#Contrasting Only By Circumstance

[kittytudor]

something i really love about “the crystal pavillion, for the third time” is the fact that the entire plot only happens because a servant was ill.

most of the mysteries maomao solves are related to high ranking officials or concubines, and if they aren’t, they usually happen in such strange circumstances that it’s impossible to not suspect potential foul play. in contrast, this episode’s mystery isn’t even really a mystery at all. a servant girl got sick with a rather common and treatable type of illness, and was put in isolation by her boss. on surface level, it’s as low stakes a plot as it could get. in the imperial court, servants are merely tools that can be replaced once they die. their lives are not seen as valuable, as even maomao acknowledges.

and yet, it is this unknown, nameless servant girl who becomes shin’s downfall. maomao may have had her suspicions about shin and the perfumes, even before this episode, but she had nothing concrete to go on. she couldn’t accuse a high ranking concubine’s chief attendant of trying to harm a preganant concubine with no evidence (at that point, she didn’t even know who shin’s target was). shin may have been a lot of things, but she was no fool, she was an incredibly intelligent woman who knew how to cover her tracks well, which is why maomao had to goad a confession out of her in order to prove her guilt. she’s arguably one of maomao’s cleverest adversaries yet, after suirei and lakan!

but shin’s fatal flaw is pride. she believes she’s better than lihua and she believes she’s better than a mere servant girl. so she cruelly uses her as a means to an end in order to hide the forbidden perfumes through the smell of her sickness. and in the eyes of the palace law, she is not committing a crime either. a servant girl’s life is nothing compared to the life of a high ranking concubine. who would even notice she’s missing? who would care if she quietly died?

but people did notice. the clinician noticed the maid had been missing and was worried enough to ask maomao to look into it. the other crystal pavillion servant loved her friend so much she planted flowers outside the shed because she hoped it would help her get better, which was the key clue that made maomao realize that’s the place where the servant is locked up. all of shin’s machinations get revealed because she refused to treat a servant girl as someone who mattered. it’s such a powerful message and i love it.

[totaly-obsessed]

Sunny - Paige Bueckers x reader

➳ Stuck in a toxic relationship reader finally realizes what love should feel like when Paige shows her what it means to feel safe, seen, and cared for.

➳ Warnings: (emotional abuse), (gaslighting), (manipulation), (financial control), (toxic relationship), (anxiety), (trauma recovery), (non-graphic threatening behavior)

➳ Word count: 11.804k

➳ Navigation Post - here!

The first meeting was… awkward, to say the least. It was a week after the draft, no one was supposed to be in the training facilities but you. The job of the day was to get B-Roll footage of the place, stuff that can be used and recycled for social media, and show the facilities to the viewers without anybody there. So with a coffee in hand, and headphones on, you made your way through the building - starting in the offices then the medical and treatment rooms before getting to the court. 

The first thing Paige saw when she entered was someone mid dance with big headphones on and a phone in a tripod pointing around the big indoor court.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Oh yeah, the headphones. 

Slowly, as if she was approaching a wounded animal, Paige made her way over to you, softly tapping your shoulder. But her careful try was useless as you let out a yelp, stumbled over the tripod before it fell over and ripped off the headphones mid fall. But like in a cheesy rom-com you never hit the ground as the pretty blonde in front of you caught you by the elbow, keeping you up.

“Uh… hi?” she tried again.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that! I think you gave me a heart attack!” your chest moved up and down rapidly, trying to work through the initial shock.

“You’re fine,” she grinned, “didn’t even fall. Thanks to me.” The wink was too much to comprehend as you were still trying to catch your breath. “I thought this place was locked anyways.” She continued.

Finally you got a grip back on life, standing straight and picking up the tripod, “Yeah, but I work here, one of the media girls.” As if to get your point across you motioned to the phone, checking for cracks. “I’m allowed to be here. You on the other hand...” The teasing smile on your face was a stark contrast to the panic Paige saw before. 

“Guess we’re both rule-breakers.” You nod in agreement before coming to your senses and rapidly shaking your head, “Nuh uh, I’m allowed to be here!” The blonde laughed,” You know who would say that?” 

“Who?” 

“Someone that’s not supposed to be here.”

An offended gasp filled the empty court, as you crossed your arms over your chest and eyes narrowed in mock betrayal. “I’ll have you know I’m very professional. I only enter empty gyms in artistic circumstances.”

Paige hummed, a smirk on her face “Mhmm. Artistic. Sure.”

“What, you don’t think my danc-” Your personal phone buzzed in your pocket - loud, urgent. Paige notices the furrow in your brows and how your smile slips for just a second as you glance on the screen. 

[6 texts from: Jared]

➤ Where the hell are you ➤ Answer me ➤ You said you’d be back 30 mins ago ➤ I’m not playing with you rn

“Uhm. Sorry I gotta go.” Paige blinked at you, “What, already?”

“Yeah. Got what I needed.” You shoved your phone into your bag, rushing to pack up your tripod without looking at her. “Court’s all yours.”

She tilted her head, long hair swishing gently to one side, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes, no worries!” The smile on your face seemed… off. “I’m just on a very tight schedule of mild chaos.”

You started backing away, already halfway to the tunnel exit.  “Oh, and Paige?” She perked up, still watching you carefully. “Yeah?” 

You gave a weak little grin. “Next time, bring coffee. Scaring people earns you caffeine tax.”

Then you turned and walked off, your steps a little faster than before. Paige stood frozen, her gaze trailing you until you disappeared around the corner.

She frowned.

Something didn’t add up.

And for the first time since she got to Dallas, Paige Bueckers wasn’t thinking about basketball.

–

Meeting Paige for the second time was a lot more like you had originally planned it. First day of training camp. The entire facility was buzzing like a hive, excited, nervous - especially the rookies. They already had a press conference the day before, as well as a photoshoot, so now the fun could begin. This was also your first day with the full, new team, the last few functions had been covered by your colleagues. 

Sneakers squeaked and whistles echoed through the big indoor court as coaches yelled instructions and teammates tried to communicate with each other over the music. 

It was day 1 and you were already sweating, obviously not from playing basketball but from running around the gym trying to get shots of everyone. It was way too warm to wear a hoodie, but you couldn’t change that now. 

“Sunshine!” Maddy Siegrist called out to you across the court, she was entering her third season. “You get a shot of me doing that sick reverse layup or do I have to redo it?”

The smile on her face was cheeky enough to get a laugh out of you. “Got it in burst mode, Maddy,” you said, adjusting the camera around your neck, the strap getting uncomfortable after a time, “I even got your ugly concentration face if you wanna see it again?”

“Rude,” Maddy said, grinning. “See if I let you get my good side again.”

“You have a good side?” DiJonai chimed in, drawing a laugh from the group.

Paige couldn’t stop staring, not in a creepy or weird way, she was just... Observing. She saw how you zipped around the court like you belonged there, bantering with her new teammates as they called out ‘sunshine’ to get your attention on them, hoping you’d get a good shot of them attempting something.

You were cracking jokes and all smiles, you were - on. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the way you bolted out of the gym just a couple of days ago, the way your entire demeanor had drastically changed at one look at your phone.

“Alright, grab some water, catch your breath for a second!” Chris, the head coach yelled out. Naturally the blonde drifted over to where you stood on the sidelines, two water bottles in her hands. 

Let me guess,” she said casually. “You’re gonna post the worst picture of me, huh?” You didn’t jump this time—but your eyes flicked up in surprise, not expecting anyone to come up to you as you reviewed shots on your camera.

“Well, you did come into the league with a reputation. Gotta keep expectations realistic,” you teased, your camera already swinging up toward her, getting a horrendous angle on her as you crouched down to put a lens away.

“I literally just got here,” Paige said flatly, not impressed at all at the flash that went off.

You grinned. “Exactly.”

She smirked. But then your phone buzzed — three short, sharp vibrations in your pocket. You didn’t even look at it this time. Just silenced it with a practiced thumb swipe and tucked it back into your bag like it didn’t matter.

But your shoulders had gone tense. And Paige caught it. Of course she did. "You alright?" she asked quietly, not joking anymore.

You looked at her a beat too long, then blinked and smiled. That same, slightly-too-sunny smile.

“Yup. Golden.” You gestured vaguely toward the team. “Now hydrate, Rookie. You’ve got a whole training camp to impress me.”

“Me impress you?” Paige’s eyebrows shot up as she opened one bottle and handed it to you before opening her own and taking a big gulp.

“Exactly.” You winked and took a sip. “I’ve got the camera. That means I control the legacy.”

With the back of her hand Paige wiped her mouth while chuckling. “So I gotta earn your approval and try not to look stupid on the internet?” 

Your head tilted as you shrugged. “Basically, yeah. High-stakes game. Emphasis on not looking stupid online.”

She gave you a glance as she nudged your water bottle, telling you to take another sip before closing her own. “And what do you get out of this?”

Your mouth opened for another sarcastic answer but you got interrupted by new buzzes of your phone. These seemed louder, more intense, more persistent. 

“I get to make magic,” you shrugged before lifting the camera again and pointing it at her face. “Now go stand near the hoop and look natural.”

Paige didn’t move right away. She just watched you. Watched how quickly you slipped the mask back on. Then, finally, she turned and jogged off toward the baseline, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t make me look short.”

You laughed, the sound carrying across the court. “Better grow an inch then, Bueckers!”

Before Paige could fire something back, a voice called her name from the free throw line - “P! We need a fifth!”

She lingered just long enough to catch the way your smile dropped before jogging back onto the court.

–

Game days have always been hectic, stressful and chaotic. But not the bad kind of chaos but the kind that makes your blood rush with adrenaline and the smile stay on your face for so long that it hurts. The exciting kind of chaos, where you felt your heart in your throat - you lived for days like this, camera in one hand, press badge around your neck, running on caffeine and nerves.

The first game of the season was against the Las Vegas Aces at Joyce Center Notre Dame, Indiana. The Pavillion was already buzzing with fans and students as you slipped past security and into the tunnel. Today's fit was all black, trying to be as much in the background as possible. Comfortable, invisible. You liked it that way - a photographer's uniform.

Players were warming up on the court. Media circled like sharks. Lights were blinding. Music thundered. It was all familiar.

And still—your hands were a little shaky.

“Sunshine!” NaLyssa jogged over, her warm-up jacket half on half off. “Tell me you’re getting my walkout? I want tunnel footage that looks like I’m about to drop 30.”

You grinned. “Only if you do drop 30. I have integrity, Smith.” She threw a quick ‘I gotchu’ in your direction before running off again. In her stead, Paige emerged from the locker room in full uniform, earbuds in, head low. The rookie buzz was thick around her. She was trying to look calm. She wasn’t and you knew it.

Your eyes met. And for a second, neither of you moved. She gave you a tiny nod. Not a smile. Just... acknowledgment.

You lifted your camera. Snapped one quiet photo. Caught her mid-stride, jaw set, spotlight just catching her cheekbone. It would be a great shot. Her shots always were. 

Then it happened again, your phone buzzed. No subtle ping just sharp, angry vibrations again. You checked the screen, instinctively.

[3 texts from: Jared] ➤ Where are you. ➤ I saw your story. ➤ You think I’m fucking stupid?

Your fingers clenched so tight around the phone you nearly cracked it. The heat drained from your face. You backed up into the tunnel. Just for a second. Just to breathe.

“Hey.”

Paige’s voice cut through the noisy atmosphere, shutting it all out. She must have put down her bottle, headphones and towel on the bench before following you the few steps into the darker tunnel. Her brows were furrowed, and she looked like she wanted to say something. Same look she wore at camp. Like she knew something.

“You good?” she asked. You nodded too quickly letting out the fakest laugh she had heard from you as of yet. “Yeah. Just... bright lights. Low blood sugar,” you waved it off, “You know, media girl problems.”

She didn’t laugh. She just watched you. And then, like she couldn’t help it, she leaned closer, keeping her voice low.

“Is someone messing with you?”

The question felt like a slap — not because of the words, but because it was the first time someone asked it out loud.

You blinked. Then smiled — brittle and brilliant. “Nope. Just showtime jitters.” You raised your camera again, angling the lens so she couldn’t see your face. “Now go be a star, Bueckers.”

You didn’t see her eyes stay on you. Didn’t see the way she lingered. Didn’t hear her whisper to herself as she walked back toward the court: “Liar.”

–

The hotel room was quiet, almost too quiet after the loud crowd at the game. Due to an odd number of staff you had gotten your own room while most others were paired up. It was quiet like before a storm. Your gear bag was still packed next to the door, you hadn’t even taken your shoes off or changed out of your outfit.

The game ended with a loss for the Dallas Wings but that wasn’t too bad, it was only the first of the season with an entirely different team. For you it had been a good game, the footage was clean and you can feel the energy in them. 

And yet here you were, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed like a glitch in the system.

The only light came from your laptop, halfway open and flickering with edits of the night’s media dump. You were supposed to be uploading clips. Sending previews. Drafting captions.

Instead, you were staring at a single photo - Paige mid-drive, focused, powerful. You had caught her in perfect motion, backlit by the bright lights.

Your phone buzzed again.

[5 texts from: Jared] ➤ You think I don’t know where that hotel is? ➤ I’m not an idiot. ➤ Answer me. ➤ I said ANSWER ME. ➤ You think this little game makes you better than me?

You watched the messages roll in, but didn’t answer. You sat your phone down on the nightstand, the screen down, but it kept buzzing. You could feel the angry vibrations through the cheap wood like a second heartbeat. 

Instead of checking it you stared straight ahead in the dark room, jaw locked and chest feeling way too tight. You kept swallowing. But it didn’t work. 

Then—like some dam had quietly cracked - you reached up and wiped your eye. Just once. Then again. And suddenly, tears spilled fast, like they had been waiting their turn all day or even longer.

You didn’t sob. You didn’t scream. That would require energy you didn’t have. You just leaked, silently, as your shoulders folded in and your shaking hands pressed to your face.

The kind of crying that didn’t look dramatic. Just tired. Just… done. The ugly kind. Your laptop screen timed out. Darkness flooded the room. Still, the phone kept buzzing.

Eventually, you turned it off. Not silenced. Not ignored.

Off.

You slipped on your team issued hoodie, grabbed your room-key and left the dark room. 

The stairwell was stuffy and dim, lit by one flickering bulb, but you kept climbing.

One flight. Then two. Then the heavy metal door to the roof gave way with an eerie creak, making your bones shudder.

Cool air hit your face, sharp and quiet.

Up here, the world felt a little farther away. Just lights in the distance, the hum of AC units, and a faint breeze that tugged at your sleeves. You needed a moment before pulling your phone out and dialing while leaning on the metal railing.

The line rang once—then connected.

“Finally,” Jared’s voice snapped through like a blade. “You screen me all night just to call me now?”

You didn’t say anything. Not right away. You stared out into the blur of headlights and halos. And all of a sudden the air wasn’t refreshing anymore. It was just cold, metallic and heavy. 

“Well? You gonna speak or just breathe heavy?”

“…Hi, sorry I was working,” you murmured. Your voice was so soft it barely reached your own ears.

“Working. Sure. Where the fuck is my money?” You winced and curled up in your hoodie, pulling the hood over your head trying to shield your face from the cold wind. Tears stinging in your eyes.

“It was supposed to be yesterday. You promised me yesterday.”

“I know,” you said quickly, automatically. “I tried to move it early, but-”

“I don’t want your excuses. You think I’m just sitting here waiting around while you play dress-up with basketball Barbies and your little media job and feel all important?”

You didn’t even hear the door creak behind you, as it opened further than you had left it open. You just lowered your voice even more, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t do this right now.”

Jared didn’t even hear it. Or maybe he did and didn’t care. “You made a commitment. You’re not just gonna flake because you got a new backdrop for your sad little life. You owe me.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I know.”

A pause.

“I’ll get it to you. I just… I need a little more time.”

He laughed - that hard, bitter kind of laugh that made your blood feel cold.

“You’re always saying that. You always ‘just need time.’ I should’ve known better than to count on you. You always act like you’re doing me a favor - you should be grateful I haven’t shown up and taken it myself.”

Something behind you shifted. A soft scuff of sneakers. But still, you didn’t turn, didn’t hear it or just didn’t care.

“I’ll fix it,” you said. Quiet. Small. Mechanical.

There was silence on the line for a beat. Then Jared spat, “Yeah. You better,” and the call went dead.

You stayed frozen. Just stood there, phone still in hand, like it might ring again.

From the shadows near the exit, Paige had stopped mid-step. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop - she was just looking for air, same as you. But now she stood still, watching your hunched figure against the skyline.

She didn’t interrupt. She just looked. Saw. She saw the real you.

And after a long moment, she turned and slipped quietly back down the stairs.

–

The restaurant looked warm and inviting - bright but not in the blinding way. Bright in a golden way, that made everyone look a little softer than the harsh lights on the court. The team had taken over the back of the place, pushed 2 long tables together to fit everyone semi-comfortable. After all, basketball players do need a bit more space than ‘normal sized’ humans. 

You were late, not fashionably late, but a hurried late. 

It was NaLyssa that had texted you earlier “You’re coming, no excuses. We’re family now.”

It took longer to get there than you had expected or wanted. Without a car you depended on Jared in that department. But he was already irritated that you were going out, so why would he drive you? He only accepted after you offered to pay for his gas at the nearest station. So after getting gas he had dropped you off  two blocks away. After watching his car (which was really yours but that’s a different story) drive off, you walked the last bit fast, heart pounding the whole time like it might outrun your nerves.

Slipping through the door of the restaurant you felt a bit out of place in some jeans and a hoodie, so you tried to blend in with the shadows. 

“Heyy, she made it!” Maddy shouted, lifting her glass. A small round of cheers rose up.

Bye bye shadows.

DiJonai waved you over, patting the empty seat beside her. The one opposite Paige.

You smiled tightly and offered a quick, “Sorry, sorry. Hope I didn’t miss dessert.”

“Please,” DiJonai said, sliding a menu in front of you. “You missed the world’s slowest appetizer order. Sit. Eat.” You sat. Your hoodie still smelled faintly like the car. You didn’t take it off.

The waiter came over, and when he asked what you wanted, you barely looked at the menu. “Just the… house salad, no dressing. Thanks.” There was a beat - just long enough for someone to notice. “You sure?” NaLyssa asked gently. “They’ve got good pasta here. You love pasta.”

“I’ll steal bites from all of you,” you deflected with a small smile. “Professional moocher.”

They laughed. The tension moved on. But Paige didn’t.

Her sharp eyes stayed on you as you made good on your promise, eating a fork full of someone's Carbonara and stealing a piece of garlic bread. Laughing at DiJonai’s commentary on wine snobs. Listening as Maddy tried to impersonate the head coach and nearly choked on her soda, sending the whole table into a fit of laughter. 

A laugh so good it made your stomach hurt and eyes well up with tears as you tried to get some air.

At some point, Paige leaned forward to pass you a piece of steak from her plate without saying anything. Just set it on your bread plate and kept talking to JJ beside her. Some roasted potatoes followed soon after.

You didn’t look up. Just ate it. Quietly. Gratefully.

When the others started to order dessert you had excused yourself to the bathroom, quickly freshen yourself up and opened your hoodie for once, all the laughing and good food had warmed you right up. 

The others were just finishing up their main course when you got back to eat your salad. “You’ve seriously been here for thirty minutes and haven’t checked your phone once,” Paige said across the table, a teasing edge to her voice. “You’re not even pretending to look bored. Didn’t even take it with you to the bathroom.”

Your brows shot up as you lifted your fork with some arugula on it pointing it accusingly at the blonde across from you. “What, are you timing me? It’s getting a little creepy, Bueckers.”

She shrugged, a smirk playing at her lips. “I notice things.”

That made your smile twitch into something crooked. You swallowed. “Maybe I’m just trying not to look like the chronically online media gremlin.” Maddy leaned in from two seats down. “Too late. You were posting game reels before tipoff.”

“Exactly. I earn my gremlin status.” You tapped the edge of your water glass. “But this? This is sacred. Food is sacred.”

Paige’s brow rose as she pointed at your sad little side salad. “That’s what counts as sacred now?” You gave her a flat look. “I’m taste-testing my way across the team’s orders. It's a curated sampler.”

“She’s scamming us,” DiJonai said, shaking her head. “I lost half my truffle fries five minutes ago.”

“Don’t let her near the steak,” Arike warned. “She does this thing where she’s like, ‘Oh, just a bite’, and then it’s gone.” You threw your hands up, mock-offended. “I’m being framed. You’re all just bad at food security. God forbid a girl just has a big palette.”

That earned another round of laughs from the table, loud and joyful - the kind of sound that made you forget to flinch.

Across the table, Paige was still looking at you. Chin resting on one hand, her strikingly blue eyes sharp and unreadable - until she smiled, softer this time. “Still,” she said. “No phone. Proud of you.” You tilted your head at her. “Why’s that worth a merit badge?”

She shrugged, but didn’t look away. “Just nice to see someone here. Not halfway gone.” You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to keep it light. “So what’s your excuse? You haven’t checked yours either.”

Paige tapped the screen of her phone on the table - dark. “I don’t have anyone blowing it up.” Her tone was too casual, like it didn’t matter. “Guess I’m not that interesting.”

“Or you have bad reception,” Maddy offered, ever helpful.

Everyone laughed again, and Paige finally looked down, brushing her fingers over her phone. Then she flicked her gaze back up to you.

“Okay - picture time before anyone leaves.” Quickly you got up, digital camera in hand before DiJonai pulled you back down again. “Sunshine, you’re in this one.”

Groans echoed from around the table as everyone shuffled closer together, pulling faces, leaning in. DiJonai tugged you into the shot and Paige leaned just close enough to bump shoulders over the table.

You managed to smile for the photo - a real one. And when you finally glanced at your phone after dinner?

No new messages.

–

The streets were quieter now, dark and cold. The happy buzz of the restaurant laid behind you. You’d waved everyone off with a smile, a joke, a “see you tomorrow,” and started toward the nearest bus stop like it was just routine.

But it wasn’t routine, at  least not for someone having a death grip in a camera bag and a press badge stuffed deep in your handbag. You missed your car in moments like these, but you’re getting used to it. 

You’d barely made it to the corner when a car pulled up alongside the curb. The window rolled down.

“Get in.”

You turned - a little too fast - only to see Paige in the driver’s seat of a black rental. One hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the door.

You blinked. “I’m good. I like public transport. Very... civic. You wouldn’t understand, superstar.” She gave you a flat look. “It’s 11:30. The next bus is in 20 minutes and you have your holy camera with you.”

You shifted your bag higher and just looked at her.

“Get in the car, Sunny,” she said, a touch of amusement threading through the firmness, you could see it in her eyes.

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to, but because it was too easy. Too kind. Too close. Still, your legs betrayed you, already moving before you gave yourself permission. You slid into the passenger seat and closed the door.

You swallowed, “Well, uhm, thank you for saving me from my death march,” your voice was too dry to be funny.

“Someone’s gotta keep your freeloading ass alive,” she quipped while glancing at you but quickly going back to concentrating on the road.

You smiled, lips twitching. “You’re getting funnier. Is that part of the rookie training?”

“Only the advanced course.”

She parked when you gave directions, easing into the curb in front of your building. It looked a little smaller than usual under the yellow streetlight. You hated that. It looked… weird. With the passenger door open and one foot already on the pavement you thanked the blonde, ready to head in.

“I’ll walk you up!” Her seatbelt was already unbuckled and her hand on the door handle. “Oh no, you won’t,” you caught yourself and went a bit softer, your eyes not as wide anymore, “it’s okay, really. I got it.”

Paige turned to you, one eyebrow pulled up “Why wouldn’t I walk you up?”

You exhaled, trying to convince yourself of your reasoning. “Because it’s a six-flight walk-up with a buzzer that doesn’t work and a neighbor who thinks I’m growing weed because I own succulents. Trust me, it’s not a vibe.”

She didn’t laugh this time. Just looked. A beat passed.

“You sure?”

You nodded. “Thanks for the ride.”

Paige leaned back slightly. “You always like this when someone’s nice to you?”

You glanced over. “I’m fine with nice.”

“Are you?” You paused, hand still on the door. Another silence. Then, finally, she said, “Text me when you’re inside.”

That stopped you. “I don’t have your number.”

“It’s in your DMs.” You turned to look at her. She gave you a small, unreadable smile. “Good night, Sunshine.”

But before you could finally leave you starting digging in the pockets of your hoodie and came up with a small wad of bills, hastily smoothed out in your palm, desperately trying to ignore the blonde's confused face.

“Here,” you mumbled, trying to press it into her hand. “Gas money.” Paige blinked, looking at the crumpled twenties like you’d handed her a live bird. “What?” she said, equal parts amused and confused.

“For the drive,” you insisted, pushing it toward her. “It’s a rental. And gas is, like, criminal now.” She leaned back in her seat, both hands up. “You’re not paying me to drive you home. I’m not an Uber.”

“Still,” you said, your voice a little too sharp, “just take it.” She shook her head, a soft, incredulous laugh escaping her. “You really hate owing people, huh?”

You didn’t answer.

She didn’t push. Just gently closed her hand around yours and pushed it back toward your lap.

“You can pay me back by not acting like I'm doing you a favor.”

You hesitated. Then, reluctantly, stuffed the money back into your hoodie. Sort of.

And once you were out of the car and inside the building, she waited until you had unlocked the very front door and entered the building, then drove off.

The building door barely hit the lock before you pulled out your phone. She hadn’t been lying. The message was already there.

[3 texts from: @paigebueckers] ➤ Just in case the bus ghosts you again (xxx) xxx-xxxx. ➤ Or you need someone who doesn’t talk loud on rooftops. ➤ 🕶️☀️

You stared at it for a moment. Then hit “Save Contact.”

Back at her place Paige went to grab her water bottle and get out of the car when she saw it - the money.

Still crumpled, still soft from your hand. Shoved into her center console cup holder. She stared at it for a long second, then sighed. “Jesus,” she murmured to herself. 

She didn’t move it right away. Didn’t throw it out.

Just… left it there.

Like it meant something.

—

The gym was emptying out fast, and it wasn’t long before the only thing you could hear only the hum of the lights and the bounce of a stray ball. You’d already packed all your gear together and carried it over your shoulder. Jelly, was the best way to describe the way your body felt.

You hadn’t even planned on joining the girls in the locker room, just ducked your head in to ask Maddy what shot she wanted sent to her phone - but next thing you know you got dragged in, the camera bag nearly slipping from your shoulder. 

“Come on, Sunshine,” she said with that mischievous grin, “you’re basically one of us now.”

You gave a weak protest, laughing quietly. “Pretty sure staff isn't supposed to be in here.”

“Guess you’ll have to report yourself, then.”

That’s how it started. A two-minute question turned into sitting on an overturned crate near someone’s cubby, camera bag still on, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes heavy. No one bat an eye at you being in there, letting you relax a tad, until your stomach grumbled - loud enough for Maddy to raise an eyebrow.

“Damn. Did you eat today?”

You hesitated. Big mistake.

“Hey!” Maddy called out to the room, turning in her seat. “She didn’t eat today.”

“What?! Are you serious?” That was Nai, halfway through braiding her hair. “Girl, it’s like 4PM.”

“I had a bar earlier- ”

“Was it a real bar or one of those pressed sadness bricks you always pull outta your bag?” The team mobilized like a tactical unit, or at least something close to it. In seconds, there were protein bars, drink bottles, and packets of fruit snacks being thrown your way like offerings to a minor deity. You blinked at the pile forming in your lap and the mess around you.

“You guys don’t have to- ”

“You work for us,” DiJonai said, tossing you a chocolate peanut butter bar. “You’re part of the machine now. The machine stays fed.”

You gave a grateful smile. Small, but real as you didn’t fight it further, just too damn tired. Cheeks warm with quiet gratitude as you tore open the first wrapper. 

Across the room from you in her cubby was Paige, towel thrown around her neck as she took off her knee pads, she looked busy but her eyes never escaped you. You looked so small.

You didn’t see her clock, how your hands shook slightly when you tried to open a bottle. You didn’t notice her chewing her lip when you blinked a little too long between bites.

But she noticed.

Eventually, she walked over, lightly brushing a loose bottle cap off the bench beside you. She nudged an open water bottle your way. “That one’s mine. Cold.”

You took it with a grateful nod and looked up at her, “I’m good, I swear.”

She raised a brow. “You look like you’re about to fold like a lawn chair. Drink it.”

You did.

“So,” Arike drawled. “Your boyfriend let you starve all day, huh?”

The room went still. A beat too long.

Your face snapped up, but your mouth stayed shut. You let out a breathy chuckle, like it was funny. “He’s not- It’s fine. He’s just… busy.” You didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

The older players shared a look. Maddy opened her mouth to shift the mood, but Paige cut in first, casually. “Her boyfriend doesn’t work for a W team. We win. We feed people.”

The others whooped. Just enough distraction to deflect the heat, letting the girls hype each other up one last time for the day. You smiled, forced but functional. You took a bite of the bar Paige gave you. It tasted like cardboard and warmth.

She sat beside you on the edge of the bench, just close enough that your elbows brushed.

She didn’t tease you, just handed you another wrapper, already peeled slightly open.

—

A week later the weight room was buzzing a day before the next game - clanks of plates, low grunts, and the dull thud of medicine balls against the far wall. Lights buzzed overhead, bright but not clinical. Music thumped from a corner speaker, rhythmic and bass-heavy, but muffled by the girls chatting.

You were framing a shot, trying something different seeing as the weight room gave you different possibilities than the practice court, crouching to capture JJ’s silhouette as she lifted. None of you heard the door creak open, no one paid him any mind as he made his way through the room.

“Hey Babe.”

Jared. He was too close, you could feel his breath in your ear, uncomfortably warm as it sent shivers down your spine.

When did he get here?

Once you could finally move you were able to turn around and face him. Jared stood just behind you, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets like he belonged there, like this was a casual drop-in. He even smiled, that crooked, boyish grin that used to make your knees weak and now just made your stomach turn.

The room had gone quiet. Not silent, the music was still going but the girls stopped chatting and subtly tried watching the interaction out of the corner of their eyes. Except Paige, who was full on staring at the train wreck directly in front of her.

“Jared! Uh, hi! What are you doing here?” Your voice was tight, but quiet.

He looked around the room, ignoring the curious looks he got, “This is where you’ve been hiding all day?” He nodded towards your camera equipment in the corner, “Saw your little video earlier. On their Insta? Real artsy, baby.” What was supposed to be a petty compliment just sounded sarcastic instead.

“I, uh, thanks. But, uhm, you can’t just walk into the team areas like this.” You had pulled him in closer by his arm, so close that your bodies nearly touched as you quietly tried to suggest that he should get lost.

“I tried calling.” He shrugged, stepping closer before he continued, voice sweet again, soft. “Look, I get it. You’re busy. I just...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t want to make a scene. I just... kinda needed to talk for a sec.”

Your throat tightened as Paige watched you like a hawk.

“Can’t it wait? I’m working?” Your voices had gotten really quiet now, neither Jared or you noticed how one of the girls had stopped the music, now silencing the room to listen in as they pretended to workout, most of the other staff had already left.

“I wouldn’t be here if it could.” His voice had turned quiet. Sharp. “I, uh… I just left my doctor’s office. They wouldn’t run the test without the co-pay.”

Your stomach dropped. “What test?”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “It’s probably nothing. Just chest stuff again. Tightness. They said I should’ve come in sooner, but you know how it is…”

Your face went cold.

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” he added quickly. “I almost didn’t say anything at all. But now I’m sitting outside Walgreens trying to figure out how to cover the lab work, and I thought... if you could spot me, just one more time…”

You nodded, and when your hands didn’t move fast enough, he reached for your purse like he always did. “I’ll pay you back Friday,” he said, a little softer as he took out all the bills that were left. “You know I always do.”

You didn’t notice Paige until she was a few steps closer, towel slung over one shoulder, a water bottle in her hands. “Everything good?” she asked casually, but her eyes flicked between the two of you.

“All good,” you said too fast, taking your purse back from his hands. “He was just, just on his way out.” Jared offered a smile. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry about that.”

He lingered a second longer than he needed to, brushing a hand over your shoulder. “You’re still the best, you know that?”

Then he turned and left. You didn’t even breathe until the door clicked behind him and he was finally, really gone from the space you had once felt safe in.

Paige was still watching you. “Lab work?”

You looked down at your camera, fiddling with the lens cap. “He’s been feeling off for a while now. Chest problems are scary, he’s been to a lot of Doctors for it.”

“And they don’t take insurance?” You swallowed, your eyes desperately trying to avoid making eye contact with the blonde. “He said they wouldn’t run it without him paying up front.”

A long silence passed.

Then Paige said, without looking at you, “You always pay when he says it’s urgent?” You didn’t answer. Not really.

Just said, “It’s easier.”

—

The place wasn’t even on google maps, one of those bars that looked like it might have once been a gas station or a tire shop. Squat brick, single red neon sign humming a half-lit “OPEN,” and windows so fogged over they might as well be painted black. Inside, the floor was sticky and the music was classic rock on shuffle.

It was perfect.

Maddy pushed the door open with her hip, DiJonai following close behind. “I swear to God,” she muttered, “if I get tetanus from the pool table, I’m blaming you.”

“You can’t get tetanus from felt,” Arike deadpanned.

“That sounds like a challenge," Maddy said.

Paige was the last to walk in of the small group that had decided to grab some cheap drinks and greasy food after a gruelling late film session. She hadn’t even looked up until Maddy elbowed her in the ribs and nodded toward the bar.

And there you were.

Behind the counter. In a low cut black T-shirt and jeans, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Your forehead was a little sweaty from the heat, or the pace, or both. You moved like someone who had done this a thousand times - pouring, swiping, dodging elbows and flirting with drunks just enough to earn better tips.

That top certainly helped for the tips as well.

For a while none of the girls said anything. Just stood there in stunned silence as they watched you shake off an uncomfortable customer.

“Wait,” DiJonai blinked. “Is that sunshine? Like, our sunshine?”

“Yup,” Paige said quietly as her eyes locked with yours. You didn’t freeze, didn’t drop anything, didn’t run, but the smile you gave was practiced. Not fake, exactly. Just... careful.

“Hey,” you said over the bar as they approached. “Didn’t know you guys knew this place!” Your voice was loud over the loud music.

“We’re versatile,” Lyss grinned. “Athletes by day, dive bar connoisseurs by night.”

You laughed, and it was real enough. “What can I get my favourite girls?” They placed their orders, teased you a little, tipped heavy despite your protests.

You stayed in motion, but Paige watched you closely. The way you rubbed your eyes between orders. The slight limp in your left leg. The silence between your words when you thought no one noticed. At one point, you ducked under the bar to grab a case of beer and came up too fast, smacking your shoulder on the counter. You didn’t even wince. Just kept moving.

The team stayed for maybe an hour. They didn’t push. Didn’t ask why you were working a second job, or why you never mentioned it, or why you looked like you hadn’t slept in days. They just let it be.

But Paige didn’t leave. Of course she didn’t. 

The other girls had eventually paid (and tipped even more, ignoring your refusal) and left, laughing about their sore stomachs and how they would regret the bad pizza tomorrow. Paige stayed, told them she’d uber home in a bit and no one questioned it - because they all knew.

DiJonai patted her arm with a smirk whispering a “Get our girl home in one piece, will you?” in the rookie's ear before filling out.

At first you didn’t notice her lingering gaze, too focused on the new barback who stocked the cooler wrong, and a regular who tried to play Journey for the 3rd time on the jukebox. But when you glanced up from drying a pint glass, she was still there, alone at the end of the bar, half-finished drink in hand, eyes on you like she’d never really stopped watching.

The crowd started thinning out now, just a few stragglers playing darts and a couple on their third round of something brown and bitter while staring into each others souls. It was the kind of hour where everything slowed down, the volume dropped just enough to hear your own thoughts. Which was worse most days.

You walked over and leaned on the bar. “Still here, huh?”

She raised a brow, her eyes challenging you. “You’re surprised?” All you did was shrug. “Most people don’t find this place worth staying.” Paige tilted her head with that annoying, cocky smirk. “I’m not most people.”

You huffed a tired laugh. “So I’ve heard.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a second as she watched you fiddle with your hair, annoyed by the loose strands. “Your eyes were too sharp for someone that tired. This wasn’t new.”

Then, quietly she asked, “How often are you here?”

You leaned back, wiped your hands on a rag that had long lost its purpose, way too stained to really be any use. “Depends. Weekends are the worst. But I fill in when someone flakes.”

“And after media days? Practices?”

You gave her a smile, soft and vaguely apologetic. “Turns out passion projects don’t cover rent.” Paige didn’t laugh at your weak attempt at a joke. She just looked down at her drink, then back up at you.

“You could’ve said something.”

Before you could answer, your manager called from the back office, saving you (because really, what were you supposed to say?). “Closing time! You’re good to clock out.”

You gave Paige a quiet look and gestured toward the front door. “Wait by the door? It’s quieter there. I’ll walk with you.”

-

Ten minutes later you came out with a hoodie pulled on. Paige’s hoodie. Backpack on one shoulder, your camera bag slung over the other. The rookie had to grin, you really didn’t go anywhere without that bag, huh?

Paige stood near the dumpster, hands in her pockets. When you reached her, she noticed the envelope in your hand: plain white, thick.

You didn’t try to hide it.

Instead, you peeled it open, quickly counting bills with practised ease. You shoved a few twenties into your worn wallet, then glanced around before lifting the false bottom of your camera bag and slipping the rest inside.

When you looked up again, Paige wasn’t staring. She was just... waiting.

Patient. Steady. Like she always was.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, even though you both knew it was. She let you grasp at your excuses before she gave a small nod. “Is it enough?”

That caught you off guard.“What?”

“The cash. The extra hours. All of it. Is it enough?”

You paused, still stunned by the question. “It has to be. I’m getting there.”

She let the silence settle between you, “You always take care of everyone else.”

You tried to make it a joke. “Bad habit.”

“Yeah,” Paige said softly. “But who takes care of you?”

You didn’t hesitate to say “I do” but your voice was shaky. Sometimes yourself just wasn’t enough. But that’s all you had.

You just looked at her, like really looked at the blonde, and for the first time in a while, you felt the weight of someone holding your gaze, not demanding anything from you, not draining you.

Just... being there and seeing you. 

“Come on. I’m getting us an uber.” There was no room to protest, so you accepted with a small smile and thankful nod.

—

The Laundry room was brightly lit by those annoying buzzing tube lights that keep flickering like in a bad horror movie. A window was cracked near the ceiling and let in stale air and the sound of distant traffic, but not much else.

Your back already started hurting after the first load of laundry, now at the third it was even worse. Why is this damn table so low?? Your hoodie sleeves were pushed to your elbows, fingers numb and stiff from folding the third load of team jerseys on that way too low table. Your camera bag sat nearby on a stool, always close. Your phone buzzed again. 

You didn’t check it.

Well not on purpose but you still saw the messages pop up.

[3 texts from: Jared] ➤ Just remember who helped you get in. ➤ You’d be nowhere without me. ➤ You’re welcome, by the way.

The screen dimmed. You exhaled slowly through your nose and turned back to the pile of laundry. Towels. Practice shirts. Warmups. More to do. Always more, just like at home the laundry was never ending.

“Jesus, Sunshine.” You hadn’t heard her come in, so to no one's surprise you flinched so hard that the stack of freshly folded towels was knocked over again.

Once your head snapped up you could see the blonde leaning in the doorway, still in sweats and damp hair from a post-practice shower. A protein shake in one hand, towel slung over her shoulder. Her expression shifted the moment she saw you: confusion, then concern.

“It’s so late already, what are you still doing here?”

You tried for a joke. It barely made it to your lips. “Look who’s talking. You’re still here too.”

She didn’t laugh. Or react at all, except for a raised brow that you knew meant she wasn’t in the mood, so you gave your real reason up. “Couldn’t sleep.”

That made Paige smirk, much to your enjoyment. “So you decided to cosplay as laundry staff?”

You laughed softly. “Someone’s gotta do it. Lord knows how many towels you guys go through in a single practice day.”

She looked around at the mess of fabric and unfolded towels. Then back to you as she stepped into the room.

“Sit somewhere real.”

“What is that even..? I’m sitting-” With an eye roll she ignored your protest before she pulled you up, “Not on a crate like a goblin. Come on,” and unzipped her jacket, shook it out, and spread it carefully across the folding table like a blanket, then patted it once.

“Sit here.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

No. No she didn’t.

Realizing you wouldn’t move on your own she dragged you down to her chosen place by your shoulders. The second your legs dangled off the table, Paige was already grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She handed it over (already opened of course) with a raised brow. “Drink.”

“I’m fine, I really don’t need-”

“Not what I asked. Drink.”

You took the water. Drank. Because something in her voice and something in her eyes made it impossible not to.

She picked up your fallen stacks of towels and sorted them into the shelf where they belonged, before picking up the next basket and sitting it down on the floor next to the table and started folding. No comment. No lecture. Just calm, methodical movements. She made neat stacks. You watched, still clutching the water bottle with both hands like it was keeping you upright. And maybe it was.

She didn’t ask questions. Just moved around you, efficient and silent.

It was strange. Not in a bad way. Just unfamiliar. Like watching someone speak a language you used to know but forgot to speak after not hearing it for so many years.

Eventually, she dug out a protein bar from her pocket and tossed it toward you without looking. You didn’t catch it. Nope. It hit you straight in the face before falling in your lap - and even though Paige tried really hard not to laugh, she failed miserably as she giggled into her fist. 

“Stop pouting and eat. You didn’t today.”

You looked at her, brows furrowed. “That’s a bold assumption.”

“Not an assumption, I know it’s a fact. I notice things.”

Your chest tightened, painfully. You looked down at the bar in your lap, thumb running over the wrapper. You didn’t move as your traitorous brain wandered. 

To Jared.

To his messages. To his tired voice on the phone the other night, telling you his chest was tight again. That the doctors still didn’t know what it was. That the stress was making him worse. That you working too much didn’t help. That he needed rest, not drama. That he was doing his best, even without a job, even when you made it ‘so hard.’

He was always tired. Always hurting. Always needing you. Needing your money.

So you stayed. Paid the bills. Covered his medications. Told yourself it was temporary. That when he got better, things would change.

He wasn’t cruel. Just sick.

And sick people lash out sometimes.

Right?

You hadn’t even noticed Paige sit beside you until her voice broke your cruel thoughts, “You still in there?”

“Mhmm, where else would I be?”, you hummed and nudged her shoulder with yours. 

“Somewhere happier, maybe?”

It was silent as you fiddled with the protein bar in your lap, before the blonde took it, opened it and held it to your mouth - refusing to take it away until you took a bite. The silence returned.

Your throat burned.

You looked down. “He said I should be grateful.”

A pause.

“That I’d be nothing without him. That he puts up with a lot.”

The words were quiet. Flat. Like you were repeating something you’d memorized a long time ago.Paige didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt. Just listening, her eyes focused solely on you. “He’s not well,” you added quickly, like it was a valid reason to be hurting all the time. “Always at doctors. Can’t work. He’s just… dealing with a lot.”

Paige stared ahead for a long beat.Then: “That’s not love.”

You exhaled, shaky. “He’s honest. He says I make things hard.”

“No,” she said. “I’m being honest. He’s being cruel.”

You looked at her, startled by the bluntness, not harsh, just firm. Anchoring and honest, not cruel.

“Someone who loves you doesn’t make you earn kindness,” she said. “They don’t twist things so you feel lucky to be hurt.”

You looked away.

“I didn’t think I was allowed to expect more.”

“You are.”

Silence. Heavy.

Then, barely above a whisper:

“How do you know?”

Paige’s smile was soft and sure, not smug. Just true.

“Because I’ve seen the way you take care of people. The way you show up. That’s what love looks like. And you deserve to be treated at least the same way.”

You blinked hard, eyes burning. Your shoulders curled slightly, not to hide, just to stay upright. Paige didn’t touch you. She didn’t need to.

She just kept folding.

—

You came home from a late night editing session at the Dallas Wings Staff rooms. It had been a good night, truly. Someone had ordered pizza and the whole evening was spent gossiping while trying to work. But something was off when you came home.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

There was no music, and no TV that played some dumb show Jared was melting his brain with. The only thing you could hear was the buzz of hallway lights even through the shut door. 

You shut the door behind you, softly, mindful of the other residents and the late hour. At the hallway bench you shrugged off the camera bags and clawed your way out of the damp hoodie from the walk home. 

You were late. Not by much, maybe an hour, and you didn’t have plans for the evening, but you were late nonetheless.  It was just too fun, and the editing crew had lost the feeling of time.

Stepping into the cold living room, you froze in place. The lights were off, the only thing giving light was the dull blue glow of a laptop on Jared's lap, casting shadows across his face as he sat on the couch.

Wait.

That was your laptop. Open on his lap.

And that… that was your journal doc he was reading.

The heart in your chest stopped, at least you were pretty sure of it. 

“Hey,” he greeted, voice too calm. Not even on good days he was this calm. Jared didn’t look up right away, he just kept scrolling through the document. Reading more and more of your thoughts.

Your legs turned to concrete, or fused with the ground. Either way, something rooted you in place. “What.. uhm, what are you doing?”

Now he looked at you.

Smiled.

The blue light from the laptop illuminated him from below. Making him look even scarier than he usually does. 

“You’ve been real busy in here, huh?”

His voice was even as he tapped the side of his temple. You knew he meant busy in your head and the document he was reading. His voice was measured. No heat. That was worse.

“Didn’t know I was such a fucking villain in your head.”

You opened your mouth. No sound came out.

He stood and you were still rooted in that same damn place.

“I’ve marked some quotes I really liked,” held the laptop with one hand, and with the other, gestured like he was reading aloud on a stage “You don’t mind, do you? I’ll read them out to you.”

“I keep telling myself it’s not that bad, but I don’t know what ‘bad enough’ even looks like anymore.”

“I miss who I was before him, but I don’t remember what she looked like.”

“He doesn’t hit me. That’s the bar I’ve been setting my worth to.. he doesn’t hit me.”

After every sentence he read out loud he sent a pointed glance in your direction before finally snapping the laptop shut, the sound echoing through the dark living room.

“So that’s what we’re doing now?” he said, voice sharp, finally cracking. “You run off and play house with those girls, and then come home and write about how abused you are? Is that it?”

“I.. I didn’t mean..”

“No, say it. Come on. Say it to my face. You think I’m the fucking monster in your sad little Netflix drama?”

You shook your head quickly. Too quickly. “No. No, Jared, it’s not like that. I was just, just writing. I didn’t think you’d see it.”

“Of course not,” he spat. “Because I’m just the idiot you unload on when you’re not getting your ego stroked by Paige-fucking-Bueckers.”

Your breath caught.

He laughed.

“You think she gives a shit about you? You’re her project. Her pet. You think she’s not saying the same shit about you behind your back?”

“Stop.” Your voice cracked as tears started building in your eyes.

“Or what?” he said, stepping forward. “You gonna run away? Call Paige? Have her come rescue you like a good little golden retriever?”

He was close now.

Too close.

And suddenly your body remembered every red flag you’d buried under guilt and excuses. Every apology that felt like pressure. Every “you owe me” that bled into your spine. 

Your knees shook but you still managed to turn and walk out the door. Leaving him in the dark living room.

—

You couldn’t remember much of the run there, not how you grabbed the keys or how you got into the rehab room of the Dallas Wings training facility. The lights were dim, just barely peeking in through the window of the hallway.

The phone barely had any battery left as you sat on the padded table, hands still shaking. 

You already had opened her contact card. Paige. And you stared at it too long.

Not once had you called her first, never. Not even after those really hard days you just wanna cry about. Not even after Jared’s last big blow-up. But now? It was different.

You were shivering, scared and there was no one else you could call that would just.. show up. So finally you pressed call.

It only took two rings for her to pick up, even at 1a.m. 

“Sunny?”

You didn’t mean to start crying, you really didn’t want to but it just happened. Her voice was calm, steady and a little tired.

“Can you come get me?”

You could hear rustling on the other side, a blanket being tossed aside, “Where are you?”

“Training facilities, like in the, uh, the rehab area.”

“I’m on my way. Don’t move.”

She didn’t ask anything else.

Didn’t need to hearing your sniffles through the phone was enough to tell the blonde everything she needed. You sat there in the silence, breathing in short bursts, knuckles white around your phone.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel ashamed of needing someone.

So you waited.

Curled into yourself on the therapy table, shaking like a leaf. Running through rain in only a shirt might not have been a good idea… Your phone vibrated once. Just a soft, meaningless hum, but you didn’t check it, just stared at the ground and waited.

Until the door creaked open and then somehow, the room got even colder.

Jared.

“There you are.”

You slid off the table, heart in your throat, feet stumbling backwards before you even realized you were moving.

“How did you...”

“Come on, babe. This is your hideout? Thought you’d at least pick somewhere I hadn’t seen before.”

“Jared, leave.”

“No. You don’t get to run and then make me the villain I get to defend myself.”

He stepped forward. You stepped back.

“You’ve been whining in your journal about how sick I am. Poor you. Poor little girl carrying her broken man.”

He laughed. Cold and sharp like he always did. But this time it was even scarier.

“You ever wonder why none of those doctors ever called you back? Why you never saw a single goddamn bill?”

You froze mid motion, arms up trying to build distance between you both.

“I’m not sick,” he said simply, smiling now. “Never was.”

The world slowed and time stopped.

“Then… what, uh, what..” You were speechless. It couldn’t be.. Right? Surely this was just another really bad joke.

“You were useful. You paid for shit. Got me stuff I couldn’t get on my own. Covered rent while I took care of other things.”

Your throat closed. “What things?”

He tilted his head, cruel and casual. “Couple girls I was seeing needed help. You’re not the only one who likes to take care of people. I’m a real generous guy.”

That landed like a punch to the chest.

“You- you used me,” you whispered, tears stinging in your eyes.

“Call it sponsorship,” he said. “Me and the girls like to call you my ‘scholarship fund’.”

Just silence.

And then another voice. Low, flat, furious.

“Get. Out.”

It was Paige. You couldn’t say for sure, but the look on her face made you think that she’d been waiting outside the door for a bit, listening to what Jared had to say. Her voice was like stone as when she stepped into the room. Taking up the space between you and Jared.

You could see her body still trying to catch her breath, and she was a little sweaty. She ran here. For you.

“You don’t talk to her again. You don’t come near her again.”

Jared gave her a look like he was bored already. “You think she’s gonna stay with you? You don’t know her. She needs someone to fall apart on.”

“No,” Paige said. “She needs someone who won’t break her.” She took another step forward. “And you already did.”

For the first time (maybe ever), Jared didn’t have a comeback.

He looked at you. Maybe expecting you to flinch. To cry. To chase him. But you only looked right back at him and said, “I don’t feel sorry for you anymore.”

He left after that. Just turned and walked out. No apology. No second look.

And you stood there shaking, tired, cold, but breathing.

Then Paige was beside you.

She didn’t speak right away. She just stood close, quiet, until you could bring yourself to look up and meet her eyes. She didn’t look at you with pity, no this was admiration.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered, cupping your face in her warm hands. “None of it.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t ever have to go back.”

This might have been the first time that you realized that she was right. You didn’t have to go back. Not to him. Never.

—

The car ride was silent, not the uncomfortable ‘I don’t know what to say’ silence, just quiet. Tired. Paige hadn’t asked questions, Just dragged you out to her car, pushed you down into the passenger seat and gave you a blanket from the back of her car.

When she finally pulled over into her apartment lot she glanced over at you. “You good to come in?”

“You sped there.”

You didn’t really reply to her question but the blonde took you opening the door as answer enough. “I wouldn’t say ‘sped’ just, in a slight hurry,” she winked at you, your camera bag in hand.

Paige led the way inside, everything was low-lit and calm. There were no overhead lights that blinded you, and the hallway didn’t echo in that creepy way it did at your apartment complex. As she opened her own door a citrus-y smell wafted towards you, she must have let a candle on before she came.

She locked the door behind her and set your camera bag gently down on a chair by the door, and then asked, “Hungry?”

You could only nod, too busy looking around.

“Good,” she said, already heading toward the kitchen. “Sit. Shoes off. You’re home now. For as long as you need.”

That last part hit harder than you expected. Home.

You sat at the edge of the couch while she pulled out pots and ingredients like she did this all the time. Not just for herself, but for people she wanted to keep warm and full and okay, friends and family.

“Fair warning though, I am no master chef, but we won’t starve!”

Your phone buzzed again, even though you thought the battery had died when you were still at the training facility.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t even have to look. You knew it was him. No one else messaged you, especially not at this time. Not after Jared convinced you to cut contact with your family over a year ago.

Paige glanced over from the stove.

“That him?”

You nodded once, throat too tight. She walked over, hand out. “Can I?”

You didn’t hesitate to hand it over. Jared asked for your phone all the time, to look through it. But the basketballer didn’t read it. Didn’t scold. Just silenced it, powered it down, and set it face-down on her kitchen counter before plugging it in.

“You don’t need to hear from him tonight. Or ever again, if you don’t want to.”

You blinked quickly, looking away. “He’s going to be so angry.”

“He already is,” she said softly. “And it’s not your fault, and it’s also not your job to soothe that.”

You didn’t reply. Just pulled your knees to your chest and let your eyes roam around her apartment.

It was warm, and well lit.. cozy. Shoes were stacked by the front door, sweaters thrown over the couch, shelves filled with random books, picture frames and trophies. A photo on the fridge, next to a note with a date on it ‘pasta night - 06/28 :)’. That was a team night.

“Okay, uhm, water is cooking, might still take a while. Bathroom’s down the hall, if you wanna shower. The door locks and I set out fresh towels and some clothes. We need to get you out of the wet ones.”

You were halfway to tears again, and she hadn’t even done anything dramatic. Just kept giving you space. Kept choosing not to demand anything. And she kept being so incredibly nice.

You stood under the hot water until your skin went pink and you smelled like her body wash and expensive shampoo.

When you came back out she was sitting on the couch, two plates of food in front of her. She had also changed into a different hoodie, a dry one.

“Food’s still warm, there’s more in the kitchen if you want.”

You sat beside her, plate balanced on your lap, and took a bite.

It was the best thing you’d eaten in weeks. Not because of the recipe, because of the way it made your shoulders drop. She didn’t say anything further, just started to dig in. Not a single comment about how you should watch your portion size, or if you really wanted to eat ‘all that’.

You glanced over at her.

Paige, who had taken your phone without making you feel helpless. Paige, who gave you clothes, a bathroom, her bedroom if you wanted it. Paige, who never made you beg.

Jared would’ve sulked. Would’ve asked why you weren’t grateful. Would’ve asked for something back and even more in return.

You looked down at your plate, swallowed hard, and whispered: “Thank you.”

She didn’t make it a thing. She just said, “You’re safe now.”

—

Warm sunrays made their way through the window, gently waking you up in warmth. Gone was the grey sky and rainy clouds from the last couple of days. The bed was so comfortably and warm that you didn’t even want to get up, but ultimately the small of eggs, bacon and toast managed to get you out of the bed.

You’d slept.

Not fitfully. Not half-alert. Not with one ear trained for footsteps.

Just... slept.

When you finally sat up and stretched, the couch groaned softly beneath you. Your muscles ached in that gentle way that meant you’d actually rested. No buzzing phone. No tension in your neck or jaw.

Just peace.

You padded toward the kitchen, the hoodie sleeves dragging past your fingertips, hair a mess, mouth dry and eyes still sticky with sleep.

Paige was already at the stove, moving around in socks and some old basketball shorts, humming something low and tuneless. She glanced over her shoulder when you appeared in the doorway.

“Morning.” Her voice came out rough, low and a bit gravely, still laced with sleep. 

“I think I died.”

That made her grin. “Was it peaceful?”

You rubbed your face with both hands, then dropped into the nearest chair. “Mhmm.”

A minute later, she slid a plate in front of you: eggs, toast, something sweet on the side. Real food. A proper breakfast, not just a hurried protein bar like you usually had. She poured coffee into a second mug and set it gently in front of you.

You stared at the food for a beat before saying, “I thought you didn’t like coffee.”

“I don’t, but I know you love it.”

You snorted, but you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and just desperately hoped that the blonde didn’t notice.

After a few bites, you glanced at her. “I’m not used to this,” you admitted. “Being taken care of like this.”

She didn’t flinch.

“Well,” she said, “get used to it. ‘Cus I’m not going anywhere.”

You ate in silence, just a couple of giggles at how much she disliked coffee at every grimace.

Eventually, your voice dropped to a whisper. “I had enough saved to leave for a long time. I could’ve moved out, gotten my own place, months ago.”

Paige didn’t push. She just looked at you, steady and open. “Why didn’t you?”

Your gaze dropped to your plate. “Because I was scared. Not of him... not really. Just of what it would mean if I left and he didn’t even try to stop me. If he just let me go.”

You paused, shoulders curling in.

“I was scared of what that would say about me. That I gave so much to someone who never gave a damn back.”

Paige’s voice was low, certain. Her eyes told you she was being honest and not just trying to comfort you.

“It wouldn’t say anything about you. It would say everything about him.”

You looked up.

She hadn’t moved. Still steady. Still soft. Still here.

“You stayed because you cared,” she continued. “Because you loved him the way you wished he would love you back. That doesn’t make you weak.”

Your chest tightened.

“It made me feel stupid.”

“It makes you human.”

Your eyes burned. You blinked fast and stared hard at your coffee.

“I don’t know how to do this alone.”

She reached across the table. Not to take your hand, just to set hers down, palm up, close enough if you wanted it. “You’re not alone,” she said. “Not anymore.”

You hesitated. Then slid your hand into hers.

Her fingers closed around yours. She was warm, steady, grounding. She always had been. And that’s when it felt real. Like maybe you could actually begin again.

But this time not alone.

This was... something. Let me know what you think of this fic, it's a lot heavier then I usually write but I quite liked doing it.

Also, I have ideas for a fluffier part 2, where paige and reader like actually get together and shit

[inotakumagf]

find me in the future

✶ sylus qin x gn!reader

word count ✺ 2.1K

summary ✺ you wake up next to sylus. the only problem is that you don’t know how you ended up in his arms.

warning ✺ teeny tiny bit of angst, but it all works out in the end. description of injuries & fighting. i was very inspired by would you fall in love with me again? from epic the musical and s2e7 of arcane iykyk.....sylus is so soulmate-coded. reblogs & comments are very appreciated! :)

You wake to a warm body pressed against your back. You nuzzle further into your plush pillow at the feeling, resting your hand over the strong arm across your waist. It's almost enough to lull you back to sleep. But your eyes snap open, and you jerk away. Now that your brain is not muddled with sleep, you remember that you went to bed alone. Because you have no one to share it with. 

“Sweetheart? Is everything alright?” The voice is rough with sleep, but very familiar. 

You sit up, turning to stare at the figure that was spooning you from behind. You fumble for your nightstand to flick on the switch of your lamp. It takes you a moment to find the switch and when you do, you squint at the brightness.

You blink at the man staring up at you. It’s Sylus. You know Sylus. But why is he in your bed? Why is his arm reaching out to rub against your skin? And why is he staring at you like you hung up the stars?

“I…” You don’t know what to say. He’s not the type of person to just show up in your bed uninvited. Did you go out drinking, without remembering? Did you…? 

“Did you have a nightmare, sweetheart?” He sits up and pulls you into his arms, running his large hand over your skin in comfort.

You watch as he does so, staring at the way his hands knead over you with so much familiarity. That’s when you notice the band on his ring finger. 

Your eyes widen in surprise. He’s married? You’ve never noticed him wearing a ring before, and you feel discomfort settling in your stomach at the sight of it now. He has a spouse, and yet he’s here with you.

Sylus presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Darling, I can practically hear you thinking hard. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t…” Your heart is hammering at a fast past as you try to remember how you got here. Why can’t you remember, and why is Sylus still touching on you so sweetly? The last time you had seen him, you were visiting the N109 Zone before your mission. There had been no kisses or sweet talk then. 

You rub your hands over your face roughly, and the pressure is enough to confirm that this is not a dream. Cool metal contrasts over your warm skin, and when you stare down at your hands, it starts to click together in your head.

There is a ring and wedding band on your ring finger to match Sylus’s. He runs his hands over yours soothingly, and you can see just how well his hands mold into yours. Your breath hitches with emotion.

Your confusion overwhelms you. You’ve barely been able to hold a conversation with Sylus and suddenly you’re married to him? 

The man drops his head to your shoulder and presses kisses along the skin until he reaches your jaw. “Sweetheart, you’re worrying me. Are you falling ill?”

He leans closer before pausing. His crimson eyes find yours. You can feel the warmth of his breaths. Just an inch more, and you’d be kissing him. You feel heat rush over you at the thought. You can’t lie and say you’ve never thought about what kissing Sylus would feel like. But even after becoming friendlier with the Onychinus head, he’s never indicated any affection towards you in that way.

“Is this alright?” He whispered against your skin.

You hesitate. This Sylus wants to kiss you, but only because he thinks you’re his spouse. You are an entirely different person than who he believes, and the thought of kissing him under questionable circumstances feels wrong.

You pull back slightly. “Sorry, I just…I don’t think I feel well.”

He smiles softly at you, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. Shall I fetch a cool towel for you? Or some tea? What can I do to make you feel better?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of a radio crackles to life. You can hear a baby screaming. Your body is on high alert at the sound, but Sylus just chuckles and throws the duvet off of his side of the bed.

He leans over to press a kiss to the top of your head and says, “Rest. I’ll check on Josephine.”

When he leaves, it takes you a full moment to recover. Josephine? Not only are you married, but you have a baby girl too? How could you forget something like that? Once your mind clears, you follow Sylus out of the room. It’s hard to navigate the unfamiliar home, especially in the dark. But you follow the wailing of the baby to a nearby room. The door is slightly ajar, and you can hear Sylus’s deep voice.

“I’m right here, peanut. Nothing will ever harm you, not with me to protect you. I don’t suppose you’ll finally let me sing you to sleep? I swear I’ve been practicing.”

Even though she can’t understand him, baby Josephine gurgles a response.

You push the door open the rest of the way. Sylus is standing over a crib with a one year old in his arms. He turns at the creak of the door. The little girl has your hair texture in a silver shade that matches her father. You step closer slowly. You lift your hand to run the knuckle of your index finger over her smooth cheek. She turns her head so that she can gnaw on your finger. You smile softly at her.

“You should have stayed in bed, I can lull her back to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

You stare down at the baby and then up at Sylus. You can feel tears accumulating, so you look back down to hide them. “I just wanted to see her.”

Sylus shifts Josephine so that she’s cradled securely in his left arm, and he uses the other arm to bring you close to his side. He kisses your forehead and keeps his lips there, causing your eyes to flutter shut. You could get used to this very easily. 

You would have never thought that the stoic and grumpy man would ever behave like this. You wish you could remember how you got to this moment, if only to understand how Sylus’s attitude towards you could change so drastically.

It's not that he is hateful or rude, he’s just very closed off, and all your attempts at getting to know him better are always shot down. 

Sylus sighs and mumbles into your skin, “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you now, but promise you’ll come to me if you need to let it out. I hate seeing you so upset.”

You nod as much as you can in his hold. Josephine has fallen back asleep with the gentle rocking that Sylus has been doing, so he lowers her back into her crib.

Once she’s down, he turns to you and sweeps you off your feet. You gasp and wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself. You shoot him a glare, but he just chuckles and nuzzles his nose into your skin. 

“‘M sorry, darling. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You rest your head against his chest, drifting off to the sound of his beating heart.

It feels like only a moment has passed when you wake, flinching at the pain that overwhelms your body. Strong arms cradle you against a solid chest. It takes a second for the ringing in your ears to clear, and you can hear someone talking.

“Mx. Hunter, can you hear me? You need to stay awake.”

Sylus is looking down at you, brows furrowed in concern. You’re in the same position as you were moments ago, except you’re outside and in so, so much pain. You must have been hit in the chest, because each breath you take is a short gasp.

“What…happened?” you wheeze out. 

“Mephisto was flying above when he saw your fight with the Wanderer. He told me that after it hit you, you disappeared for sometime.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Disappeared?”

“The Wanderer was an Elite Herte Knave. Worrisome creatures, because of how they alter time and space with their attacks. It must have displaced you somewhere nearby, because you returned as soon as I defeated it.” Sylus’s tone of voice is back to the stiff way of speaking that you’ve been used to. He won’t even look you in the eye anymore. 

“You can put me down,” you mumble. “I can walk just fine.”

He glares at you. “Oh, you’re fine, are you? When I found you, I thought you were dead because of how still you were. You can’t rush into a fight like this with little regard for your safety. It’s irresponsible, and I’d expect more from a Hunter of your caliber.”

The stark contrast between how Sylus spoke to you before versus now makes your heart sink. Even now as you’re injured, he finds time to scold you. Had the Herte Knave manipulated your mind and made you see a future you could never have? Is it that cruel?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize quietly. You’re angry at yourself for thinking that what you saw could be anything more than an illusion. 

His eyes lock on you instantly. Sylus takes in your subdued demeanor, and he sighs. “I apologize for my tone. I was…worried about you. I don’t want to lose you.”

You stare at him, and it’s his turn to look away. “I mean, we can’t have Linkon City’s finest Hunter dying, can we?”

“Can you put me down now? I need to get back to headquarters to give Captain Jenna my report.” You want to get away as fast as possible, if only to defuse your embarrassment.

Sylus’s hands tighten around you. “You’re in no shape to go anywhere, especially not back to work. Let me take care of you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you argue. “I can go to the hospital.”

Sylus stares at you with a look you can’t decipher. “If…that’s what you want. I apologize. I considered calling the Association to tip them about your state, but I worried you might be too wounded by the time backup arrived. I can bring you to Akso Hospital and…I won’t bother you again.”

Your brows furrow. “What? You’re not–I don’t want that.”

“Then what can I do? Ask, and it’s yours.”

“Why are you acting so weird?” Your frustration has only gotten stronger with each vague response from Sylus.

“I understand that you’re uncomfortable around me, so I’ll leave you alone,” he says, looking anywhere but at you.

You grab his lower jaw and tilt his stubborn face towards you. “I don’t want you to leave. Why would you think that, after everything?”

He lets you squeeze his cheeks, staring at you with a strange look in his eyes. It’s almost…vulnerable.

“You don’t want me to carry you, or treat your wounds,” he practically whispers. “And you’re always angry at me. I’ve clearly overextended my welcome in your life.”

You stare at him, mouth agape. “You’re…you can’t be serious. I thought you hated me. I thought you were tired of my behavior. I’m always provoking you.”

Sylus shakes his head, “I’m…sorry. I don’t intend to be so gruff all the time. I enjoy your company, and your antics.”

Your treacherous heart is beating a million miles a minute. “Then…”

He smiles, and you're relieved to see him nearly back to normal. “Then I’ll patch you up at my home. And,” he hesitates for a moment, “perhaps you can stay. Until you’re healed, of course.”

He waits for your answer, large hands tightening their grip at your thighs and over your side. You want to sink into the touch, and intertwine your soul with his if it were possible.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly. “I think I should.”

Sylus smiles, and you almost feel his relief. “Good,” he murmurs.

His eye catches something, and his lips pout in thought. You look down to see what has caught his attention. He’s staring at your hand, where there are cuts and bruises left as evidence of the Wanderer attack. But what stands out against all of those wounds is the band of indentation on your ring finger. Your breath catches as you stare at the mark, running your thumb over it gently. You smile, leaning your head against Sylus’s chest.

You don’t know what your future holds, but you know for certain that you want—need—Sylus in it.

[prettyoatmeal]

Thinking about meeting Simon with his freshly bleached hair only to find out he's a natural brunette <3

I'm not sure how canon it is but I saw a tweet a while ago that Ghost bleaches his hair blond and I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

You'd always just assumed he was a natural blond. You never really paid much attention to the hair on his arms because why would you? And you never see his legs as his dresser only consists of long cargo pants. His eyebrows weren't too much darker from the blond anyway.

You had no reason to think otherwise. Which only embarrasses him even more when you do find out. He knew you were going to find out eventually, but he never actually thought that far ahead.

He doesn't get time to fix his hair on base so it's only natural that he comes back with his roots grown out. It's a stark contrast to the rest of his bleach blond hair. So when you finally get to see your sweet Simon after half a year, you can't help but immediately notice the change.

At the time he wished you would've just ignored it, but when you caught that initial glimpse of his hair, your hands immediately invaded his scalp. It didn't help either that his hair grew fast.

"You never told me you weren't a natural blond."

"It never came up." he answered gruffly, his uncomfortable shuffling contrasting with the way he leaned his head down slightly and allowed you to inadvertently play with his hair. It felt nice, but he didn't want to admit it then when he was acting aloof.

"It looks nice," you'd say, and he'd scoff. You'd say again, "you look good in brown. Matches your eyes," and he'd just grunt again, acting irritated. Though the way he let out a content sigh as his eyes closed told you otherwise.

*************** DISCLAIMER Under no circumstances do I give permission to copy, repost, or manipulate my work in any way. I am not comfortable with this. If you wish to translate my work, message me privately. My inbox is always open.

[jaehaeryshater]

The King Come Over and his bride Ygritte Firekissed

art by : @shripscapi

Look at my King dawg we’re definitely getting through the Wall!!!

For the last month and a half, I have been working closely with Liesl to design concepts for Jon as King Beyond the Wall and Ygritte as his Queen. Personally, I’m not invested at all in Jon becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms despite him being my favorite character. He’s not very connected with the South and I don’t feel that it’s his birth right or anything, even being the son of Rhaegar. I am significantly more interested in him becoming King in the North, but my interest in Freefolk culture has led me to be far more invested in the idea of him rejecting Southron society as a whole and becoming King Beyond the Wall (this isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive to being King in the North later on).

The motivation for Jon becoming King as opposed to Mance stems from a theory that has been around since AGOT has come out: that the Others will only treat with/negotiate with a Stark. In the prologue of AGOT, when the Others are speaking among themselves before killing the Watchmen, what if they were confirming with each other that Waymar Royce was not a Stark and that they could go ahead and kill him? All in all, it doesn’t really matter if this is true, but rather that this is a plausible rumor that could easily have been passed down among the Freefolk which could lead Mance to conclude that Jon as a leader would give the Freefolk the best chance of survival. It’s not very hard, at least in my opinion, to imagine an AU like this, since survival is the most important thing to the Freefolk during the events of ASOIAF. But is it plausible that under these circumstances that Jon would abandon his Night’s Watch vows? I think so if he can be led to believe that only Stark blood could defeat the Others, but that is not the only factor. Jon Snow is insecure about his bastard status, plain and simple. He’s always lived in the shadow of his Robb, though he loved him. He’s wanted Winterfell, though he didn’t want to nor had any intention to take it from Robb. But he’s known since he was a small boy that he could never Winterfell and that would never inherit anything because he was a bastard. Jon also has thoughts, at least in passing, that Ned loved Robb more than him. He perceives Ned as having been more proud of Robb, of looking at him differently than himself. He’s seemingly always believed this, but there is a sort of confirmation of Jon’s feelings when Ned allows him to join the Night’s Watch without much preparation on what the Watch is actually like. Fully me making assumptions here, not something Jon has explicitly thought, but it’s unlikely that Ned would have sent Bran off at 14 to the Watch without much warning of what it was like, had Bran not become paralyzed. While we never get this exact thought process from Jon, in my opinion it fits into his psychology and insecurity. All this to say, if Jon is offered to be a figurehead, King, a title equal to his brother, but without taking anything away from the Starks or from Robb, that would almost certainly scratch that itch in him. It would be of his own merit, and there would be people behind him that don’t care that he’s a bastard, don’t see him as less than, and are willing to accept him for who he is. Not to mention that it also lets him feel like a hero and as if he is saving something far more precious than himself. And it probably doesn’t hurt that he would be able to remain with Ygritte as well.

We know from the descriptions of Mance and Dalla, as well as from being told directly by the former, that the King and his wife dress like all the other Freefolk, in thick furs. While the Jon and Ygritte arts from above are not particularly ostentatious by Southron standards, they are in obvious contrast to how Mance and Dalla are dressed. My idea was that Jon, having lived South of the Wall in a Lord’s keep all of his life, brought his own ideas to the Freefolk and added a distinction between a King and all other men. Nothing like in King’s Landing, all changes are inspired by his experience at Winterfell. I tried to think of what was achievable by the Freefolk, that would be difficult enough that it can’t be easily replicated for everyone else, but also keeping in mind of what could be done relatively quickly seeing as the Freefolk are focused on migrating South and saving themselves from the Others. The cultures I took inspiration for the clothing from are the Byzantines, Russians, Incans, Aztecs, and Mongolians. I wanted more “open” and flowy clothing, as opposed to more closed off and excessively modest clothing of 1300-1500s Europe that most of Westeros is based off of. Ygritte is still wearing furs, but they are dyed and there is weirwood embroidery in symbolism of the Old Gods and flame embroidery to symbolize her being kissed by fire. Her jewelry are simply clay beads that have been powdered blue. I didn’t want to give her any jewels as I felt it would be too difficult for the Freefolk to cut them directly and just overall would be against the spirit of the Freefolk. However, getting the blue on the clay like that still would be expensive and take a lot of time. I tried to keep the main color scheme surrounding gray as obviously that’s House Stark’s color. Jon’s clothes are similarly nice, with my main concern being him looking intimidating. I want the furs around his shoulders to be black because I wanted to call back to his time in the Night’s Watch without him keeping his psychical cloak, because I’m sure the Freefolk would not want him to do that. The furs are massive and make his shoulders look far larger, in an effort to make him look more intimidating, especially on a battlefield or in negotiations. He also has weirwood embroidery and his sigil is on the front of his outfit (my original idea was for him to have a flag with his heraldry on it, in which case the sigil would have looked far different, with a full length direwolf). There’s a white wolf on one side and either a crow or eagle on the other side (up for interpretation, both are relevant to Jon and one is one of the animals that can be used a symbol of the Freefolk) and the flame in the middle to represent Ygritte, but also defeating the Others as fire is the way Jon originally tried combating them as a steward at the Wall. The sigil is more than about Jon, after all, as it’s for the entirety of House Whitewolf, the House he founds. I thought the name fit far more in to Freefolk culture than something like Whitestark or something along those lines. Ygritte was supposed to have sewn on the sigil herself, and was very adamant about it, and that is meant to be why the thread is uneven and more visible than it ought to be. She’s not very good at the craft!

As I indicated before, crowns are not something common to Freefolk. That would be something else Jon would implement. Ygritte’s crown is very much like a hat, very casual. The beads are nice but obtaining them wouldn’t be unheard of, and holly most likely would not be particularly hard to come by. The reason I gave her a crown with holly is that during Christmas in the Tudor period and even before during pagan celebrations, people would go out into the woods and find holly and ivy to decorate their houses with. Holly was a symbol of masculine energy and ivy feminine energy. If you found more holly, it was meant to indicate that the man would rule the household for the year, and if you found more ivy then the woman would rule the household in the coming year (this was a way to “tell the future” not a rule lol). I liked the holly better for Ygritte so I’m just saying the Freefolk had the opposite belief. Jon’s crown is made of weirwood, which was important to me as I feel like his connection the Old Gods is also important as it is something that him and Freefolk both use to guide them. It ties them together. That being said, a weirwood crown is often used for Bran so I did not want to use a design that was too similar to the one used for him. Bran’s weirwood crown usually is made of weirwood branches, however, and not weirwood bark or logs, so I feel like it’s different enough. The frozen weirwood sap, as far as I know, is also unique to this design. There’s also some ivy to parallel with Ygritte’s holly.

The remaining bits and bobs I wanted to explain are the blue rose and then the face paint. The blue rose is obviously something associated with Lyanna Stark, who is widely accepted to be the mother of Jon Snow. I originally wanted to give him a rose somewhere, whether he was holding it or it was in his embroidery, but I forgot to ask during sketching, and then it was too late. But Ygritte holding the blue rose isn’t just about Lyanna. It’s also about Bael the Bard, a most likely fictitious person (or at least, the tale is fictitious, though I personally choose to believe it’s real) that went South of the Wall posing as a bard. He impressed the Lord of Winterfell so much that he granted Bael anything he wished; all Bael asked for was the most beautiful flower in Winterfell. This was granted for him, but the next morning he had stolen the Lord of Winterfell’s only child, a girl, and had left the flower in her bed in her place. He hid in the crypt with her for a year and they had a son together. Bael eventually went back North of the Wall and eventually Winterfell, having no other heir, passed to Bael’s child. Under this story, Jon is descended from Ygritte’s idol (maybe idol is stretching it, but she really likes him), Bael the Bard. Not only him, but all the Freefolk including Ygritte, according to her story. Following the story’s premise, Jon also poses as Bael and Ygritte as Winterfell’s daughter, with Jon joining her home under false pretenses and “stealing her”, as she calls it. So the blue rose has significance regarding both the Starks and the Freefolk. The face paint is inspired by tattooing done by cultures indigenous to North America. Indigenous Americans are not the only groups to use facial tattooing, the Vikings were famous for it as well, but Viking facial tattooing had more patterns based on shapes rather than lines and dots. I didn’t like the shapes so much, but the chin tattoo was one was that observed in all sorts of different cultures. Usually the chin tattoos with the line were on women in indigenous America, but I found some on men in other outside cultures. The dots I didn’t see outside of Native American culture and the claw marks on Jon’s cheeks I found mainly among Vikings. Because these all are an amalgamation of different cultures, we did them as face paint instead of tattoos because it seemed disrespectful otherwise. Not enough research went into it to be a proper representation of any one culture so paint was a better bet than a permanent body modification that is sacred to a number of cultures. The only thing that was meant to be a tattoo was the chin tattoo, which like I said, actually is from an amalgamation of cultures. Among the Freefolk (in this AU), dots on the cheeks are widespread, one of cultural mainstays of their people, and are generally a sign of peace, whereas the claws are meant to look intimidating and is applied to look like blood (Ygritte applies it for Jon) and is specifically used for military leaders. I really wanted to drive home the point that the goal with Jon’s whole look is to look fearsome.

I have so much more to say about Jon as King Beyond the Wall, how he negotiates with the Wall, the different rules he sets in place, how he sets up being King as a hereditary title once his daughter Bael is born, etc etc, but then I’d be here all day and approximately one person total read through all this. Oops! Ask in my inbox if you have any questions because I would love love love to answer them. All in all, shripscapi (Liesl) is so talented and she worked incredibly hard for me. She was extremely accommodating and changed as much stuff as I wanted. She never complained about the million times I decided something was not quite right and she sent me so many updates. I would recommend working with her to just about anybody. It was very cool what she was able to achieve and I got it in time for the holidays so I can enjoy my winter themed pfp on twt. So thank you from the bottom of my heart Liesl, and I hope everyone showers her with compliments because she deserves it. I also hope that people that don’t enjoy Ygritte very much can still appreciate the art and the concept of Jon as King Beyond the Wall. Hopefully I’ve gotten across how much I love and care for these characters to a chronically online degree and nobody accuses me of mischaracterizing them because that would make me!!!! very sad!!!

Bonus Jon with weirwood leaves:

[ariadne-mouse]

EXU Divergence is such a stark tonal contrast from so much else we have seen from Exandria, even Calamity, which was about a group of wealthy elites during a time of opulence even if the circumstances became dire, or Downfall, where there was scarcity but it mostly served as a counterpart to Aeor's security before the focal point moved. That the journey of Divergence so quickly becomes about the material impact of not having food and water - fundamental mechanics that are usually only the faintest of background noise even for lower-level adventurers - such that simply the falling of rain becomes a transformative ecstatic moment, like huge kudos to Brennan and the cast for continuing to make something new with familiar tools. I was curious upon the start exactly how the story would handle level 0 characters with few abilities or means in such an intense setting, and this is how. Zoomed-in stakes, and absence. No combat, just choices, each one of which could mean life or death for someone, and so each decision is exquisitely connected to who the characters are and why what they are doing is meaningful. No big damn heroes. Just ordinary people doing the best they can.

[flux1563]

Happy Birthday ft karina and winter

Words : 11k

Tags : just read it

Karina stood in front of the mirror, her heart racing as she admired her reflection. Her hourglass figure was the envy of many, with curves that could make any outfit look like it was painted on her body. Her ass, a perfect bubble that seemed to defy gravity, was the subject of countless whispers and rumors among her fans and colleagues. Her boobs, full and round, had the power to turn heads wherever she went. The reflection staring back at her was a testament to years of hard work and discipline. As the leader of aespa, she knew she had to look her best, especially on days like today.

Winter, on the other hand, sat at the vanity with a frown. Her body was slender, almost too thin in the industry's harsh light. She had always felt inadequate when standing next to Karina, with her own average-sized breasts and ass. Her skin was her saving grace, so pale it was almost translucent, a stark contrast to the tanned bodies that were so popular. She picked up the letter she had written, her thoughts racing. This was her chance to make Karina's birthday special, to show her how much she appreciated her.

"Hey, Karina!" Winter called out, her voice echoing through the shared dressing room. "You've got a surprise waiting for you!"

Karina turned, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. She had always loved surprises, especially from her fellow bandmates. She strutted over, her hips swaying in a way that made the fabric of her dress cling to her curves. "What's this?" she asked, her voice dripping with excitement.

Winter handed her the envelope, her hands shaking slightly. "It's just a little something I wanted to give you."

Karina took the envelope with a smile, her curiosity piqued. She felt a sudden thrill at the thought of a secret midnight rendezvous. She knew Winter had always had a flair for the dramatic, but this was something else. The instructions were simple, yet they sent a shiver down her spine. A penthouse at 12 AM, dressed only in a long dress with no panties and bra beneath. It was bold, it was risky, but it was also incredibly tantalizing.

As the day went on, Karina couldn't help but think about the letter. She wondered what kind of surprise Winter had planned for her. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more daring and thrilling than the last. The anticipation was killing her, but she knew she had to keep her cool. After all, she was the leader of aespa, and she had a public image to maintain.

The hours ticked by, and soon it was time for the concert. Karina pushed thoughts of the letter to the back of her mind as she stepped onto the stage, her confidence radiating out to the thousands of fans screaming her name. The lights, the music, the adoration—it was all a rush of energy that fueled her performance. But as the final notes of the last song played out and the applause faded into the night, she couldn't help but feel a tug of excitement for what was to come.

Finally, the clock struck midnight. Karina slipped away from the after-party, her heart pounding in her chest. The penthouse was only a short drive away, and she knew exactly which one was Winter's. She had been there before, but never under such... intimate circumstances. She arrived and took a deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. As she stepped out of the elevator, she could feel the cool air brush against her bare legs. The dress was indeed long, but it was also sheer, revealing her lack of underwear. She felt a mix of excitement and vulnerability as she approached the door, the anticipation of what lay behind it almost too much to handle.

Winter answered almost immediately, her eyes lighting up as she took in Karina's attire. "Wow, your nipples are hard," she said with a laugh, unable to hide her surprise and delight. Karina felt a blush spread across her cheeks, but she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her body at the sight of Winter's eager gaze. The cold air had indeed done its work, making her nipples stand at attention, clearly visible through the flimsy material of her dress.

The penthouse was dimly lit, with only a few candles flickering around the room, casting an eerie yet romantic glow. The floor was littered with rose petals, leading to a large bed adorned with silk sheets. Winter had clearly gone all out for this surprise. She took Karina's hand and led her to the bed, her own heart racing with excitement. Karina's eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail. There was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket, and a box of chocolates rested on the bedside table.

Winter wore a simple black tank top that clung to her small breasts, showcasing their perky firmness. Her nipples were already hard, poking through the fabric, and Karina couldn't help but stare. It was clear that she wasn't wearing a bra, and the thought sent a jolt of desire through her. Winter had chosen not to wear any underwear either, the thin strip of fabric barely visible beneath the tank top. Karina felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch her, to explore the softness of her skin.

"What's the plan?" Karina asked again, her voice thick with anticipation. Winter's eyes twinkled mischievously as she pulled Karina closer, her breath hot against her neck. "You'll see," she whispered, her hand slipping into the fold of Karina's dress, tracing the curve of her ass. "But first, we need to get you relaxed."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, jolting them out of their moment. Winter's expression grew even more playful as she squeezed Karina's hand. "I guess the party's starting early," she said, a hint of something else in her voice.

Karina's eyes widened as the door swung open to reveal not one, but twenty muscular black men dressed in matching tuxedos, each holding a bouquet of roses. They filled the room, their deep voices blending into a harmonious chorus of "Happy Birthday." Winter had gone all out, hiring an entire flash mob to serenade her. The sight was overwhelming, a mix of excitement and bewilderment flooding through her. The men's gazes were respectful but filled with an undeniable admiration for the two beautiful women before them.

Winter stepped aside, revealing the true intent behind the surprise. "This isn't just any party, Karina. It's a celebration of you, for you. Twenty of the most attractive and attentive men in the city, all here to make your birthday wishes come true."

Karina's jaw dropped as the reality of the situation hit her. The tension in the room was palpable, a heady mix of excitement and nervousness. The men, with their broad shoulders and chiseled jaws, looked at her with a hunger that made her stomach flip. She had never been the center of attention like this, especially not in such an intimate setting. Her eyes darted to Winter, seeking reassurance, but all she found was a knowing smirk.

One by one, the men began to strip, their movements precise and practiced. The first few layers of clothing fell away to reveal their taut abs and bulging biceps. As they reached the last piece of clothing, their pants, they each pulled out a pair of velvet boxers, which were strategically designed to showcase their massive erections. Each man's cock was at least twelve inches long, with a thickness that would make any woman's knees go weak. The sight was overwhelming, and Karina could feel her own arousal growing, her pussy tightening in anticipation.

Winter leaned in and whispered into Karina's ear, "You can handle it. You're a goddess, and they're here to worship you. Just let go and enjoy the night."

Karina's eyes remained wide with both excitement and trepidation as she took in the sea of naked men surrounding her. She had never experienced anything like this before—her heart was racing, and she could feel her arousal growing with each passing second. Winter's words echoed in her mind, giving her a sense of empowerment that she had never felt before.

The first ten men approached Karina, their eyes full of lust and admiration. They began to gently touch her, their hands gliding over her bare skin like warm silk. Their kisses were soft and feather-light, leaving a trail of fire wherever their lips touched. Karina's body responded instinctively, arching into their touch, her own hands reaching out to explore the muscular planes of their chests and abs. The men were careful, almost reverent in their actions, as if they knew that even the slightest misstep could shatter the delicate balance of power in the room.

Meanwhile, Winter was not forgotten. The other ten men had surrounded her, each eager to claim their share of her delicate form. They started with gentle pecks on her neck and cheeks before moving to the softness of her full lips. Their hands began to wander, caressing her shoulders, tracing the lines of her collarbones, and finally cupping her small, firm breasts. Winter moaned softly, her nipples stiffening under their touch. She looked up into their eyes, her own filled with a mix of lust and mischief, daring them to go further.

The tension grew as clothes were removed, revealing the full extent of their desire. Karina's dress fell to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her heels. The men took turns kissing her neck, her shoulders, and her breasts, each one eager to taste the sweetness of her skin. Their hands explored her body, squeezing her ass cheeks and sliding up her thighs, teasing the wetness that was already gathering between her legs.

Winter's tank top was lifted over her head, revealing her perfect pale breasts to the hungry eyes of the men. They took turns sucking and biting her nipples, eliciting gasps and moans from the young idol. Her own hands were busy unbuckling belts and pushing pants down, revealing the impressive erections that awaited her.

"Ahh, so good, keep it going," Karina managed to say between the kisses and touches, her voice strained with pleasure. The men took this as a cue to intensify their efforts, their hands becoming more insistent, their kisses more demanding. Winter mirrored Karina's response, her voice a soft whine of pleasure as she was laid back on the bed.

The scene was a blur of limbs and passion as the men worked in harmony to pleasure the two idols. For Winter, it was an overwhelming sensation, her body responding to the skilled hands and mouths of the men around her. They took turns, one licking and suckling her nipples while another kissed down her stomach, his tongue tracing the delicate line of her navel before dipping lower, teasing the fabric of her panties. Her legs quivered as she felt a wet, hot tongue slip beneath the elastic, brushing against the soft hairs of her mound.

"Ahh, so good," Winter moaned, her eyes fluttering shut. The man between her legs was a master, his tongue flicking against her clit with the precision of a maestro conducting an orchestra. She could feel herself getting wetter, her body begging for more, and the men were more than happy to oblige.

The room was a symphony of passionate noises: the sound of kisses, the rustle of fabric, the wet smack of tongues against skin. Karina's moans grew louder as the men took turns lapping at her clit, their fingers delving into her tight ass and soaking pussy. Each thrust sent a bolt of pleasure through her body, making her hips buck and her toes curl. She had never felt so exposed, so desired.

The tension grew unbearable as the men worked in unison, their movements becoming more intense. Karina felt a hand slide up her thigh, the heat of it sending shivers down her spine. The finger circled her pussy before plunging in, the sudden intrusion making her gasp. At the same time, another hand began to massage her asshole, the sensation foreign but oddly pleasurable. Her eyes rolled back in her head, lost in the sensation of being filled so completely.

And then it happened. A wave of pleasure crashed over Karina, making her entire body convulse as she squirted, her juices soaking the bed beneath her. The sight was too much for the men, their eyes glazed with lust as they watched the evidence of her climax spray across their chests. Winter, not to be outdone, arched her back off the bed, her body shaking with the force of her own orgasm. Her pussy clenched around the fingers inside her, and she felt a gush of wetness as she too squirted, her body releasing in a display of pure ecstasy.

The men stepped back, giving the two women a moment to catch their breath. Winter looked over at Karina, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed with pleasure. "Ahh, that was so much," Their panted, their voice thick with satisfaction.

Karina nodded, her chest still heaving from the intensity of her orgasm. "But we're not done yet," she said with a smirk, her eyes gleaming with a newfound hunger. She turned to the men, her gaze traveling over the sea of hard cocks before her. "Who's first?"

The men looked at each other, a silent challenge passing between them. The first one stepped forward, his cock standing tall and proud. Karina opened her mouth wide, her jaw aching with the effort as she took the tip into her mouth. She could feel the man's heartbeat through the veins that pulsed against her tongue, the taste of him salty and intoxicating. Winter watched, her own desire growing as she saw the way Karina's lips stretched around the massive girth.

Without missing a beat, Winter followed suit, taking the second man's cock in her mouth. It was thick and warm, and she had to stretch her jaw to the limit to accommodate it. The feeling of power was exhilarating, and she could feel the man's body tremble as she swirled her tongue around the head.

They took turns, moving from one cock to the next, their mouths and tongues working in unison to bring each man to the brink of pleasure.

But as they grew more comfortable with the rhythm, something unexpected happened. The first man who Karina was sucking suddenly pulled away, his eyes locked on hers as he positioned himself between her legs. Before she couldn't even react, he pushed his cock into her pussy, filling her in one smooth, powerful stroke. The surprise of the sudden penetration made her gasp, but the pleasure quickly overwhelmed any shock.

Winter watched, her eyes widening as she realized what was happening. The man before her did the same, pulling out of her mouth and moving behind her. She felt the blunt tip of his cock press against her pussy, and despite the initial shock, she found herself pushing back, eager to feel him inside her.

With a gentle yet firm hand, he guided himself in, inch by inch, stretching her open until he was fully sheathed in her tight, velvety heat. The sensation was intense, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent her mind reeling. The room grew even hotter, the air thick with the scent of lust as the men began to thrust, their movements coordinated and deliberate.

Karina's eyes met Winter's, and she saw the same wild desire reflected there. Winter had whispered those words with a mix of awe and envy, her voice heavy with lust. "U are such a slut, Karina," she had said, and there was no judgment, only admiration in her tone. Karina felt a thrill run through her at the thought, her pussy clenching around the cock inside her. Was she a slut? Perhaps. But tonight, she didn't care. Tonight, she was going to live out every fantasy she had ever dared to dream of.

The men took turns fucking both of them, their rhythms becoming more erratic and desperate as they approached their own climaxes. Karina's pussy was a wet, tight fist around the cocks that plunged into her, and she reveled in the feeling of being used, of being filled to the brim with so much cock. She watched as Winter's eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth open in a silent scream, as the men took her in every way imaginable. Winter's body was a canvas of pleasure, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat as the men worked her over, each one eager to leave their mark.

Karina couldn't help but whisper to Winter as she was pounded from behind, "Look at that pussy, it can't get enough of the big dick," her voice filled with a mix of amazement and lust. Winter's eyes snapped open, and she stared at Karina with a fiery intensity, her pupils dilated with desire. She nodded, her mouth a perfect O of pleasure as she felt the cock inside her hit just the right spot.

But the night was far from over. As the men grew bolder, one of them approached Karina from behind, his cock standing tall and slick with precum. She felt a sudden pressure against her tight asshole, and she knew what was about to happen. She braced herself as he pushed inside, the sensation of being stretched open sending waves of pleasure through her body. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she adjusted to the intrusion. It was painful at first, but she quickly grew accustomed to the feeling, her body opening up to the new sensation.

Winter watched, her eyes glued to the sight of her friend's face contorted in pleasure. She had always been curious about anal, and now she knew she had to experience it for herself. She whispered to the man behind her, "Please, I want it too," her voice barely above a breath.

The man grinned, his teeth gleaming in the candlelight as he positioned his cock at her entrance. Winter felt the same pressure building, the same delicious anticipation as he pushed into her ass. It burned at first, but she knew she could take it. After all, she was made of stronger stuff than most. The sensation of being filled so completely was overwhelming, and she moaned as he began to move in time with the others.

Karina's eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth open in a silent scream. The feeling of two cocks inside her was like nothing she had ever experienced before. The pain melded with pleasure, creating a symphony of sensation that had her entire body trembling. She could feel the men's muscles flexing, their hips pistoning as they drove into her, and she knew she was in for the ride of her life.

Winter's own moans grew louder as she too was filled with cock, the sensation of being double penetrated sending her over the edge. Her body was a taut bowstring, ready to snap with the tension of unbridled lust. The men took no mercy, their strokes becoming more erratic and forceful.

As Karina's moans grew louder, another man stepped forward, his cock bobbing eagerly before her. He didn't bother with words, simply grabbing her chin and guiding his shaft into her open mouth. She took it with surprising ease, the feeling of fullness overwhelming as she was sandwiched between two thick cocks. The taste of him mixed with the salty tang of her own desire, and she couldn't help but moan around the new intrusion, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through the man fucking her.

Winter, not to be outdone, spread her legs wider, inviting the next man to fill her mouth as well. He didn't hesitate, pushing his cock deep down her throat, making her eyes water. She choked and gagged, but the feeling of being so completely used was exhilarating. Her body was a playground for these men, and she had never felt more alive.

The men took turns, filling every hole with their thick, pulsing members. Karina felt another cock at her entrance, the tip of it probing at her already-stuffed pussy. She looked up at the man, her eyes pleading, but all she saw was a look of primal hunger. He didn't need an invitation. With a grunt, he pushed inside her, the added pressure making her eyes roll back in her head.

The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent her spiraling into an endless abyss of ecstasy. Winter could feel the same happening to her, the third cock stretching her tight pussy until she thought she might split in two. But she didn't stop, she didn't protest. This was what she had always craved, what she had never admitted to herself. To be used, to be filled, to be the center of attention for so many men.

Their moans grew louder, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the penthouse. The men grunted and growled, their bodies moving in a primal dance of lust. Karina could feel her orgasm building, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter. And when it hit, it was like nothing she had ever felt before. Her body spasmed, her pussy contracting around the cocks inside her, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Winter's orgasm followed quickly, her body trembling as she felt the warmth of the man's cum filling her ass. She swallowed the load in her mouth, her eyes never leaving Karina's. The two of them were in a world of their own, a place where only pleasure existed. They had transcended any semblance of reality, lost in a haze of lust and desire.

And then, as if by some silent command, they all came together. The men's bodies tensed, their cocks pulsing as they filled Karina and Winter with their hot seed. The room was filled with the scent of sex, the air thick with the musk of desire. The two idols lay there, their bodies shaking with the aftershocks of their shared climax, their eyes locked in a silent promise of more to come.

The night stretched out before them, a canvas of endless possibility. They had only just begun to explore the depths of their desires, and already they were insatiable. The men, spent but still eager, pulled out, their cocks glistening with the girls' juices. Karina and Winter lay there, their bodies sticky with cum, their hearts pounding in their chests. They knew that this was just the beginning.

Their breaths coming in ragged gasps, they looked into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. This was a night they would never forget, a night that would change the very fabric of their friendship. They had crossed a line, one that could never be uncrossed. But as they lay there, their bodies entwined and their hearts racing, they knew that they had found something special, something that would bind them together forever.

But even as their bodies grew slick with sweat and cum, the two idols knew that the night was far from over. They had only just begun to explore the depths of their desires, and already they were insatiable. The men around them were eager, their cocks still hard and demanding. And so, with a grin that was part challenge and part invitation, Karina turned to Winter and said, "Ready for round two?"

Winter's eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly. The two of them lay back, legs spread wide, as the men lined up again. The sixth man stepped forward, his cock already at attention. Karina took his length in her mouth, her eyes watering with the effort as she tried to deep-throat him. Winter watched with envy, her own mouth watering as she felt the ache in her jaw from the first round. But she knew she could handle it—she had to.

The man behind Karina didn't waste any time, pushing his cock back into her ass, filling her up once more. She groaned around the shaft in her mouth, the sensation of being so full making her pussy clench around the cock that was still lodged deep inside her. Meanwhile, Winter felt another man enter her pussy, his thickness stretching her out even further. She could feel the wetness of the previous man's cum mixing with her own juices, making it easier for him to slide in.

And then it began again. The men took turns, fucking them with a passion that was almost violent in its intensity. Karina's moans grew muffled as the cock in her mouth worked its way down her throat, and she had to fight not to gag. Winter, on the other hand, was a vision of pure wantonness, her mouth full and her pussy and ass being pounded in a relentless rhythm that had her screaming for more.

The feeling of being so completely used was intoxicating, a high that neither of them had ever experienced before. They had become the embodiment of desire, the living, breathing representation of every dark fantasy they had ever had. And as the men took them again and again, their bodies pushed to the brink of endurance, they reveled in it, each orgasm more powerful than the last.

The room was a blur of motion, a kaleidoscope of limbs and cocks. The air was thick with the scent of sex, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh a constant symphony of passion. Karina felt herself begin to lose control, her body a vessel for the men's lust. Winter's eyes were glazed with pleasure, her moans a constant soundtrack to the debauchery that played out before her.

The man in Karina's mouth was the first to reach his climax, his hips jerking as he unloaded his hot, sticky cum down her throat. She swallowed it greedily, her eyes watering as she took it all in, eager for more. The sensation of his cock pulsing in her mouth was almost too much, but she didn't dare pull away. She was a goddess, and she would take every drop of their adoration.

Winter's mouth was equally full, the man groaning in pleasure as he emptied himself into her. She swallowed with a gulp, the taste of his seed mixing with the sweetness of the champagne they had been sipping earlier. The feeling of his cock sliding out of her mouth was almost a disappointment, but she knew the night was still young.

Karina's voice was hoarse from screaming, her throat raw from the constant abuse, but she didn't care. The feeling of the cock in her pussy and ass was a symphony of pleasure that she never wanted to end. "Ahh, don't stop," she begged, her hips bucking wildly as the men pounded into her. The one in her pussy was hitting just the right spot, making her orgasm build even faster.

Winter could feel the same pressure building in her own body, the cock in her ass hitting her g-spot with every thrust. "Ahh, yes," she panted, her voice high and breathy. "It's so big, so perfect."

The men took their cue from the girls' cries of pleasure, moving faster and harder, their bodies slick with sweat and cum. They were like animals in heat, driven by the primal need to claim their prize. And Karina and Winter were more than willing to let themselves be claimed, their bodies begging for more.

The man in Karina's ass was the next to cum, his hot load filling her up until she thought she might burst. She felt it trickle out around his shaft, the sticky warmth of it adding to the depraved scene before her. Winter watched with hungry eyes, feeling the same pressure building in her own ass, the cock inside her pulsing with the promise of release.

And then it happened. The man in her ass pulled out, and she felt the warmth of his cum spurt out of her, painting her thighs with white streaks. The sensation was indescribable, the feeling of being so utterly used sending her over the edge. She screamed, her body shaking as she came harder than she ever had before.

"I liked it when my pussy and ass was destroyed by that cock," Winter panted, her voice thick with satisfaction. Karina nodded in agreement, her eyes glazed with lust. "Yeah, it's so fucking long," she managed to say, her voice a low growl of desire. "It can reach so deep, I can feel it bulging under my stomach."

The two friends shared a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure, their bodies trembling with the aftershocks of their orgasms. The men looked on, their own lust-filled gazes taking in the sight of the two idols, their bodies painted in sweat and cum. They knew that they had been a part of something special, something that would be remembered for a long time to come.

The night stretched out before them, a promise of more debauchery and more pleasure. Karina and Winter were insatiable, their desires only growing with each passing moment. They looked into each other's eyes, the fire of lust burning brighter than ever. "We should do this more often," Karina whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Winter nodded, a wicked smile playing across her lips. "Definitely," she said, her voice a sultry purr. "But next time, let's invite the rest of the group. I think they'd enjoy this as much as we do."

The idea of sharing their newfound passion with the other members of aespa was intoxicating. They had always been close, but this was a bond that went beyond friendship, beyond anything they had ever experienced before. It was a bond forged in the fires of desire, one that would never be broken.

The two idols lay there, panting and spent, their bodies a testament to the night's carnage. The men pulled out, their cocks still hard and gleaming with the girls' juices. Karina looked up at them, her eyes glazed with lust, and whispered, "Again?"

The remaining men, their cocks standing tall and proud, stepped forward eagerly. They had watched the first round with rapt attention, waiting for their turn to claim their share of the divine offerings. Now, it was their chance to taste the sweetness of the idols' flesh. There is only eight men left.

"What are you guys doing?" Karina panted, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she took in the sight of their arousal. "Why only four men?" she questioned, her voice a sultry tease. Winter's eyes glinted with excitement at the thought of what was to come, her own body still trembling from the intense pleasure she had just experienced.

The men chuckled darkly, their gazes hungry as they approached the two idols. "You'll know soon," one of them murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Karina's spine. The anticipation grew as the remaining four men knelt before them, two cocks pointing at each of their pussies. The room was silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing, the tension palpable as the two friends watched, their eyes wide with excitement and a hint of trepidation.

As the first one cock pushed into them, Karina and Winter gasped in unison, their eyes meeting as they felt the unyielding pressure. "Ahh, it's bulging again," Karina moaned, her voice a mix of pain and pleasure as she adjusted to the size. Winter nodded, her own eyes squeezed shut as she felt the thickness of the cock inside her, stretching her to the limits. "My pussy is getting wrecked,".

But to Karina's surprise, she realized that the cock was not heading for her ass, as she had anticipated. Instead, it was pushing into her sopping wet pussy, filling her up just as the others had done before.

"No, not in my pussy too," she gasped, her voice a mix of fear and excitement. She could feel the man's cock pushing against her already swollen pussy lips, stretching them even further.

"Ahh, your pussy can take it," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. But the look in his eyes was anything but gentle. There was a hunger there, a need to claim her completely, to make her scream his name.

Winter watched as the two cock disappeared into Karina's pussy, her eyes going wide with shock and fear. She had never seen anything so big, so powerful, so... overwhelming.

"No, don't do that to me," she panted, her voice trembling with the weight of her own desires. "My pussy is so small, it can't take two of those monsters at once."

The men only chuckled, their strokes growing more urgent, more demanding. They didn't care about her protests; they only cared about filling her up, about making her scream. And as the second cock began to push into her already-stuffed pussy, she realized that she didn't care either.

"Ahh, so hurts," Winter whimpered, her voice high and breathy. The feeling of being so full was almost too much to bear, but she couldn't deny the delicious ache it brought. She felt the man at her ass push deeper, his cock stretching her to the brink of pain, and she knew she was going to come again. "It's so big, my pussy stretch to 7 inches."

The men took no heed of their cries, driven only by their own carnality. They fucked the two idols with a ferocity that was almost animalistic, their hips slapping against their asses as they claimed them fully. Karina felt her body give way to the relentless pounding, her pussy and ass stretched to accommodate the thick cocks inside her. "I can't take it," she panted, even as she pushed back, begging for more.

Winter's own moans grew louder as she too was filled with cock, the sensation of being so completely dominated sending her spiraling into another orgasm. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body shaking with the force of it. "It's too much," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sounds of their frenzied coupling.

Karina's pussy clenched around the two cocks inside her, the feeling of being so full sending waves of pleasure through her body. She watched in amazement as Winter's pussy was stretched to accommodate the two men, the sight of her friend's pleasure only increasing her own desire. "Fuck me harder," she screamed, her voice a hoarse wail of need.

The men took her command to heart, their strokes becoming more forceful, their hips slamming into her with a brutal rhythm that had her body jolting with each thrust. She could feel their cocks rubbing against each other, the friction sending sparks of sensation through her. "It's so tight," one of them groaned, his voice thick with lust.

Winter watched, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and arousal as she felt the two cocks inside her as well. The feeling of being so full was almost too much, but she couldn't help the way her body responded. Her pussy clenched around them, her muscles rippling with the effort to accommodate the massive intrusion. "Fuck," she whispered, the word barely leaving her lips as she felt another orgasm building.

The man in her pussy pulled out slightly, then pushed back in, the movement sending a jolt of pleasure through her that made her toes curl. "Does it feel good?" he asked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

"Yeah," Winter panted, the word escaping her as a breathless moan. "It's so good, stretching my pussy to the limit." The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before—the pressure was almost unbearable, but the pleasure it brought was addictive.

The men took their words as a challenge, their strokes becoming more powerful, more demanding. Karina could feel her orgasm building again, the pressure in her pussy growing until she thought she might burst. "Is so full," she gasped, her voice tight with the effort to speak. "My squirt can't escape because there is no more room."

Winter nodded, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt the same sensation in her own body. Her stomach was indeed bulging with the girth of the cocks inside her, the sight of it a testament to the depravity of the moment. "It's so... much," she managed to get out, her voice a high-pitched whine of pleasure.

The men took no mercy, fucking them harder and faster, their bodies moving in a symphony of lust and power. Karina's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the beginnings of another orgasm, her pussy clamping down around the two thick shafts. "Ahh, I'm gonna...," she gasped, unable to finish her sentence.

And then, as if on cue, the man in her pussy pulled out, his cock glistening with her juices. She felt the pressure building, her body begging for release. The man in her ass took one last, deep stroke before pulling out as well, his cock spurting cum across her ass cheeks. And with that, Karina's orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her pussy releasing a torrent of squirt that soaked the bed beneath them.

Winter watched in amazement as Karina's squirt gushed out, the force of it almost comical in its intensity. But she had no time to laugh, as the man in her own ass pulled out and sprayed his cum across her back, the hot liquid making her shiver with pleasure. The cock in her pussy followed suit, filling her up until she too was on the brink of release.

"Now," the man whispered, his voice a dark promise. He pushed back in, the pressure of the two cocks inside her pussy too much to bear. She felt herself let go, her squirt spurting out like a fountain, mixing with the cum that filled her. It was a messy, sloppy affair, but neither of them cared. They were lost in a world of pure sensation, their bodies nothing but vessels for the men's pleasure.

The remaining men took their cue, their cocks sliding in and out of the two idols with a wet, sloppy sound that filled the room. Karina felt the pressure build again, her body responding to the relentless pounding. "Again," she begged, her voice a desperate plea for more.

Winter's own orgasm was a thing of beauty, her body arching off the bed as she screamed out her release. Her pussy clenched around the two cocks, the sensation making her squirt even more. She looked over at Karina, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared ecstasy.

The men grunted and groaned, their bodies tight with the effort of holding back their own climaxes. But the sight of the two idols, their bodies soaking wet with their own juices and cum, was too much to resist. One by one, they pulled out, their cocks pulsing as they painted the girls' bodies with their seed.

And as the last man came, Karina felt herself being filled once more, the warmth of his cum mixing with the mess already inside her. She collapsed back onto the bed, her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. "So much...," she murmured, her voice a breathless whisper.

Winter's eyes were glazed with lust, her chest heaving as she too felt the warmth of cum filling her up. They had never experienced anything so depraved, so beautifully carnally satisfying. The two friends looked at each other, a new understanding passing between them.

The men stepped back, their cocks still hard and gleaming with the girls' juices. "Thank you," one of them murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You two are truly amazing."

Karina and Winter couldn't help but smile, their bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of their orgasms. They had found something that went beyond friendship, beyond love, beyond anything they had ever known. They had found a place where they could be free, where they could embrace their desires without judgment. And as they lay there, their bodies spent and their minds racing with thoughts of what was to come, they knew that this was only the beginning of their journey into the dark, delicious world of unbridled lust.

The four remaining men, their cocks still hard and gleaming, stepped closer to the bed, their eyes filled with hunger and admiration for the two idols before them. Karina felt a thrill run through her as she watched them, their bodies tight with anticipation. "Ready?" one of them asked, and she nodded, her heart racing.

Winter took a deep breath, her eyes locked onto Karina's as the first two men positioned themselves at her friend's ass. The sight was almost too much to take, the thought of being filled by two such massive cocks making her own pussy clench with need. But she knew that she could do it, that she wanted to do it. "Now," she whispered, her voice a sultry invitation.

The men didn't waste any time, pushing their cocks into Karina's ass in a smooth, practiced motion. She cried out, the pain sharp and intense, but it only served to heighten the pleasure. She could feel herself stretching around them, the sensation of being so completely filled unlike anything she had ever experienced before. "Oh, fuck," she gasped, her voice a ragged moan of pleasure.

Winter watched, her own ass already being prepared by the remaining two men. She could feel the cold lube being applied, the sensation making her shiver. "You're going to love this," one of them murmured, his voice a low growl of desire. "We're going to fill you up so good."

And with that, the two men pushed into her ass, their cocks stretching her even wider than before. The pain was exquisite, the feeling of being so full making her eyes roll back in her head. She could feel Karina's eyes on her, the connection between them stronger than ever as they shared this moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

The men began to move, their hips thrusting in unison as they claimed their prize. The room was filled with the sounds of their moans and the wet slaps of skin against skin. "Fuck, your asses are so tight," one of them groaned, his voice a testament to the intensity of their shared experience.

Karina's eyes fluttered closed as she felt the two cocks inside her move, their strokes becoming more deliberate, more demanding. She knew that she was going to come again, that she was going to shatter into a million pieces beneath their relentless pounding. "I can't...," she whimpered, her voice a mix of pleasure and pain.

Winter's own orgasm was building, the feeling of being so completely filled making her pussy throb with need. "It's so good," she whispered, her voice a breathless sigh. "I never knew it could feel like this."

The men took their cue from her words, their strokes growing more urgent. They didn't stop to let them catch their breath, didn't give them a moment's reprieve. They were insatiable, their cocks moving in a blur as they pounded into them with a ferocity that was almost frightening.

Karina felt her body begin to spasm, her pussy clenching around nothing as the two cocks in her ass worked their magic. The feeling of emptiness in her pussy only served to drive her closer to the edge, her body begging for release. "Fuck, yes," she panted, her voice a mix of desperation and need. "Keep going, please, I need it."

Winter's own pussy was a mess of cum and juices, her squirt flowing freely as she was pounded from behind. She could feel the men's cocks stretching her ass, the pressure building until she thought she might pass out from pleasure. "It's so...," she managed to get out, her voice trailing off as she lost herself in the sensation.

The men took her words as a challenge, their strokes growing even more forceful. They fucked them with an intensity that was almost brutal, their eyes never leaving the girls' faces as they watched every twitch, every gasp of pleasure. "You like that?" one of them growled, his voice thick with lust. "You like being our little sluts?"

The question was rhetorical, the answer clear in the way their bodies responded. Karina felt herself begin to climax again, her pussy convulsing with the need for something—anything—inside her. "Yes," she screamed, her voice raw and desperate. "I love it, I love being your slut."

Winter's own orgasm hit her like a freight train, her body shaking as she felt the two cocks inside her reach their peak. She could feel the hot spurts of cum filling her up, the sensation making her pussy clench even more. "Oh god," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for release.

And then, as if in response to her silent prayer, the man at her pussy pulled out, his cock swollen and red with need. He positioned himself at her entrance, and with one powerful thrust, he pushed into her, the feeling of fullness making her eyes roll back in her head. "Yes," she screamed, her voice hoarse with pleasure. "Yes, fuck me, please."

The two men in her ass didn't miss a beat, their cocks pounding into her with a ferocity that was almost painful. But the pain was a sweet agony, one that only served to heighten the pleasure that was building within her. Her pussy clenched around the new intrusion, her squirt mixing with the cum that was already flowing freely.

Karina watched with wide eyes as Winter's pussy squirted again and again, the sight making her own need grow even stronger. She felt the two cocks inside her begin to pulse, the men on the brink of their own climaxes. "Do it," she begged, her voice a ragged whisper. "I want to feel you come inside me."

The men didn't need any more encouragement. With one last, powerful thrust, they both emptied themselves into her, their cum mixing with her own juices in a sticky mess. She felt herself come again, her pussy spasming around the two thick shafts as she screamed their names.

As the last of the men pulled out, their bodies spent and exhausted, the two idols collapsed onto the bed, their breathing ragged and their eyes glazed with satisfaction. They were covered in cum, their bodies sticky and slick with the evidence of their carnality. "That was... amazing," Karina murmured, her voice still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Winter nodded, her own voice equally affected. "Yeah," she panted. "Better than I ever imagined."

The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound the harsh breathing of the men as they caught their breath. And then, one by one, they began to speak, their voices filled with awe and admiration. "You two are... incredible," one of them murmured, his eyes never leaving their bodies. "Thank you."

Karina couldn't help but smile, the pain and pleasure of the evening still coursing through her veins. "It's our pleasure," she said, her voice a low purr. Winter nodded in agreement, her eyes hooded and filled with a hunger that hadn't yet been sated.

The men took their words to heart, and the party continued, moving from room to room as they explored every inch of the penthouse. They were insatiable, their cocks hard and demanding as they took the two idols in every conceivable position. Karina and Winter were pushed to their limits, their bodies stretched and filled in ways they had never imagined. They begged for mercy, their voices hoarse and desperate, but the men were relentless.

In the kitchen, they were bent over the counter, their asses in the air as the men took turns filling their pussies and asses. The cold marble pressed into their skin, a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies. The smell of sex mingled with the faint scent of food, creating a heady, intoxicating aroma that only served to drive them wilder. They screamed and squirted, their bodies shaking as they were used and abused.

The bathroom was next, the mirrors steaming up as the men took them one by one, their cocks sliding in and out of their tight, wet holes. They watched their reflection, the sight of their own pleasure reflected back at them, making it even more intense. They touched themselves, their fingers sliding through the cum and juices that covered their bodies, their eyes never leaving the men who owned them for the night.

The hallway was a frenzied blur of limbs and flesh, the two friends pressed against the wall as the men fucked them from behind. They could feel the coolness of the paint on their skin, their bodies sliding against it as they were pounded into oblivion. It was a depraved, animalistic scene, and yet they couldn't get enough. The men's hands gripped their hips, their fingers digging in as they pulled them back onto their cocks, the sound of their slapping skin echoing through the hallway.

"Please," Karina begged, her voice a desperate whine. "I can't take it anymore."

Winter nodded in agreement, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt herself being stretched to the breaking point. "It's too much," she gasped. "My pussy is going to tear apart."

But the men only chuckled, their voices dark with lust. "You'll be fine," one of them assured them. "We'll stop 6 am."

They didn't bother to dress, their naked bodies a testament to their wanton need. The group stumbled out of the penthouse, the corridor echoing with their moans and the slap of skin against skin. The cool air of the hallway was a shock to their overheated bodies, but it did nothing to dampen their arousal. They were wild animals in heat, and nothing could stop them.

The elevator was too small, too confining, so they made their way to the emergency stairwell. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the concrete walls, mingling with their cries of pleasure. The man who had taken Karina's pussy earlier bent her over the railing, her ass high in the air as he plunged into her with a ferocity that had her squirting almost immediately. The others watched, stroking themselves, as they waited for their turn.

The stairwell was a whirlwind of passion, each step a new stage for their depraved performance. They fucked in front of the emergency exit door, the red glow of the exit sign casting an eerie light on their sweat-slicked bodies. Winter felt a thrill of fear mingle with her pleasure as she watched the door, her heart racing at the thought of being caught. But the corridor remained blissfully empty, their cries of ecstasy unheard by any but themselves.

Their luck held as they made it to the ground floor, the elevator passing them by without incident. The lobby was quiet, the night staff too busy to notice the group of sweaty, cum-covered figures that stumbled past the reception desk. The men had their pick of the women, taking them against the wall, on the couch, even on the grand piano that stood in the corner.

And through it all, Karina and Winter's friendship grew stronger, bound by the shared experience of their darkest desires. They whispered to each other, their eyes meeting in moments of pain and pleasure, their bodies moving in a silent symphony of lust. It was a night they would never forget, a night that would change their lives forever.

The men's grunts and the wet slaps of skin grew louder, bouncing off the walls of the stairwell as they neared the ground floor. They were wild, animalistic, driven by a primal need to claim and conquer. And the two idols were more than willing participants, their bodies responding to every touch, every thrust, every demand.

On the final landing before the lobby, they paused, their chests heaving with exertion. Karina's legs were shaking, her pussy soaked with cum and her own squirt. Winter looked up at her, her face a mask of need, her eyes begging for more. The men took this as a challenge, their cocks growing harder at the sight of their vulnerability.

They took them again, this time with a newfound aggression. The man who had filled Karina's pussy pushed her to her knees, his cock still slick from her juices. "Suck me clean," he ordered, and she eagerly complied, her mouth engulfing him to the hilt. The taste of cum and sweat mingled on her tongue, a heady cocktail of pleasure and submission.

Winter was bent over the railing again, her ass high in the air as another man took her from behind. She could feel the precum leaking from his cock, the anticipation of his release making her pussy clench with need. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "Please, make me come."

The man didn't need any further encouragement, his cock plunging into her with a force that had her crying out. He fucked her hard, his hand reaching around to rub her clit as she squirted once more, her juices spilling onto the floor below.

The group stumbled into the lobby, their breathing ragged and their eyes glazed. They were a spectacle, a testament to the power of desire, but the night staff remained blissfully unaware. The idols' shyness had been shattered, replaced by a fierce hunger that only the men could satisfy.

They made their way outside, the cool night air kissing their skin as they sought out new places to continue their debauchery. The alley behind the hotel was their next playground, the shadows hiding them from prying eyes as the men took them against the rough brick wall. Karina felt the coolness of the wall against her back, the stark contrast to the heat of the men's bodies driving her wild.

Winter was pushed to her knees, her mouth open wide as one of the men filled her with his thick cock. She gagged and choked, her eyes watering as she tried to take all of him. But she was a good student, her body adapting to the intrusion, her mouth working him like a pro.

And as the night went on, the two friends grew bolder, their inhibitions shed like a second skin. They took the men's cocks in every hole, their bodies writhing in ecstasy as they were used and filled. The squirt that had once been a source of embarrassment was now a badge of honor, a symbol of their newfound freedom.

The streets were empty, the city a silent witness to their depravity. They didn't care who saw them, didn't care what people would think. All that mattered was the pleasure, the connection, the feeling of being truly alive. They were no longer just idols, no longer just friends. They were sexual beings, free to explore the darkest depths of their desires.

As the sun began to rise, their bodies spent and their minds racing with memories of the night, they stumbled back to the penthouse. The mess they had made was a testament to the intensity of their encounter, a physical manifestation of their shared lust.

They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies sticky with cum and sweat. The men lay beside them, their chests heaving with the aftermath of their exertion. "Thank you," Karina murmured, her voice hoarse but filled with genuine gratitude. "Thank you for giving us this night."

Winter nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you," she echoed. "Thank you for making us feel so... alive."

The men didn't respond with words, but their actions spoke louder than any could. They picked the exhausted girls up, their cocks still hard and demanding. The idols' legs wrapped around their waists, their bodies boneless with fatigue, but the men didn't seem to notice. They carried them through the penthouse, their cocks still buried deep inside them, the squirt from their overstimulated pussies dribbling down their thighs and onto the floor.

The journey to the elevator was a blur, their cries of pleasure mixing with their begging for mercy. The elevator was too small, but the men didn't stop, the doors closing on them with a ding as they continued to pound away. The girls' pussies were stretched to their limits, their squirt soaking everything around them, leaving a trail from the penthouse to the rooftop.

The cool night air hit them like a slap in the face as they emerged onto the rooftop, but it did nothing to dull their desire. The city lights twinkled like stars around them, a backdrop to their depraved heaven. The men didn't waste any time, laying them down on the cold concrete, their bodies trembling with the anticipation of what was to come.

"Please," Karina gasped, her voice a desperate whine. "I can't take any more."

But the men were insatiable, their lust for the two idols unquenchable. They took them again, their strokes deep and punishing, their bodies moving in a dance of pure carnality. The sound of their moans filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of the city.

Winter's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt herself being pushed to the edge once more. "I'm... I'm gonna...," she moaned, her voice trailing off as her pussy clenched around the thick cock inside her.

And then, as if in slow motion, she felt the warmth of her orgasm wash over her, her body convulsing with pleasure. The man pulled out, his cock spurting cum onto her stomach. Karina watched, her own need growing even stronger, as another man took his place, his cock sliding into her ass without hesitation.

The night continued in a haze of pleasure and pain, the two idols pushed to their limits and beyond. They squirted and begged, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their climaxes. But the men didn't stop, their hunger insatiable as they claimed the girls' bodies again and again.

Karina's pussy felt like it was on fire, stretched to its limits and yet she couldn't get enough. "Please," she gasped, her voice a desperate whine. "My pussy is going to tear apart."

Winter's body was a wreck, her pussy clenching and releasing in a never-ending cycle of pleasure. "I can't stop squirting," she managed to get out between gasps. "It's too much."

But the men were relentless, their cocks pounding into them with a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. They didn't care about their cries for mercy, only the sweet release that came with each powerful thrust.

The rooftop was a minefield of wet spots, a testament to the endless flow of juices that the girls had produced. They were a mess, their bodies sticky with cum and sweat, but the men were unfazed. They moved from one position to the next, their cocks never leaving the warm, tight embrace of the idols' pussies.

Karina felt her body give in, the pain and pleasure becoming one as she lost herself in the moment. "I'm so tired," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut as another orgasm ripped through her.

Winter nodded in agreement, her body a tapestry of sensation. "But we can't stop," she panted, her voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. "We're theirs."

The men didn't stop, their hips pumping in a relentless rhythm. Karina's pussy was a sopping mess, her squirt mixing with the cum and sweat that coated the floor. "Ahh," she gasped as another wave of pleasure hit her. "I can feel it everywhere."

The men's grunts grew louder, their strokes more erratic as they approached their own climaxes. Winter felt her pussy tighten around the cock inside her, her body begging for release. "Fuck me," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea. "I need to come again."

The man in her ass pulled out, his cock slick with cum and her juices. He stepped aside, allowing another to take his place. "You want this?" he asked, his voice low and filled with lust. "You want to come on my cock?"

Winter nodded frantically, her eyes glazed with need. "Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, please."

The new man slammed into her, his cock hitting all the right spots. She felt herself start to squirt again, her body betraying her in the most delicious way. "Ahh, so much," she gasped, her voice filled with pain and pleasure. "It's too much."

Karina's pussy was on fire, the feeling of fullness almost unbearable. She watched as Winter was taken, her body jerking with each powerful thrust. The sight of her friend's pleasure pushed her closer to the edge, her pussy clenching around the cock inside her. "Ahh, I'm going to come," she moaned, her voice a raw scream of ecstasy.

The men didn't let up, their hips moving in a blur as they brought the girls to the brink of insanity. The rooftop was a symphony of wet, slapping sounds, a cacophony of desire. The city lights twinkled below, indifferent to the depraved scene playing out above them.

Winter felt the warmth of the man's cum fill her up, his seed mixing with her squirt. She collapsed onto the concrete, her body shaking with the force of her climax. Karina followed soon after, her pussy spasming around the thick cock that filled her, her squirt painting the man's abs.

The men pulled out, their cocks glistening with cum and squirt. They didn't speak, their eyes never leaving the girls' trembling forms. And as they watched, the idols began to squirt once more, their bodies betraying them in the most delicious way. The men didn't hesitate, plunging back into their warm, wet pussies, eager to feel that sweet release again.

The city was a blur of lights behind them, a backdrop to their passion. They didn't care who might be watching, didn't care about the mess they were making. All that mattered was the feeling of the men's cocks inside them, the sweet agony of being used and filled.

The night stretched on, a never-ending cycle of pleasure and pain. Their bodies were pushed to their limits, but they never once considered stopping. They were in a world of their own making, a place where their desires were the only law. And as the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, they knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Their friendship had been irrevocably changed, the bonds of friendship replaced by something darker, something more primal. They were no longer just Karina and Winter, two idols sharing a secret. They were sex goddesses, creatures of the night who craved the feel of a man's cock more than anything else.

The men took them until they couldn't take any more, their bodies trembling with the aftershocks of countless orgasms. And when it was finally over, when the last drop of cum had been spilled and the last whimper of pleasure had been wrung from their lips, they lay there, panting and spent, their bodies a mess of sweat and cum.

But even as they lay there, the embers of desire still burned within them. They knew that this was just the beginning, that the night had only just started to reveal the depths of their desires. And as the sun rose over the city, they knew that they would never be able to go back to the way things were before.

Their eyes met, a silent promise passing between them. They would continue to explore these dark, uncharted waters, together. The world of aespa would never be the same again, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

The rooftop was their playground, a place where their most carnivorous desires could come to life. And as they watched the sunrise, their bodies still quivering with the aftermath of pleasure, they knew that this was just the start of a journey that would take them to places they never thought they'd dare to go.

The girls' eyes remained shut, the weight of exhaustion too great to lift. They lay on the rooftop floor, sticky with a blend of their own juices and the men's cum. Their limbs were leaden, their muscles no longer willing to cooperate. Each shallow breath they took was a silent testament to the intensity of their encounter.

Without a word, the men lifted them once again. Karina felt the cool grip of a hand on her ankle, the gentle tug as she was lifted from the floor. Winter's body was similarly manhandled, the men's strength surprisingly gentle despite their earlier ferocity. They stumbled back into the penthouse, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. The idols' swollen clits were tender, pulsing with the aftermath of countless orgasms, and each step sent a fresh wave of painful pleasure through their bodies.

The walk to the penthouse was a blur of sensation, the men's hands playing with their sensitive flesh as if they were delicate instruments. Each brush of a thumb against their clits had them squirming and gasping, their legs shaking uncontrollably. They were powerless to stop the flow of juices that dribbled from their pussies, leaving a wet trail on the plush carpet. Their breathing was heavy, their bodies trembling as the men teased them, keeping them on the edge of another climax.

The door to the penthouse clicked shut behind them, the soft light of the suite a stark contrast to the harsh reality of the rooftop. Karina and Winter were placed on the bed, their legs spread wide as the men took their time to admire their handiwork. The idols' chests rose and fell in unison, their hearts racing from the sheer overstimulation. They were too tired to speak, their only response the occasional whimper that escaped their lips as their clits were massaged.

One by one, the men stepped forward, their fingers sliding into the girls' swollen pussies for one last taste. Their bodies reacting to the familiar touch despite their exhaustion. Each man took a moment to appreciate the tight, wet warmth that had been their playground all night, their thumbs circling the sensitive nubs above.

Karina's eyes snapped open, her mouth forming an 'O' of surprise and pleasure. The sudden pressure on her clit sent her spiraling into another orgasm, her body bucking and twitching on the bed. Her pussy spasmed, releasing a torrent of squirt that soaked the sheets beneath her. She gasped for air, her body trembling with the sheer intensity of the sensation.

Winter's eyes flew open as well, her own pussy reacting to the sudden rush of pleasure that washed over her. She felt the warmth of Karina's squirt spray across her stomach, the sensation making her own orgasm even more powerful. Her legs clamped around the man's waist, her nails digging into his skin as she rode the wave of pleasure.

The men watched in awe as the two idols came together, their bodies speaking a language of desire that transcended words. Their eyes were glued to the sight of the squirt shooting from Karina's pussy, a testament to their shared experience. They had pushed the girls to their breaking points and beyond, and yet here they were, still craving more.

With a grin that spoke volumes, one of the men leaned down, his tongue snaking out to catch a droplet of squirt. The salty taste of Karina's pleasure filled his mouth, a flavor that seemed to ignite a fire within him. The other men followed suit, their tongues lapping at the mess they had made. The sound of their slurps and moans filled the room, a symphony of carnality that was music to the girls' ears.

Their eyes remained closed, lost in the aftermath of their orgasms. The feel of the men's tongues on their sensitive skin was almost too much, a sensation that had them trembling with the promise of another climax. Winter felt a mouth close around her clit, the suction so intense she thought she might pass out.

Karina's body was a wreck, but the feeling of the man's tongue in her pussy had her squirting once again. Her hips bucked, her legs shaking as she was pushed over the edge. The warmth of her squirt sprayed the sheets, soaking the man's face. He didn't pull away, instead lapping it up eagerly, savoring the taste of her.

Winter felt the same intense pressure building within her, the man's mouth on her clit sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She could feel her pussy contracting around his fingers, the muscles clenching as she approached climax. And then, with a cry that was equal parts pleasure and pain, she squirted again, her body spasming as the orgasm ripped through her.

The men took a step back, their cocks finally spent. They looked at each other, a silent nod passing between them. They had pushed the girls to the brink, had seen them squirt and come more times than they could count.

Karina's eyes were wide and white, her pupils blown with pleasure. Her mouth hung open, a silent scream trapped inside her throat. Her legs were spread so wide, her pussy and ass gaping obscenely. The cum flowed out of her in a steady stream, a river of white that painted the bed beneath her.

Winter lay beside her, equally ravished. Her body quivered, her eyes rolled back in her head, showing only the white of her sclera. Her mouth was a perfect 'O', her tongue lolling out as if in a state of perpetual orgasm. The men's cum trickled from her pussy and ass, a reminder of the unimaginable fullness she had just experienced.

Their legs were splayed wide open, muscles too weak to hold any semblance of modesty. The sight of their gaping pussies and assholes, both coated in a thick layer of cum, was almost surreal. The men had stretched them to their limits, and now they lay there, utterly spent, their bodies a canvas of lust and desire.

One of the men stepped forward, his phone in hand. He paused for a moment, admiring the artistry of their spent forms. Then, with a smirk that was both predatory and satisfied, he began to snap photos. The flashes illuminated the room, capturing every intimate detail of the scene. The idols' faces were a mix of agony and ecstasy, their eyes glazed over with the aftermath of their countless orgasms.

Karina felt the coldness of the air against her exposed pussy, the sensation sending shivers down her spine. She was too tired to protest, too lost in the haze of pleasure to do anything but lie there and accept whatever came next. Winter's body trembled beside her, each flash of the camera's light highlighting the sweat that glistened on her skin.

The man took photo after photo, capturing every intimate detail of their spent forms. The images would serve as a memento of the night, a secret that would bind them together in a way nothing else could. They were no longer just members of aespa; they were participants in an unspeakable ritual that had claimed them body and soul.

[rivereverie]

Just some observations on Astarion learning to see that he is loved

I just saw a clip of Astarion's response to his partner cheating on him with Mizora and it got me thinking. While his entire reaction is very telling and meaningful in its entirety, one line stood out to me:

"I really thought there was more to you. That you were better than other people"

This was striking because it immediately reminded me of something else he says, in the scene after his siblings attempt to capture and return him to Cazador:

"You're the only one. Other people don't have a heart like you. You're you. No one is like that."

These lines feel a little odd at first, because Astarion isn't known for putting the PC on a pedestal. I don't think that's exactly what he's doing here. I think these lines are just capturing the inner chaos and contradiction that naturally come with the gradual unraveling of a long-held worldview. At this point, Astarion is able to process that one person cares for and accepts him, but only one. They must be an outlier: an exception to the rule. Surely they're something special.

Obviously this isn't true, though, and the next step is for him to learn that the PC isn't actually unique in their ability to accept and care for him him. In fact, Astarion is already loved by others and just doesn't see it. This line of his is beautifully contrasted by Karlach's reaction to Astarion's near-abduction. She is righteously angry and protective because she loves Astarion too.

"I dare Cazador to sent more lackeys our way. This is our territory. I'll crack anyone who tries to come into my house and hurt my people."

Earlier in the story, we get a similar moment during the confession scene, showing again how Astarion isn't always able to see the truth of what others feel for him.

When he says this, he sounds surprised. Like the idea of a friend is a revelation. This kind of broke my heart when I first heard it, because I thought it was obvious to him that he already had friends, in both the other companions and my character. But I think a part of him genuinely was stuck in that old thought pattern of assuming that anyone who showed interest in him just wanted to use him. This also makes it clear just how divorced sex is from affection in his mind and experience. Though they've slept together at least several times and grown more emotionally intimate too, Astarion still needs confirmation that the PC actually cares for him.

I made a post once about the two triggers for Astarion's confession here, which further reveal his mindset: going out of your way and into danger to get his scars translated, or choosing not to force him into complying with Araj's dehumanizing demands. Both of these things are concrete demonstrations of respect and care for him and what he wants. Astarion knows very well how empty words can be, so actions are what finally help him believe that the PC cares about him, and gives him the impetus to confess.

Later, If you break up with Astarion, his reaction is extremely telling in that he regresses slightly from this healthier mindset he had developed:

"I can hardly blame you. I don't exactly have much to offer right now, beyond new burdens to carry."

Typically, we witness any traces of Astarion's self-deprecation filtered through irony or dark humor, so his vulnerability in this moment is stark.

He claims that he has very little to offer, but that just isn't true. He may be going through a bit of a crisis, but he is still a shockingly good partner given the circumstances. He is unwaveringly supportive, caring, and clearly tries to lighten his partner's emotional load when they begin to feel the strain of responsibility. Not to mention, just being himself still makes him perfectly worthy of being loved. In any relationship, there will be times when one person needs more support than they themself can give, and that doesn't mean that they aren't enough. We're seeing, yet again, that he sometimes just doesn’t recognize how deeply he is valued by others. At this point, maybe a part of him still feels like he needs to be of service in order to be accepted, let alone loved. I also personally interpret this line as partially concerning his insecurity around not "providing" his partner with sex at this time, reiterating this deeply internalized belief that he needs to perform in order to be valued.

All of these little moments add so much subtly and humanity to his character, and make his development feel natural and earned. The payoff is clear after Cazador's death, when we get to see his new confidence:

He doesn't have to ask "really?" this time.

"You believed in me - believed I was enough just the way I am."

He truly knows now that he is loved.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Paying consumer debts is basically optional in the United States

The vast majority of America's debt collection targets $500-2,000 credit card debts. It is a filthy business, operated by lawless firms who hire unskilled workers drawn from the same economic background as their targets, who routinely and grotesquely flout the law, but only when it comes to the people with the least ability to pay.

America has fairly robust laws to protect debtors from sleazy debt-collection practices, notably the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act (FDCPA), which has been on the books since 1978. The FDCPA puts strict limits on the conduct of debt collectors, and offers real remedies to debtors when they are abused.

But for FDPCA provisions to be honored, they must be understood. The people who collect these debts are almost entirely untrained. The people they collected the debts from are likewise in the dark. The only specialized expertise debt-collection firms concern themselves with are a series of gotcha tricks and semi-automated legal shenanigans that let them take money they don't deserve from people who can't afford to pay it.

There's no better person to explain this dynamic than Patrick McKenzie, a finance and technology expert whose Bits About Money newsletter is absolutely essential reading. No one breaks down the internal operations of the finance sector like McKenzie. His latest edition, "Credit card debt collection," is a fantastic read:

https://www.bitsaboutmoney.com/archive/the-waste-stream-of-consumer-finance/

McKenzie describes how a debt collector who mistook him for a different PJ McKenzie and tried to shake him down for a couple hundred bucks, and how this launched him into a life as a volunteer advocate for debtors who were less equipped to defend themselves from collectors than he was.

McKenzie's conclusion is that "paying consumer debts is basically optional in the United States." If you stand on your rights (which requires that you know your rights), then you will quickly discover that debt collectors don't have – and can't get – the documentation needed to collect on whatever debts they think you owe (even if you really owe them).

The credit card companies are fully aware of this, and bank (literally) on the fact that "the vast majority of consumers, including those with the socioeconomic wherewithal to walk away from their debts, feel themselves morally bound and pay as agreed."

If you find yourself on the business end of a debt collector's harassment campaign, you can generally make it end simply by "carefully sending a series of letters invoking [your] rights under the FDCPA." The debt collector who receives these letters will have bought your debt at five cents on the dollar, and will simply write it off.

By contrast, the mere act of paying anything marks you out as substantially more likely to pay than nearly everyone else on their hit-list. Paying anything doesn't trigger forbearance, it invites a flood of harassing calls and letters, because you've demonstrated that you can be coerced into paying.

But while learning FDCPA rules isn't overly difficult, it's also beyond the wherewithal of the most distressed debtors (and people falsely accused of being debtors). McKenzie recounts that many of the people he helped were living under chaotic circumstances that put seemingly simple things "like writing letters and counting to 30 days" beyond their needs.

This means that the people best able to defend themselves against illegal shakedowns are less likely to be targeted. Instead, debt collectors husband their resources so they can use them "to do abusive and frequently illegal shakedowns of the people the legislation was meant to benefit."

Here's how this debt market works. If you become delinquent in meeting your credit card payments ("delinquent" has a flexible meaning that varies with each issuer), then your debt will be sold to a collector. It is packaged in part of a large spreadsheet – a CSV file – and likely sold to one of 10 large firms that control 75% of the industry.

The "mom and pops" who have the other quarter of the industry might also get your debt, but it's more likely that they'll buy it as a kind of tailings from one of the big guys, who package up the debts they couldn't collect on and sell them at even deeper discounts.

The people who make the calls are often barely better off than the people they're calling. They're minimally trained and required to work at a breakneck pace. Employee turnover is 75-100% annually: imagine the worst call center job in the world, and then make it worse, and make "success" into a moral injury, and you've got the debt-collector rank-and-file.

To improve the yield on this awful process, debt collection companies start by purging these spreadsheets of likely duds: dead people, people with very low credit-scores, and people who appear on a list of debtors who know their rights and are likely to stand on them (that's right, merely insisting on your rights can ensure that the entire debt-collection industry leaves you alone, forever).

The FDPCA gives you rights: for example, you have the right to verify the debt and see the contract you signed when you took it on. The debt collector who calls you almost certainly does not have that contract and can't get it. Your original lender might, but they stopped caring about your debt the minute they sold it to a debt-collector. Their own IT systems are baling-wire-and-spit Rube Goldberg machines that glue together the wheezing computers of all the companies they've bought over the last 25 years. Retrieving your paperwork is a nontrivial task, and the lender doesn't have any reason to perform it.

Debt collectors are bottom feeders. They are buying delinquent debts at 5 cents on the dollar and hoping to recover 8 percent of them; at 7 percent, they're losing money. They aren't "large, nationally scaled, hypercompetent operators" – they're shoestring operations that can only be viable if they hire unskilled workers and fail to train them.

They are subject to automatic damages for illegal behavior, but they still break the law all the time. As McKenzie writes, a debt collector will "commit three federal torts in a few minutes of talking to a debtor then follow up with a confirmation of the same in writing." A statement like "if you don’t pay me I will sue you and then Immigration will take notice of that and yank your green card" makes the requisite three violations: a false threat of legal action, a false statement of affiliation with a federal agency, and "a false alleged consequence for debt nonpayment not provided for in law."

If you know this, you can likely end the process right there. If you don't, buckle in. The one area that debt collectors invest heavily in is the automation that allows them to engage in high-intensity harassment. They use "predictive dialers" to make multiple calls at once, only connecting the collector to the calls that pick up. They will call you repeatedly. They'll call your family, something they're legally prohibited from doing except to get your contact info, but they'll do it anyway, betting that you'll scrape up $250 to keep them from harassing your mother.

These dialing systems are far better organized than any of the company's record keeping about what you owe. A company may sell your debt on and fail to keep track of it, with the effect that multiple collectors will call you about the same debt, and even paying off one of them will not stop the other.

Talking to these people is a bad idea, because the one area where collectors get sophisticated training is in emptying your bank account. If you consent to a "payment plan," they will use your account and routing info to start whacking your bank account, and your bank will let them do it, because the one part of your conversation they reliably record is this payment plan rigamarole. Sending a check won't help – they'll use the account info on the front of your check to undertake "demand debits" from your account, and backstop it with that recorded call.

Any agreement on your part to get on a payment plan transforms the old, low-value debt you incurred with your credit card into a brand new, high value debt that you owe to the bill collector. There's a good chance they'll sell this debt to another collector and take the lump sum – and then the new collector will commence a fresh round of harassment.

McKenzie says you should never talk to a debt collector. Make them put everything in writing. They are almost certain to lie to you and violate your rights, and a written record will help you prove it later. What's more, debt collection agencies just don't have the capacity or competence to engage in written correspondence. Tell them to put it in writing and there's a good chance they'll just give up and move on, hunting softer targets.

One other thing debt collectors due is robo-sue their targets, bulk-filing boilerplate suits against debtors, real and imaginary. If you don't show up for court (which is what usually happens), they'll get a default judgment, and with it, the legal right to raid your bank account and your paycheck. That, in turn, is an asset that, once again, the debt collector can sell to an even scummier bottom-feeder, pocketing a lump sum.

McKenzie doesn't know what will fix this. But Michael Hudson, a renowned scholar of the debt practices of antiquity, has some ideas. Hudson has written eloquently and persuasively about the longstanding practice of jubilee, in which all debts were periodically wiped clean (say, whenever a new king took the throne, or once per generation):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/24/grandparents-optional-party/#jubilee

Hudson's core maxim is that "debt's that can't be paid won't be paid." The productive economy will have need for credit to secure the inputs to their processes. Farmers need to borrow every year for labor, seed and fertilizer. If all goes according to plan, the producer pays off the lender after the production is done and the goods are sold.

But even the most competent producer will eventually find themselves unable to pay. The best-prepared farmer can't save every harvest from blight, hailstorms or fire. When the producer can't pay the creditor, they go a little deeper into debt. That debt accumulates, getting worse with interest and with each bad beat.

Run this process long enough and the entire productive economy will be captive to lenders, who will be able to direct production for follies and fripperies. Farmers stop producing the food the people need so they can devote their land to ornamental flowers for creditors' tables. Left to themselves, credit markets produce hereditary castes of lenders and debtors, with lenders exercising ever-more power over debtors.

This is socially destabilizing; you can feel it in McKenzie's eloquent, barely controlled rage at the hopeless structural knot that produces the abusive and predatory debt industry. Hudson's claim is that the rulers of antiquity knew this – and that we forgot it. Jubilee was key to producing long term political stability. Take away Jubilee and civilizations collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

Debts that can't be paid won't be paid. Debt collectors know this. It's irrefutable. The point of debt markets isn't to ensure that debts are discharged – it's to ensure that every penny the hereditary debtor class has is transferred to the creditor class, at the hands of their fellow debtors.

In her 2021 Paris Review article "America's Dead Souls," Molly McGhee gives a haunting, wrenching account of the debts her parents incurred and the harassment they endured:

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2021/05/17/americas-dead-souls/

After I published on it, many readers wrote in disbelief, insisting that the debt collection practices McGhee described were illegal:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/19/zombie-debt/#damnation

And they are illegal. But debt collection is a trade founded on lawlessness, and its core competence is to identify and target people who can't invoke the law in their own defense.

Going to Defcon this weekend? I’m giving a keynote, “An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet’s Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse,” today (Aug 12) at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/12/do-not-pay/#fair-debt-collection-practices-act

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ sad girl ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! there is also a part one to this story, million dollar man! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ one week had passed since your boyfriend, sang-woo, reappeared in your life under strange circumstances that made your blood run cold. for two agonizing weeks, he had vanished without explanation. then, he returned, battered and hollow-eyed, his face bearing scars that seemed etched not only into his skin but into his very soul. he had come to your door clutching a bag of cash, his body trembling, his clothes soaked with sweat. “wait for me,” he had whispered, his voice hoarse and desperate. you promised you would, and so you did.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop replaying that moment in your mind, every detail a puzzle you couldn’t solve. had he been involved in something criminal? was he tangled in debts or worse? the thought that he might be ensnared in something far beyond your understanding consumed you. the sight of him, standing there, so broken and afraid, haunted you. you didn’t want to believe he was in danger, but deep down, you couldn’t dismiss the fear.

˚ ༘♡ then, this morning, a text came through on your phone. it was brief, offering no answers, only an instruction, “come to my house.” no explanation, no reassurance, merely a summoning. the clock had barely struck six, but you didn’t hesitate. sleep clung to you as you threw on the white, wool coat he had gifted you months ago for your three-month anniversary.

˚ ༘♡ the streets were quiet, the morning air biting at your skin as you made your way to his home. every breath a battle against the anxiety clawing at your chest. when you reached his door, it swung open almost immediately.

˚ ༘♡ before you could say a word, he pulled you inside, his movements quick, the door closing behind you with a soft click. the air inside was warm, contrasting the chill outside, but it did little to ease the tension in your body.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re here,” he murmured, his voice low, and then his lips kissed your cheek, cool and brief, a gesture that was both familiar and foreign. the touch left your skin tingling, not with comfort but with unease. his eyes lingered on you, their usual sharpness dulled by something you couldn’t place, something sinister.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped back from him, your voice trembling but firm. “you have to tell me everything right now,” you demanded, though the weight of your exhaustion seeped into every word. the fear you’d carried for weeks had worn you down, leaving sorrow in its wake. “i can’t keep living like this, with all the secrecy and half-truths. it’s killing me.”

˚ ༘♡ as you glanced around, you noticed his home looked different, emptier than you remembered. furniture was missing, and stacks of boxes lined the walls, their presence unnerving. your eyes narrowed as you turned back to him. “are you moving? why didn’t you tell me anything?” your voice cracked with disbelief. then, anger surged, and you shoved his chest, your frustration spilling over. “this has to stop! you can’t keep throwing money and gifts at me, thinking it’ll distract me from everything you’re hiding!”

˚ ༘♡ his posture stiffened, his muscles taut under the pressure of your words. his jaw clenched tightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as though searching for the right response. when he spoke, his voice was strained, his frustration cutting through. “if you would only give me a chance!” he snapped, the sharpness of his tone filling the room. his chest heaved and fell rapidly as he struggled to compose himself.

˚ ༘♡ letting out a slow, deep breath, he rubbed his temple, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled off his glasses. without them, his eyes looked more vulnerable, the walls he so carefully built around himself momentarily exposed. “why can’t you trust me?” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. “why is it so hard for you to believe in me?”

˚ ༘♡ the scars on his face had faded slightly but still marred his handsome, angular features. your eyes lingered on them, the memories of his battered appearance resurfacing with a painful clarity. tears welled up, blurring your vision, and a tightness settled in your throat. “then tell me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth he was about to share. “it was business dealings,” he began, his tone measured, “not illegal, but high-risk. it was meant to be a way to increase my earnings, and it worked. it was highly profitable and lucrative in the fiscal aspect. it was presented as a secure business opportunity.”

˚ ༘♡ you narrowed your gaze, suspicion flaring. “how much money are you talking about?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated for a moment before meeting your eyes. “forty-five billion six hundred million won,” he said, his expression unreadable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in you throat, your mind struggling to process the sheer enormity of the figure. “what?” you managed to choke out, your disbelief evident. “sang-woo, that kind of money doesn’t come without strings attached. it can’t be clean.”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened, and he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “do you trust me enough to believe it is?”

˚ ༘♡ you faltered, the strength of his question bearing down on you. he wasn’t explaining, he was testing your loyalty, your ability to have faith in him despite the glaring inconsistencies. deep down, doubt clawed at you, but your love for him, flawed and reckless as it was, overpowered your reservations. “i trust you,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice. “i’m sorry for questioning you.”

˚ ༘♡ he nodded, the tension in his frame easing slightly, though his gaze remained guarded. “the investment fund ended a few weeks ago,” he continued, his tone darker now. “it got messy, very messy.” his bruised hand lifted, gesturing to the faint scars on his face. “this… was the price of my involvement.”

˚ ༘♡ the word lingered between you, heavy and suffocating. you stared at him, the weight of his choices crashing down on you like an unbearable tide. “why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “don’t you know I would have stood by you? no matter what?”

˚ ༘♡ his eyes darkened, and his voice rose intensely, startling you. “because I didn’t want to drag you into my problems!” he shouted, the force of his words filling the room and making you flinch. the reaction caught him off guard, his frustration fading as he noticed the fear on your pallid face. he let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his disheveled hair before pacing the length of the room. when he returned, his expression softened, and he cupped your face gently, his touch warm despite the tension. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m sorry.”

˚ ༘♡ you had hoped that hearing the truth would make things easier, that it would bring the clarity you craved. but instead, it felt as though the distance between you had grown wider. “sang-woo,” you said softly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, “i don’t care what you’ve done or what happened. i only want to know that you’re safe, that we’ll be okay.” tears spilled freely down your pale cheeks, salty streaks marking the anguish you couldn’t hide.

˚ ༘♡ his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in a way his words couldn’t. his hand moved slowly along your back, a comforting motion that was far different than the turmoil brewing within you. “everything will be fine,” he whispered, his tone firm yet almost pleading. “i promise, it’ll all be fine.”

˚ ༘♡ despite his reassurance, you couldn’t shake the pang of unease in your stomach. his words might have been meant to comfort, but they felt fragile, as though they could shatter under the strain of whatever truths still remained hidden.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, his hand gently tilting your chin until your eyes met his. his gaze was steady, filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “i want to spend my life with you. to get married, have a family…”

˚ ༘♡ a shaky laugh escaped through your tears, a fragile moment of relief breaking through the tension. “alright,” you said softly, wiping at your damp cheeks. “let’s start with something simple. how about we go get something to eat?” your fingers brushed against his tired, weathered face, tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his features. “you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in days,” you added with a small smile.

˚ ༘♡ sang woo’s lips curved upward, faint but genuine. “that sounds good,” he replied, his voice carrying a gentleness that was almost unfamiliar after everything.

a/n: i thought sang-woo wouldn’t tell his girlfriend about the squid game, with how concerned he is with maintaining a perfect reputation. let me know if you have any other requests! 🤍

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Protective Flower

Pairing: Harry Hook x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: While making your rounds of the Isle making sure everyone still fears your name, you run into an old acquaintance. Someone oversees this and doesn't take lightly to others touching what is his.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Jealousy'

*Gif does not belong to me

Boots clicking with every step, you had not a care in the world as you walked through the Isle of the Lost. Why would you? You were the daughter of Madame Gothel, the Mother Gothel. Everyone on the Isle knew of your mother's story and with that came protection, a blanket of safety that her name alone offered you.

That didn't mean you let the glare on your features fall or had your back turned on anyone for too long. With brisk steps you passed through different sections of the Isle, never staying for too long. It was only when you saw the back of someone's head whom you never thought you'd see again.

"Jay?" You slowly question, your voice hesitant in case who you thought was in front of you was an illusion or just an insanely good look-alike whom you've never seen before that day. It was only when the boy's head of long brown hair turned and a whisper of your name left his lips that you knew it was him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had gotten off this island and were at Auradon."

"Some circumstances have changed," He muttered with a coy grin, bounding his way over to you. The fast approach made you take a few small steps back, trying to put distance in between the two of you in case he decided to try something, though Jay bypassed this easily, one of his strides making up for three of yours as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. "I've missed you. We all have."

You froze immediately as you were engulfed, not expecting the embrace and hardly knowing what to call it. The feeling that arose from being trapped within Jay's arms was odd, almost comforting. That didn't matter though as you kept your arms glued to your side, not raising them to return the gesture.

"I'm sure it would've passed," You mumbled, voice gruff as you remembered what it had been like before Jay, Mal, Evie and Carlos left the Isle. How things have changed since then. Your words caused Jay to finally pull back, which you were both grateful for since the action was weak, though also longed for it to return, the simple contact something you have never experienced on the Isle evoking something within you. It must have been some trickery Auradon had taught them. "You never did say why you were here. And if you're here, I'm assuming so are the others."

"About that," Jay trailed off, hand sheepishly going to rub at the back of his neck. The action instantly had you quirking an eyebrow, never before seen such an action from the taller VK. Or former VK. "Carlos actually sent me to come and find you. We were wondering if we could use your help. Like old times-"

"What do we have here?" A taunting voice called out, cutting off the end of Jay's sentence, not that you needed to hear the rest of it to know what he was asking of you. You didn't even bat an eye to the new voice, coming well accustomed to it in the past year, more so than before Jay and his little redeemed squad had run off. "Runnin' into ya two times in a day has got ta be a good omen."

Jay's whole deemer immediately changed at not only the sight of him but also the sound. Turning an annoyed glare that held more heat than you knew Jay could still muster onto the newest arrival, Jay greeted him with a less than pleased grunt, "Hook."

Harry Hook, in all his glory, came out from the shadows he had previously lurking in so the deranged grin he was flashing could be seen by all.

"Don't sound so sad ta see me," Harry's laugh felt as if a harsh bite had sunken into you. It wasn't unwelcomed but such a stark contrast to what Jay had offered you moments ago. His eyes fell on you quickly, blue irises sucking you in as he walked closer, sealing his spot at your side as he wrapped a tight arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his side. "I was wondering when the two of yer would meet again. It was only a matter of time I suppose."

Jay's eyes locked in on the hand on your waist, Harry's fingers flexing at the sight as they curled in tighter. The sensation didn't hurt, not when you've felt it before. It was almost comforting, though in a different way to how Jay tried offering it. You weren't oblivious enough to not understand that Harry was staking his claim, however, making it known to Jay how things were running this time around.

"I didn't know the two of you had buddied up since we've been gone," Jay had to drag his eyes away from where the two of you were connected, never taking his eyes off of you as he refused to look into Harry's.

"Things have changed since you and the others were taken off the Isle," You shrugged your shoulders up as you spoke, giving it to Jay plainly. After he and the others left you were without a gang to call your own, leaving you to resort to other means of getting by. "Not all of us were whisked away to be Princesses and Princes."

"I can see that," Jay breathes out as if the words were vile on his tongue. You weren't ashamed of this. Just because you had grown closer to Harry and his crew in his and the other's absence didn't mean you were going to flip a switch now that they were back. "It was nice catching up with you. If you want to talk more, you know where to find us."

"I'll see you around Jay," You bid your farewell, surprised that Harry was able to remain as quiet as he did. Not sparing you another word, though his eyes flickered down to where Harry kept his hold on you, Jay turned away so he could make his way back to the hideout he must've come from.

"Now wasn't that a lovely chat," Harry chirped, rounding on you once Jay was out of sight. His other hand came down to your hip, resting there tightly as he slowly began to back you up. "I was just on my way to warn ya as well of Mal and her little crew's arrival. Somehow ya always beat me to it though."

"I must just be lucky at sniffing out people with pretty faces," You say, not a second later your back came in contact with the wall behind you, a small huff leaving your nose at the contact. With a cruel quirk of your lips, you bring a hand up to pass through some of his hair. "Maybe that's how I found you all those months ago."

"Cute," Harry barked out a bitter laugh, bringing his face closer to yours. Some of that bitterness seeped into his face as he looked down at you, his next words coming as a sting. "Uma doesn't want ya going near them. Who knows what they've brought from Auradon. And we all know how close ya were with them before they left."

"Good thing Uma doesn't control what I do then," You dipped your face to the side as Harry tried to trap your lips in a harsh kiss, his teeth ready to make an appearance. Instead, a kiss was left on your cheek, the pirate recoiling back once he realised. With a smirk of your own, you leaned in, trailing feather-light kisses across his neck and jaw. Your lips ghosted his skin, never staying in one spot for too long. "Though I'm sure an exception could be made if you asked nicely."

"Stay away from Jay and his friends," Harry spoke lowly, lips chasing after yours as you continued to evade him. With a raised brow, you stared at him as if you were waiting for more, leaning back so he couldn't reach you. With an eye roll from his dark eyes, an abundance of eyeliner smeared around them, he grinned out, "Please."

You waited a few moments, bringing both of your hands up to cup his face. Dragging him slowly, you brushed your lips quickly against his, muttering before finally giving him what he wanted, "I'll consider it."

[ora-draws]

A little analysis on how Hans & Henry were handled post-ending (heavy KCD2 spoiler alert)

Ok, so I've seen a lot of people talk about how they feel like the ending-part after the siege falls short when it comes to Hansry and leaves out a lot of possible interactions that could have been included.

And I feel you there, although I'm also a big fan of show-don't-tell and leaving things to imagination and interpretation.

However saying we got like a 4 minute romance scene after only being fed crumbs for hundreds of hours does not only fail to acknowledge the crafty subtlety with which their relationship and development has been told over the whole course – it also disregards how impactful the ending actually is.

More under the cut.

In order to put this into perspective, we need to consider not only Hans and Henry, but also the other main romance options: Rosa and Katherine. Rosa happens rather mid-game and while she isn't as mutually exclusive as Kat/Hans, she can be Henry's desired sweetheart by the end if you so choose. Yet whether you do or not, Rosa tells Henry that she considers this a one-time thing, even comes across rather pragmatic about it and tells him off by reminding you that any future is impossible anyway, since he is bastard and she's a nobleman's daughter.

As for Katherine, this is a bit more complicated; she opens up to Henry a bit in the very last moment, they spend an intimate and vulnerable moment together, finding comfort in each other's arms. Yet although she is clearly relieved about Henry's survival and brightens up after the siege, she's more open than set on staying with him, yet implies she'll give it a try. And that's understandable, given her past and circumstances. She even mentions how she doesn't believe she can truly ever be happy again, even if you suggest looking forward. There's a lot of shared trauma here which gives common ground, but is the biggest obstacle at the same time. Apart from that, Kat doesn't bring a lot of baggage, she's a commoner like you, and is just as unbound.

And then we have Hans. Who is not only literally the 'worst' choice Henry could have made in any possible regard considering time period and society, but also a 'lost cause'. We spend half of the ending dialogue with him and Hanush talking about how Henry needs to force him to attend his wedding if the need shall arise. And yet, despite all things given, the moment you can talk privately, Hans doesn't give a second thought to all this. Not only is he genuinely happy and relieved about Henry's well-being: He has no regrets, utters no doubts about what has happend, and the first thing he talks about is how to postpone the wedding as long as possible, even if he cannot avoid it in the end.

He is annoyed, yes, but he doesn't despair about it – and remarks quite clearly that he and Henry will just need to see how things will work out for them. Which is sensible, even if it is also naive. They could never be together openly anyway. But again, it's worth mentioning how even with all that uncercainty, he treats it with a genuine & positive outlook. And – of course – let's not forget that he right away (and happily) jumps onto your offer to take a look at his arrow wound and very bluntly makes the suggestion to find a place which is more private again, showing he wants to be close with you again and stay this way. And Hans – ironically – is the only love interest who does it this way. Which is absolutely heartwrenching and sweet and says a lot, even if we don't get 'much'.

And it is also very very Hans lmao. The second you are alone he's like: Yeah, that's my man, fuck everything, let's go. One has to keep in mind that his heartbreaking Galehaut/Lancelot talk was possibly one of his most vulnerable moments and a rather stark contrast to his usual behavior, because there was just so much at stake. If at all, it shows how much it meant to him.

I see a lot of people depict him as very sensitive, passive or whiny, but honestly, while he can be a spoiled brat and a nuisance, Hans is everything BUT subtle most of the time: he's impulsive, needy, jealous and a short-tempered hothead and it's a very lovely detail this shines through as soon as you are together again. Why? Because it shows how he feels comfortable in his skin and with his choice – and with Henry. Despite everything. This sets him quite apart from the other LIs imo & and all these little details are what make their story and relationship so appealing.

If you've read all of this: Thank you.💚 This is a first for me, I never engaged this much with people online before. I was somehow sucked into this fandom and I genuinely love it, it's an absolutely lovely and welcoming community.

Thanks also to @dill-weeds for chatting about this beforehand, it made me write this down ha.

[izzyzt]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥’𝐬 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f/reader — squid game

| Y/N confronts the recruiter after two years, but he turns the tables with a sinister game and a chilling warning: “This is your only warning, sweetheart.”|

———————————————————————————

Y/N slammed the door to the cheap motel room shut, tossing her bag onto the creaky bed. The room smelled like stale air and mildew, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t about comfort; it was a pit stop on her endless hunt for him.

It had been two years since she escaped the Squid Game alive, but she was anything but free. The blood money still sat untouched in a locked safe, a constant reminder of the lives she took and the people she lost. And above all, it reminded her of him—the man who started it all.

The man who gave her that damn card.

He had a face she couldn’t forget, one that haunted her even now: sharp features, a smile too charming for someone so cruel, and eyes that sparkled with amusement no matter the circumstance. She didn’t know his name, but that didn’t matter. She’d been chasing his shadow ever since, following every lead, every whispered rumor.

Tonight, she’d finally seen him again—on the subway. He was sitting there, calm as ever, as though the two years of her obsessive search had been nothing but a game to him. She had pushed through the crowded train to get to him, but he slipped out just as the doors opened, vanishing into the bustling platform.

And now here she was, back in this dingy motel, trying to piece together her next move.

But then, a voice she hadn’t heard in two years broke through the silence, smooth and playful.

“Took you long enough.”

Her blood froze.

Y/N turned sharply, and there he was. Him.

He was sitting in the armchair by the window, one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed. His suit was sharp and pristine, a stark contrast to the shabby room, and his eyes sparkled with an unsettling combination of amusement and mischief.

“How did you get in here?” she demanded, her voice sharp and trembling with anger.

He tilted his head, like a curious child trying to solve a puzzle.

“You really should learn to lock your doors, Y/N.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she stepped toward him, her body burning with rage.

“What do you want?”

He stood, taking his time, adjusting his cuffs as though she hadn’t spoken. When he finally met her gaze, his smile widened.

“What do I want?” he repeated, stepping closer. “That’s the wrong question. You’ve been looking for me, haven’t you? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Her rage boiled over, and without thinking, she threw a punch at him.

He caught her wrist mid-air with startling ease, his grip firm yet calculated. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—just smiled as though she’d done exactly what he wanted.

“Now, now,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm. “Is that any way to greet someone you’ve been chasing for so long?”

She yanked her hand free, glaring at him with fire in her eyes. “You ruined my life!”

His brow arched as he took another step forward, forcing her to back into the edge of the bed.

“Ruined it?” he echoed, his tone soft, almost pitying. “Or gave it purpose?”

She wanted to shove him again, to scream, but the way he was watching her—calm, unflinching, almost playful—stopped her in her tracks. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between his fingers like a magician about to perform a trick.

“Let’s play a game,” he said, his voice light and cheerful, as though they were old friends.

Her jaw tightened.

“I’m not playing anything with you.”

He pouted, tilting his head.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. Heads or tails. You pick.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he replied, flipping the coin between his fingers. “Just a simple game. Call it.”

Her hands balled into fists again, but this time she swallowed her anger, narrowing her eyes.

“Heads.”

He grinned, flipping the coin high into the air. It caught the flickering light as it spun before landing neatly in his palm. He didn’t reveal the result right away, instead stepping closer, so close that she could feel his breath against her skin.

“Are you sure about that?” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

“Just show me,” she snapped.

He opened his hand slowly, revealing tails.

His grin widened as he leaned in, his hands moving to the bed on either side of her, caging her in. The space between them vanished, his presence suffocating.

“Looks like you lose,” he murmured, his tone deceptively gentle.

“What now?” she spat, refusing to let the proximity rattle her.

His smile softened, but the intensity in his eyes burned brighter.

“Now, we see how far you’re willing to go.”

She tried to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. His gaze never wavered as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“You’re messing with my work, sweetheart, and I can’t let that happen.”

Her breath hitched as his hand brushed against her jaw, tilting her chin upward. His grip was light, almost tender, but it sent shivers down her spine.

“This is your only warning,” he continued, his lips barely an inch from hers. “Back off. Or next time, you won’t see me coming.”

With that, he released her and stepped back, adjusting his cuffs as though nothing had happened.

Y/N glared at him, her chest rising and falling with barely controlled rage.

“I’m not stopping,” she said, her voice trembling with defiance.

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous.

“Good,” he said, walking toward the door. “That makes it so much more fun.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence. On the table by the window, she noticed the coin he had left behind, perfectly balanced on its edge, a taunting reminder that the game was far from over.

[lovecoatedwords]

Promised vows

poly marauders x reader

summary: Y/N is married off to James, Sirius, and Remus due to family obligations, and though their relationship starts cold and distant, they slowly begin to fall in love with her.

Next

The halls of the grand estate were silent but for the quiet shuffle of footsteps as you made your way down the aisle. The soft rustle of your wedding gown was the only sound in the otherwise still air, a stark contrast to the churning chaos in your mind. This was supposed to be your day, but the weight of what had transpired in the days before loomed larger than anything else.

Your father was dead, taken from you by the ruthless forces of a rival family, a vicious attack that had left him broken, and his life snatched away too soon. And now your mother, though still alive, was fading—each breath she took a reminder of her slow and inevitable demise. Her last act of care for you had been this: a marriage that bound you to three men you barely knew, in a family you’d never imagined becoming part of. It wasn’t love that had brought you here—it was survival.

The ceremony had been cold, impersonal. A formality. Your mother, too ill to attend, had sent a letter, expressing her last wishes for your safety. You hadn’t been allowed to argue, to protest, and by the time you’d accepted the inevitability of the situation, your fate had already been sealed.

Now, you were wed to these men—three strangers who, for reasons beyond your understanding, were willing to marry you despite everything that had led to this moment.

James Potter. Sirius Black. Remus Lupin.

All powerful in their own right, all selected to keep you safe. But you were just a pawn in a game you hadn’t been given a say in, a daughter used to protect the remnants of a legacy your father had left behind. It wasn’t love that had brought you here—it was survival.

The quiet that followed the ceremony was deafening, each of you retreating to your separate corners. You were led to your new home, a house that felt empty despite its size, the halls hollow, the rooms vast and cold. No one had told you where you would sleep. No one had made any effort to ease your confusion, your grief.

They didn’t speak to you after the vows. No one had offered any words of comfort or reassurance. You were married, and that was the end of it.

You were now their wife, a woman bound by law and circumstance to three men who would, no doubt, fulfill their duties as your protectors. But nothing more. Not yet. Perhaps never.

The quiet that followed the ceremony was deafening, each of you retreating to your separate corners. You were led to your new home, a house that felt empty despite its size, the halls hollow, the rooms vast and cold. No one had told you where you would sleep. No one had made any effort to ease your confusion, your grief.

The morning after your wedding was the first time you had truly woken up in your new life, but nothing about it felt new. It felt like a continuation of the nightmare you’d been thrust into. The heavy silence in the house was suffocating, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were nothing more than a stranger here. You had been married the day before, but not once did any of the men speak to you, not in any way that might be considered personal. There were no congratulations, no words of kindness or comfort. There was nothing.

Your body ached from the ceremony, but not in the way you expected. The weight of the marriage had pressed heavily on you, as though the vows you’d exchanged had tethered you to a future you didn’t want. Your wedding night had been no different than any other night—silent, cold, and devoid of any intimacy.

When you opened your eyes that morning, you found yourself alone in the large bed. The sheets were twisted around you, your limbs tangled in them like a cocoon you couldn’t escape from. You stayed there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together your thoughts. The silence was deafening, but it wasn’t the quiet you sought—it was the kind of silence that told you there was no room for you here. No place for you in this strange new life.

The house was too still. You pulled yourself out of bed and walked to the window, peering out into the garden below. The light was soft, the world outside quiet and calm, but inside, there was only this lingering feeling of being trapped.

As you dressed, you could hear the faint sound of footsteps outside your door, but when you opened it, there was no one there. No one came to check on you. No one knocked, no one asked if you were all right. You could have disappeared from this house, and no one would have noticed.

Finally, you made your way downstairs, drawn to the sounds of life you could hear faintly from the kitchen. The men were there, you realized, but they didn’t seem to notice your presence. James was leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed on the papers in front of him. Remus was seated at the table, flipping through a book, his attention fully absorbed. Sirius sat by the window, his gaze distant, lost in thought.

None of them looked up when you entered. None of them said a word. It was as if you were invisible, just another piece of furniture in this cold house.

You stood there, unsure of what to do. Your heart ached, the emptiness inside you growing larger with every passing second. You wanted to speak, to ask them something—anything—but you couldn’t find the words. What was there to say, anyway? You had already said your vows, already been bound to them by duty. There was nothing left to say.

The minutes passed, and the silence grew heavier.

Sirius was the first to acknowledge you, but it wasn’t with any warmth. He simply gave you a passing glance before looking back out the window, his eyes hardened. “You’re awake,” was all he said, and then he fell silent again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to reply. What was there to say to him? To any of them? The weight of the marriage was heavy, and it felt like the air itself was suffocating you. Their silence was louder than anything.

James broke the silence next, but again, it wasn’t anything comforting. He set down the papers he’d been working on and finally glanced up at you, his face impassive, eyes dark with fatigue. “Breakfast is ready,” he muttered. “Help yourself.”

You nodded, your throat dry, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t move. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, or even where you belonged in this new arrangement. You had never asked for any of this, but here you were, married to three men who hadn’t shown you a single shred of kindness.

Remus, ever the quieter one, lifted his gaze to meet yours for a brief moment. His eyes softened just slightly, but the distance between you was still too vast for him to cross. “I know this is difficult,” he said softly, his voice a touch warmer than the others. “We’re just… adjusting.”

“Adjusting,” you repeated numbly, not knowing what to make of the word. It seemed so hollow in this context, like a half-hearted excuse for the way everything had turned out. Adjusting. As if that was enough to make you feel any less abandoned.

The tension in the room was palpable. You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. None of you did.

It wasn’t until after breakfast, when you were alone in the sitting room, that you allowed yourself to process what was happening. This was your life now. This was your reality. You had no say in the matter, no choice but to live through it. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest as you realized that, despite everything, you didn’t belong here. You weren’t wanted. You were simply a necessity—a piece of a plan you had no part in.

a/n: tell me if you wanna be tagged in the next!!

[vunblr]

Foundations (#8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms. (Bucky). Smut.

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 7.4.k.

note: And we have reached the end. Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and accompanying me through the story.

Previous chapter

Her mouth went dry.

His body was a masterpiece of muscle and scar tissue, broad shoulders tapering down to a defined waist, and taut skin covering a sculpted chest. The light caught on the hard lines of his abdomen, and the faint trail of hair leading below the waistband of his sweats.

But it was the contrast that stole her breath.

The way flesh met metal at his shoulder, how his arm caught the light of the room, gleaming with every slight movement. The way his muscles flexed and tensed as he rolled his neck, adjusting to the loss of fabric. He was solid, real, and beautiful in a way that was both raw and devastating.

And he was looking at her like he could see every thought running wild through her head. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

“I take you like what you see?” he asked, a disarming half-smile tugging at his lips.

She didn’t answer right away. Didn’t need to. Her parted lips, the slow, deliberate drag of her gaze over his body, he saw it all.

But inside, something in him diminished the way she was looking at him.

He wasn’t the cocky bastard who knew the effect he had on a dame, who could throw a wink and have a girl melting in his hands.

He was… this. The patchwork of scars, the jagged edges of skin fused back together, the gleaming vibranium where flesh used to be. Someone once told him he had body dysmorphia or something like that. He didn’t know. Didn’t care. As a man of his time, he only believed in what he could see, and the image the mirror returned to him every day wasn't exactly the one of a charmer.

But, right now, she was looking at him like he was something worth wanting. Patchwork or not, she had chosen him.

He crawled up her on the bed and her nightdress bunched up around her thighs as his hands roamed, rough and warm against her skin. He groaned softly, gripping the fabric, trailing upward with deliberate slowness.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” he muttered, voice thick with hunger.

She swallowed hard, as he pushed the nightdress higher. His fingers brushed along her sides, tracing her waist before sliding up, skimming just beneath the fabric.

He gave her a look, one last moment for her to stop him. She didn’t.

Instead, she lifted her hips, arching her back to help him pull it off completely. The gown slipped over her head and onto the floor, forgotten.

Bucky bit his lip slightly at the sight of her naked body, waiting beneath him in just a pair of panties.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, settling his hands on her thighs.

The cool air of the room pebbled her nipples, drawing his piercing gaze like a magnet. She could feel the heat of his stare, almost tangible and her thighs trembled slightly under his large, calloused hands as they kneaded the soft flesh. She parted them instinctively, inviting him closer, silently begging for more. The damp patch on her underwear darkened as the slick flooded her pussy.

He leaned down, ghosting his lips along the column of her throat, feeling her pulse jump beneath his mouth. One hand slid up her side to cup her breast, thumbing the stiff peak of her nipple. “Look at you, he growled appreciatively, so fucking beautiful like this. All spread out for me.”

His other hand dipped between her thighs, grazing over the damp lace covering her sex. He could feel the heat, and smell her arousal. It made his cock throb insistently against the confines of his sweatpants.

Bucky nipped at her earlobe, fanning his hot breath across her skin as he whispered huskily, “Tell me what you want, doll.”

She could feel herself growing slicker by the second, the damp lace clinging obscenely to her folds. She finally found her voice. "Please, Bucky," she whimpered, "I want your hands on me. Y-your mouth. I want you inside me." Emboldened by desire, she reached out to palm his cock, straining against his pants. She could feel him, so big and hard already, and it made her clench with anticipation. She bit her lip and rubbed intently his neglected tent.

He hissed, and his hips jerked involuntarily into her hand. He cursed and grabbed her wrist, stopping her movements with a firm grip. “Not yet. Wanna taste you, sweetheart, I'm fucking drunk with the scent of that sweet pussy of yours” His Brooklyn accent rolled out, thick with desire. “Spend all my mission’s nights remembering it, recalling how close I was to dip my fingers inside your underwear on that fucking couch and then pull ‘em off and suck them dry.”  

She felt the heat invade her face. It was the first time she had heard him talk dirty like that… and she liked it. A lot. So she nodded, shyly.

He groaned, releasing her wrist only to grab her hips with both hands, yanking her to the edge of the bed. He kneeled between her thighs, and hooked his fingers in her soaked panties, dragging them down her legs, and carelessly tossing them aside. Then, he pushed her thighs further apart to expose her to his hungry gaze. “Spread wider for me, doll. Wanna see all of you. Wanna see what’s mine.” His accent thickened again with arousal as he spread her further.

Without more preamble he leaned in, dragging the flat of his tongue through her slick folds in one slow, savoring lick. She moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Shh don’t wanna wake up Thomas, don’t ya?” Bucky growled against her thigh before diving back in, sealing his lips around her clit and suckling hard.

She bit her hand, muffling her reaction as Bucky's tongue worked on her sensitive flesh. Her thighs quaked on either side of his head as he fucked her with his tongue to then suckle on her swollen bundle of nerves again. “Oh god, Bucky!” she gasped out in a harsh whisper, grinding herself shamelessly against his face. “Don't stop!” Her nails raked down his scalp, urging him on. She could feel herself hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly fast, a result of weeks of pent-up tension and dirty fantasies starring this very scenario.

He growled against her slick heat, and the vibrations sent shockwaves of pleasure through her pussy. He doubled his efforts, delving his tongue deep to lap at her inner walls before flicking rapidly over her clit. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her wider, holding her open for his oral assault.

“That's it darlin’, let go for me”, he urged, muffled and rough.  “Wanna taste that sweet cream.” He sealed his lips around her clit once more, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers knuckle-deep inside her. Curling them just right, he found the spot inside her that made her mewl, as he flicked his tongue rapidly over her sensitive bud.

Bucky could feel her trembling, hear the desperate little sounds she tried to stifle. He knew she was close, teetering on the brink.

Her entire body tensed, and her back arched off the bed as her orgasm crashed over her body. She had to shove a pillow over her face to muffle her cries of ecstasy, bucking her hips against Bucky's mouth as he relentlessly worked her through it. Her inner muscles clenched rhythmically around his plunging fingers, trying to draw him deeper and she was acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched, the rasp of his stubble against her inner thighs, the firm grip of his hand on her ass, the heat of his breath on her oversensitive flesh, his fingers still inside her.

With a final kiss to her mound, he withdrew his hand and sat back on his heels, drinking in the debauched sight of her sprawled out on the sheets. The evidence of her release glistened on her thighs. “You're fucking gorgeous like this,” Bucky rasped. He brought his coated fingers to his mouth, making a show of licking them clean as his heated gaze locked with hers. “Delicious too.”

She watched through hooded eyes as he cleaned her slick from his fingers, and the erotic sight sent a fresh gush of heat through her body.

When he was done, he moved to straddle her hips. The thick ridge of his erection nestled against her stomach as he loomed over her. His large hands cupped the undersides of her breasts, lifting them slightly as if presenting them to him. He swiped his thumbs over the stiff nipples, teasing them into even tighter buds. He rolled and pinched the sensitive flesh, alternating between light caresses and firmer squeezes, gauging her reactions. 

“Like this, doll?” he rumbled as he leaned down and latched his mouth on one aching nipple, alternating between deep pulls and feather-light flicks of his tongue.

Her hands fly to his hair, pulling him closer as she shamelessly rubbed herself against his throbbing cock. “So, so much. But- I want you inside, Bucky.” her whisper was breathy and desperate.

He groaned against her breast, and his hips rocked reflexively into her touch. He let go of her nipple, dragging his lips up to her jaw, then her cheek, nuzzling her as he tried to calm himself against her bare, needy pussy. The friction of her soft body against his aching cock was maddening.

“Wanna take care of you,” he murmured, nearly pleading. “It’s been so long, doll. It’s pathetic, I-” His throat closed, and shame curled in his gut.

He couldn’t look at her.

He wanted this -oh, how he wanted this- but deep down, he was worried at the thought that he was about to fall apart in her arms like some desperate, touch-starved boy. Because that’s what he was, wasn’t he? It had been so fucking long since he’d had anything close to this willingly, and he knew himself. Knew his body. He wasn’t going to last.

His fingers pressed on her breasts, and he exhaled shakily. “I know I’m not gonna last once I’m inside you.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, thick with something raw.

She cradled his stubbled face, brushing her thumbs over the tension on his cheekbones. Gently, insistently, she tilted his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Look at me.”

He hesitated but obeyed.

Her expression was soft, so damn understanding it made something in his chest ache. No judgment, no pity.

“There’s nothing pathetic here,” she murmured, tracing slow, soothing circles with her thumbs. “You’ve been through so much, carried so many burdens alone, Bucky. But you don’t have to do that with me. I don’t give a damn if you come just now.”

He let out a slow, shuddering breath, pressing his forehead to hers. “You sure about this, doll?”

She smiled, tilting her hips up, teasing him with just the slightest roll against his clothed length. “What do you think?”

That was all he needed.

He pulled back, rising from the bed in one fluid motion, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, and shoving them down in one swift motion. His cock sprang free, thick and aching. He didn’t bother with theatrics, just kicked the fabric aside with one foot, letting it land somewhere near the desk. His focus was entirely on her, sprawled out before him, waiting and wanting.

For a second, he just stood there, looking at her, with his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. Then, unable to resist any longer, he crawled back onto the bed, settling between her thighs.

She reached for him, sliding her hands over the planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the flex of muscle beneath. Her fingertips traced the lines of his scars, and when her hands reached his shoulders, she pulled him down, guiding him to hover over her. Their faces were mere inches apart, breaths mingling in the charged space between them.

"I want you," she whispered, "Don't hold back, Bucky. Please."

A ragged groan tore from his throat as he sank into her, inch by inch, the tight, wet heat of her stealing the air from his lungs. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of her head, trembling with restraint as he fought to go slow, to savor the moment.

“Jesus,” he choked out, his forehead dropping to her shoulder. His breath was hot against her skin, ragged as he tried to calm himself. “You feel- fuck.”

Her hands were everywhere, gripping his shoulders, sliding down his back, her nails pressing into his skin as she adjusted to the stretch of his size. She tilted her hips, urging him deeper, and he felt himself unraveling, the restraint slipping like sand through his fingers.

Bucky lifted his head, finding her gaze, pupils blown wide, lips parted as she let out a soft, breathy moan. That sound alone nearly did him in.

"You okay?" he rasped, voice rough with effort.

She nodded, biting her lip, then whispered, "Move, Bucky."

His hips rolled forward, slow at first, savoring every inch of her warmth, and the way her body yielded to him so perfectly. A shudder wracked through his body as he pulled back, only to thrust in again, deeper this time.

Her breath hitched, fingers gripping his back, nails digging in just enough to make him groan. The feeling, the tight drag of her pussy around him, the way she clenched with every movement, it was too good, too much.

"Fuck, doll," he rasped. She let out a soft whimper, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.

He tried to pace himself, tried to hold back, but she met him thrust for thrust, and it was intoxicating, overwhelming.

Her lips brushed against his, her breath hot as she whispered, “More.”

“Fuck, darlin’” He groaned, gripping her thighs and yanking her flush against him, and a sharp gasp left her lips as he drove into her with a force that had her back arching off the mattress. His hands dug into her flesh, holding her in place as he set a relentless pace, each thrust deep and demanding than before.

"Fuck," he gritted out, his voice was rough, almost ragged. "You feel too good- too fuckin’ good, doll."

Her nails raked down his back, desperate to hold onto something as he wrecked her, her body bowing under each hard snap of his hips. She gasped, trying to say his name, but the force of his movements kept stealing her breath.

"You wanted this," he growled, pressing her thighs further apart, angling deeper until she cried out behind clamped hands. "Begged for it, now take it."

Her head fell back against the pillow, and he was beyond gone. His mouth found her throat, grazing sensitive skin with his teeth before latching on, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands were everywhere: gripping, kneading, holding her under her ass, tilting her hips to take him even deeper as he lost himself in her.

Her barely concealed moans were a sweet symphony. Every gasp, every shudder, every little whimper sent him spiraling further, deeper into the abyss of need he’d been drowning in for so long.

His pace stuttered for a moment, and he knew he didn’t have much time left before his touch-starved body succumbed to the pleasure.

“Sweetheart, gonna come. Can't- fuck, can't hold it.” His voice was ragged, almost desperate. He changed the angle of his thrusts, grinding against her clit with each snap of his hips, as his thumb rubbed tight circles around it while he drove into her harder, deeper. He could feel his balls tightening, and the base of his shaft starting to pulse with impending release.

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered, needy. “Give it to me, Bucky.”

“Please, please, please, wanna feel you squeeze my cock when I fill you up.” The filthy words fell from his lips like a prayer, punctuated by the slap of skin on skin and the creak of the bed frame.

“You don’t have to- oh! Oh fuck!” His fingers pinched her clit and combined with the relentless drag of his cock against that perfect spot inside her, he pushed her right to another orgasm.

Bucky threw his head back with a guttural moan as her spasming heat pushed him irremediably over the edge. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm as he emptied himself inside her with a few more erratic thrusts.

He stayed close, bracketing her with his arms, unwilling to lose the warmth of her body against his. His chest heaved against hers, and his heart hammered so loud he swore she could hear it.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, caught in the haze of pleasure. Then, with a soft hum, Bucky pressed a slow, tender kiss to her temple.

She was wrecked, her body felt boneless against his, and he could feel the faint tremors in her limbs as she tried to catch her breath.

Guilt curled in his chest, even as the satisfaction warmed his bones. He had been so desperate, so fucking unhinged. Carefully, he shifted onto his back, dragging her with him, tucking her against his chest. His vibranium arm slid beneath her, curling protectively around her waist, while his other hand found its way to her hair stroking it absently.

She let out a contented sigh, melting into his embrace, dragging her leg over his hip, and tracing idly patterns over the ridges of his pectorals with her fingers. "I'm sure you have listened to this a thousand times, but you are so damn handsome." she said, kissing his chest, just on a bullet scar.

"I used to hear it, yeah, a lifetime ago," he murmured, a little uncomfortable. "Now I'm- this is the first time after-"

"Oh, I have no problem reminding you every day," she interrupted softly, pressing another kiss in the scarred tissue that joined with the prosthesis, like she was trying to erase the past with tenderness alone.

Bucky let out a shaky breath. "Fuck. Don’t say those kinds of things."

"Why?" she murmured against his skin, her breath warm. "It’s the truth."

It was a truth he had spent years rejecting, drowning in guilt and self-loathing. He couldn't reconcile the idea that someone like her -bright, warm, whole- could want someone like him. Letting aside the arm, the scars, the patchwork of a body that didn’t feel like his own, there was all that neurological shit, the PTSD, the weight of a past he would never fully escape.

But… as he’d admitted to himself days before, he was a selfish bastard.

And he was done relegating himself to the shadows.

So he did the only thing that made sense, he rolled her beneath him again, caging her in with his body, and captured her lips in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

----

Bucky was leaning against the counter, with his fingers curled around a steaming mug of coffee, while she stood by the stove, mindlessly stirring a pan of eggs. He had already offered to cook, but she had swatted him away with a teasing “You did enough last night.” That had earned her a low chuckle and a smirk, but now, as he watched her move around his kitchen, it hit him just how much had changed in less than twenty-four hours.

Thomas was still asleep, blissfully unaware of that shift between them. And maybe that was for the best. They had talked about it before bed, about whether to sit him down and explain everything or let things unfold naturally. They had landed somewhere in the middle. No grand announcements, no life-altering conversations just yet. Just small changes. Small moments.

Like now.

She moved to pour herself some coffee, and when she reached for the sugar, his hand shot out, effortlessly taking the jar from the shelf above her head, leaning against her body, and passing it to her without a word. A small, natural thing. Familiar.

She looked at him for a second, a small smile playing at her lips, before murmuring, “Thanks, babe.”

His fingers twitched against his mug. That was new.

His eyes flicked to her, trying to picture if she had said it absentmindedly or if she was testing the waters. But she just went back to stirring her coffee, as if she had always called him that, as if it wasn’t unraveling something tight in his chest.

Bucky exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “You tryna kill me first thing in the morning?”

She grinned. “Just seeing how it feels.”

It felt good. Dangerous, maybe. But good.

Before he could say anything, a sleepy shuffle sounded from the hallway, followed by a groggy voice. “Mornin’.”

Thomas padded into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes,. His hair was a complete mess, sticking up in every direction. He yawned, clambering onto a chair at the table, blinking at the plate of food already waiting for him.

Bucky reached over and ruffled his son’s hair. “You slept late, bud.”

Thomas blinked up at her. Then, as if remembering something, he perked up. “You’re stayed over again?”

She hesitated, but Bucky answered before she had to. “Yeah.”

Thomas seemed to consider that for a second before shrugging and reaching for his toast. “Cool.”

She and Bucky exchanged a glance. Small changes. Small steps.

----

There was something different about Bucky.

Steve had known him for a long time, long enough to recognize that the man wasn’t the same as he had been just a month ago. Not that Bucky had ever been miserable -okay, maybe he had-, but it was a soft kind of miserable, the kind he carried in his shoulders and the downward cast of his eyes.

That weight? It had lifted. Not entirely, but enough.

Enough that he didn’t immediately say no when Sam suggested grabbing a beer. Enough that he had started showing up to training sessions without needing to be dragged in. Enough that when Clint had shoved a dumb little bobblehead figurine in his face last week, instead of an unimpressed glare, Bucky had smirked and said, "That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen."

Which, by Bucky standards, was practically a compliment.

But the real kicker?

The thing that had set off every alarm bell in Steve’s head?

Bucky had called Natasha’s keychain cute.

So, yeah. It was time for an intervention.

This was why Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha were currently loitering in the gym, watching Bucky put a reinforced training dummy through hell. They were subtle about it, standing just far enough apart to seem casual, arms crossed or hands on hips, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Sam was the first to break the silence. “So, Tinman. You seem... cheerful lately.”

Bucky didn’t pause his assault on the dummy, but Steve caught the way his jaw clenched just slightly.

“I seem normal,” Bucky corrected, landing a sharp jab. “Which apparently is a crime now.”

Clint snorted. “Nah, normal would be you scowling while beating the hell out of that thing. But you? You’re smiling these days, man. It’s weird. It’s unnatural.”

Bucky finally stopped, exhaling sharply as he wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Maybe I’m just in a good mood. You ever consider that?”

Steve exchanged glances with the others before looking back at Bucky. “And what, exactly, put you in such a good mood?”

Bucky almost got away with brushing them off. Almost.

But then Natasha smirked, tilting her head just so, and said, “Yeah, Barnes. What’s got you all domesticated lately?”

Bucky huffed, reaching for his water bottle and taking a long sip, dragging out the pause like it would somehow make them drop the subject. It didn’t.

Steve stood firm, with his arms crossed, wearing that all-knowing, annoying-as-hell look he always got when Bucky was trying to bullshit his way out of something. Sam had a smirk that screamed I’m about to make this worse for you, and Clint was practically vibrating with the need to say something inappropriate. Natasha, meanwhile, just looked amused.

“Come on, Buck,” Sam drawled, tilting his head. “What’s got you walking around like you just discovered life’s not a raging dumpster fire?”

“Maybe I just don’t hate people as much as I used to,” Bucky shot back, tossing his empty bottle toward the bin. It bounced off the rim. He scowled.

Clint snorted. “Yeah, no. Something’s up. Spill.”

“Nothing’s up,” Bucky said, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. “I’ve just-” He hesitated, just for a second, but it was enough.

Sam’s smirk widened. “You’ve just what, Buck?”

Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I’m seeing someone.”

There was a brief pause. Then Clint and Sam turned to each other, grinning like idiots.

“Naughty nanny,” they said in unison.

Bucky’s expression darkened instantly. He dropped the towel and turned toward them with a sharp look. “Don’t call her that.”

His voice wasn’t raised, but there was something in the way he said it, that made both of them shut it. Even Clint, who usually had no sense of self-preservation, put his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. Relax, man,” Sam said quickly, clearly realizing they’d struck a nerve.

Steve cleared his throat and stepped in, changing the subject with a smirk. “Her, huh?” He nudged Bucky’s shoulder. “Who would have thought, right? You owe me, punk.”

Bucky groaned. “Shut it, Steve. You almost ruined everything.”

Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “There wasn’t anything to ruin before I set you two up, jerk.”

Bucky muttered something under his breath and ran a hand through his hair.

Natasha, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m gonna need some details.”

----

That so-called intervention quickly spiraled into something else entirely, and he couldn't even pinpoint the exact moment he'd walked into their damn trap. One second, he was deflecting, the next, he was somehow agreeing to a casual get-together at the Tower so they could meet her.

And vice versa.

It had to be while Thomas was at kindergarten, Clint had insisted, because, well, she was his naughty nanny.

“I told you not to call her that!” Bucky had snapped, throwing a half-hearted punch at Clint’s shoulder.

----

That afternoon, when he got home, the irritation from their relentless teasing melted away as soon as he stepped through the door.

She and Thomas were at the coffee table, surrounded by a mess of paper scraps, glue sticks, and colorful cutouts. She was laughing softly as Thomas showed off a questionable-looking collage, waving a star-shaped paper cutter in the air like it was some great artistic tool.

Bucky leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching them for a moment. He finally broke the silence, eyeing the scattered paper cutters warily. “Should I be worried about all the sharp objects?”

She arched a brow, unimpressed. “You are the least qualified person in this house to comment on sharp objects.”

Before he could fire back, Thomas shoved a moon-shaped cutter into her hands. “Sweetheart, do more of these!”

Bucky blinked, zeroing his gaze on the kid. “Where did that come from?”

She winced, giving him an apologetic grimace.

“She bought it for me,” Thomas explained, waving the cutter.

“No, kiddo… why did you call her that?” Bucky corrected, feeling a sudden need to sit down. “You can’t just-”

“But you call her that all the time,” Thomas interrupted, as if Bucky were the one saying something ridiculous.

Damn.

Bucky opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Because… it’s a name only adults use with each other.”

Thomas squinted. “You never call that to Uncle Steve or Uncle Clint.”

“Because Uncle Steve- because he-” Bucky scrambled, searching for an out.

Thomas just stared, waiting.

Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Because he ain’t my sweetheart, that’s why.”

“Why?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, already regretting this conversation. “Because Uncle Steve and Uncle Clint are my friends.”

Thomas frowned. “But Daddy! She’s your friend too! Not just Uncle Steve and Uncle-”

“Alright, alright,” he cut in, hands raised in surrender. “She’s just... another kind of friend.”

Thomas tilted his head, considering. “Better than best friend?”

Bucky’s throat went dry. It was time to man up and find out if this was going to be fine, or if his heart was about to get wrecked.

He shifted his weight, glancing briefly at her before looking back at Thomas. “Kiddo, what would you say if I told you she’s my girlfriend?”

Thomas barely blinked before shrugging. “Oh, I know that.”

Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed. He and she exchanged a look, hers somewhere between amusement and curiosity, and his caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to panic.

“How- why do you know?” Bucky finally asked, trying not to sound as floored as he felt. His brain attempted to reboot from the emotional haymaker he’d just been dealt. Beside him, she bit back a laugh, clearly failing, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide with amusement.

Thomas, completely unbothered, went on in that matter-of-fact tone only small children and truth-tellers dared to wield.

“Because you touch her,” he said, waving a glue-covered hand like it was obvious. “Like, a lot. And you don’t touch other people, Daddy.”

Bucky blinked. “That’s... fair.”

“And you smile a lot to her,” Thomas added, glancing up from the glittery moon he was carefully pasting to the paper. “And the other day, Flora told me her mommy saw you kissing in the street.”

Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Damn Flora,” he muttered. Then, remembering himself, “-not Flora, just-” her mommy. Damn Flora’s mommy.”

She stifled a snort beside him.

Thomas wasn’t done. “Also, I saw you too.”

Bucky’s heart stopped. “W–where?” he asked, hearing his voice going thin with panic. What had he seen? God, one of those ‘quick moments’ in the kitchen when he thought Thomas was in the bathroom too long-

“At the building’s entrance,” Thomas said, not even looking up. “I always see you through the window. You kiss when she leaves.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, slumping his shoulders in relief. Thank God. He covered it with a gruff cough and tried not to look like he just dodged a missile.

“That’s... alright,” he said, eyes flicking to her with a sheepish smile.

“See?” Thomas said proudly, like he’d just solved a puzzle. “I already knew she was your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, buddy. She is,” he stated gently. “And… and what do you think about it?”

Thomas didn’t even look up from his crooked glittery sun. “It’s cool,” the boy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because I like her a lot.”

Bucky’s heart gave a relieved little thud. But then-

“And if you get married…” Thomas’s voice dropped, hesitant now, uncertain. His small eyes flicked sideways, landing shyly on her. “She’s going to be my mom.”

Silence fell for a moment, thick.

Bucky’s throat worked, but no words came out. That hit deeper than anything had in a long time.

Thomas didn’t talk much about his mom, and hadn’t asked many questions since they'd started building this life together. Bucky had told him the basics. That she was in heaven. That she’d loved him very much. What else could he have said?

But this -this little wish- was something else. It carved a sharp line through his chest. Thomas needed more than a father who kept his ghosts locked in the back of his mind. He needed comfort. Nurturing. Things Bucky gave the best he could, but… the truth was, he didn’t know if it had ever been enough. Not all the way.

And it wasn’t fair to her either. Their relationship was still new, still tender. Too early for this kind of pressure, this kind of longing to be dropped at her feet.

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around the little boy, pulling him gently into her chest. She kissed the top of his head and held him there, just letting him be safe, for a moment, in the circle of her arms.

Bucky watched it happen with a tight ache in his chest. The sight of his son cradled against the woman he cared for, with her eyes closed as she held him, was almost too much.

He looked away, blinking hard. Then cleared his throat.

“You want to order pizza tonight, buddy?” he asked, his voice a little rough but stable. “We can eat, the three of us.”

Thomas looked up from her embrace, and his face lit up instantly. “Yeah!”

Then, with all the gravity of a very important host, he turned to her. “If you want to stay longer.”

She smiled, and her heart caught a little at how hopeful he sounded. “I’d love to.”

Thomas nodded like that settled the matter, then went right back to picking glitter out of his glue-covered fingers.

----

Eventually, with all the shapes cut and only the final collage touches left, Bucky slid a look her way and tilted his head toward the kitchen. She caught the silent invitation and followed, wiping her hands on a napkin.

Once they were out of earshot, he leaned close. “Hey, I- uh. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, really… but maybe I’ve been ambushed into accepting a meet-up with the guys.”

Her brow lifted. “With Steve and the others?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They kind of want to meet the person who apparently made me less-” He winced slightly, then pushed on, flicking his eyes to hers. “The person who makes me happy.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. His cheeks flushed pink under the kitchen light, and she felt her stomach flutter at how soft he looked at that moment. Tall, scarred, hardened Bucky Barnes, suddenly unsure.

Her voice was gentle. “Did they really ambush you?”

“It was brutal, they attacked me as a pack,” he said dryly.

She chuckled and touched his hand lightly. “Then I guess I better make a good impression.”

“You will,” he said, already certain.

----

So here they were, the two of them stepping into the compound on a Friday just past noon, walking straight into what had been dubbed a casual lunch.

A casual lunch with the fucking Avengers.

She tried not to fidget, though her nerves had her fingers twitching against the strap of her bag. Sure, she had met Sam and Clint briefly at the kindergarten event, and Steve when he came to pick up Thomas when Bucky couldn’t, and during that very questionable not-a-set-up hiring. But this? This was different.

These were her boyfriend’s friends. His team. People who’d gone to war together, and who’d known him through all the complicated layers he tried so hard to keep from the world. Super soldiers. Ex-spies. God-tier chaos agents.

What if they thought she was boring? What if they thought she didn’t belong? What if-

"For fuck’s sake, man, stop eating all the damn chips! I already refilled that thing twice!" someone shouted, clearly audible even from down the hallway.

"Hey! Gimme that!" came Clint’s unmistakable squawk in response.

Bucky just pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled through it, like this was a common occurrence. It probably was. He kept his other hand pressed against the small of her back as they walked toward the chaos masquerading as lunch.

As they reached the sleek, modern-furnished dining area, the chatter died down, and suddenly, every set of eyes in the room was on her.

Oh, God.

She swallowed. “Um… h-hi.”

----

She had to admit… this was not how she imagined them to be.

On TV, in interviews, and even in all those articles dissecting their every move, they always appeared so composed. Imposing. Untouchable. Like living legends.

But in reality?

They were a family. A very dysfunctional, loud, and chaotic one.

Sam and Clint had somehow turned lunch into a competition over who could make the worst hamburger, with Steve acting as the referee. Natasha, who she had expected to be distant -intimidating, even- was currently stealing fries from everyone’s plates with an expression so impassive that no one dared to call her out.

And then there was Bucky. Sitting next to her, subtly keeping her close, idly tracing circles against her thigh with his fingers beneath the table. Like he could sense every flicker of tension in her muscles.

“So-” Natasha drawled, in a far too casual to be innocent tone, as she perched against the edge of the table, plucking another fry from Clint’s plate with surgical precision. “We have a very vague idea, but how exactly did you two meet?”

She tilted her head, smirking, while Clint sighed dramatically and gave up on defending his lunch.

“Well, I was… Thomas’ teacher,” she said, smiling a little as she glanced at Bucky. “So, we met at the kindergarten.”

“He asked me for a dress shirt, you know?” Steve piped up suddenly, muffled behind a huge bite of his burger. “For your first interview?” He added quickly, ducking just in time to avoid the death glare Bucky shot him.

“Aww, Buck,” Sam teased, grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat. “You got it bad from day one.”

Bucky scowled. “I wasn’t- I thought I had to dress formally for a teacher-parent meeting. It’s not my fault things changed that much.”

“Well,” she cut in with a soft laugh, “if it makes you feel better, you looked so handsome that day. I felt completely underdressed and had to remind myself to be professional and not just… keep staring at you.”

Bucky blinked, caught off guard. “…R-really?”

She nodded, biting back a more obvious smile. “Yeah.”

Before anyone else could tease him into a full-on blush, Natasha steered the conversation expertly. “Anyway,” she said, casually kicking her feet against the table. “We do know that Captain Rogers here set you up for the nanny job. But when did you actually start dating? How did he propose?”

The table went silent for half a beat. Even Steve lowered his burger again, turning his curious eyes toward the couple.

Bucky exhaled and dragged a hand down his face, already bracing himself for the incoming storm of teasing. “Um… I kind of didn’t,” he admitted, flicking his eyes toward her with a helpless shrug.

She turned to the group with a small smile. “I did.”

“What?” Sam leaned forward with a loud laugh. “You asked him?”

She tilted her head, lips twitching like she was holding back laughter. “Yeah. I did,” she confirmed, stealing a sip from her drink.

Sam let out a bark of laughter, slapping the table

Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples. “Can we not-”

“I mean, come on,” Clint cut in. “How does that even happen?”

She hummed, feigning deep thought. “Well… there was an elevator involved. Then a couch. Then the kitchen counter.”

A collective groan erupted around the table.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes,” Natasha muttered, shaking her head.

Sam clutched his chest dramatically. “Not the counter, people eat there!”

“You’ve all done worse things in here,” Bucky muttered darkly.

“Yeah, but we weren’t all repressed as hell before it happened,” Clint shot back.

Steve, watching the scene unfold with barely restrained amusement, leaned forward. “So let me get this straight,” he said, directing the question at her. “After finally getting him to make a move, you were the one who asked him out?”

She grinned. “Yeah.”

Bucky just grumbled something under his breath, but his hand still found hers under the table, curling his fingers around hers.

----

They slipped out of the common room once everyone was distracted arguing over dessert. Steve insisting on pie, Clint on ice cream, and Sam advocating for both. Bucky led her down a quieter hallway, with their fingers still loosely linked. He stopped at a small balcony overlooking the city skyline. Needed a breather?” she asked, leaning on the railing.

“Yeah.” He exhaled through his nose, bracing his hands beside hers. “They’re a lot.”

“They are.” She smiled gently. “But they love you, and they are happy for you. That much is clear.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared ahead, with his jaw tight like he was wrestling with the words.

Then, slowly, like the words weighed more than he could carry, Bucky spoke, “I never thought I’d ever have this.” He looked at her, raw and exposed. “Someone who could still want me, knowing… everything.”

His throat closed. Even now, saying it out loud felt impossible, like naming the damage might make her reconsider.

She turned toward him, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “You’re a good man, Bucky. Attentive. Caring. A great dad. And let’s not forget the ‘handsome as hell’ part. Who wouldn’t want you?”

He huffed a low laugh, dropping his gaze. “I still think you’re crazy for choosing me.”

“Well, I am crazy,” she replied with a teasing smile. “Crazy about you.”

Then she kissed his cheek, soft and warm and a little smug. “Look at that. You’ve got me saying cheesy stuff I’d normally cringe at if I heard it from someone else.”

That earned her one of his rare, softer grins, the kind that still felt new like he hadn’t quite gotten used to letting it happen. He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, gliding his hands to her waist, pulling her close.

She curled her fingers into the hem of his shirt.

“I don’t know how I lived before you.” He murmured.

“Grumpy and brooding,” she teased gently.

“Still am,” he smirked.

She shrugged. “Yeah, but now you’re my grumpy and brooding.”

He laughed under his breath, then pulled her close, chest to chest, snugging his arms around her like he was afraid she’d slip away if he didn’t hold on.

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing the same air, with her hands gently rubbing up and down his back. He closed his eyes.

It crept up on him, memories he usually kept buried under steel and silence. Cold tiles beneath his spine. Straps digging into his flesh. The weight of decades that had stolen everything soft from him.

He didn’t mean to tighten his grip, but he did, holding her just a little closer, basking in the warmth of her body, and the beat of her heart. She just pressed a kiss to his jaw and wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders.

He let out a shaky breath, brushing his lips against hers, not with hunger this time, but with reverence. A silent thank-you for everything she was giving him just by staying.

He didn’t pull back, just stayed there with their foreheads touching. The moment stretched, soft, and he wished he could press himself into it and stay there forever.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “Sometimes I just get… hit with stuff.”

She didn’t ask what kind of stuff. She didn’t need to.

His fingers skimmed the curve of her back, needing to feel her warmth under his hands. He wasn’t in a lab anymore, or some holding cell with his mind half-shattered and a muzzle over his mouth. He was here. With her.

She gave a small hum, tracing lazy shapes across the back of his neck, patiently. No pressure to speak. No need to explain.

He cleared his throat softly, feeling the weight in his chest lifting enough to let a breath out. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s see if those vultures decided on dessert.”

She chuckled against his shoulder, sliding her hand into his as they turned back to go inside. Then she grinned, bumping her hip gently into his. “I don’t know… I might skip dessert.”

He raised a brow, side-eyeing her with mock suspicion. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” She tiptoed just enough to brush her lips near his ear, teasing. “I already know what I want later.”

Bucky choked on a breath, and his steps faltered just for a second. She was already walking ahead, with her hand still nestled in his. The picture of innocence.

He caught up, with a soft laugh and a look that promised payback.

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[crustyfloor]

A new pop-up store dropped for ALIEN STAGE's 2nd anniversary and wow. It's so sick.

It's Interesting what exactly these experiments are focusing on and monitoring.

Instrument practice

I found it interesting earlier that Till was so tame, more so than he usually is when he's going through experiments, but music, and making music is what he loves doing, So he was fully in his element here. This was probably the only thing he was made to do by the aliens that he at least tolerated.

(Additionally, judging by his collar (orange), he was at least calm. maybe he just isn't fazed anymore.)

//Side note, that head contraption looks familiar BUT this most likely isn't related at least i hope

(It puts me at ease, at least..)

Dance practice

This surprised me, but I suppose Mizi needed more skills.

She looks very startled here, and nervous(?) +It looks like she's doing this while singing. And with that face covering I assume this was a test monitoring her dance balance, precision, etc. At first, I did think it was odd, "Why would Shine put her through that" But alas I was reminded that even though Mizi is the flower of the group she was never untouchable, to Shine, this was the equivalent of teaching your dog to sit and stay.

(seeing this it reminded me of those scenes in movies where the people are dancing, and the music gets faster and faster until they fall. I wonder if she was doing through something similar to that)

Singing practice (?)

Similar to Till she also looks quite calm outwardly, if the machine around her neck is an iteration of the collars they have, then this process wasn't something she liked, or given how intense this experiment looks, this was a test of high-pressure to ensure she always stayed calm during performances (?). Then again this could also be a posture practice given all the structure focused on maintaining her position.

(What I believe was another form of this test was shown before so I think so)

(With her hands in a praying stance I wonder if she was praying to herself or singing a religious song (sweet dream?) It's also interesting that the machinery around her looks like a halo, and she looks so...angelic? holy?)

Image making practice

By image making, I think they made Ivan replicate expressions with his face. Whether this process was painful for him or not...I'm not sure. But it looked visibly uncomfortable, maybe that was the point. (His expression, even in this circumstance is so dubious..)

Ivan, among other things, needed to have a spotless appearance to be successful, his image was a priority given his skills were certainly guaranteed.

I assume the aliens eventually took note of his lack of expression, in the real world this can be a detriment to one's career, so the Aliens had to ensure quality was perfect. (To a more...dedicated level)

Superiority test

'Superiority test' Is very vague.

HyunA is very calm here too, likely sedated in that water with all the tablets on her. I guess this was a test to get an idea of a pet human's strengths and weaknesses, endurance, and temperament to compare and contrast them with others, testing who is more viable for Alien stage?

Another interesting, and sad part about this is that HyunWoo was there, watching his sister through her experiments.

(Also, it looks like both of her legs are normal, no alien leg yet.)

Heart rate variability

And finally, the most visceral of them all. The wording 'variability' makes this all the more sickening, the Aliens were testing his heart hours, testing it at different rates, speeds, and states. And he was in agony the entire time. Even the way he's clutching his chest, it gives me chills. This would've been a completely harmless test in a normal setting, as something quite similar to this can be performed efficiently in real life. But he's being tortured in the process.

This is one of the first times we've ever seen Luka's face so truly clear and unprotected, (understandably so.) He's even crying.