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retrievablememories · 6 months

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cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

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

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

word count: 13.7k

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

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

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

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

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“the fuck are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

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

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

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

“tryna get the remote.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

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

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

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

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

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what about me and jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…a baseball bat?”

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

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

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

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

MONDAY, NOV 6

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

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

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

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

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so damn corny.”

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

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

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

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

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

“you think i have a list?”

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

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

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

TUESDAY, NOV 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SUNDAY, NOV 12

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

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

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

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

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

“is it finished?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

“y/n…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FRIDAY, NOV 17

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

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

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

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

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

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

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

“y/n—” camille starts.

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

“what?”

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

“blood?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LYING IN WAIT...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

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

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

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

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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venomous-qwille · 7 months

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Ghost in the Machine

This is the master post for Ghost in the Machine links, character refs and FAQs.

I will try my best to keep this post as up to date as possible.

What is Ghost in The Machine?

GITM is a DCA AU and a fic set in the retrofuture (2055ish) long after Fazco has shut down. An eccentric collector has been acquiring versions of the Daycare Attendant animatronic from closed locations around the world. The story involves a reader character who has been brought into repair the original post-Ruin DCA from the games, and hijinks ensue. There are also ghosts.

Where can I read the fic?

GITM is currently being posted on Ao3, and is updated every three weeks on Saturdays. The fic is being beta'd by the tremendously talented @bubbiethesaur. You can read GITM here!

There is also a podfic, which you can find here:

Updates to the podfic will be sporadic, so please be patient <3

Where can I see the art?

On this blog I use the #gitm au and #ghost in the machine au tags for GITM related content. If you are looking for art of a specific character, they also have their own tags: #misuta moon #nova #soleil #clip.exe #sunspot mk1 #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #sombra #sunflower #mr sandman

FAQ~

Why haven't you answered my GITM ask?

One of three reasons: 1) your ask was too spoilery* 2) I'm waiting to answer it with art 3) ADHD

*spoilery includes but is not limited to: any questions about dual-AI or XYZ character's sun/moon variant; questions about character backstories and lore; questions about characters that have not featured in the fic yet (e.g Nova, Sanii, Harvest, Sunflower, Sandman etc); asks speculating about potential future scenarios (don't get me wrong, I love these asks, but I can't answer them!)

Where are all the Moons?

Read and find out. Seriously. There are at least 5 Moons who are core to the plot but I'm not going to talk about them, no matter how nicely you ask!

Does XYZ character have a Sun/Moon counterpart?

Some of them do, some of them don't. The dual-AI stuff is majorly plot related. If I'm not talking about someone's Sun/Moon counterpart, rest assured you will find out eventually. I won't be spoiling any of it on tumblr though :)

Can I create fanart of GITM?

Yes yes yes please do and please tag me when you post it so I can see it/reblog! If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Can I create fanfic of GITM?

Super flattered about this. I have a longform answer to this question which you can read here. But tl;dr yes you can, please tag/credit me, do not spoil/try to write the lore, and please do not write GITM au (e.g mafia, mer, medieval). I have my own plans for this stuff and I would prefer to release the designs/stories in my own time. If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Do you have character refs I can use?

There is a collection of art 'refs' for each character on the Misutamojis discord. Latest link here.

There are no proper call-out sheets/refs currently, but I have a huge body of art for the characters on this blog which should give you more than enough info for most of them. I will get around to creating proper refs eventually, in which case I will link them here.

Where can I find the playlist?

I update the spotify playlist fairly regularly, if you have any music recs you can send them over in an ask! You can listen to the playlist here!

I've heard there are secret GITM drabbles, where can I find them?

I used to post frequent drabbles from future chapters in the DCA Palooza discord, I have recently deleted the majority of them as people were going back and binging them which hadn't been the intended reading experience. Anywho, this question probably refers more to the spicy drabbles (which people have very kindly made a lot of delicious art for). These are still around! You just need to access the spicy channel and do some digging.

Is there a GITM discord?

Nope! There is a server for GITM emotes and a busy thread in the DCA Palooza, but currently I don't have any plans to make a GITM-centric discord community. If that does happen in the future it's likely I will simply convert the emotes server (Misutamojis).

It finally happened, I converted Misutamojis. You can join the GITM discord here.

Can I smooch the robots?

Yes.

All of them?

All of them.

#master post #ghost in the machine #ghost in the machine au #gitm au #soleil #clip.exe #sanii drop #misuta moon #sunspot mk1 #harvest moon #sunflower and the sandman #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #nova #gitm yn #sombra #SoundCloud

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writingwithcolor · 4 months

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Am I handling the black woman character’s murder well?

@selfdxd2 asked:

Hello! My current project is a crime fiction set in KY, USA in which the instigating action is the death of a young black woman (W), with the first half being another young woman (L) investigating her disappearance and how it correlates with the disappearance of her close friend. That friend (P) is later found alive after having been kidnapped because he witnessed the crime, and is the POV character of the second half. He is also a white man, and him being white is relevant to other aspects of the story. My intention is for the "credit" for solving W's death to go almost entirely to L (who is also a woman of color, specifically Romani), and for the tragedy to be centered around the unfair loss of life and the pain of her parents and others who knew W rather than how bad P feels about it. My main cast also has two other prominent black women with arcs that extend outside this tragedy. All of this is intended to lend to one of the story's major themes of social invisibility vs visibility. So does this exploration of that stray into harmful territory from the outset? I know successfully keeping away from any white manpain traps will take active caution while actually writing the story and I intend to get sensitivity readers as I work on it, but I wanted to get some feedback on my starting point before going too far down that road. Thanks so much for all you do!

It is important for us to know why this young Black woman was murdered to give specific advice.

Was it racially motivated, gender motivated, or both?

Wrong place, wrong time?

Did someone take revenge?

Was she involved in something insidious?

Was it truly an accident?

Depending on the reason, you should explore and acknowledge this violence and the existing societal problem behind it. For help, see the crime stats on violence against Black women.

…and for the tragedy to be centered around the unfair loss of life and the pain of her parents and others who knew W rather than how bad P feels about it.

Yes, give a voice to the people most affected by her death. Other Black women, people, and Women of Color. This will help further not make it about the feelings of a white man. He is absolutely a victim of the crime too, being kidnapped, so his trauma does matter and should be tended to. But ultimately, he gets to live.

On that note, his life being worth kidnapping vs. ending begs the question; why wasn’t he murdered while the Black woman’s life had to end? And for representation purposes, why couldn’t it be the other way around (Where the Black woman lives and witnesses the crime, and the white man dies)?

This is why knowing your reasoning for her death is so important.

Otherwise, if she was thoughtlessly murdered, it does feel like her life was incredibly devalued in your story due to her being a Black woman. It’s a serious and true problem, so I'm not saying not to write this. This just needs careful exploring. If you’re choosing to bring this real life problem into your story, it deserves full and respectful acknowledgement.

Please check out our resources on writing tragic material, Black suffering and abuse and avoiding exploitation.

More reading: tragedy exploitation tag

~Mod Colette

#Death #murder #tw #Black women #Black person dies first #Tragedy exploitation #Black suffering

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melodygatesauthor · 3 months

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The Dark Side of the Moon - Chapter 9: Betrayed

Vampire Marc Spector X f!Reader

Beta Read by @xbellaxcarolinax - Masterlist - AO3

A/N: I've finished writing this series! I'll be posting the final 3 chapters every Sunday for the next 3 weeks!

Chapter Summary

You and Marc are running out of time. You need to come up with a plan...and fast.

Tags/Warnings (for entire fic)

Major Tags/Warnings Major Character Death - Non-con - Dub-con - Violence Minor Tags/Warnings NSFW, smut, Khonshu is human turned vampire, Ammit is human turned vampire, sex with characters other than the main pairing (Marc X f!Unnamed Character - Khonshu X f!Reader), p in v creampie, furniture grinding, scent kink, blood kink, vampire/human relationship, blood drinking, rough sex, oral sex, coming untouched, coming in pants, panty sniffing, angst, fluff, smut, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, Marc does NOT have DID Dead Dove Do Not Eat - This means that what you see in the tags is what you get in the fic. If you read the tags and see "non-con" and then see non-con in the fic, don't be surprised!

Word Count: 1.6k

You smelled different since Marc had been with you just the other night, and he felt more drawn to you than ever before.

Khonhsu must’ve noticed it as well. It was obvious with the change in his attention toward you, especially in front of Ammit. Marc observed the way he held onto your hip so tightly, fingers digging into your side a little more possessively than before. Your scent had changed from that sweet aroma to a warm musk, and Marc couldn’t describe the way it made him feel.

Protective? Possessive? As if he would - without hesitation - tear the limbs off of anyone who thought of harming you even the slightest? It’s not like he didn’t feel this way about you before, but something was different now. He felt a deeper…connection.

Something else had changed. Marc could see Khonshu paying more attention to him, which made his stomach turn. Did he know? Was he biding his time, toying with Marc until they got back to the mansion? Would he stick Marc in the thirst room until you were dead and he’d never see you again? It was as if all the wind had been punched out of his lungs when he thought about that. Your mortality was always on the back of his mind, but he’d never really considered living without you.

He couldn’t fucking live without you.

“Marc!” Khonshu snapped, forcing Marc to jump out of his thoughts and give all his attention to his master. “Out.”

The word was final, strong, and non-negotiable. Without any sort of acknowledgement, Marc left the lounge, which Khonshu had been using as a makeshift meeting room for his own household while on Ammit’s property. In his quarters, Marc stewed, an anxious poison bubbling in his gut at the thought of what may happen if his fears were justified. What if Khonshu knew about what he’d done with you, and what if, as a result, that night was the last chance he would ever have to save you both?

It wasn’t a matter of if, anymore, it was a matter of when he could sneak off to your room and a matter of how hard it would be to convince you that the two of you needed to get out of there immediately. There were several obstacles, but he thought he could figure them out with your help. The only thing that was for certain was the fact that you both needed to leave as soon as possible.

Marc had expected it would be a little more difficult this time around while trying to get to you, now that Khonshu was certainly suspicious of him, but to his surprise, he had no resistance getting to you at all. He wondered if everyone was busy in preparation for the return home tomorrow. You were awake, jumping out of your bed the moment he climbed in through the window. In a mad rush, you both collided, lips and tongues melting into one another through a series of moans.

“I have to–” kiss “talk to you,” you moaned, breathing heavily in between each peck.

“Me too,” he rasped, pushing you against the wall roughly. “You smell different,” he growled into your neck.

“I know,” you whispered.

Marc hoped you didn’t feel the urgency in his shaking hands while he pulled his pants down to his thighs. You held onto him tight as he lifted you effortlessly, slowly lowering your body down around his dick. You’d neglected your panties. He wondered if you were expecting him to come to you one more time before you both had to leave Ammit’s home.

You both exhaled out into the room as your bodies connected. Marc’s thrusting was ragged, and he knew it. He was desperate for you, he could feel it in every nerve ending, this intoxicating need to have you. This new scent of yours was driving him mad, and he couldn’t understand why.

“You have to bite me,” he muttered between thrusts, “and do it hard.”

You looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion. He’d forgotten that you didn’t know much about his kind, other than their need for blood and the fact that they could live forever. Khonshu was careful about how much he told you and the other livestock in an effort to keep you ignorant and obedient.

“Khonshu is suspicious,” he breathed, “I don’t want to turn you but–”

Marc was cut off by the sharp pain of you biting hard into the side of his neck. He groaned as he felt the skin break. It wasn’t often that Marc felt pain, he liked it though, particularly while his cock was buried deep in your warm cunt. He sighed out a moan, completely engulfed in a feeling of pure pleasure while you drank from him. His hips started rolling harder, as if they moved on their own, basking in the feeling of the agony and ecstasy melting as one.

“Mm, yeah honey, just like that,” he cooed, kissing the side of your neck and trying to keep himself from tearing into your skin as well.

He could tell you liked the taste based solely on the fact that you were moaning more than usual while you licked at his skin. You shuddered, walls clenching around him as he pushed deeper, fucking into you harder.

“M-Marc, oh-my…”

Your breath caught in your throat and you tilted your head back to rest against the wall while he moved even faster. His orgasm came rushing through his body, hips stuttering until they were flush against yours, cock throbbing and spilling into your gushing cunt. You moaned so loudly Marc thought you might get caught so he clamped his palm down over your bloody lips.

It took several moments of holding you there before you both had calmed down enough for him to lower you to the ground. You wiped your lips and stared at him wide-eyed as if you couldn’t believe what had just transpired.

“God, I didn’t mean to bite you so hard, I’m sorry,” you said, reaching out to touch where you’d bitten his neck.

He chuckled, “don’t worry, I heal pretty quick.” He touched the wound. “Besides, we can call it payback for all the times I’ve tried to sink my teeth into you.” Marc pulled his pants back up around his hips. “How are you feeling?”

He tilted your head this way and that, looking for any indication of change. He didn’t understand. Your pupils weren’t dilated as he’d expected them to be, and you didn’t feel feverish to the touch. Turning a human didn’t take long, at least not from what he recalled.

“I don’t feel different,” you said, a hint of worry in your voice.

“Of course you don’t, little dove.”

Khonshu appeared, like a villain in a movie, sliding in through your bedroom window and striding over to Marc. He grabbed Marc by the throat before he even had a chance to react, holding him high while keeping his eyes locked on yours. Marc held onto Khonshu’s forearm, choking and gasping, trying desperately to keep himself from losing consciousness.

“Sir, please!” You yelled, louder than Marc had ever thought your voice could go.

Khonshu dropped Marc on the floor, leaving him gasping and struggling to catch his breath. Marc could see you backing up into the corner in terror but knew it would get much worse for you both if he tried to stop Khonshu. It was obvious he valued you above any other cattle and wouldn’t kill you, but Marc didn’t doubt Khonshu’s ability to make the rest of your life a living hell if he chose to.

Marc watched as Khonshu grabbed your arm roughly and forced you to the bed, bending you over the mattress. You were brave, Marc noted, hardly making a sound above a quiet whimper while Khonshu pulled your dress aside and stuck two of his thick fingers into your cunt, still slick from before.

“Just as I thought,” he spat through clenched teeth, pulling out his fingers only to reveal Marc’s cum dripping from them. “Marc,” he said as though scolding a child, “to think that my own knight would betray me so. I saved you, Marc Spector, or did you forget?!”

You turned over now, scrambling to put some distance between yourself and Khonshu.

“I didn’t forget,” Marc managed to say as he fought to control his breathing. “But you can’t keep her in a cage like an animal, you can’t keep tricking innocent people into your bullshit cult.”

Khonshu sniffed out a laugh, “and why is that, Marc? Hm? Is it because she smells so good that you’ve changed your attitude toward the cattle trade? Because until I brought her home you didn’t seem to take issue with a free food supply.” He stormed over to Marc.

Marc kept looking to you for a change in your appearance, even the slightest shift in your posture, but nothing changed. You still looked the same as you did on the day he first saw you.

“Why didn’t it work?” Marc asked coldly, looking up at Khonshu from where he still knelt on the floor.

“I know you’re young, Marc, but you’re not a fool.” Khonshu walked over to Marc and grabbed the collar of his jacket. The door to your room burst open to allow several of Khonshu’s guards in. Before they whisked Marc away, Khonshu leaned in to whisper in his ear, “you know our blood only works on humans.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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tangerinesgf · 1 year

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Silent Screams

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: A job gone wrong makes Tangerine live his worst nightmare

Wordcount: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: major character death (yes again, I know just bare with me pls), lots of angst, blood, language, asshole cartel leader, lots of tears (please tell me if I missed something)

A/N: I apologize in advance, this is gonna be an angsty one. So be warned.

I told you this was gonna be easy, you worried for nothing."

"We're not out of the woods yet, love."

"I'm just saying, if getting in was this easy how hard can it be to get out again?"

"Jus' 'ave a bad feeling about this is all." his eyes were scanning the room from corner to corner even as he closed the door behind him.

Tangerine couldn't shake the feeling that something was up with this job. Not necessarily if it was a trap or not, although he wouldn't discard that option entirely. He and Lemon had been in a lot of dangerous situations, he wouldn't be able to count them all if he tried, but something about this felt wrong.

Maybe it was the fact that you were currently infiltrating one of the most dangerous organizations on the planet apart from the White Death's. The three of you were tasked with stealing an envelope which contained important letters regarding Girardi Ludano, the boss. They didn't ask what was in it or what it would be used for, but it was safe to assume that the goal was to destroy him and his reputation.

You had been going on jobs with the Twins for a while now. You weren't officially a trio, but you were with them more often than not. However when presented this particular one Tangerine has asked you to stay home just this one time. Ludano was known for being ruthless, he didn't care who he killed even if they had been by his side for years. If he found out you were fucking him over you're a goner.

He was also known for being careless with women, Ludano thought himself above them and with him most of the men that worked for him. Hence the reason Tangerine had asked you to stay put. Unfortunately you wouldn't listen, no matter how hard he tried to convince you, saying that you didn't need protection from a bunch of pathetic men.

Tangerine knows you could handle yourself, he really does, he just didn't want to take any unnecessary risks if he could avoid them. After a long and exhausting argument, Tangerine realized that you were not gonna let this go and decided to bring you along anyway.

It was a fancy gathering, all the most important people in the cartel were invited as were their partners. Small blessings he thought, because that way you wouldn't stick out as the only woman in the crowd. He wanted to get out as quickly as possible, because sooner or later someone was going to notice that there were a bunch of strangers among them. He held onto your waist the entire time, keeping you close to him, away from those lingering eyes. In return he could feel your hand on his back, trying to calm his nerves by drawing circles.

Ever since the two of you started dating his urge to protect you has grown immensely. If it was up to him no one else would ever lay a hand on you again. And that went both ways. He remembers one day where you'd told him that if it came to it, you would take a bullet for him. It started out as a laugh, but turned serious quite quickly.

"I'm serious, Tan, I would."

"Yeah, well, before that happens I'm already not gonna let it happen, so don't even think about it, love."

And Tangerine was intent on keeping that promise, no matter what it took. He doesn't know how to do this life thing without you, not anymore. He was pulled away from his thoughts by your voice.

"Mhm?" he mumbled. He could hear her voice in front of him but none of the words held any meaning as they flew in through one ear and out through the other.

"I asked if you're just gonna stand there the entire time? This would go way faster if you actually helped me look for this fucking thing."

"Right."

After about a minute of searching you spoke up again. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing." he mumbled as he scoured through some documents.

"It's never just nothing with you."

"Just keep looking, alright? The faster we find this thing the faster we can get out of 'ere."

"Fine, keep your little secrets." Your tone was playful, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't help calm his anxiety, but he did find a small smile creeping up on his face.

Tangerine was looking behind the clothes in the man's closet next to the door when he heard a 'eureka' coming from the other side of the room. "Tan, I found it!"

Just as he was about to turn around the door to the office opened. Tangerine instantly went for his gun, only to recognize the man as his brother.

"Lemon, the fuck are you doin' in here? You're supposed to be fuckin' look out."

"Oh excuse me for trying to save your lives here, I'll just get back at it then." Before Lemon could turn around again Tangerine yanked him back into the room by his arm.

"The fuck is it?"

"Oh, now you wanna know?"

"Just fuckin' spit it out, would ya." Tangerine was already high strung from this fucking job and Lemon just playing around was not something he was willing to put up with right now.

"He's coming this way." Lemon stated.

"Shit." you cursed from the other side of the room.

"You couldn't have fuckin' led with that information?" If Ludano found them in here, they were dead fucking meat.

"I wanted to but you were being an ass about it."

"Okay fuck, we need to hide. Fast." His eyes scanned around the room and finally landed on closet he was just searching. He was sure that would be big enough for the tree of them.

Tangerine fully opened the closet he was previously searching and urged Lemon inside of it before joining him. He gestured for you to join them, but before you could make it to the other side of the room the door opened. Lemon instinctively closed to the closet, keeping the twins out of sight from the cartel leader.

"Fuck." His voice was low, only audible for Lemon to hear. This was exactly what he had been so afraid of, why he asked you to stay home where it's fucking safe. Now you were trapped in a room with a fucking psychopath who degrades women and all Tangerine can do is watch. He has to let it play out until it becomes too risky, which is an understatement because this whole fucking job was a risk since they walked through the fucking frontdoor.

"Can I help you?" Ludano asked you as he slowly closed the door behind him, his strong Italian accent filling the room.

The man was clearly startled to find someone in his office who is clearly not supposed to be there. Tangerine trusted your ability to get yourself out of this, you could sell hay to a farmer with that mouth. The one he didn't trust was Girardi Ludano. Tangerine knows the man wouldn't hesitate to kill you at the slightest suspicion that something was off or hell, even just for the fun of it. He could feel his heart beating in his throat as the watched the interaction through the shutters of the closet.

"I was looking for you actually, I'm a big fan of your work, sir."

"Who let you in here?" Ludano was cautious, almost hesitant and he had every right to be. As one of the biggest cartel leaders he couldn't trust anyone but himself, not even his own people. Right now though it was working to their disadvantage and Tangerine had to stop himself from just stepping out this box and shooting him point blank.

"The door was open actually, I got curious I guess, but I see that might not have been very proper of me." Your hands were behind your back, trying to shove the letter underneath your dress before he could see it.

"Step away from my desk please and show me your hands."

Tangerine was able to see the gun on the inside of the man's jacket as he walked closer to you. Apparently Lemon must have seen it too, because he placed a hand on Tangerine's shoulder, wordlessly telling him to calm down. "I'm sure you understand I have to be cautious with people who break into my office when there's a perfectly enjoyable party downstairs."

"Of Course yes, although technically I didn't really 'break in' if the door was open, you know?" you quipped, stalling to safely hide the envelope without him noticing.

"I said show me your hands." Ludano reached for the gun inside his jacket as you quickly stashed it and threw your hands up for him to see.

"What do you want?" his voice was firm but not especially demanding, still not sure if you were completely innocent or not.

"Like I said, I just really wanted to meet the big man behind the organization." You smiled innocently at him, as if you were truly just here by accident. It even threw Tangerine off.

"Anyways I know I overstepped and I apologize." You gave him an apologetic smile and walked past him and his still pointed gun to the door. Relief flowed through Tangerine when your hand reached the doorknob, turning it over and slowly opening the dark wooden door.

At least until Ludano walked over and pushed it shut again. He was now leaning over you, trapping you between himself and the door. "I've never seen you here before, think I'd remember a pretty little thing like yourself."

You were squirming under his piercing brown eyes, trying to think of a way out. In the meantime Tangerine thought of all the painful ways he could kill this man when they got out. "Which of my men managed to win you over?"

"My husband is just downstairs, but I don't think you know him, he's fairly new." Despite the situation, you held yourself together pretty well.

"I know everyone here, darling." Tangerine was crawling in his skin, desperately trying to get out of it as he watched Ludano move even closer to you.

"Just like I know when someone is trying to steal from me." His hand slowly slipped up the back of your top and snatched the envelope from underneath it, holding it in front of your face.

"Wait, I can-" Before you could finish your sentence, Ludano pressed his gun underneath your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Tangerine reached for his own gun, this fucker wasn't going to lay one more hand on you. Until suddenly Lemon stopped him, placing his hand firmly over his brother's. Tangerine looked up at him, giving him a questioning and irritated look.

"The fuck are you doing, she needs help." he whispered as aggressively as he possibly could.

"If you go out there guns blazing he'll not only kill her but you too or worse." For a second Tangerine considered the 'or worse'. If he was honest he couldn't care less if he died, what would actually kill him is having to live without you. But Lemon had a point, if he just stepped out now he might not just kill you but take you hostage or some shit. He could only imagine the things Ludano would do to make you wish for something as sweet as death. No, he wouldn't let that happen, but he couldn't just step out there without a plan.

"I'll just fuckin' shoot him in the head through this door, end of story." Tangerine said bluntly, trying to get his hand out of Lemon's grip.

"His entire fucking organization is here, no fucking way we would make it out alive after we killed their boss." Tangerine's eyes keep flickering between Lemon and the scene outside the closet, not wanting to miss anything that may happen. He could only hear small fragments of their conversation over his own with Lemon.

"Well the fuck do you suggest we do then, eh?"

"I don't think there's anything we can do." Lemon admitted. His eyes held a look of sorrow and pity for him as if he seemed to have already made up his mind. Tangerine couldn't believe his own ears.

"You just want me to stand here and let him do whatever the fuck he wants to her?" his eyes were comically wide as he stared at his brother in disbelief.

"I won't let you get out there, you'll only make things worse for both of ya."

"I couldn't give a rat's ass, I'm not just gonna let her die." No way he was just gonna sit here and watch, completely useless.

"If you go out there, she's surely dead." That shut him up.

Even though Tangerine knew deep down that Lemon was right, he didn't confirm or deny anything. For now he decided to listen to his brother and wait. He knows you, you've got this.

Both brothers turned their full attention back to the situation at hand. Ludano was still looming over you, only now instead of the gun he had his hand wrapped around your neck, the rings on his fingers no doubt leaving marks on your skin.

"I'll ask you one more time, and think carefully before you answer, okay?" You nodded slowly in response.

"Is there anyone else here?"

"N-no, just m-me, I swear." your voice was raspy from the lack of air flowing through your lungs.

"And no one knows you're here? No knight in shining armor coming to save you?" Not trusting your voice anymore, you decided to just shake your head.

"Good. Good girl." Everything they had heard about this man was true. He was a real sick fucking bastard. Tangerine wanted to rip his fucking arms off as he moved a strand of hair behind your ear. He needed to get you out of here as soon as possible.

"What am I supposed to do with you then, huh?" His voice was scaringly playful, as if he wasn't deciding the fate of your life at the moment.

"Just let me go, I'll forget everything, this never happened."

"As much as I'd like to, I don't think I can do that." Fuck.

"Why can't we just forget about this?" You suspected that he wasn't just gonna let it go, but some part of you had still hoped he would.

"Why?" He laughed at you. "Because you tried to steal from me with the intent of ruining my reputation and my organization and then lied to me about it."

"I promise you'll never have to see me again, I'll be as good as dead to you." You pleaded with him.

"See the thing is, now I just can't trust you anymore." he released his grip on you entirely and took a step back. You could see the hold on his gun tightening. "But you are right about one thing."

The cartel leader took a deep breath before raising his gun, pointing it directly at your chest.

"You will be as good as dead." Your mind was yelling at yourself to do something, anything as he removed the safety off the gun and rested his finger on the trigger. But nothing happened, you were frozen with your back against the door.

Alarm bells were going off in Tangerine's head. This wasn't happening, he wouldn't let it. But before he could even think about doing something he felt two arms wrap around his waist, holding him back. "I swear to god, if you don't let me go right now-"

"Then what? You wanna go out there and let yourself get killed too? I'm not losing both of ya today." With this the grip on his brother tightened.

"Goddammit Lemon, I can't just let her die." He tried to work himself out of Lemon's hold but it was no use. Lemon had more weight behind him, making it impossible for Tangerine to get loose without giving themselves away.

"She's gonna think we fuckin' abandoned her, Lem."

"Why do you think she told him she's alone, huh?"

"I don't care."

"Because she wants to protect us."

"She shouldn't have to, Lemon, I'm supposed to protect her." Tangerine was still trying to get free from his brother's arms, but his eyes were glued to you. He could see you shaking in fear, but making no move to get away. He wanted to scream at you, tell you to at least try to save yourself, but nothing came out.

Every word died on his tongue as Ludano slowly walked closer to you, the gun in his hand never once leaving your form. He leaned over you, leaving no room between the two of you, and pressed the gun against your abdomen. "Don't scream."

Tangerine trashed harder against his brother, it was now or never. But as expected it didn't work. He could see your eyes darting around the room, finally landing on his, only where Tangerine could see you through the shutters, but you couldn't see him. You couldn't see the tears already threatening to fall down from the corners of his eyes or the way he was still fighting to get to you. But as you were looking at the closet, not knowing if he would be watching, your lips curled into a small smile.

At that a tear rolled down his cheek and he stopped moving. You were about to give your life for him, but even now you were still trying to comfort him. To tell him that it's okay, that you've accepted it. It wasn't as convincing as you probably hoped it would be, given that your eyes were still laced with fear.

For a moment there was peace as Tangerine looked into your eyes. Those beautiful eyes that held his entire world.

A second later it was over.

Even though the gun had a silencer and he couldn't see the movements from how close you were standing, he could see the exact moment Ludano pulled the trigger in your eyes. There was a soft thud and your eyes went wide.

A broken scream ripped itself out of Tangerine's throat, but before it was even finished Lemon brought his hand up to cover his mouth. Where a second ago the tears were only threatening to flow over, Tangerine has now completely let go. He didn't care that his tears were rolling down his cheeks over Lemon's hand or that he couldn't stop screaming for you even though no one would be able to hear it.

As per Ludano's request you didn't scream, but tears started rolling down your face like a waterfall as well. He finally stepped away from you, leaving you with no form of support as you fell to the ground clutching your stomach with your hands. Ludano quickly cleaned his gun from any blood that might have stained and then made his way to the door. "I'll come back when you're done." Done. More like dead.

Because you were still sitting with your back against the door, he not so carefully moved you to the side before walking back downstairs. The second the door closed Tangerine ripped himself out of his brother's hold and almost broke the closet door as he rushed towards you.

He tore off his suit-jacket and crouched down next to you, replacing your blood stained hands with the jacket to stop the bleeding. God there was so much blood.

"Lemon please keep an eye out if he's coming back." They shared a look and the next moment it was just the two of you.

When he turned his attention back to you, your eyes were shut. He brought the already blood stained hand that wasn't applying pressure to the wound up to your face, cupping your cheek.

"Hey, hey look at me, you're okay, love, you're okay." he kept on repeating it, not knowing if it was for you or just to reassure himself.

"Tan?" your voice was weak and every grain of color had drained from your face. "Where-?"

You frantically start looking around you, for what though Tangerine has no idea. He holds your face a little firmer now, making sure you're focusing on him.

“Just look at me, okay? Don’t worry about anything else. It’s only you an' me.” A worried smile formed across his face.

You slowly nodded in response.

Tangerine looked down to your stomach, his jacket now almost entirely red. As he turned it around, looking for a clean spot to press to your wound, he noticed your blood had started to turn darker.

"No, no, no." The bullet must have pierced an organ.

Tangerine rips your dress around the wound, giving him a better look at it. He tells himself that it looks worse than it is, even though it doesn't quite convince him. Blood kept pouring out with seemingly no end to it, it made Tangerine sick to his stomach.

Panic started to settle in and he started to look around for anything he could use to stop the bleeding or perhaps stitch it shut, anything would be helpful right about now. You must have noticed the panic in his eyes, because suddenly his effort to stop the bleeding was paused when your hands reached for his.

"It's o-okay." There was a content smile on your face, you had accepted your fate. Tangerine however had not and was everything but content with this situation.

"No, no it's fuckin' not. You're not supposed to die."

He was supposed to die for you, to save you, protect you. Not the other way around. One job, as your partner he had one fucking job, protect you, and he had failed at that. He would have happily died knowing that you were safe. You would need time, but eventually you and Lemon would be okay, picking up your lives again.

Only now it was him that needed to get over you, knowing that he could have saved you if he just hadn't let you come on this job or if he had just fought Lemon a little bit harder. He has loved you for about 3 years now and he couldn't imagine a world without you in it anymore.

You were his world, without you there was nothing left for him.

"You were my heaven o-on earth, did you k-know that?"

"Just stop, okay? I'm going to get you out of here and you're going to be fine. No stupid goodbyes." The fact that he had no idea how he was gonna do that was abandoned in the back of his mind.

"It's not your f-fault. I-I need you to know that, I chose this-s." He could see you were in what must be incredibly pain as you pushed the words out of your mouth.

"Well that was one stupid fuckin' decision, love." Tangerine tried to joke. A slight smile formed on your face. It only lasted so long before you started coughing uncontrollably, one hand gripping your stomach as you bent forward.

"Hey, hey just don't talk, okay? Save your breath." Tangerine helped you sit back up against the wall as you slowly got your breathing back under control.

"It hurts." You croaked out against Tangerine's requests to save your breath.

"I know love, just hang in there." He didn't know what for. He couldn't call an ambulance, it would give them away instantly, but there was no way he could treat this wound himself without the right supplies. He was pretty sure even the bullet was still in there.

Tangerine was so focused he hadn't noticed that your eyes had slid shut, your head leaning backwards against the wall. If this was any other situation he would have thought she was just calmly sleeping, but his blood stained hands painfully reminded him of their current reality.

"No, no, no.. don't. Don't l-leave me alone, please." He had grown so used to having you around these past years that just the thought of waking up in your shared bed, finding your side empty over and over again scared him to death.

"Come on... wake up. Please, please wake up..." He begged, slightly shaking your shoulders in an attempt to wake you up again. Failing. Once it starts to sink in that you're not gonna wake up, Tangerine broke down.

Every emotion, every tear he had tried to hold back came rushing back up, after all he didn't have to be strong for you anymore. Act like everything is going to be okay.

As long as you were still alive he held onto the fact that everything was gonna be okay somehow. He didn't know how exactly, but it was gonna be fine and the two of you were gonna walk out of here together.

Now that was all gone, just like you.

As the tears blurred his vision Tangerine looked over at you, that faint smile still on your face. He moved over to sit next to you against the wall. After a moment he carefully laid you down in his lap, holding onto you like a lifeline.

He doesn't know how long he had been sitting there, crying over your dead body when the door opened again, Lemon walking through it.

"I'm sorry." He knew Lemon meant it. It's not as if he wanted this to happen, he only did what he thought was right. Although it would take Tangerine some time to come to terms with that.

Tangerine quickly wipes the tears from his eyes in an attempt to look stronger in his brother's eyes. "No, it's okay. I'm fine."

A moment of silence passed before Lemon spoke up again. "We can't ehm- you know."

"Yeah, no I-I know." Lemon didn't need to explain what he meant for him to understand.

Slowly he got up, making sure to carefully move your body with him. He slowly placed you back against the wall where he found you as if you had been alone the whole time. He's not particularly religious, but he thanks God for the fact that you hadn't been alone. That you had been able to spend your final moment with the person you loved instead of that fucking twat.

Girardi fucking Ludano. In that moment where he was still crouched down next to you like before, he swore to avenge you. That bastard was gonna pay for what he did and Tangerine wouldn't rest until it was done.

Finally he got up, trying to clean his bloody hands on his suit pants. The suit was ruined anyways, not just by the blood but also by the memories it now held.

"We gotta go man."

"Yeah, yeah.." It came as more of a whisper than anything else.

As much as he would have wanted to take you with them, give you a proper burial, they couldn't. Ludano would know and sooner or later he would come after the Twins. Better to just let him think you operated on your own. He took one last look at you before closing the door, leaving you behind.

A/N: Maybe next time I should kill Tangerine off to switch it up (although I don't think I can handle writing that)

Taglist: @waiting4ffng4ff @venusthepirateusthepirate @megumisbabymomma @bratdoll666 @assmaster37 @wrendermeuseless @kpopgirlbtssvt @dontknownameauthorthor @earth-elemental18ntal18 @thirstyfortangerine @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart (Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed)

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine fanfic #bullet train x reader #tangerine bullet train #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron johnson x reader #bullet train fanfic

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raayllum · 7 months

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The Coin / Moon Fam plotline: a Structural Analysis

There's been some stuff in the tags recently about people being bummed over how long the Moon Fam / coin plot line has taken, and while it's an understandable perspective (particularly with how long hiatuses can feel between seasons), when looking at TDP as one complete story... the Coin / Moon Fam plot line hasn't actually taken that long, and is one of the most consistently developed plot threads / relationships in the show - and here's why.

This meta is broken down into three subheadings labelled, "Series Layout," "Plot Relevancy," and "The Trio('s emotional arcs)".

Series Layout

First things first, the fact of the matter is that the only season that didn't continue the coin plotline at all has been S2. Every other season has had something. This is pretty unique as outside character journeys or relationship development, not much besides overarching plot carries between season to season. Callum's arc is a mage and Ezran as king is ongoing, but the coin plotline has developed more consistently per season than emphasis on Ezran and Rayla getting one-on-one scenes together (which they haven't since S2). So the official breakdown is this:

1x01-1x03: Runaan and his relationship with Rayla are developed. He is taken prisoner while she goes on the mission with the boys.

1x05: Rayla shares the backstory of her parents failing to protect the egg. This is the first and last time she talks directly about her family until S3.

1x08: The coins are introduced in relation to Aaravos and the mirror, specifically. Runaan knows something of what the mirror is. He is coined.

3x03: While Runaan is believed to be dead, it is shown to the audience that he is stuck between life and death in the Lotus pond.

3x08: We see Lain and Tiadrin. It is implied they are coined.

3x09: Viren has the coins, taunting Rayla about them. This likewise teases that her parents were coined and reminds us that Runaan is too.

4x07: We learn about the quasar diamonds, which is set up for S5. Rayla also mentions how Runaan used moon opals to create illusion spells.

4x08: Rayla offers to sacrifice her blades and explains their connection to Runaan and Ethari, and how she believes she won't ever see them again. This is pretty blatant setup for the next episode in which

4x09: Rayla tries to save and then receives the coins from Claudia. This is also when it is finally confirmed that Lain and Tiadrin were coined as well. She and Stella escape Umber Tor (this is also how Rayla learns about Stella's portal powers).

5x01: Rayla investigates the dungeons to find out what happened to Runaan / how the coins work. She finds a 'mystery human' in a 4th coin. She determines that while she wants to help her family, she can't bring herself to prioritize it while the world is still in danger and that Callum and Ezran need her.

5x02: We meet the mystery human and find out that he is Kpp'Ar, Viren's old mentor. Rayla uses Runaan's bow and Ethari's arrows (thanking the latter) to defend herself against a corrupted banther.

5x04: Rayla tells Callum the truth about the coins and her pain concerning them. He immediately wants to help her and finds a potential solution concerning the coins: quasar diamonds at the Starscraper. Callum intends to personally free them himself and risks all of their present lives to get the information.

5x05: Karim summons the Bloodmoon Huntress, Kim'Dael, to do his bidding. As we know thanks to the graphic novel of the same name, she has history with Rayla, Runaan, and Ethari.

TDP loves to set things up, add to it a little for a season, and then make it a major focus.

Think of how Claudia and Soren didn't see their dad again after 1x06 until 3x03 - that's about 14 episodes, roughly half of Arc 1! Or how nothing that Viren does in S1 or S2 affects the trio at all until his kids catch up with Callum, Ezran, and Rayla in 2x02, or his own actions until close to 3x04 and 3x08 - once again, seasons apart.

Thus, the breaks in between the Moon Fam development makes sense, even if as laid out before, Rayla's relationship with them and the coins are developed 4/5 seasons. In particular, Rayla's relationship with Runaan and Ethari are more developed and emphasized, additionally, than her relationship with her biological parents. And what's more, thanks to both the Nova Blade and the Quasar Diamonds being rumoured to be at the Starscraper, let's talk about

Plot Relevancy

As soon as we'd learned there was a fourth coin, I assumed that Kpp'Ar was imprisoned inside it, simply because 1) he's close to Viren, 2) he 'mysteriously disappears,' and 3) his name sounds like fucking copper. It is implied in the Book Two: Sky novelization that Kpp'Ar has Plot Relevant Information about Aaravos (and possibly the relic staff) as well as whatever Viren did to save Soren (and his own dark magic misdeeds).

The novelization confirms that Kpp'Ar had a box that perfectly matched the one Aaravos uses inside the mirror for the bug pal spell. Kpp'Ar is also a master of puzzles and could very well be the descendant of the Jailer, who created the now infamous puzzle of the prison, in addition to having a wide berth of magical knowledge.

This implied connection to the prison would make the most sense if Kpp'Ar gets out before Aaravos is freed, and Aaravos will have to be freed in season six. And if Kpp'Ar is getting out of his coin, then the Moon fam are also getting out of theirs before the season finale.

There's also the Kim'Dael plotline to consider. While she is a menace in S5, Janai implies that she is not at her full powers, claiming, "This is a monster you do not want unleashed." Given that Karim has the sun seed and an army, he will likely become King of Lux Aurea and able to free Kim'Dael in S6 as well. This sets up the Moon fam all working together with Rayla to defeat her in S7.

So thanks to Kpp'Ar and Kim'Dael, the Moon fam is tied to two ongoing plotlines that have to get underway sooner rather than later. They are also three of the few characters to have presumably known what the mirror was. Runaan seems to outright know something ("That mirror? You have found something worse than death") and for Lain and Tiadrin, it is implied, as it seems they stayed behind ultimately to guard the mirror > Zym's egg (given that they tried to have Hendryr take the egg with him) because they knew it falling into the wrong hands could be dangerous. This means that when the three of them do come sprawling out of the coins, they will immediately understand the stakes of Aaravos' imminent or potential release.

The "two relevant plotlines" is under the assumption as well that Callum's pursuit of Star magic in order to free them is not what ultimately leads to him 1) him being possessed (with Rayla being called upon to kill him again, generating a potential interesting conflict with Runaan) or 2) snowballs into being what releases Aaravos. In which case they'd be tethered to Three Plotlines. But in some ways, they already are, because of how Runaan in particular is going to impact each of

The Trio

or why the "Ezran short story indicating Ezran is going to have lots of big nasty feelings about Runaan's rescue and survival is the best thing that could've ever happened, thank you" section. You can read the short story here if you haven't already (and I highly recommend it).

Okay, but why is this a good thing? Well...

We know next season that Callum and Rayla are heading to the Starscraper, likely now that things with Aaravos have resolved enough and/or to get the Nova Blade because things have escalated very quickly. However, as previously discussed, while Callum might do some plot relevant snowball shit to get them out of the coins, from an emotional arc standpoint, he's more likely to struggle with Runaan once the assassin is out. As of now, Callum is wholly dedicated to helping Rayla get her parents out of the coins (as he states and reaffirms in 5x04). The fact the Starscraper also has the Nova Blade is a nice preventative bonus. But this current lack of 'big feelings' means that Rayla was our main emotional tether to how people are Feeling about the coin plotline, from a character standpoint.

Enter Ezran and his anger. Not only does it expand his character, it gives the audience another piece of emotional investment and complication in the coin plotline, even if we're still inclined to be more for freeing Runaan than not (which is where Ez may fall). And it also introduces that complication for Callum.

Rayla and Ezran, and Ezran and Callum, rarely argue. Now Ezran is going to be presumably pitted against something Callum wants to do for Rayla, being torn between the two people he loves the most, with Ezran possibly feeling betrayed by the two people he loves the most.

So now there's an emotional investment with all three of the main characters - for Ezran, his anger in contrast with his hopes for peace; for Callum, devotion to Rayla and more importantly in this vein at least, disagreement with his brother; and of course, Rayla being caught up in magic that may have a steep price to pay in order to free her family (and what Runaan may encourage her to do once he is freed, re: killing Callum).

The brothers have to resolve their conflict; Rayla has to get her family back; Runaan's responses to each of these things, and indeed being freed, opens up a lot more avenues. TDP has never taken the easy way out when it comes to character development and complicated emotion. Viren was saved from a similar fate to his former prisoner so that he could develop further - otherwise why keep a character alive? Runaan (and the others) are going to be freed by the end of S6 if not earlier than the finale by a decent margin, and have enough time to change, stumble, and grow alongside their daughter and her friends - while defeating Kim'Dael together as a family, I think. #Justformerassassinthings

Conclusion

S6 is go time and it's gonna be great, Runaan and Ethari are gonna get a good chunk of screentime together, Runaan is one of the most important driving forces within S6's setup, and they all still have places to go as characters. Thank you goodnight

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp meta #the english major strikes again #bc that's my tag for structural stuff #moon fam #analysis series #analysis #tdp runaan #like does soren mention claudia at all till they reunite in s4? no. he mentions her once in s5. she doesn't mention him at all #the show trusts early season development to carry us forward as we explore characters in different areas/dynamics #but they always circle back to what's most important

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thevagabondexpress · 2 months

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something something gangs of ketterdam something something geography

Take a look at the available maps from the Grishaverse and you'll notice something. While maps of Ravka and Shu Han and Novyi Zem are nice and interesting and pretty to look at, and the Ice Court has reasonably good description, that one map of Ketterdam? Yeah. It's rendered in so much incredibly beautiful detail that you can literally see the city's devils (see what i did there? eh?). Six of Crows, and Crooked Kingdom particularly, have a very intense love for and understanding of geography that seems to be unique in the series. Alina Starkov is ostensibly a cartographer and yet Ketterdam is the city I could confidently find my way around and probably direct tourists around as well. And when you think about it, this actually makes a lot of sense. For the Crows that live there, knowing your geography could be a matter of life and death.

I was never in a gang (thank God and my faerie godmother) but I grew up in the poorer neighborhoods of a big city so I know enough about them to know that the experience Leigh describes is pretty accurate. Among the various simplicities and complexities of group crime (major organized as well as four dudes in hoodies alike), territory is a big one. It's brought up in the books, the Crows have Fifth Harbor, it's theirs, and the Black Tips pay a hefty price for encroaching on it. Gang territories are like political borders and if members cross over from their place of residence to somebody else's, it's tantamount to an invasion. The Crows would need to know the city like the back of their hand for more than just profitable purposes and it shows in the books.

Not only that, but many of them have other personal reasons to be good at geography. Kaz is not just a gangster, he's ostensibly a king among them. He's deeply involved, he's got enemies, he's got pies. He's going to want to know who everyone is and where they are so he can stay as many steps ahead as he does. Inej grew up living a nomadic lifestyle, traveling in caravans along routes laid down by probably centuries' worth of tradition. Plus there's the Fold to worry about. Or at least there was. She would have learned navigating from her family from a young age, would've learned which towns are safe and which are not, which roads to use and to avoid. She would have then applied that knowledge to the city easily, probably near-subconsciously, once she could walk in it freely. Plus, I mean, she's getting around by rooftops, she's going to need to know more than just street signs. Meanwhile, Nina is a spy and soldier, quickly learning the lay of the land was no doubt a part of her training, and Wylan was born and raised in the city. Even living in the wealthy districts for most of his life (he wasn't in the Barrel that long before the start of the book, remember), he'd still have a native's grasp of the world around him. Jesper and Matthias are the only characters who don't have a geography connection beyond trying not to start a gang war and Matthias is the only one who genuinely wouldn't probably care. Well, I guess Kuwei probably wouldn't give much of a damn about geography either if we're counting him, but he spends most of his time in the story being shunted from one place to another by other people.

So yeah. When you think about it, geography's gonna be hella important to the Crows and it makes sense that it shows up like this in the books. Now, do I necessarily like that I could probably give Barrel breakfast restaurant recommendations to a friend? Not really, unless I'm writing fanfiction. But it's fun knowing why. Now, the mystery of why Alina isn't this geography-knowledgeable when she's literally a cartographer . . .

(tagging @tleeaves @4uru and @immortalarizona for your thoughts if you have any)

update: map:

#six of crows #shadow & bone #ketterdam geography #this really isn't an analysis post so much as it's me pointing and going “hey cool thing!”#or maybe the crows are all secretly canadian #now there's a rare joke

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silversiren1101 · 6 months

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Not-not tagged by various mutuals for this so I tried my own hand! Most of my OCs appear fully formed like Athena bursting from Zeus' head so instead I tried to dissect the subconscious inspirations that Mino could have been born from.

Aragorn: Look LOTR is the most formative piece of media in my entire life. You see a Rohirrim cavalry charge when you're like 8 and it imprints on you forever and ever, okay? Anyway, Aragorn as the natural born destined leader that spends the majority of his life denying and running from it, but has such a strong sense of duty and morality that he cannot in good conscience abandon those that need him? He steps up anyway despite how much he does not want it nor thinks he deserve it because he just can't let his companions/his love/the world fall? Mino is very Aragorn coded, lol. The destined Leader/Deity|King that embodies everything they avoid being and Do Not Want, and accepts in the end that heavy crown with duty and grace.

Jheraal: From Liane Merciel's, Hellknight! Mino already existed when I started reading this novel but a lot of Jheraal's characterization and Hellknights in general refined Mino more and more. Mino was an HK investigator only because this novel showed me that was a thing they could be, and same for the concept of Hellknight Foundlings! A lot of Jheraal's struggles being accepted and respected as a tiefling also play into Mino's own struggles as a ganzi.

Satine Kryze (-> Bo-Katan Kryze): Mino is both the Kryzes in a sense, starting off as idealist Satine that firmly and so stubbornly believes in doing things in the way she deems is right, no matter how much people fight and push against that and how difficult it is. She's clever and exceptionally diplomatic, ready to risk her own life and body to do what she thinks is right and bound by her duty to the people. Then, of course, Satine... I see a lot of what happened to Satine as Mino's own fate at the hands of House Thrune, but rather than death she instead takes on a lot more aspects of Bo-Katan.

Brigitte: Brigitte is way too cute and cool a character to be left in the cesspit that is Overwatch. Much of Brigitte's visual design has inspired Mino's, and so has the bright and peppy jock personality.

Shepard: Jaded military veteran leading a crew of people she cares so intensely about, becoming a special type of operative both bound by and outside of the law, having to deal with the mire of bureaucracy and resorting to a gun (hammer) when things must be done? Willing to do WHATEVER IT TAKES to get the mission done and save everyone? Lots of Shep in Mino.

Koby: I'm surprised I only found one anime inspiration! But Koby is my baby boy and as a long term One Piece fan, his story of wanting to be a Marine (which from the onset in OP the audience is pointed to see as 'the antagonists') and actually do real good and be a champion for justice in the people even in spite of seeing nothing but corruption from them thus far speaks a lot of how I view fantasy law enforcement and characters like that. Mino wanting to be a Hellknight and seeing it as her calling mirrors a lot of Koby's own ideals with the Marines, and both spend their years in each respective organizing emerging powerful, confident, successful in their dreams, and with a huge glow-up (lol).

#ask meme #ask game #oc: minovae arangeir #character inspiration

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terramythos · 3 months

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TAYLOR READS 2023: SYSTEM COLLAPSE BY MARTHA WELLS

Title: System Collapse (The Murderbot Diaries #7) (2023)

Author: Martha Wells

Genre/Tags: Science Fiction, First Person, Agender Protagonist

Rating: 9/10

Date Began: 11/19/2023

Date Finished: 12/31/2023

In the aftermath of the alien contamination incident of the Adamantite colony, Murderbot and its humans face a new challenge. Barish-Estranza, a major corporation, seeks to claim the planet and its inhabitants as salvage, which would doom the colonists to contract slavery. To save them from this fate, the non-corporate humans must find a way to convince the colonists to trust them and reject Barish-Estranza’s offer.

But after a nervous breakdown, Murderbot has problems of its own. Unable to trust its own judgment, Murderbot must come to terms with its distressingly human response to the traumatic events of Network Effect— all while keeping its humans from accidentally killing themselves in the cutthroat political climate Barish-Estranza brings to the Adamantite colony.

“On the team feed, Ratthi asked, Can we come down and help you, SecUnit? No, I told him. He hadn’t asked me what I was doing, probably because he was afraid I didn’t know. Which, valid, but this time I actually did know. I continued around the edge, because if I was right, the first one would be directly attached to the pad. If it wasn’t here, I was going to look incredibly fucking stupid and the humans were going to assume because of redacted I— Oh, here it is.”

For live reading notes, check the reblogs (contains unmarked spoilers).

Content warnings and review (spoiler-free and spoiler versions) under the cut.

Content Warnings: Mentioned -- Murder, torture, sexual slavery. Depicted -- Slavery, PTSD, self-hatred, emotional manipulation, dehumanization, violence, gore (kinda), death (implied)

**SPOILER-FREE REVIEW**

This section is spoiler free for System Collapse, but not The Murderbot Diaries as a whole, so please keep that in mind!

I've consistently enjoyed The Murderbot Diaries throughout its run. The strikingly relatable narration Murderbot supplies makes the books approachable and entertaining to read, despite often delving into disturbing and dark subject matter like slavery, depression, and anxiety. The book chronologically preceding this one, Network Effect, is one of my favorite novels of all time. While System Collapse doesn't reach those heights (and it doesn't need to), it's yet another story following Murderbot's adventures and struggles with personhood, so I predictably liked it.

System Collapse occupies a more transitional space than previous entries. We end the novel in much the same place as in Network Effect, literally and metaphorically. Murderbot makes the same decision it does at the end of Network Effect; to leave its Preservation humans and travel with ART and its crew instead. I question whether System Collapse was originally planned when Network Effect was written; as a story, it feels tacked onto that entry. It's just more of that book-- a continuation of some loose threads from it.

However, this isn't a criticism, at least not yet, because despite feeling similar to Network Effect, System Collapse introduces critical character development in order for the next arc, which I imagine will focus more on ART and the University, to succeed. I'll get into more detail about that in the spoiler section, but I have no problem with a break from the extreme high stakes tension of Network Effect to spend time developing various characters, including Murderbot itself, especially going into the next story arc.

**SPOILER REVIEW**

By far System Collapse's greatest strength is how it addresses Murderbot's trauma post-Network Effect. If I'm right and this entry wasn't originally planned, I'm glad Martha Wells decided to write it anyway, because leaving the long term effects of what Murderbot went through in the air and unaddressed would be a disservice to Murderbot as a character and readers who have undergone similarly traumatic experiences.

In particular, Murderbot experiences a realistic depiction of PTSD, something it's disturbed by and ashamed about. System Collapse can often be a brutal read because Murderbot is so hard on itself, seeing itself as an incompetent failure for having a reasonable reaction to trauma. It hearkens back to earlier points in the series where Murderbot didn't really see itself as a person, something that has gradually changed over time. But one thing that sticks out to me is a heavier thematic focus on Murderbot's humanity.

Murderbot itself is a construct-- a combination of machinery and cloned human material. We know it has a human face, human neural tissue, and some organic body parts, but the series to this point has focused on Murderbot's PERSONHOOD rather than its HUMANITY, which are separate things in this series. Murderbot itself doesn't identify as human, usually avoiding the association and approaching the world as a machine would. So after Murderbot suffers its PTSD episode, when ART says “this affects the part of you that is human," and Murderbot doesn’t outright deny that assertion, it's VERY striking to a long time reader. Murderbot's human aspects have to this point been depicted as a nuisance, something Murderbot feels neutral about at best and dislikes at worst.

System Collapse makes a direct connection between a fundamental aspect of Murderbot's character and this idea of humanity. It's something that seems obvious in retrospect but as far as I know is the first time the narrative directly addresses it. Murderbot LOVES the TV show The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. As an autistic-coded character, Murderbot's primary special interest IS Sanctuary Moon (and the concept of human media as a whole). It watches favorite episodes of this space soap opera to comfort itself when it feels stressed or overwhelmed. One reason Murderbot cites for not hating humans despite what they've done to it, even before meeting humans it likes, is their ability to create media.

Yet when we meet ART in the second book, a space ship bot with greater than human intelligence, it doesn't understand the emotional aspect of media at all. It needs to watch TV shows by seeing the reactions of others to get full context. One of the ways ART and Murderbot initially bond is through watching shows together like this. Murderbot cites "human neural tissue" as a requirement for fully understanding media. Yet here in System Collapse that same neural tissue causes major problems for Murderbot— the trauma response.

One connection System Collapse makes to Sanctuary Moon and why it's so important to Murderbot is that, after hacking its governor module pre-series, Murderbot used Sanctuary Moon to heal and rewire its brain. Murderbot has always had some human aspect to it, whether it likes to acknowledge this or not. And one of the things most precious to it is something it would not be able to fully understand or appreciate otherwise. So Murderbot has to grapple with both positive and negative aspects to, as ART identifies (correctly, I feel), its humanity. I was hesitant about this framing at first, as the series to this point has avoided addressing this so directly. But on reflection I REALLY like it, and am interested to see how the next entry expands upon this.

Beyond Murderbot itself we do get development of some newer characters. Iris, ART’s favorite human, made an appearance in the last book, but gets a lot more screen time in System Collapse. We get a sense of her self doubt, but willingness to do what is right in the face of danger. Another character I really enjoy is Tarik. I honestly can't remember if he made more than a passing appearance in Network Effect. But System Collapse develops him as a human foil to Murderbot; he was part of a corporate death squad and broke free, has trauma associated with that, is the newest member of ART'S crew, and is quietly a badass as like, a background detail, which is pretty funny. With the book's greater focus on humanity and how it relates to Murderbot, I think a character like this has a lot of potential and I'm excited to see where that goes.

Slavery and self-determination are core themes of the series, and we continue with that trend in System Collapse. Barish-Estranza are the primary antagonists and seek to enslave the surviving colonists of Admantine in everything but name, and the conflict focuses on finding a way to convince said colonists to establish themselves as an independent entity to escape that fate. While I don't think it's the most poignant exploration of these ideas in the series, it is nice to see the consistency of The Murderbot Diaries' anti-slavery message and the variety of ways it's explored throughout.

Another overarching plot thread gets expanded upon in this entry-- that of free constructs besides Murderbot. Murderbot encounters a "ComfortUnit" (a cutesy name for a sex slave) earlier in the series and frees it, and we still don't know where it went or what it has done since then. In Network Effect Murderbot frees another SecUnit which it calls "Three", who is a minor character in this entry. During the story of System Collapse Murderbot frees two other SecUnits owned by Barish-Estranza, one of whom helps them during the climax. It's implied this Unit will do what Murderbot initially did and pretend it's still under the governor module's control while continuing to do its job.

So my question is, when does this part of the story all come together? The slavery of constructs is arguably THE conflict of the series. Murderbot has given various constructs the means to disable their governor modules and free themselves throughout the series. Presumably this could cause a chain reaction over time as other constructs free each other. Is this the endgame of the series? I don't know, but I'm excited to find out.

**CONCLUSION**

As always I greatly enjoyed System Collapse and highly recommend the entirety of The Murderbot Diaries. It's one of my favorite series ever and if you haven't read them yet… DO IT! I would not consider System Collapse the best entry in the series (it's hard to beat Network Effect) but it provides compelling character development and food for thought regarding the next story arc of the series.

#taylor reads #book review #9/10 #ok putting this as a book i read in 2023 felt weird but. like it's technically true.

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madefate · 22 days

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hi welcome to me thinking too hard about a fictional character, blitz & ozzie's well, apparently all of season one now edition

i've been doing a pretty deliberate rewatch because it's really easy for me to jump the gun on things timeline wise & conflate where a character winds up, growth wise, with where they are at any given point in the timeline. & i want to do my characterization of blitz justice, of course, but i'm also just fascinated by why he acts the way he does, and boy oh boy is his character arc in season one almost entirely about loneliness.

( also, keep in mind that despite this taking place in hell, no characters actually act with malicious intent, & blitz is an unreliable narrator w/ communication issues ! no character bashing here, just examination. )

o1. murder family

we're introduced to the infamous deal ! which we know, we know, but some things to note that really inform blitz's mindset, and also just some interesting details:

stolas presents this transactionally. generously, sure, but transactionally, & blitz agrees to it transactionally. i will never call this coercion - it's just a deal with actually very clear terms.

the connotation of the whole arrangement, though, is a little condescending. that's kind of the nature of their relationship - blitz bitches at stolas, stolas patronizes blitz, and this feels like a familiar status quo. ( yes, personally i believe this is literally where the miscommunication starts, especially with the context of season two ! it feels obvious to me that this is stolas taking a page out of a romance novel & treating it like foreplay - it's just that blitz doesn't know that! )

the context of blitz talking over this deal while he's in mortal peril and doesn't know where his employees are, or if they're still alive, i think provides some reinforcement for his own feeling that he, himself, doesn't matter. it's easier to call this a business deal than actually communicate that the bad time is, like, imminent death of the people he's in charge of.

this episode establishes the entire season one pattern of stolas continuously referring to blitz as an imp, impish, a thing that's owned, or a thing in general - which does come up & isn't played entirely for laughs.

i think the dirty talking, though, is meant to be played for laughs, so we'll leave that as a joke.

the other major theme of this episode is moxxie's crisis about this being the murder of a mom and the destruction of a family - which is vitally important to BOTH his & blitz's characterizations and backgrounds.

& oh no, the boy is on fire. again. at least this time it doesn't hurt!

a very small moment that does grow: moxxie & millie have each other! they have someone who prioritizes them - which is played a little for laughs here, but we know that it canonically does bother blitz.

o2. loo loo land

DOES ANYONE LOVE YOU, BLITZO ??

hi there, first of two episodes in a row that are literally just bad memory after bad memory !

blitz makes it clear from the get go that he does not do bodyguard work. but, of course, he needs the money & wants the money and so, here he is! making bad choices for himself yet again. obviously, the bitching at / condescending to nature of his & stolas' relationship continues, & we get a few key nuggets of characterization:

blitz takes ❛ first shift ❜ watching stolas - and never actually tags M&M in at all. they only take over when the fire starts & blitz is having his trauma war with a fucking fizz bot, but otherwise he, importantly, tells them to have fun, and is actually seen taking his job super seriously - this comes up again in his flashback with fizz & his guarding of fizz during the mammon special ! so it's pretty clear that guarding someone is something he takes a lot more seriously than killing humans, which makes sense given everything he's been through.

i don't need to elaborate - facing a fizzbot is one of the worst things that could happen to him, ever. it's eclipsed only by seeing barbie, fizz himself, or confronting anything about his mother.

the question of does anyone love you ? and the eventual flip of it, do you love anyone ? is going to continue through the rest of the season

o3. spring broken

personally, i think verosika & blitz had the most toxic fucking relationship, and i don't think it was one sided. i wouldn't be surprised if there was more miscommunication here - i do believe that verosika had real feelings for blitz, that he did too, and that he self destructed the relationship when he realized that. but i also believe that verosika's apparent defense mechanism of being extremely flippant and dismissive hit blitz's buttons exactly.

his biggest fear, we see, is being rejected, and i think it was this unfortunate clash of neither of them letting their real feelings show, blitz feeling blown off, and then destroying the whole relationship when he was desperate for it to be over and the bridge to burn.

so, yeah, this fucking blows. this is contemptuous, and it's fairly obvious that verosika is taking the chance to rub salt in the wound with taking over his space - and he's throwing it right back by challenging her. which would probably be easier to deal with if he hasn't spent weeks basically having his negative self image reinforced at every turn.

which is why he latches so hard onto loona. it's very clear that loona is still working through her own abandonment trauma, and that blitz is usually fairly good about being affectionate and supportive while letting her lashing out roll off his back because FUCK does he understand that.

but he goes in way too hard with the protective thing - he's terrified of what could happen to her in the human world, and he doesn't have the greatest impression of romantic interests in general so he projects hard when he sees her start to fall for tex (something that he doesn't seem to worry about in later episodes, which makes this seem like an anomaly). but she's ALREADY dealing with the normal insecurity of having a crush and her own social anxiety.

so, of course, she blows up.

one of the MOST TELLING LINES in the entire series is "because i adopted you! that should mean something!" this, to me, is the thesis of how blitz interacts with the world: you're either a stranger or you're a family and there's no in between. that's the boundary crossing that happens with M&M all the time - that desperate need to be a family with them. that's what he has with loona: he clings to being her father, because it's, in his mind, the best thing he's done with his life. and of course he goes overboard, and of course loona lashes out, and of course so does he -

and it just, kind of never gets resolved.

but, he'll get over it. he always does.

o5. the harvest moon festival

that's STRIKER, sir!

i think this is, by far, the most interesting breakdown between stolas & blitz and it's so subtle. as a standalone, it really does seem like blitz is simply incredibly grumpy whenever stolas talks to him in wrath, but it's not that simple. looloo land may have been a public outing, but blitz was clearly and absolutely working. the harvest moon festival was posed as a social outing, and he's not on the job at all.

so when he reacts to the nickname blitzy, he's irritated at being condescended to in public when he's not being paid for it. to him, it feels more mocking and purposeful than it ever had, and it's clear that the only times the attention bothers him is when it's - to him - patronizing (even if it's just meant to be teasing!)

then, there's striker (sir). to my knowledge, striker is the first person who pays blitz any semblance of actual respect / admiration in the series, which is something that lights him up immediately. he may feel worthless most of the time, but he's proud of the business he built, and to be working with M&M - employing only imps and a hellhound, likely one of the few, if any, businesses in hell that actually does so - according to striker. what he did was rare and flies in the face of hell's socioeconomic hierarchy, and his mood is noticeably lifted the entire day.

he gets to do things he loves! he gets to play in the pain games, he has a good bonding moment with loona, he got to meet millie's family - fuck, he thought he was making, if not a friend, a work acquaintance - which is a big deal when we know he conflates work with family.

so when the betrayal hits? it hits HARD on EVERY LEVEL. blitz opened up to someone new for the first time ever on screen that we've seen - and striker attacked his employees and tried to kill his business partner. and thought that blitz would want to join him - so what does that say about blitz ? is he like that - he's certainly bitter, he's certainly been kicked around by society, he was charmed by a snake in the grass.

and striker's words don't go away, because, until this point in the series, he's not fucking wrong. the one who treats you like a plaything - is stolas genuinely just fucking around with him? is this all a game - he's so fucking flippant, so is their back and forth of bitching and patronizing not just ... their thing? is he being used ?

& then blitz lets him get away - fails to do his job when he has a weapon that can kill demon royalty in his possession, and blitz - failed.

o6. truth seekers

are you afraid to love people, blitzy ?

there's literally so much here in this episode that i'm speeding through a greatest hits, because we KNOW that we have canon confirmation that blitz pushes people and pushes them away until they prove him right and leave, thanks moxx:

even if blitz WASN'T coming off his failure with striker, he'd be just as protective of moxxie throughout this entire episode. he consistently shields moxxie, makes loona close the portal on them, and watches moxxie the entire time he's still knocked out. family is serious business.

uh oh ! the humans got them ! failed again - that twice in a row now, bud?

this is where those easter eggs of blitz third wheeling M&M comes in - that little truth gas outburst is such a major clue for just how lonely he is. he knows, logically, that he's taking it too far with them - that he's bitter and jealous, but he has no idea what to do with that because the only solution is, uh, letting someone in?? are you NUTS ??

his gas induced fight with moxxie DID hurt them both! both what he'd heard and what he'd revealed - blitz spends so much energy locking away his true feelings that it's like being raked over the coals to have them forcibly dredged up, against either of their wills.

okay, alright, the dream. i'm not even going to dissect it - i just think it's Neat™ that the ghosts that haunt him are his major failures: striker, the most recent; fizz, the oldest; verosika, freshly on his mind and direct contrast to stolas.

(a fun small thing that drives the knife in is blitz's aggravation with moxxie's intellectualism, rubbing the old wound of being seen as stupid or uneducated himself.)

i don't know! eventually everyone goes ! / 'cause you're thoughtless and cruel and you'll end up alone !

you're gonna die alone, blitzo !

you TRIED the solo act - it didn't work out so well / but you don't WANT to do things alone, blitzo

we see it spelled out: blitz is constantly fighting against that instinct to push everyone away, while always craving that closeness - love, someone to spend the rest of his life with. a family that stays. the fear that he will absolutely destroy them so better to fuck it up NOW and send them packing before he can really do some damage.

right now, the closest thing he has to consistent intimacy is stolas. it's stolas he runs to in order to escape the ghosts of his past - but when he realizes that, he needs a fucking leash to let himself crawl the rest of the way. he needs the illusion of no choice - fuck, even the illusion of someone wanting him badly enough to pull on the other end.

are you afraid to love people, blitzy?

absolutely yes. he's his own worst enemy - the only actual constant companion he has, and boy is he sick of himself.

blitz's brain: a currently on fire dumpster

we learn that blitz is capable of being more than physically available - he's been emotionally available for moxxie in the past, and he's emotionally available here, too. all it took was weeks of failure, hours of interrogation, and a REALLY bad trip.

honestly, by the time the girls show up, both of the dumbass twins are ready to just FUCK THESE HUMANS UP. it's been a long day, a long week, a long life, and why not just fall back into their core competencies.

you know my name. use it. thanks blitz. names are so, so humanizing. he just wants to know that his friend - his best friend, let's be real - is okay.

so ... the impish little plaything, huh. honestly, it wouldn't sit as badly if blitz hadn't just had the emotional whiplash of being captured by HUMANS of all stupid things, but then a moment of true competency with his team - and then back into the dread of failure, this time with millie and his daughter at risk, too.

breaking into the facility and getting them home seemed like child's play for stolas. in fact, he's a real demon, apparently. so, what does that make blitz?

exhausted. honestly, after they fuck that night, blitz passes the fuck out.

fuck, he hates needing help.

i also have a fun pet theory that One and Two have a recording of either the wonder twins' hallucinations, or them babbling about said hallucinations.

o7. ozzie's

ah yes, the culmination. he gave it all for a thrust, didn't he.

the sheer desperation of fucking following M&M on their goddamn anniversary. he's not even TRYING to self destruct that relationship - he's just endangering it out of abject loneliness and bitterness.

he's completely unreceptive to stolas' changed behavior - his seeming genuine interest in him, his dropping of all the patronizing and teasing, his actual happiness at being out together. that wall he's placed himself behind is practically impenetrable at this point - there's just been too much shit and they haven't talked enough at all, so there is no part of him that assumes that stolas' affection is in any way sincere.

so, he almost expects the rejection. isn't that exactly what moxxie said? you push people away until they leave - and it takes two to tango, here, of course, but that is the mindset he's in in the aftermath of ozzie's. even if it's unfair, or even if it's just confused or naive or hopeful, blitz thought - maybe, just maybe, he might have at least an ally in stolas.

instead, he got a menu. and blitz bitterly proved himself right.

so he can't see stolas' genuine attempts to reach out in the aftermath for what they are. he's not going to until he starts actually trying to take those walls down - opening himself up to the possibility of trusting someone else. fuck, trying to trust himself. right now, all he can do is look this kindness in the eye, call its bluff (the one he imagines exists), and drive away.

because, fuck, he's going to die alone, isn't he. and that's on him.

#hh tw #( blitz hc. )#why the FUCK did i spend all day writing this !!! i don't know !!!#i'm comfort character-ing i guess !!

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satashiiwrites · 5 months

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Snippet Sunday

I know I’ve been mentioned by a couple of people for a snippet sunday/wip wednesday and other writing things but have been a bit preoccupied by my RT/Nano project (@rosieposiepuddingnpie @outtoshatter and possibly more). Thanks for the tags lovelies—I’m starting to go through my inbox this weekend while procrastinating writing (30k out of 50k down).

Tagging @monsterrae1 @tkwritesdumbassassins @whimsyswastry @outtoshatter @rosieposiepuddingnpie @missanniewhimsy @westernlarch and anyone else who wants to play along.

From my NaNo:

Title:Choices and Regret, Chapter One: Are You Happy With Your Life?

Fandom: 911, Dark Matter (Blake Crouch novel, upcoming tv series)

Pairings: Buddie, other canon pairings

Fic summary:

If you could go back and change the choices in your life, would you? Would you love the same people, go on the same vacations, have the same career? Or would you have regrets?

After the lightning strike, an unexpected visitor makes Buck question all the choices he’s ever made. From dropping out of the Seals to never making a move on Eddie because the time hasn’t been right. He’s going to get an up close and personal look at what could have been because another version of Buck is focused on taking his choices away from him—including Eddie and Christopher Diaz.

Tags/warnings: this is a thriller/love story/science fiction. Major character death will occur and there’s a huge element of identity fraud as not everyone is the version of themselves that we think they are. Multiple universes and butterfly effect. Kidnapping, nonconsensual drug use (ie knockout drugs) and dubious consent because of the identity fraud. That being said, I would point out that this author believes in satisfactory/mostly happy endings. This is from the first draft yeeted to RT.

Buck being hit by lightning isn’t what changes things for them. The trauma of having Buck’s heart stop for three minutes and seventeen seconds had caused them both to spend an inordinate amount of time navel-gazing and thinking about their life. Still, it wasn’t the event that caused the unacknowledged friendship stalemate they’d dug themselves into. Both of them are too afraid of losing the other to recognize that the most important person in their lives other than their kid is each other.

It’s not pining if you don’t admit to it, right? You can be so willfully blind to what’s in front of you that you make choices that seem bizarre in retrospect and have your friends and family doubting your mental capacity. Buck has been clinging to Eddie, looking first to him for so long that he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, much to the frustration of everyone around him.

Eddie though…. Eddie knows he loves Buck with everything in his soul. Thanks, Frank, for dragging that truth out after he hit rock bottom and could only cling to Buck as his emotions tossed him about like a ship in a hurricane, and Buck is the anchor of his sanity. He knows that he’ll ruin the best relationship he’s ever had by wanting too much and needing too much, despite his therapist constantly giving him judgmental looks for declining to talk to Buck about his feelings.

He’ll take whatever Buck can give him, which must be enough. It’s enough to have Buck in his life, and he can’t risk that—not when he also has Christopher to think of.

The night the balance tips and sets off the avalanche of cascading consequences is just another Tuesday night dinner together at the Diaz house.

The thing about avalanches? The warning signs can all be there, but it only takes seconds to set it off by accident, and you never know when it will happen.

When is enough, enough?

Or, does someone set it off on purpose, wanting to change the status quo?

“When’s dinner going to be ready? Chris is almost done with his homework,” Buck asks as he slides into the kitchen, where Eddie is absently stirring a pot with one hand while setting a timer on the oven.

“I’ve still got an hour on the roast,” Eddie warns, tossing a kitchen towel over his shoulder. “You’ve got time for a game or two.”

“You don’t want to join us?” Buck frowns.

“I’m almost done with prepping the pie,” Eddie points to the pie crust carefully laid into the tin filled with tart cherries that he’d gotten from the farmers market on his last weekend off. Buck had accompanied the Diaz boys as he wasn’t yet back to work, and they’d made a morning of it going around to the various stands and sampling everything from fresh goat’s cheese to the spicy marinades that Eddie and Buck were both addicted to and couldn’t quite figure out how to make themselves at home.

Buck hums indecisively, eyeing the texts on his phone from Connor inviting him out to drinks tonight. He knows he should show up and shake Connor’s hand that he managed to get Cameron pregnant without him, but after being in the hospital and everything, it just feels like another disappointment that he couldn’t help them conceive after he’d donated once, and it hadn’t worked.

“Buck? You in there?” Eddie waves his hand in front of Buck’s face playfully. His best friend is smiling at him, but he’s got that wrinkle between his eyebrows that says Eddie’s noticed his distraction and is worried.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, putting his phone back in his pocket.

Wiping his hands, Eddie doesn’t go back to finishing his pie. “Is something going on?”

“It’s nothing—“

“It’s something. You keep looking at your phone and chewing on your lip, which will bruise if you keep at it. What’s wrong?”

Buck hasn’t really talked with Eddie about the sperm donation thing. Avoided it, really. He’d chosen to talk about it with Hen mostly. When the whole story came tumbling out, Eddie was noticeably silent, which means he probably has a lot to say about it but isn’t saying it—adding it to the list of things they don’t talk about, along with the shooting and Buck’s breakup with Taylor.

“Buck?” Eddie presses, voice soft and husky as his hand lands warm and heavy on Buck’s shoulder with a squeeze, the thumb slotting into the groove between muscle and bone to rub soothingly. For a moment, Buck leans into it, taking the offered comfort. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Connor invited me out for drinks with a few friends. To celebrate.”

Eddie’s face is carefully neutral, and he doesn’t let Buck go, his fingers curling more firmly into the muscle and pulling Buck toward him so there’s less room between them, glancing out the kitchen door, checking that they’re still alone. “You told Hen they didn’t need you to donate anymore?”

It goes unsaid that Buck hasn’t been telling Eddie anything about this—he’s only found out by overhearing things and station gossip.

Buck wants to curl into Eddie, but he doesn’t. This is his failure, and he knows Eddie doesn’t like that he agreed in the first place. “Yeah. They got lucky, I guess.”

Eddie frowns, his thumb still stroking Buck’s shoulder maddeningly, dragging the knit fabric of the henley back and forth. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to help them.”

Blinking, Buck moves just enough to make Eddie let him go, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, they wanted a baby.”

“Yeah, but—“

“So they got pregnant the normal way,” he says defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there isn’t,” Eddie agrees, hesitating before continuing.”But you were doing them a huge favor.”

Buck shrugs and deflects. His ‘favor’ is not needed, so it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter or get to help, and that should have been the end of it. “I’m not needed anymore. He’s going to be a dad.”

“Do you want to meet Connor for drinks?”

Eddie’s eyes are serious as they bore into Buck, making him want to squirm. He can’t hide anything from Eddie when he’s paying attention like this, and he’d hoped he’d just spend a nice quiet evening in with Eddie and Chris and conveniently forget about the invitation from Connor.

“Buck,” Eddie repeats, “do you want to meet Connor for drinks?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” He asks, pained.

“Only if you want to,” Eddie soothes, attempting to reach for him again, but Buck moves out of the way and starts to pace. “You have time to go for one drink and still be back for dinner.”

“That’s because you got started ridiculously late,” Buck argues, knowing that Eddie picked this slow cooker recipe because his friends from dispatch were all raving about it. Buck had piled on, said it sounded interesting, and had been invited over to try it.

“Still, if you want, you have time. You could even pick up some ice cream for the pie later,” Eddie adds, motioning towards the almost-ready-for-the-oven pie.

“A la mode cherry pie…I do like your pie experiments.”

“You didn’t use to,” Eddie admits, cheeks pinking adorably. Buck loves that Eddie’s gotten more confident in his skills and is trying more complicated recipes that don’t have to come from him or Bobby. “You have time—you should go. Shake his hand, say congratulations, and then you’ll be done with them unless you choose to engage.”

Eddie makes it sound so simple, like he can just forget that he almost got to be a dad, something Buck wants more than anything but isn’t. He’s not anyone’s dad—not like Eddie is with Chris, Chim is with Jee or even Bobby with May and Harry.

He can’t get any woman to stay with him long enough to consider kids, and nobody is promised tomorrow. Buck’s getting older, and everyone else seems to be settling down or already has kids like Eddie. He’s the only single guy with no partner or kids, and it sucks.

Even if he had helped Connor and Cameron conceive… he still wouldn’t have been the kid’s dad in the ways he yearned for.

“Buck?” Eddie’s worried call of his name cuts through his circuitous thoughts.

“Sorry. Yeah? Maybe I’ll have one drink and then cut out. I’ll be back probably before the roast is done,” Buck babbles, feeling his pockets for the keys to his jeep.

He’s halfway out the door when Eddie calls after him, “Don’t forget the ice cream! The old-fashioned vanilla!”

“I won’t. I’ll be home for supper,” he promises Eddie, calling out a ‘be back later’ to Christopher as he all but runs out the door.

He doesn’t mean to break his promise.

#Choices and regrets #911 #buddie #NaNoWriMo project #snippet sunday #First draft

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capuletangel · 2 years

Text

Slow Like Honey

Word Count: 3377

Story Summary: Ben Solo falls into a deep obsession with the local new baker, and Ben always gets what he wants.

Tags: DEAD DOVE; Stalking, Obsession, Creepy Ben Solo, Non-Con, Bittersweet Fluff, Misogyny, Major Character Death, Dark Themes, Violence and Eventual Smut. AFAB.

Also Posted To AO3 | Wattpad

Masterlist

A/N - Trying to pop out as many chapters as I can before I go to University in September… wish me luck. (Kinda weird mentioning Christmas in August… but anyway hope you like this chapter!) <3

Chapter Seven; Ain’t I Good To You

Ben had never been a morning person. Repeatedly waking up in a mood, because of his stiff bed and scratchy sheets, or the sound of his mother thumping on the hardwood floors.

He'd grimace, shift over and clamp his teeth together to get his temper under control; it never worked.

The worst pain of all was waking up alone, when he could have been curled up with her. The right side of his bed was cold and barren, and had been for too long seeing by the dip on his side of the bed.

He had a flat pillow on his side of the bed and a plump, fresh one on the other.

The realisation had his heart sinking with a peculiar feeling. Like someone was holding it, and not letting it go.

There's nothing that matters to him in those moments, except her. Wicked thoughts would tempt him with their bitter sweet graces, but Ben knew it wasn't right.

So he fought them, for months and months, grinding, fighting for her. So that she could see who he was. How kind he was. He never did it in his previous relationships, always pushed too hard or moved too fast and it scared them — drove them away — yet they never got far.

Ben has learnt from his mistakes, like a true, good man does, and his persistence has been honoured with the ultimate trophy.

Her.

She's coiled around him, intertwined with him. Limbs enmeshed together, so she can draw him closer, her face is pressed into Ben's chest, breathing in his essence like he is the only person who matters — the only man she needs.

Ben's chin is tucked on the top of her head, keeping her safe, and Ben has never felt so free.

Her sheets aren't scratchy or aggravating, the mattress soft enough for him to lie open and still be comfortable, and Ben is far from alone.

She stirs, sighing and stretching as she wakes, body shuddering against his. Head delving further into him, which Ben takes with overwhelming pride, gloating to himself. Her breathing hitches and he untucks his chin to see what she looks like.

Her hair is laid out across the pillow in an unruly manner, eyes flickering open — puffy from slumber, and her face is already flushed. For him. She glances up at him through her eyelashes and Ben waits for her to speak.

"Hello."

Ben's face split into a grin, muffling laughter at the soothing murmur of her voice, husky with sleep. Her eyebrows furrowed, vision focusing at the top of his head. "What? What is it?"

Her hand detached from his shirt and she moved backwards to get a better view of him and whatever she was staring at.

Ben could have whimpered from the loss of contact, wanting to fasten his arm around her waist and draw her back in.

"Your hair is a mess." She reached up, moving her hand through his hair with a touch so delicate and tentative it made a shiver erupt down his spine.

"Speak for yourself, kid." Ben's voice didn't come out nearly as strong as he intended it to, suppressed by the power she had over him.

Each piece of hair she smoothed down had his breath slowing and heart thumping. Eyes fluttering as she continues, even though he’s sure she doesn’t need to, scalp tickling with a pleasure that made his loins constrict.

Her nurturing touch that he’d dreamt of for so long. He was watching through heavy eyes as she pulled away. She propped herself up on her elbows, smoothing a hand over her own hair, and gazed past Ben.

Her tongue pressed against her cheek, mouth twitching with what Ben assumed was hesitation. She settled her sights back onto him and smiled. Ben thought he might melt right there.

“Thank you for last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“The-The thunder. It seems stupid for a grown woman to be afraid of a storm... but we don’t really get them in Seattle, despite all the rain. I’ve never... coped well with them. So, thank you. For being nice. N-Not like you’re not normally nice, you are but-“

Ben cut her off of her rambling, with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I would never judge you. You can always be open with me, you know?”

Her gaze softened, listening to his words with parted lips, watching him with equal admiration.

Her eyes flickered down to his lips and Ben certainly didn’t miss the linger of her gaze, the seduction. This is what she wanted, someone to hold her with care, listen to her and understand her completely, without judgement. Ben would — he does.

Ben knows her, knows just what she wants, and he was going to give it to her.

The tension was penetrable, thickening the air and making it hard to breathe. He rolled his tongue over his teeth, tempted to let impatience get the better of him and press their mouths together, lust begging to take charge of Ben’s mind.

To take her even if she didn’t want it. Listen to her squeal in surprise and flinch as Ben would memorise the feeling of her soft lips against his own, feel her quivering breath.

Patience.

Ben fought against himself, knowing it’d be worth it. In the long run.

He didn’t want to ruin what they had — ruin this. He wanted this to go on forever, have her safe in his embrace, have her pressed against him because she wanted to be there. Because she wanted him.

Have her see exactly who he was. Have her see what he can do. A man willing to lose it all, just so he had her. He’d help her. Has helped her.

But moments like this were hard. The first of many. The fact he could test her limits — but good things didn’t come effortlessly. Not for people like him. True romantics. He’d seen it before. In literature and film. Ben was just one of those guys.

She liked that about him. He’d seen it.

It felt like minutes, if not an hour, as time moved at a painfully tedious pace.

To Ben’s chagrin, her eyes shifted and so did she, pulling herself upright against the headboard.

The blush which travelled down to her neck told Ben he wasn’t delusional about her feelings, but it didn’t make the ache in his chest dissipate any quicker.

“Thank you... It means a lot.” Her eyes darted around her apartment, avoiding eye contact with him, picking at the quilt between her fingers.

Ben couldn’t help but pout, wondering if it was him who should have made the move, if he should’ve followed through with his thoughts, if he should’ve acted. But she didn’t seem like the type to enjoy that. Ben needed to give her the control, at first.

He couldn’t scare her away. Not when he’d gotten so far.

“Of course.”

She returned his stare once again, but shifted her sight back and forth to his eyes and to the lamp next to him. “Do you have work today?”

No. But he had a problem to take care of.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” He stretched his hands out past his head, pleased with how she looked at his muscles. Ranch work had its benefits. “You?”

“Yeah — oh!”

The raise in volume from her usual tone made Ben flinch, watching as she hopped out of bed and padded over to the kitchen, staring at the calendar tied to the window handle. He wanted to drag her back.

“It’s the twenty-third. Christmas eve tomorrow... I forgot — well, until just now.”

Christmas. Ben’s mind was so fogged up with her, he barely remembered the month they were in. He wasn't doing anything, he never had. Not since he was a child. It’d be a celebration though, he’d make sure of it.

“Are you doing anything nice?”

He could see something circled in red on the calendar — he wondered if she’d spend time with him if he asked. If she’d like that. He’d make it special for her, get her gifts and cook for her. She’d blush and smile. Ben would make sure it was perfect. Just for her.

“Um, just festive bits for the bakery today and tomorrow, but I’m going to the hospice to see dad on Christmas day.”

His heart shrank. Of course, she wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with him. She had a family — people mattered to her. Ben couldn’t relate. Didn’t want to. Not when he had her; she was the only person he needed. Ben would teach her that. She’d see.

Ben didn’t miss how her eyes would glaze over at the mention of her father, how her voice would disconnect from his words, like she had to hide her feelings from Ben. She’d learn that she didn’t have to.

“You can take the Galette home, if you want?”

“You’re sure?” He watched her as she packed it away into a box.

“Mhm, I made it for you.”

Just for him.

The words made his inside swell, tightening his hands into fists to avoid the immediate reaction that wanted to push through. Taking a deep breath, willing the flush on his cheeks to fade.

This would become ritualistic. She’d bake for him, maybe even before work. Small things that she’d pack away for him to eat at lunchtime. She’d be there for him — love him.

She’d love him so much that she wouldn’t know what to do with it, and he’d get cocky. He’d see it every time she looked at him. He’d press a kiss to her cheek and say that he wouldn’t be long before leaving. They’d crave each other.

Ben rose from his spot, walking over to where she was and taking it, letting his hand brush against her own, before putting it on the counter. Her face contorted in confusion, but then warmth, as he wrapped his arms around her.

She was so small in his arms. So vulnerable. Just for him.

An exhale brushed his chest, one of relief or shock; Ben was happy with either. Letting his touch engulf her, his breath tickling against her crown. It took a moment before she joined, arms wrapping against his waist. Head buried in his shirt.

Warmth wrapped around them both, a dull squeezing around his loins as her body pressed against him. Serenity. Resting his cheek on her head as he held onto her, thumb rubbing circles into her back.

The grass was indeed greener on the other side — this was only just the beginning, and they both knew it. He was content with the pace. Knowing it’s gotten him here, with her. With his girl.

She hummed into him, nodding, and it vibrated through him. It wouldn’t be long. He searched for an excuse to stay, to linger. His head struggled to search for words.

“What are you doing on New Year’s?”

She pulled away, looking up at him with those eyes. That look that made his blood pump faster. Dazed, just like he wanted. It’d be even better when she got on her knees for him.

“Nothing.” A smile formed and her eyebrow quivered. “Why?”

“Um, it’s just… Over by the lake, they have fireworks. Thought you might — I mean, I was wondering if you’d maybe want to… come with me?”

Now Ben was the one blushing, cheeks hot with unease. He hoped she would say yes — prayed, in fact. There was nothing more powerful than starting the new year with her at his side.

Her hands pulled back, but she stayed close, not once breaking eye contact.

“Of course, I’d — I’d like that.”

“Oh, good — I mean, nice. That’d be nice.” Really, really nice. “I’ll see you soon,” he murmured.

The entire drive home, Ben was ticking with excitement. He couldn’t stop smiling to himself. People probably thought he was insane as they drove past.

No one liked it when he was happy. Acted like it was unnecessary.

Ben had her, and she would always have him.

A date. Underneath fireworks. Ben had been good. No matter how tempted he’d been, he had stuck to his morals and built his way up. And the reward was sweet on his tongue, though uncomfortable on his jeans.

Still sticky with his spend from the night before, creating an irritating chafe on his groin. It’d be better suited inside of her — leaving her a part of himself — but he was a good guy. He’d always known he was. That he could be.

Besides, the mess in his jeans reminded him of how he’d protected her — he didn’t need to rush or get physical. Ben had control. Just needed to learn. He’s only human.

His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles turning pale from the pressure.

Of course, he was doing this for her. To protect her. Keep her safe from danger. From men like Hux. Ben would do anything for her and he was going to prove it.

He was going to cut out the tumour. Extract the parasite.

It needed to be done.

People wouldn’t agree, people would think he was sick — deranged. But she wouldn’t, she would understand. He’d make her. Danger lied underneath, even in the clearest waters, and luckily for her, Ben knew that.

He’d known ever since he’d seen that head of ginger hair for the first time, he’d gotten that feeling people talked about. Deep in his gut. Something that encouraged bile to rise up his throat, burning his oesophagus.

Now he had all the proof he needed. It was justified.

If he didn’t do it, then Hux would continue to hurt her — continue to plague the ground she walked on — the ground Ben had worked so hard to protect, and he couldn’t have that. He was so close to getting what he wanted.

Hux would get too close. And he’d never understand what Ben wanted. Sick people never did. He’d only see what he wants to see, he wouldn’t see what Ben was doing for his sweet, sweet girl. His person. Ben didn’t share.

He didn’t want to hurt him. Ben wasn’t insane. He wasn’t some sick sadist that enjoyed pain. He just wanted to make sure she was safe and if that meant inflicting pain on Hux, he would do it for her.

Ben wasn’t selfish.

Planning wasn’t the easiest task, though. They made it seem like a simple task in books and movies, clear. But that just wasn’t the case, not factual in the slightest. In reality, it was difficult. He had to be critical, unbiased.

Had to remain stoic and level-headed, instead of becoming overwhelmed with emotion.

God, was it hard. Especially when he saw the cloud of orange in-front of the barn. Grinding his jaw to calm the storm. It’d be okay if he kept his cool.

Cutting off the ignition and climbing out of the truck, without taking the Galette which sat on the passenger seat, wiping his hands on his jeans and digging them into his pockets to hide the quake in his wrists.

This was the man that frightened what was his — the man who imposed himself onto the property that only belonged to Ben. His. Not Hux’s. Ben didn’t have time to let Armitage learn. He didn’t have any room for his co-worker.

If Ben thought his patience was running short before, it was nothing compared to now. Now he felt like a pot about to boil over.

He had to be smart about this.

For her.

Hux was sawing wood, pathetically, body bent in a hunched posture and bearing his weight down onto the table. It took him twice the amount of time it’d take Ben.

“Hux?”

His head turned at the calling of his surname, face just as angry and displeased as usual. Eyebrows knitted together, expecting Ben to scold him for not cleaning the machinery like he usually would — Ben wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

He’d hire a more competent worker; one that wasn’t only hired because of Han sympathising over his father, Brendol’s, death.

No, he’d get someone respectful, someone who cared about Ben’s authority.

“Solo.” His voice was as uninterested as ever, filled with distaste. He’d learn. Ben would show him just how powerful he was. Hux should know better.

“Can you give me a hand? Need to carry some tools up from the house.” Ben waved his hands in front of him. “But, don’t have enough hands.”

Sure, he could’ve thought of something better, like asking him to help fix the boat and just hitting him over the head, dropping him in the lake. But he wanted to get something out of it. Wanted him to hear Ben out.

See the fear in his eyes.

Hux let out a huff, quirking an eyebrow, “I’m supposed to help you. Why?”

“I am your damn boss, aren’t I?”

He paled a bit, looking down at the half sawn wood and shrugging. “Fine.” He brushed sweat off of his forehead with the back of his palm after leaving the bench. “But don’t complain if I ain’t finished my work in time.”

“It’ll only take a moment.” You’ll be out like a light in five.

His co-worker trailed behind him, feet sweeping up the wet mud and spraying it up Ben’s trouser legs. Ben allowed it, thought he might as well allow him one more minute of freedom.

“What’s this for?”

“Have to repair the milking machine.” Ben lied, making his way up the steps and cringing at each creak. Wondered what she’d think — if she’d like his home, if she’d move in.

He’d redecorate for her. Always did hate the wallpaper. His mother’s taste had always been awful. She could choose. He’d let her.

And he could have her anytime he wanted.

He’d come home to her cooking. She would have baked whilst he ploughed the fields, and then he’d lean her over the counter and take her there. Jeans pulled halfway down his legs, her skirt hiked up.

“I thought you fixed it a while ago?”

“Broke again.”

Hux grumbled under his breath, saying how he might as well just buy another one, and Ben couldn’t fight off his smirk. Idiot.

He lead Hux to the basement, ignoring the whine which sounded as he pushed open the door.

The bulb above the stairs swung as he pulled on the cord, fluttering before it lit up and sung a low buzzing noise. Heavy steps echoed off of the concrete walls, wood crackling under both of their weights.

He walked to the far left, looking over his shoulder at Hux, “I think the other tools are behind you — under the workbench.”

When he had followed Ben’s instructions, Ben clutched the wrench which sat on the shelf, splattered with dried liquid.

“I can’t find them—” his breath hitched, and Ben watched as his feet shuffled backwards. “Holy shit. Is that blood—” It was when Hux turned around that he struck.

He’s dizzy with anger when he sees the perplexed expression on Hux’s face and it only fuels his muscles to work harder.

Teeth formed into a snarl as he flung the side of the metal into his temple, incapacitating him with the force. Watching as he crumpled to the floor in a heap, out cold.

Ben can’t seem to take his eyes away from the blood gushing from the wound on Hux’s head, how it bleeds out onto his hair, and then onto the floor. Pooling, mixing with the dirt and dust.

His vision tunnels. He just can’t look away. He’ll be concussed when he wakes up, confused, and it could last long-term, not like he’ll be around long enough for it to matter.

Ben hums a tune under his breath, one he’d had playing in the car, and he heaves Hux’s scrawny body up from the floor, careful to not step in the blood, and placing him on the chair in the back.

It’s still set up from the last time, meaning Ben only has to fiddle with the chains before he clasps them around his ankles and wrists. Not like Hux could escape, anyway. Probably couldn’t even run in a straight line.

Ben backs away, staring at the sight in front of him, and his eyes soften.

So, this is love.

#adcu community #adcu fanfiction #adcu smut #ben solo fanfiction #ben solo x reader #ben solo x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #dead dove #dead dove do not eat

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