a second thought, he starts to follow your tracks and they lead him all the way around to the back of the barn.
That’s where Joel finds you, leaning against the wooden paddock fence. You’re back is to him, your head tilted upwards. Your gaze seems to be lost somewhere up in the velvet, purple night sky and you’re swaying along to the pretty country melody that, even outside, can still be heard coming from inside the barn.
Turn around, a sound voice in the back of his mind tries to reason with him. Go go back inside.
He ignores it, his legs moving forward, eager to close the distance between the two of you.
The sound of his heavy boots crunching on the rocks in the dirt as he draws closer to you causes you to jump. Whirling around, you gasp and your free hand flies to your chest.
“M’sorry,” Joel quickly apologizes, holding up both his hands to show you he’s not a threat. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Joel?” You’re surprised to see him. “What are you doing out here?”
The area out behind the barn is just as dark as it is secluded, however, the moon is full, big, and bright, its silvery glow illuminating each and every single one of your features in such a beautiful way that it makes his throat go dry, just like it had earlier that evening when he’d first seen you in that dress.
“Well ain’t that funny. I was actually just ‘bout to ask you the same exact question, darlin’.” He falls into step beside you, leaning back against the fence. “What are you doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”
“Oh, I just needed some fresh air, that’s all,” you reply with a small, light shrug of your shoulders. You turn back around, leaning your forearms on top of the wooden fence, both hands wrapped firmly around your glass of whiskey. You’re standing so close to Joel that your shoulder touches his, though neither of you make a move to put space in between your bodies. “What’s your excuse?”
“Needed a breather from Esther,” he confesses.
It was partially the truth.
He couldn’t tell you he’d really come outside to check on you.
“What do you mean? Didn’t you like her?”
“Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all,” Joel says, letting out a chuckle. He shakes his head. “She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight, y’know?” He pauses for just a brief second and crosses his arms over his chest, his sudden change in position causing his shoulder to press even closer against your own. “Tommy mentioned her to me when we were havin’ lunch together yesterday. Said he’d be willin’ to set us up, but I didn’t think his dumbass would actually follow through with it.”
Confused, you shoot him a strange look.
“I’d told him I wasn’t interested in meetin’ her, but Tommy’s always had a real habit of not listenin’ to me,” he remarks, shaking his head once again.
The question falls from your lips before you can even think about trying to stop it. “Why aren’t you interested in her?” you blurt. Awkwardly, you clear your throat and add in a nonchalant tone, “Esther’s gorgeous, Joel. Most guys around here would jump at the chance to be with her.”
“S’like I told you. She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight.”
“So then, what kind of company are you looking for?”
Joel hesitates, then answers honestly. “Yours.”
“Oh,” you breathe out, your heart skipping a nervous beat.
He tests the waters. “That alright to say?”
“Mhm,” is all you’re able to utter.
Fighting to take a steady, even breath, you clutch at your glass even harder.
“Y’know, when I was on my way out here, I saw Ellie and Dina still sittin’ together,” Joel finally says after a minute or two, breaking the silence. “She honestly seems to be havin’ a real good time with her.” He nudges your shoulder with his own, a hint of amusement in his voice as he turns to you and asks, “Now tell me why I’ve got this strange little feelin’ that you had somethin’ to do with that?”
Your immediate expression of guilt prompts his grin.
You’d been caught red handed.
“Okay, so I may or may not have talked to Dina earlier today while we were setting up the barn for the party. I asked if she could do me a favor and at least try and talk to Ellie tonight,” you admit, sheepishly. “I told her about how much Ellie reminds me of her, and how I thought they would get along.” You feel his dark eyes fix themselves intently on you and the heat creeps to your cheeks as you continue to explain yourself to him. It’s only just now occurred to you that perhaps you should have ran the idea by Joel—he’s her guardian and the last thing you want to do is cross his boundaries. “It took a little convincing, but she agreed. Dina can still be quite shy sometimes, but she’s a really good girl, Joel. I promise.”
Joel raises an eyebrow at you, letting his arms fall down to his sides. “Really? You did that?”
“Yeah. I did.” Anxiously, you take a long sip of liquor before adding, “I hope that’s okay.”
“‘Course it is, darlin’. I really appreciate you doin’ that for Ellie.” Joel’s gaze softens and meets yours with genuine sincerity. “I appreciate everythin’ that you’ve done for her. It means a lot to me. More than I can probably even explain.”
“I can tell how important she is to you.”
Joel nods. “Ellie’s the most important thing in the world to me.” He stops, exhaling a long, heavy sigh. “She’s been through a whole lot—a hell of a lot more than anyone her age should have to go through.” Once again, he pauses momentarily, trying to keep his emotions in check. He swallows harshly and subconsciously leans closer towards you without realizing it. “Ellie, she ain’t my blood, but she’s my daughter. For a long time, I thought I couldn’t take care of her. I thought that I didn’t have what it takes to protect her.”
“And what about now?”
“Now that we’re here, I feel real different ‘bout it all. I finally feel like I can keep Ellie safe, y’know? Give her the life she deserves,” Joel states, sounding a bit relieved, almost like he’s only just now made the realization that things are different now—it’s not like it was while they’d been out on the road. Each day isn’t a fight for survival, a game of trying to stay alive long enough just to see the next. Sleeping in the dirt, watching her go hungry, seeing her have to wear the same dirty clothes for weeks at a time, those were all now things of the past.
Pulling yourself back from the fence, you glance up at him with a curious expression.
“Ellie hasn’t told me all that much about what she’s gone through—about what either of you have gone through.” You catch sight of the worry that flashes in his eyes and reassure him, “And I don’t plan on asking because it isn’t any of my business. But in the short time I’ve gotten to know Ellie, I’ve already seen it in her eyes, Joel. It’s all there.”
“What’s there?”
“Every bad thing that’s ever happened to her.”
Joel hangs his head. “Jesus.”
And just like that, he somehow feels like a fucking failure all over again.
“I know that you’re worried about her, Joel. I don’t blame you, but you’re doing all that you can do,” you remind him, the kindness in your voice bringing him the warmth and comfort he’s been needing for far too long. “You’re here in the community now and she’s safe. That’s what matters—all the rest is going to fall right into place soon enough. Just give her a bit of time and don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”
Joel sighs. “I just want what’s best for her, y’know? Just like any normal parent would want for their kid.”
“And you are doing the best that you can, just like any normal parent would.” You reach out, gently placing your hand on his bare forearm, your thumb brushing his warm skin. Your mere touch sends a tingle up his spine, and he can’t help but wonder if the connection had done the same for you. “It’s easy to see how much you care about her. How much you love her.”
“I do love her,” he murmurs. It feels odd, almost foreign for him to say it out loud. Of course he loves Ellie, and although he’s fairly certain she knew that and she loved him too, those three specific words had never been exchanged between them, and he had a hunch they never would be. “All I want is to do right by her. After everythin’ she’s been through—I just want her to finally be happy.”
“That says a lot about the kind of man you are.”
Biting back a scoff, Joel shakes his head. He doesn’t want you thinking he’s a good person—you’d be horrified if you knew about all the blood that stained his hands, about all of the things he’d done in the last two decades to survive. He’d stolen, he’d destroyed, he’d murdered. He’d lied.
He was not a good man.
Your hand drops away from his arm, a lot sooner than either of you would have liked.
“So, what’s your story?” he asks, deciding to switch the focus of the conversation onto you. “How’d you end up in good ol’ Jackson, Wyoming?”
“You take another sip of your drink, which is now completely watered down by the melted ice in your glass. “Well, like I told you, I grew up in New Mexico on a horse ranch. It was me, my parents, and my little brother,” you start to explain. “After the outbreak happened, me and my family ended up in the Albuquerque QZ. We were there for quite some time, until there was a breach at one of the gates and the zone was overrun with infected.” You pause briefly as the memories of that night come flooding back. By now, you’ve repressed them enough that they don’t bring you to your knees the way they used to when you had been younger. “Me and my dad made it out alive, but my mom and my brother didn’t.”
Joel frowns. “Shit. M’real sorry, darlin’. I shouldn’t have asked—”
“It’s okay,” you assure him with a tiny nod. “After me and my dad made it out of the zone, we found this group of people who were heading east, trying to get to Boston. It wasn’t long before everyone started to get picked off one by one—by infected, raiders, and even slavers. Somehow, me and my dad survived all that, but we found ourselves alone again. We were starving, had no shelter, and winter was just around the corner. We honestly didn’t know what we were going to do, and even though neither of us ever said it to each other, we were both so sure we were going to die. But then Tommy and his patrol group came across us one night. Once we proved that neither of us were infected, he brought us in.”
“You’ve been through a lot,” Joel states. He never would have even guessed.
You just seemed so well put together.
“Haven’t we all?” You let out a humorless laugh.
A silence falls like a curtain over both of you, but it’s comfortable.
Tranquil.
Although it had been a warmer night, it was now much later into the evening, and a chilly breeze whips its way through the settlement, whisking its cool and crisp fingers through your hair. It causes the white daisy you’d been wearing to fall, and the flower flutters to the ground, landing right in between Joel’s boots. Without giving it a second thought, he reaches down and picks it up, being careful as he gingerly dusts the dirt off of the delicate petals. He turns to you, tucking the flower back behind your ear. As his hand falls away from you, his index finger accidentally grazes the soft skin of your cheek, and every part of him floods with the burning desire to feel more of you.
“M’sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbles sheepishly.
“It’s quite alright,” you say—and you mean it. You can’t even remember the last time someone’s touch set you on fire like this. You’d been feeling cold and empty and numb for so long, and while all of the things that Joel’s making you feel had become almost foreign to you, they’re starting to reignite that spark of life inside of you that you thought you’d lost a long time ago.
From the inside of the barn, you and Joel hear the band begin to play their cover of Can’t Help Falling in Love.
“Elvis, huh?” Joel muses with a hum. He sounds impressed.
You’re not sure if all the alcohol you’d been consuming throughout the evening has only now just decided to kick into full gear in your system or whether you really do just lack any kind of common sense, but you find yourself looking up at him shyly through your eyelashes. “How about another dance?”
His lips part slightly in surprise. “To this song?”
Every inch of your skin burns hot with embarrassment and your fingers curl tighter around your glass. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that I really love to dance,” you sputter out nervously, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. You only dig yourself further into the hole as you continue to ramble. “Luke doesn’t like to dance. He never wants to dance with me—”
That’s all Joel had needed to hear.
He reaches for your glass, prying it out of your grasp. He sets it down on top of the fence and holds his hand out to you. “I’ll dance with you, darlin’.”
Looking up at him in surprise, you accept and place your hand in his. His other hand finds your waist and the two of you begin swaying along to the music—a smile that could light up the entire town breaks out across your face.
Joel didn’t know Luke, but he couldn’t fathom how the man you were married to wouldn’t do just about anything to see that smile.
“Wait, I thought you couldn’t dance,” you tease, noticing that he’s leading you.
Flashing you a cocky grin, he shrugs. “Guess the kid was right. I ain’t so bad for fifty six with creakin’ knees.”
Remembering Ellie’s words from earlier, you throw your head back and laugh.
His stomach turns, twisting in a tangle of desire and nerves.
You’re married.
But that does nothing to stop the want, the need.
For either of you.
Being in his arms, it’s wrong.
It’s more than an innocent dance—it’s the beginning of something that’s bound to lead to nothing but trouble and you both know it.
Joel continues to lead you and begins singing along to the familiar lyrics, quietly, but just loud enough for you to hear the sultry richness of his voice. “Like a river flows, surely to the sea,” he sings, subconsciously giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Darlin’ so it goes, some things are meant to be.”
Impressed, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got a nice voice, Joel.”
“Y’think so?”
You nod. “I do. What, were you a singer in your first life or something?”
“Close.”
“Really? What did you do?”
“I was a contractor,” Joel replies, grinning as he elicits another sweet laugh from you. “Owned my own construction business with Tommy. I did enjoy singin’ though—and playin’ the guitar too. But it was a hobby more than anythin’ since I don’t think music would’ve paid the bills.”
You smile up at him. “Oh, well now you’re going to have to play the guitar for me sometime. Maybe even treat me to a whole song?”
“I still owe Ellie a song,” he remembers, shaking his head. “But I don’t have a guitar, so it gets me out of it.”
“Well then, we’re going to have to find you one and when we do, you’ll have to play something for us,” you tell him. “Deal?”
“Deal.” Joel agrees without thinking. He starts singing along to the lyrics again. “Take my hand, take my whole life too—”
“But I can’t help falling in love with you.” You try not to laugh again at the shock on his face as you finished the lyric for him.
“Hey now, you’ve got a real nice voice yourself, darlin’.”
Darlin’.
You shouldn’t let him call you that.
Out of respect for your husband, you should tell him it’s not okay. None of this is okay.
But it is okay.
“Oh, now you’re just trying to flatter me, Miller,” you accuse him, playfully.
The song ends and neither of you make a move to let go of one another.
Joel’s eyes fall to your pretty, plush lips and it takes every ounce of strength he has inside of him not to lean down and press his own lips against them.
Finally, he forces himself to let you go and takes a step backward, clearing his throat. “I should, uh—I should go and find Ellie so I can get her home. S’gettin’ kinda late.”
You nod, your heart slamming painfully against your sternum. “Of course,” you say, slightly breathless. “I’ll come along with you so I can say goodnight to her.”
As the two of you make your way around the barn and back towards the entrance, Joel sees a tall, slender man with short dark hair approaching. He’d called out your name and something inside Joel’s mind just clicks together—he knows exactly who the man is before you’ve even had a chance to open your mouth and say his name.
“Luke?” Stopping abruptly in your tracks, you stiffen and squeak out his name. “What—what are you doing here?”
“There you are, honey.” He comes up to you and immediately takes your arm, pulling you from Joel’s side and over to his. “Tommy told me you might be out here. I was just coming to look for you.”
It takes thirty seconds for Joel to size him up. Luke’s younger than himself, definitely closer in age to Tommy—somewhere around his mid to late forties. He’s a lot more clean cut than most of the other rugged men in the commune with his short, neatly kept dark hair and a clean shaven face. Though he’s on the thinner side, he’s in decent shape, but Joel’s wider, broader and far, far more intimidating.
“What are you doing here?” you ask again.
“Now, is that really how a loving wife should greet her husband?” Luke laughs, pulling you even closer into his side.
Joel isn’t all too fond of the way he’s holding you.
He’s rough, harsh.
“I decided to come and check it out. See what all the fuss is about,” Luke says. He glances at Joel, his green eyes giving him a once over—sizing him up, just like Joel had done to him. “Don’t be rude, honey. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend here?”
You speak softly, almost too softly.
“Luke, this is Joel Miller.”
“Ah. You’re Tommy’s brother, right?”
Joel tries not to sound too curt, but fails. “That’s right.”
“Joel, this is Luke.” You can’t even look him in the eye as you introduce your spouse. “He’s my husband.”
Luke extends a courteous hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Joel.” His other hand finds and takes yours. “I do hope that my wife here hasn’t been bothering you tonight. She can be quite the little chatterbox. Makes me wish she came with a mute button sometimes.”
Joel’s dark eyes briefly flit to Luke’s hand holding yours, taking note of the way he’s gripping it so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. Between that and the comment he’d just made about you, Joel had every fucking desire to connect his fist to the side of Luke’s face.
“Luke, please,” you whisper, throwing him a tiny glare.
“Oh come on now, honey. Where did your sense of humor go? You know I’m only joking,” Luke states, squeezing your hand a little harder, causing you to squirm.
Something tells Joel he’s not kidding around.
He’d meant what he had said.
“She hasn’t been a bother at all,” Joel speaks in your defense. “Actually, I came out here to talk to her and to thank her for bein’ so kind to my kid, Ellie. Your wife here, she’s been nothin’ but good to her since we arrived.”
“Well, as long as she wasn’t being a bother.” Luke glances down at you. “If you’ll excuse us, there’s a few people that I still need to see and say hello to inside. Come along, honey.” He glances at Joel, a strange glint in his eye as he tells him, “Welcome to Jackson, Joel.”
His jaw clenches as he watches him drag you into the barn.
Nothing about Luke sat right with him.
The way he’d spoken to you, touched you, treated you.
And then there was you.
The light had instantly left your eyes the second he’d come around.
Something wasn’t right.
A rough hand on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts.
“Really, Joel? Really? Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Tommy hisses, yanking him over to the side of the barn where nobody would overhear him. “What the fuck did I tell you yesterday in the mess hall?”
“The hell are you fuckin’ talkin’ ‘bout?”
His brother glares at him. “I know that you ain’t as fuckin’ dumb as you look, Joel. What the fuck were you doin’ out here alone with her? Huh?”
Joel purses his lips together tightly in silence.
What had he seen?
Having read his mind, Tommy shoves his shoulder. “You were dancin’ with her you fuckin’ asshole? Did you fuckin’ forget that she’s a married woman?”
Joel rolls his eyes at him and aggressively shoves his hand off of his shoulder. “We were just dancin’ together, alright? Ain’t like we were makin’ out, Tommy. Can you fuckin’ relax?”
“I don’t give a fuck, Joel! If I saw any man that wasn’t me dancin’ with Maria like that, I’d be fuckin’ pissed. I’d kick his fuckin’ ass,” he spits. “Her husband just showed up to the goddamn party. You’re fuckin’ lucky that it was me who saw you out there with her and not him. What if he’d seen you two? Then what?”
“Christ, Tommy. Relax,” Joel tries again to calm him. “It was just a dance, alright? It was nothin’ more than that. Okay?”
“You listen to me and you listen to me good, ‘cause I ain’t fuckin’ gonna say it again, big brother. Don’t go gettin’ any ideas ‘bout her. I don’t need you to go around stirrin’ up any kind of trouble,” Tommy says, his voice firm. “We can’t have that kinda shit here. Maria won’t tolerate it, and y’know what, I won’t either. Don’t fuckin’ cause problems. Got it?”
“Didn’t plan on it,” Joel mutters, bitterly.
Tommy narrows his eyes at him.
“Just fuckin’ watch yourself, Joel,” he warns. “I fuckin’ mean it.”
#joel miller x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller fluff#joel miller#joel miller hbo#joel miller pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x original character#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller angst#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller series#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller tlou#joel miller the last of us#pedro pascal imagine#fic: a safe haven#fic: ash
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— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [1] (M)
— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.
❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞
〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)
— pairing: ot8 x reader (this chapter); seonghwa x reader; 10.6k
— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.
CHAPTER WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping references, emotional turmoil
You keep your head down, grip tightening as you make your way through the marketplace. Conversations are hushed, eyes warily rolling over your figure. It's enough of an irritant for you to pull your hood over your head. It's easy to spot strangers around here. Unfortunately, you are still one. Despite your relationship with Soobin, none of them have treated you as part of the community. And it’s not as if you haven’t tried. Inviting them over to your shared apartment, greeting them each time you passed by. All of it was met with blank stares, scowls curving their lips. You're sure if you strained your ears enough to listen you'd hear side comments about you; how you don't belong, how you've brought the faeries into the city. None of it is true of course, you stepping foot into town and the sudden disappearances happening at the exact same time are just coincidences.
It's what you hope, at least.
"Hiding in plain sight?"
You step into his shop, catching him placing a book lightly on the shelf. He glances at you, a soft smile on his lips. He steps around the counter and despite the now leaning stack of books in his hands, he leans around it to press a light kiss to your lips, then your forehead. It eases your anxiousness briefly, your hood slipping off your head as you lean against the counter. In moments like this it reminds you of what you’re here for, why you tolerate the silent isolation they give you. If it weren’t for Soobin you would have left town long ago.
"Think it'll keep their eyes off of me?" You murmur. He sends you a sympathetic look, enough for you to think otherwise. You sigh, pulling at loose strands. "I know I know, long shot.”
“They will learn to love you as easily as I have,” he moves back in front of the shelf, glancing at the titles before placing them in the correct spots. “I know that their words are alarming, but you moving in with me has no effect on the town disappearances. Some people just don’t find their way home,” he shrugs, watching as your eyes narrow. “It’s the truth!”
“Bin, they won’t accept me until the people are found. You know that.”
“Then we wait until they are found, y/n. Don’t worry yourself over things like this. It’ll be fine.”
You nod only to calm him down for the moment, your thoughts otherwise. From what you hear, faeries haven’t been seen around this town in decades, most targeting the large metropolitan areas rather than cities with populations in the lower thousands. Interestingly enough, despite your move from the city to here, you have yet to spot one faerie folk. Unlikely that you would. Though, you do hear the older residents speak of them.
The Fae folk are often mischievous, luring their victims into the thickened woods with soft words, tempting sounds. The Rowan trees at the edge of town are often the type of forestry that they reside in, stealing unsuspecting people from their lives. You’ve avoided the path since you’ve learned of it. Moreso now due to the vanishings. Who would have known that the tales of the past were riddled with truth? It only unsettles you more, knowing that there’s other things out there not yet discovered. But still, the information on the Fae is limited. All you’ve found is minimal, unimportant. No human has yet to figure out a way to stop them entirely – or if they are even real at all. There’s a myth that four-leaf clovers stop them in their tracks, so you see the paintings across every part of town. It has done nothing to stop the disappearances. The attempts are all in vain.
What is known is that you do not pray in circumstances like this. The ones that will listen are not who you would like to grant your wishes. You were never religious, your upbringing leaning towards a more lax nature. But even you think that you should keep the missing in your thoughts. At least enough to hope they return safely. You doubt it's the mysterious unseen faeries, but you can't help but try and aid somehow.
“How’d the interview go?” He asks, grabbing your attention.
You slowly sink into one of the seats. “Remember when you told me Ben and you were friends? And that he’d go easy on me?”
He groans. “What did he do?”
“Told me that he’s only doing this interview for you and shut the door. Loudly by the way, then I left. I’m pretty sure he lit some type of spiritual incense to get rid of my bad energy.”
“It’s not that. You know that.”
“Well, I did,” you murmur. “Not so sure anymore. It’s fine, don’t worry too much about it. I’ll get over it.” You strongly do not think you’ll get over it, but you just hope that the thoughts don’t linger in Soobin’s mind too long. He’s insisted weeks ago that the two of you move away from this town and open his bookstore somewhere else, but you’ve convinced him otherwise. The two of you aren’t even married yet nor engaged. You wouldn’t want him to pick up his whole life just because you feel slightly uncomfortable with the stares on you. Or the whispers each time you enter a room. You can handle it. You just need to let out your grievances occasionally.
“Telling me not to worry will only make me worry more, love,” he places his hands on either side of the chair you sit on, lightly nudging your forehead with his. “I love you.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not going to leave you because some townsfolk are scared of a woman who made a popcorn bag catch on fire in the microwave.”
“Soobin!” You nudge him and he laughs, moving away from you and back to his tasks. “You’re such an ass.”
He rolls his eyes, continuing to stock his shelves and tend to customers. You’ve noticed that some are startled when they see you, so you decide to hide out in the back of his store, headphones over your ears to drown out the whispers of disdain and dread. Soobin scolds them each time they do it, but it only seems to drive their intentions. After a few minutes of hearing him argue you decide it’s best to no longer listen.
-
“It’s your turn, Seonghwa. Continuing to tuck yourself behind literature will not slow down time. Soon the others will come and find where you’ve hidden yourself.”
Seonghwa sighs as he listens to San’s words, peering over the stack of writings. Its grown since the last time San entered his room; piles upon piles of literature is littered around him, some of it very close to the entrance of the room. The others never really bothered to enter his personal space because of it, but San was just in here yesterday. How is it already crowded? Especially considering how neat Seonghwa is. “Must it be tonight? We’ve delayed it for longer.”
“We’re all hungry. You know what happens when it’s taken too far. I’d rather not clean up any of our messes again,” San points out, Seonghwa’s frown only deepening. “It’s our second to last one for this town, then we’re moving on. Too many disappearances will make the authorities search the Rowan. It’ll only cause more slaughter.”
“Then so be it,” Seonghwa says. He hides himself behind the stack once more. The sound of pages flipping fills the quiet.
“Hwa…” His voice drags now, whining, twisting each syllable. “The Seelies are on our backs."
“Fine,” Seonghwa places the book on the top of the stacks, stepping around it to meet San’s eyes. His sleepwear wraps around him, glasses resting at the edge of his nose. For a moment, he finds the sight endearing. “There’s a fair tonight to ward off faeries with their limited resources. Enough of a distraction to steal another.”
"Great!" San replies happily.
-
"It's a bit cold to have a festival, no?" You say, passing Soobin his bag. He thanks you, placing it on his back. "The harvest will be fine like it always is. And you're a bookstore owner, not a farmer. Ever think about not attending one?"
"It's to support everyone in the neighborhood, y/n. We know everyone, and they'll know I'm not around. Plus, it'll bring a great harvest of customers to the bookstore," He grins at your eye roll at his pun."Come and you'll see. It'll be fun."
That's the last thing you want to do. Be around people who hate you in the middle of the night around burning logs? A recipe for a disaster. "I don't know…"
"They said you wouldn't show," he adds, grabbing his hat off the coat hanger. "This will prove them wrong. Maybe it'll stop the weird rumors that are spreading for no reason? They'll see you're kind and pretty and safe, and have nothing to do with the disappearances. They'll love you like I love you."
You shouldn't care what others think. In fact you really don't care much at all. But Soobin cares deeply, and having you around the bookstore meant that you would have to care. So you give him a brave face, following him out the bookstore and twisting the lock behind you. The two of you have had prior discussions, most ending in a moot point. You care for each other more than anything – you'd give him the world if asked. And he consistently, without falter, told you that he would leave this all behind if you couldn't take it any longer. You've thought it over. If tonight doesn't somewhat boost your position in this town – you're not sure you'll be able to stand it any longer. There's only so many snide remarks one could take.
Soobin and you pass by closed shops and darkened porches, making your way to the gathering. You see the clovers painted on walls and doors, handing up along roofs and banisters. He catches your eyes, smiling.
"Think it makes the faeries go away?"
You purse your lips, "Probably not. They're more clever than we make them out to be." If they're real, you finish in your head. "It stumps me a bit how a formation of leaves would stop them in their place. They love nature don't they? Why would they hate a perfect formation of it?"
"A folktale," he shrugs. "That's why I keep it in my sign. People around here heard about a woman being saved because she had one in her pocket, so they think it'll save them when a faerie comes crawling around." He rolls his eyes. "Doubt it'll stop them."
You laugh along with him, meaningless conversation exchanged between the two of you. Eventually, you make it into the clearing. Most people you recognize already, all giving greetings to Soobin. Some even say hello to you, much to your surprise. You stand a bit away from the crowd, thanking Soobin for passing you a marshmallow and stick. You chat along with him for a while, until something from the corner of your eye bothers you. You don't look, at first, a creepy feeling crawling over your skin. Eventually, you decide it's best to get it over with than continue to feel uncomfortable.
A man across the fire shifts your attention for a moment. He holds a cup in his hand, sipping slowly as he stares into the flames. You’ve never seen him before. Strangers do often enter the fairs to enjoy a vacation away from their homes. Ordinary in itself, yet there seems to be someone odd about him. He wears a long, black overcoat despite the temperature, hair pulled back by darkened frames on his head. His eyes slowly move, almost meeting yours until you look away.
The air around you feels a bit colder.
“You’re going to break the cup if you hold it any tighter,” Soobin laughs, tilting his head to block your view. His smile slowly drops, concern in his gaze. “Are you alright?”
“Fine, just feeling a little chilly,” you murmur, moving a bit closer to the fire. Soobin pulls you into his side, giving you a chance to send a fleeting glance at the man. Unfortunately for you, he no longer stands there. And even more odd, it feels as if he's still there, watching you.
You’re not the superstitious type due to you never seeing faeries, a part of you doesn’t believe in them at all. But rarely did anyone ever come to these celebrations that didn’t live here. The way that the stranger stands out makes your insides twist. Him fading into the darkness – no human could do such a thing.
Perhaps you should have stayed home after all.
"It is a bit chilly tonight," Soobin agrees, tucking you closer underneath his arm. "The winds must be telling a story." You know he's trying to comfort you. You're not hiding whatever is bothering you at all. A bit comical that you're attempting to. You were never one to conceal your emotions, face as literal as a child's painting. "Are my reassurances that boring?" He teases.
You pull yourself from the grip of your thoughts, shaking your head. "I think I should go," voice barely louder than the buzzing of the fireflies. "I don't want you to freak, but something feels off."
"Off?" His brows furrow, glancing around. "Like?"
You're thankful that he always believes in your intuition. "Like there's something in the crowd that doesn't belong. I know it sounds stupid, and I know I'm the last person to believe in that stuff but I just feel it, you know?"
"We should leave then." He stands up, hand sliding into yours with ease. "We've hung around enough already. No need to stay longer than necessary."
"I don't want you to feel like you have to follow."
"I wouldn't let you walk back home alone."
He agrees swiftly and you're thankful for it. Soobin guides you around the crowd of people, exchanging goodbyes as you leave the gathering. Soon enough it's only the two of you leaving the woods. You walk swifter than him. sparing a glance every once in a while to make sure he's close.
-
“One.”
“One.”
“Two…”
“Soobin, come on,” You try peeking through the mask he holds over your eyes, but he secures his hold, giggles echoing in your ear.
“Two,” you groan, though smiling.
“Three!” He pulls off the blindfold, stepping away from you. At first, you’re a bit confused, at least until you look at the counter. Your own eyes widen at the sight, looking between it and Soobin. A very unlike you squeal escapes your lips, running over the carpet and piles of books he has yet to put away. You grab the small journal, hand dragging over the ridges and markings. It’s one you’ve had your eye on for months now, hoping and praying (and saving) that no one would be able to buy it before you. Just a week ago, you complained to Soobin – very much on the verge of tears – that you saw it was sold and couldn’t handle it. He comforted you in that moment and told you that things happen for a reason. Back then, you were too distraught to notice the slight grin on his lips as he held you close. You look back at your partner.
He stands there proud, hands on his hips, chest puffed out. Without another word you stumble over the books and things laid about, throwing yourself into his arms. He laughs at the sudden push, steadying himself against the wall. Once he stabilizes himself, he holds you close, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.
“Like it?”
All you can do is nod into his chest, overcome with emotion. It might be a bit silly to other people, the way you’re reacting to a mere journal. But it means a lot to you. It’s something you’ve dreamed about holding in your hands for years, and he fulfilled your wish. You’re not sure anything else could top this. It's been a few days since the incident in the forest. Your life is as mundane as ever and you're thankful for it.
“I love you,” you whisper. “I really do love you."
“I know,” he murmurs back. “I love you more.”
“Shut up,“ you punch his chest lightly, ignoring the tears falling down your cheeks. “I can’t believe you spent so much – “
“Ah ah ah,” he presses his pointer finger against your lips, shushing you. “You’re not allowed to talk about the price. I know how you are.”
“But it’s so –“
“Beautiful, yes. It’s beautiful just like you,” he agrees, laughing at the frown on your face. His thumb wipes away your tears, “y/n, I know you’ve been trying to hide it. I know you don’t like it here. And I know you’ve been struggling with being ostracized by the townsfolk. I’ve noticed how it’s been affecting you. I’ve asked so many times if it was okay and you insisted that it is even though you feel otherwise. So, spending money on something you can enjoy is the least I can do. You’ve sacrificed a lot for me to have this bookstore. If I can make you happy, I’d do anything.”
Without another word you press your lips against his, a laugh escaping him as he holds you tight.
-
Seonghwa slams open the door, throwing his coat against the rack. He doesn't bother picking it up, majik floating it back to the hook. The others soon pour in, groaning at the lack of a sacrifice behind him another day more. Just as they begin to scold, Hongjoong enters first. Seeing the anger rising in Seonghwa, he tells the others to leave the room with a brief look. San looks the most worried, but Hongjoong pats him, a silent comfort. Once they’re all gone Hongjoong moves to his potions. He doesn't bother waiting for Seonghwa to speak, knowing that he would just let it brew until he explodes.
"Is it about that human again?"
Seonghwa meekly nods.
"What did you see?" He asks simply.
"A human, there was a human woman. But it wasn't like any other…" He trails off, mind lost. "I cannot explain it. But it didn't even flinch at my attempts to shift its mind. It only blinked at me, Hongjoong. I thought it might be because I haven't fed, so I tried it on another and it worked. How is that possible? Tell me.”
Hongjoong frowns, delicately balancing a glass between his fingers, “Delusions?”
“It was real!”
“Alright, no need to yell,” Hongjoong waves the steam from the glass through the air. “A human woman, you said? And you’re sure it wasn’t a Seelie teasing you?”
Seonghwa begins to pace back and forth. “There was no majik used while I was attempting to enter her head. But there was a wall, something blocking me from it. I tried to penetrate but stopped once I noticed my majik draining rapidly. No one was ever able to do anything like that to me. Never. In all honesty, I would have dragged her here to be tested but her human partner intercepted.”
“It made you out to be a fool,” Hongjoong teases, ignoring the glare he shoots at him. “It’s a human, Seonghwa. There isn’t a shield in their mind that you cannot penetrate. But it doesn’t matter now, you’ve brought the other with you, right?”
"The other…?"
"The human, Hwa. The one to feed on."
“Yes, but –”
“Then let the others feed. We can figure out this strange human later. Look in your literature if you must, but it shouldn’t be anything too odd. Perhaps it’s just an anomaly. Though it happens once a millennia, it is possible.”
“...So I shouldn’t worry?” His brows furrow, looking at his friend. Hongjoong places his glass on the side, moving closer to Seonghwa. He rests his fingers on his collarbone, slipping them beneath his cloak. Said man shivers at the touch, eyes shut. Hongjoong presses his lips against it. “Don’t distract me Joong.”
He grins into his skin, lightly pecking the skin before drawing back. “Don’t worry. After they feed, I can ask one of the others to see what’s wrong. Perhaps Wooyoung, he does enjoy mingling around humans. It might let something slip and we’ll figure out what’s going on.”
Seonghwa frowns, “He’s the last one that should go. San always has to chase after him when he does something unsightly.”
“First of all,” Wooyoung peers into the room through the crack in the door that he created several years ago (long story short: chasing after Jongho with a potion), “I am very well-behaved around humans. I haven’t done anything remotely unapproved in centuries, a millennia, even! One night out to woo the human isn’t going to cause a national tragedy.”
“Ah, do you recall Pompeii?” A voice from the hallway, Mingi probably, fading into the distance. Wooyoung glares, stepping into the room.
“That was one volcano.”
"You are a risk," Seonghwa says simply, turning back to Hongjoong. "It's fine. I’ll go. I’ll monitor and see if there is anything of concern, and I'll report back. It will be simpler that way," he glances at the pouting Wooyoung. "And much safer."
"Whatever," Hongjoong shrugs. "Not this time Wooyoung. We can't risk it. The human might already know more than we think. We have to play it safe for now."
Wooyoung frowns, "Mistake. He'll gut the human before we'll ever get the chance to meet her."
"Hey–"
"He won't," Hongjoong adds. "At least not yet. We have to convince her to come here so we can do testing. He can do it. Now let's go enjoy the feast with the others. The mood is too low around here." Seonghwa tries to catch his eyes but Hongjoong avoids them purposefully, fingers entwined with his as he drags him from the room, Wooyoung close.
Their home is rather large to house the leaders of the Unseelie. Meetings are often conducted from their parlor or garden. Maintained by the majik flowing through the air, they glide along the marble floors, vines curling around their furniture and sculptures. They can hear the music as they move closer to the others, need filling their minds. Feeding is scarce these days – humans are more wary of faeries now than ever. Balls and masquerades are rare, if ever. They've settled for one human every few weeks shared amongst them. Hongjoong encourages his friend to step forward, a sigh escaping his lips as the doors open.
The two enter the room, a disgruntled look on Seonghwa’s face, Hongjoong trailing after. The others sit in a circle as the human dances with San, twirling around in circles over and over again. Seonghwa slides in his designated seat next to Wooyoung, ignoring the grin he sends him.
“You’re tainting my good mood, Wooyoung.”
“Are you ever in a good mood? Weren’t you upset earlier that the special edition of that kit you wanted didn’t arrive yet? Before you left for that human again.”
Seonghwa widens his eyes, “It’s been over a year. They said it would ship out last week, but I never got a notification!”
“Oh woe is you,” Wooyoung teases, leaping from his seat when he sees Seonghwa’s arm rise. “Hey! You said no more flora!”
“It’s fungi this time,” Seonghwa frowns, but drops his hand. Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief, glancing at the two dancing. The human’s feet are bloodied now, stumbling over the jagged rocks on the ground. It cries, San’s laugh in juxtaposition at the sound. The smell of blood fills the air, Wooyoung's eyes darkening at the scent. The others begin to match his expression, surrounding the human. It does not understand what's happening because of the majik. They die as happy as they live. Seelie have more morally sound ways of killing humans but it is all the same in the end. The Unseelie just like to have more fun. San pulls the human’s face close to his, breathing in its essence. The human grows paler, slowly surrounded by the eight.
The echo of a body falling to the floor surrounds them.
-
"Sales have gone sour," Soobin reads over the end of day report, his frown creating lines decorating his forehead "Barely hit even today. It's like everyone's forgotten we exist."
"It will get better," you say softly, nudging him with your knee. He would usually give you a reassuring smile, but he doesn't react at all, narrowing his eyes. "Bin…"
"We can't continue like this," he murmurs. "Sales just keep going lower and lower. I've been here forever and it's never been this bad. I mean… Hell, my opening day I made more sales than today. And at that time no one knew I even opened the shop. I just don't get why they're not coming around anymore."
You. It's all you. They're afraid of you.
Soobin seems to read your flattened expression, shaking his head. "It's not you."
"It's been going downhill ever since I've been around. I’m the cause of it, Soobin. We can't just ignore that."
"It's a correlation, not causation. And people came in anyway. There's no valid reason why this would be all your fault, y/n. I promise you that."
“What else could it be then, Soobin? They’ve all told you that they don’t like me. You know that they avoid me every chance they get. People see me in the shop and turn the other way. I’m the one that’s continuing to burden you, and you know it,” you rub your face. “I thought in the beginning, coming here would somehow help you, bring this shop to where we want it to be. But it seems to be the opposite. It seems like… like my presence is everything wrong about this place–”
“You can’t keep blaming yourself,” he protests. He takes a step to you but you take one back, shaking your head. He drops his outstretched hands, a sigh escaping his lips. “Then what do you suggest? If you think it’s true?”
“I don’t know,” you admit. “Leave? Not you, just me. To see if the sales pick up. To see what’s really going on around here.”
He slowly shakes his head, “No.”
“Soo–”
“It’s like…” he furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s like you’re ignoring everything I tell you. I’ve told you so many times that we can leave if you’re uncomfortable. That we can leave together, but you insisted on staying here. Dealing with the people. And I know you’re doing it for me y/n, I know that. But I don’t want you to be miserable, and I don’t want you to live like this. I know we’re not at the stage of being life partners yet. I know we aren’t married. But sometimes it feels like you put your feelings below mine, and I just don’t think that’s okay you know? All it does is make me feel worse, and make you feel worse. I want us to talk about things. I don’t want you to leave the neighborhood by yourself. If you’re leaving, I’m leaving. That’s how it’s going to be. We stick together.”
“Soobin…” You close your eyes. “You love it here.”
“And I can find somewhere else I love. It’s not that hard.”
You want to listen to his words. It all makes sense. But he’s dreamt of having this bookstore here forever. In all honesty, even if you had to commute to see him every other day, you would if it made him happy. You’re just not too sure if he would be able to find somewhere else he loves as much as this small town. You’ve never seen him happier, except for right now.
“It is hard, Bin.”
The breath he lets out now feels more irritated. “You’re not even trying to compromise.”
“You love it here, Soobin! I don’t want to be the person to ruin your dream because people around here hate me and are isolating you from the neighborhood–”
“Fuck, y/n,” he slams his hand on the counter. “All we’re doing is speaking in circles. You want to leave me here alone, then what? What will happen when I thrive? Will you just never come here again? What? What’s the solution, hm?”
You open your mouth, then close it. He stares at you waiting for a response, but you have nothing. What would you do if it’s successful? Would you just leave him alone, never coming back? Are you holding him back? There’s so many questions without answers but you know one thing: everyone in this neighborhood hates you. And it’s ruining his bookstore.
“Would you break up with me?” He asks softer this time.
Without question you shake your head, “No. Of course not.”
“You mean more to me than this bookstore, y/n,” he says softly, picking his words carefully. “Plans are often disrupted when we least expect it. I can love somewhere else. We can be somewhere else, anywhere. I’d move across the ocean for you without question. That’s what love is. We compromise, we make choices for us, not just one of us. I’ll be happy with you, wherever we are,” his eyes soften as they look into yours. “Do you hear me?”
You nod slowly, letting him move closer and pull you into his embrace. His touch is comforting, despite the lump in your throat.
-
“We kill him.”
“He’s well-liked around town. It will be noticeable,” San points out.
“Is he really that significant?”
“Enough so that people would suspect the woman.”
Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s a good thing they suspect she’s the reason. She’s upset and we use it to our advantage. Humans need comfort when something unexpected happens in their lives, much more so than us. Her mind will be more open to change. It’ll be wise to have Wooyoung enter her life then. Convince her to come with him after a few weeks of getting to know each other.”
“Wooyoung,” San raises his brow. “Out of the eight of us, you believe that the trickster would be of comfort to a human woman mourning a relationship? What happened to Seonghwa going?”
“He’s a bit preoccupied with affairs from the Seelie. And what’s wrong with Woo? He’s silly, no?” Hongjoong says. “Humans enjoy humor.”
“I doubt she would enjoy it. His silliness is not in line with a human’s. We are Unseelie for a reason.”
“He’s your mate and yet you doubt him.”
“He’s our mate so you should doubt him in this case as well.”
Hongjoong pauses for a moment, thinking. Though he does not know of you as well as the others – they’ve researched your every move since you’ve stepped foot into existence – San has a bit of knowledge when it comes to humans. Hongjoong doesn’t often meander around the outside world. And his duties prevent him from doing so anyway. “Would Seonghwa suffice? We’ll just wait until he comes back?”
San deadpans, only causing Hongjoong to sigh.
“Well I know you hate being around humans, so who else do you suggest?”
There’s a knock on the door, before it hits the wall completely. The two of them turn. Yunho holds Wooyoung by his collar, the younger glaring at him before looking at the two in the room. His grin widens when he meets San’s eyes, a sigh escaping the latter.
“What have you done?” Is all that San utters.
Yunho speaks for him. “Perhaps Wooyoung was the best choice, since he broke orders and went to see her first.” Yunho lets go of him, stepping to the side. “Mingi caught him in the act before anything else could happen. We’ll have to produce another plan.”
“What did he do?” Hongjoong frowns.
“Perhaps,” Wooyoung slowly walks around the room. “I made the decision for us. He will no longer be a problem.” Yunho glares at the shorter man as he meanders around the tables, touching things he absolutely should not be handling. It takes a moment for Hongjoong to realize exactly what he means by his shallow words, a laugh escaping his throat.
“You killed him?”
He shrugs, “It was an issue that needed to be solved quickly. We can decide how to move forward now that the human is dead.”
“Does she know he is dead?”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “Of course not!”
“Joong, you should be more angry about this,” Yunho interrupts the conversation. “He blatantly went against our orders and did something that we were forbidden to do without knowledge. He should be punished.”
Despite Hongjoong’s leader position, he’s had a soft spot for Wooyoung since they’ve known each other. Since this Spark began. He was the last to be bound with the others, only making the leader more protective of him. Thus, spoiling him much more so in comparison to the others. It hasn’t truly been a problem. But in instances like this, when they’re so close to human affairs, they need to be more careful. So, despite his softened heart when he gazes at Wooyoung, Yunho is right. Hongjoong had to make an example.
“No stepping foot onto human land until I say.”
Wooyoung’s eyes widened, beginning to protest until he saw how serious Hongjoong looked. He meekly nodded, shooting Yunho a quick glare before exiting the room. Just as the door closes, Hongjoong rubs his forehead, thinking.
San stands in the same spot, glancing between the two. “Was it bloody?”
“Better to not describe it,” Yunho murmurs. “Mingi is there now. He’ll fix it.”
“Great,” Hongjoong sighs. “Well, now we have to conjure up something else.”
–
Days prior
The door creaks as you slowly open it, the smell of wet plywood and a distinct musk of cotton balls fills the home. Your eyes roam over the broken furniture, smashed television and endless amounts of shattered glass across the floor. You hold your breath, stepping into the empty spaces as you make your way around. Soobin is one of the kindest men you know; it’s almost comical to see everything destroyed. He valued everything that was broken. You just can’t wrap your head around the fact that he ruined it all. Because of a silly disagreement? You’ve had plenty of those. Why is this time different from the rest?
It seemed like it was solved that day. But the pressure between you two escalated. Each time the topic was brought up, he’d get angrier. Hated your explanations for wanting to go, and didn’t like the option of you wanting to stay. Nothing the two of you came up with satisfied the other, so it just climaxed into curt greetings in the morning, silent conversations in the evening. But you didn’t think it was this bad. This terrible, for him to leave your shared apartment like this.
Between the destruction, you spot a letter crumbled up on the floor. It takes everything within you to pick it up and see what it says. His words are scrawled, almost unrecognizable. As if he wrote it in a hurry. But it’s as clear as day.
I’m done.
Your eyes begin to shake, fingers gripping the paper so tightly it begins to rip. Without another word you take out your phone, dialing his number over and over again. It sends you to voicemail immediately – until at some point it says the line has been disconnected. He blocked you? He destroyed your shared home, your things, left a crumpled-up letter on the floor and then blocked you?
“Fuck,” you drop to your knees, staring at the disaster around you. You reach for your phone, immediately dialing the non-emergency line to report it. As the operator explains the steps for you to take, your own thoughts making her voice fade. So many questions rattled in your head, one stamped in the front of your mind.
What will you do now?
-
Now
Mingi rests on the branch, wings tucked to his sides as he observes your home another day in a row. From where he sits, he can see how anxiety ridden you are; cabinets opening and closing, drawers overflowing with clothing, tears staining your cheeks as you try to clean the mess. The others told him that humans felt emotions differently than fae. That they mourn for months on end, possibly years. It's not something he can quite understand, but he empathizes. At least he thinks he does. His head tilts as he watches you. He surely hopes you will forget the human sooner rather than later. Hongjoong promised he wouldn't attempt to coax your mind to fall for their charms. Insisted that you'd do it on your own. But this destruction, it makes him worry.
Not for himself, of course. He feels nothing for you. What he worries about is his spark. About how much they care about you. So even if Hongjoong promised he'd never bind you to them with a spell… well.
Mingi never gave such a promise.
It’s true; he didn't like you. He didn't like that you were in his family's life without even knowing it yet. He didn't like that you were making his spark so happy. How could a human who barely interacted with them have such a pull? It makes no sense entirely. But what else would he be able to do? Coax you into leaving? The others would be angry with him, furious even. The thought of binding you to them immediately vanishes the more he thinks about it. Humans being involved with faeries only lead to bad outcomes. He wouldn’t dare make that certain with a spell.
He knew that humans felt emotions differently than fae. He knew that you were still grieving the loss of you and your partner’s relationship despite it being weeks ago. But he didn't care. He watched as you paced back and forth, your hands shaking as you swept the floor. He watched as you cried, your tears staining your cheeks. He watched as you tried to clean your destroyed home, and he still felt nothing. Well, annoyance, maybe. Having to watch you to make sure nothing strange happens.
He can remember how he came to Wooyoung, noticing the smell of blood over him mixed with majik. Mingi didn’t say a word about it at first, until he noticed the strange look on Wooyoung’s face. The way his eyes dilated, the scattered look in his gaze. Faeries, you see, Unseelie like them, feeding off a human gives them this sort of increase in energy. Makes their abilities much stronger than before. But there are times when an Unseelie feeds too much, too often. When the feeling consumes them, it makes them much more dangerous than before. Mingi hasn’t seen it in a while so it was easy to recognize it consuming his mate. The distant look. Immediately flying to your home, seeing the blood everywhere. It took him so long to fix it up enough so that you wouldn’t notice a thing. Wouldn’t notice the strong smell of death in the apartment. And just as a precaution, he decided to stay and watch you. To make sure he didn’t miss a thing.
You fall to the floor, sobs echoing around the small space. His eyes narrow for a moment, a strange thought almost escaping his parted lips.
He wonders if you will be alright.
-
“Did she take it well?” Hongjoong asks Mingi, lips quirked when he sees the frown on his cheeks. “It is only a minor setback. It should be over soon.”
It’s several days later when Hongjoong calls Mingi into his room. Mingi doesn’t really like entering, the mess is a bit overwhelming sometimes. But he sees that he fixed it up enough for him to tolerate it. A small gesture of kindness in a strange situation.
“She will be devastated for months on end.”
“She will get over it.”
Mingi’s brow furrows. “Though I don’t know humans well enough to make a judgment, I think it’s safe to say that her getting over it won’t happen for a while. You’re overestimating her emotional state, Hongjoong. She was crying over a photo of them together. She cried over human utensils.”
Hongjoong snickers, shrugging, “What can I do? Her human partner is already deceased somewhere along the valley. It’s not like I can bring him back to life again. Playing with Death isn’t wise, you know. Even for an Unseelie. Plus,” he wiggles his fingers. “I promised that I wouldn’t manipulate her mind to care for us. Nothing else I can do. Maybe Yunho or Jongho could cheer her up, they seem to care for her the most.”
“They don’t know her. None of us do.”
“They seem to know enough.”
Mingi could read between the lines. Hongjoong’s dance around the truth is almost humorous now. The word seem. He lines his sentences with it often, using it to twist a lie enough to be partially true. Though Seonghwa was the one who was most interested in the beginning – mostly to dissect her – Hongjoong’s interest is slowly rising. Especially since the others are focused on her more now.
What is this human doing to his spark? None of them even know you in the slightest except for some background details. What is this quite random obsession with a human? Especially one as mundane and ordinary as you?
“You look irritated,” Hongjoong notes, flipping through his papers. “Letting those emotions dwell isn’t good for you.”
“You all care for this stranger too much, it’s infuriating.”
Hongjoong grins, “Or do you just care for her too little?”
Mingi closes his eyes for a moment, a harsh gust of air escaping his nose. He pinches it slightly, eyes flicking back to his friend. “We aren’t supposed to care for humans at all.”
“And yet here we are, doing that exact thing.”
“Stop saying we,” Mingi frowns, Hongjoong’s eyes lighting up.
“So is it not true, then? Do you not care for her?”
“I care that she is affecting everyone."
"Not unlike a faerie, twisting your words," Hongjoong giggles.
"Hongjoong," Mingi sighs. "We can't continue like this. There has to be something done. I can't continue to pretend like everything is fine when it's the opposite."
This time, the giggle slowly disappearing from Hongjoong’s expression. He nods solemnly. "And it will be dealt with. It will take time, Mingi. We can't mess up. Not now when tensions are so high between us and the Seelie. If there is something different about her, majik or otherwise, we have to figure it out. It may ease the tension if only momentarily. She seems like a decent human no? I can bet that she will be willing to sacrifice her well being for an important cause."
"You think a human would care about faeries that feed on humans?"
Hongjoong shrugs, "Either that, or we take her unwillingly. It's her choice in the end."
"Not much of one."
Hongjoong grins, "Well she doesn't need to know that."
-
Seonghwa picks up his book, flicking through the pages. Nothing stands out. There isn’t any record of a human being that has resisted the charm of a faerie from what he can see. Not any ordinary humans, at least. But he found you unextraordinary. Nothing makes you stand out from the crowd, nothing that catches his eye. You just happened to be at the right place, right time. Interesting how circumstances led him to gloss over these pages, desperate to find a reason why you are the way you are. Is it a natural defense? Has human evolution created subspecies that are resistant to the charm of a Unseelie?
If that is so, they’re existence on this Earth will begin to fade.
His fingers grip the research papers, jaw tightening. The words running through his head annoy him, but there’s nothing else he can do. He must dissect you. But how will he get you here? How will your disappearance go unnoticed in such a small town? How will he separate your mind from that tall human you call your partner?
“Your thoughts are plastered on your face, Hwa,” Yeosang steps into the room, tailed by San. Seonghwa has noticed that they are often together, the eldest of the two ignoring San’s presence most of the time. But all of them can see through it. Despite how aloof Yeosang is, he adores the attention given to him. Swims in it, even. So, as it always is, Yeosang barely gives the man a glance, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “I heard about this human you found.”
“It’s resistant, Yeosang. I can’t have it roaming around without us knowing why we can’t charm it. There must be a reason.”
“Like in the movies,” San widens his eyes, nudging Yeosang. “The one person who has the cure!”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “This isn’t a zombie flick.”
“You don’t know that. We could be in one right now.”
Yeosang snorts, San puffing up his chest. Despite how irritated Seonghwa is, his lips crack into a small smile, only boosting San’s ego. He closes his notebook, rubbing his face. “I have to know why.”
“Have to, or want to?” Yeosang asks, brow raised. “We could just leave it as is. If another human found out about it, it could lead down a rabbit hole.”
“Let her go?” Seonghwa frowns. “Wooyoung already interfered. Letting it all go won’t end well.”
“You will take her then? Run tests to see why she’s resistant? It would be difficult to pull her from her life, but humans already suspect that she’s a bad luck charm in her village. It’s not like they’d be unhappy she’s gone,” Yeosang sniffs a jar, face contorting at the smell. “Rancid.”
“It’s frog intestines boiled in a rat’s tail and mermaid essence,” Seonghwa murmurs, Yeosang covering his face to keep from gagging. “But how do you know about that? Were you researching?”
San speaks up this time, “Jongho visited her at the bookstore her partner owns. Well, owned. It wasn’t long until he heard whispers of the villagers talking about getting rid of her because of the disappearances that have been happening ever since she arrived in town. And now it's her partner.”
“It’s not even her fault,” Yeosang adds.
“Humans are disloyal,” Seonghwa tsks. “But it is best for us I suppose. They will probably bask and rejoice in her disappearance.”
"That's a bit pitiful. It doesn't come as a surprise that she wanted to leave so badly. I wouldn't want to be around people that hate me either."
"But now she won't leave because she doesn't know what happened to that Soobin. The mystery of his disappearance may cause her to stay for a long time. A lot of humans aren't able to move on from partners that are gone," Seonghwa rubs his face. "It's difficult to know what to do without seeing her."
"Go," Jongho enters the room, Mingi just behind him. Both drenched in sweat from their training session, Seonghwa's nose wrinkles in disgust when he sees fluids drip onto his floor. "Visit her. I'll join if you'd like."
"Not necessary. Mingi," Seonghwa's focus moves to the taller of the two. Mingi raises his brow. "Was she distraught?"
He nods slowly. "Very much so. That was a few weeks ago though. She may have calmed down. But there is no guarantee; we all know how emotional humans are."
“You’re sensitive to emotions Seonghwa, are you sure you’re willing to go there? Humans irritate you to no end,” Wooyoung murmurs. “I can go –”
“You messed up the last time, Wooyoung. And back then we didn’t even tell you much about her. There’s no telling what you’ll do now. It’s better if you’re not interested at all,” San wraps his arm around his neck, tugging him out the room. The door closes slightly behind them. Yeosang, Mingi, and Jongho remain in the room with Seonghwa.
Idle conversation swirls around the room as they speak softly, Seonghwa gathering up his belongings. His curiosity greatly surpasses his lack of care for humankind. If there is someone like you out there, how many more are the same? He can remember the conversation you had with your partner - how you were afraid of something being off. It was Seonghwa of course, but rarely has a human ever felt the chills of faeries around them. So many things don’t come to proper conclusions in his head and he needs to know. For the safety of himself and every person in this home. Perhaps for the fate of the Unseelie entirely.
He leaves the library, book tucked underneath his arm. He enters his room, barely giving Hongjoong - who rests in his bed - a glance. He listens as he stands up from the sheets, an arm wrapping around his waist, tugging him closer.
Hongjoong presses his lips against his back, humming. “There’s no need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders. The human probably doesn’t even know of its resistance to your lure. It may just be one in a billion.”
“I have to make sure. It’s for all of us, not just me,” Seonghwa says, pulling away from his hold. It’s something they often do - Hongjoong tries to pull him closer only for Seonghwa to pull away. It’s happened ever since the beginning. “You know that. You should be more worried than me.”
“Why worry about a silly little human?” Hongjoong snorts. “She will die in a few decades anyway.”
“It seems like I’m the only one who cares about her existence,” Seonghwa lifts his clothes and tosses them, replacing them with a more human-like outfit. He barely gives himself a look in the mirror, a scowl etched on his features. How humans have not moved past such hideous outfits is beyond him. “I would kill her if it weren’t for the unknown.”
“Everyone and this little human,” Hongjoong sighs. “Fine. Do whatever you’d like. Just be back for the council meeting. The other Unseelies don’t quite approve of the recent killings we’ve done.”
Seonghwa furrows his brows, “Since when did they care about our dealings?”
“Since they’ve begun to notice the pattern of disappearances. Humans are not exactly happy with us, even though they don’t have a method of killing us.”
“Then me interacting with her now is important,” Seonghwa quickly grabs his bag. “I’ll be back with my findings. And I won’t kill her. At least not right now.” he glances at his leader. “Don’t wait for me if I’m not back for the meeting.”
“Hwa-”
He disappears just as Hongjoong begins to speak. Hongjoong stares blankly at the place he once was, brows furrowed. Just what is it about this human that has everyone losing their minds? He purses his lips, lifting himself off the bed. Soon enough he’ll find out for himself.
-
Seonghwa slowly enters the bookstore. The bell rings against the glass pane of the door, his steps hesitant. There isn't anyone around the bookstore, soft music playing. He tucks his hands into his coat pocket, unaccustomed to the cold environment. His eyes roam around, books neatly stacked, signs arranged in alphabetical order. It warms his heart a bit to see organization – his own library doesn't see it as much as he'd like. The quick steps of a human running pulls his thoughts away, eyes flicking over to you.
You hold a couple of books in your hand, hair unkempt and eyes filled with exhaustion. A pen tucked behind your ear, you give him a sincere smile, placing the books in a neat stack on the counter.
"Welcome to our bookstore!" You say happily, meeting the eyes of the stranger. Just as you do, your thoughts move back to over a month or so ago. The festival. The stranger in the woods. Your smile wavers for a moment as you look at him. He looks as ordinary as a man with unreal beauty can look. Perhaps you were a bit out of it at the time. Still, you remain wary, inching closer to the counter behind you.
"Hello, I’m Seonghwa," he says softly. His voice is deep, eyes dark as he stares at you. His hair is darker than any black you've seen, even the shade of brown in his eyes more black than anything else. His clothing choice is odd as well - a thin graphic tee and slacks covering sports shoes. Completely and utterly different from the well-dressed man in a cloak you witnessed in the forest. He looks uncomfortable in it as well, tugging slightly on the fabric. You swallow slowly, forcing another grin on your lips.
"Hi, I’m y/n. How can I help you?"
"I'm quite new to venturing out into town," he steps around, fingertips stroking the top of a stack of new hardcovers. "The others told me of a bookstore and a café together in one. If you don't mind, I'd like to look around and perhaps have a drink. Whenever you are ready to prepare?"
You push the eerie feeling away, agreeing. "Of course. What would you like, then?"
Seonghwa sits himself at your favorite spot - a small loveseat situated near the front windows. The same place Soobin and you would rest after a long day, counting tills. The light shines on him as he ponders, eyes flicking over the assortment of sweets and drink displays behind you. You take a step to the side and he sends you a small thank you in the form of a smile. He leans, gazing at your open cabinets. "Anything with saffron. Or sweet, I do quite enjoy that."
You ponder for a moment, before opening your cabinet and retrieving your tea leaves. You take out the honey as well, not noticing how his eyes widen at the jar. You take out the milk as well, glancing at Seonghwa. "Milk tea with honey? I should have some cookies around…" You mumble, digging through the drawer. "Soobin usually eats it all."
"Soobin?" His brows furrow.
You pause.
"Yes, my partner. Former partner. The person who owns this place," you raise your brow. There's an unreadable look on his face, but it doesn't linger long enough for you to consider what it was. Setting the water to a boil, you slide back into your seat, humming. "There's a small farmhouse just next to the Rowan trees that I'm looking to buy. Just a few more days until I find out if I get it or not." It’s outside of the town enough that you’d still be able to live comfortably. Moving into the city right now is on the bottom of your list. And even if you do decide to leave, at least you’ll have a place to fall back on. It isn’t too expensive since it’s been abandoned for years now.
"You're married?" He asks, thanking you as you pass him his tea and the honey jar.
"No, it’s complicated right now. I’m not too sure where he is if I'm being honest.”
You see the puzzled look on his face, and quickly clear it up.
“We had a falling out not too long ago. That’s why the shop looks this way. But yeah, I planned on moving soon. At least when I found something more stable," you think. Though the two of you were friends before partners, Soobin always gave little answer or thought to marriage. In fact, he said he started to consider it only when you brought it up. That was three years ago. Now, you don’t even know where he is, or if he’s coming back.
"Are you sure about that?" He raises his brow.
“About what?”
“Finding somewhere else. I remember you mentioning that this place looks a bit…” he trails off. “But it looks fine to me. Perhaps a bit too orderly for a small town bookstore.”
You blink quickly. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Not a problem,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his tea.
You move away from him then, grabbing your stack of books off the table and going back to work. The fear of him being around you has subsided. Though there is still a mysterious cloud around him, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before in your travels through the city. You curse yourself for even mentioning Soobin, placing the books on the shelves. You probably drove away another customer in your whines to the stranger.
You glance back at him and see that he's reading one of the magazines you've left on the table, sipping his tea. How someone could look elegant while sitting in a t-shirt is beyond your understanding.
"Do you enjoy the town?" You ask, finishing your task. He looks up from the magazine.
"It's quite alright. Just like any other small town. Intrusive townspeople, curious eyes following you wherever you go. Clovers to drive away mysterious creatures of the night," his lips lift. "Ah, speaking of that…"
The bell rings, your focus on the door. A few patrons enter, distracting you. Just as you finish helping and guiding their questions away from your missing boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, whatever he is – you look over to the loveseat and see it empty. Seonghwa must have slipped away while you were distracted. Resting beneath the teacup is way too much money. With a small note wrapped around it.
Thank you for the tea.
Next to the sentence lies a small drawing of a four-leaf clover.
—
You stare at the computer, frustration growing. The webpage doesn't help you in the slightest. Lines and lines of retellings of the same old tales. Faeries are dangerous, stay away from the fae. Don't listen to the fae, don't accept gifts from them. The same things over and over. Words that have been embedded into your very being. Nothing of which is news to you. Your eyes flick to the small list you've created, summarizing everything you've read thus far and narrowing it to a few points.
How to survive an encounter with an Unseelie fae [fǣġe]:
Do not eat what they offer. Do not drink what they offer.
Majik always has a price, do not risk a deal. Do not ask for them to save a loved one. Do not ask for them to take your firstborn. Do not accept any offer they may give you.
Do not invite them into your home.
Faeries cannot lie. Because of this, they are eloquent with their words. Do not be fooled.
Do not summon an Unseelie.
If you see something strange, leave immediately. Four leaf clovers are a sign of a faerie near.
Do not celebrate with faeries. Under any circumstances.
Do not enter the forest at night.
If you are followed by a crow or raven, enter the nearest home and do not leave until it is gone. The Unseelie are following you.
Do not fall in love with a faerie, they will not love you the same.
"This is so insane," You put your head in your hands. Maybe that's why Soobin left. He saw how you'd turn out before you even did. You snort at the thought, rubbing your face. Seonghwa's drawing of the four-leaf clover could be just a coincidence. It's not like it isn't an obvious symbol painted and carved into almost every building around town. And yet, the way he's acted, the stares you felt on you when your back was turned – something was off with him. Even if he isn't a faerie, he's something.
Or you're truly just being silly.
You stare at the list again, adding one more point.
Faeries are not affected by four-leaf clovers.
#fic: wonderwall#ateez x reader#seonghwa x reader#hongjoong x reader#yunho x reader#yeosang x reader#san x reader#mingi x reader#wooyoung x reader#jongho x reader#ateez fanfiction#ateez angst#ateez fluff#ateez fanfic
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The Sweetest Thing
Summary: It’s your Steve’s birthday, and you let him do whatever he wants to you.
Word count: 2.0K
Warning: SHAMELESS SMUT!! Steve is being nasty & unhinged. Oral (male receiving), face-fucking, & vaginal sex, creampied, Dirty talk (ooc ??? lol)
A/N: It’s that time of the year where I write Steve’s fic again, folks! Hope you liked it! Please do heed the warning that this Steve is a bit OOC. Also, it’s been a while that I write anything, so I please be kind. I’m a little rusty. No beta either, so if I missed anything, I apologize in advance. Reblog & comment is greatly appreciated and mean so much!!
** Do not copy, repost, or translate my works anywhere else !!
Hot and humid breath danced across your skin as his lips traced along the column of your neck, leaving trails of goosebumps in its wake. The heat from his body radiated off of him and enveloped you with nothing but his scent lacing with the sweetness of the wine–fresh, sweet, and warm just like the month of July.
His large palm grasped at your soft mound, squeezing gently at first before he let it trailed off along your waist then down and around the swell of your ass. Steve’s hand lingered there for a long moment before he gave you a big squeeze.
You melted into his touches–completely surrendering yourself to him. After all, it was his birthday, and you did promise him that he could use you however he wanted.
A surprised yelp slipped past your lips as he lifted you briefly and pressed your body against the wall. You hissed at the duality between the warmness of his hard body and the cold wall.
His hardness pressed against your aching pussy as it throbbed at the emptiness, wishing he would fill you up with that thick cock of his. Every part of you was so hyper-aware of him, it was almost painful.
Another shuddering moan left your lips when you felt his teeth graze gently along your jawline. Sweet nothing muttered under his breath like an incantation, lulling you further into this haze. Your arms snaked around his neck as if you were holding on to the last sanity he left you with as he began to grind his bulge right into your needy pussy.
Your soft whimper filled the room as the grinding continued. You wished he would give you more–anything, even if it was just the tip of his finger.
But you were at the mercy of his will when you said the words out loud the morning of his birthday.
Use me. Let me be your toy tonight.
Normally Steve would have blushed and flustered, but after all the teasing you have been doing to him for the past couple of days, he was more than ready to retaliate.
“Need you,” you managed to whimper out loud as he was sucking on your pulse point. “Please…”
Steve didn’t answer. Instead, his mouth trailed down to wrap around your stiff nipple, tugging gently at it until you whined in protest. His cheeks hollowed to create suction around your sensitive mound, sucking so loudly that it was the only sound that filled your ears.
Thoughts of the others walking in on both of you didn’t really cross your mind until now. What would Bucky and Sam think of you in this state of undress with lipstick smeared across your lips and being used by Steve like this?
“You’re thinking too hard again, sweetheart,” Steve murmured. “Thought you’re supposed to be my fuck toy. Fuck toy don’t think, remember?”
Under normal circumstances, you would have said something back to him, but it was his birthday, and you did give him permission to do whatever he wants. Plus, hearing Steve say those filthy words out loud just makes your pussy throb even harder for him. He had always been Mr. Perfect–so prim and proper, rarely cussed. Oh but now, you got him so worked up and so needy, that you got to see another side of Steve.
“Stevie, please…,” you pleaded as you ground your pussy against him, but he suddenly pushed you back and held you there as he stared at you with dark pupils blown wide, drowning out those baby blues.
“Why don’t you be a good girl and get on that table for me?”
You hastily climbed up the table and laid there, thighs spread apart so that Steve could get a clear view of your drenching pussy.
“Baby girl, you’re so wet for me…” he said under his breath. His cheeks flushed deep red as he stalked toward you with big strides.
You could clearly see the impressive tent of his bulge pressing against the pants, almost to the point where the button was about to pop out.
Steve noticed that you were staring, and he made it a show as he began to unbutton his shirt carelessly, popping off the buttons as they scattered across the floor. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched the way his stiff muscles glistened under the light.
You eyed the dark blond hair that dusted along the hard ridges of his abdomen and swallowed as it disappeared under his waistband. Every molecule in your body practically screamed for him, yet Steve took his time climbing up the dining table.
Your breath hitched in your throat as he knelt astride your body. You watched him carefully as he began to undo his pants. You found yourself licking your lips when he took out his cock and started to stroke it mindlessly. He was already long and hard, and you just knew he was going to fuck your brain out.
Without a thought, you reached out to him, wanting to stroke him as well, but Steve suddenly pinned you down. His breath fanned across your face as he stared down at you.
“Since you want to be used by me so much, why don’t you be a good girl and open your mouth for me? Let me see how good of a fuck toy you are for me, baby girl.”
Steve moved to knelt astride your head, his hand pumped along his shaft lazily as he waited for you to open up.
Without a word of protest, you opened your mouth for him, and Steve took his time, probing the fat pink tip of his cock against your lips, teasing and smirking as you struggled to wrap your lips around him. Not a second too long, he caved in and began to push the head inside your mouth, watching you slowly swallow him inch by inch until you couldn’t anymore.
He let out a strangled moan as you began to suck on him. His eyes rolled to the back of his skull at the sensation. Steve muttered something incoherently as the desirous fire burst through his body and straight through his balls.
“Such a good fuck toy you are, sweetie…just look at the way you’re sucking my cock makes me wanna come already…,” he said as he continues to roll his hips, fucking your mouth as you lay there.
You couldn’t answer him except for the soft moaning against his dick in your mouth, and Steve felt like he was about to come then and there. Every part of him was straining from the effort of holding it in alone.
You gagged and choked several times when Steve fucked into your mouth too deep. He was nice enough to pull back and let you catch your breath while he examined his work, watching you turn into an incoherent mess under him. Oh what a sight, he mused as he watched the way your eyes were tearing up and the way your makeup got ruined by him.
“Look at you so eager to suck my cock…You want to be fucked hard, don’t you sweetie?”
You nodded eagerly, wiping your face as you sat up and hiking your dress even further up.
“Please, Stevie….I need you so bad,” you whined. “I’ve been so good for you, so please…?”
“Please what?” he smirked, his fingers trained down to your drenching pussy, stroking at the slippery seam. He would occasionally press the tip of his fingers against your folds and pushed them in just enough to make you whine, but not enough to draw out any pleasure. He was a tease, alright.
“Please fuck me,” you pleaded, rolling your hips to meet his fingers.
Steve pretended to think for a long moment as he knelt there, teasing you to the point where your body was trembling under him.
“Hmmm, but it’s up to me to decide though, right?” he eyed you as he pushed a single finger inside you. Your body tensed instantly as you locked eyes with him. “I can certainly fuck you with just this, and you can’t do a thing about it, right?”
You nodded as you relished the way his finger felt inside you, but you both knew it wasn’t enough, especially when you had a taste of his cock before.
“Please, Stevie…I’ll be a good girl,” you pleaded again as you rocked against his fingers. “Please…need your cock so badly.”
Steve didn’t say anything, but he continued to tease you, fucking you with just his finger until he was bored enough to add another finger in.
“God, I love it when you beg for me so prettily,” he murmured. “I supposed I’ll be nice and let you have it since you were so eager to suck my dick.”
Steve moved to stand at the end of the table, and he quickly discarded his pants and boxers. With a swift movement, you found yourself being grabbed by the ankles and being pulled toward him until your ass was hanging off the wooden table.
He draped your legs over his broad shoulders and probed the head of his cock against your folds before slowly pushing himself in. A deep, guttural moan seemed to emit from his chest as he sheathed himself all the way inside you.
Noises seemed to leave you when he began to move–slowly at first as if he was testing the way, and surely Steve began to set the pace, fast and brutal to the point where the noise of your body collided with the house. It was loud and wet, and oh so good. Every time he pushed a little too hard, you felt like you were being torn apart and put back together again simultaneously.
He was fast and brutal, and you didn’t care. You enable him to be this way. You wanted tongue and teeth, and Steve delivered just that.
It was too overwhelming. No other thought filled your head except for the way his cock was practically tearing you into pieces, and you loved every second of it. Every time he felt your wall flutter around him, Steve would cease his movement and watch you look up at him with teary eyes. He knew he was being mean but not letting you come, but he was holding the reign here, and you were at his mercy at this point.
He knew he was close as well by the way his balls would tighten up. Every movement was bringing him closer to the edge. When he knew he couldn’t hold it in anymore, he reached down to where you and he joined and began to rub your clit while he was moving in and out of. Your body instantaneously reacted to him. Before you knew it, you came with a soft cry while Steve plunged into you with a brutal pace.
He didn’t stop until he came hard inside you. He was gritting his teeth as he stood there, filling you up until he was dripping out onto the floor. Your body felt heavy and boneless. All you could do was stare at Steve with bleary eyes.
Not a moment too long, his lips found you with a gentle kiss that you could swear makes your toes curl if you weren’t too worn out already. Both of your bodies were slicked with sweat. His blond hair stuck to his forehead. His face flushed, and his breathing was heavy.
“You ok?” He asked, blue eyes filled with concern as he eyed the aftermath. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You shook your head and sat up, wrapping your legs around his taut waist. “No. It was perfect,” you told him before placing a long kiss on his lips.
“Good because it’s not midnight yet, and I want to make sure I make good use of your gift,” he said before carrying you off the table with little effort. “I hope you’re ready for another round, Mrs. Rogers,” He smirked before carrying off into your bedroom.
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers fanfiction#captain america x reader#captain america x you#captain america x female reader#steve rogers imagine#captain america imagine
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devils roll the dice.
〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
event | kinkmas 2023
prompts | sex tape + medfet
pairing | hitman!robert pronge x innocent!reader
warnings | extremely dark, the darkest thing i've ever written (we've entered dead dove do not eat territory; please heed ALL warnings.) canon-level mature themes: kidnapping, torture films, murder. implications that reader will be killed. robert is cold and ruthless. innocent!virgin!reader. filming of illicit sex tape. reader is blindfolded and gagged. restraints. medfet elements: robert's little setup is giving vintage white tile exam room, exam table, stirrups, those gd black gloves, speculum use. clit focus (puff puff content incoming.) vibrator. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. mocking and degradation. robert puts a cig out on reader's leg. written in 3rd person idk.
word count | 1,485
an | i'm kind of sitting here like wtf, ,, what is this and how did it come out of me lol. a little nervous to post, but i trust you guys to make responsible decisions about the media you consume!!! i'll probably never write something this fucked up again but for whatever reason it was just flowing out of me tonight folks, please again i'm begging you go read the warnings, like a second time through wouldn't hurt lol, and i hope you enjoy!!
Bringing its bitter end to his lips, Robert used one hand to draw in a deep breath of his dwindling cigarette, the other lazily holding a black magic wand in its designated place. He was nearly an hour into the day's filming session, and his subject was reaching a level of exhaustion and misery that made her more annoying to play with than anything else. But knowing he needed to milk at least a little more footage out of her before putting her back under and calling it a day, the man kept at the task. He tried to remind himself that he should be enjoying himself; considering the kinds of commissions he generally had to choose from, this particular case was a treat. A pretty little virgin, as soft and pure as the early spring rain, with the most stunning body the criminal had ever had the privilege of defiling. He could spend another thirty minutes at his station, watching as all the life and dignity were drained out of his poor little victim like blood dripping to the cold tile floor.
Through the musty cloth rammed between her battered lips, the poor girl's cries were escalating as her tormentor swirled the curve of the wand's slick bulb over her burning clit. Robert knew what her worsening wails meant; with a callous grin, he pulled his cig from his mouth just in time to press its smoking end to the girl's inner thigh as she came. With the howl she let out, he was thankful for the buffer the gag provided. "Noisy little bitch," he laughed as her juices sprayed out against his gloved hands. "That's it, slut. Fucking take it."
Glancing at the camcorder sitting off to his side, Robert considered his options. As much satisfaction as he derived from seeing how many orgasms could be wrung out of the poor thing before her body knocked her out as an act of mercy, his sadistic tendencies were getting bored of the monotony. Tossing the used cigarette to the floor, the man slowed the wand to a stop. He rolled away slightly on his stool, tossing the condom that was wrapped over the toy's head into the large black trash bag sitting in the center of the large room's floor. This far into his career, Robert had his methods down to a science. There was a way to keep everything clean, everything untraceable.
It was the whole purpose of his "worksite"; it provided a secure, controlled environment for the entire job to take place in, from start to flatline finish. The "set" was by far his favorite portion of the space, and understandably so, as it's where his sick imagination got to run wild for hours, days on end. And his clients were just as enthusiastic about the vivid stage he had put together for their subjects to shine on. It was somewhat inspired by a vintage gynecology office. He had the classic off-white exam table, equipped with a daunting pair of metal stirrups that were always positioned just a little wider than what would be comfortable. A sturdy set of restraints were of course a must, and to make sure the camera picked up on every agonizing detail, he had installed an adjustable surgical light overhead that could be aimed and drawn in to illuminate any area or action he chose. He hadn't struggled to gather all the tools and instruments he could ever want, either. A few of his buyers were licensed professionals themselves, opening the door to acquiring inventory from the big-name brands in bulk.
The other corners of the room had their designated uses as well: one with a filthy mattress for the unconscious victims to waste away on as heavy drugs pumped through their systems, another with large plastic sheets covering the floor, walls, and ceiling where the poor souls were hosed down (inside and out) before a bullet to the temple inevitably ended their long days of suffering. But most of their waking hours were spent on that dreaded padded table, the very spot where Robert's most recent capture was using the few moments he spent away from his station desperately trying to regain control of her breathing.
He returned to his position swiftly after switching out his soiled pair of black gloves for fresh ones, not wanting to waste any of his or his client's time. The sight of the girl's abused sex was enough to make the man drool; it had been quite some time since he had seen such a marvelous-looking cunt, so glorious in its messy destruction. Knowing he should share the beautiful sight, he took the time to adjust the camera, zooming in from a full-body shot to focus solely on the spot between the victim's legs. With the humiliating inspection he was preparing to perform, he wanted to be sure his buyer got to see each drop of come the poor girl let out, every twitch and spasm he would pull from her helpless body.
"Now let's see here," the man breathed as he brought his gloved fingers up to gently spread out the ruined-looking pussy before him. Noticing the way his subject winced as her puffy folds were pried open, he couldn't help but laugh in dark delight. He drew his attention to her throbbing clit, noting how much it had grown in size from all those unwanted orgasms he had forced out of her. Its hood was completely retracted, leaving the poor bud exposed to the open air. In a moment of perverted curiosity, Robert pinched the hardened nub harshly between his fingers, earning the prettiest sob he had heard from the girl all day. He chuckled once more, rolling and pulling at the knot of flesh for a few more seconds of additional torture before finally moving his hands away.
"What do you think? Should we try for one more?" he mused mockingly as he grabbed a plastic speculum from one of the drawers built in beneath the table, unwrapping it and tossing its trash to the side before pausing to grin deviously over his victim. Glancing up at her head, he realized it was still covered with a black hood he had put on her at the beginning of the shoot. The buyer had requested for her to be blindfolded like this for a decent portion of the film, offering the explanation that she was "afraid of the dark," and that he wanted to see her in as much pain and fear as humanly possible. The hood had served its purpose for the day, but now, Robert wanted the poor girl to see each and every way he was going to be violating her body in real time. In one swift motion, he reached up and pulled the pocket of fabric away, exposing her stunning tear-stained face. "Hi sweetheart," he greeted viciously. Just as he was hoping, her cries worsened as she saw the dreaded tool in his hands. He had a certain liking for holding up the devices he was preparing to use to see his victim's reactions; after all, he got off on fear and dread just as much as his clients did.
"Time to open up this pretty little cunt and see what kind of damage we did," the man enthused as he forced the tip of the instrument into the girl's drenched opening. By now, she had been well stretched out and ruined by her captor's horrific methods. Grappling with his usual lack of restraint and self-control, Robert had barely made the drive back with the girl tied up in his trunk without pulling over and popping that perfect little cherry on his own time, without a single camera properly rolling.
Turning the speculum as it was fully inserted, the man took great pleasure in squeezing the handle to force the tool open, each tiny click that sounded only stretching the poor thing's aching walls out to a further, more painful degree. "There," he sighed in satisfaction as the last notch was reached. Pulling his hands away, he gave himself and the camera a few seconds to enjoy the view of the girl's milky insides, so worn and sore from the days of torture she'd endured.
"Alright. One more," he finally hummed, using his gloved fingers to collect some of the plentiful slick dripping from the speculum before dragging them up to find that adorable little button he loved bullying so much. Her fading sobs were revived in an instant, her throat growing hoarse from all the screaming she'd done. But as much as she cried, Robert was determined to get one final orgasm from her before putting her back under for the day. After spending so much time making that pretty pussy as puffy and sensitive as possible, he deserved to see it coming all stretched out painfully over his instrument of choice.
#eun's writing#devils roll the dice#kinkmas 2023#robert pronge#robert pronge fanfiction#robert pronge smut#mr freezy#mr freezy fanfiction#mr freezy smut#dark!robert pronge#dark!mr freezy#robert pronge x reader#robert pronge x y/n#robert pronge x you#robert pronge imagine#robert pronge one shot#robert pronge blurb#robert pronge drabble#robert pronge headcanon#the iceman#the iceman fanfiction#chrise evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut
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Foolish
*Heed warnings*
Pairing: Jatemme Manning x Bratty!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, Filth, cursing, PIV, size kink, mentions of violence, gun use, drug use, brat reader. Reader does get turned on by violence, if this disturbs you click away. All consensual. Established relationship. Heavy use of n-word.
Summary: You are tired of being Jatemme's arm candy. Forever guarded and without 100% of his attention. As the race for Alderman heats up, you're at a fundraising event when you grow bored and decide to test Jatemme's devotion.
Word Count: 3,494k
A/N: I was a little unhinged writing this, so it was written in a bit of a daze. Please let me know what ya'll think about this one. I can't find the ask where people expressed interest so don't be mad at me if I didn't tag you! I'm sorry! I'm also not married to the moodboard, so it might change. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!
Taglist: @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @browngirldominion @sageispunk @harmshake @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @blackerthings
You were bored. Just because you told your man to leave you alone, didn’t mean you actually wanted him to do it. Why couldn’t niggas ever listen? What’s so hard to understand? “Leave you alone” obviously meant to give you attention?
You were at a fancy event for Jatemme’s brother, Jamal, who was running for Alderman. Snooze fest. Jatemme promised that you weren’t going to be here long. That you’d only have to sit like a doll for an hour tops, before he took you shopping and out to eat.
One hour turned to three and you were still sitting at Jamal’s table, surrounded by Jatemme’s crew while Jamal and Jatemme did business. You scanned the room for your man but didn’t find him.
You did see Jamal who was hard to miss. He was the type to walk into the room like he owned it and as if everyone owed him money for it. Jatemme was quieter, but deadlier. He instantly drew you in with his sleepy eyes, soft umber skin, and intense presence. His darkness called to something within you and never let go.
The relationship wasn’t without its up and downs. You liked to keep him on his toes. Get him to have a little fun. He always followed in Jamal’s shadow when it was Jatemme that did most of the work. Most of the planning. Most of the ideas.
You sighed, loudly once more, and turned briefly to your table to sip your nasty ass champagne. Fucking politicians. Pretending like they weren’t all into something dirty, getting over on the little guy. Namely Black folk.
Jatemme’s crew gave you funny looks. They knew better than to touch you or stare too hard. But you often caught them looking at your body and your too short dresses. They also hated your attitude. Jatemme made you swear to stop messing with them. It was hard to find good help when you were constantly flirting with them and he was constantly killing them over it.
Maybe that was Jatemme’s problem. Now that Jamal was running for Alderman, there was a public scrutiny on the family business. Jatemme doesn’t have free rein to do as he pleased now. Go wherever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted.
You sighed once more and checked your phone. You texted your best friends in your group chat, that you were bored and in desperate need of fun. Misty immediately texted you back and told you to meet them at a club not too far from there. That was exactly what you needed.
You looked over at the crew of four burly men and stood up. One of the them, Martin, stood up as well prepared to follow you. “No need, Marty, I’m just going to the little girl’s room,” you said and smiled sweetly.
Martin gave you a blank stare. He adjusted the suit jacket over his thick arms and put his hands in his pockets. “You know the rules,” he said.
You kept your sweet smile, knowing that your lips were glossed just so to catch the light overhead. That your champagne colored dress hugged your figure just right. The night was young and you were wasting it by being arm candy.
“You gonna follow me into the bathroom and hold my purse too? I don’t think Jay would like that,” you sang.
Martin looked towards the other men who looked everywhere but at him. They did not want that particular smoke. Decisions, decisions. Martin cleared his throat. “Come right back,” he said.
You smiled. “Of course. You all act like I’m not an angel,” you said. The men wisely didn’t comment. You turned and sashayed out of the room, already done with the entire night. You didn’t see your man and you didn’t care at the moment.
You waited until you left the hotel ballroom before pulling out your phone. You ordered an Uber on your way out to the front. People from the reception had spilled out into the hallway, discussing things that they didn’t want others overhearing, even by accident.
You passed by stick figure women in dark red, blue, or black dresses, pointy shoes, and stiff upper lips. You passed by men in their penguin suits, pretending to give a shit. The total wealth combined in the room could help everyone in the Ward but they held onto it like gremlins.
It made you sick.
You went outside, shivering slightly from the bite of cold. When your Uber arrived, you didn’t even look back towards the hotel. It was almost criminal how easy it was to slip your chains. Further proof that this shit was getting stale and you might be headed towards another break from Jatemme. Let him sit and stew over what he would miss before he came crawling back with gifts, kisses, and that big dick of his.
You grinned as you texted Misty that you were on your way. She texted back with plenty of emojis, some of them skulls, because she already knew that Jatemme was going to blow his lid. Let him.
It didn’t take long to reach the rougher areas of Chicago. Almost literally down the street from the glitterati, the houses weren’t as nice. The grass not so green. Fences and bars on the windows. Corner boys selling dope in baggy jeans and oversized T-shirts.
The club was set back from the street to allow for a little more parking. You got out and Misty met you outside. She hugged you with many squeals and jumping up and down. “Slipped the doom patrol?” She asked.
Misty was gorgeous, with deep, dark skin and microbraids twisted into two buns atop her head. She was a thick, curvy girl who was always quick with a laugh. She immediately ushered you inside. You turned off your phone. Make Jay sweat a little bit.
You spent the entire night dancing with your girls and getting drunk on your favorite drink. All of the songs were hitting, back to back. A mix of 2000s and 2010s music. The good shit that demanded you dance right this instant.
Plenty of dusty ass niggas tried to pull you into a dance and you pushed them all away. It cost to put hands on you. It cost to be in your presence. Ain’t nobody getting shit for free.
By the time the club called for last drinks, you were tapped out. You were not wearing the proper shoes for dancing in the club. You were shocked that you lasted as long as you did. And yeah, you missed your man. You were a little drink, a lot horny, and you just wanted to be fucked at this point and put to sleep.
You walked out, hanging onto your friends. One of them, Kiki, was the lightweight. She was dragged between two friends while she muttered something. You giggled and walked with them to their car.
Rounding the corner, there were a group of guys passing a joint between them. They wolf-whistled as you passed by. One of them sure was fine. Tall, bald, with a thick luscious beard that covered the lower half of his face. You wondered what he’d look like with your juices dripping from it.
You didn’t condone cheating. But if you were on a break…
You smiled at him as you passed, tossing your hair over your shoulders. “Gahh damn, lil mama, where you headed?” He asked.
You giggled and kept walking with your girls. It was nice to be wanted. You turned your phone on while your friends tried to get Kiki into the car and not entertaining the men by the building.
As it turned on, messages flew in with loud dings and flashes across your screen. You had…quite a lot of missed calls from Jatemme. Angry texts too. You appreciated that he never called you out of your name when he was angry, but he had plenty of other colorful ways to show his displeasure. Like calling you by your real name. Ew.
He was good and pissed that you left. That your phone was off. He promised hell, fire, and damnation when he finally caught up to you. You pictured him driving around fuming. His sleepy eyes narrowed even further. The cute way his nostrils would flare and the vein that pulsed in his neck.
You were getting wet just thinking about it. The sex would be immaculate tonight. You sighed dreamily as you went through his unhinged text messages.
“Bitch! Help? Hello?” Misty called out. You giggled and moved towards the car, pushing at Kiki’s big ass head to get into the car. Misty slammed the door in her face and sighed as if she’d been wrestling a bear.
She faced you with a small grin before her eyes darted behind you. The sexy bald headed man approached you, licking his lips and looking you up and down. He held out his hand when he was near enough.
“I had to come introduce myself,” he said.
“I appreciate that. But I’m too high-maintenance for you, boo,” you said. You flirted with the idea of being responsible for another man’s death, but he was too cute to sacrifice for your own dastardly enjoyment. There were so few, gorgeous Black men these days. The 90s had all the fine men. They were long gone now. God just wasn’t building them like that no more.
“I like a little high-maintenance,” he said.
You laughed. Said no man ever. “I’m the type to empty accounts,” you said and smiled.
“I got several. Pick one,” he said. He looked you in the eye as he said it and made you reevaluate him as a whole. He was dressed nice in dark plaid slacks, black polo, with a big watch on his wrist. Nothing too flashy, but enough that it convinced you he wasn’t another broke nigga.
You were considering his offer, wondering how you could prove that he was for real and not just trying to get into your panties. Squealing tires tore your gaze away from the man as you saw Jatemme’s truck flip a bitch into oncoming traffic and speed into the parking lot.
“Shit. You better run before my man catch you talking to me,” you said, though he probably already saw you.
“I ain’t scared,” the man said. Bless his little heart.
“Nigga, I’m trynna protect you. Leave, now,” you said, shooing him away from you and your girls. Maybe you could convince Jatemme that the man was trying to flirt with Misty. You turned behind you, but Misty held her hands up.
“I ain’t trynna die for your Black ass,” she said.
“Bitch!” You screamed, but you couldn’t stay serious for long. You grinned and shook your head. Before the truck had a chance to come to a full stop, Jatemme and crew hopped out, grabbing guns from their waistbands.
“They got guns!” Someone called out. The parking lot emptied with a speed only achieved in the hood. Too many people who knew the consequences of a stray bullet and weren’t trying to lose their lives over it. Some brave souls remained, peeking behind cars and around the building into the additional parking in the alleyway.
You couldn’t help it. Your thighs tingled. Your heart skipped a beat seeing Jatemme climb out of the driver’s seat with that slow, menacing gait of his. His eyes were glued on you as he walked towards you.
The cutie remained, like he would really stand in front of a bullet for you. You couldn’t give him any more warnings. You couldn’t save him from his own stupidity. Jatemme stopped a few feet in front of you.
His face was deceptively calm. He crossed his arms in front of him, Glock on display. His crew formed a formidable wall behind him. Martin sported a darkening bruise on his cheek and you only felt slightly bad for getting him into trouble. At least he was still alive. That was something.
You bit your lip and giggled nervously. “Hi, baby,” you said.
“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked. His voice. God, you could listen to that voice recite the dictionary and you’d listen to every word.
You shifted your footing. “Nope. Never seen this man before,” you said.
“Aye, if you’re in trouble…” The man said. Martin, being the closest, lifted his gun into the man’s face. The gun was pressed to his temple and the man audibly gulped.
“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked once more.
You looked him in the eye. “No.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Jatemme said to the man. The man looked at you, but you knew better than to acknowledge his presence. You heard his friends calling for him, telling him not to be a hero, not to lose his life over some bitch.
The man backed away, keeping his eye on Martin and the shiny gun in his face. Jatemme jerked his head and you sighed, following behind him. If he was going to take you away, he was beyond angry. Maybe you actually worried him this time. That wasn’t your intention. You wanted to scare him a little, not worry him.
You waved goodbye to your friends. They shot you alarmed glances, but you told them that Jatemme never raised a hand to you. Never. He liked getting his revenge in other ways.
He opened the door for you and you climbed into the front seat. He got into the driver’s seat, peeling away from the club so fast, he probably sprayed everyone with rocks and gravel. He didn’t speak. He drove through the quiet streets, heading back towards the hotel you escaped from.
“Baby–”
Jatemme held up a hand like he didn’t want to hear it. You bit your lip. You really stepped in it now. Was it bad that you were turned on? Punishment shouldn’t be this exciting and yet, your mind raced through what he had planned. How he was going to show that he cared for you.
He pulled to the front of the hotel and tossed the valet his keys. The gun was tucked away into his jeans. Fancy events didn’t mean he had to be the one who dressed up. He did have a clean, sky blue shirt buttoned to the very top. He opened the door and let you out.
He didn’t speak while he pushed you inside, the event well and truly over by now. He didn’t speak as you rode the elevator in crushing silence and velvet flooring muffling your heels. He didn’t speak as he got out onto the twelfth floor, leading you to a suite you didn’t know he got for the night.
Once inside, you gasped. There was a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket. Low lighting made the room glow like looking through a piece of glass at twilight. “You did all this for me?” You asked.
“If you would have behaved yourself,” he said.
The suite was big enough to have a full living room with couches and armchairs, shiny mahogany coffee table, and a wide screen TV. Behind a set of double doors, there was a bed already turned down, waiting for you to climb in.
You pouted. Your man was so sweet sometimes, it made your heart ache. He didn’t always show this softer side. The side that liked snuggling up to trashy movies late at night, snacking in bed, and enjoying each other’s company.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. Enough to get his point across. You truly had worried him.
You turned to him with an apology on your lips but he was already invading your space. He grabbed your face and pulled you into a rough kiss, slanting his lips across yours as if he meant to stake a claim. Prove a point. You belonged to him. There was no way of getting out of it. No way of running.
You gripped onto him tightly. “I hate when you worry me like that,” he said.
“You promised,” you whined.
His lips returned to kissing you, looking for the zipper on your side to unzip you from the dress. When he couldn’t find it, he began to rip it with his bare hands. “Hey!”
“I’ll buy you more,” he said. His lips returned to kissing you. More like possessing you. He kissed you like he wanted to meld your bodies together to keep you by his side. This was what you needed. What you had been craving all night.
Your bra and panties went next, baring you completely to him. He wasn’t in it to admire your body right now though. You knew him. He had been worrying about you all night and needed to see you. Feel you. Make sure that you really were in front of him and not a figment of his imagination.
He turned you around and slapped your ass. You screamed out, jumping away from the sharp sting. He pushed you towards the deep gray couch and bent you over the back of it. It dug into your tummy but you were too turned on to notice the pain.
He unzipped his zipper and freed himself with a low groan, spreading your ass cheeks and rubbing his dick through your wet folds. Your hands feebly gripped onto the couch cushings, fingers digging into the linen.
Once his tip was good and wet, he stuffed you and you cried out from the burn of his girthy dick pushing into you. Your eyes crossed. He felt too good to contain to a single moan. You yelled out without abandon, not caring who heard you. If the neighbors complained, Jatemme would handle that too.
His strokes were bruising, punishing, near cruel as he slammed into you over and over. “You and this fucking attitude gon’ kill me,” he groaned. His fingers grabbed hold of your hips and slammed you back onto his dick. Like his strokes weren’t enough. Like you weren’t moving fast enough for him.
“Oh baby, oh fuck–I’m sorry!” You cried out.
“No, you not,” he said. No, you were not. You’d do everything all over again if he meant that his attention was back on you. That his hands were back on you. That his dick was inside you, spearing you, driving you to new pleasures each and every time.
Your feet were scrambling for purchase. He didn’t care. He fucked you like you were no more than a toy to stick his dick in. One hand reached behind you to push against his chest. His shirt slipped between you so he lifted it and brought his flesh flush with yours. Then, he grabbed your outstretched hand and pulled it behind you, resting on your back while he used the new position as a new anchor. His strokes grew deeper, more desperate.
“I catch you talking to another nigga and I’ma kill him,” Jatemme whispered harshly.
“Yes, baby,” you moaned. You’d seen him kill niggas for far less. For daring to turn their neck in your direction. He once told you that if he could blind the male population of Chicago, he would.
“Oh fuck!” You screamed out, crying through your punishing orgasm.
Jatemme grunted in satisfaction. “That’s your first one for the night. I hope you’re keeping count,” he said.
“Baby, wait…” You grunted between his deep thrusts.
“Like you made me wait tonight?” He asked. He yanked on your hair, forcing you to look back at him. You stared into his eyes while he filled you up with his cum. He came with a low, grumbling moan that shook your inner walls.
Your mouth dropped open as his dick pulsed and twitched. Your legs were jelly, kept standing by pure force by him. His will to keep you spread open for him ensured that you were a vessel for his dick. His own personal fucktoy.
He made you cum two more times while your neck was craned, looking back into his soulful eyes. You ran out of curse words to shout to the heavens. Your eyes ached from the way they rolled. Your essence mixed with his spend dripped down your legs in a slow river that tickled your legs.
He finally slipped out, giving you a bit of a break. You huffed, legs shaking, arms weak. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, spreading your legs open once more. He fisted his dick, jerking the length of it while he looked at your destroyed pussy leaking with his cum.
“Hope you didn’t plan on sleeping tonight,” he said with a small grin.
You panted with a nervous giggle. He proved throughout the rest of the night just how much he missed you and made you promise not to do it again. Well, at least not anytime soon.
The end.
There will be more! The Secret Jatemme Files
#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Jatemme Files#Jatemme x Black!reader#Jatemme x Black reader#x Black reader#Jatemme x Fem!reader#Jatemme x Fem reader#x Fem reader#Jatemme x plus size reader#Jatemme fanfic#Jatemme fan fic#Jatemme fanfiction#Jatemme fan fiction#Widows fanfic#Widows fan fic#Widows fanfiction#Widows fan fiction#Daniel Kaluuya fanfic#Daniel Kaluuya fan fiction#Daniel Kaluuya fan fic#Daniel Kaluuya fanfiction#Daniel Kaluuya
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Refuge | chapter five.
chapter five: home at last
wordcount: 2.2k
summary: aftermath of reader confronting joel. so you know how i’ve been telling y’all refuge gets less sad? it might get worse before it gets better with this one, folks. thanks for reading. love you all.
warnings: estrangement, anxiety, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of child death, heavy trauma and coping. please please heed the warnings. you are responsible for the media you consume.
series masterlist | previous chapter | general masterlist
Sweat slid down your back, palms clammy as you stood at the door. Breathe bated, hands shaking, doubt searing itself into your mind.
What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he didn’t open the door at all? What if he thought you had no right to be here? What if he doesn’t want you any-
Enough.
Why are you here?
Nails sinking into your palms, you let the apprehension hit you in waves. The taunts and the mocking questions your mind conjures, all the what ifs of a thousand things that never actually go wrong. You’ve learned to let it happen now, to let them rake their biting claws down the walls of your psyche over and over and over until they tire and fade into the background again.
Leave. Just turn and leave. Get off his patio, walk home.
Fear was a lovely, tempting thing. The end of the world gave you enough time to learn how to resist it, though. So you just rolled your shoulders, planted your feet and raised your fist to knock again.
You flinched when the door swung open and your knuckles fell through empty air. Snatching your hand back, you blinked against the warmth on your cheeks before peering up the scowling owner of said door who now stood against the doorframe, knuckles white against mahogany.
He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
You felt like you were watching one.
His beard was too long, jaw twitching as he took in your form through bloodshot eyes, pupils blown. A moment passed, and then two; time stretching and molding itself into the gaping pause. A throat cleared; and you couldn’t tell if it was his or if it was yours because your jaw was still slack, words still out of your grasp; the scowl on his face making your skin crawl and your hair stand on end because since when did Joel do that -oh yeah, maybe since his daughter died in his arms and he lost his wife thinking she was dead and his brother left him and then his girlfriend died saving him and this other girl he took in who doesn’t talk to him anymore and god, Sarah always said Joel had a shit poker face because his eyes always gave him away and you forgot how they always fucking felt like home and looked like it too but they were just so cold now and- and then he was moving away, opening the door wider.
A moth is a foolish, dispensable thing. One with no instinct; no self-preservation. And yet- you couldn’t shake the idea that you’d learn to love broken, charred wings too, just to revel in the beauty of the flame that burned them.
You are a foolish, dispensable thing, too.
You bit your tongue and followed him into the house.
The reek of cheap alcohol made your eyes water, blurring your vision enough for you to miss the comedically-placed empty bottle a hair’s breadth from your foot; jumping at the arm flung out to ensure you didn’t fall face-first into the pile of-were those dirty?- clothes strewn on the floor.
Dark eyes bore into yours, and your mouth went dry. He was still so goddamn big; a towering, hulking figure that looked everything like the man you’d married and did nothing alike.
Joel was neat. Joel never had things on the floor.
“What do you want?” An impatient question half-spat in your direction, disdain dripping from his voice.
Joel was gone. This was not Joel.
The flame had you now. And oh, how you loved to burn.
You stared at him.
His hand reached for you again, fingers unfurling to grip your shoulder-
and suddenly he was every man holding you down and ripping your clothes off and biting and cutting and hurting you-
and you were gasping and stepping back. Away from him.
His brows furrowed. Hand drew back, feet shuffling to the wall behind him. He was searching your face, but you weren’t there. Your eyes were glazed, breath hitching and it was his voice - the fear in his whispered y’alright, honey?; the apologetic tone of a young boy throwing a tantrum without realizing he’s pushed too far - that wrenched you back to him, back to your body.
Honey.
Joel was here. Joel was scared, too.
Another breath, and you found your voice again. “Are you alright, Joel?”
And he was sinking then - deflating, knees buckling while his back slid down the wall, head tilting to lean against it. The sheen of sweat glimmered in the soft light, hands clasped and his knees spread wide; the outline of a man who’d been carrying far too much for far too long and hadn’t found a place to put it down yet. And then he was chuckling, a low rasping sound echoing in the silence of time stood still.
When did Joel’s laugh start sounding hollow? When did yours?
“Ain’t that a question? Y’telling me you showed up here in the middle a’ the night to ask if I’m alright?” He sounded so different now. He sounded furious and exhausted, terrified and fearless, acrid and amused; the nihilism of a broken man grinning at fate when he’s gambled nothing but lost everything anyways.
Your silence incensed him; cut and stung and pricked at his skin until it reached its hands into the dark tangles of his mind and wrenched out all the words he never knew how to say to anyone else.
“No, ‘m not fuckin’ alright, baby.” A beat, and he continued. “I-I don’t know where to go anymore. The fuck am I supposed to do? Whole point a’ gettin’ to safety was so Sarah could-“ and then he’s choking under the weight of his own words, looking away.
You inched closer to his side of the room, needing to be closer to him, to feel him and hold him and take all the pain he’s cradling and hold it in your hands, just for a while. Enough for him to take a breath. Your hands nearly brushed, and you shrunk away like he’d struck you. You ignored the look he gave you.
It’s Joel. Joel is safe. Joel would never hurt you.
You settled against the wall just within the edges of his grasp. The distance between you two opened its maw and swallowed you whole. Your voice came out as a tentative whisper, one he had to tilt his head to catch.
“Ellie got here, though. To safety.” He shifted, raised a brow.
“Y’know Ellie? ‘Part from the…introduction?” Your nod had his lips curling just barely at the edges - the ghost of a smile. An ache formed in your chest at the sight.
“Came up to me. Comes to my shop sometimes, too. Good kid.” He nodded, and settled again, silent. And then his voice was slicing through the roaring quiet, through the thoughts in your head telling you to just talk, just tell him you need to tell him you have to tell hi-
“Ellie won’t talk to me anymore. Maria don’t like me cause Tommy’s told her ‘bout some shit I did. Tommy can’t look me in the eye these days ‘imself. You-“ and he was cutting himself off with a glance in your direction, a strange anticipation souring in your stomach.
He’ll finally admit how little he cares about you. He’ll finally set himself free.
You still loved the flame. You’d love it again in a heartbeat.
Joel rubbed his face, holding his head in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was soft; mourning.
“You’re scared of me, too.”
You stopped breathing. Shook your head, hard.
Couldn’t he see? Didn’t he know?
Before you could stop it, your hand was fisting his shirt and your eyes were darting between his, searching his face wildly; breath coming in soft pants with the fucking desperation to make him understand.
“No. ‘M never scared of you, Joel - can’t be. I-I’m scared of…of- everything now. Everyone. N-not you.”
His fingers came around your wrist, fist still bunching cotton between your fingers. Your mind jolted, but you willed your body not to.
Joel would never hurt me.
And then he pressed his forehead to yours and you forgot why you’d ever considered running, anyways.
Joel was here. Joel was safe.
“I can’t even remember why I was late to pick you up.” Voice hoarse, breath fanning across your mouth and it took a second for his words to sink in, but when they did you wanted to shake him and slap him and yell at him until you lost your voice.
“You can’t-you can’t do that. It wasn’t your-“
“It was, though. It was. We could have been together. We could’ve had Sarah. I could’ve had you.”
And there it was. The source of the rot; the eye of this storm that he’d lost himself in. And again, you followed him like a foolish moth to the most heavenly flame.
“No.” The only word to come out of your mouth without a stutter; without a shadow of doubt or consideration or contemplation because it was all you knew to be true. Fingers trembling, you brought them up to bury them at the nape of his neck - a gesture that felt so familiar and so alien at the same time that you weren’t quite sure if you could call it deja vu or not; more like a memory so far away it felt like a dream. For a second you’re lost, back in a house that was once yours with a husband that was once yours and he’s looking at you like he was now. Like he was dying and you were the air in his lungs. Reverent. Another breath, and his eyes were closed, forehead pressing into yours like he needed to keep touching you.
Joel was here. Joel was scared, too.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Shaking his head, he opened his mouth to rebut - but you refused to let him argue, tightening your fingers in his hair. “Sarah…” Tongue refusing to form the words you knew you had to say, you didn’t realize you’d closed your eyes against the onslaught of tears until Joel was leaning in to kiss a stray drop away. Eyes snapping open, you watched him scanning your face patiently, waiting for you to find your words.
You’d forgotten how easy it was to talk to him. You didn’t think you could go without it again.
“Sarah is gone. Our baby is gone, and she didn’t deserve a fucking fraction of what she got.” A shuddered breath, his thumb brushing against your cheek; the warmth seeping into you and steadying your voice, finding your words. “But she knew, Joel, she knew that either one of us would have ripped our own fucking hearts out of our chests if it meant she could have lived. Sh-she died…” you gasped for breath, tasting salt on your tongue, “…knowing she was loved. She died in your arms, Joel. The safest place in the world. For that- for her to have that, to have you in her last breaths - I’d go through the past twelve years again for the rest of my fucking life.”
Shivering, he brought his hands up to cradle your face, tears mixing with yours and his skin melting into yours until neither of you knew where you ended and he began.
“You wouldn’t be sayin’ that if you knew the things I’ve done since then, sweetheart.” You gave him a wry smile - one that means the complete opposite of what it is; a confession and an acceptance.
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the things I’ve been through since then, sweetheart.” A flash of confusion on his face, and you were pulling back and away from him, tugging the neckline of your shirt for him to see the scar- the one given to you along with a dozen others cuts and bruises and scratches that hadn’t left you for a while no matter how hard you scrubbed. The indent of teeth sinking into flesh; a bitemark as retaliation of the fight you put up, the effort you made to get away from them. It hadn’t faded. Their touch hadn’t, either.
Joel’s eyes didn’t leave the spot even when you fixed your shirt, not when you leaned back into him and cradled his face. His body locked up, spine rigid and eyes brimming with fury and lips pursing and brows furrowing and-
until he sawtooth panic on your face, the worry and apology and doubt written into the creases of your frown as if you were the one he’d ever blame. Heart thumping against his ribs, he surged forward to hold your head against his chest, pressing his lips to your forehead, peppering kisses to your hairline. You couldn’t stop the sobs wracking through your body, couldn’t stop your nails from carving crescents into his skin with need while reaching for him, chasing his touch as if it were a balm to the flaring wounds ripping open inside you once again, raw and angry now that they were brought to light again.
The two of you melted into a tangle of tears and gasps and scrambling forms, of reverent, peaceful touches and whispers.
You'd both spent years branding your grief on yourselves over and over to keep the other alive, fragmented memories unspooling a thread that would always lead you home.
His smile still managed to knock the air from your lungs.
hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @spookyxsam, @obscurexsorrows, @planet-marz1, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis, @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @chiogarza, @jenispunk, @lunxramour, @anavatazes, @joeldjarin, @stunkbiggu, @joels-darlin, @casa-boiardi, @jasminedragoon, @daddy-din, @moonlightdivine, @stickthegremlin, @jamesmasbone, @avampiregf, @wannab-urs, @for-a-longlongtime, @crowbird, @javierpena-inatacvest. @hiroikegawa, @partyofone3413, @anoverwhelmingdin
#the last of us#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x you#the last of us fanfiction#tlou hbo#the last of us x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#the last of us fic#joel miller the last of us#joel the last of us#sad joel#dark joel miller#joel miller#joel miller angst#joel miller au#joel miller comfort#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fluff#joel miller hurt/comfort#joel miller imagine#joel miller self insert#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x wife!reader#joel x reader#joel tlou#joel and ellie#tlou series#the last of us part 1
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absolution
Pairing: Pastor!Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x fem!reader
Word Count: 5.3k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! A looot of references to religion (it all takes place in a church, so), smut smut smut (p-in-v) I'm including dubcon bc consent is weird with power dynamics, age gaps (10 yr) (everyone is of legal age though!!), some body horror stuff, power imbalance, I think that's all but if you come across something that I missed please reach out so I can tag accordingly!!! Love u bye!!!
A/N: This was really cathartic to write lmao I have a sprinkling of Religious Trauma and this helped me work through some of those feelings in my own weird horny way. It is porn, please don't start expecting me to be some kinda respectable writer with plotlines or whatever. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS. Okay enjoy!!!!
The guilt of it is eating you alive.
The pressure between your legs- the raw, empty ache that plagues you day in and day out. Sitting on your pew, you are once again swept away by long, glossy hair and inked knuckles, turning sacred pages of a holy book that can do nothing to hold your attention at this moment.
What an impression of Christ he makes, you think to yourself, sounding hypnotized even in your internal monologue.
He arrived when you were 19, to your small town, to your even smaller church. The rest of the folks in town think your congregation is too… fanatical. You can’t imagine a world in which someone could be over-zealous for the word of God, and even so, Pastor Karlsson had done a lot to level the congregation out.
He was a divorcee, not by his choice, he has said. He was only 29 when he first rolled into town, funny accent and even funnier sounding name causing immediate distrust in your tight-knit community.
But God, did he have a testimony. Sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll, the tattoos adorning his body told you the story better than those gaudy stained glass windows in the snobby Catholic churches ever could. A lecherous lifestyle with a woman who didn’t love him, not really - not the way you do. He had humbled himself to you all, and you gladly let him in. He was made a pillar in your community - he became a leader to the congregation.
Which is why you always suppressed your feelings, putting them in a locked sarcophagus and hurling it to the far recesses of your mind. You will not be the thing that tries to come between him and the Lord.
You look up at him as he speaks, standing at the pulpit and wielding the word of God like the Archangel Michael who so valiantly struck down Satan. He who is made in God’s image; Had it not been for your utter devotion to the Lord, you would have wondered if he could sin at all.
But you knew better. Everyone carried their own sins. You had heard stories of husbands and wives who idolized each other so much that they left the church altogether. Your heart broke at the thought of leaving God’s light to worship something as sinful as human flesh, couldn’t imagine risking an eternity of paradise for what would one day be dust.
Not that you’d know, of course. You’d never felt the touch of a man outside of when Pastor Karlsson baptized you the day before your 21st birthday. It had been fuel for weeks, his gentle hand on your back, guiding you underneath the water of the river that ran out behind the church. You had stuffed yourself full of your own fingers that night, stuffed your mouth full of bed linens so that no one would hear how you came undone at the mere thought of him.
Perhaps you are the lecherous one, after all. Though you can’t help but think that God has given you Pastor Karlsson on purpose, as a test of your faith. A test that you believed you were passing, for the most part. You haven’t missed a Sunday sermon since you caught the flu in 2021, and even so, you watched the livestreams on Facebook. You keep your nose in your Bible, and ignore the clench in your gut when he tells you good morning.
This morning is different.
This morning is worse.
You just come off of your period- disgusting and uncomfortable as it was, you are thankful it was over and you can enjoy the rest of your June in peace. But it lingers under your skin, an itch that can’t be scratched. Your emotions are raw, and you burst into tears twice this week, unprompted. Worst of all is the ache.
You didn’t know you could feel so empty. It claws at your insides like a caged beast, mockingly calling in the voice of Moloch himself, “Fill me up, fill me up.”
You threw yourself headfirst into your studies; you reviewed Ecclesiastes as a way to ground yourself, to remind yourself that this was a temporary feeling, and would pale in comparison to the absolution of Heaven.
Still, sitting in your pew, you felt the hunger gnashing at you, gnawing at your throat. It was overwhelming, all-consuming. You stutter through your hymnal, barely reading half the words. Your mother keeps giving you concerned looks, your father aloof as ever. Halfway through the sermon, she hisses in your ear, “What is the matter with you?”
You blink up at her, wide-eyed, and stammer out a “I - I don’t know. I feel… weird.”
She purses her lips, but says nothing, turning back to Pastor Karlsson in the pulpit.
You pass the time in silence, feeling itchy and hot, until the sermon concludes, and everyone makes a mass exodus to the dirt lot where their cars are parked.
“Hold on.” Your mother stops you as you begin exiting your pew.
She walks over and, to your utter horror, greets Pastor Karlsson, pulling him aside and speaking to him in hushed tones. He nods once, glancing at you, then nods again as she steps away. She looks grateful, patting his shoulder in that way that mothers do.
He looks at you then, and his full attention is enough to make you combust. Suddenly your dress is too tight on your chest, your breasts straining with every breath against the linen that encases you. Your bones itch, but your hands stay resolutely tucked into your sides, your Bible held against your chest.
You’re so busy focusing on breathing that you don’t realize he’s walking towards you until he’s right in front of you, smiling warmly while greeting you by name. Your mother is by his side, looking at you in such a way that tells you she had something to do with this interaction.
“Darling, Pastor Karlsson here wants a word with you. He even said he’d give you a ride back to the house! I’ll set aside a plate for you at home, you two take your time here.” She was smiling in a way that made all of her teeth visible, like a snarling animal. A lead brick settles in your stomach at the expression as you look up at Pastor Karlsson.
He was so tall, you think as you peer up at him. Dark eyes meet yours, making your gaze flicker away to something else- anything else to avoid the intensity you find there. Looking directly into his eyes was like looking into the maw of a starving beast- you weren’t brave enough to even consider it.
Your mother departs with a final “Wonderful sermon, Joakim, thank you!” Flashing one of her pageant smiles at him - one she’s never given your father - as she goes.
He nods politely, murmuring a quiet, “All the glory to God.” before turning back to you. He gives you a thoughtful look before he speaks again.
“Your mother is concerned about you.” His tone was not accusatory or pointed, just repeating facts.
You inhale shakily. “Yeah, I feel kind of weird today.” Admitting to such a thing is not a lie - you do feel weird today.
He nods, as if understanding. Then, “Would you like to speak in my office? I have to pick up a few things, then we can head out.”
The thought of being in an enclosed space with him made you almost pass out, but you persevere, giving a meek nod as you follow him out of the sanctuary.
It was a short walk from the sanctuary to his office, your church is small, even among small churches. You love its modesty; It is a far cry from the towering spires and flying buttresses you saw in your history books back in school, but it has a self-effacing quality that makes it approachable to people from all walks of life.
The walls are painted white, though slightly yellowed with age. Dark wood lines the floor, blue carpet cushioning your steps as you walk. There aren’t many windows - it was built for insulation, not sight-seeing, after all. Crosses hang sporadically throughout the hallways, some wooden, carved by members, others purchased at a discount at the craft stores a few towns over.
His office is a glorified coat closet, something the elders threw together haphazardly when God called him to serve. It fit a desk, a desktop computer that was older than dirt, and two chairs, one on either side of the desk. The carpet is green, the walls beige, and you have always thought it is an entirely unbecoming space for such a Godly man. It’s a good thing he was humble; God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble, you think, almost bitterly, as he sits down in the chair by the computer. You make a mental note to work on your own humility as you sit down in the chair opposite him.
“So, what’s got you feeling weird?” He asks with a small smile, putting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together. His hair falls over his shoulders with the movement, cascading down in a curtain of silk. You remind yourself to breathe.
Stammering, you try to explain yourself. “I’m- I’m not sure, Pastor Karlsson-”
“Joakim.” He interrupts you gently.
You blink at him, confusion evident in your face. He must find something about the expression amusing, because he’s smiling softly and continuing, “You can call me Joakim. We’re both grown-ups here.”
You swallow loudly, the sound all but ricochets in the stillness of the room. “R-right. I’m not really sure why I feel so weird. I just had a really hard time focusing today.” You suddenly realize what you’ve said, correcting yourself quickly. “Not that the sermon wasn’t good! Your sermons are always wonderful, Pastor Karls - Joakim.”
He’s smiling broadly now, clearly entertained by your flailing. “It’s okay, käresta, I understand what you mean." A pause, then he lowers his hands. "Is there something on your mind specifically? Something that’s preventing you from focusing?”
You go still, scared to breathe too fully, lest it give you away. Your eyes slide to the ground, teeth coming out to gnaw at your lip. You can feel your heart racing in your throat- the throbbing sensation makes you wonder if you’ll actually vomit from anxiety. You freeze further when Joakim places a hand on your arm, gently.
His voice is barely audible when he whispers, “Hey, it’s okay. We all have our sins, and sin is sin -”
“- Is sin.” You finish for him, sounding unconvinced. You take a deep breath, then redirect your gaze back to him. His eyes are soft with concern, mouth pulled into the faintest frown. Hating to imagine you’re the reason he’s so upset, you blurt out before you can even process your words.
“I’ve been having lustful thoughts about a man in the congregation.” Once the words have been said, you fight the urge to grab them clean out of the air and stuff them back into your mouth.
The hand on your arm tenses for half a second, then relaxes again. “Okay.” He begins calmly, pulling his hand back to the table. You resist the urge to whimper at the loss of contact. “I can see where your concern is coming from. Is this man married?”
There were only so many unmarried men in the congregation; it would be an easy elimination if you were truthful. But... You were already coming clean about one sin, no need to add on others, you reasoned. Shaking your head in a negative, you give a meek, “No, he’s not.”
Joakim nods thoughtfully, staying silent for a moment. You can all but see the gears turning in his mind, deducing who it could be. You wonder if he lists himself amongst the unmarried men- or if he is courting some woman, unbeknownst to you all. No, your mind fired at you venomously. He is not the sort of man to slink around in the shadows.
Finally, he spoke. “While lust is never something to give full rein to, it is understandable, biologically speaking.” Upon seeing your confusion, he offers another soft smile, continuing. “You’re at an age where your body wants you to have children. It is what God made you for, it’s only natural that someone as devoted as you are would respond strongly to His plan. You’re not doing anything wrong, käresta.”
Relief floods your body, making your shoulders sag at the loss of tension. You aren’t doing anything wrong, Joakim even told you so. But that makes you wonder- is there anything you should be doing? You’re about to ask when he speaks again.
“I’ve been wanting to speak with you privately for a while now.” He huffs a small laugh. “It seems the Lord thought today would be a good time, so it shall be.”
You straighten your shoulders, sitting up, wanting to make sure he knows he has your full attention. Looking at him fully, you’re not surprised why your body is so responsive to him. He’s so handsome, even with the shadow of dark stubble on his face. You wonder what keeps him up at night, which chapters he gets stuck on for days before clarity dawns on him. It’s no mystery why your body is putting thoughts of lust in your mind; he’s the sort of man who would make a wonderful father.
You cut off that train of thought, needing to focus on the present moment. He needs your full attention for whatever he’s going to say next.
“The Lord has been communicating with me for some months now, on the topic of finding a wife.” You both take deep breaths, though for different reasons, you imagine. “You’ve heard my testimony on my previous marriage, so I don’t need to emphasize how much I’ve prayed about this.”
Your heart breaks, shatters, combusts into nothing but ash at his words. The Lord wants him to find a wife, and it sounds like he has someone in mind. You swallow the lump of bile in your throat, trying to listen to his next words as your guts fight the natural inclination to stay in your body.
“I’ve spoken to God a lot, the last few months- even by pastor standards.” The playful smile he gives you feels like a knife twisting in your chest. “And if I’m understanding his message correctly, I believe God wants me to court you.”
You’re so busy wallowing that you don’t understand what he’s said at first. The words sink in slowly, like the drip of an IV into your veins. When you think you understand, you manage a, “What?”
He chuckles, not a degrading sound, rather like he understands your confusion. “I know, it seems sudden, but I’ve been speaking to the Lord about this for many months, and-”
“Oh my goodness.” You interrupt as realization hits you like a freight train. “No - I know. I know. Because God has been speaking to me, too.”
Joakim’s brow furrows at you, and it feels nice to not be the confused one for once.
You continue, looking up at him shyly. “The… lustful thoughts I’ve been having, they-” You pause, building up your courage. “They’re about you.”
He’s frozen, mouth slightly agape as he processes your confession. His head tilts to the side slightly, eyes darker than usual as he asks, “You’ve been having lustful thoughts about… me?”
You nod, cheeks tinged pink. “When you’re in the pulpit - I try to focus, I really do, but my mind wanders to… other things.”
You should be embarrassed, should be ashamed of admitting something so unbecoming. But the comfort of this being God’s plan washes away any ill regards you have about the situation; this is what He has always intended.
“Other things?” He echoes, eyes focused on you intensely. His voice is hushed, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. “Like what?”
Your blush deepens at his inquiry. “Well, it’s more of a feeling than an exact thought…”
He’s leaning forward now, all but hanging over his desk at your words. He looks hungry, you realize suddenly; Like he’d seen firsthand the famine in Canaan, pupils blown wide, mouth open, breathing slowly. “A feeling?” He prompts.
Nodding, you find yourself leaning forward too, almost desperate to close the gap between you both. You can feel the dust in the air, hear the quiet electric hum of his old desktop computer. Your breath is coming too loudly, it ricochets off the walls around you both. “It feels like an ache.” You explain, sounding hoarse. “It feels like an emptiness.”
He takes a shaky breath, pushing himself back from his desk in a controlled motion. Standing up, he makes his way around the desk to stand in front of you, one of his calloused hands guiding your chin up to look at him.
“Do you want me to help you - with the emptiness? The ache?” He questions, eyes boring into yours.
The thought of it makes your thighs clench together, and the feeling is so delicious that you almost vocalize it. Your mouth is dry, but you feel wetness gathering in your cotton panties already. You almost forget to respond, nodding and breathing out, “Yes, please.”
“Always so well-mannered.” He praises, making you feel warm. You would do just about anything for him to keep going.
The hand on your jaw guides you upward until you’re standing in front of him. You’re not touching, but you can feel the heat emanating from his body, feel the way the air vibrates between you. His eyes travel down to your lips, back up to your eyes, then down to your lips again.
“Have you ever kissed a boy, lillis?” He asks, eyes half-lidded and voice quiet.
You shake your head, a tiny movement. “No.” You pause, then decide to continue. “I wanted to save myself.”
His inhale is sharp, deep. “Such a good girl.” The words light a fire in your belly, and the familiar gnawing is back, worse than ever before. You shift on your feet, subconsciously searching for any kind of friction. He picks up on the movement.
“Do you feel empty, now? Are you desolate?” You can feel where his breath hits your face. If you tilted your head right, your lips would meet. The clothes you’re wearing feel itchy - too tight, too rough.
You can’t speak, so you nod “yes.” His eyes run down your figure, back up again to your lips.
“Show me where.” Is his only command. You can’t read his expression fully, features arranged into careful neutrality. The spark in his eyes seemed to hint at desperation, though.
Your face is probably the color of a sun-ripened tomato, but you do as he says, grabbing his free hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingers curl up through your skirt, cupping your mound. Your eyelids flutter shut at the contact, hands coming up to rest against his chest to steady yourself. Heartbeat racing, you don’t think there could be anything better than the feeling of what’s happening right now.
“Here? Is this where you feel empty?” His lips move against your cheek, breath fanning across your ear, making you shiver.
You blink several times, trying to clear your head. “Joakim, please.” Is all you can muster, fingers gripping at his shirt.
You can feel him sag against you as his lips crash into yours. You’re not completely sure of what to do, allowing him to guide your lips open, licking into your mouth. You hear yourself groaning into the kiss, crowding impossibly closer until your bodies are pressed against each other fully.
He breaks the embrace to place wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck. The feeling is euphoric, making your hips buck into his without conscious decision.
Hands run down your sides, coming up again underneath your dress skirt to grip at the backs of your thighs, yanking you forward with such force that you almost topple over. His left hand is at your back in an instant, holding you steady before unzipping the back of your dress in a swift motion.
The material pools around your front, hanging loosely until you pry it off, happy to be rid of the too-rough fabric at last. His lips are back on yours in an instant, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other kneads the flesh of your breast through your bra.
You outright moan at the feeling, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as your mouth opens to let the sound out. He works a knee between your legs, rubbing the meaty flesh of his thigh against your core in such a way that has you seeing spots in your vision. Fingers curling into claws where they grip onto his shoulders, you grind down onto his leg, an animalistic snarl escaping you as you do so.
You know this feeling; Though it’s a sin to give into lust, you’ve made yourself climax before, silently, long after everyone had laid down to rest at night. This is so much more, though - you feel as though someone has soaked you in gasoline and laid a lit match to your flesh. Nothing could have torn you from the carnal desire you felt, being entwined with Joakim like this. You want to take turns ripping each other apart, severing limbs and gluing them back together until you have both been remade in His image. You want to bite and gnaw and lick until you taste blood, to soothe the worried skin with soft whispers and softer hands. Dragged to Hell and back, nailed to a cross and left to rot, rising from the dead with such vigor that Lazarus would envy you - you wanted it all, so long as this moment didn’t end.
“Joakim - I, I -” You choke out, eyes focusing on his, foreheads pressed together.
“Good girl, give it to me, everything you’ve got.” He urged you, the hand on your neck coming down against your hip, ushering your pelvis against his thigh.
Burying your head in his chest, you climax with a wanton moan, body shuddering through the shockwaves of it. Your breathing is labored, vision blurry from clenching your eyes shut so tightly.
He’s gently prying you off his leg then, maneuvering your positions until you find yourself face-down on his desk. Using a knee, he nudges your knees apart until he fits comfortably between them. The new angle has you feeling vulnerable, visible, licentious.
You don’t have time to dwell on the feeling, because suddenly his fingers are playing with your folds through your ruined panties. Your knees almost buckle at the stimulation, so sensitive it almost hurts. Gripping the other side of the desk to hold yourself upright, you do your very best to stay still as he explores your body.
Two fingers hook into the side of your panties, moving them to the side. You know he can see everything like this, and while part of you is screaming at the debauchery of it, another, louder part of you hopes he likes what he sees. You’re fighting the urge to sneak a glance at him when the two fingers that moved your panties aside are thrust deep into your core.
You let out a howl that could rival a rabid dog, nails scraping against the wooden laminate of the desk as your hands clench into fists. He’s curling his fingers inside you slowly, and you can feel every millimeter of it. A string of drool escapes your open mouth, cascading down into a puddle on a stack of prayer requests from this morning’s sermon.
“That’s it, so good, just take it, lillis.” He murmurs, fingers still unfurling deep inside you.
You don’t know that you can do anything but take it. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, taking up twice as much space as you’re used to. You feel wonderfully full, the emptiness inside you finally satiated.
But then he’s pulling them out, and you almost sob at the loss of it. You could feel your hole clenching on nothing, throbbing with want; Whether you enjoy it or not, you aren’t even sure.
You hear a zipper, then the sound of something metallic hitting the carpet. When you turn your neck to see what’s happening, you’re met with the sight of Joakim’s full manhood on display.
You’ve never seen a man naked before. There were pictures, shown to you unwillingly by the cruel boys who called you a “Bible-thumper” in school, but this is entirely different.
Joakim is… prettier, you think is the right word. His tip is pink, almost red, and wet-looking in the glow of the fluorescent office lights. Veins bulge along the length, throbbing at you angrily as if to mock the throbbing happening within you. It’s big, you realize suddenly. You can’t begin to fathom how it’s going to fit inside you, when his fingers alone made you feel so full already.
A hand is placed at the back of your neck, holding you flat in place. The weight is reassuring, grounding in its pressure as you’re pressed fully against the desk, the cool laminate a welcome reprieve from the fever burning in your skin. You feel him press his tip against your folds, running it through the slickness there, before slowly pushing past your threshold.
“It hurts.” Is the first thing you whine, legs already trembling. It does hurt - in a sharp way, like stretching to reach your toes first thing in the morning.
You gasp as he leans over, thrusting further into you as he whispers in your ear. “Shh, I know. It’s the price we must pay for our sin.” His murmur relaxes you a bit, reassures you of what you’re doing. Joakim would not lead you astray; God had spoken to him, given him fortitude in the last months. This was His plan.
The stretch continues as he slowly slides further into you, until your bodies are joined completely. You’re panting, open-mouthed as he fills you entirely. Your toes are barely brushing against the ground from how far he’s pushed you into the desk, corners digging into your hips sharply.
A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, unraveling the muscles that have been pulled taut with anticipation. Your breathing slows, body easing around the intrusion until only the sensation of fullness remains.
Joakim pulls back then, a slow movement that has you inhaling harshly as he drags along your inner walls. Your mouth goes to ask him what he’s doing, when he slams back into you, cutting off your train of thought in favor of gargling on your breath.
“Oh my God,” You keen, eyes so wide they might bulge out of your head altogether.
A jarring slap lands against your backside, stinging skin left in its wake. “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Joakim rasps, sounding as out of breath as you do.
He pulls back again, only to crash back into you a half-second later. The force of it jolts you, making you wail as your hands reach out for something, anything to hold onto. Documents and envelopes fly onto the floor in your frenzy, looking as haphazard as you feel.
He continues at an unrelenting pace, hand still firmly gripping the base of your neck from behind. You know you’re being loud; A distant part of you even registers that, given the circumstances, you should probably be much, much quieter. You can’t bring yourself to care, though, an endless chant of Joakim’s name falling from your lips as you do what you can to grind back into him.
The hand leaves your neck, coming down to grab onto your hip while his other hand mirrors the action. Your pelvis is lifted off the desk, thrusts never even pausing as the new angle drives him deeper into you. Tears spring in your eyes from the overstimulation, having climaxed only a few short minutes ago.
This is absolution, You think. Being tangled together, conjoined like this - There is no fear of sin, no guilt at succumbing to the lust-filled desires of the flesh. As Joakim plunges himself into you, over and over, you find yourself almost dizzy with relief at the weight lifted off your shoulders, the panic of condemnation a distant memory.
His arm wraps around the front of your hips, holding you in place, as his free hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head towards him.
“Say the Lord’s prayer.” He groans in your ear, breath hot and sticky. “Beg for His forgiveness. ‘Our Father-’”
“‘-Who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.” You whimper, the words slipping off your tongue like muscle memory as your body is rocked back and forth by his thrusts. “‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth-” Your voice is cut off by your own gasp as he reaches something in you that you’ve never felt before. Knees shaking, you dig your fingers deeper into the mess of papers surrounding you to try and stabilize yourself.
“Keep going. ‘On Earth, as it is in Heaven.’” He urges, grip tightening on you.
“‘Give us today our daily bread,’” You continue, moaning pitifully as he drives into that same spot again. “‘And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.’”
Tears stream freely down your cheeks now, a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation driving you mad. Joakim is mouthing at the junction of your neck and shoulder, tongue brushing over a spot that makes you shiver into him. A fire is building in your belly, lapping at the bottom of your throat as you move closer and closer to climax.
“‘L-lead us not into temp- temptation,’” You stutter, mind hazy with want. “‘But d-deliver us from evil.’”
Joakim’s voice is back in your ear. “‘For thine is the Kingdom,” A harsh thrust, “‘The Power,” Another thrust, “And the Glory forever.’”
The fire burns so hot that it rips the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Your eyes struggle to stay open, fluttering closed each time he rams into you. A particularly harsh pull of your hair reminds you that he is waiting for your response.
“Amen.” You whisper, vision going white as you climax, body twitching forcefully in his arms. His hips stutter once before he buries himself inside you, spilling his seed into you as he does.
Whether you lay there for seconds or days, you don’t know. Eventually, Joakim pulls out, a string of his release coming with him, rolling down the inside of your thighs. You whimper at the loss, still too sensitive to move.
“C’mon, käresta, we need to get you dressed. Your mother will wonder where you are.” His voice is gentle behind you, hand rubbing against your lower back to rouse you.
Your joints pop in protest as you try to push yourself up off the desk. The room is a mess of papers and scattered writing utensils, your dress nothing more than a rumpled pile of cloth on the ground.
You slip it over your head gingerly, every muscle in your body somehow sore. Joakim zips up the garment for you, running his hands over your clothed back, as if to smooth the wrinkles.
Turning to face him, you’re met with a soft pair of lips to your forehead, dark hair brushing against your cheeks. The kiss makes you feel brave as you ask, “Joakim?”
His eyes are warm as he gazes down at you, his fingers coming up to comb through your tangled hair. “Hmm?” Is his response as he works out a particularly knotted strand.
You flutter your eyelashes, a move that feels foreign, but somehow right. Looking up at him demurely, you ask, “Will you be leading tonight’s Bible study?”
#jolly karlsson smut#jolly karlsson fic#jolly karlsson x reader#jolly karlsson fanfiction#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens fanfic#bad omens fic#bad omens smut
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Waves Keep On Crashing On Me For Some Reason
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This is for all the folks who asked for piss kink with stepbro Leon; hope it doesn’t disappoint! It’s my first time writing something like this 🤭
Please heed the warnings this time cause I know not everyone likes this kind of thing!!! 👍
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, piss kink, water sports, dirty talk, name calling, mean Leon, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing
Not proofread ✍️ pretty short too 🫣
Title from Hella Good by No Doubt 🤙
Requests currently CLOSED! 💜
Loose follow up to Dressed Up to the Nines Again but don’t have to read to follow along 👍
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He grins down at your dazed expression as you continue to suckle his cock, “Good thing I didn’t need to piss, could just hold you in place and make you drink that all down too.”’
All week long that moment has been running on a loop in your head. At first you thought it was because you found it to be gross. Leon just being a complete jerk like usual. But as the days wore on, you kept coming back to it and imagining it again and again.
What if he did hold you there and made you drink up all his piss? It makes your pussy hot and wet every time you think on it. You swear you don’t like it, honestly, but just something about it gets you so riled up. Maybe just how unhinged it is, maybe just cause it’s Leon.
You can picture him, holding you in place making you take his cock into your mouth while all that hot urines soaks the back of your throat telling you to drink it all up. Shivering, you feel your nipples harden to the point they’re poking through your shirt while your panties fill with slick.
It’s Friday night and your mom and stepdad are off on their usual date night. Mustering up the courage, you knock on Leon’s door and push it open after he calls out a ‘come in’.
You see him lounging on his bed, swiping through his phone, music playing in the background.
“What’s up? Bored already?” he asks, attention still on his phone.
You fidget in place without answering making him frown up at you.
“Something the matter?”
“I have a question,” you walk over and kneel on his bed, “and it’s only curiosity, okay?”
He closes his phone and sets it aside, “Okay?”
You look down at your hands and pick at your nails.
“H-have you ever, uh, well have you ever,” your voice lowers, “peed on someone?”
“What?” He laughs, “I’m sure I have by accident after getting drunk with some buddies. Why? Are you—“
“No,” you look back up at him in frustration, nerves making you jittery, “I meant like, like what you said the other day.”
His brows furrow, “The other day?”
You lean forward to whisper, “You know when you said you were gonna pee after I sucked you off?”
You sit back on your haunches, heart in your throat.
The confusion is wiped from his face replaced by a smarmy grin, “Ohh. I see what you’re saying. You’re asking if I’ve ever given a girl a golden shower, huh?”
Clamping your thighs together to ignore the pulse of heat that sentence gives you, you nod, “Yeah that.”
He shrugs, still smirking at you, “Why do you wanna know? Interested?”
You lower your gaze, shoulders pulling inwards, “I don’t know.”
“Only one way to find out,” Leon leans against his headboard and pulls his head hard dick out of his sweats, “wanna suck me off?”
You whine before you can stop the noise, slick oozing from your cunt into your panties.
“Yeah you do,” he laughs meanly, cock filling out against his thigh, “get between my legs. Make it easier to wrap those lips around my dick.”
In a daze, you do as he says, shifting over the bedspread until you’re kneeling between his spread thighs.
“Good girl,” he groans, guiding your head down so you can lick and suck at his hardening dick, “gonna fill this little throat with more than just cum, huh?”
You moan, spit dripping from your lips as you suck the fat leaking tip of his cock into your mouth.
“What a slutty little sister I’ve got,” he grips your neck holding you still so he can rock his hips up into your open mouth, “my cum’s not enough, hmm? Need me to piss down your fucking throat?”
Your whimper comes out garbled and wet as Leon fucks his cock into your throat making you gag.
“Never had a girl as nasty as you, baby,” he pulls his cock out with a wet slurping sound and smacks it against your face.
You loll our your tongue as Leon slaps his dick on your cheeks, dragging it across your lips to smear precum all over your face.
“Open up,” he growls, tapping his fat dick on your tongue.
You moan as he slides his cock deep into your mouth, the tip kissing the back of your throat and keeping it there. Swallowing around the intrusion just makes him kick and throb in your mouth.
“Messy girl,” he chuckles derisively, watching as you drool around his cock, “bout to be real messy, right little sis?”
Your eyes flutter as he rocks another couple of inches into your throat, stretching your mouth around the base of his cock. Your body is on fire; your panties are so wet that slick is leaking through your shorts and down your thighs.
You gargle around his throbbing dick, trying to breathe through your nose as he somehow sinks even further into your mouth.
“Use that tongue, princess,” he lightly smacks your cheek with his palm, “work it on my cock.”
Doing as he says, you struggle to run your tongue along the salty skin filling your mouth to its limit. Whining, you lap at his dick, throat clicking when you swallow the spit and precum before it spills over your lips.
“Fuck,” his cock jumps making you cough and push back, thick stringy lines of spit connecting your swollen mouth to his dick.
“Fucking love that,” he groans, smacking his wet cock against your lips, “get that throat slime all over me, princess. Know I’m fucking that tight little hole just right.”
Your eyes are watering, tears slipping down your face as he feeds his cock back into your mouth making you moan, thighs clenching to alleviate the tension in your core.
“You give the sloppiest head,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair to push it away from his face, “so damn good, princess.”
You mewl at the backhanded praise, clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat. Angling your head back, you’re able to suck Leon’s cock more easily into your mouth, lips and tongue working the thick length down your throat until it makes you gag, eyes watering but not letting him pull out.
“Damn, so fucking good,” he groans, watching you with heavy lidded eyes as you cry and choke on his dick.
You keep him there, throbbing and pulsing against your tongue, precum dripping down your throat as you hum and moan around him, brain foggy with arousal. He pushes a little deeper making you gag hard and he slowly pulls out, thick slimy spit hanging from his cock in strings.
He strokes his cock, letting you catch your breath. The wet shlicking noise as he fucks into his fist makes your pussy ache.
“Almost as wet as your pretty cunt, huh? Too bad I’m not buried in that wet little hole,” he mocks you, “but noo, someone just needed to drink big brother’s piss.”
Moaning, you move your face closer to the fist jerking his cock, tongue hanging out.
“Fuck,” he grits out, slapping his cock on your tongue, “get on your knees down on the floor, slut.”
You scramble off the bed, feeling dizzy before sinking down on your knees. Leon stands up off the bed, tossing his shirt and sweats onto the floor at his feet, right where you’re kneeling.
“Gonna cum soon, and you know that that means?” He smirks down at you, stroking his cock right over your face, “you thirsty, princess?”
“Leon,” you whimper, pussy throbbing with want as you put your hands on his thighs.
“Open up for me, show big brother that slutty mouth,” he groans, pushing his cock past your swollen lips to slide into your throat.
With a high whine, you settle on your knees as Leon pulls his cock almost all the way out until just the tip is stretching your lips.
He starts jerking off with quick firm strokes of his hand. Your eyes drag down from his face to his pecs then his toned abs, moaning when you see them flex along with his hips as he fucks his fist.
“Tease the head, princess,” he grunts, stroking himself faster, “mmm yeah that’s it.”
You lap and suckle at his dripping tip, running your tongue over his slit to taste the precum weeping from his cock. Fingers digging into his meaty thighs, you sigh and sink further into that floaty headspace of pleasure.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he pants, hand practically a blur as he jerks off into your mouth, “cumming, fuck, swallow it, swall— yesss.”
Hot spurts of cum fill your mouth and you swallow as soon as it touches your tongue. You moan, eyes hazy as you watch Leon above you. Sticky cum clings to the roof of your mouth making you mewl as you swallow it.
You feel his cock kick as you lap up the last of his cum from the tip. Leon’s hands come up to grab your head. He pushes his cock deeper into your mouth, until the tip is kissing your throat. You whine and let your eyes wander from his abs back up to his face.
With a firm grip, he holds you still as he sighs, “Drink it up now, princess. Don’t wanna make a mess, do we?”
Before you can make any other noise, a small trickle of hot piss leaks into your throat. You whimper and Leon groans as he relaxes more, hot urine now steadily streaming into your throat. He shifts back a little and then fills your mouth with piss making you rock your hips with a moan, eagerly drinking it down.
The hot bitter flavor has you fumbling under your shorts, fingers seeking out your slippery clit.
“God what a fucking slut,” he chokes out a laugh, “almost finished, princess, better not waste any.”
You finger your clit with quick rough circles as you moan and let Leon piss down your throat. He fucks himself a little deeper into your mouth as he finishes up, the hot stream slowly stopping. With a keening moan, you cum in your panties, clit throbbing under your fingertips.
You both sit there for a moment— you in a complete daze as you swallow around his softening dick and Leon just basking in the filthy act.
He finally pulls his cock from your mouth and you shudder out a breath.
Leon pats your cheek and helps you stand on your weak legs.
“Come on, I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
He sits you down on the bed so he can throw his sweats back on then helps you again, practically carrying you out into the hallway.
“Thank you,” you slur, leaning all your weight against his side as he guides you to the shared bathroom.
“I should thank you,” he laughs dropping a kiss on the top of your head, “hell of a way to spend Friday night in.”
You hum and nuzzle into his side further letting yourself relax.
#stepcest#stepbro!leon s kennedy x fem!reader#stepbro!leon s kennedy#stepbro leon s kennedy/you#water sports#piss kink#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy x reader smut#leon s kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x fem!reader#fem!reader#lipglossanon
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Until Death Do You Vow Ch1 Prologue
'Never make a promise you can't keep' and 'wake the dead' are two figures of speech that should never EVER go together. Nor should it be a good idea to do a paranormal investigation in a cemetery while still angry at your ex.
(The Groom of Gallagher Mansion Semi Corpse Bride Au.
DISCLAIMERS AND WARNINGS!! The game that these characters are from is for 18+ folks only. While this story will be absolutely sfw the game itself is not and contains things ONLY for an 18+ audience. I do NOT in anyway own the game or characters. They belong to their rightful owners. I do not own the movie Corpse Bride either. I also don't own the coverart which is a pic from their merch line. I only own this story here. In the beginning it will have a character briefly from the game Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack which is also a game for ONLY 18+ folks and that I ALSO do NOT own!! It's only referenced here and not part of the story.
There WILL be mentioning of death, murder, blood, etc. those parts will have warnings at the top of the chapters. If ANY chapters come with warnings PLEASE READ AND HEED THEM!!!
Just imagine your wedding dress similar to the one above/linked below only with a longer veil and train that trails behind you.
https://images.app.goo.gl/V4BZ1rEaXstvYx696
Warnings: Ian cheats on both reader and Mc from SWWSDJ.)
Church bells chimed in the morning.
Flowers. Soft petals. Meant for their beauty to symbolize the beauty of the bride.
Organ music. To match in chimes of the steps of the bride walking down the aisle.
An audience to shed tears of happiness for many happy moments to come from this union.
Smiles shown at one another in the joys of the moment.
A breath to fill your lungs trying not to cry as you smiled up at the man in front of you. The one you were going to marry and have a life with after you both finally graduated. But this moment couldn't wait. This magical moment after a year. Some say it was fast but you supposed it was called love at first sight for a reason.
Or at least it was supposed to be. A wedding was nothing if a groom never showed up for his bride leaving her humiliated by the alter and missing the wedding entirely. Only to show up after everyone decided to call it quits and leave for the night. Waiting for you with baited breath and a guilty look on his face. He wasn't even wearing a tuxedo. But better late than never.
"Ian! There you are! Where have you been? Y'know what? Nevermind! The priest is still here. We can go inside and still elope even if everyone left already!"
Smiles turned to him exceedingly and in joy-
"I-...I-I can't."
Reality shattered. Gasps wracked around. Silence fell.
Your eyes blinked at his guilty face. "I-...What?"
"I'm sorry, Y/n." His hands released yours as he looked down. "But I can't go through with this! I-... I've been having an affair with you behind someone else's back. Someone whom knows and left me a year ago."
More gasps were had. A bouquet of flowers dropped from your hands to your feet. Time seemed to slow before completely freezing.
"W-What?!"
"I really did try to make this work! I thought if I forced myself to invest time with you I'd forget all about them but I couldn't and I still don't. I still love them!"
Your world shattered as humiliation, guilt, regret, anger all swirled about behind shock which was the strongest emotion. Keeping you from saying anything as Ian without looking up at you took off his ring and without saying anything pushed it back into your palms.
"Here. Take this. You can sell it to get some money. I-It's the least you deserve after what I put you and them through. I'm-... I'm sorry, Y/n. I really am."
He then left the bride standing there. Nothing but white on her body. Tears on her cheeks. And crushed flowers at her feet. No one but her lonely self for comfort in the moonlight so late at night.
#the groom of gallagher mansion#elias gallagher x reader#elias gallagher#tgogm#Until death do you vow#thegroomofgallaghermansion#taylor potts x reader#taylor potts#something's wrong with sunny day jack#ian duff#Ian Duff x reader#swwsdj
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More girlboss ghost's wife plz 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽
HAHAHAHAH!!!! MORE BAD BITCHING AND I LOVEE IT!! btw for those who have sent in requests, I am doing them in the order I get them! I don't have that many but work has been killing me recently!
Don't Fuck with That~
Ghost x F!Reader (Never really mentioned gender-wise)
Rating: B for Boss Bitch
Warnings: Harsh language to women, and alcohol? yeah
Words: 1150
One thing you may expect about the life of a mother of two is chaos, especially with your husband gone for long periods of time. It's a lot, you will admit. Yet, you bring the Bad Bitch you were and made it looks like child's play. To be honest, you didn't know how the fuck you did it yourself, but you managed! After a month or so you do start to lose your mind, saying that you barely have any free time after handling things. Luckily you have the best husband ever!
On days when Simon would return home after a mission, the first thing he does is take the kids to go see your family! Or if that isn't available, he'll ask the boys to babysit for the night. Usually, Soap loves to babysit the little monsters. In any case, the kids are out of your hair! Simon takes this to have you go buck wild wherever you want. This time you chose to relax and have drinks at a dive bar! Nothing is more distressing than the one day you can pump yourself with your favorite alcohol!
Simon, during this time, stays relatively sober just to watch the chaos unravel. You being drunk is what he calls a spectacle. "You know Simon," you looked over at him taking another swig of your glass, "how did you of all people end up with such rowdy sperm monsters??" You growled as you leaned upon the table. Simon chuckled, sipping some more whiskey.
"I don't know," he placed his glass down, "why don't you ask their mother?"
"Yeah, you're right!" your face lit up for a mere moment before fully taking in his words, "wait a fucking minute you bastard! I'm their mother!!"
"Exactly," He took another sip, "Look at yourself, I love you but those rascals get it all from you." Simon chuckled before looking back to see you gulping another glass.
"Bartender, another glass for me please!" You spoke in a mopey tone, "Imma need more to drink away the sorrow of my husband's harsh but true words!" Having said that, you burst into laughter. Leaning against your husband's shoulder as you tried to grasp your breath. Simon shook his head, leaning his head upon yours.
"Honestly, what do I do with you." He chuckled as the bartender motioned that this was your last drink. Wasting no time, you took a large gulp; letting out a refreshing sigh you flashed Simon a content smile. "Enjoy that drink, It's your last." You placed your hand over your mouth, so close to spitting out your precious booze. You leaned your head back downing what you had in your mouth.
"Says who!" You clutched to Simon in desperation, "How could you deprive me of my only day off!" Simon finished his glass, motioning for another. He pointed to himself; the bartender nodded. "How come you get another!"
"One, the bartender. Two, I'm going to be here for a bit." Simon nodded as he swapped his old glass for a newly filled one, "Lastly, cause I'm not nearly as drunk as you." You huffed in defeat, despite being hammered, you could tell you were HAMMERED. You downed the rest of your glass, standing up from your seat.
"Imma head to the restroom," you kissed his cheek and left. Simon took a moment to look around. Most things you'd see in a bar were there; The noisy folk, the drunk asleep in the back corner, and groupies of all varieties. One thing caught his eye, more like he had caught their eye if anything. A group of ladies whispered among themselves as they looked over to one of them and then back to him. Not necessarily an uncommon sight for him, saying he is fairly attractive without his mask on. Yet he looked away, paying no heed to the group and returning to his drink. Surely no one is stupid to hit on him seeing he had been hanging with you this whole time... keyword he thought...
"Hey, there Handsome," a voice called out next to him. He ignored it despite no one being on the other side. Until sadly, someone poked his shoulder. "I'm speaking to you sir; can I buy you a drink? " Simon sighed, a frown staining his face.
"No thanks, for your sake you should leave; I'm happily married."
"To that wreck? Oh, honey, I can show you a real woman." the woman cackled as she leaned closer, "I can rock your world baby; just give me a chance. ~" she spoke in a seductive whisper into Simon's ear. He placed his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her away.
"One last time, it's best if you leave."
"Oh, come one, leave with me, baby!" She beckoned, "you'll send those papers after one night with me, trust me. ~"
"I wouldn't fuck with that if I were you," Simon turned to face you, "you must be blind 'cause I'm sure you and your group of whores knew he was mine." Your eyes flared with anger. You cracked your knuckles, leaning your head to the side with a cynical smirk. The women slowly turned around, seeing the demon incarnate festering with glaring eyes that could kill. She went pale as a ghost, "Now, I suggest you turn tail to your groupie before I shove something in those open legs of yours that you won't find pleasurable." The woman gulped loudly, comedically loud. Rushing off to return to her little gang, you laughed loudly as you watched her run, "Go on run faster bitch; pick a better target next time!" You sent a kiss in her direction and returned your gaze to your husband whose eyes were on you the entire time, admiring you with a soft grin. "Liked the show?"
"I believe that's your best performance yet." You walked to him, and instead of sitting in your seat next to him, you sat promptly on his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder, "Extremely attractive, if I may add; Despite all these years, you continue to amaze me, dove."
"Can I have one more drink then?" you turned to face him, hitting him with big puppy eyes. Simon sighed, never one to give in to puppy eyes, yet perhaps today will be his exception.
"Fine," He motioned for two more, "last one, so enjoy it." You cheered happily, grabbing Simon's cheeks and giving him a big smooch.
"Thank you, thank you! You're the best husband ever, Simon!!" You hugged him tightly; in response, he rubbed your back, "I love you so much, Simon..." You spoke softly.
"I love you too, (y/n)," he whispered in return. Taking his glass in hand and handing you yours, "Cheers?" You stared down at your glass and then back to him with a warm smile, both sharing that longing for each other.
"Cheers."
#simon x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod mw22#codwarzone#cod mw#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare 2 remastered#modern warfare#ghost x reader
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— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [2] (M)
— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.
❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find. it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞
〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)
— pairing: ot8 x reader, mxm (this chapter); wooyoung x reader, yunho x reader; 11.4k
— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.
CHAPTER WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping, emotional turmoil, injuries, slight descriptions of gore
Desire is such a futile thing. Grasping at a fleeting fit of passion that will be over in just a few breaths. Yearning for a moment ever so brief, it was like it never even began. It only continues to ponder you as you stare at the book of forgotten history, tucked between an old Jane Eyre and newly found poetry. It's an odd place, but Soobin himself is odd. He thought that it would allow someone to find a new interest – resting unlike books next to one another. You yourself didn't even know the book existed until you stumbled upon it. Your fingers glide along the pages, many dog-eared. A part of you hopes that whenever Soobin comes back he could tell you why he noted these particular pages. If he ever does, that is. The lump in your throat continues. You flip a page with hopes to distract yourself.
The multitude of Fae folk is still unknown. Ranging from the dozens to hundreds, not one researcher agrees on how many exactly exist, or if they truly exist at all. But what we all know is that it begins with disappearances.
Until a town is drained dry.
You close the book, the familiar chill creeping up again. The store is closed now and you've checked twice to make sure it's empty. There is no real reason why you feel fear. But you're not one to ignore it. You tuck the book away, locking up the front gates to the store and exiting promptly, the apartment above the store left abandoned.
It has been over a month now since Soobin has disappeared. You've been interviewed by the local sheriff's department for your involvement and your plea for innocence was believed. No one could say nor prove it was your fault that Soobin suddenly vanished. Nothing tied you to it. Even the townsfolk, as bitter as they may be that you weren't the one to leave, told the police that you were at various stores in town when he was no longer around. You could only thank them. Perhaps your reputation isn't as heinous as you once thought.
Contacting his family was your biggest fear. His parents told you that Soobin called at the time, explaining he needed time away then never called again. They aren't as worried as you, apologizing for the way he broke up with you. Neither of you understand why he just left. It's not like him. He fights tooth and nail and never just leaves. Foul play has been ruled out but you just can't wrap your head around it. The two of you loved one another. Giving up that easily… Do you even know the real Choi Soobin?
Have you ever?
"Haven't I told you not to walk home alone?"
Seonghwa appears next to you as he always does. Hands tucked in his sleek trench coat, the same friendly smile on his lips. His strange appearance is nothing new. A few times a week he seemingly conjures up on empty streets and sidewalks to walk you home. Only another check on your list of him not being human. He never threatened you nor persuaded you with anything nefarious as of yet, but his presence still brought fear. One day the visits wouldn't be so meaningless. One day he won't be as kind.
"There's no one ever around for me to be scared, Hwa," you say. "Unless you want me to be afraid of you."
"You should be mindful. Not everyone is as they seem. You should know from experience."
Whether or not his words are a purposeful jab is frivolous, but they do sting. "Feels like a warning for me to stay away from you, Seonghwa."
He doesn't stop walking, his voice is softer this time. "I didn't mean it that way. You know that."
You do. Since you've met the mysterious man all he's done is stand up for you. Irritate the locals with his snarky remarks, enough so that many began to leave you alone. Sure, the lack of customers is quite severe at this moment, it was better than having to force a smile on your lips as they mentioned how Soobin ran the store better than you ever have. There's only so many strained smiles you could muster.
But trusting Seonghwa? The creature of the night who you are ninety-five percent sure is a Faerie? An Unseelie one at that? You can only hold back your scoff. What you have found about them is helpful. One of which you haven't tested yet – whether or not they could lie. Now is a prime opportunity. You glance at the man walking next to you, before speaking. Low ball questions first, before you can gradually ask the important ones.
"Do you think I'm doing well?" You ask.
His brow raises. "Change of subject?"
"A bit, but not really. I just… it's been a lot, being on my own now. I was self-sufficient before I met him and still am, but things are different. I wanted this dream with him. I wanted to struggle with him. Sometimes I wonder if all of this is worth it. If I should even wait for him."
"You are doing well," he murmurs. "As well as a human can under these circumstances."
Your chest begins to tighten at his words. The thought of proving yourself right is gone. The sincerity of his goes in one ear and out the other. Only one word you can focus on. One sticking out in the sentence, bile gathering at the back of your throat.
Human.
No one you've met in your entire life speaks of people that way. You struggle to hold your poker face. Pretend that nothing is wrong. You take a slow breath. "Thank you."
"It's not a problem. Ah, I must go now though, my family will be wondering where I am by now," he glances at his watch, before shooting you a small smile. "I will see you soon, y/n. Have a good rest."
He turns on his heels before you can say more, disappearing into the night. You hold your bag closer to yourself, steps quickening. You have little option left. You can't leave the town no matter how much you want to – that'll mean leaving the bookstore behind. A sound minded person would forget about it and just leave but you can't. Despite how disappointed you are for Soobin leaving you alone, you can't leave the store. It's silly, but you still care about him. It'll hurt you to see the store fall apart. You just hope he'll come back soon.
Maybe then he'll be able to tell you if you're being delusional or not.
-
"She knows." Seonghwa enters his home, frustration coating his features. "I fucked it up and now she knows."
"Told you~" Wooyoung's falsetto tone rings through the corridors. "I should have gone to her instead."
The glare Seonghwa sends him is enough for Wooyoung to drop his grin, exiting the room. Jongho and Yunho are the only other two in the room, both focused on reading. They're underdressed for this time of night; Seonghwa knows that Hongjoong planned another visit to the human world for food. And it's their turn to join them, though they look too involved in their own separate readings to even change out of their sleepwear. Yunho looks up from the writings.
"On a scale from Hongjoong tripping on a rock to Mingi setting fire to a village, how bad?"
Seonghwa sighs. "I said humans in front of her."
Jongho winces, "No coming back from that. What did you do after?"
"I panicked and left. Her heart rate picked up and her perspiration began coating her forehead. I thought I would be able to last longer–"
"She is quite intelligent. It wouldn't have taken her longer than another week to put the pieces together. You just sped up the process," Yunho murmurs. "But the question still remains: How do we explain this to everyone else?"
"We don't," Jongho closes his book softly, glancing between them. "Wooyoung is very likely running around our home right now telling every living soul what happened. We'll just have to deal with the repercussions. She knows now, which means that she will avoid you Seonghwa. And will very likely be wary of any new people hovering around her. It won't be as easy this time to convince her to come here."
"We keep her here then?" Yunho suggests.
"No…" Seonghwa stops pacing, thinking. "She trusts me. At least more than the rest of us. I can convince her to come here willingly."
"Can you?"
Seonghwa frowns. He's not too sure. He's broken it at this point. Struggling to mend it back together will just take too long. You'll slip right through their fingers. So despite how much he does not want to consider this choice, it's all he has. Perhaps the incessant little voice in the back of his head is correct.
"Wooyoung may be able to. I know we've avoided his particular methods, but there's little left to be done. The rest of us aren't as friendly as him, aside from Yunho. And you often avoid humans entirely because of your attachment issues."
Yunho frowns, "Thanks for pointing that out."
"Your decision has come too late," Another voice interrupts them, their gaze moving to the door. San leans on the threshold, cross arms against his chest. "The little turnip has already left our home. It's only a matter of time that he stumbles upon her path."
Their combined groans echo around the room.
-
Wooyoung sits on the edge of the stone fence, leg swinging. He can recall Seonghwa saying that he saw you meander by this path often, but it’s been several days now and Wooyoung himself hasn’t seen you once. Perhaps it was a different path? His fingers run along the stone, humming. Moss covers the gray now, the elements turning it into a darkened, brown color. He whispers into his fingers, pressing them back to the stone. His gaze softens when he sees the color slowly coming back.
“Humans,” he murmurs, scowling. A sweet smell fills his nose. He looks up from the rock, licking his lips. You stand at the end of the path, frozen in your spot. Your hands grip the straps of your bag. Eyes widened in fear. His match yours, but instead in glee, hopping off his spot. You don’t move – even as he slides down the hill, stopping just in front of you.
His hair is long and wavy, framing his cheeks. Kind eyes that seem to be without malice. But you’re not too sure of that. Faeries have a way of concealing their true intentions without much effort. He pushes strands away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. His wear is unusual – mossy green transparent attire adorning his slim frame, barefoot, though no sign of torn skin from the rough ground. You wrinkle your nose. Dwelling on odd observations won't pull you out of this situation.
“y/n. Seonghwa never told me you were easy on the eyes. It’ll be sadder for me to dance with you now,” he frowns, gaze flicking over your face. Dance?
He leans forward. “Your aura is bright. You remind me of a sunset.”
You try and pretend the familiar name does not phase you. It's difficult – you've suspected endlessly that Seonghwa is a faerie and his words are merely confirmation. So maybe this is a friend of his, or family? Either way it doesn't matter to you. Sticking around is the last thing you want.
“I have to be somewhere,” you say through tight lips. He shrugs, taking another step toward you. Panic settles in your chest. No one is around, no one would stop him even if they were. You're all alone in this. “Sir, pardon me–”
“Oh!” He grins, laughing. “Sir? Do not tease me, human. My name is Wooyoung. Ah wait, look at this my lux solaris.” He turns his hand over, palm facing you. You look away from it, a sigh echoing around you. “I won’t kill you, you know.”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t hurt me.” A quick thought crosses your mind: where’s Soobin when you need him? Just as the silly thought appears it's gone. Nowhere. Nowhere around here for all you know. You hate how your mind next moves to the kind Seonghwa. Would he do anything? Or will he only allow this to happen? And why are you depending so much on a man – no, faerie.
He purses his lips, “You know the way of the fae. Fine, I won’t hurt you or ensnare you or kill you in any way right now. Now look,” he nudges you slightly. You finally move your eyes down to his hand. Using his other hand, he drags his pointer finger across his palm. A bright yellow path follows it, disappearing off the edge of his palm. His eyes flick to yours, grin widening.
“It is solaris, like you.” he closes his fist, “I’ve practiced that trick for hundreds of years now, you know. It’s hard for humans to see the Will o’ the Wisp without falling prey. So you must be quite special."
You back away from him, "It was a trick?"
"No, because I can't lie as you know," he rolls his eyes. "I just knew you wouldn't fall underneath the spell because we have tried it already on you, silly."
…
"Excuse me?"
"You are resistant to our will, solaris. And none of us quite know why. I'm here to pretend to woo you and guide you back to our home to do testing. By any means necessary. And if my surly words don't work, I'll do it by force."
Everything he says confuses you more and more. "Why would you tell me you're to lure me?"
His smile slips. "What would you rather me do, lie? You know yourself that Unseelie cannot lie. So why shall I tread around the truth?"
"Will Seonghwa be there?"
He rolls his eyes. "Of course. He needs to be there so he can see that my method works much better than he has ever done or ever will."
"... Is there any way for me to get out of this?"
He pouts, shaking his head. "Of course not."
Debating on running would be also silly then. He lets you ponder, folded hands resting behind him as he paces. You look back at the path. Just as you're about to turn, Wooyoung appears by your side. His sudden presence makes you stumble, falling back to the sidewalk. He sighs, watching as you gather your things and stand again.
"Running would be useless. I can just make you come with me solaris. But I want to make this easy."
"Kidnapping someone is never easy," you murmur between tight lips. Why did you ever decide to enter this town? It seems like every signal mythical creature around is appearing. It wouldn't shock you if Soobin suddenly appeared, explaining his disappearance is due to him being a merman. The thought makes you snort.
Wooyoung grins. "Now you understand! Let's go!" He touches your elbow lightly, and before you can shove him off, an uneasy feeling settles over you. It grips your skin, painfully pulling against the surface before your surroundings change. You can barely breathe, falling to the grass beneath you. The sidewalk from before is gone, replaced with thickened underbrush and endless woods. You swallow, mouth dry.
"Hm," he bends down, eyes roaming over you once. "Perhaps Hongjoong was right when he told me humans couldn't demanifest."
"You're sick," you manage to speak, coughing. Your body slowly begins to feel like your own, trembles cascading through you. Wooyoung does nothing to help, looking you over as you finally bring yourself back to the reality in front of you. It's difficult to stand but you manage. Your bag is gone, probably somewhere between the split of reality he just dragged you through. "Never do that again."
"I won't. Demanifestation seemed to have done a number on you and I apologize for that. But it appears that a part of you was left behind."
You immediately touch your body. Your clothes are intact, fingers touching your hair. You look at him in confusion, his wicked smile stretching across his cheeks. The breath that comes out feels louder than before.
"You tricked me."
"No," his brows furrow. "Your bag. It's still back on the sidewalk. But your town is … well, I'm sure it will remain in the same place."
There's no reason to reply, steadying yourself. You look around, the forest too dense for you to see any opening. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with the faerie. He knows it as well.
"We're done after this?"
He doesn't say a word.
—
“Our home is quite simple since we live in the middle of the Rowan trees. We have to make sure it’s hidden enough from both humans and other faeries,” he explains. You notice how light his steps are, as if he is floating over bricks, barely making an imprint in the dirt. Unlike yourself – stumbling ungracefully over rocks and forestry, trying your best to stabilize yourself. Wooyoung doesn’t point out your lack of coordination, still speaking about the grandeur of a house that’s … the opposite? You're not too sure on the nuances.
“There’s no need to worry,” he says after a moment, stopping just in front of you. "I'm not bringing you to your death."
"You vaporized me and transported me to the middle of a forest, and shortly after told me you didn't realize it would bother me. So I'm sorry if I don't exactly trust anything you say to me."
"It's true," he whines. You stare at him strangely. He has to be much older than you – Unseelie live to unfathomable ages from what you've read. They're conniving and humorous to capture you but after, ruthless and unforgiving. Now that Wooyoung has you, you can't see why he's still acting so silly. Humorous even. You might even enjoy his company if you weren't in the situation you are right now.
"Okay," you murmur.
He holds out his hand. Fear curls in you as you take his. His skin is warm, fingers entwining in yours with ease. He stares ahead, humming. "Humans can't see our home since we're quite close to neighborhoods. Hold onto me until we pass the threshold, alright? And don't let go until I tell you. It'll feel as if your body is being torn apart if you don't pass through properly. Do you understand?" There isn't any teasing like before, eyes focused. You nod, and he matches you. With his free hand, he holds it out.
The air seems to shimmer and bend beneath his fingertips, twisting reality. Just as quick as he does it, your surroundings change. What was once endless forest is now a large structure in the middle of overgrown trees. The home looks pristine despite its surroundings, vines covering and growing into the brickface. It looks to be three floors, a wrap around porch, all of the windows and doors ajar. Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief. His fingers begin to slip from yours. Your own grip tightens and he furrows his brows, confused.
“Hm?” His lips part, recognition. “Ah, I’ve pulled you through the fabric of reality already, solaris. You can let go whenever you like. Though I don’t mind continuing to hold you.”
You let go, his laugh echoing through the forest. Without pause he walks toward the home, not bothering to turn and see if you’d follow. You do, of course. There’s no reason for you to try and run away now, you’re deep enough in the woods that you’d lose your sense of direction and end up lost. The smell of something sweet glides through the low breeze. Cinnamon-like. Wooyoung enters through the front doors, glancing around before turning down a hallway.
“No one’s around,” he murmurs, glancing back at you. “Seonghwa should be here soon though, he’s not out with the others.”
You pass by an open kitchen. Everything is neat and tidy, table set with lavish flatware and utensils. As you squint, you’re sure it’s made out of some type of gemstone. He continues down the hall.
“He’ll be going to his library first, so we should wait there.”
You stick closer to him now, carefully maneuvering so that your shoes don’t stumble over loose vines moving in and out of the hardwood. The doors down this hallway are closed, locks hanging from the knobs. You don’t say a word but he seems to notice your expression, grinning.
“Unseelie are quite forgetful when it comes to locks. We’ve locked ourselves out enough from places around here that we thought it best to just leave the keys in the knob.”
“None of you are afraid of an intruder?”
He chuckles, “No one would dare enter without our permission, solaris. That’s just a death wish.”
He opens the doors at the end of the hall, beckoning you inside and closing the door behind the two of you. The room is enormous, stories high shelving, endless literature surrounding you. Some titles you recognize from your own bookstore, others unfamiliar. There’s a lot in languages you cannot begin to understand or recognize. It seems endless as your eyes roam. Your stomach twists. Soobin would have loved to see this for himself.
“Ah, he must have cleaned up,” Wooyoung murmurs. “Wonder if he saw the mess Jongho left.”
You walk around slowly, careful not to disturb anything. “How many of you live here?”
“Why? Want a room?” Wooyoung sits on the edge of a table, legs swinging. “I don’t mind it.”
“Just want to know what I’m dealing with,” you frown.
“Hm,” he stretches his fingers, counting beneath his breath, “One, two… Eight. Including me.”
Eight Unseelies. And that's just the amount that live near your home. You can only imagine how many roam the streets, disguised as humans. Dwelling among you. You called the townspeople silly for believing in such superstitions. Now they would just laugh in your face if they knew the truth.
"The people missing…?" You trail off.
Wooyoung doesn't respond to your inquiry. He's moved towards a desk, flipping through the pages in silence. You almost repeat it until he turns to you, eyes flicking between yours.
"We simply ask for a dance. It's their decision on whether they'd like to take our hand. You are your own maker. It's more fun that way.”
A chill passes over you.
He balances a flask between his fingers, humming an unfamiliar tune. Allowing him to drag you through the forbidden Rowan trees into their home is not exactly what you planned, but is there any other choice? Figuring out what he is, what they are, is another point added to your list. There’s just no plan after it. So what if they’re Unseelie? The townsfolk would rather sacrifice you than their own family members. And you can’t blame them. They’ve already blamed the disappearances on you. This will only be something else added to their endless list of hating you.
"You scare me."
Wooyoung looks at you, eyes seemingly somewhere else entirely. "A wise choice."
The door slides open, familiar hands gripping the panel before sliding it back. His eyes slide over to Wooyoung, before looking at you. He lets out the loudest sound you’ve heard from him, groans bouncing against the walls. It’s a bit surprising to see him in such fancy wear, close to what he wore when you first met. His fingers gently rub his temples, obscenities mumbled under his breath.
“You’re just getting worse by every moment,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “If I were Hongjoong you would have been thrown to the Seelie by now.”
“You wouldn’t!” Wooyoung gasps. It’s very much exaggerated, eyes wide. The moment that just passed between the two of you long gone.
“I would. Fortunate for you that I cannot,” he barely glances at you. “You’d follow a stranger into the woods? Have you not listened to any of the words I’ve said?” His tone is harsher than before, formerly kind eyes filled with mire. It was quite silly of you to think that for a second he actually did enjoy your presence. Unseelie are the way they are. He is no different than the rest.
“I had no choice, he threatened the town.”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “Of course he did. Why do you even care for a town that doesn’t care for you?”
“Why am I even here?” you say. Seonghwa does not bother to reply to you, fingers gracing one of the leather bound books. He walks past the two of you, lounging in the chair in the farthest corner.
“Hello?”
“Seonghwa wants to experiment on you,” Wooyoung shrugs. “Each attempt that he’s tried to use his abilities on you has faltered. It’s like you’re immune to it. That’s why he’s been spending so much time with you, learning the way you work, your habits and schedules. To see if there’s some explanation for your resistance. Unfortunately he hasn’t found a lead yet. So, I decided to bring you here to see if any of the others can penetrate that strong will of yours, and for him to continue to conduct his research.”
"You're joking."
Wooyoung shakes his head. "Not in the slightest."
You grab your bag, ignoring the pleading eyes Wooyoung attempts to send you. He steps in your way and you only slide beneath his outstretched arms, leaving the room all together. Wooyoung turns around to catch Seonghwa's gaze, pout burned into his lips. Said man still doesn't look up from his book. Of course, Wooyoung could have stopped you if he truly wanted to. An Unseelie versus a human is an easy match. But his mate likes the theatrics of it all, so Seonghwa sinks further into his seat, frames resting on the tip of his nose. It's for show – none of the Unseelie have bad eyesight.
Wooyoung slumps over, knees hitting the mossy floors. "Hyung, please," he whines.
"Typical Wooyoung. Only respecting me when he needs something," Seonghwa murmurs, flipping a page. "Go after her, I'm not your babysitter. Preferably sooner rather than later, unless you want Jongho or Mingi to stumble across a human in our home."
"You're supposed to help me."
"Your mess, not mine," he points out. "Why do you expect me to clean it up? Do it yourself."
"What will you do if they think she's food?"
Seonghwa shrugs. “They know who she is already.”
"Your experiment!"
Seonghwa pauses in his reading for a moment, looking up. He does want to see what exactly is different about you. A clan member taking your life before it happens isn't what he wants. But he's grown tired of fixing things that aren't his problem. Especially one as monumental as this. He gets up, pushing past his grinning mate and exiting the room. It isn't hard to trace your tracks, your heartbeat louder than anyone else's in this home. He just hopes that he gets to you first.
—
Walking through the home is easy and straightforward. You don't bother glancing to the side, previously closed doors ajar casting fear in your heart. Wooyoung so easily lets his words flow, telling you that Seonghwa planned on experimenting, perhaps even dissecting you. All of it is too much, too soon. Too overwhelming for you to comprehend without losing your mind. You step out the front doors, suddenly stopping.
Wooyoung warned you of stepping through without holding his hand. Is that danger gone, or do you still have to worry? Are you forced to stay here against your will?
You should never have gone to that silly bonfire.
"You'll die if you leave without our permission."
You turn, Seonghwa standing there. His hands are tucked in the pocket of his cardigan, glancing over your shoulder. "We never leave it open. A few more yards and you'd be vaporized."
"Wouldn't you enjoy that?"
His lip quips, "Wooyoung told you that I wanted to experiment on you. It would be difficult to achieve that if you're only dust in the wind."
The change of personalities is still difficult to grasp.
"Then what do you propose?" You say.
"Stay longer. I'll let you go after I've tried a few things. None of it involves seriously injuring you. It's just blood sampling and majik tests. Should be no more than an hour. Once that is complete I will do further tests, but that will be in a few days."
"... and then you will let me go?"
He nods, "I have no reason for you to stay. You're not a real burden to us since no other faeries are around. As of now you’re no threat."
The alarms are blaring in your head as you stare at him, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. His words aren't enough to convince you, but you have little choice. You need one of them to help you leave. And you're positive they wouldn't until you let Seonghwa do whatever he needs to test and see why you're resistant to them. There's nothing else to debate or dwell on. The front porch creaks, Wooyoung leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. The same smug look on his face.
–
"Pretty," Yunho whispers to himself, sitting on the edge of the roof. He leans forward, dust and leaves from the tiles cascading down to the ground. It's as if in slow motion, your gaze flicking to the fallen leaves. Surprisingly, you don't look up to see where they've come from. Instead, you catch one between your fingers. Examining it for a brief moment you tuck it in your pocket, following Seonghwa into their home. Yunho almost slips as he follows your movements, flustered. He sighs, pressing his hands against his cheeks. They're quite warm despite the drop in degrees tonight.
Too pretty, he thinks. Humans aren't this pretty. The others said you weren't a faerie, but were you something else? He lets his thoughts linger, until the loud stomping of Mingi's feet distract him. He glances back, his friend sitting to the right of him. His clothing is freshly pressed. No evidence of tonight's events covering him.
"You're getting distracted already," Mingi points out, the front door closing behind you and Seonghwa. "This isn't something to attach yourself to, Yunho. An experiment and nothing else."
Yunho rolls his eyes, "I know I know, and I'm not getting distracted. She's just a human." He narrows his eyes. Right.
You're just a human.
—
"Arm."
Wooyoung’s eyes widen as he stands there, almost perturbed at the thought. “Pardon?”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “I need a baseline for the testing. Having your blood is necessary to see the differences and compare.”
“I don’t want to be used in your experiments on her!” Wooyoung’s voice rises, glancing at you. “Sorry.”
“No need,” you shrug. Your arm is wrapped, Seonghwa already pricked you with the small needle. Bottles of your blood sit on the side, labeled with symbols you recognize from Unseelie literature scattered about. He didn’t say anything to you as he took it from you, passed you a sugary drink and a cookie. It would have been endearing if he didn’t look so frustrated while doing it. You debated on calling him out at the look but again, you’d rather not irritate a being you know nothing of. The Seonghwa you’ve met is gone. Replaced with this angry and quite bitter Unseelie.
“Why do you make everything so difficult,” Seonghwa rubs his forehead. “Why are you even standing there if you’re not willing to help-”
“I’ll volunteer.”
Another voice enters the conversation, your gaze moving to the man who just entered the room. He’s taller than Seonghwa, quite tall actually. His face is kind, brown eyes filled with glee as they look at you. Unlike Wooyoung’s teasing which seems a bit unnerving at times, his look is easy. As if his lips naturally sit in a small smile. He lifts his sleeve, stepping around Wooyoung.
“Nice to finally see the shining star. I’m Yunho,” he holds out his hand and you take it. You can’t help but notice how despite how you always insisted that your hands are pretty big, he just engulfs yours.
“Hi. I’m y/n.”
He laughs softly, “That I know.”
Wooyoung’s voice rises. “Wait-”
“We don’t have time for the back and forth with you,” Seonghwa murmurs, beckoning Yunho closer. “Next time just say you’re okay with it and move on.”
Wooyoung’s frown only seems to deepen. He huffs, glancing between all of you before exiting the room. The door slams quite loudly, unable to stop yourself from flinching.
“It’ll be quick, you already know what to do,” Seonghwa says. Without another word he slides the needle into Yunho’s skin. You notice that his blood is clear, a thicker consistency than yours. Seonghwa pulls out several vials of it, the silence growing. Just as quick as he began it’s over. He grabs the vials, glancing between the two of you. “I’ll be back in a moment, talk amongst yourselves.” He walks off, murmuring something about refrigeration.
Yunho’s gaze easily slides over to yours. “I’m sorry about Wooyoung. He gets a bit antsy when it comes to things like this. We are wary of sharing their blood.”
“Can I ask why?”
He nods. “You might know a bit about us already from interacting, but when it comes to our essence it is sacred. Faeries are sensitive to blood exchanges because it is only something you do with a fae you are mated to. The majority of us would never willingly give up our blood for something like this. That’s why Seonghwa didn’t offer himself, and why Wooyoung was so flabbergasted at the thought of your blood mixing with his. It’s a quite sensitive topic.”
“And yet…” You trail off. And yet you did it without a second thought.
“Mhm,” he agrees, still staring at you. “The others think you’re special. So I would love to have the honor to be the baseline for the experimentation,” he chuckles, sliding his sleeve back down. “Seonghwa isn’t coming back, by the way. He’s told me to guide you out the forest and back to your home.”
Trying to decipher the wording is too much for your tired mind to comprehend right now.
“Demanifestation again?” Your stomach lurches at the thought. You’re not sure you’d survive it a second time.
Yunho shakes his head quickly. “Never. Wooyoung is a fool to have done that to you. We’ll be traveling on foot. Your home isn’t too far away from where we reside. I just need to help you through the barrier.”
You agree, standing slowly. Yunho reaches out his arm and you take it, thanking him softly. The hallways are quiet as you walk through, glancing at him. You can see his gaze glued to one of the doors you pass by, giving you a quick smile as he picks up the pace. You exit their home, and he does the same as Wooyoung did. The forest warps, the home disappearing behind you.
“You can continue to walk straight. The forest will guide you home,” he says softly, bowing. “I wish I could accompany you, but some Unseelie has been making a bit of a mess in our home and I need to fix it before Hongjoong comes.”
Hongjoong. You’ve heard the name a few times. Enough so that you can guess he’s their leader of sorts. But you’ve involved yourself enough. “Thanks for helping me. Straight you said?”
He nods, “Straight. See you soon, y/n.” He turns on his heels, dissipating into the forest. You can only imagine what the town would say if you told them of this encounter. Staring at the spot he once was, you turn back around, walking straight.
-
Yunho winces at the noise, shutting the front door. All of the doors of the home are open, various items thrown carelessly on the hardwood floor. He notices that the door to the library is shut. Seonghwa has had enough of it, it appears. Yunho does not blame him in the slightest. He steps over the broken vases and torn books, head aching already.
“What an incompetent Unseelie. Thriving in chaos does not mean we want it all over our floors,” Seonghwa’s voice echoes through the hallway. Ah, perhaps he is trying to deal with it now?
Yunho steps around the corner, entering Wooyoung’s room. It’s in a dire state, clothing and potion spilled, sheets ripped in half. Just as Yunho steps through the threshold, he’s thrown against the wall. Wooyoung’s hand wraps around his neck, his claw digging into Yunho’s skin. It doesn’t hurt, no, but it is a bit uncomfortable.
“What’s the reason?” he says through struggling breaths. He pulls his hand off with ease, coughing. “Shit.”
“You are always there, always stealing things from me. Could you not rest? Why in every lifetime do you have to take her away from me?” His voice cracks at the end. Yunho’s brow furrows at his words, confusion mounting. “It is always you, everytime. You always ruin my fun.”
“You’re acting like a child because I willingly exchanged blood with the human?” Yunho scoffs. “You shouldn’t have made it such a pressing issue if you wanted to do it.”
“You…” Wooyoung points his hand at him, slowly dropping it. “Give me a chance this time. Don’t steal her from me again.”
“We’ve just met this woman, Wooyoung,” Yunho says. “She is not anyone else.”
His eyes narrow, “You know what I mean.”
The front door slams loudly. Yunho closes his eyes, knowing his headache will only grow once Hongjoong enters the room. He looks at Wooyoung, blinding slowly. “You can do whatever you want with her, I don’t care. The blood exchange is complete now. You’ll have to find another way to bond with her. Figure it out yourself,” he steps out the way, feeling the wrath of his leader just behind him. Hongjoong gives him a look and he does not bother saying anything else, leaving the room.
The door cracks against the frame as it shuts.
--
It’s been a few days since you’ve heard from the Unseelie. You’ve been on edge all the while, tensing everytime the bell rings against the door. Only your fellow townsfolk have entered your shop now, picking up essentials and other things they need. The talk about Soobin has significantly decreased, much to your surprise. You expected for the talk to continue until the end of time. Or maybe they’re just not saying it to your face this time. You still look at your phone every time it rings, hoping to see an unknown number. You answer every time, waiting for the soft voice of Soobin on the opposite side. Instead it’s mostly robocalls. The sinking feeling has not gone away when it comes to him.
Why would he leave you?
The bell rings, and you barely glance at the door. You turn around to place a book on the shelf, dropping the one you have in your hand. He catches it with two fingers, holding it out to you. Taking a step back, you take it from him.
Wooyoung’s barely a foot in front of you, hands tucked in his pockets. He grins, brows wiggling. “Long time no see, solaris.”
He’s wearing casual clothing quite similar to Seonghwa’s wear. Instinctively, you glance down at his feet. He wears shoes this time. In fact, you’re sure you’ve seen Seonghwa wear the exact same outfit. He catches your eye, slipping from the aisle and standing in the middle of the store.
“You like?” he asks, spinning in a circle quickly. “I dressed Seonghwa in my clothes whenever he visited you. He only had those strange trench coats. Stuck out like a sore thumb.” He does the same, thumb in the air for emphasis.
You place your book on the shelf, not sure what to say to him. “Didn’t expect to see you,” you admit. “I thought Yunho or Seonghwa would come around again.”
“Seonghwa won’t dare enter human owned land again after his brief experience,” Wooyoung says. “He hates it. And Yunho isn’t really permitted to leave our land unless he’s given explicit permission. Me on the other hand,” he tilts his head. “I allow myself to enter whenever and wherever I’d like.”
They seem more restricted than you previously thought, minus Wooyoung. How he’s roaming around while - even as briefly as you’ve met him - Yunho not being able to, is a bit strange. The difference in temperament is noticeable. You saw how Seonghwa physically relaxed while taking blood from Yunho. The friendly giant feels more human-like than Wooyoung ever did.
“Why are you here?” You ask, pushing your cart into the next aisle. “Does Seonghwa need me for something?”
“Can’t I just come and visit you, solaris? Is that such a crazy idea?”
“Crazy no. Weird, yes.” You glance at him, eye twitching when you see his leg resting on the loveseat. “You act like you haven’t been around us in thousands of years. I can’t see why you’d want to hang out in a bookstore when there’s so many places in town to go to.”
“The bookstore is the only place that has the sun,” he shrugs.
“You say even stranger things,” you murmur. “And would you stop calling me that?”
“No,” he says immediately.
All you can do is sigh, continuing to place books on your shelves. Wooyoung interrupts you every now and then, either poking fun at you, or telling you another fact about them. Apparently, they’re the only group of Unseelie in town. Unseelie are rare in the faerie species, most eradicated by Seelie. He states the fact with a bit of a somber look in his eyes.
“There were thousands of us at one point,” he explains. “Then the Great War happened. Years ago, so far beyond your comprehension. So many of us fought to the death to survive. The hatred for each other runs quite deep. Most of the time when we stumble upon each other it ends in death. Now that our numbers have dropped so low - we’re not even sure how many of us are left now. Our species of faerie is dying.”
“Is that why Seonghwa is persistent in finding out why I am the way I am?” You ask, and he nods.
“If humans are developing resistance to our abilities, we will die. And not just Unseelie. Faeries as a whole thrive off of human auras. Having that removed from our societies will be detrimental. Mermaids, Seelie, Cave dwellers, Unseelie - so many of us will be gone. If there is a way to prevent that from happening we would do anything for it. But,” he shrugs. “None of us are majikians. Majik can only take us so far. Even if we find a cure, we’re in a new world. Humans will eventually discover us in masses. There will be a war, that I know of. Then Unseelie will be completely eradicated. We will be nothing.”
He twists his body to look at you. “That is why you are my solaris. My sun. You are capable of bringing us life and prosperity. You are also capable of destroying everything we have ever known. Right now you shine brightly. Let us hope that you continue to.”
“I didn’t know this was so important.” Is all that you say.
“Would you have if I didn’t just tell you?” his brow raises. “I’m not here to convince you either way. You would have to come with me whether you’d prefer it or not. It’s just nice to give you some background,” he gets up from his seat, moving around the shop. “It’s quaint here. Small town places always make me feel warm inside.”
The sudden shift of conversation is something you should get used to around them. “Soobin designed it that way. He’s been wanting this place for a while. It’s his home.”
“Soobin is your partner,” he states. Your back is turned, so you don’t see the shift in his expression. How terrifying it would be to see the ghost of a grin on his lips. “He’s not around anymore.”
You take his statements as questions. “Yeah, he is. Well, was. We had a disagreement and…” You stop in your talking. “You should know already, I’m sure Seonghwa told you about it.”
“He did, I just like hearing you talk. It’s much more soothing than his irritated, quick words everytime he speaks to me,” he murmurs. “Why aren’t you afraid?” he asks after a moment.
“Hm?”
“Before,” he slowly walks up to the opposite side of the counter, sitting on the stool. “You were afraid of me when I showed up. I heard your heart beating against your chest, but it’s silent now,” he raises a brow. “What changed?”
“You said I was in no danger with you,” you say, and he nods, waiting for you to continue. “I didn’t see a reason to continue to be scared, so …”
“That is perfect then,” he smiles, resting his head against his palm. “I’m glad you feel that way. I don’t want you to be afraid of me anymore-” He stops, turning around. This time your heart does rattle against your chest. His teasing is gone, sliding off the chair. The door swings open, bell ringing. You cannot see the door from where you are, the opposite side of the store covered by the wide shelves. Not skipping a beat, Wooyoung turns to you.
“Hide. Now.”
You immediately turn, heading to the back office. Despite how much you want to turn around and look, you don’t. You hear a loud crash, the sound echoing through you. Your back office door is open and you enter, shutting it and locking it behind you. There aren't many places to hide in this room, except for exiting the store through the door. Hearing Wooyoung’s words in your head, it wouldn’t be safe for you to just leave. But there’s people out there. It’s evening. Whatever is here wouldn’t attack out in the open, right? Taking the chance, you swing the door open.
The figure standing there is terrifying enough to make you halt your escape. Its claws grip your throat, pushing you back against the back wall as it enters. Wide, golden streaks dripped down its pale body, several limbs severed and dragging along the floor behind it. Its touch is cold, nails sinking into your skin. You can’t say a word even if you wanted to, fear unlike anything you’ve ever experienced sinking into you. Its mouth opens, rows of jagged teeth lining its jaw, stench horrid.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” it hisses. Its finger slips, ripping your skin even more. You cry, hands gripping the one on your neck. It leans forward. You cannot tell whether it’s looking at you or not, holes where eyes would usually be.
“This is what they were floundering over. This is what the Unseelie are concerned about,” It spat, “Weak just like the other filthy humans.”
Its mouth stretches, the hole large enough to swallow you whole. Tears roll down your cheeks. You feel its spit drip against your forehead. Just as you have accepted your fate, you’re thrown out of the creature’s hand, body slammed against the floors.
“Repulsive.” Yunho holds the creature against the far wall, face twisted in disgust. The look is unfamiliar to you, already used to the warm gaze he shot you. He grips its neck, twisting it harshly to the side. The sound of bone and flesh being torn apart fills the air. It’s enough to make you look away. The distraction is gone, pain increasing rapidly as you look down at your injuries.
“Yunho shouldn’t be here,” Another voice appears. Seonghwa looks around the room, eyes immediately roaming over your figure. “Hell.” His body is soaked in what you can only assume is blood, immediately crouching down over you. “Think you can stand?”
You nod. You rest your hands on either side of your body, muscles straining to lift yourself up. Seonghwa merely sighs, reaching out an arm and pulling you up with ease. You stumble, pressing yourself against his chest. He doesn’t say anything more, lifting you into his arms. Your eyes roam behind him, Yunho’s face unrecognizable as he rips the being apart. Wooyoung must have entered without your knowledge, pulling his friend off the creature.
“Relax Yunho – it’s in ruins now. You don’t have to continue.” He pulls on Yunho’s arm again, this time thrown back against the floor at his attempt. Yunho does not bother turning around, continuing to rip into the thing.
“Fuck off, Wooyoung.”
“Time to get Mingi,” he sighs, glancing back at you. His brows contort in worry, “Oh my solaris, it stole your shine.”
“Get him under control enough, Mingi should be arriving soon,” Seonghwa helps you through the door, easily carrying you. You notice townspeople walking, none bothering to glance your way. Too tired to question it, your body slumps in his arms.
“The Seelie almost tore you apart,” he starts, waiting for a car to pass before crossing the street. “Wooyoung called for us just in time. Ah, your neck,” he winces as he looks at it. He lifts a hand and lightly touches your skin, mumbling words underneath his breath. “That should seal it up enough. We’re almost there.”
Your mind is too clouded with the events to give him a response. He takes it in stride, stepping into the forest. You aren’t sure how long it has taken to get to their home, but you see the familiar woods, trees gathered around the house that sits in between. He says something to another in passing, stepping into the library and shutting the door behind him. Seonghwa places you in a seat.
His hand lightly touches your temple, exhaustion slowly fading away. You blink quickly, glancing around. The room is lined with glass, contents unknown. He turns around to grab a small case, finger dragging across the surface. Inside are several bandages and other first-aid kit items. You want to thank him but your mouth is dry. Only a small wheeze escapes your lips. He glances back at you, wiggling his pointer finger.
“It is a binding spell. No words can escape until I let it be so. The claws of that Seelie dug in deep. If you speak, it may only worsen your condition.”
He rests on one knee, humming to himself. The jar he has in his hand is written in unknown scripture. He picks up the ointment with two fingers, slowly brushing it against your skin. “This is toad puss. Disgusting name and scent, but it will seal your wound much quicker than ordinary human antibiotics. Ah,” he glances behind you. “Took you long enough to arrive.”
You cannot twist your neck, moreso out of fear of tearing your skin. Wooyoung appears beside Seonghwa, glancing over your wounds. “The Seelie almost shredded her. I looked around the bookstore as I cleaned up but there was no sign of any carvings. There’s nothing on her body either. I’m not sure why they came or how they found her. ”
“Us, silly,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. He grabs the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your neck. “One of the Seelie found out that we knew of a human like her. They followed one of us, or both of us, and located where she resides. Though I don’t know for sure if they followed you today and or followed me weeks ago. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Her bookstore is compromised.”
“Then what do we do?” Wooyoung asks, eyes still on yours.
“We talk to Hongjoong.”
You can see how his body deflates immediately. “But –”
“He’ll be furious, yes, but we need to tell him that the Seelie are back. And what steps we take from there. Actually, I think I heard him rummaging around his room. After I get her fixed up, I’ll go speak to him. I’m sure he’s already listening in on our conversation anyway.”
Wooyoung doesn’t say anything else, but you can see how Seonghwa’s words weigh heavy on him. You wish you could speak up for yourself. Your mind is leaning towards yelling at them for putting you in this mess in the first place. Wooyoung leaves without another word, the tap of the door closing behind him.
“What a mess,” Seonghwa sighs. He looks at you, humming again. “You are probably furious right now, aren’t you?”
You nod, and he merely laughs.
"Well you might as well get used to it. No such thing as happy endings for demonic creatures like us. Unfortunately for you, you’re now associated," he rips off the gauze wrapping with his teeth, spitting flyaway pieces to the side. His fingers slowly lift your leg. His touch is soft in comparison to his words, glancing at your face for any signs of discomfort. Not seeing one, he continues. "We Unseelie exist to balance the universe. We are not inherently evil, no. But our mere presence is distasteful, disastrous. We cannot feed without hurting humans, we cannot survive without interfering in your lives. We breathe chaos. It is all we've known and all we'll ever know – oh, did that hurt?" His voice is soft for a brief moment, seeing your brow furrow at his pressure. "Tight?"
You don’t say anything. His eyes widen for a moment, fingers brushing against a sliver of skin peeking out from the bandages on your neck. “Apologies. I was wondering why you remained so quiet.”
Your voice escapes you, quite low. "I’m fine."
He narrows his eyes but continues, much slower this time. You're not sure where this conversation stems from, but you don't dare interrupt. It's the most any of them have spoken to you about their kind. "It's not like a human would understand that it's natural for us. We enjoy killing because it is in our nature. We cannot live without it. It's a shame, really. So many Unseelie have tried to pull away, tried to stop killing. But all attempts have failed. Each one has died in the process. It is like if humans decided to stop feeding on plants and meat and decided to eat air instead. It won't work. It's unsustainable."
"I understand."
He pauses. "No, you don't. Not really."
You clear your throat. "Who are we to tell you what to do? We've considered ourselves the top of the food chain for so long, we can't think of something stronger or faster or wiser than us. What am I to do? Kill off every faerie I see?"
He nods. "That's what many human hunters have done. What many have decided to do over centuries."
"But not me."
His eyes flick between yours, expression unreadable. You don't bother to fill the silence and neither does he, hooking the gauze together with a small metal clip. You think the conversation is over, until he speaks up again.
"You are a strange one. It is of no wonder so many of us admire you."
“What –”
"It is funny what humans think of us,” he interrupts, not allowing you to comment though you desperately want to. “There is no good versus evil. Despite how much we hate the rigidness of the Seelie, they are faeries just like us. But they are not innately good just as we are not innately evil. If the world was that simple, we would have been eradicated long ago," Seonghwa muses. "Us Unseelie value chaos, sacrifice. We fight for our positions when necessary, and enjoy power. Though we all dislike humans, perhaps hate in some cases, we do welcome you. Even if it is temporary. Just because we live in forestry hills does not mean our heads are filled with dirt."
"Do you like me then?"
He grins. "I enjoy you as an experiment if that would make you feel a bit better."
"Ecstatic," you murmur.
"Well you know we cannot lie, so it must give you some reprieve. Unfortunately for us, you can lie," his eyes narrow. "What is your ex-partner's name again? Soobin?"
You say nothing. Allowing him into your head, letting him question you – it is exactly what you should not do when meeting a faerie.
"Ignoring my words?"
"You should know why I am."
He narrows his gaze, "Filthy humans and their silly rules."
"They keep us safe."
"They ruin the fun we have,” he sighs. “I can’t have you back at that bookstore, or your home,” Seonghwa stands, fingers dragging through his hair. “It’s no longer safe for you. You’ll have to stay with us for now.”
You want to debate with him, want to say that you’d rather tough it out and deal with it on your own. But you cannot forget how utterly terrified you were when that Seelie attacked. How you froze. If they weren’t there, you would’ve been long gone by now. Your family would mourn your disappearance, desperate for answers that you wouldn’t have been able to give them. Perhaps wondered if you left with Soobin, wherever he went.
It’s not something you’d ever want.
“Okay.”
He nods. “Okay then.”
He stands, about to leave. "Seonghwa."
He turns around.
"Before, Wooyoung was telling me how you would never enter the human owned land again because you despised it. But you did today. Why is that?"
A strange look crosses his face. "Wooyoung told you such words?"
You nod. "He did."
A breathy laugh follows suit, "That seems like something he would do. I'll set up your temporary room and be back." Seonghwa doesn't say another word, exiting the room. His avoidance of the question only creates more confusion.
-
“You are all making a fuss for a human you don’t even know. Curiosity can only stretch so far. What else are you going to do? Sacrifice yourselves so that she can live? This is more than silly. It’s stupid.”
Hongjoong paces back and forth in the library, Seonghwa flipping through several documents to see if there is any solution to what’s happening now. If he can find some semblance of an answer, perhaps she wouldn’t have to stay at all. But as of now he has found nothing of consequence. Nothing to stop the Seelie from coming after you.
“If the Seelie are after her and want to kill her, then there’s something there. Why give up now?” Seonghwa says, barely looking up from his literature. “It doesn’t have to involve you if you don’t want it to. We can keep her away from this side of the house.”
“That’s not my point and you're more than the wiser to understand that."
“Then what is?”
“You are undermining me,” Hongjoong’s eyes narrow. “You all made me the leader of our spark. And it is my duty to protect us all from harm. Ever since this human has come around, things have been happening. You should have just killed it when you first stumbled across it. And now Yunho is all out of sorts and Mingi has to watch him. Seelie have emerged again. None of this is okay.”
Seonghwa merely rolls his eyes. “We are Unseelie, we’re trained for this.”
Hongjoong stops pacing, shaking his head. “We are very few in number, Seonghwa. We cannot risk our extinction. Not for a useless human. Once the news has spread that you three have killed Seelie, there will be war. There is only so much I can protect us from.”
“We can protect ourselves. And it is too late anyway,” Seonghwa says simply. “We killed the Seelie for a reason.”
“You could have let them kill her and we would have had this problem eradicated.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Hongjoong pauses. He stares at his friend, his mate. Seonghwa does not often express his care. Has not for a while. “Unless you care for it?”
Seonghwa frowns. “Stop suggesting silly things.”
“Say you don’t care for it and I’ll believe you.”
Seonghwa stares at him, desperate for the words to escape him. But his true nature prevents him from doing so. He can only hope that Hongjoong does not push the issue further. He’s already dealt with endless pestering today. He thought he'd at least get a bit of reprieve from Hongjoong. Instead he is only being scowled. It's no wonder he actively avoids his presence every chance he gets.
“Say it, Seonghwa.”
“Haven’t we all irked him enough today?” Yunho enters the room, Wooyoung close behind. Not seeing Mingi hanging around is a bit odd, but neither of them mention it. “Pestering him about this is a mute point. We all have to keep an eye on her for now. Until all of this is settled. Maybe we should pick up the talks tomorrow.”
Seonghwa grabs the book he has in his hand and leaves the room, Hongjoong exiting in the opposite direction. Yunho sighs softly, exhaustion riddling his body. He doesn’t acknowledge Wooyoung trailing behind him, lounging on the long sofa. Said Unseelie paces around his resting figure, picking at the skin by his nails.
“I’m not going to hurt her,” Yunho murmurs, one lid opening to look at his friend. “I’m okay now.”
Wooyoung sits in front of him, head pressed against his thigh. Yunho reaches down, fingers massaging Wooyoung’s scalp. It's a common routine. Anytime he's overwhelmed, Yunho hears the soft tapping of his knuckles against his bedroom door. Most times he needs the comfort of their bodies against one another's, breathes mingled in the low light. But this is one of those rare moments that Yunho isn't able to provide such a comfort. His mind is too consumed with thoughts unlike his own. And Wooyoung seems to know it as well, trembling underneath the scratch of Yunho's nails against his scalp.
He lets out a long breath, looking up at his mate. Yunho's eyes look heavy. Exhausted. “It is not her I am worried about right now, Yunho. I shouldn’t have called you.” Wooyoung starts.
“You only thought of the first person on your mind. It’s alright.”
“It should have been Mingi or Jongho first. We all know how these things affect you and I messed up again. Much, much worse than last time.”
Yunho's fingers pause in combing his hair. A horrid reminder. He swallows slowly, pushing those thoughts away.
“Wooyoung,” Yunho shakes his head. “You can’t continue to blame yourself. The past is the past.”
He closes his eyes, lower lip trembling. “You could have lost yourself completely. Yunho, Mingi had to injure you to stop you. I should know what to do when you’re like that, I should be able to stop you–”
"Your presence was enough."
He shakes his head. "The Seelie was barely recognizable. It was a pile of mashed flesh –"
“Hey, stop,” he pulls his fingers from his hair, resting on the bottom of his chin. His strength is barely used as he tilts his head up to look at him. “I’m fine. We’re fine. I can’t tell you to stop thinking about it because I know you and I know you will, but I’m okay, Woo. I’m fine. Please don't let those thoughts burden you. You could not pull me out of it, but it's not your fault. I listened to your call. I decided to come. I could have told one of the others first. It was my choice.”
"Yun…"
"Mmm," He lets go of his chin, arms opening. Wooyoung wastes no time in sinking into his embrace, chest rising and falling calmly. "I'm okay."
“Are you sure?” His voice is softer this time. His fingers dig deeply into the fabric of his blouse. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Unseelie can’t lie.”
Wooyoung narrows his eyes, Yunho’s warm laugh echoing around the room. “Fine. I am okay, and I’m not lying to you.”
"Promise?" He's persistent, hands cupping Yunho's face. "Promise me?"
"I promise, pretty faerie."
Wooyoung hides himself in the sleeve of Yunho’s shirt. "You're trying to distract me."
"It seems to be working," Yunho teases.
They enjoy each other's silence, Wooyoung lifting his head up again. "I'm sorry for before. For getting angry at you like that. I just let my feelings overtake me and blew up. I'm sorry."
"Already forgiven."
"You shouldn't, though. I hurt you," Wooyoung's eyes roam Yunho's neck. Though he has already healed, the puncture marks of his claws are still scars against his skin. Wooyoung leans up, pressing his lips lightly against the risen skin, Yunho's body trembling beneath the touch. "I hurt you."
"You can't help it."
"But I didn't try to stop myself."
"The human brings out the worst in us, it seems."
Wooyoung laughs, the sound not at all reaching his eyes. He ponders for a moment. "I like her."
Yunho takes his words with hesitance. It's been very apparent since he's seen you that Wooyoung has grown a soft spot for you. Though he can't quite understand how it happened so quickly. The Unseelie has barely spent more than a day with you. "I know."
"I want her to like me too."
"Good luck with that."
He frowns. "She will like me, Yunho."
"I know. You're too easy to like, Wooyoung. She will eventually feel the same as you."
"You think?" he gives Yunho a toothy grin.
"I know."
—
You sit on the porch, staring out into the night. The breeze is quieter than before, whistling through the branches and leaves. The throbbing pain in your neck has subsided greatly. You can only thank Seonghwa silently, fingers brushing against the gauze tight on your neck. You can still see the way that Seelie looked at you, the ferocity in its eyes. How easily it could have snapped you in half if it truly wanted to. Have you brought this all upon yourself? Letting Seonghwa creep into your life? Was the loneliness too much to bear that you've attached yourself to the next person who was a bit kinder to you? You rub your eyes, chest rising and falling slowly.
"Pathetic," you mumble, tucking your knees close to your chest. Your desperation for a reason why Soobin left you alone led you here. Stuck in a house filled with mythical beings. None of which care for you. You should have just gone home once he disappeared. Maybe then you wouldn't be stuck here. The stinging feeling in your throat burns. You hold it back. You can't cry. Not here. Not around them.
"Thoughts fogging your mind so deeply that you didn't hear me knock?"
You look up, Wooyoung's head peeking out from the overhang on the porch. His hair is wild, flowing in the breeze. He takes your non answer as acceptance of his presence, dropping down from the roof to sit on the railing. He tilts his head as he stares down at you. "You look upset."
"I'm stuck in a place I don't know with people I don't know because creatures I don't know are attacking me for a reason I don't know. So yes, maybe I'm just a little upset about my circumstances."
"You do know why they attacked you," he points out. "They want you dead."
"Reassuring," you give him a half smile. "Thanks for that."
"I'm… I'm not trying to get on your bad side, solaris. I'm trying to make you like me. I want you to be comfortable around me."
"You shouldn't care how I feel about you, Wooyoung. You've already done your job luring me here. Now leave me alone."
His lips frown, sighing softly. "What else can I do to help?"
"Is it not enough that you've trapped me here? I would thank you for saving my life, but you all are the reason those things came after me. I would have lived normally without your meddling. Seonghwa should have…" He should have killed you and gotten it over with.
"You don't mean that." He looks at you with such a pitiful, worried look that for a moment, you believe in his concern. Believe that he actually is upset for you. But you know it's not at all true. You know it's another ploy to make you feel comforted by him, by them. And you're not foolish, no. Unseelie do not care for humans.
They never will.
"I do."
"Solaris–"
"And call me by my name, Wooyoung." You slowly stand up, ignoring his hand reaching out to steady you. "Now goodnight." You slowly limp towards the French doors, shutting them behind you. You stare into his eyes as you turn the lock, shutting the curtains.
#fic: wonderwall#wooyoung x reader#yunho x reader#seonghwa x reader#ateez x reader#briefly:#jongho x reader#hongjoong x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez angst#ateez fluff
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Hozier Drabble Challenge Masterlist
Howdy folks!
Welcome to the Hozier Drabble Challenge. Each writer was given a song and a pedro boy and challenged to write a drabble based on that. Please heed the warnings on each fic! Happy Reading!
Main Masterlist | Fanfic Events | AO3 | Kofi
Hozier
The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To by @freelancearsonist - Joel
In a Week by sweetercalypso - Marcus Pike
Sedated by @luxurychristmaspudding - Dave
Cherry Wine by @julesonrecord - Whiskey
It Will Come Back by beskarandblasters - Max Phillips
Foreigner's God by kewwrites - Dave
Work Song by @eupheme - Dave
Like Real People Do by fhatbhabie - Frankie
Wasteland, Baby
Talk Refined by @ohforficsake - Ezra
Sunlight by @lotusbxtch
Nina Cried Power
Moment's Silence by sp00kymulderr - Oberyn
From Eden
From Eden by planet-marz1 - Dieter
Unreal, Unearth
Butchered Tongue by blind-assassin-12 - Din
Given a Name by @missredherring - Oberyn
De Selby Part 1 by beardedjoel - Frankie
Eat Your Young by jksprincess10 - Marcus Moreno
Damage Gets Done by burntheedges - Max Phillips
Unheard
Too Sweet by missredherring - Din
Fare Well by @nerdieforpedro - Dieter
#joel miller fics#fic recs#hozier drabble challenge#marcus pike fics#dave york fics#jack daniels fics#max phillips fics#Ezra fics#ezra (prospect) fics#oberyn martell fics#dieter bravo fics#marcus moreno fics#frankie morales fics#din djarin fics#the mandalorian fics#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfiction#ppcu fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction
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Of Light and Darkness: The Rising Darkness pt.4
Pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi X Reader
WARNINGS!: (IF YOU ARE NOT IN A GOOD PLACE MENTALLY DO NOT READ THIS PART!!!!!!!!) ANGST!!! Depictions of induced (reference Sith induced horror and mind shards) PTSD flashbacks, death, injury, near death, threatened death, battle scenes, blood, pain, regret, longing, anger, self loathing, foul language, SNAKES!.... Yeah if I missed anything let me know. Needless to say not light reading.... (Why'd it have to be snakes!)
note: if Italic indicates mental telepathy etc.
A/N: I take no credit for the movie dialogue that is all the work of the wonderful Mr. Lucas!!!! THIS IS A LOVING WORK OF FANFICTION!!! With that said I did take more than a few liberties but I tried to pull from the film and meld it into a cohesive piece. Much love to all the prequels and the folks there in!
Ok folks I will fully admit this one has been taking quite a while to cook because well... It took a hell of a lot out of me to do this one. I wanted it done just so and I didn't want to let it out to the tumblr verse otherwise. AGAIN please heed the warnings!!!!
Yes our reader is a badass (Her master is Mace frickin' Windu!) but even she ain't enough to take on a Sith. I also will reiterate that I believe that there are limitations to all force abilities.
If you have never seen Sir Christopher Lee fence in other films (actual swordsman really!) go watch some of his other works, they are amazing! I referenced the 1970's four musketeers specifically for the fight here, lot of fencing terms are used.
Picture/ GIF Credit: @92-guy, @supererick911, Lucasfilm & Pinterest
Words: 8456... (Holy moly!)
Masterlist Next
Dooku had always favored games of strategy as a child. Dejarik, Nexu and Hounds, Weiduk were all child's play compared to his game board now. It had been a long strategy, years of moving all of his pieces into play and now... now was the time to finally begin his endgame. Every forfeit and feign leading to this point.
“Senator Amidala won't you have a seat.”
Dooku observed as the Geonosian guards brought the young Senator and her companion roughly to the table. He restrained his annoyance at their... crude method of capture. Fortunately Fett had stepped in and salvaged the situation. Viceroy Gunray may want the woman dead, but she still held value. Killing was often the simplest answer to a problem, but it may not yet be the correct one. Patience often yielding the better option in any given situation. Given the difficulty of her capture he could see why she was a useful thorn in his Master's side.
Padme stared dispassionately at the Count, “I am here to discuss the Jedi Knights in your custody. If they are released immediately I am willing to overlook the assault of myself and Jedi Skywalker.”
“I'm not.” Anakin muttered under his breath.
“I'm afraid that I cannot allow that. You see Masters Kenobi and L/n have been convicted of espionage and sentenced to execution.” Dooku watched the young woman's face turn pale, her young protector closing rank behind her. The boy held his temper, but Dooku could feel it simmer just below the surface.
How very interesting...
“They're representatives of the Republic on an investigatory mission. You of all people should recognize that.” Padme gripped into the arms of the chair to ground her emotions. The Count pursed his lips and tilted his head sympathetically, but there was no honesty to the gesture.
“We do not recognize the Republic here, but if Naboo were to join our alliance,” Dooku's lips turned up in a kind façade, “I would gladly hear your petition for clemency.”
“And sacrifice my peoples rights to your charlatan council, I think not.” Padme's voice dripped venom, well remembering the causalities of the Trade Federation Blockade. “This anarchy must end Count, release the Jedi and I will see to it that you have appropriate representation when you are brought to trial.”
“A very kind offer Senator Amidala, but not one I think that you will be able to deliver on,” Dooku laughed in his chest. The girl still thought she could win, how quaint. Ah to have that youth and the ideals that once came with it. Dooku knew the true power and way of the galaxy that only came with age, it was a shame that this young woman would not live long enough to see for herself. “I'm afraid that given your own activities here, you and your Jedi compatriot have been found guilty of the same charges. I'm so very sorry my dear.”
Jango watched as the prisoners were led away, a dark feeling settling over him. The Jedi welp wouldn't have come on his own and that meant that there would be more on the way. Starting a war was a messy business, fighting one was not in the contract. Keeping a casual air he moved to speak with Tyranus. “I've been contacted about a bounty near Concord Dawn. I should leave within the hour, if I'm finished here that is.”
Dooku glanced at the hunter, feeling the unease in him though he hid it quite well. Fett would never be foolish enough to defy him, but he was just smart enough to see the likely trouble coming. Smiling at the man he rose, walking towards the hallway. It would be easy enough to let the hunter go about his business, but if Fett was uneasy then it was all the more reason to keep him close. “Of course my friend, I would never want to interfere in your dealings. I had hoped that you would join us for the execution, after all Boba seemed very excited when the entertainment was being brought in earlier. But if you must go...”
“It would be rude not to accept,” Jango kept his tone light, uncaring. He could see the man was testing him. He was a cagey one Tyranus, but not the first that Jango had delt with. Raising an amused brow at the older man he gave a half smirk, “Wouldn't want to disappoint the boy.”
Dooku smiled back, “Of course not.”
Of all the ways that you thought that you would die a gladiator arena hadn't even made the top ten. Your personal hope had been a clean death, nice and quick. Or maybe in your sleep. But as the chariot carrying you and Obi Wan approached the columns, seeing the deep tooth and claw gashes, cold dread washed over you. Dying wasn't frightening to you, but the thought of seeing Obi Wan suffer because of your failure... it was your very worst nightmare. Grasping at straws you fell back to dark humor, “Well at least the sun's shining.”
“A better show for our hosts I imagine,” Obi Wan gazed at you, sarcastic smile quirking up.
You snorted, “Glad to see you're optimistic at least.”
Obi Wan knew that tone, the resigned look. He had long prayed to not see it again, yet he too knew the grim reality of their situation. If by some miracle Anakin had sent the message on, a rescue may not reach the two of you in time. If escape were to happen it would be on their own skill to do so. “Just remember the plan and stay close, together or not at all wee one.”
“First round at Maffa's is on me.” Shaking your head and taking a deep breath you tried to smile.
“This day is not our end Y/n, I promise.”
As the guards finished securing your hands to the post you couldn't help the bitter tone of your reply, “Don't make promises you can't keep.”
------
The ship had dropped the rescue team as close as possible without being detected. It had taken considerable patience and negotiation to keep the civilian crew from joining the Jedi, one in particular had tested Mace's will. He had finally pulled Yalvaberg to the side, explaining that if the situation turned truly south that he was relying on her and the others to get them out quickly.
The girl had argued, yelled, begged to go. In the end Mace had asked her what you would do. It was a testament really, the loyalty and care of the gathered rag tag group. Glitch had handed him a comm and then squeezed his hand around it tightly, bidding her gods to guide them. Her last words to him and the others echoed in his ears even in the catacomb halls.
“Victory or Valhalla.”
Anakin's emotions swirled about him like a raging torrent. Despair, anger, hopelessness, and disappointment kept barely contained. He had failed his mother, he had failed his Masters, and now he was about to fail the woman he loved. It wouldn't even matter that she could not love him back, but that they would die together because he couldn't follow a simple order.
He felt so kriffing useless.
Anakin tried to find the calm within as you had taught him, to make peace with himself on the walk to the staging area. As Master Obi Wan often reminded him, in failure there is opportunity and from opportunity victory can yet be achieved.
“I'm sorry Anakin, I should have listened to you.” Padme swallowed as the guilt rose. Her hubris had led to this, thinking that these demagogues could be reasoned with.
“You have nothing to be sorry for Padme.”
“Yes I do,” She pursed her lips desperately trying to find the words.
Anakin glanced at her drawn face, finding the focus that he so needed. He would get Padme to safety even if it killed him. Putting on a confident face he tried to give her a reassuring look. “Don't be afraid.”
“Oh Anakin... I'm not afraid to die.” Padme shook her head with a somber grimace. “I've been dying a little every day since you came back into my life.”
Anakin winced, “What are you saying?”
She couldn't lie any longer, not to him and not to herself. If one could not be truthful in the face of death then how could they hope to see the other side of creation. Padme looked into those blue eyes, begging forgiveness for the deceit. “I love you.”
“You love me?” It was as if the whole of the Force had calmed his turmoil at her words. Anakin wanted to whoop and crush her to himself, but the shackles not withstanding he was still hesitant. He could feel the roll of her emotions within and as badly as he wished to believe Padme, Anakin remembered the bitter sting of her words from a few nights before. “I thought we decided not to fall in love. That we would be forced to live a lie... That it would destroy us.”
“Our lives are about to be destroyed anyway.” Turning as best the restrains would allow, Padme let go of her control. Tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her voice trembled, “I know how I feel for you. As much as my mind begs me to stop, my heart won't obey. The moment that I saw you again I felt whole, not knowing that I was incomplete.”
“Padme I...” Anakin tried to reach for her, to reassure and comfort. He cursed and struggled against the chains.
“Ani please,” pressing her shoulder to his, Padme huffed a breath out, “I cannot control this love for you and I don't wish to anymore. I truly, deeply love you Anakin Skywalker.”
Anakin moved, desperately stretching to finally kiss her. Unable to do more than give the lightest pressure, he tried to put every bit of what he felt into the gentle melding. For once he dropped his own walls, wanting to feel more than just this sweet affection. The dazzling way her signature flickered as they kissed, the heat that rose in her cheeks. If Anakin could freeze time he would have this moment last forever.
It was a bittersweet kiss of love and regret, of time squandered. Maker he wished that she had simply told him the truth before now. He wanted to be upset with her, but the salt of her tears easily swept that away. Anakin would move the orbits of the stars to never see Padme cry again. Feeling the stutter in her breathing he tried to find the words to say. “My heart has always been yours my angel. When we get out of this...”
“Anakin.”
“WHEN we get out of this I will show you just how much I love you.” He kissed her again before she could speak. He wished he could stop the wheels of the chariot, to beg the galaxy a few moments more. Their lips parting as the vehicle exited the portal, Anakin's resolve was firm. The two of them would survive this. Padme loved him and he would not lose her now.
Not today nor any other.
Obi Wan shouldn't have been surprised to see his wayward Padawan, he shouldn't be surprised to see the Senator with him. None of that kept his temper from flaring the minute the two were transferred from the chariot and chained to the posts with the two of you. “I was beginning to wonder if you gotten our message.”
“We re transmitted it just like you asked,” Anakin replied with a forced an easy tone, “Then we came to rescue you two.”
Obi Wan glanced at the shackles on all four posts then back to Anakin, “Good job.”
“Padme, what happened?” Glancing to the younger woman you saw her face fall and felt a coldness within Anakin. “She's gone isn't she.”
“Now's not the time wee one, focus.” He narrowed his eyes at the far portal. “I do believe that the executioners have arrived.”
“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Anakin's stomach dropped.
The karks had chosen well. You watched as the Acklay, Nexu and Reek started stalking towards the posts. There was also movement below the sand, something causing a wavy movement in the grains. Whatever it was headed towards your post, hidden below the surface. “Yeah no kidding.”
“Just relax, concentrate.” Obi Wan bit out, surveying the area, “Try to get yourself free.”
Closing your eyes to focus on the shackle lock the danger crept ever near. The cuffs loosened finally, just enough that you could squeeze one hand out. Glancing at Padme you saw her already climbing the post. Copying the strategy you began your ascent when the pillar shook, almost knocking you to the ground.
Glancing down you saw as the triangular head of the creature emerged from the sands. Green and orange scales shimmering as the fans and spines on its back sprang out, serpentine figure rising to a staggering height. Using the Force you pulled yourself up the pole glancing down at the beast. “What in the ever loving kark?!”
“Stay away from it!” Padme screamed as she hit the pouncing Nexu with the chain again. “A Rawl, very dangerous.”
“No kidding,” you snarked back. Free of the last cuff you searched through your robes. The dagger wasn't very large but it was better than nothing. If you made it out of this you would owe the Hunter a great favor. Taking a swing you cut at the serpents nose as it came close to strike. Laughable attempt really, the creature could have used it as a toothpick after consuming you.
Gunray and the others were distracted by the spectacle as was Boba, who practically leaned over the parapet of the box for a better view. Jango had told the boy to be on the alert, his sense of unease was building. Dooku was chatting with his council as though this were a speeder race and not four beings fighting for their lives. The prisoners were doing well actually, Jango had to give credit to them. Sparing a glance in your direction he saw the concentrated look and then a faint smile.
Obi Wan was still trying to deal with the Acklay, his attempt at spearing the creature only resulted in angering it further. Anakin was having better luck with the Reek and the Nexu was now neutralized. Two down but where were you? Then he heard it, the joyous cheering in the crowd and Anakin's pain ripping through the Force. Glancing up he saw just as your boot disappeared down the serpent's maw. “No!”
Anakin charged with the reek crushing the Acklay and retrieving Obi Wan. Then the Rawl slithered towards all of them. Padme held onto him tightly as the creature reared up readying to strike again. Anakin squeezed her arm, “Don't look angel.”
But the creature stopped. Pausing mid slither, beginning to writhe.
Hacking and sputtering unable to draw breath the beast let out a series of angry hisses. Shaking its head and straightening up before a large wound began bursting from just below it's neck. It fell dead to the ground as the wound got larger, blood and viscera spilling on the sand. Then a hand poked out.
“Uh, Obi Boy if you aren't too busy out there... A LITTLE HELP!”
“Wee One!” Jumping down, Obi Wan reached through the mess to pull you up. Hugging you to his chest in relief he wanted to yell at you for scaring five years off his life. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today, because you are absolutely resplendent.”
Glancing at the approaching destroyer droids you gave him a quick hug back. “Later sweet man, escape first.”
Dooku felt the stirring in the Force before he heard the lightsaber ignite. Turning he was not at all surprised to see the glaring Head of the Jedi Counci. “Master Windu, how pleasant of you to join us.”
Jango glowered at the Jetii. He knew he should have left when he had the chance. Waiving at his son, Jango didn't want him getting mix in this. “Udesii Boba, Pare!”
Mace narrowed his eyes at the former Jedi. An enemy who had tried to kill his Padawan and grand Padawan. The righteous need to see the man brought to justice nearly clouding his better judgment. Still the disdain rolled through him and took hold in his voice, “This party's over.”
Multiple Jedi began to emerge around the arena, moving quickly to the four prisoners aid. Dooku grinned, how very noble... and predictable. Subtle amusement showed in his tone, “Brave, but futile my old Jedi friend. You're impossibly outnumbered.”
Mace heard the clanking of the droids coming. Glaring at his former college, pure venom in his words, “We'll see about that.”
Jango set loose his flamethrower just as the droids had the Knight distracted. He fell over the parapet but landed on his feet. Another appeared trying to cut down Tyranus, a few shots took care of that one well enough. His boss nodded thanks as Jango reholstered his blaster. Turning to his son he pulled the boy into the vom, “Boba get down to the ship and get ready for take off. Stay hidden and stay away from the fight.”
“But Dad!”
“No buts son, now go.” The boy ran down the corridor, pausing to look back at him. “Go on Boba, I'll be there shortly.”
The arena blurred as the Jedi charged to meet the droid army. You lose sight of Obi Wan and Anakin. The Geonosians bring in sonic cannons blasting indiscriminately, bodies and debris flying everywhere. All around there was pain and death rippling in the Force. No time to think, only to act. Your temper rose unbridled at the suffering surrounding you. Anger boiling over for the Knights and Padawans dying and injured.
Anger at Dooku for his betrayal.
Most of all anger at yourself.
For being too weak, for getting caught...
Reaching out to lift the crumbled column pieces and you began to fling them at the droids. No where to run, no where to hide for either side. Over and over, block after block you crush your opponents. “Come on you pieces of mechanical crap!”
You loosing the rocks across the floor of the arena, bringing others up to help deflect bolts meant for you and your comrades. Shots whiz past your head and you know at some point you will be hit. But there's just no time to be afraid and you are well acquainted with pain already. A steady presence in the Force draws near, like a warm blanket in the cold of a storm, calm and anchoring.
“Young Y/n.” The familiar modulated voice of Master Plo Koon floats through the air. The old Kel Doran stood beside you, surveying at the battle and he starts to direct your shots. “Aim for those cannons.”
Giving a nod you close your eyes in concentration, willing the Force to raise the largest of the pieces to the air. You channel everything you have into rocketing the marble chunk into the weapon. It explodes in fantastic fashion and you raise another to careen into one of the portal entries, blocking it so more droids cannot enter there.
“Well done,” Plo continues to deflect bolts as you work at the stone. The older Jedi knows though that their small group is being herded to a kill zone. He has fought many wars, knows that their position is untenable. “We need to evacuate.”
“Wounded to the middle, form up!” You cried out above the din. Looking around you feel your heart clench. So many dead Jedi, so many wounded, and for what? You had all fallen into Dooku's trap.
You looked to the senior Jedi around you, “What do we do?”
The booming voice of the Count echoed through the arena, “You have fought valiantly Masters, worthy of recognition in the Historical Archives...”
This was all your fault... this was all your fault... if you hadn't been caught!
The guilt races through you like a raging river to swallow you whole. But a hand gently grips your shoulder, one that has never really left you. Glancing up to Master Windu you can see that even in the face of disaster he will never yield. No, even if it were only him left, Master Windu would never cede the field of battle to the enemy. He squeezed and a calm settled over you once more and that very first lesson ran through your mind, “Not Today.”
“...But now it is finished. Surrender and your lives will be spared.” Dooku looked down imperiously upon the rabble below. They were foolish and idealistic as he had once been, never seeing the true power at work. Still they would serve their purpose in the grander plan, for the future his Master so desired. An offered sacrifice for the grander glory of the galaxy.
Order from chaos.
“We will not be hostages for you to barter Dooku!” Mace kept his temper and emotions barely in check. Glancing to the sky he prayed that the signal had worked. Just a few minutes more.
“Then I'm sorry old friend.” Dooku raised his hand ready to give the order to fire.
“I love you Obi Wan.” Closing your eyes you reached your signature to his, holding tight. You glanced at your apprentice, “Anakin it has been my honor to be your Master.”
Obi Wan glanced to you, readying for the fight. “I love you Y/n.”
Just as you were sure that the droids would start to fire there was a rumble through the air.
Padme glanced up, “LOOK!”
“Listen you armored pain in the ass, I don't give a Kark! Just get us down there and stay outta my way!” Glitch's temper reigned. She would not lose you or the other two space wizards that had become as close as family. She'd fight and die if it was called for. “And give me that thing, you'll hurt yourself.”
Deek saw the girl take hold of the Z-6 as if it weren't twice her size and could knock her square to the ground. “Damn it Glitch our objective is the wounded! Stick to the Maker damned plan!”
“Fine!” Glitch held fast to the cannon, “Oiy bucket brigade, make sure we got all the wounded on board before we lift.”
“Maker Kriffing Damn it to Hell Glitch!” If Deek wasn't flying the bird he'd kick her ass.
The troopers were also less than pleased by the woman's antics, “Ma'am it would be better...”
“Kark better!” The ship made a sharp descent and the mad woman gave a sheik. “The gods smile and fly with us today. Now get those wounded aboard and let a Valkar fight.”
The gunships began to circle around the Jedi as the droids began their assault again. You could hear a faint familiar tune and saw the nose art on the little bird as it came around. Looking over at Master Windu your face was incredulous, “You didn't?!”
He shrugged, “They insisted.”
Shaking your head you could hear the high pitched cackle above the din, “Glitch?!”
Mace shook his head as the two of you worked in tandem to block more shots from the droids. “She was quite insistent.”
On another transport Master Yoda directed the inbound craft. He had seen many battles but this, this was murder most cruel. His own apprentice, a boy he had taught and mentored, had caused such destruction. And now it fell to this weary Master to set things to right. First by recovering his knights. “Around the survivors a perimeter create.”
The old Jedi would give these clones credit, they were fine soldiers. The gunners coordinating their fire to take out whole swathes of battle droids. Upon landing the troopers instantly took up positions so that the Jedi could quickly evacuate. Yoda's heart broke at the sight of so few left.
The troopers started to grab the wounded from the arena floor, able bodied Jedi also moving to cover them. A cry familiar and haunting rose through the air sending a chill down your spine. Glitch had let loose such cry on one other occasion, on Norte. She gave it now as you watched her blast into the droids with her rifle. A bone chilling and ancient sound, the cry to war for her people. You shook yourself and organized the wounded onto the craft. “Deek get the wounded out of here!”
“Not without you and Glitch!” The old pilot's face was anguished at the thought of not taking you back. He had made that mistake once and dank ferrik he would not do it again! His heart couldn't bear the thought.
You felt the fear within him. You'd had this conversation many many times. At the end of the day, the needs of the many outweighed anything else. Looking at him softly, knowing that you needed to be strong for your friend, you gave the slightest push with the Force. “We'll get another one. I'll meet you on the flight deck old man.”
“Good Hunting.” There were tears in the old pilot's eyes as he lifted off. He knew you were right, that the troopers and the wounded Jedi on this craft needed him to fly. Deek prayed to whoever was listening, “Please not again, please bring them back.”
There was little time left and none for hesitation. Running across the sand you grabbed Glitch by the scruff of the neck, “MOVE IT YALVABEG! ASSHOLES AND ELBOWS, WE ARE LEAVING!”
Glitch turned to you with a smirk even as she surveyed the area one last time. “Boss you never let me have any fun!”
“Kid I swear I'm gonna refer you to psych again!” Both of you dove into the last transport with Masters' Yoda and Windu. The LA-AT was no little bird, rising so quickly you could feel the fillings in your teeth being pulled by the G forces.
Glitch did a double take looking a the small green being next to her. “Oh, hello again little boss!”
You chuckled to the unamused, bewildered looks from Masters Mundi and Plo. “Glitch focus, need you on the door gun.”
"Yeah yeah yeah. So bossy!" The young woman stuck her tongue out at you even as she took up the position, “You know you're getting boring in your old age.”
“Smartass!” You gave her a playful kick as the ship made another sharp turn and began taking fire. “Shit, hold on!”
“If Dooku escapes, rally more systems to his cause he will.” Master Yoda accidentally clacked his staff on Glitch's foot startling her. “Apologies young one.”
“Not at all Sir.” Glitch couldn't help to like this little fellow, he was calm and confident in command. Wise and not arrogant, reminded her of someone very dear. “You have a mighty heart little Master, Gods be at your side.”
“My ally is the Force, but all assistance will we accept.”
“Where will Dooku go?” Glancing to your own master, “How do we hunt him to ground?”
“I have a feeling that our adversary will make his presence known in time.” Mace gazed upon the battle in progress around them, control of the ground needed to be reestablished if there was to be any hope of victory. “Pilot land at that forward assembly area. Y/n, stay with Master Yoda and track down Dooku.”
Ships were being blasted out of the sky around you and though you could feel Obi Wan and Anakin you weren't sure where they had gone. Looking at your Master, you gave a quick nod. “Yes Sir.”
“Holy Shit! The boss lady listens to somebody?” Glitch winked at Master Yoda, who gave a restrained laugh of his own.
“Pot and Kettle,” Rolling your eyes the LA-AT as it took off for the forward observation post. Upon arrival there was a static transmission from one of the other ships, Dooku had been spotted and they were in pursuit. Commandeering a speeder, you prayed the Force you were fast enough. “Glitch, stay with Master Yoda.”
“No, I'm going with you! We just saved your ass no way are you...”
“Damn it Glitch,” Glaring at the girl you clutched her shoulders in frustration, “I cannot lose any more of them or you.”
Glitch had tears in her eyes silently begging you to take her too.
“Protect them for me, please.” Pleading with the young woman, you needed her safe.
“Y/n, don't.” Glitch so rarely called you by name, always Boss. Some part of her wanted to keep you all at a distance, didn't want that pain again if she lost another friend. But that would be a disrespect to all you had done and how close you'd grown. “I can help, please!”
“You are Tyra,” tucking a stray hair behind her ear, you climbed on the speeder bike. “Listen to Master Yoda as you would me. It'll be alright.”
Yoda watched as you departed, coming to take Glitches hand, “Come my young friend, your wisdom and strength do I require.”
“I doubt there's anything that I have to offer you sir.” Glitch laughed bitterly.
Yoda hummed, “A different foe have I for you, one of greater importance. Come.”
“I don't care, land the ship!” Anakin's mind screamed at the sight of Padme laying motionless on the sand.
“Anakin I need you, come to your senses!” Obi Wan pleaded with the boy. Stars knew he understood better than anyone, seeing the woman he loved injured and thought killed. He knew the gut churning pain, but he also knew his duty. That as badly as it hurt there was a job to do. “What would Padme do were she in your place? What would Y/n do if it were us?”
Anakin searched the Force for his angel, she was alive. Maker he wanted nothing more than to go to her but as Obi Wan's questions sank in he also knew that answer. As hard as the truth was, as harsh as the situation was he would not make the same mistake twice in a day. Scrunching his face in frustration and anguish he looked to Master Obi Wan.
“They would do their duty,” Taking a deep breath Anakin tried to focus, “I'm sorry Master...”
“It's alright, calm yourself.” Obi Wan reached over to squeeze the boy's shoulder. “When this is over I owe you a long talk and a strong cup of tea.”
The craft dropped them on the landing platform, exploding almost immediately as it pulled away. Anakin's eyes went wide as yet three more lives flickered and faded into the greater Force. Why must death be so cruel, why? But there was no time to contemplate such things as he and Master Obi Wan ran into the cavern.
Malevolence enveloped them almost immediately, the air growing thicker the closer they drew. Dooku stood at the controller with his back turned, uncaring that he was trapped with the two Jedi. Anger and grief rolled through Anakin once more, his tone graveled and angry, “You're going to pay for all the Jedi you killed to day.”
Dooku turned slowly to regard the welp, scrawny and overconfident. All the arrogance to befit the grand Padawan of Windu and Dalincort. He gave the two a sickening smile, “And I presume that you have claimed the honor of bringing me to justice... youngling.”
“We'll take him together,” Obi Wan could see that Dooku was attempting to draw Anakin into the fight alone, “You go around...”
Anakin saw the sneer on the old man's face, remembered how he watched as the Jedi were slaughtered in the arena. Then the bastard started to laugh, LAUGH!
Anakin was done being patient. “I'll take him NOW!”
You could hear fighting the minute the speeder landed on the pad. The very air hung heavy; darkness, pain, anger... Hate. Running as though the hounds of perdition were upon you, stomach dropping to your boots. Obi Wan was sprawled on the floor in pain, Dooku had wounded him. Anakin was battling the old saber master, but it was obvious that the Count was toying with the young man. Blocking and parrying several over powered strikes Dooku made his move, turning and efficiently amputated Anakin's arm.
“NO!!!” you screamed.
Dooku grinned, extending his hand to fling the foolish boy across the room. The boy landed at Kenobi's feet with a pained whimper. He would have relished in the sight of his victory more if it weren't for several rocks that came flying at him. Deflecting them away with a brush of his hand, Dooku finally acknowledged your presence. “I see that Windu send his little pet after me.”
“Get. Away. From. My. FAMILY!” Biting out the words you couldn't care to cover the fury in your voice. Extending your arm you pulled the injured men closer to the entrance. The air practically crackled around you, pebbles floated and clattered from your rage.
He had injured Obi Wan....
he had cut off Anakin's arm...
he had killed so many good Jedi today...
“Young y/n, perhaps it's time for another lesson?” Dooku taunted you, tutting under his breath with a sly grin. “Then again you always were a poor student.”
There was a moment where Anakin looked up and he didn't recognize the woman striding across the room. Logically he could see that it was you, but it was as though your body had been possessed by a foreign spirit. A cold dead look of fury... it was terrifying. “Master?”
“Y/n,” Obi Wan tried to reach out to you but your walls were firmly in place. A shot of dread ran through him, bile rising. He had not been present when you had killed the Neimoidian, but he well remembered the fight against the cartel on Talenza. That same detached look, clinical almost if not for the anger in your eyes. Merciful light protect you, “Wee one...”
“I will not let you kill another Jedi today Dooku.” Without turning, moving only to raise your hand catching the saber hilt as it rocketed into your grip from the floor, you glared down the former Master. These feelings within were beyond anger or disgust or sorrow. When you looked at the man you felt nothing, seeing only the shadow of evil that was trying to destroy all around you. A cancer that needed to be excised. Raising your blade you coolly addressed the debauched soul, “Surrender old man.”
“We both know that I won't come willingly.” Dooku threw your own words at you. He couldn't help to admire the tenacity, foolish as it was, “You're outmatched girl.”
Your feet shifted to a starting position, “I have all that I require.”
“So very naïve,” Dooku gazed haughtily at you. “It appears then that this lesson is over due.”
You didn't reply, twirling the blade raising it to ready. There was no urgency in your step, nor stiffness to your body. Slowly entering the enemy's domain, closing space and circling. The air crackled around the room as Dooku extended his blade, red as the blood that stained his hands.
He feigned, beating the edge of his blade against yours trying to provoke you to action.
Tilting your head you slid the edge of the beam along causing sparks, giving a beat in return.
Force for force, blade on blade.
Dooku made the first move sweeping up then countering low. You didn't try for anything fancy simply deflecting and redirecting the move. Again, he thrust the edge of his saber, only for you to twist and block the move. He kept baiting and prodding, yet you would not do more than defend and take more ground. “Come now girl, certainly you can do better. Surely you wish to destroy me for what I've done. You'd like that wouldn't you?”
Another hard blow coming down from above as you felt him probing your mental barriers. Your walls were beginning to fray, and you could feel the cold clutches trying to wreak havoc on your mind. Blocking his saber again you gave a great push with the Force to throw the man across the floor.
“Would you not like to see me humbled before the Council for the harm done to your Padawan?” Dooku landed on his feet, less than gracefully but still in form. He watched to see if his words would add to the storm. He continued to project the most awful of things to your mind trying to break your will. Mental images of your Master dying, of Kenobi dying, of your apprentice crying for help as he too died. All of that which you feared most. A little further he thought, only a little more and the girl will crumble. Dooku shot lightning at you, laughing as he reveled in your cries of pain. “Or have you finally found that you are not what you believe yourself to be?”
“Aaaaahhhh!!!” You screamed in pain and frustration and the barrage continued.
Smirking he set the bolts loose again. Oh yes this did brighten his day to see you suffer. “You are no Knight, you are nothing but a weak little foundling! A cur allowed among the ranks of better beings because of one Council head's attachment.”
“Don't listen to him Y/n!” Obi Wan screamed from across the room, the lightning was so bright that he could barely discern your outline.
“Obi Boy...”
He took in a sharp breath feeling your signature wrap tightly to his. “Wee One?”
“Hey Slemo!”
Dooku paused the electric charge hearing your words. There you stood looking at him defiantly through the pain. How was this possible? Then he realized you hadn't fully taken the shock, channeling it to the ground through your body. Anger rose within him, not the least of which was directed at his own hubris. “So you HAVE learned something...”
“And you have forgotten,” Raising your saber again at the old man, charging forward with a swift low swing at his knees. One two three times blocked to come up for a high cross body strike. You glared over the light of the blades, “You've forgotten who you were! Whom you were supposed to defend! You were a Jedi, you were Qui Gon's Master.”
“You are not worthy to utter his name!” The old man matched your venom at the mere mention of his former apprentice.
So the old man still grieved. Good you thought, two could play at this! “Would he recognize you now? To see what you have become?”
Dooku charged and swung harder this time aiming for your shoulder and neck to silence you. “Qui Gon should still be alive, but instead you two unworthy children...”
“Qui Gon died defending the galaxy from the evil that you embraced!” You parried and kept backing him towards the edge of the cavern space. The old Sith continued to bash at your mental shields continuing his two front assault. You could feel him clawing in, feel yourself weakening with each minute and blow. The dark thoughts that you kept at bey so long rising at his bidding. You would not yield this battle though, giving a scream. “If Qui Gon had lived he would stand against you now! Since he cannot then we will!”
“You and Kenobi are nothing! That boy is nothing!” Dooku had to pivot quickly to avoid the quick footwork and precision of your thrusts and swings. Damn you using his momentary lapse to begin taking ground. Dooku wasn't out of the fight yet, using the Force to hurtle crates at rapid speed while blocking and advancing back at you. “The power of the dark side shall rise to bring order to the Galaxy.”
“Not so long as there is one Jedi left to defend her still!”
Slicing through the crates you continued to fight your way to the corner. Just a bit closer to the power conduit on the wall. Keeping your eyes on the Sith as you got within range. Tipping over a chemical container near the wall, then yanking out the high voltage cables.
“Anakin look away!” Obi Wan tried to cover his eyes as the pool of chemicals sparked off.
There was a flash and a wave of heat as the fumes ignited around the Count, driving you back. Please let this work, sweet merciful Force...
But then the world crumbled around you, nothing but swirling darkness.
You felt as though transported, floating through the coldest void of space until suddenly your body dropped to the ground.
No... this couldn't be?
You were back on Talenza... back to that day. Swirling ash and fire surrounding you, the stench of burnt flesh and death. The bodies of all the Jedi you had ever know strewn about your feet, blood raining from the sky.
Sightless eyes staring at you, mouths moving in tandem....
Why didn't you save us? Why didn't you save us?
Closest to you was Obi Wan and Anakin, again the same words.
Why didn't you save us?
“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” This wasn't real, this couldn't be real, DEAR SWEET MAKER STOP THIS PLEASE!
Pain erupted in your back and head momentarily breaking the hold Dooku had on your mind. The briefest of pauses from the horror. Thrown into the cavern wall to fall to the floor, flung into the rocky surface again and again like a ragdoll.
“Foolish child,” the Sith tutted as he strode closer, untouched by the flame. Raising his hand to continue the scourge. “Did you really think that would work? That you could defeat me so easily...”
The images kept flashing over and over in your mind, until all at once they stopped. As though the light had reached through and pulled you from the depths of the dark. Warmth slowly creeping back into you along with the pain. A familiar voice rang in the cavern as surely as a meditation bell in the Temple, steady and calm.
“Release her.” The paced clacking of a walking staff came to a pause, voice raising again. “Release my Knight!”
Dooku sneered, “Master Yoda...”
Your body crumpled to the floor, blood pounding in your head. The wise old Master looked to you, raising a hand that would stay you from acting further. Not that there was much convincing needed. You reached your signature out to Anakin and Obi Wan, injured but alive. “Obi Boy...”
“I'm here Wee One.”
“I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...” You succumbed to the pain, vision blanking into unconsciousness.
Yoda looked upon the man before him, twisted in mind and spirit.
No longer the boy he had taught...
No longer the Knight and defender...
“Count Dooku.”
“You have interfered with our affairs for the last time,” The Sith pried and flung multiple conduits from the wall to crush his foe. When that did not prove enough he brought the ceiling of the cave upon the small Jedi's head.
With an nonplussed waive of his hand Yoda deflected the debris. “Our affairs is it? Then truly fallen you have.”
“The dark side has shown me the truth of the galaxy. And my Master has taught me so much more than you ever could.” Dooku glowered at the small being that he had once held in such esteem. One who had held him back and treated him like a child, well no more. He would end his former Master once and for all, “I have become more powerful than any mere Jedi... Even you!”
Lightning arced through the air at the small Jedi but to no effect. Dooku tried again, but with each attempt Yoda deflected or absorbed the volts, appearing unimpressed by the attempt. Similar to when an initiate threw a tantrum in the creche, the old Master kept his countenance calm. Dooku knew better though, that the still waters ran deeper than the ocean worlds.
“Powerful you have become Dooku,” Yoda straightened his posture to more squarely look the man down. "but not wiser."
“How is this possible?” Dooku glared at the small being. Sidious had trained him well, Dooku should be able to defeat the old man easily. He was more powerful, smarter! Anger and fear flashed within him as Dooku continued to reassess his strategy.
“Your ambitions and plans, like leaves in the wind they are,” Yoda's ears turned up as he glared down at his opponent, “Much to learn you still have. Clouded is your mind, to your senses return.”
“It is obvious that this contest will not be decided by our knowledge of the Force, but by our skills with a saber.” He raised his blade, cool anger flashing in his eyes, “Unless you feel unequal to the challenge.”
Parting his robes Yoda drew his saber, “Do you?”
Across the floor Obi Wan was unable do much while injured, Anakin was semi conscious on his leg. They needed to get out of the cavern, there was no hope of lending assistance to Master Yoda in their condition. Concentrating on you signature Obi Wan tried to wake you, “Wee one?”
You face twitched in pain, but still not rousing to consciousness.
“Wee One I need you,” He focused harder, “Please wake up love, please.”
“Obi...” One eye blinked painfully open as you took in a deeper breath. You could hear the clash of sabers beating, glancing over you witnessed something not seen in a very long time. Master Yoda had drawn his lightsaber and was fighting the Count. The normally peaceful and patient Grand Master was beating the fallen Jedi, giving no quarter. Glancing at where Anakin and Obi Boy were you also saw the bleak look in his eyes. “Are you alright?”
“We need to get the boy out of here, can you help pull us over.” Reaching out with the Force Obi Wan moved to where you lay. You were shaking and unfocused, you were scared. Raising a hand to your battered face, Obi Wan's voice shook, "I'm sorry love, I'm sorry for all of it."
"Me too," Leaning into the touch you wrapped your signature to his, at least you were together.
The tears in your eyes begged to set loose, but you refused. For all their sakes you had to hold back, as much as you wanted otherwise. Fortunately the saber had cauterized the wound, but you doubted there was any way of reattaching the arm successfully. The boy was in shock and you did your best to try to ease his pain. What little strength you had would not allow you to do much. Placing your hand to his head you tried to give him peace, projecting that day at the beach on Dantooine, a good memory instead of the fear of now. “It'll be alright Ani-man, just hold on... just hold on.”
Yoda clashed his saber with Dooku's again and again, each blow and move made to disarm his foe. Dooku was strong, but his emotions clouded his judgment. It had been one of the many reasons that he had been denied a seat on the Council. His arrogance and air of superiority over his fellow knights had also been a thorn in many of the Jedi's side. Warning signs seen too late or ignored due to rank? Blocking yet another crippling blow Yoda struggled to hold his guard, “fought well you have my old Padawan.”
“Kind of you to notice, but I think that this contest is soon to end.” Forcing the smaller Jedi away the Count raised his hand to rip the largest of the ducts on the wall away. With all of his might Dooku tried to bring it down on the injured Jedi.
“Y/n!” Obi Wan grabbed your head trying to shield both you and Anakin with his body.
Bounding back from Dooku, Yoda raised his arms in concentration. Even as the Sith laughed and ran to his ship Yoda held the large metal beam fast and with great effort flung it away. Turning just as the portal to the ship closed the old Master glowered. “Finished, this is not!”
“No,” Dooku's voice boomed, “it is just the beginning!”
Translations:
Udesii, Pare- Easy, Wait
Taglist: @meshlasolus @the-rain-on-kamino @a-rose-of-amber @aquaamethyst96 @stanny-uwu @just-dreaming-marvel @nurseytypechick @in-a-mellow-tone @acatalystrising @pickleprickle @iambored24601 @songoficecreamandfireworks @misscamptl @purplepandora666 @obiknights @moostresskenobi @the-going-merry @ginger-swag-rapunzel @iabrokengirl @lovelyxlily @annasun13 @foxperifoto @supernaturallover2002
#Holy crud this took a while!#Oh but it's here#the next one's really gonna hurt...#go read fluff after this#you'll need it#star wars#obi wan kenobi#obi wan kenobi x reader#obi wan x reader#obi wan fanfiction#obi wan x y/n#ol&d#obi wan x you#jango fett#count dooku#master yoda#mace windu#plo koon#attack of the clones
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The Last Betrayal
Title: Downfall
Chapter Title: The Last Betrayal
Fandom: Batman
Rating: M for graphic violence
Chapter Summary: Edward and Harley come face to face.
AO3 Link
This...is probably the toughest chapter I've ever written. Please heed the warning on this one folks.
preview
Harley's eyes darted about as she listened. "She was just gamin' you," she said, almost as if she was trying to convince herself of that fact. "She was just tryin' to make you into another one of her science projects! She doesn't love you! Not the real you! Jonny loved the real you!"
"I'm not the man I was when I was with Jonathan," Edward said. "Not anymore. I'll never be that man again." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Jonathan's gone, and he took part of me with him. This is who I am now. This is the 'real me'. Penny loves me now, and that's more than I ever hoped for. I'm happier now than I've ever remembered being before. If you're my friend, then why can't you accept that?" Harley said nothing. "You know what losing Jonathan did to me," he said. "If you're my friend, then why do you want to make me go through that pain all over again?"
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The Contest
Something I did to get this itch for fairy competitions out! Warning for a bit of body horror.
"And to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure, John?" Asked the Faerie Queen, resting on her throne of living apple boughs. The apple tree bowed from her lazing and dripped fragrant blossoms through her silk-smooth hair. The man scratched his stubbly chin, one hand in his pocket, and peered about at the gathered fey folk with a nervous shake to his knees. Her Majesty had her retinue of knights in shimmering silver-steel, and dozens of courtiers who tittered or murmured behind their masks and fans.
He nodded respectfully to the Queen, before demanding, "Our son, Arialliendel. I've had such terrible dreams, the kind my grandmother warned me to heed, and I want to bring him home." A hush fell over the court as he addressed her by her first name, a simple farmer before the majesty of an ageless fey. The queen's face darkened with the deliberate humiliation, but she stood nonetheless, the heavy weight of her full belly obvious under her dress when she wasn't lounging. It brightened him to see. But now he had to play the games of Fairies, and his grandmother's advice burned in his chest. No way to win but to cheat. Do the unexpected, put them on their back foot. Never let them know they've lost before they ever played.
The shimmering knights put hands to hilts, but she calmed them with a glance, one hand gently holding the weight of their unborn child. "I told you truly beneath the withering apple tree, dear John. The child will be fey, not a thing likely to be understood by your kind." She had the beginnings of a smile on her face, and John could only stand stock-still, like a man confronted with a panther who was equal parts sleepy and hungry.
"And human. Even less likely understood by yours, or else we wouldn't fascinate you so," he challenged, to cooing and murmurs from those beady fairie eyes in the court. "You'd only ever see him as an object, just as you saw me. I want my son, She of the Apple Blossom, and I will have him. I'll settle this in your way, if I must." He was firm, challenging her directly. Courage, cleverness, a willingness to cheat. He hoped he wasn't wrong.
"A competition?" She gasped, face darkening like a thundercloud. Blossoms rained down from the woven ceiling of the Court, and the courtiers cringed as a circle of petals cleared around her. The air got heavy, and he felt the rotted molar in his mouth begin aching at the smell of petrichor.
"A contest," He agreed, willing himself not to smile. He had something in mind.
"Will it be a battle of brawn, you hay-strewn oaf?" She asked dangerously, waving to her knights. "Anyone may be your challenger, and with that iron dagger on your belt, it's more than fair."
"No, your majesty," He rebutted, taking out his dagger. Revealing it's blade in her presence, he showed off that the belt knife was snapped off halfway down it's length. He dropped the piece, at her feet, even the knights cringing at the sight of soft grey iron. "I'd make poor sport against ageless warriors, I'm so clumsy I seem to have broken my knife."
"WIts, then." She offered, taken aback. He could see she wasn't expecting that. She turned and waved to her courtiers. "All of them are more than a match for you, as hollow as your head is." The courtiers started to straighten up at her words, fluffing up with pride in their delicate silks and brocades.
"No, your majesty," He shook his head, for all the world like a helpless peasant. "I'm afraid I never learned my letters till I met you, and the only genteel poems or riddles I know are ones you taught me 'neath the apple tree." He smiled at her, and was so pleased to see he could still pink her cheeks, even in the face of this terrible battle. It brought him solace, if only for a moment. He had loved her. Truly. "My Grandmother's old riddles and stories would be far beneath the refined tastes of your fine gentlefolk. She taught me every one she knew, and not one would stump your clever kin."
He could see her getting angry, furious at being so politely denied twice her assured victory, but if there were a third denial, things would get ugly. He had learned well from her and from the old stories. The fey didn’t change, didn’t have to, and their ways would win him his son.
“Name the contest. I would never break the trinity with a third suggestion,” She demanded, clearly exasperated. John nodded, waiting for his chance. He had one shot to do this right, and the yeoman knew if he phrased anything poorly, he’d be a head on an apple bough.
“Sacrifice. The prize is our son, and I would know your mettle if I were to lose to you,” John challenged. “None but you may participate, because the child is yours. This is one challenge I know you cannot refuse. What queen can’t make sacrifices?” He taunted her a bit, knowing that she’d rise to take the bait. For all her wisdom, the Queen was prideful.
“I can withstand a hundred of these pitiful human 'sacrifices'. How is the game to be played?” She asked testily. He could see the inhuman quality now. Her teeth lengthened in a wolven rictus, and he could see that despite the haunting beauty he’d once fallen under the spell of, this was no place for his son.
“I will go first, and if you cannot, in all your grace and strength follow my lead, I will be the winner.” John lectured. He watched her worry over his words, the phrasing, the exact way he’d decided to say it. That was alright. He’d crafted his words with care, but she’d never see how till it was too late.
“Agreed,” She spoke regally, so all could hear her. Everyone moved back so that the bright sunlight could envelop the two in competition, none able to interrupt a tradition older than human writing and human pain.
“I’ll start then. I would sacrifice the hands that might hold my son. I’d bleed with them, and pull the nails off to win him." John showed the queen his hand, the hand he’d been keeping in his pocket. All five nails were completely black, like paint, but as John gripped one of the nails with his other hand, it was clear he’d done something, damaged them and let the nail bed fill with blood, as he painlessly peeled the dead nails off, one by one. It hurt, but it didn't pain him as much as it would the queen.
Each one of his disgusting, battered farmer’s nails dropped to the ground like trash, and John nodded to her. Eyes clear and hand dripping fresh red onto the petals of her tree, he could tell she understood.
She watched in horror, realizing she’d been tricked. Despite that, she swallowed, and almost dismissively, held out a hand, letting a knight come forward and produce calipers of wood and stone. One by one, the queen writhed soundlessly as her nails were torn free, leaving her beautiful hands bloody and dripping. Beautiful, lacquered nails joined the blackened ones on the floor, and she rolled her shoulders to shake off the pain.
“Bravely done, Your Majesty,” he praised, but continued, “But I’ve so much more I’d give. The teeth in my mouth. Food is a joy, but it turns to ash in my mouth thinking of the cruelty you'd inflict on my own flesh and blood.” he reached into his mouth, to the horror of the crowd, and his fingers found the rotted, painful molar in the back of his mouth. He’d been meaning to get rid of it at the barber's anyway, it was loose and hurt him when it rained. It had been the basis of his plan.
The farmer pulled the tooth loose with an agonized yell, and it joined the pile of detritus on the floor, the cracked, rotted tooth providing John relief when it came loose, rather than pain. He smiled to her, then opened his mouth to show it was gone. The crowd got bolder, booing at his clear cheating. But it was within the rules of the game.
He watched her consider him with something like shock, then shudder and take the pliers from the knight. With shaking hands, she followed suit, and there was a sickening crack, then a crunch, as she grabbed the same tooth he’d pulled, and yanked it free.
A beautiful, pearlescent tooth was held up to the crowd, who oo’d and aaah’d appreciatively. She tossed it to the ground with the pliers in disgust, nursing her bleeding mouth, and stared hateful daggers into his soul. “You cheat,” She hissed, face curled in pain and humiliation.
“Sometimes getting older, getting hurt… it has its advantages. Suffering can teach you bravery and humility, Your Majesty.” He answered, voice no longer quavering.
He reached down and picked up the broken blade from his belt knife. It was dull and old, but the tip was sharp, and it was well-wrought iron. It had served him many years, and would perform one more task for its master.
“I would give up anything for my son, Arialliendel. If he’s only half so strange and wondrous as you have been, then I will have no trouble raising him into a fine young man.” He said it solemnly, seriously. He didn’t hate this fairy, only what she’d done, loving him for a time and then stealing away his child to her terrible world of monsters. It was no place for his son.
“I would give up half the light of this world, Your Majesty.” He took a deep breath, then stood up straight and put some steel into his spine, bracing himself for what was to come. The farmer held the blade so tight it cut his hand, and with a roar that startled the court, plunged the tip into his eye. He stabbed fast, then twisted, blotting out one-half of his vision for good. He’d always had good eyes, and it was one of the first things the queen had ever complimented. He knew she couldn’t copy his feat. It was the only thing that comforted him as he annihilated one of them.
Tears leaked down his good eye to match the blood from his now-ruined one. He could have a doctor fix him up later, but there would be no repairing his vision. He was in agony, shaking from the pain, but kept his wits. He held out the cold iron knife and smiled even more coldly. “Yield, your Majesty.” He told her simply.
She was pale as a ghost, holding out her hand to the gory iron blade like it was a snake. She had to do it like he did. She reached out for the blade once, twice, then pulled her hand away, turned, and vomited loudly behind her throne, shocking the crowd.
John, dizzy and recognizing he’d won, dropped the knife into the pile, shaking with the pain and trying to blink away the blood, only to keep gunking his socket up further with strings of gore.
The Queen finished retching, and wiped her mouth with a silk cloth, before nodding to him, hardly able to look upon his red-soaked face. “I y-yield, John Katarinason. He will be delivered to you on the day of his birth, without so much as a cup of his mother’s milk.” The accord was struck, and everyone in the room shivered at the feeling of magic crawling about beneath their feet.
“Never return here,” She told him firmly. “My love cannot blunt this humiliation, John. If I see you again, I will collect the other eye.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” He said gratefully, bowing to her.
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