#Might make some for the other characters but we’ll see

[fablesam]

picture you ;; sam winchester (part two)

cw;; smut!!!! bloodplay, biting, demon blood, violence, angst, dark!!! sam

a mere week after your first meeting, you and sam had learned each other in and out. you’d, more importantly, learned the solution to your overarching question. the two of you had worked tirelessly to find the truth about your abilities, if your theory was correct about demon blood increasing your power. 

you could see sam starting to slightly spiral, hardly sleeping, his desperation growing with each step you took in the right direction. he’d told dean he met someone, and that he wanted some space, a chance to ‘do his own thing’ for a while. this was, judging by dean’s reaction, incredibly out of character for him, but you didn’t argue. it was what you’d always wanted, the two of you alone in your apartment, totally invested in each other. 

you were sat on the edge of your bed, brushing your hair after a shower when sam entered your room, a borderline manic excitement in his eyes. “i figured it out,” he told you, pacing as he read from his journal. “we can summon a demon here, trap it in a devil’s circle. then we can extract some of its blood, store it to drink from, and send it back to hell. it’s the safest way, it’ll make sure you don’t get hurt,” 

you felt a pang of  sadness that he wasn’t even worried about himself getting hurt, but it was overshadowed by the happiness you felt that he’d considered you in his plan. “summoning a demon seems a bit extreme,” you said after a moments contemplation, “are you sure about this, sam? i don’t want to do anything we can’t take back,” 

he came to your side, dropping the journal beside you, taking both your hands in his and looking down at you. “this is what you wanted,” he said pleadingly, “don’t you want to see what we’re capable of? let me show you,” he pressed a brief, searing kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours, “we could be so much more, just like you said. you showed me the truth, so let me show you the way,” 

you nodded, lost in the trance of his soft brown eyes, swept up in the feeling of his hands on yours. he could’ve told you to do anything in that moment, and you were sure you would’ve. you were, not for the first time, grateful that sam was so good at his core. if he’d wanted to, you feared he could’ve had anyone submit to him, had anyone do his bidding. but if you knew sam, and you definitely did, he would never. 

he was all the goodness in the world, wrapped up in your own personal daydream. sometimes, it seemed impossible that such a shining example of purity had demon blood running through his veins, the same as you. he always had your best interest at heart, always worried what the consequences of this journey would come to, always thought about how this might affect dean. it only made you love him even more. 

“we’ll do it tomorrow,” he told you, sure as anything, “is that alright? are you ready?” you pulled him down to you, so you could rest your head on his chest from your seat on the bed, breathing in the scent of him. it never got old, the smell of chai and cedar and rain. “i’m ready,” you mumbled into his shirt, eyes closing as he stroked the back of your hair lightly, a contentedness you’d never known flowing through you, “are you scared?”

you didn’t have to look up to no he shook his head, “no, i’m not scared,” he murmured, “i guess i’m just curious. it feels wrong, still, but i know i’ve just been conditioned to feel that way. we shouldn’t be ashamed of anything,” “that’s right,” you hummed, “should we get some sleep?” 

he nodded, untangling from you, kissing the top of your head gently before going to the couch, where he’d insisted on sleeping the entire week. he’d been so adamant about not moving too fast, not taking advantage of you. it had only solidified your belief that sam was, inherently, better than you. you watched him go, tucking yourself under the blankets, ignoring the worry forming in your stomach. 

when you woke in the morning, sam was already well at work, clambering around your living room holding objects you’d never even seen before. “sam?” you yawned quietly, “what’re you doing? what is all this?” he turned to face you, as if he’d been caught, “just some things for the summoning. i have it all ready, i think, i just have to arrange everything,” 

you paused to actually look around, noting the taper candles lit on your floor, the encircled star scribbled onto your ceiling. “what is that?” you asked, unable to tear your eyes from it. “devils trap,” he said like it was the most natural thing in the world, “i’ll have to say an incantation to summon it, and we need to get it under that circle, okay? i just need you to stay back, i’ll take care of everything,” 

you forced yourself away from the setup, nodding, “and you’re sure about all this?” you asked hesitantly, “i mean, really sure?” he smiled slightly, nodding, “i’m positive. you know i wouldn’t do anything dangerous, right?” “of course, sam,” and you really did know that. you trusted him more than you trusted even yourself, for in some ways, he was more yourself than you were. 

he pulled you into a hug, his chin resting against your head, his arms circling you. “everything’s gonna be fine,” he said softly, “can you go in your bedroom for me? don’t want you to have to see this,” you pulled back just enough to look up at him, pupils dilated from his closeness, “wanna help you,” you said surely, “this isn’t your task, sam. it’s ours,” 

so you watched as sam paced the room, journal in hand as it had been the night prior, the candlelight making him look more angelic than usual. he’d cut a small incision on his wrist, letting the blood drip out into a copper bowl, placing it in the middle of the circle before he started reading. 

the energy in the room was palpable, an uneasiness spread through your apartment that you hoped would clear up soon, when all this was done. “daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae!” he finished, and with that, the candles were out, an eerie stillness in the room. you looked to sam, eyes wide, when you saw it out of the corner of your eye. 

not so much an it as it was a fully fledged man, looking as human as you or sam, adding to your already heightening sickness. “sam winchester,” the thing said, “if you wanted me here, all you had to do was ask,” the voice was so painfully real, so clear, so human, your bones ached with the chill that came over you.

sam’s jaw tensed, and he took a step closer to it, so precise and calculated you didn’t even notice as he succeeded in his plan, backing it under the devil’s trap. “finally giving in?” it sneered, “gonna come home, sammy?” his eye twitched at this, and you thought for a moment his focus might break, but it only seemed to get more intense. 

“don’t call me that,” he snapped slightly, hands trembling, “i need you for one thing, and that’s it. then i’m sending you back where you belong,” “oh, i’m cowering in fear,” the demon said sarcastically, turning to take a step towards sam, but seemingly stopped by an invisible force. he looked up, irritation clear on his face as he discovered the trap, his jaw nearly as tense as sam’s. “so what’s your angle here, boy?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, “gonna kill me, hm?” 

“not gonna kill you,” sam took a step closer, the knife in his hand catching the light streaming through your window, “just hurt you,” you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he slashed the thing’s wrist, an animalistic howl leaving it’s mouth. sam looked to you, and without any words passed between you, you knew he needed the bowl. you hurried to his side, handing him the copper bowl he’d used to summon the demon, watching, entranced, as he let the thing’s wound trickle into it. your pulse increased with every drip-drop of the thick blood, your mouth watering in a way that almost horrified you. 

you had to resist the urge to surge forward, to take what your body so clearly craved, more concerned with obeying sam’s request than you were with drinking from the source. when the bowl was filled, you watched with a distant fascination as sam read more from his beat up journal, and the only evidence that the demon had ever been there was the ichor on sam’s hands. 

“are you alright?” were the first words that left his mouth, as if he hadn’t just summoned and dispelled a demon right in your living room, as if this was all completely normal. “i’m fine,” you nodded, eyes still focused on the bowl of blood in his right hand, “are you alright?” a small smile crossed his lips, and he nodded, “i’m fine, sweet girl,” he led you back a few steps, free hand on your lower back as he guided you to sit on your couch. 

you sat down, looking up at him with expectant eyes, “do we drink now?” he reached down, his left hand resting on your cheek lightly, cradling your face, “you’re so desperate, aren’t you? so brave,” he hummed, his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip, “open your mouth, alright? if you start to feel anything that scares you, you tell me. can you do that?” 

you nodded, feeling almost dizzy as he instructed you, anticipation making you giddy and electric, “i can do that,” you said softly. “that’s my girl,” he smiled softly, hand shifting to your jaw as he brought the bowl to your mouth, resting it between your lips. you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before opening your mouth, letting the blood trickle onto your tongue. 

the very second it hit your bloodstream, you were on fire. a soft sound, almost a moan, left your throat as you opened your eyes, enjoying drinking in the sight of sam watching you almost as much as you were drinking the blood. “is it good?” he murmured, looking as blissful as you felt, “do you feel good, sweet girl?” you just nodded, too drunk on the venom to respond, and a whine of protest left you as he pulled the bowl away slowly, as if he was tapering you off of it. 

“sam,” you panted softly, “god, it feels-” you stopped, unable to even describe it, to even do it justice. it felt like you had been in a coffin for a decade, like you were finally free, like someone brought you back to life after years. it felt like heaven and hell had collided inside you, like you were a vessel to something far greater, like everything you’d ever gone through had led you do this very moment. you watched as sam drank from the bowl, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, a groan muffled by the liquid. he was messier than you had been, scarlet drops down his throat, and when he pulled the bowl away, you nearly whimpered at the way it shined on his lips, the pink skin tined a deep red.

 you thought he’d never been more beautiful than when he smiled down at you, his teeth tinted pink. “oh,” the sound was almost too much for you to bear, the breathless whine that left his throat, “this is everything,” “sam,” you whispered, afraid if you spoke fully, you might cry from the intensity, “it’s so much,” 

“oh, i know,” he murmured, his hand returning to your jaw, the other tracing through your hair gently. you were slightly startled by how much better he seemed to be handling it, but you were entirely too far gone to worry over the implications, “you’re gonna be just fine, baby. this is how we’re meant to feel,” 

before you had time to question it, or too even think twice about his statement, he was pulling you up, his lips on yours in an instant. you kissed him back with a fever, your hands coming to wrap around his shoulders, all six foot four of him being pulled even closer to you. he turned, never pulling his mouth from yours as he sank into the couch cushions, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing. 

your entire body was alert, your back arched into his touch, his hands trailing over every inch of your skin. “you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled as he pulled away, trailing kisses down your jawline, biting gently at the delicate skin of your throat, “so fucking perfect,”

you knew logically this couldn’t be heaven as you tilted your head to give him more access, blinking up at the devils trap still on your ceiling, but it didn’t make you believe it any less. nothing between you was holy, you knew that. this was something else entirely, each kiss and mumbled curse awakening some sort of ancient, dangerous power inside you. you could swear you felt the earth shift as he rolled you over, laying you back on the couch, kissing down your chest like a man possessed. 

your hands were in his hair, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked down at him with heavy lids and glossy eyes, “want you so badly, sam,” you murmured, “come kiss me again,” he smiled up at you, looking deceivingly soft for just a moment, reminding you of the first few visions, “i’ll come kiss you again, you impatient girl,” he scolded, a soft tease in his voice, “just busy right now,” 

he pulled your pants with him the lower his kisses trailed, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps along your hips and thighs, “you want me here?” he hummed, pressing his fingertips to the now soaked cotton of your underwear. you nodded almost frantically, too worked up to be embarrassed by your neediness. he smiled against the skin of your thighs as he pulled the material off of you, tossing them into the floor without a second glance. 

no, neither of you were holy, but you could’ve died and gone to heaven or hell with sam’s mouth on you, wasting no time before he was lapping you up just as he had the blood. he groaned against you, his hands digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. 

“sam,” you moaned, back arching off the cushions, your hands pulling at his hair desperately. you weren’t even sure what you were begging for, too far gone from the feeling of him paired with the newfound power coursing through your veins. he pulled away just long enough to readjust his arms, continuing to lap at your clit as he sank two fingers inside of you, curling them just where you needed him. “oh, god, sam,” you whimpered, your nails scratching at his scalp. he pulled back, gazing up at you with your wetness coating his lips, “god’s not here, baby,” he tsked, “it’s just me and you,” 

your eyes rolled back when he took your clit into his mouth, sucking and licking a long stripe against you. the feeling of his fingers stretching you out and his devilishly skilled tongue was enough to have you coming undone, his name falling from your lips like some desolate prayer as you rocked your hips against his face, all but grinding on him as you rode out your high. 

he pulled his fingers out slowly, holding eye contact from between your thighs as he took them into his mouth, taking his time sucking them clean. you could’ve come again from the mere sight of it, from the idea of him savoring the taste. he crawled back up to you, kissing you hard enough to make you dizzy for a moment, the lingering taste of the blood combined with the taste of you making you moan into his mouth. 

he reached between you, pushing down his jeans and boxers with one hand, the other holding him up as he kissed you. “you want me to fuck you like this?” he murmured as he kissed your cheek, such a soft movement in the frenzy of need, “or you wanna ride me, hm?” 

the desire to see his face, to watch him underneath you as he came, had you pushing his chest gently, pushing him back to sit down. he grinned up at you, his eyes hazy, hands settling onto your hips as you moved to straddle him. you reached between you, taking him in your hand, barely able to wrap your fingers around the width of him as you pumped him slowly. 

his eyebrows knit in pleasure, his head tipping back onto the back of the sofa, his breaths growing heavier. seeing him like this, coming unraveled from your touch, made whatever sickness you both had so incredibly worth it. you rested one hand on his chest as you slid down onto his thick cock, kissing him to hold in your gasp at how much he stretched you. 

he bit your bottom lip as he kissed you, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips as he bucked his hips into you, moaning into your open mouth. he licked the blood from your lip, sucking it into his mouth, holding you there as he fucked up into you. you were a mess above him, your head thrown back as you rode him, grinding your hips down for some friction. 

“you feel so fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely, pulling your head down to his neck, wrapping an arm around you to hold you, “like you were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” “i was,” you pant against his skin, sucking little marks down his neck, “yours, sam,” 

“i know you’re mine,” he mumbled, thrusting into your harder, pulling your hair just hard enough to make you look at him as he fucked you stupid. his lips found their way to your neck, biting gently, and you whined softly as he broke skin just slightly, enough to send a tinge of pain to the surface.

“got that demon’s blood pumping through these veins,” he placed another soft bite just above your shoulder, “bet i’d get stronger drinkin’ from you, baby. you think so?” you just nodded, too far gone to process his words as your hips rolled against his, gasping as he reached an even deeper spot inside you, “you wanna make me stronger, don’t you?” he hummed. 

“yes!” you moaned, clenching around him, “yes, sam, fuck,” he smiled against you, thrusting into you harder, his movements slowing. he gave you no warning as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the feeling. “fuck,” he groaned into the bite, his tongue laving at the blood trickling out, “you taste so good, sweet girl,” 

you could feel yourself getting dizzier as he pulled the blood from you, your entire body buzzing with alarm. “sam,” you whimpered, your hips slowing against his, “too much,” he pulled away, despite the frenzied look in his eye, pressing a gentle kiss to the area around his bite mark. “blood tastes almost as good as that pussy,” he mumbled as he pulled you into a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck as he quickened his movements. 

your thighs were trembling, vision swimming as you came undone a second time, nearly screaming as he fucked you through it. “good fuckin’ girl,” he panted, digging his hands into your thighs, “so close, baby,” you rested your head on his shoulder, bouncing your hips just enough to get him to the edge, looking up only to watch his expression as he filled you. “oh, fuck,” he groaned, his brows pinched, cheeks pink and mouth tipped open, his thrusts slowing. you kissed him as he stilled inside you, tracing your fingertips down his arm, anything to keep touching him as much as possible. 

he pet your hair gently, fingers running through the length of it, tenderness lacing his every moment. “is your shoulder alright?” he asked softly, trailing his free hand over the skin. “mhm,” you nodded, still catching your breath, “i’m fine, sam. was so good,” “yeah?” he smiled slightly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, pulling you into his chest, “get some sleep, baby. you look like you’re about to crash,” 

you just hummed quietly in response, nuzzling your face into his neck. the events of the day replayed in your fizzled brain, skin still tingling with the effects of the blood, your body aching. sam continued to stroke your hair soothingly, his other hand tracing down your spine almost absentmindedly. “gonna keep you here with me forever,” he said softly, almost too quiet for you to hear, “we’re gonna be so fucking strong, baby. you have no idea,” 

you let sleep take you before you could question the tone in his voice, the darkness creeping into his tone. after all, you were the one who put it there.

[ask-an-unusual-duo]

Emotes!or is it portraits?idk-

Here are some Blake emotes that I finished,will make emotes for Corrie as well once I finish Blake’s emotes

[mabaris]

that stupid comicbook.com article and also fan response in general to the companion romance situation annoys me so bad for the sole reason that everyone acts like the only people in the game are the pc and playable companions

[yanderenightmare]

TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

fem reader

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[sakurapika]

A (possibly) helpful guide to the Nikki-verse for Infinity Nikki Players

Although it’s not at all necessary to know the lore of the previous games (Love Nikki, Shining Nikki), here is some info that you might benefit from if you’re joining the fandom with Infinity Nikki!

❄️General Info:

Love Nikki, Shining Nikki, and Infinity Nikki are all stand-alone games with self-contained stories, but they have some commonalities that I will get into later.

Love Nikki has a 2D art style, and is where many of us "veteran" players began our journey. Shining Nikki has both 2D and 3D art. Both of these games are stunning, so check them out!

Before Love Nikki, there were two other dress-up games in this series that did not involve being transported into a magical world. However, these games are less well-known (kind of like the earlier Persona games, haha…), and not much is known about them, especially to international fans.

The developers of the game are Chinese, so expect to get a lot of goodies around Lunar New Year and other major Chinese holidays!

According to Shining Nikki, our main character is around 19 years old and went to college before getting transported to Miraland. Her birthday is December 6, which is why Infinity Nikki came out last week and why we got a free outfit (we’ll get a new one every year!)

Nikki's Chinese name is Nuan Nuan, how cute!

Momo claims he’s not a cat, but a member of the “Momo Clan” (Love Nikki). He was a little annoying in Love Nikki, but he’s more endearing in later games.

Nikki and Momo are the only recurring characters in the franchise.

If you keep hearing names like "Kimi" and "Nidhogg," these are characters from Love Nikki.

Kimi is the closest character we have to a canon love interest for Nikki, so many of us are hoping to see her again.

I can't say much about Nidhogg without spoiling LN, but at least you now know where the name is from.

In Love Nikki, there is a "blood curse" that prevents people from using violence. Therefore, people often resolve conflicts by entering styling battles and destroying each other with the power of a good outfit! I can't remember if this rule carries onto Shining Nikki (the prequel of Love Nikki, though it came out after), but that's basically why all battle mechanics are related to dressing up.

The biggest advice I can give as a veteran is: Don't bother with trying to make a visually cohesive outfit for styling battles unless you have a lot of clothing. We've all tried it. It won't work. For now, just layer on everything that has high stats. You're always free to wear your fashionable outfits during regular gameplay.

❄️Worldbuilding

The world that Nikki has been transported into is called Miraland.

Miraland is composed of seven kingdoms, each with their own distinct fashion style. That means that if you do not like the style of clothes we’ve been seeing so far in Infinity Nikki, do not worry! They’ll have everything eventually.

For some reason, they changed the names of the countries in Infinity Nikki, and I’m not sure why (I’m going to keep mixing them up…). Below, I’ve listed their LN/SN names first, and their Infinity Nikki names second.

The seven kingdoms are:

🎀Lilith/Ninir/Heartcraft Kingdom: In the older games, it was known mostly for fairytale-inspired clothing and lolita fashion, with the occasional “pastoral” suit. It looks like Heartcraft Kingdom in Infinity Nikki has been leaning more into the pastoral aesthetic, but Nonoy’s outfit seems to be in the lolita style. Also, the suits we have been crafting so far for catching bugs and petting the animals is at least lolita-inspired. (People who wear lolita fashion, please correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the Chinese version of this fashion is a lot more loose with the rules than the Japanese version I am more familiar with). This kingdom is always the first to be introduced in these games. Expect drama to follow whenever we get introduced to the royal family of this kingdom…it always happens.

🐉Cloud Empire/Lanling Empire: Known for traditional and modern Asian fashion. A vast majority of the fashions are going to be inspired by Chinese fashion, so if you’re a fan of period dramas or xianxia, you’re in luck! Aside from hanfu and qipao, they also usually have several kimono and the occasional hanbok. (Due to some controversies in Shining Nikki relating to conflicts between China and Korea, however, I’m not sure if the developers will continue to add hanbok in future games). Love Nikki also included some outfits for Chinese ethnic minorities like the Miao, Indonesian-inspired clothing, and Vietnamese ao dai if I remember correctly. All games also have at least one Peking Opera costume—it’s like an industry staple. However, unfortunately, Southeast Asian representation is usually sparse. Overall, Cloud Empire is usually the second kingdom to be introduced in the game, so I’m sure we’ll see it in an update around Lunar New Year. Maybe we’ll go along with Tan Youyou, depending on how the story will go.

👠Apple Federation/Starhail Federation: Known for streetwear, high fashion, and casual clothing (like what you’d wear on an average day). I think Dada and Bebe’s outfits would be classified as Apple, even though they live in Heartcraft. Unlike the rural towns we have seen so far, Apple tends to be a very urban, city-based environment, filled with spies and shady businessmen. (This is also the country where Kimi, Nikki’s girlfriend in LN is from).

👑Pigeon Kingdom/Twinmoon Kingdom: Known for European fashions, including fairy costumes, witch/sorcerer outfits, Rococo dresses (with long skirts, compared to the lolita style in Lilith/Ninir/Heartcraft), and anything else you’d expect to see in a Western fantasy or period drama. Funnily enough, there is always at least one scene in the Pigeon Kingdom that has to do with a cathedral, so expect some fashions with gothic and Catholic-inspired imagery as well. Some of the inhabitants who live there are elves and fairies, like the one who makes cosmetics (I keep forgetting her name…). Although most of the ability outfits we have so far look like they're from Lilith/Ninir/Heartcraft, the "purification" outfit strikes me as something more typical of Pigeon.

⚔️North Kingdom/Empire of Light: A cold country best known for winter clothing—heavy scarves, overcoats, and hats—as well as military attire. There is also at least one "ice queen" style suit in every game. If I recall correctly, this kingdom has been having civil wars since Love Nikki, so expect a lot of action in this area.

🐪Wasteland/Terra Alliance: The original name of this country sparked a lot of controversy, so I'm glad that they have changed it. This kingdom usually has desert-themed clothing, ancient Greek/Egyptian clothing, clothing inspired by nature, bohemian clothing, and Bollywood-inspired costumes (the cultural representation isn’t always the best, unfortunately…but I am optimistic that Shining Nikki and Infinity Nikki are more culturally sensitive than Love Nikki).

🤖Ruin Island/Whaleport: A mysterious island that features “futuristic” or sci-fi inspired clothing. In previous games, we have seen medical doctors with dubious legitimacy, scientists who experiment on themselves (?) and androids, so I’m curious to see who we’ll meet this time. Many players from the previous games who liked this style have felt that the developers often neglect this kingdom, unfortunately.

❄️Story and gameplay advice

Without spoiling the older games, I can say that, generally...

Most of the story is based on conflicts between different characters and sometimes different kingdoms. These problems, as mentioned before, are solved through styling battles.

Infinity Nikki seems to be going for a cozier vibe. However, both of its predecessors have sometimes gone into dark territories, featuring themes of war, violence, and betrayal. (I may or may not have cried over the death of a certain someone in Love Nikki...)

Therefore, dramatic things could very well happen in Infinity Nikki. I'm not saying that it can't be your comfort game if that is what you are hoping for, as the other games can still also be light, funny, and cozy. I just want to warn more sensitive players who might not be expecting it from a dress-up game.

If the "miracle outfits" are like the "lifetime suits" of the previous games, they will take forever to craft. Take your time, but do try to craft them because they have very high stats.

I'm not sure how f2p-friendly Infinity Nikki will be, but I haven't spent anything on either of the other games and I've been able to buy many of the suits I wanted. Just make sure that you budget accordingly and remember that if you want one suit but can't afford it at the time, another suit with a similar aesthetic might come out in the future.

Keep an eye out for redeem codes! These are often posted by the game's social media, and you can get a lot of free stuff.

The fan-favorite kingdoms are usually Lilith/Ninir (Heartcraft) and Cloud (Lanling), followed by Pigeon (Twinmoon) and Apple (Starhail). The other three tend to get neglected, so if you like the sound of those the most, I'm sorry... :(

❄️My predictions for future updates

Every time we enter a new country in Miraland, we will have new ability outfits to craft to fit the style of the new setting. This is because most of the outfits we have so far look like Lilith/Ninir suits in previous games, without influences from other nations. I'm very curious to know what a Lanling-themed electrician outfit would look like.

Since Lanling is the only other named country so far in the actual story content, we will see it next, hopefully in time for Lunar New Year. They're probably also going to give us another free suit. (I hope it's Legend of the White Snake themed, since next year is Year of the Snake!)

Then, we'll probably see the equivalent of the Apple Federation, followed by Pigeon Kingdom.

We will get a new version of this stunning dress. It's called the Star Sea and has shown up in every game so far. I'm actually surprised we haven't heard about it in Infinity Nikki yet.

Please let me know if this guide has been useful, and if there's other parts of the games you'd like me to cover!

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking, has been for some years now, and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts, after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else, you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected, just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan, you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word, close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly, everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further, not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at, your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much, not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different, just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body, rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Could we please have a batboys (and Bruce) x reader who can break the 4th wall?

This was rubbish.

Dick

Would rest his head on your shoulder and ask. ‘Who are you talking to sweetheart?’

He genuinely wants to know considering the first thing he heard was you talking back his beautiful back and perfect thighs, only to find that you were saying all this to no one in particular.

‘Oh just the lovely people reading this.’ You tell him happily and Dick would only see the walls of your shared room.

‘And what are they saying?’ Dick would then say.

‘Oh I can’t hear them, nor can I really see them exactly but I just have this feeling that we are being watched -or read in this case- by many people, I can sense them and i want them to feel included in my love life with the most beautiful man Gotham has to offer.’ You tell him as you kiss him on the cheek, making him smile.

‘Well as long as they know that I am taken by you, then we’ll be okay.’ Dick replied as he kissed your forehead sweetly. Dick at first though you were just the type to talk to yourself like some people, but seeing as how it seemed as though you were more or less addressing someone rather then just talking to yourself, Dick then assumed that you might have an ability that allows you to look past this reality and into another one entirely that might be looking into this one.

It was a scary thought to think that he was being watched ,or read as you put it, by another reality but it was intriguing nonetheless the less that there was a possibility of multiple dimensions. So he could only imagine what you were able to experience if you were able to see beyond this reality to address people who probably saw him in a different form entirely.

If anything he’s extremely curious as to how your ability worked exactly as it was something that was clearly unheard of. Somedays you would address the audience as per usual but other times you didn’t address them at all, almost as though you knew where and when they’ll pay attention to you both: all so that you could entertain them for as long as possible without it coming across as excessive or too long winded.

He would try to act like he could see them too as to not have you feeling so alone, but would get flustered when you tell him that he was looking the wrong way.

He’ll leave the fourth wall breaking to you instead and will be nosy and ask all sorts of questions about your ability, all before saying that your powers was the most coolest he’s come across, but you knew he was only saying that because you were his beloved partner but that didn’t make what he said any less true.

Jason

Would raise a brow at first but would keep this tendency to himself out of a need to protect you from those who’d gladly send you away for such tendency.

Jason isn’t phased by much but you talking to a wall as though someone was there brought a weird feeling to his chest.

‘His thighs? Perfect. His stomach and autopsy scars? Delicious. Arms, hands and back? Gorgeous but all of you at home are already aware of that and could only imagine how plush his tits are-‘

‘Who are you talking to chipmunk?’ He’d ask, cutting you off as he expected you to be on the phone to someone, so imagine to his surprise when he saw your phone on charge and you were in fact talking to thin air.

‘Just the people thirsting after you.’ You’d reply as though it was common sense.

‘Thirsting?’ Jason tried the word, not liking how it sounded coming from his mouth. ‘What’s that?’

‘Just think of it as another word for desire, but they can’t have you because in their reality you’re a fictional character who gets the short end of the stick constantly by people who don’t know what to do with you in general.’ You shrugged as you looked over at him with a smile. ‘Also you get stereotyped as someone you’re not by people who obviously lack a capacity for reading given how short their attention span is.’ The last part was muttered under your breath before bringing the conversation back to him.

‘Enough about me how about you honey?’

It wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and Jason knew it wouldn’t be the last either as he would find you passionately ranting to your invisible audience about something, and while it was cute to watch you be this passionate, he also became concerned for you in case you were going through something that you didn’t want to burden him with out of a need to protect yourself.

‘You can tell me if you’re going through something you know that right?’ He’d tell you one night as he holds your face in his hands.

‘Of course I do jaybird,’ you whispered to him before watching him as he fell asleep, only to move your head elsewhere to speak to the wall. ‘Isn’t he the cutest? Truly a man unlike any other, a dying breed if you will, but I can assure you dear readers that you too will find your Jason Todd because that’s what you all deserve in life is to be loved deeply by an non-judgmental and caring man.’ You fished before joining him in your sleep.

Tim

He thinks your maladaptive daydreaming.

What else was he meant to take away from you talking to seemingly no one so passionately as you did in that moment.

He didn’t want to say that you were insane but it wasn’t everyday where a sane person would idly make conversation with thin air or a brick wall as casually as you did.

That or you were extremely lacking in sleep and were now seeing things, if that was the case then he would be able to relate to you as he had those types of days also, more often then others that’s for sure but from what Tim could tell was far from the truth as you looked bright and too well rested for that to be the answer.

And honestly? He doesn’t want to know who exactly you were talking to as not to frighting himself shitless and would act as though you talking to a crowd of no one within your shared room was completely normal in Gotham.

God forbid you start talking to this unseen audience during the night, Tim will think he’s in some sort of horror movie that he was forced to watch with the rest of his family on Halloween. Seriously who knew fourth wall breaking could come across as though you were demonically possessed?

He wants to ask who you’re talking to, he really does but if he was running low on fumes that day, really tired and wanting nothing more then sleep he would forgo all logic and just agree with what you were saying to thin air.

‘I wish I could tell you just how mean Tim can be when he’s sleep deprived, you think you know sarcasm? Wait until Tim is on about two hours of sleep and then you’ll know true sarcasm.’ You’d say.

‘Says the one who’s talking to the wall as though it had ears to listen or a mouth to respond.’ He’d replied.

‘See what Im on about? Absolutely mean when he’s sleep deprived.’ He would hear you whisper aloud but he was on the verge of falling asleep against the table to find out the true reason to your uncanny ability to break the fourth wall.

Damian

Genuinely thought something was off with how often you would look off into the distance, as though you were addressing someone he couldn’t see, like a hidden camera that lead to an unseen audience.

‘Isn’t he the cutest when he’s acting all tough,’ he’d her you say, ‘it’s like if you give a rabid chihuahua a knife but ten times worse because he can actually back up his deeply descriptive threats.’ Damian’s brow would raise at this as he watched you silently as his mind wondered who you could possibly be entertaining with such things.

Gotham has an ability to make the most strong minded person break and needles to say Damian would keep silent watch over you while you had these kinds of episodes, even when you would proudly praise his artistic skills but never to him directly, but more so to seemingly thin air with a beaming smile.

‘He’s got a future as many things and in all honestly I’m envious of how multitalented my Dami is, but at least I get to be his hype man and cheer for him no matter what, which is something I bet half of you which you could have but here I am loving your fantasy!’ You’d finish with a cackle and it left Damian smiling to himself at your pride towards him, but also still very curious as to who it was you were talking to.

‘Who are you talking to.’ He would ask you one day.

‘The audience reading this fic.’ You’d reply as though it was the most casual thing to bring up in conversation.

Damian’s brows furrowed. ‘Audience? What audience.’ He tried looking in the same direction as you, only to see nothing but his bed.

‘Oh I don’t expect you to see them but they are there,’ you tried to reassure Damian but it only came off as ominous and albeit cryptic, ‘they are always there, watching.’ You’d add and needles to say your words only made Damian go into a defensive posture at the aspect of being spectated by beings only you could seemingly engage with.

Well done you’ve made Damian somewhat paranoid as to what this audience you speak to wanted, what they wanted with you to have you keep engaging in conversation with them and what they could be planning.

‘Always watching?’ Damian asked.

‘Yep,’ you replied, ‘but not when we’re in the bathroom, that’s just really weird but other then that we are merely entertainment for them to consume on days of boredom and to grow a parasocial relationship with us to their leisure.’ You added and when you looked over at Damian, his jade eyes were wide and you winced internally, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all because now you’d knew Damian would start reaching for his sword out of instinct now.

Try and tell him it’s a joke as much as you like but Damian would now take your ability to break the fourth wall as a sign that someone was out there, watching all of you, an invisible enemy that he couldn’t kill and it pissed him off. He’ll break you free of the curse…sooner or later.

Bruce

‘That man is finer than a mother fucker and he knows it. And I know damn well all you thirsty bitches are making edits of my sexy Bruce to the song of older by Isabel LaRosa. I just know it you absolute sluts, but I can’t blame you because I would too.’ Bruce had just finished showering and the first thing he sees is you seemingly talking to a wall as though you were talking to a group of people in a whole different plan of existence.

He’s seen a lot of things in his time as Batman but someone talking to people who aren’t there? He’d assume you’re either clairvoyant or have another ability that can allow you to talk to an audience of people whom he can’t see, for whatever it was wouldn’t change Bruce’s opinion on you, powers or not.

‘My darling.’ He’d greet you as he holds you from behind. ‘May I ask why and or who you were speaking so passionately about me to?’ He adds.

‘The people reading this fanfic.’ You’d tell him as though it was a completely normal thing to admit as it was something you had been doing for as long as you could remember. Your parents thought you were talking to an invisible friend like other kids your age, but it grew concerning when you were still talking to no one in particular well into your late teens.

Bruce just raised a brow but would assume that you had some ability that you weren’t comfortable to admit to him, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk to him about such a thing, especially not if you had admitted to someone in the past before and their reactions were negative.

He would just try and look deeper into this sort of thing in hopes of finding any pre-existing information about anyone showing similar signs as you and reading it deeply and intensively so that he could be well informed to know what you were going through. Bruce loves to be educated on things that he didn’t understand with the hopes of understanding it on a deeper level, so if he did managed to find something that perfectly describes what you were doing, then he’ll be reading it until he could recite it in his sleep.

He didn’t want you to feel as though you should be ashamed of your unique ability and would often take notes and things that he’d noticed you do as you addressed the invisible audiences in vivid detail. Your ability to see into another reality or anything similar to talk to people was a powerful thing to have and Bruce was fascinated by such a unique power, a power that could prove that alternate realities exist.

But Bruce would find himself intrigued with how you talked to this invisible audiences, almost as though you were greeting an old friend, whether or not this was your way to cope with the fact that you could sense an audience watching your every move and leave no privacy to be had for yourself. It was unfortunately something Bruce wasn’t quite sure but until your ability was causing you harm he would contour to watch and observe while acting as though he was unaware/ unfazed of your tendency to talking to seemingly no one.

Basically reader: you should know this too

[pucksandpower]

Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

[temis-de-leon]

MC with a selfish best friend

MC mourning the loss of a long toxic friendship with the help of the brothers.

Characters: demon brothers and fem!MC (written as platonic, but could be read as romantic)

Masterlist , Part 2 (kind of)

CW: continued discussion about weight gain and weight loss, eating as a coping mechanism, obssesive and manipulative behaviour, emotional blackmail, a glimpse of animal neglect, a tiny nod at suicide, MC trying to hide her feelings, anxiety, TLC from the brothers

A/N: kind of self insert because I'm writing my own experience, so this isn't the most relatable MC. Still, I hope you enjoy it! Remember I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be some grammar mistakes.

.

.

Back then, not that long ago, MC was completely sure she wouldn’t go any further in life. She was stuck in college, in her family and her friend group. There was a dynamic she could work through and, although it could be better, she wasn’t one to complain.

It was a flooded basement with filthy water, but at least it lacked rats.

She just needed some time to start working on herself. Go to therapy, lose some weight maybe? Start cooking again and stop wasting money on fast food. She did use to enjoy spending time in the kitchen and experimenting, after all, but the only things she cooked during her last months in the human realm were mugcakes and pasta. Not necessarily nutritious, but easy to make.

Thank god she had her best friend.

Her companion in the basement, the one with the flashlight.

MC wished she let her hold her hand too.

.

.

“She’s overthinking again. Not good”

“Look who’s talking”

“Hey! It was just a joke!”

“Should we talk to her?”

“Maybe when she comes back, else we’ll give her a heart attack”

“Yeah, Lucifer would kill us”

“Oh, so now we’re doing this for Lucifer?”

“Don’t be selfish, Mammon”

“Who ya calling selfish?”

“Ugh”

MC listened carefully, softly smiling at Beel and Levi’s voices drowning Mammon’s in an almost silent screaming match.

She couldn’t see them from her position, her upper body completely sprawled over the armrest and her line of sight lost in the ashes of the chimney. The fire cracked, threatening to die in front of her, but it was difficult to get up when her body weighted so much. She was tired and hungry and nauseous and even the idea of sitting straight sent bile to her mouth.

Then someone walked into the common room, shushing harshly and getting the other brothers to cease their fighting. Whoever it was, probably Lucifer or Satan, must have thought she was asleep.

So MC closed her eyes, hiding her face in the crook of her arm and basking in the comfortable silence. She could hear them still; the shuffle of cards, a plastic wrapper, buttons and joysticks.

The newcomer got close to her, covering her body with a blanket and sitting at her feet before opening a book. There was enough space in the couch for at least two more people, but MC still curled up, trying to make more room for him. She stopped in her tracks when he grabbed her ankle in a gentle grip, a gesture that brought some warmth where her pants didn’t reach.

Would someone add another log for the fire? Everyone seemed too comfortable to move.

At least the blanket was thick. Pure hellish wool or something, because every animal in the Devildom was just a bigger scarier version of those in the human realm. It was also, however, softer than any type of textile she could’ve ever find back home, so the creature could spit fire for all she cared.

Suddenly, the brother caressing her ankle tightened his grip for a short moment, demanding her attention. When MC opened her eyes, she found Satan smiling at her with no one else in the room. She must’ve fallen asleep after all.

“Dinner is ready”

He let her stretch, unconsciously comparing her to a cat when she arched her back and cracked every possible bone in her body. Satan wondered if that ever hurt, but MC seemed to enjoy it very much whenever she had the occasion to do so, like when they came home from classes after a long day or when they bought groceries for the whole week and Beel. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Not for a while, no”

“Is that so? Something troubling you, MC? Anything I can help with?”

“I don’t know”

She sounded sincere, but Satan didn’t buy it. Only a month had passed since MC came back to the Devildom, looking a bit more tired than when she left at the end of the first year of the program, and she’d acted ecstatic when she learnt she would be living with them again.

He was sure the problem relied in her human phone, something she didn’t have last year and Diavolo had kindly allowed her to keep.

All of his brothers, even the eldest, were greatly impressed when MC showed them how she unlocked the device with her fingerprints, as well as the human versions of Devilgram, Deviltube and Akuzon. That was a fun day, but time passed and soon the phone became an inconvenience. Someone at the other side of the line was taking their beloved human’s time, leaving her exhausted in the aftermath of their conversations and, if Satan vision’s was correct, teary eyed.

That would not continue. Not on his watch.

“We’ll look into it in another moment. Right now, let’s go with the others. Aren’t you hungry?”

“God, yes!”

They both chuckled and he forced his thoughts away. They could wait for the time being.

.

.

Beel didn’t judge her, but she didn’t feel as happy as she thought she would whenever they sneaked in the kitchen at the late hours of the night.

Opening the fridge door with slow movements, trying not to make noise while taking plates or bowls and eating in silence between giggles and short whispers brought a sort of familiarity. And Beel never judged MC. Why would he? He ate even more than her. He’d keep going long after she was finished, full enough to want to puke everything, and MC would feel a wicked satisfaction knowing that no matter how much she ate, there was someone that would eat much more.

Those nights she’d go to bed feeling sick and greasy, too regretful and high on sugar to be tired. Then, by morning, she’d force herself to eat breakfast and go on with her day just to get whatever sense of normality she could reach.

Although, lately, things had been slightly different.

They still got together at night and filled their mouths to the brim, but Beel was adamant about MC going to the gym with him when the morning came, before everyone was out of bed. Of course she’d said no since the beginning, but he kept insisting, saying she didn’t have to exercise if she didn’t want to.

MC still said no.

Then Asmodeus put his input.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, hon’, but you aren’t getting your 8 hours of sleep and you’re adding calories during the night. That’s horrible for your skin!”

And had it been her mother saying that, MC would’ve lashed out, rejecting opinions she’d been hearing for years over and over and over again, but this was Asmo. The Avatar of Lust. The most beautiful demon in the entire Devildom. MC guessed she wasn’t being fair to her mother, who also loved her and hated seeing her so sick and tired all the time, when it was Asmo she couldn’t ignore.

“I get anxious when I go to bed” she finally confessed.

MC could feel Satan’s eyes on her, but he stayed silent.

“Spend the night with me” intervened Belphie with an honest smile, a muted worry in his eyes “I could make you so tired you wouldn’t want to get out of bed”

“No way!”

Everyone looked at Mammon and several sighs filled the room. The demon, although deeply blushing, kept talking with an overbearing smugness.

“If someone’s gonna sleep with her, it’s gonna be me! Don’t worry MC, the Great Mammon will chase the nightmares away!”

“I think sleeping with you would give her nightmares, actually”

Mammon turned to Levi, ready to swing at his brother, but MC talked before the fight started.

“It’s not nightmares, Mams, I just feel anxious. You know, like, I can’t stop thinking”

“About what?”

She looked at Satan, who was staring at her with a calculating glance, surely remembering what she told him days before when she fell asleep on the couch.

“I don’t know… Everything, I guess”

All of them stayed silent, ignoring what they were previously doing. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, but MC wished someone said anything.

Of course, Mammon spoke first.

“Well, that’s a lot”

“No shit, you moron”

Levi finally got smacked and the rest of them went back to do their own thing, letting MC’s lack of sleep behind. A part of her wanted to keep the conversation going, but she felt too embarrassed when she tried to open her mouth again, especially having Satan looking at her like a hawk.

You don't want me to stare at you? I want to. What's the problem?

She achieved to ignore him in the end.

That night she stayed in her room, pacing, chewing her sweatshirt’s aglet while humming that Phineas and Ferb’s song and turning her headphone’s volume to the maximum with a different music threatening to deteriorate her hearing.

Anything to distract herself and not go to the kitchen.

Finally, hours after bidding the brothers goodnight, MC threw herself on the bed. Her feet were aching, its footprints surely engraved in the carpet, and she forgot to take her headphones off, making the position uncomfortable, but the important thing was that she didn’t have the need to eat anymore.

However, Beel still knocked her door at dawn.

MC stared at him when she opened, bleary-eyed and mouth as dry as cotton, the hem of her pyjama pants so high they looked like pantaloons. He, on the other hand, was completely awake and seemed ready to conquer the day.

“Before you say anything, I’m not going to the gym today”

There was a heavy silence for a couple of seconds.

“Then why did you wake me up? We have classes tomorrow”

Beel stared at her with a worried expression.

“We don’t. It’s Saturday”

“Ah”

She could’ve sleep longer? MC wished she was mad at him, but his puppy stare was hypnotizing.

“I want to go for a walk today. And I want you to come with me”

He lowered his gaze for a moment, biting his cheek while waiting for an answer. MC turned around and looked at the window, still unable to decipher what time it was by looking at the sky.

There were a few things MC missed from the human realm. The sun was one of them.

“We could go to the park, feed some birds and then have breakfast somewhere else. I swear I won’t eat the seeds this time"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes when he smiled back. Then she looked down at the rolled pants and her bare legs.

“Is it cold?”

“I don’t think so, but you can borrow my jacket”

MC sighed and rubbed her eyes, waiting until the white spots disappeared before walking towards her closet. She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, she knew that.

“Let me change and then we’re going. But you owe me one, Beel!”

His smile was too wide for him to answer.

.

.

Breakfast with Beel ended up lasting three whole hours, which was understandable, and they spent the whole time talking about nothing and almost everything, both of them clearly avoiding the subject of her sleeping habits.

MC really did want to talk about it, but then again, what did she want to talk about exactly? She had trouble falling asleep, yes, and she’d gone back to eating her feelings, but she couldn’t point out the reason. Her nights were filled with paranoia, making her revaluate every piece of interaction she’d had since she got back home from the Devildom months ago. Did she spoke correctly? Did people understand that she was just studying abroad and not begging for attention?

She hoped her best friend dropped those accusations. MC would never stoop so low. Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t you want anything else?”

MC looked at Beel and the stack of plates surrounding him at the table, mugs and cardboard boxes stained with chocolate, whipped cream and frosting. Her side of the booth was much cleaner, but when she lowered her gaze the only thing she could think of were mugcakes and pasta and the taste of bile in her mouth at the sight of her bloated stomach.

“No, I’m fine”

She knew he loved her. She knew she could talk to him and he would listen and maybe even hold her hand, but the small restaurant was already filled with demons and witches and whatnot and MC knew she’d only be able to sob the moment she’d open her mouth, so she stayed quiet.

Beel nodded, going back to his food with a strange calmness. Maybe he was close to being full?

But no, it wasn’t that.

MC gasped when she felt his foot weakly tapping hers before going under it to support its weight. A small comfort, like the prelude of a long awaited hug.

He didn’t know how much she appreciated it.

.

.

Winter had already reached the Devildom the day MC opened her closet and stared at her clothes. No matter what she chose, everything was at least a size bigger.

She guessed finally going to the gym with Beel did have some payoff.

“Is something wrong, MC?”

Asmo turned the lights of her bathroom off, walking where she was silently standing while staring at the discarded clothes around her.

“You don’t feel like dressing up today? We can stay home and do some self-care if you want”

MC turned around to look at him with gratitude. She knew how much he wanted to go shopping, especially with her. Finals ended just the day before and everyone had been so occupied they’d barely seen each other outside classes and meal times.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that. It’s just that… everything feels wrong. I think I lost weight”

He chuckled at her revelation, hugging her waist and kissing her cheek between giggles.

“You’re taking care of yourself, silly! Whatever are you doing with Beel in the gym, I wonder…?”

She laughed and lightly hit his arm, showing no ill intent, and Asmo smiled in response, not bothering to hide his lewd expression.

“Don’t be nasty!”

 “Oh, I’m just joking! But you know what this means, right? We get to renew your whole closet!”

MC turned around again, perfectly knowing that she could either spent her monthly allowance on clothes or start thinking on how she could rock the oversize streetwear style.

She sighed, trying to hide her smile with no success before speaking again. Asmo’s eyes were stuck on her.

“Very well, then” she wasn’t finish talking yet when the demon clapped his hands and jumped in excitement “I’ll trust your criteria”

He gasped and hit her arm in return.

“As you should!”

.

.

“So… how do I look?”

Mammon whistled, clapping and signalling her to turn around in response. Once she did a little twirl, he clapped even harder, not stopping even when she blushed in embarrassment and ran towards him to stop his overly excited appreciation.

“You look mighty fine, MC!”

“Stop!”

“Has anyone ever told you how hot you look?”

“Stop!!”

They were both laughing, her chasing him all around his room with burning cheeks and a gigantic smile.

The shopping bags waited patiently at the door, half of them already empty with a pile of clothes folded on the couch. Mammon had insisted on a private catwalk the moment he learnt she’d gone shopping with Asmo, his offense completely gone barely half an hour after starting the show in his room.

Every time she changed in his opened closet he’d cover his eyes with his hands and every time she came out with a new outfit he’d scream praises like a madman.

MC wasn’t used to this level of compliments and he sure was making it hard to stay calm.

“C’mon, go change again!”

“You’re acting insane right now, Mams”

She was smiling like crazy and her cheeks were hurting, but she didn’t want it to stop. When was the last time someone had been this hyped over her looking pretty? She couldn’t remember.

Then her phone rang.

MC stopped smiling when she saw the name on the screen.

She thought about answering and spoiling a nice evening because of a sour one-sided conversation. Was it worth it? Sure her friend could wait a couple more hours, right? She’d survived without MC the whole year she spent at the Devildom uncommunicated, after all.

“Is it The Unnameable?”

MC stared at her phone for one more second before turning around to look at Mammon, who was kneeling on the couch with his arms crossed over the backrest, eyes peeking with curiosity and another feeling she couldn’t identify.

“The Unname… Robdemor??”

He nodded, blushing and looking away.

“Yeah. You know, like, her name brings bad luck or some shit”

“She doesn’t bring bad luck”

MC didn’t sound as convincing as she wanted to and Mammon’s incredulity proved her point.

“Don’t be stupid, MC”

The pot calling the kettle back, she wanted to say, but no words came to her mouth. She was being stupid, wasn’t she? Everyone at the house already knew what to expect whenever her phone ringed or vibrated and they always did their best to distract her so she could leave the damn thing behind. She suspected Belphie even turned it off at one point.

Staring at her feet, trying to voice her feelings, MC talked again.  

“She just… needs me sometimes”

“Sometimes??”

Mammon got up, going around the couch to reach her. He looked flabbergasted, eyes opened wide and a myriad of words stuck in his throat.

The phone stopped ringing, but soon a flood of messages interrupted the silence to call for her attention instead. When she looked back at Mammon, he had frustration in his eyes.

She decided then she couldn’t bear to see him like this, so serious and reasonable. Was it too late to go back to chasing each other, laughing while trying new clothes? She’d been capable of keeping her feelings to herself since she could remember, but Mammon wouldn’t let her do that and she feared the moment the rest of the brothers decided enough was enough too.

God, she needed to talk, but not right now. Talking would make it real and she still wasn’t strong enough for the whole situation to be real.

In a matter of seconds her eyes were watering and she felt as if her throat had thorns stuck in her flesh, but before she could do anything about it there were arms wrapping around her. MC wasted no time hugging Mammon back, trying her hardest not to spoil any tears. The tags in the back of her new shirt poked her skin, making her squirm and get even closer to Mammon’s body.

He was rocking her side to side while petting her hair and there was no doubt he’d deny the whole ordeal happening afterwards, but she let herself enjoy the feeling anyways. It was nice being taken care of.

.

.

It was the first time MC had gone to bed so early since before college. Her eyelids felt heavy and the bed was soft and comfortable, at least three blankets shielding her from the cold outside that froze her window and sunk her room in darkness.

But she couldn’t stop staring at her phone.

She’d turned the vibration off days ago, but that didn’t stop the notifications from showing up on the lock screen and, although she could also take care of that, MC still wanted to be able to read the messages without needing to open the app.

Her best friend talked about everything, good or bad. Mostly bad. How she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her, even when she was the one cheating on him, how much she was eating because there was no one to stop her, how tired she was to even clean her cat’s litter box. She’d say if MC were there everything would be so much better, she wouldn’t feel so lonely.

She didn’t ask about MC once.

“You’re thinking so hard it’s giving me a headache”

MC’s body violently jerked at Belphie’s voice.

He’d entered the room in silence, closing the door and approaching her bed without making any noise. Seeing her freaking out made him snicker, but he was too tired to fully laugh and simply laid down next to her.

“Jesus, Belphie”

“No, just me��

“Ha ha ha”

Her sarcasm didn’t affect him in the slightest. MC watched as he closed his eyes and offered his hand to held hers in a firm grasp, probably not wanting to let her go during the night.

“Turn that damn thing off” he growled against the pillow when a new message showed up.

“I’ve seen you sleep on the ground before; you can’t complain about some light”

“Watch me”

She thought he was just joking, challenging her like a small child would, but Belphie managed to surprise her when he rolled over her body, grabbed the phone and threw it to the other side of the room.

“Belphie!”

He shushed, sealing her lips under his hand before hugging her body with all four limbs, trapping her under the covers.

MC could’ve complained and hit him until he let her go to retrieve the phone, but that would’ve meant pissing him off and staring at the screen for another hour or until her friend decided it was time to show some interest in MC’s life.

…

Whoa.

…

So that’s what it was.

That simple, uh?

MC waited for something to happen at her epiphany. Nausea, panic, heavy breathing. Instead, she felt an overpowering sense of relief. Her heartbeat evened and the frown she didn’t know she had in her forehead disappeared.

No headache, no memories. For once, no nothing.

“You’re not dying, aren’t you?”

Belphie’s head rose, looking at her with suspicion, but her eyes were stuck in the ceiling.

“Why? Would you feel guilty?

He stood over her then, pouting and frowning, and MC had to stop herself from laughing.

“Okay, you know what? I already said I was sorry. You can’t hold that against me for the rest of your life”

“I will as long as I can get something out of it”

“You’re evil”

“Said the demon”

His head fell face first on the pillow with a thud and if she didn’t know him any better, she’d be worried about him suffocating to death during the night.

“Why did you ask that, tho?” MC finally talked.

“Your heart stopped for a second” he shrugged and mumbled, his hold on her hand stronger than before.

“Oh… Well… Don’t worry. I’m okay”

“Are you sure?”

No, not really, but she didn’t want to talk about it in that moment. Maybe another time, when her speech wasn’t slurred due to sleep and she could organize her thoughts with a clear mind.

She hummed as an answer before speaking one last time.

“Goodnight, Belphie”

“Sweet dreams, MC”

He’d make sure of that.

.

.

MC had been quiet for a while. Not out of sadness nor ire, but something much more private. Something that left her pensive and still, staring into nothing with a serious expression. She laughed and talked with the brothers and, from what he heard, she enjoyed going to the gym with Beel, but Lucifer knew there was another factor escaping his reach.

Whatever it was, it changed MC for the better, so he was happy.

Even when the strangest ideas crossed her mind.

“I think I’m going to cut my hair”

He looked at her, clicking his tongue in disapproval when he saw her sitting sideways in one of the chairs with her feet resting in the other. She had a book resting in her lap. How long had she been looking at him and not reading?

“May I ask why?”

“I need a change”

Lucifer stared, taking his glasses off before crossing his arms over the document he was previously reading. MC got up and walked, zigzagging her way towards his desk as if she was drunk, but she looked as hopeful as ever.

“Did something happen?”

She nodded, ignoring his question right after.

“One of these days I’m just gonna… grab a glass of wine, go to the bathroom and bam! Haircut”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smile at her words. He hadn’t seen her so playful in months and the sudden change felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Do you even like wine, MC?”

“That’s not the point”

“And you shouldn’t use scissors while drunk, especially near your head” he ignored her “If it’s money you’re worried about, I can pay for a good hairdresser”

She laughed and shook her head, partially sitting on the desk. They stayed silent for a few seconds and Lucifer let himself observe her, how she bit her bottom lip deep in thought and how her fingers intertwined with a certain force. She was probably hurting herself at that point.

“I just really need a change”

He could tell there was more she wanted to say, but that seemed to be enough for the moment. The silence afterwards felt full with comfort.

“That’s fine”

MC nodded and sent him a small smile before going back to the chair, this time sitting with her knees stuck to her chest, but before he could put his glasses on to continue his work, she spoke again.

“Here’s what we’re going to do: I cut my hair in the bathroom and then you take me to the hairdresser to style it. Sounds good?”

“Are you going to drink while using the scissors?”

“I’m not a child, Lucifer”

“Might as well”

“Hey!”

“Just joking” he laughed, but MC could tell there was some seriousness behind his smile.

“I drink wine, I cut my hair and you check I don’t stab myself on accident, how about that?”

Lucifer pondered about it, envisioning himself behind her and watching over her reflection in the mirror, a bottle of wine in the countertop and another of Demonus waiting for them in the music room. She’d be the one to clean the aftermath, that bit was obvious, but something told him she wouldn’t really care about that.

The more he thought about it, the less strength he had to fight it. She could’ve asked Asmodeus or Mammon, but she asked him. MC wanted him to be with her during her progress, as stupid as the method was.

“Sounds like a plan to me, MC”

Her smile at his words was worth millions.

.

.

It wasn’t until several hours had passed that MC wondered if Levi invited her to his room with a hidden motive in mind.

The anime came out less than a day ago and she’d never even seen an ad about it, but he’d thoroughly claimed it was made for her.

And she could see why he would say that, honestly.

Sure, no ancient dying star granted her any mystical powers that allowed her to soar the skies or wear an alarmingly short sparkly dress; and she didn’t have an animal sidekick or a romantic interest that only appeared at night for some reason. She didn’t have an arch nemesis either, but she did have the closest thing.

MC was the selfish one, apparently, because how could she? How could MC have the audacity to ignore her best friend’s messages in her desperate times of need? Her boyfriend broke up with her because he discovered the cheating and no one was there to remind her of feeding the cat, neither to monitor her diet nor to fix the consequences of her bad decisions. She was in the lowest point of her life and MC dared to lose weight and spend time with her new friends? Outrageous!

MC unlocked her phone and stared in silence at the new text and voice messages, as well as some missed calls.

You disappoint me, MC.

After all I did for you?

I’ll die and it’ll be your fault.

I’ll die and I’ll make sure you’re the one to discover my body.

You’ll never be able to forget about me then.

You’re disgusting.

MC stared at the screen, not knowing if she should laugh or cry about it. In the end she chuckled and forced down the sting in her throat.

The TV in front of her suddenly turned into a kaleidoscope and she squinted as the heroine jumped from platform to platform, blasting her wand and singing spells. If she understood correctly, the cheery character was fighting her way through the first big boss of the season, her friends close behind her.

She could feel Levi’s eyes on her, no doubt studying her reactions to see if she liked the anime as much as he did.

“Hey, Henry!”

MC turned to look at him and smiled brightly at his rosy cheeks. She expected him to explain some hidden lore or the meaning behind the soundtrack, but he surprised her with his next words.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t told you yet, but your hair looks so cool!”

“Oh!” she widely opened her eyes in appreciation, showing her teeth in a beaming smile right after “Thanks, Levi!”

“You look… eh… upgraded. Well, no, not upgraded. Erm…” he avoided her gaze for the next few seconds before pausing the anime, letting the room go back to silence. MC kept quiet, trying not to laugh at his awkwardness so he wouldn’t misunderstand the situation.

“You look really pretty, MC. Even better than her”

Levi nodded at the TV and MC stared at the heroine, the pause conveniently showing her winning pose. Big sparkly eyes winking at her and a knowing smile occupying half of her face, as if she was approving Levi’s affirmation.

MC felt the need to cry right then and there, but she held it in.

Her phone lighted up one last time before she grabbed it and turned it off in anger. She had a couple of seconds before the screen permanently went back to black, letting her read the last message.

Who do you think you are? How could you do this to me?

MC seethed. She knew who she was, even if she was still learning. Her hands itched and she forced herself not to throw the phone on the ground with all her strength. She still needed it to talk to other friends and relatives, after all.

After an entire minute filled with tense silence, MC spoke, suddenly meek and shy.

 “Hey Lev…”

“MC?”

He was staring her with caring eyes, unsure of what to do or what to say.

Fortunately, for the first time in a long while, MC knew what she needed to do. For herself and no one else.

“Would you help me change my phone number?”

She could write down the numbers of those she cared about the most and send a message asking them not to share hers without her permission.

Take care of her arch nemesis without destroying the entire world. Accept the help of people who showed joy at her improvement. Buy new clothes, change her style, cut her hair.

God, walking without that heavy weight on her shoulders would be difficult and painful, but she’d rather die before letting her ex best friend destroy her will and power one last time.

She laughed with a choke and Levi gasped her name.

She was crying.

.

.

.

@ourfinalisation

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 9

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

Hello again! Thank you so much for the love to this series 🙌🏻 I’m enjoying so much the process for each part, and trust me, your feedback is super valuable (I sometimes take inspiration from your POV, like this part…) let’s give an amazing character the best welcome 🥰✨

Also special thanks to @blondie-22 for the gif!!!! (Always portraying what I have in mind ♥️)

Word count: 3,350

“Are you sure you don’t want my company?” Tommy asked for the third time as he pulled in front of the market.

“No, because you’ll start complaining as I go through the stands, but I appreciate the offer.”

“And what about the basket? You’ll have to carry it by yourself on your way back.” He tried again, feeling a bit uneasy for leaving Y/N alone.

“Tom, I’ll only buy cherries, apples and sugar, grandma has the rest.” Y/N gave him a deep frown in response by his overprotective attitude.

Giving up, Tommy raised his hands from the steering wheel. “Fine, but I’ll send someone to join you anyways.”

Y/N wanted to ask if something was wrong, but deep down she knew Tommy wouldn’t tell her much, so she decided to just thank him for the ride and step down of his vehicle.

“I’ll meet grandma at the Garrison and then we’ll go over your house.” She announced leaning down.

“Looking forward for that pie.” Tommy smiled right before driving away towards Watery Lane.

The market wasn’t too crowded as she expected, people trying to sell a bit of everything invaded her personal space, Y/N tried to keep the basket in front of her tummy, in an attempt to protect her baby. She just kept walking to the fruit stands since they were in the middle…

Passing by the stand with the rugs, another one offered jewelry, the sellers were shouting, inviting everyone in, making special offers to get the customers attention.

Reaching the fruits and vegetables stands, she closed her eyes relishing in the smell for several seconds, it was hard to hide she was mouthwatering so Y/N decided to hurry up to get the items she needed and go back to start baking as soon as possible.

“Do you need anything else?” The kind woman offered, making the count in her head.

“That would be all, thank you.” Y/N noticed as more and more people started gathering at the market.

She was now aware of her surroundings, especially after Tommy explained that he didn’t trust Father Hughes. That she needed to be more careful

“Actually… do you’ve any sugar?”

The woman shook her head. “A few stands down they might have though.”

“Wonderful, thank you so much.” With a smile, Y/N paid for her items and as she was about to move forward, she almost bumped into someone. “Lee-Anne!”

“Y/N!” Her sister squealed in delight, arms wrapping around each other immediately. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed some ingredients for a pie.”

“How’s the baby? How are you feeling? Grandma just keeps me updated with bits.”

Y/N couldn’t help but look down, she should have been a role model for her sister.

“We’re both doing okay, Tommy and the Shelby’s had been nothing but kind to us… Although, I wish we could be together and I’m sorry for the way this happened.”

“Mum and Dad shouldn’t have kicked you out.” Lee-Anne stated.

“Don’t blame them, I embarrassed them…“

But before her sister could protest again, their mother’s voice resonated.

“Mum it’s fine, I was just happy to see Y/N.” Lee-Anne explained.

“Happy? How could you be happy? She doesn’t even care to keep a low profile, she’s showing her sin proudly.” Her mother’s words cut like a knife.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal or what you wanted for me, but this is my reality now.” Y/N tried to keep her voice down. “And I’m trying to do my best.”

“Is it the speech that gánster prepared you to repeat?” Her mother shook her head slightly. “Being so close to him only confused you, to see right what is wrong by all means.”

“Why are you even blaming him now? Tommy has been nothing but a real friend to me.”

“You don’t even care that people have been talking about you hmm? Your honor rolling from mouth to mouth, having everybody in Birmingham whispering about you and him, I thought your reputation would be over as the word would spread about Scott not marrying you, but now people are wondering if the baby is a Shelby.”

Y/N gasped too shocked by what her mother just said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Please don’t even try to hide it anymore, all of that secrecy between the two of you, going out for a ride in his horse since you were younger… he acting so protective the day he took you from YOUR house without your father’s permission.”

“He was defending me!” Y/N exploded.

“That’s what they call it now?” With a scoff her mother looked away. “I overheard one of the women that washes clothes, she was talking to someone else who works for I don’t know who and basically they were gossiping about you… and him.”

Y/N was trying to process her mother’s words, taking her time to let it sink in.

Where the hell did that rumor came from? She had been so engrossed in the foundation project and her baby that barely had time to have tea and gossip about anyone.

“I never thought you’d be someone’s mistress.”

The disappointment in her mother’s statement was like a punch in Y/N’s gut, she felt anger raising inside of her.

“Who said that? That’s not true!”

Y/N felt so upset, but at the same time she tried to remain respectful of her mother, wherever she was in the wrong.

“I made a mistake, but my father shouldn’t have hit me like that, I was bleeding, had marks all over my back for days.”

“The way you behaved, what did you expect?” She found tears in her mother’s eyes. “Can you imagine how your father felt for a second?”

“And what about me? What about how I felt?”

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

Y/N let out a shaky breath slowly, trying to regain control of her emotions.

“Think whatever you want Mother.” Y/N adjusted the basket in her hands, while a tear slipped down her cheek. “Tommy saved me and my baby that day… what people think or say about me isn’t my business.”

Walking past her sister, Y/N gave her a half smile, wishing they could get the chance to spend more time together, but she understood Lee-Anne still had to obey their parents and live under their rules.

So now people just assumed she was Tommy’s mistress? How easy it is to talk about someone else behind their back and destroy the good things they had done in a few minutes. Just because Tommy decided to support her and her baby.

As if Tommy would see her differently…

Leaning against the wall after walking for a couple of minutes, Y/N finally allowed herself to crumble, the facade of strong, independent woman was slowly overshadowed by the truth, her mother was right. She wasn’t able to push away the tears any longer.

“Are you alright? Can I help you?” A soft voice called after her worryingly.

“Yes, just getting emotional over something silly. Thank you.” Y/N lied at the stranger wiping the tears with the sleeve of her dress.

The woman looked at her not buying her answer, but decided to change the subject. “I might just take a break, do you mind if I wait here?”

“Not at all.” Y/N replied absently, her mind replaying her mother’s words over and over.

She was right though, as much as she wanted to pretend that everything was alright, that she could take anything life decided to throw at her, not having her parents by her side was a consequence she never imagined, she had failed them terribly and their distance was understandable.

“Is someone you know around? You look pale.” The woman studied Y/N’s features.

Y/N shook her head. “I just feel a bit dizzy, it should pass in a minute.”

The woman looked around not really knowing what to do, what if she got sick? What if something happened to the baby?

“I’m Frances, what’s your name dear?” The woman asked trying to think of something in case she needed help. If she knew her name, at least she could look for her family.

“Y/N!” Scudboat shouted from a few feet away. “There you’re.”

“She isn’t feeling alright.” Frances explained.

The blinder took off his peak cap and started rolling it in his hands nervously.

“What’s the matter?” Polly intervened as she joined them.

“She’s dizzy, I was just keeping her company ma’am, in case she needed help.”

Polly stared at the woman for a second, before fishing inside her handbag and retrieving a small flask. “Here, smell this.”

The strong alcohol aroma hit her immediately, Y/N was fighting a silent battle within her heart. The truth that slipped from her mother’s lips, her own reality she couldn’t deny, everything came at her suddenly.

Polly wrapped her arm around Y/N, poor thing looked so lost.

“I think you need to lay down.” Polly suggested in a motherly tone, but she regretted her words, Watery Lane was full of cops searching every corner for evidence, they took Tommy and John as a warning, scared the hell out of Esme, the place was now a mess and with Tommy out of the picture, she knew Y/N couldn’t deal with that right now.

A worried look crossed both Scudboat and Polly’s eyes.

“My place isn’t far away.” The kind Frances offered shyly. “It isn’t much, but she can rest for a while.”

“Yes, wonderful idea.” Polly exclaimed relieved.

“You’re an angel.” Y/N added knowing she really needed to calm down.

“This way, please.” Frances smoothed her skirt, before offering her hand to Y/N. The blinder following their steps carrying the basket.

And it was indeed very close, the kind woman immediately offered Y/N to lean against the cushions and lift her feet up.

“Can I offer you water or some tea?” Frances asked walking towards the window to let some air in. “My home is modest, but there’s always food and tea for anyone.”

Polly thanked her for her thoughtful gesture but had to turn down the tea offer.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, but I really need to go out right now.” Polly apologized, thinking she needed to sort out everything at the betting shop.

“Oh, she can stay here, I live by myself.”

“Polly I don’t want to give Frances any troubles, I’m fine.”

Polly shot Y/N a knowing look. “You need to rest.”

And with that, Y/N knew she wouldn’t win that argument. Polly was the boss and she had to obey.

“What were you buying if you don’t mind me asking?” Frances asked Y/N with interest once that Polly and Scudboat left, she brought the girl a biscuit, the last one she had for the week.

“Some cherries and apples, my grandma and I would bake a pie but I forgot the sugar.”

“I could give you some.”

Y/N lost it in that moment, she started crying inconsolably.

Without asking anything else, or pushing her to talk, tentatively Frances rubbed Y/N’s back in a comforting motion.

“Sorry.” Y/N sobbed, embarrassed by the sudden outburst. “I’ve just been holding it for so long.”

“What is it?”

“Moments before we met at the market, I had an unpleasant encounter with my Mother, she doesn’t approve nor support my pregnancy. I hadn’t seen her for several weeks and I know, I know this is far from the ideal happy family but there’s nothing I can do to turn things around, we had a disagreement and I guess that made me feel sick.”

Y/N took a deep breath and looked at Frances through her wet lashes. “I’m just touched by your generosity, a complete stranger offering me a hand when my own blood doesn’t care about me nor my baby.”

Frances studied her for an instant, then covered her hand in hers.

“I’m sure your mother loves you and this baby, but she’s tied to strict society rules.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that, she does just as my Father’s says, she breaths if he says so.”

“Why don’t you tell me about this woman, Polly?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled. Polly had always been like an aunt to her, she always had a comforting hug to offer and a word to say when things were wrong.

“She’s Tommy’s aunt, they’re my chosen family now.”

Taking a bite of the biscuit that Frances offered, Y/N adjusted herself to face her. “May I ask about you Frances?”

“We’ll I’m just a newly widow, I went to the market get the ingredients to make jam and tomorrow I’ll go from house to house to sell it.”

Y/N swallowed hard, she was only noticing her completely black attire. How hard it must’ve been to lose her partner and finding a way to make money.

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. There are good and bad days, but I need to do something to have an income.” Frances let out. A heavy sigh. “I’m running out of my husband’s savings.”

Y/N gave Frances a smile full of sympathy, thinking of a way to help her.

“Can I help you to make the jam?” She offered.

“Only if you’re feeling better.”

“Well if you’ve the courage to make and sell jam, the least I can do is try to help you.”

She always wanted to learn to make jam actually and this was exactly what she needed right now to clear her mind and focus on something to find some peace.

“Do you mind if I ask you who is Tommy?” Frances asked with interest as she started cutting the fruits she’d use for the jam.

A genuine smile spread rapidly among Y/N’s lips. “He’s the best man I know… picked me of the ground and provided me with more than I deserve.”

Frances noticed how the young girl’s eyes lit up as she talked about this man, she assumed he wasn’t the father but a very close person to her heart, but decided to not cross the line and ask anything too personal.

Hitting the steering wheel with his fists, Tommy cursed under his breath. For being so weak, for not anticipating his enemies moves.

The moment that Hughes mentioned Y/N and her baby before Tommy was released from the cell, he felt his blood raising, tensed, alarmed and scared for the first time. He didn’t like the fact that Hughes knew about Y/N, the threaten he slipped didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy.

“It would be a shame that poor Y/N goes through the same that happened to your aunt…”- he had been so close to punch him in the face and smash his head against the brick wall, but Tommy knew he was trying to provoke him.

Parking outside Arrow House, he stormed inside the property, terrified to learn by Hughes that they delivered the baby’s furniture that afternoon.

Aware of this failure to protect her, Tommy rushed upstairs, heart pumping against his ribs, worry installed on his shoulders.

Finding Y/N stepping outside her bedroom, she was telling him about the furniture delivered and that her grandma had been visiting earlier, but he went straight to the crib, frantically looking for something.

“What’s wrong Tommy?” Y/N asked not understanding his actions.

“Has someone been here?” He demanded out of breath.

“Just the delivery men.”

As he lifted the mattress, he stopped abruptly at the sight of a card.

There it was, the direct threat towards an unborn child. Tommy decided to hide it inside his suit jacket. Defeated, he walked backwards until his body found the opposite wall.

“Tommy?” Y/N’s voice trembled. “You promised to leave the illegal stuff behind.”

“And I’m trying, I swear I’m trying.”

Y/N saw his recklessness fade away, he was just a man trying to do the right thing, but it was just him against the world.

Eliminating the space between them, Y/N caressed his face.

“I know you’ll keep us safe.” She assured him. “Hmm?”

Fixing his eyes on her, he knew he’d get a bullet for her in a heartbeat.

But now he could only think of her baby, Y/N couldn’t even come close to imagine the risk she was facing.

“Listen to me…” Tommy stated breaking their embrace, taking her face between his hands. “I won’t let anything happen to you, do you understand?”

Not waiting for an answer, he kissed the top of her head softly and pulled her back into his arms. Looking around the nursery, it was slowly coming together, it now had the furniture, Y/N talked about knitting a blanket and her grandmother was making a piece for the baby.

He needed to find out who the hell leaked Y/N’s information to Father Hughes and how did they manage to walk into his house to place that note in the crib.

And he needed to do it before they could hurt Y/N and her baby.

Two days later, she was back to thank Frances for her kindness.

“I won’t take long.” Y/N announced at Tommy’s driver. He had been adamant about her not being alone for a second so now she had a chaperone watching her every move.

It had been a busy day at the institution, Y/N had lots of work to do, unfortunately she had been feeling sick most of the morning, so she gave up and decided to get some air. Heading to the market, she bought a sack of flour, vegetables, eggs, milk, a couple of fresh baguettes and headed towards Frances’ house.

It wasn’t her intention, but since the window was open, she overheard the conversation unfolding inside.

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll accept my proposal.” A man said before walking outside.

Y/N tried to pretend she was knocking on the house next door and waited until the man was out of her eyesight to call out for Frances.

“Frances, are you alright?”

Y/N rushed without waiting to be invited inside, leaving the basket next to her feet.

“No… that man says my husband, my Bert gave him the papers of our house in exchange for some money he needed, but he didn’t get the chance to pay for the loan.” Frances cried.

A gasp escaped Y/N’s lips, this was a mess.

“Take a deep breath.” Y/N proposed not knowing what to do. “Do you’ve someone who can help you?”

“No… I’m on my own.”

With a sigh, Y/N took a look around the small unit, Frances came from a harder background than her, her whole house was the size of her living room, and she had everything there; kitchen, bathroom, bed and the living room. Pondering in the options, decided to do what Tommy had done for her; help without asking questions.

“Why don’t you prepare a bag with your essentials and we’ll figure out the rest later.” Y/N proposed straightening her back.

“But I’ve nowhere to go.” Frances explained.

“You do, I’m taking you somewhere.”

Eventually, they arrived at the Institution, Y/N explained Frances she could stay there while it started operations, it wasn’t properly a house, but there was a sofa to sleep on, and a kitchen with the utensils she might need.

“How can I thank you for this?” Frances needed answers, feeling overwhelmed.

“No need, you helped me the other day… I’m just returning the favor.”

She would see later if there was an open position that Frances could take either at the Institution or the betting shop with Tommy, but for now, she had the day covered.

Next part

🥰 I hope you enjoyed reading this part! Let me know in the comments what you think? ✨

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[sarahreesbrennan]

I remember reading in one of your blog entries (years ago??) that in the new book you were writing, the main character's *sister* had cancer. Does that mean that Alice was originally the main character of Long Live Evil? Was she going to go into the book to save Rae, instead of Rae going in to save herself?

How extremely kind of you to remember!

No, that was actually a YA murder mystery that I wrote while ill, revised while recovering, and sent out into the world where it died on submission. (Which means we sent it out to about 12 editors and the editor either said no, or said yes and took it to acquisitions - a group of people at the publisher including sales and marketing - and acquisitions said no.)

One editor told me she really wanted and really tried to buy it. Another person who worked in publishing (and has since changed jobs, or I wouldn’t share this) said the response at her acquisitions was - if you like this writer, find the next her (implications about health and youth were made).

I was terrified my agent was going to ditch me too, but she said ‘We’ll sell that one day, for now let’s write the next thing.’

I remember another writer telling me she missed my work that wasn’t a tie-in, and I felt ashamed to tell her it wasn’t that I wasn’t writing other things - it was that I couldn’t publish them.

The tie-ins meanwhile were paying the bills (they still are tbh!) and I was and remain so grateful for them. But I also really loved writing them - especially my Sabrina tie-ins, you don’t forget the first, and it reminded me I want to write horror and poly one day - and how they got me to love and sympathise with so many fandoms.

I see the burnout of caregivers all around me, and I wanted to write the story of one. But maybe I also wanted to take a step back from cancer. I didn’t think I did, at the time. I had a whole lot of things I tried writing before Long Live Evil, and I think some of them were really good. One of my critique partners gave me a lipstick with the same name as someone in the murder mystery. There was a romance novel another critique partner said was her favourite thing I’d ever written. But none had someone with cancer at the heart of the story.

And even though Rae isn’t much like me, maybe I had to start there. You can’t make real magic using someone else’s liver. Maybe I had to wait to be brave enough to use my own liver.

I do get requests for advice on how to cope with rejection of your writing, and I always worried I didn’t have anything else to say, but I suppose my example says - if you can, (and I know it’s hard, you feel so terrible at writing and so useless) (and you love the work you’ve done so much and you don’t see a way forward to loving the next thing) (but still, if you possibly can) write the next thing.

Even if the first thing sells, you’ll want the next thing one day. Writing the next thing is more writing practise, so it’ll make you better. Write the next thing.

Ultimately I’m really glad Long Live Evil was my comeback book. I think it needed to be. It took the time it took.

But maybe it was a shade of that past book (where the heroine’s sister with cancer was six, so not much like any of the Time of Iron characters) that made me think of the YA version of this book, which I always had in my mind as something I was intentionally hewing away from - a more straightforward book, a book that might have sold better - in which shy reader Alice was the hero. She’s the one with the suggestive hero name - Alice through the looking glass - the heroine looks, and the more projectable-upon personality. She’d get called annoying less often (though still some, because she’s a girl), partly because she is (with love, Rae knows I’m right) a genuinely less annoying person. Much kinder, much sweeter, and much better at in-depth reading! Her sister being in trouble would’ve been a backstory, a catalyst point, and - you’re totally right - a great motivation for her to get the Flower. Saving a family member is a much more sympathetic and heroic motivation than saving yourself and one I do love (the Hunger Games, Labyrinth, Mahy’s the Changeover, and I write it a lot!). I think Snarky While Tragically Dying Rae would’ve been a pretty popular side character, too. I think it would’ve been a good book! Just not mine.

I love your question because I love thinking about POV, and all the decisions that are the building blocks of a story. To me, the Alice centric Time of Iron is a version that exists. As are several versions of the Lia centric Time of Iron. And versions centring other characters exist to me, too. (Eric, absolutely.)

Speaking of POV musing, I think Rahela the wicked stepsister featured more in the musical than the book. If the Time of Iron series ever became a TV show (and at this point in time I think I’d rather a movie because it wouldn’t… get cancelled…) and I got to write it (don’t know why I would…) I would start with the beginnings for three characters about to go on a journey to somewhere strange to them: Key in the Cauldron, Rae in the hospital, and Vasilisa in the icelands. There are so many possibilities! And I really wanted the sense that there were so many possibilities, too.

But I wanted the chronically ill one to be the centre of the story, and for it to be her villain origin story, and to ask a lot of questions (hence a lot of villains!) about who gets villainised and why. And I thought hers, to my mind, would be the most fun of all the possible stories.

So that’s the one I made. But Long Live Evil has a lot of origins. Thank you for remembering one of them! I don’t think I would’ve dared tell the story, if things hadn’t worked out for me (so far, fingers crossed).

And I also tell it to be clear my publisher was taking a RISK with me and Long Live Evil, and I really appreciate that, and I’m so happy it’s worked out for them (again so far, early days, fingers crossed, etc).

I hope some writers - whether in the process of submission, rejection or making the choices that are the building blocks of story - find this helpful, and some readers find it interesting.

Let this be one of the universes in which your story is told.

[temporarywelcome]

Costumes - Spencer Reid

Words: 546 (short n sweet)

Summary: Spencer has a simple request, his girlfriend refusing

Warnings: swearing, suggestive (no smut)

A/N: i love spooky season

_______________

“I think we need to break up,” 

Y/N rolled her eyes at his words, looking back at the intense video game match she was in the middle of, “Dramatic much?”

Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, sitting next to her, “You’re really going to deny me of this? One thing I’ve wanted more than anything? I don’t ask much of you,” 

“I feel you should have pursued a career in the arts instead of me, dramatic as hell,” 

He huffed, “You didn’t do it last year, please do it this year. I’m begging.” 

“No thank you,”

“C’mon… Don’t you love me?” he groaned, nuzzling her neck lightly, arm snaking around her waist.

“If I die in this damn game I’ll knock your ass out,” 

Spencer laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, “Please? You act like I’m asking for a kidney.”

“Baby, if you need a kidney, I’ll gladly give you mine.”

“Then why won’t you freaking dress up for Halloween?” 

Yes. That’s what this was about. This is what was pissing him off. Spencer was a huge fan of Halloween, and he had presented his girlfriend with a huge list of activities for them to do for the upcoming month, Y/N was not interested in any of it.  She was all up for horror movies and scary games, but that was it.

Spencer wasn't having it.

She shrugged, “I have no interest.” 

“Come on, not even pumpkin carving? You’re more monstrous than the costumes,” he grumbled, pulling away. 

“I just don’t see the point. I spend most of my time pretending to be someone I’m not. That’s literally my job. Maybe I just want to be myself for the day, y’know?”

He blinked at her, before scoffing, “You’re yourself right now. Is that not enough? You can’t spend a few hours being Solnar the Great?”

She rolled her eyes, “I can’t even pick my own costume? I have to be some fantasy viking lady?”

“Well you said you didn’t even want to do it, might as well let me pick your costume,” he shrugged, “Or you could be Vatlia Starchild from The Adventures of-”

“Shit shit shit!” she started to shout, making him jump. Her character in the game was running away from the killer, her fingers spamming buttons on her controller, “I swear to God if I die in this game I’m going to beat your ass,”

“I’m not opposed to that,”

She paused, not even caring that her character got downed, “Oh fuck yeah-” she leaned in for a kiss but he stopped her.

“Halloween?” Spencer asked simply. A deal.

She realized what he was doing, eyes narrowing, “You’re evil,” Y/N grumbled, turning back to her game. 

“I’ll let you put my handcuffs on me,”

Another pause, “Hm…” 

“Enticing, right?” he said persuasively.

“Just one time?” 

He groaned, “Whenever you want,”

Y/N exited the game, a wicked look on her face, “You should have said that from the beginning, baby,” 

She went to pounce on him again but his hands went to her shoulders, once again stopping her, “We gotta do other holiday activities too,” 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she leaned forward, pressing kisses along his neck, “We’ll carve some stupid pumpkins. Now please get naked I’m begging,” 

________

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[jakeshands]

stars will fall

pairing, park sunghoon x fem! reader

synopsis, you’ve had a crush on park sunghoon for the longest time. all you’ve ever wanted was sunghoon to notice you, or at least pick you out of the dozen other girls throwing themselves at his feet. you can’t believe it takes a zombie apocalypse for him to notice you.

genre, zombie apocalypse au, aouad au, strangers (?) to lovers, mutual pining to lovers

warnings, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, swearing, lots of death, minor character death, open/ambiguous ending, reader gets cut with a knife, lots of mentions of blood, stabbing, mentions of guns.

word count, 16.4k

author’s note, heavily inspired by all of us are dead, like there might be some similiar scenes from aouad in this fic😨 please enjoy reading this it was A Lot To Write. i also watched a the last of us gameplay while writing this…so theres some tlou influence in this fic as well. maybe i’ll write a tlou au who knows?! also this fic is heavily unedited, pls mind my mistakes Lol! this fic is for daphne, ily the hoonerz to my jake🫶🫶

Your life is like a wave brushing against the shoreline. It’s full of routine. It’s full of gentle actions and gentle words. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Your life isn’t remarkable; you spend your days at school and in your apartment with your mother. You spend nights eating at the chicken restaurant your friend’s parents own. You study until you pass out. Rinse and repeat.

Your life is like a steady wave brushing against the shoreline. It’s a natural occurrence. You stay in the routine you’ve known your whole life. Wake up, take a shower, have breakfast with your mom, walk with Seeun to school, sit next to Kim Sunoo and listen in on his conversations hoping you’ll hear a word about Park Sunghoon, you sit with Seeun in the cafeteria at lunch and watch Park Sunghoon, you go back to class. After school you walk home with Seeun, study at the chicken restaurant her parents own, go to the karaoke booth next door for an hour, walk back to your apartment with Seeun, and study until you pass out. Rinse and repeat.

Today is nothing out of the ordinary. You kiss your mother goodbye and wait outside your apartment for Seeun. The door next to you swings open and Yoon Seeun steps out, a white ribbon tying her hair back. “Y/N!” Seeun cheers, reaching for your hand. “Sorry I’m late. Are you ready to go? I think we’ll have enough time to make it before they start handing out detention slips.”

You hum. “You better wish for that, Seeun. We’ve cut it close before, but never this close. C’mon, I want to at least get to school and have a few seconds to stare at Sunghoon from afar.”

Seeun giggles and you ignore her. You know what Seeun thinks of your crush, she thinks you should just confess your feelings to Sunghoon. “There’s no harm, Y/N!” Seeun’s always told you, but she just doesn’t get it. There’s so much to lose when it comes to facing someone like Park Sunghoon who was built by the hands of Earth.

Park Sunghoon is a widely-known name in the province. He’s an up-and-coming figure skater, his visuals are akin to the K-pop idols you see at university festivals, his body proportions are those of a model’s. His personality, well, that’s a part of the mystery called Park Sunghoon. His name may be widely spoken about, but no one has helpful information about Park Sunghoon. If he’s ever talked about, it’s either about his figure skating career, his looks, or his friends. Sunghoon’s never spoken to anyone outside of his family and close friends as far as you’re aware. You’ve been going to the same school as Sunghoon ever since you could remember and he’s always hung out with the same six boys.

Your crush on Sunghoon started when you were fourteen. Puberty was a crazy time for you. The girls and boys were maturing and separating into groups, it wasn’t the same anymore. You stuck with Seeun, of course, because she was the only friend you ever made. You remember the day you started liking Sunghoon with clarity. It was after school, you were at Seeun’s chicken restaurant and Sunghoon entered. He was laughing with his friends over something, and you swear you’ve never seen anyone laugh prettier than Sunghoon. It was like time had slowed as you watched Sunghoon laugh. It was then, you realized you wanted to see Park Sunghoon laugh for the rest of your life.

Too bad the world wasn’t on your side and as years passed, Sunghoon became more withdrawn and seeing him laugh became something of the past. Now, you rarely ever saw Sunghoon. The only times you were given chances to see Sunghoon was before school started and at lunchtime. You took those moments and cherished them.

You thought this year would change everything; you were assigned to sit beside Kim Sunoo, one of Park Sunghoon’s closest friends. But most of the year has passed and you haven’t said anything more than four sentences to Kim Sunoo. Darn you and your social awkwardness. Soon you’ll have to resign and admit the truth; you’re nothing more than another one of Park Sunghoon’s fangirls.

You and Seeun rush across the street and through the school’s gates hand-in-hand. Only a few minutes left until school starts and detention slips are handed out. Breathing heavily as you slow down into a walk, you glare at Seeun. “That was extremely close, See.”

Seeun rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Y/N. Let’s go find your loverboy.”

You did not get to see your loverboy that morning. You slouch in your seat that morning, pouting lightly as you drew random stars all over your textbook. You’ll always have lunchtime to stare at Sunghoon from afar and wonder what it would be like to sit next to him and listen to him laugh. Beside you, Sunoo stares out the window, sunlight washing across his face. You’ve always thought Sunoo was handsome. His visuals are sharp and fox-like, it’s no wonder he’s the most admired boy on campus behind Park Sunghoon. (He’s often referred to as the Handsome Oppa of your class.)

A chair scrapes back drawing your attention away from Sunoo. Kang Suyeon stands, her hands resting against the desk in front of her. Suyeon’s face was extremely pale and sweat dripped down the side of her face. “Excuse me, could I please go --” Suyeon couldn’t even finish her sentence because she faints and panic spreads through the classroom.

“Kim Sunoo! Kim Y/N!” The teacher gestures for you to help her lift Suyeon up. “Let’s go to the nurse’s office.” The teacher says after both of Suyeon’s arms are wrapped around your and Sunoo’s shoulders. Together, you and Sunoo struggle under Suyeon’s weight to take the fainted girl to the nurse’s office.

“Poor Suyeon,” Sunoo says gently, his eyes darting over to you, “I hope she’s okay.”

You nod slightly in response. “Me too.”

Entering the nurse’s office you freeze up -- why is Sunghoon here?

“Y/N?” Sunoo asks, looking at you questioningly. A blush spreads over your face and you stumble forward, placing Suyeon on the bed next to where another student lies, face also pale and sweating. Park Sunghoon and Sim Jaeyun stand next to the boy watching as Nurse Jeon checks whatever needs to be checked.

One look at Suyeon and Nurse Jeon glances at your teacher. “Another one?”

“What do you mean, Sooyoung?”

Nurse Jeon drags your teacher out of the office leaving you alone with Sunoo, Jaeyun, Sunghoon, and two unconscious students. Afraid to glance around the room, your eyes never leave Suyeon. Her chest rises and falls at a rapid rate, and she’s sweating more than she was in the classroom. You stare at her hands, the area around her cuticles was bleeding pretty badly. Suyeon must’ve been picking at her skin before she fainted.

“Did she also faint, Sunoo?” Jaeyun asks. “Joon also fainted. Fell right out of his seat.”

Sunoo nods. “Suyeon stood up to ask the teacher something, but fainted halfway through her sentence,” Sunoo glances at the doorway of the office and then leans across the bed Suyeon lay on, lowering his voice. “I heard a rumor a couple of days ago. Apparently, Suyeon’s pregnant.” Sunoo looks back at Suyeon, “that’s probably why she fainted.”

It’s silent for a few moments before Sunghoon snorts. “You don’t believe that bullshit rumor do you, Sunoo?”

“Hey!”

You hear a chuckle. Looking up, you find Sunghoon grinning as his shoulders move. He was laughing and your insides curl up. You’re finally hearing the laugh you’ve been dying to hear for years.

“You’ll be eating your words soon, Sunghoon,” Sunoo scowls. “Nurse Jeon will walk back in and check Suyeonie and say she’s pregnant. You’ll owe me ten thousand won.”

Sunghoon laughs again. You really like his laugh.

Suyeon jolts awake suddenly, shattering apart the joyful mood in the room as everyone jumps back. “Suyeon --” your voice stops sharply when Suyeon grips your wrist, her fingernails digging into your skin and you cry out. You use your other hand to try and pry off Suyeon’s hands but to no avail.

Another hand appears and helps pry off Suyeon’s hand. “Jaeyun,” Sunghoon calls out, “hold her down. You too, Sunoo.” He calls for nurse Jeon after, taking your wrist into his hand as blood trails down from where Suyeon’s nails had dug into your skin and drops onto the white bedsheet. His hand is warm. “You’re hurt.” His eyes dig into yours. You feel uncomfortable beneath Sunghoon’s gaze because it doesn’t hold the same warmth that was there when he talked to Sunoo.

“Right,” you say, your voice shaking.

Sunghoon leads you over to a chair as nurse Jeon subsides Suyeon with some sort of injection. Kneeling down in front of you, Sunghoon cleans and bandages up your wrist. Pressing lightly, he looks back up at you. “Replace the bandage with a new one tomorrow morning.”

“O-Okay.” You internally curse yourself. Why did you have to be so awkward around Sunghoon?

“Y/N,” Sunoo calls out, “it’s time for us to head back.”

Nodding your head, you scramble up out of your chair and step around Sunghoon. His touch burns your skin and your heart quickens. You pinch yourself. No. You weren’t dreaming but this certainly felt like a dream.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Suyeonie was gripping you really hard,” Sunoo asks, concern shining on his face.

You smile, your cheeks burning beneath his attention. “I’m okay Sunoo, thank you for asking.”

Sunoo beams. He really does remind you of the sun. “Seatmates care for each other!” Warmth floods your chest and your cheeks burn even more. Sunoo’s sincere words circle your mind even as you settle back down in your seat next to Sunoo.

—-

It was finally lunchtime. You watch Sunghoon from afar as he laughs with Lee Heeseung, throwing some food at the older boy. Beside you, Seeun admires the bandage Sunghoon placed on you. “Wow, this is like a relic, Y/N. I bet if you auction it off it could go for a high price. I don’t think anyone has ever been bandaged up by Sunghoon before.”

You huff and rip your wrist out of Seeun’s hands. “I forgot to say thank you to Sunghoon. I should probably go do that now because what if he thinks I’m impolite? Oh, I would never sleep at night if I knew he thought that.”

Seeun laughs. “Well, go on then, thank loverboy for bandaging you up. Gift him with a kiss while you’re at it.”

You scowl and take your eyes off Sunghoon. “Seeun, shut up.”

Seeun giggles and reaches out to pinch your cheeks. “Hey! It’s just a suggestion! And I didn’t mean on the lips, you crazy girl! The cheek would do just fine.”

You ignore Seeun and turn back around to stare at Sunghoon, only to find him gone. The table where he sits with his friends is abandoned and you slump, looking back at Seeun. “I missed my chance. Now he’s going to think I’m impolite for the rest of his life.”

Seeun laughs and rubs your back. “Y/N, I’m sure he doesn’t think that.”

You ignore Seeun and push the food in front of you around on your plate. “I’m doomed for eternity. He’ll probably tell Sunoo he thinks I’m impolite for not saying thank you to him and Sunoo will gossip about it and soon --”

You never get to finish your sentence because students rush into the cafeteria, terror plastered across their faces. Seconds later, you see the reason why they were terrified.

Zombies.

Zombies only ever existed in your imagination. They only ever existed in books, movies, and TV shows. Not once did you ever think you would be an active participant in a Zombie apocalypse. You couldn’t move a single muscle as you watch students around you scramble to the exit or get tackled to the ground by a hungry Zombie. Beside you, Seeun screams in terror.

The Zombies were grotesque. Their faces were mutilated; like someone had punched them over and over. Blood covered their faces, eyes were gorged out and hanging, teeth were missing, cheeks were cut open, the eyes that remained in the eyesockets were the darkest black you had ever seen, and their skin was a terrifying pale green color.

“Y/N!” Seeun screams, terrified.

You snap back into reality as the fire alarm goes off and the sprinklers turn on. You and everyone else in the cafeteria are drenched in seconds. You survey the carnage going on around you. Zombies were pouring in through every available entrance and exit. In all honesty, you believed that this would be where you would die.

Windows.

You pinpoint a window, and then a table beneath it. You could stack chairs on top of the desk. Grabbing Seeun, you both slip across the wet ground, narrowly avoiding the Zombies that were once people you knew. Seeun sobs loudly behind you, shrieking whenever a Zombie strayed too close to the both of you. Your main priority was Seeun, you needed her safe.

Reaching the window, you tell Seeun to help you push a table up against the wall. Behind you, screams of terror filled the silence. You heard snarling and bones cracking, you heard other students crying out the names of their friends dying in front of their eyes. You needed to get out. You needed to find safety -- an adult. You needed an adult.

Grabbing a chair, you climb onto the table and smash open a window. Seeun climbs onto the table next to you, her sobs now muffled by the palms of her hands. You place the chair on top of the table and step onto it peering out the window. It was safe. Far safer than the cafeteria. “You first,” you tell Seeun.

“Y/N --”

“Seeun,” you cut your friend off, gripping her tightly, “I need you safe. You’re going first.”

Seeun nods her head. “Okay. Okay. Me first.” With a shaky inhale, Seeun climbs onto the chair, grips the window pane, and pulls herself out of the cafeteria. “Your turn!” She calls out and relief floods your body. Glancing behind you, you see the carnage -- it’s a sight you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You drop down next to Seeun and grab her hand. “Let’s go to the nurse's office,” you say to Seeun. “Nurse Jeon will know what to do.” Together you both run away from the cafeteria and out into the courtyard, not expecting other places to be swarmed with Zombies -- but they were everywhere.

You begin to wonder how this was even possible -- where did the Zombie army come from? How were they able to turn that quickly? A Zombie lunges for both you and Seeun and with a quick yank, you pull the both of you away.

“Y/N!” Seeun calls out, but you ignore her. Surely Nurse Jeon is alive. She has to be. If not, maybe you and Seeun could seek refuge in the nurse’s office. You drag Seeun toward one of the entrances to the school building, but it’s immediately blocked by Zombies. You divert to another path, but come up short and terror begins to flood your body at a faster rate.

You didn’t want to die -- you couldn’t. You still had so much left to do.

But everywhere you went, there were Zombies and at every wall, Seeun sobbed louder. Anger and terror flood your veins, it blinds you, and you take Seeun down to a quieter place. Leaning against the wall, you turn to Seeun. “Seeun --”

“Y/N,” Seeun interrupts, “it’s hopeless.”

“Seeun, don’t say that,” you say, taking her other hand into yours. “I’ll look for another way in -- surely there’s a window we can climb into --”

“Y/N!” You’ve never heard Seeun scream louder. Suddenly, you’re yanked behind Seeun and watching a Zombie tackle Seeun to the ground. The world slows. There’s a loud ringing in your ears as you watch the terror occurring in front of you. Seeun’s screaming, desperately reaching for you, but you can’t hear her. You drop to your knees and crawl forward. Tears drop onto your hands. You didn’t even know you were crying. When did you start crying?

Desperately, you try to pull the Zombie off Seeun but it’s no use. You aren’t strong enough. The world is still quiet. Seeun stills beneath the Zombie, her hand falling limply to the ground. The Zombie’s eyes focus on you and you give in. This is how you die. Abruptly, there’s another hand on your shoulder that slips down to your forearm and is yanking you up onto your feet.

“Y/N!” Someone shouts right next to you. Everything slams back in focus and you finally hear everything -- you hear someone sobbing loudly but Seeun’s dead? Who is the one crying now? You touch your face. Oh, you’re the one crying.

You’re yanked forward as the Zombie pounces your way. You stumble over your feet, but the hand on your forearm keeps you steady. You focus on your savior; silver hair, long legs, and a familiar warm grip. It’s Park Sunghoon -- what was Park Sunghoon doing?

You try to say something, but all that comes out is a sob. You don’t know what is happening. One moment you were sitting in the cafeteria with Seeun, and the next you were watching her die. Your arm hangs limp in Sunghoon’s grip as he drags you through the outside of the school. Zombies and lifeless bodies litter the ground. Loud screaming and snarls fill the air and you wonder if Seeun could make it out of this alive even if you did just watch her die. Seeun can’t be dead. Sure, you saw her arm fall to the ground, but Sunghoon had pulled you away too soon.

Seeun can’t be dead. With that thought, you rip your arm out of Sunghoon’s hold causing the older boy to top in his tracks. He whirls around, eyes wide as he focuses all his attention on you. In another situation, you would be frozen beneath this kind of attention, but right now, all you want is Seeun by your side once more.

“Y/N --”

“Seeun’s not dead. I need to go back for her.” You like to think you sound more articulate and calm, but all that comes out are sobs and jumbled-up words. You watch Sunghoon’s eyes droop in sympathy. “Seeun -- she’s not -- she can’t be --”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon takes your hand. “I’m sorry. But we have to keep moving. They’re waiting for us.” He springs back into action with you following behind, sobbing even louder. You don’t even remember how you make it into the school building. Tears fill your vision and Seeun’s death is repeated in your mind. The more you watch it, the more hopelessness fills you. Seeun’s really dead. There’s no denying it anymore. Seeun’s dead and you just watched her die.

The running stops. Sunghoon bangs on a door and it slides open. You and Sunghoon step into a familiar classroom filled with unfamiliar faces. Sunghoon drops your hand and helps whoever was behind you stack the chairs back on top of the desks keeping the door shut.

Once again, ringing fills your ears and the world quietens around you. Seeun’s death is still playing in your mind. Your eyes drop down to look at your hands, and you see the blood that wasn’t there before. You wail loudly and drop to your knees, bunching up your skirt and hurriedly scrubbing off the blood from your hands. It doesn’t work. The blood won’t come off your hands and you continue to sob.

There are voices.

“...Sunghoon what the fuck….”

“....../N? Why is she here, Sunghoon? You said you were getting…..”

“......just pick up random people!”

“….is she doing? Someone stop her, Y/N……”

Hands pull your skirt away. The rubbing stops and you look up. Sunghoon’s kneeling in front of you again, his mouth poised to speak when you shriek and scramble back from Sunghoon, your butt sliding across the floor. “Don’t touch me!”

Silence rings through the room.

You finally glance around the room. Lee Heeseung. Park Jongseong. Sim Jaeyun. Nishimura Riki. Kim Sunoo. Yang Jungwon. All of Sunghoon’s friends are gathered in one room. And now you’re here. You’re here, and Seeun’s out there. Lying all alone. You’re alive and Seeun’s dead and you watched. You watched Seeun die. Hot tears stream down your face and you desperately wipe them away with the back of your hand, not caring if blood is smeared across your face.

“Y/N,” it’s Sunoo. Your sweet seatmate settles in front of you. He reaches out and guides your hand away from your face, wiping the tears himself. There’s a gentle smile on his face. “You’re safe now.”

You ignore the purposeful cough after Sunoo’s words. You can worry about safety later -- for now, you’re in a classroom that isn’t full of Zombies. “Sunoo,” your voice cracks and you lean forward, your cheek pressed to Sunoo’s chest as he wraps you into a hug. “Seeun’s dead.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Sunoo’s hand rubs your back. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a loud bang on the door and everyone in the room jumps. Sunoo squeezes you tightly, his chest not moving beneath your cheek. The silence in the room is overwhelming. Seconds pass and there’s no other bang. “Let’s get you up, Y/N, come on.” Sunoo helps you up, wiping your face with his hands again.

Sunoo helps you to a chair, and as soon as you sit down, you notice everyone in the room looking at you. Bowing your head, the tips of your ears turn red.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says and you peer at him. “Are you okay?”

Nishimura Riki snorts. “That’s a stupid question to ask, Sunghoon.”

“What else am I supposed to ask? ‘How’s your day going so far?’”

Jaeyun snorts, clearly amused but covers it up with a cough.

Sunghoon looks back at you, but you avert your eyes, opting to stare at your shoes instead. A heavy silence settles over the group. Noises that were still unfamiliar to you floated through the open window in the classroom. Goosebumps spread over your skin as you hear heavy footsteps run down the hallway. Everything happened so fast that you’re still running the events that lead up to this moment through your head.

The cafeteria. You were watching Sunghoon. Seeun was beside you. The Zombies came and you escaped out a window with Seeun.

The back exterior wall of a building. You and Seeun. Watching Seeun die. Sunghoon appears out of nowhere and drags you with him to some kind of safety.

The classroom. You’re with Sunghoon. And Sunoo. And their friends -- the friends everyone talks about. The world is muffled around you once more and your breathing grows shallow -- how are you supposed to get home? How are you supposed to look Seeun’s parents in the eye and tell her their daughter is dead and you watched.

“Y/N?” Sunoo’s gentle fingers brush hair behind your ear. He looks concerned as he holds your chin between his fingers. “Hey, it’s okay.” It’s not okay -- you don’t think it will ever be okay because Seeun’s gone. Your best friend is gone. And you hate how her death is the only thing you can see whenever you close your eyes.

You tune back into the conversation happening beside you. Jongseong sounds exasperated. “We’ll stay here until tomorrow. We have no plan, Heeseung. And Sunghoon decided to add one more person to our party of seven.” Jongseong sounds more than exasperated, he sounds resentful. You curl into yourself even more because it wasn’t like you asked to join Sunghoon, he was the one who pulled you away from your death sentence.

“Having Y/N doesn’t mean the end of the world, Jongseong,” Jaeyun says, sighing after his sentence. “Since Sunghoon brought her here, she’s his burden.”

Burden. That’s all you were to these seven boys. A burden. And no one wants to bear the burden.

Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your school cardigan and stand up. The chair scrapes against the ground and all attention is pulled to you once again. You stalk over to the corner of the classroom and slide down the wall, curling up into a ball, and pressing your face against your legs desperate to sleep because when you wake up, hopefully, you’ll be back in your seat beside Sunoo with the sun shining on your face and Seeun’s familiar giggles floating through the classroom.

—-

It’s night when you pull your face away from your legs. It’s gotten oddly quieter, the only noises are from the Zombies. Looking out into the darkened classroom, you find Jaeyun, Riki, Heeseung, and Sunoo playing a card game, using the light from the lamp outside the classroom as a way to see.

Someone drops down beside you. Park Sunghoon. He holds out half a slice of Tiramisu wordlessly. He holds the other half. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until it was in your mouth. Instantly, you’re savoring the flavor and your taste buds are begging for more.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, his voice low.

You shrug. You didn’t know the answer to that question because you were feeling so much that it felt like nothing. Turning your head slightly you stare at Sunghoon, his silver hair standing out in the dark classroom. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone as perfect as Park Sunghoon. It was like his existence was written in the stars because no one has ever shone as brightly as he has. Sunghoon has everything anyone’s ever wanted.

“I’m sorry about Seeun,” Sunghoon says again, his eyes meeting yours.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your finger tracing shapes on the dirty ground beneath you. Sunghoon’s uniform looks perfect like he had just put it on. His shoes, though, give it all away. They’re bloody, just like your skirt and your hands. “Can I call my mom?” You hate how your voice trembles. “I miss her. I want to hear her voice.”

“Oh,” Sunghoon glances over to his friends playing cards in the lamplight. “We don’t have any phones with us, Y/N.”

“Oh.” Your eyes burn again and you blink them away. You’re starting to grow sick of crying. “Do we know anything about this situation at all?”

Sunghoon shakes his head and his knee bumps yours. You feel the familiar warmth you felt back in the nurse’s office when Sunghoon bandaged you up.

The Nurse’s office.

“Sunghoon,” you start tentatively, his name rolling out of your mouth awkwardly. “What about Suyeon and Joon?”

Sunghoon looks at you confused.

“This morning. They both fainted and looked really pale and were sweating lots and what if they’re patient zero and one and --” Your heartbeat increases with each word you say, and it peaks as Sunghoon interrupts your sentence by grabbing your arm and peeling off your bandage.

Where there were four bloody scratches before, there was now nothing. It was as if you had never been scratched.

Your heart stills and you look up at Sunghoon who was already looking at you. “Sunghoon, I --”

A loud thud interrupts you. And another. And another. The silence in the classroom is loud. Sunghoon’s hand tightens around your wrist. Terror seeps through your blood and you adjust your position on the floor to be closer to Sunghoon.

Then, it happens all too fast; the window on the door to the classroom is smashed open and somehow, all the chairs stacked up on the table in front of the door go tumbling down onto the ground revealing a young boy. The snarling of the Zombies grows louder and the young boy, bleeding and terrified, pulls himself through the broken window of the door.

“Taki?” Nishimura Riki knows the boy. He’s looking at the unfamiliar boy with excitement, relief, and apprehension.

Turning around, the boy smiles when he spots Riki. “Riki! Hey!” He holds up his hand and waves and that’s when you, and everyone else see it. A bite. His hand is bloody and there, clear as daylight, is a bite.

Sunghoon’s hand is firmer around your wrist when he pulls you up off the ground. You keep your eyes on the scene unfolding in front of you -- Taki waving enthusiastically with a wide smile while Riki regards him in disbelief which turns into sadness.

“Taki,” Riki starts softly as Sunghoon leads you over to the rest of the group. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Riki!” Taki replies, still cheerful as ever.

The groans and snarls of Zombies grow even closer.

“Taki,” Riki says again, his voice still soft and eyes shining in the dark.

“Yeah?”

The first tear falls down Riki’s cheek. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“You’re mine too!” That’s when you notice it: Taki’s skin is beginning to turn green. Beside you, Heeseung and Jongseong exchange words in a low mumble.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, “his skin. Look.”

“Y/N,” you look up at Sunghoon, his eyes rake over your face and even though you’re in the middle of imminent death, you feel warm. “Stick close.” His fingers brush over your wrist and somehow your stomach is still able to produce butterflies.

Heeseung walks closer to where Riki and Taki stand and lays a hand on Riki’s shoulder. “Riki,” Heeseung speaks, “we can’t stay here.” Behind you, a window clicks open. The tension in the room rises and you begin to feel unsettled. The groans of the Zombies are closer than ever.

“Heeseung --”

“Riki. We have to go.” Heeseung’s voice is hard and you see his hand digging into Riki’s shoulders.

“But Taki --”

“We can’t save him, Riki.”

There’s a loud snarl and that’s when you see it. One of the many Zombies crowding the door’s broken window. Flashes of Seeun’s death run through your mind and you can’t breathe. This feels all too scary and you want to escape. You want to go home. You want to be walking to school with Seeun again. You want to be fourteen and see Park Sunghoon laugh for the first time again.

“Riki? What’s going on?” Taki is confused. He doesn’t realize his skin is turning a light shade of green. He doesn’t notice the black liquid pouring out of his eyes. He doesn’t realize how black his eyes are turning. Taki steps closer as Riki and Heeseung step back.

“Taki,” Riki’s sob is heartbreaking. You hate this, you hate watching Riki have to come to terms with the fact his friend is turning into a Zombie. “You’ve been bitten.” Riki’s voice is thick as he speaks through the tears pouring down his face.

“What? No I’m not. Why are you saying these things, Riki?”

Behind you there’s movement. Glancing over your shoulder you find Yang Jungwon climbing out the window and slipping into the night.

There’s another thud and you find Taki on the ground with Heeseung gripping Riki tightly as the younger sobs loudly, adding more noise to snarling and groaning coming from the Zombies pressed up against the locked door.

In the next second, Taki is rising up from the floor and launching himself at Heeseung and Riki. Riki’s thrown out of the way and Heeseung tackles Taki down onto the floor. It’s like the Zombies are excited with the way they throw themselves at the door, eager to enter the room and take down the seven occupying the room.

There’s a flurry of movement behind you and you watch as Jongseong ushers Sunoo out the window. “You have to be careful, Sunoo,” Jongseong warns the boy, “one wrong move and you’re dead.”

Sunoo snorts. “That’s assuring, thanks, Jongseong.” And Sunoo’s gone, slipping into the night the same way Jungwon did. Suddenly, you’re being ushered forward, Jongseong’s sharp eyes slipping to you and immediate disdain creeps over his face.

“Y/N next,” Sunghoon demands from behind you.

“Sung--”

“She’s next.” Sunghoon’s voice leaves no room for argument and Jongseong huffs. You wonder how they both could be so calm in a situation like this. Behind you, you hear Heeseung grunt and Taki, the newly turned Zombie, growl. Riki’s sobs are loud and Jaeyun’s calming words aren’t doing anything to subdue the younger.

“What do I do?” You ask hesitantly, your voice quiet under Jongseong’s gaze.

“Climb out of the window and across to the broadcasting club’s room.”

Sunghoon’s hand slips from your wrist as Jongseong pulls you harshly towards the desk in front of the window. You look at him expectantly. “What?” Jongseong asks, “do you want to die?” You steal a glance at the horde of Zombies still pushing up against the door, their arms reaching through the window. You look at Heeseung, his school uniform getting torn beneath Taki’s needy hands, Jaeyun and Riki on the ground, and Sunghoon, who is behind you frowning.

When you look back at Jongseong, there’s shock hidden in his eyes. You wonder how he was able to figure out what you were thinking. You seriously wouldn’t mind dying right now. Jongseong’s reaching out and pulling you closer to him. You’ve never been this close to him. He looks extremely handsome.

“You’re not dying Y/N,” he whispers harshly, it’s hard to hear him over the noise echoing throughout the classroom. “And if you do die, it’ll be my own hands.” You never do get to ask Jongseong what he means because he’s pushing you towards the window and forcing you out. “Hold on, Y/N, and don’t look down. You’ll know when you’re at the broadcasting room because Jungwon will be waiting for you.”

The coldness of the night seeps through your school uniform. It does nothing to make the sweat on your hands evaporate, though. The ledge is not wide enough for a school kid to be inching their way across the outside of the school building. There’s little to nothing for your hands to grab onto and you don’t heed Jongseong’s advice. Looking down was your greatest mistake.

You’re so far up, and everywhere you look there’s a Zombie walking. One wrong step and you’re dead. You’re dead, and you won’t ever see Sunghoon again. One wrong step, and you’ll see Seeun again. Pushing yourself against the cool wall, you squeeze your eyes shut as tears form again. You didn’t want to be here in this situation. How did this all even happen? How did people you know turn into bloodthirsty monsters?

Opening your eyes, you see what Jongseong had meant when he told you Jungwon would be waiting for you. Light floods through an open window and there Yang Jungwon was, with fiery red hair, peering at you as he leans out of the window.

You don’t know much about Yang Jungwon; you just know the basics. He’s class president and head of the taekwondo club. He’s very good friends with Kang Taehyun and he works at a cat cafe. He’s also Park Sunghoon’s neighbor.

You inch your way over to the broadcasting club’s room, your hands sweatier than they’ve ever been. The horror that lay beneath you kept your heart rate beating at a rapid speed and kept terror streaming through your bloodstream.

Jungwon helps you into the broadcasting room, it’s much nicer in here and you spy a few water bottles resting on the desk. Instantly, you’re reminded of how thirsty you are. “Can we drink that?” You ask, making eye contact with Sunoo who spins around on a chair, his fingers fidgeting with whatever was in his lap.

“Go for it,” Sunoo says, “I think there’s enough for the eight of us.”

Riki is the next to join the three of you with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. Sunoo, with pitying eyes, hands Riki a tissue box and gently cards a hand through the younger boy’s hair. Riki instantly melts into Sunoo’s touch and you feel your heart tugging in despair for the boy.

Jaeyun follows after Riki also looking incredibly disheveled. He converses with Jungwon in a low voice and you begin to grow restless waiting for the remaining three boys. It hasn’t even been a full day and you’re already exhausted. You’re ready for this to all be some kind of fucked up prank because you can’t take this anymore. You want to survive to see your mom again, but you’re already tired that the thought of giving yourself to the Zombies doesn’t scare you as much anymore.

Jongseong is the next to join. He doesn’t look happy, “they forced me to go. The door is about to break down and Taki’s only just been restrained --” There’s a loud cry, silence, and then a bone-shattering thud. You, along with the five boys, crowd the window and look out into the dead night. Someone’s lying on the pavement, their limbs bent in awkward angles and your breath catches.

Riki’s the first to turn away, Jaeyun following after. Sunoo’s hand snakes around your elbow and pulls you away from the window. “Come on, Y/N, let’s go sit and wait.” You could hear the desperation in Sunoo’s voice so you comply, also desperate for some sort of distraction from the fear telling you that body was Sunghoon.

“Sunoo,” you say in a hushed voice, your knees pulled up to your chest, “I was talking to Sunghoon before. We know nothing about what’s going on but what if Suyeon and Joon were the ones who started it? Think about it, Sunoo.” You were desperate to have some kind of answer because maybe then you could figure out a way to end this all, to bring everyone infected back.

Sunoo stares at you, his face morphing through many emotions. That was one thing you always loved about Sunoo, he was always transparent about how he felt. “Y/N,” Sunoo says in amazement, “oh my god. Suyeonie. She was pale, but I thought she looked kind of green, and Joon -- they were both sweating a lot and then --” his eyes drop to your wrist that was no longer bandaged.

“Y/N,” you immediately hide your wrist from Sunoo. “Y/N, Suyeon made you bleed.” His eyes meet yours and you see the fear.

“Sunoo --”

“Heeseung!” Jungwon exclaims, hurriedly pulling the oldest through the window. Seconds later, Sunghoon also lands in the broadcasting room and his eyes immediately seek you out. His and Heeseung’s uniforms were in tatters. There were big gaping holes in their blazers and buttons missing, blood covering their pants and white blouses, and their ties had been ripped off.

“Are you okay, Heeseung? Sunghoon?” Jaeyun asks, “you aren’t hurt?”

Behind them, Jongseong slams the window shut quite loudly, and follows it up with a loud shout of “fuck!” The response from the Zombies is almost instant -- they begin to snarl and groan, moving in the direction of the window that had just been shut.

Of course -- no one pays attention to that response except for Jaeyun who furrows his eyebrows.

Jungwon hands Jongseong the last water bottle full of water. “This is all we have,” Jungwon speaks gently, “we’ll need to venture out tomorrow to find supplies. We can’t stay in here forever.”

“There was plenty of food in that classroom,” Sunoo says forlornly. “Everyone’s bags had secret snacks for nighttime studying.”

“We also need a phone,” Sunghoon speaks up, “some form of communication. We’re in the dark, we have no clue what’s going on, and,” Sunghoon cuts himself off, sighing deeply, “there may be. .Infections beyond the school.”

Everyone inhales sharply, their worst fear coming true.

Jongseong slumps down in defeat, hanging his head. “Jungwon’s right. We can’t stay here forever. We have to leave and try and reach somewhere safe, like a quarantine camp. But first, we need a phone.”

“The only information I know is that Suyeon and Joon may have started the outbreak at school, but how they got it themselves is still a mystery,” Sunghoon continues, his eyes holding yours.

“How do you know that, Hoon?” Heeseung asks, resting beside Jongseong.

“Because when they were in the infirmary they were acting weird,” Sunghoon says, “before Joon knocked himself out, he was moving weirdly and always trying to bite Jaeyun and I. I don’t know much about Suyeon, but I know when she woke up, she grabbed onto Y/N and made her bleed.”

All attention is directed back to you again.

“I bandaged her up, the scratches were pretty bad. Before Taki came, I checked her wrist. The scratches aren’t there anymore. It’s almost like she wasn’t scratched.”

The silence is too loud.

“Suyeon’s fingers were bleeding,” Sunoo says in a hushed voice, “when she scratched Y/N, her blood must’ve come into contact with Y/N’s.”

“So, Y/N’s a Zombie,” Riki says.

“What?” You croak, taken aback by the accusation. “No. I’m not.”

“We don’t know that Y/N,” Jongseong backs up Riki. Of course he does. “You could be some weird evolved Zombie for all we know.”

You scowl, hot anger surging through your veins suddenly. You don’t know where the change in mood came from. “If I were a Zombie, you’d be dead already, Jongseong.”

Jongseong scoffs. “You wouldn’t even be able to land a single finger on me. I’d take you down before you even get the chance to bite me. You’re weak compared to me, Y/N.”

All you see is red. It’s like you don’t have control of your own mind as you lunge for Jongseong ready to prove him wrong. Before you could even touch the boy, an arm wraps around your waist and holds you back. You struggle in the person’s arms, and you spit at the ground in front of Jongseong. “I’ll kill you,” your mouth is moving without your consent and spitting out words you don’t want to say. “I’ll fucking kill you.” With one last struggle, you’re pushing arms holding you back from Jongseong off you. The next thing you hear is a loud thud and a groan.

Glancing over your shoulder you see Sunghoon crumpled up on the ground, the locker that stood behind him was caved in, marking how he was flung into the metal. You stop breathing and register the silence and eyes staring at you in terror.

“I think Jongseong’s right,” Jungwon speaks up. “We can’t trust you, Y/N.”

“I’m not a Zombie,” your hands clench, fingernails pressing into your palm. “I don’t even know how I did that!”

“We can’t trust you,” Jungwon repeats. “But I don’t think we should be pushing you out to be with the Zombies,” he gestures to the recording booth. “Go in there.”

“You want me in the recording booth?”

“Just until morning. If by morning, you haven’t changed or done something weird, we’ll let you out, but, if something happens overnight, we’re leaving you here for good.” Jungwon’s tone sounds final and you can’t find it in you to rebut his idea because, if you think about it logically, it’s what’s best for both you and the seven boys.

Entering the recording room with Jungwon locking you in, it grows deathly quiet. You’re alone with your thoughts for the first time today and you don’t know what to do.

—-

“Y/N.” You don’t know how much time has passed when Sunghoon steps into the recording room. Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice and immediately you’re spewing your apologies. You didn’t mean to throw Sunghoon into the lockers. You hope he’s not too injured, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep at night knowing you had hurt Sunghoon unintentionally.

Something of a smile appears on Sunghoon’s face as he sits in front of you. “It’s okay, Y/N, I know you didn’t mean to push me that hard.” His hand reaches for your wrist and you let him take it, his fingertips gently tracing the patch of skin that was once covered by scratches.

“Sunghoon?” You ask, not raising your voice above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Are you scared?”

It’s silent for a moment. The moonlight washes over Sunghoon’s face and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone this badly before. “Of you? Never,” came Sunghoon’s response, and your body burns. It burns so intensely you can’t breathe.

“Oh. I was asking if you were scared of the situation. Not me.”

Sunghoon looks up at you, his hand slipping from your wrist to hold your hand. “Oh. I meant what I said, Y/N. You don’t scare me.”

You smile softly. You don’t know how, but being with Sunghoon like this brings some sense of comfort to you. “Oh. Thank you, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon smiles softly. It’s the first real smile you’ve seen on his face since this whole Zombie situation began. Warmth settles in your stomach and your shoulders sag, the weight you were carrying around slides off. “Are you okay, Y/N? How are you feeling?”

You snort lightly. ”That’s like the third time you’ve asked me if I was okay.”

“I ask because I care, Y/N.”

“Oh. Sunghoon, I--” you stare at Sunghoon, unblinking. Your stomach feels weird. It’s way too loud in the recording booth and you want out. You slip your hand out of Sunghoon’s and push your face into your legs. Did Sunghoon know about your feelings? Or was he being honest? You couldn’t believe that you were at the beginning of a Zombie apocalypse and still thinking about Sunghoon and how much you liked him.

“Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, sounding hesitant.

“I’m okay,” you mumble.

“Okay.” Awkward tension floats through the room. You don’t make any move to disperse the awkwardness and instead, you let it simmer.

“Right, I came in here because Sunoo told us the debate team was supposed to go on their annual school trip tomorrow, but obviously that isn’t going to happen, but in the classroom where they meet up, there’s a cupboard full of food and some water,” Sunghoon tells you and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk this hesitantly before.

You look back up at Sunghoon and instantly regret it because he’s so beautiful. “Oh. Okay. Do you have a plan yet? Am I even included in that plan? Because I can leave you all alone if you want. It might be easier since I’m probably a burden to you.”

Sunghoon stares at you. He stares at you for a long time that it becomes uncomfortable. “Do you think you’re a burden, Y/N?”

You shrug half-heartedly. “It’s easy to tell when I’m not wanted.”

“You’re wanted, Y/N,” Sunghoon says intently, his eyes never drifting away from yours.

You don’t say anything in response. How could that be true? It’s clear to see you’re a burden in the way the boys regard you, it’s clear to see you’re a burden in the way Jongseong talks to you, and it’s clear to see you’re a burden when you heard Jaeyun’s words.

“Y/N. .” Sunghoon says softly. You’ve never heard him speak like that before. It’s gentle like he’s coaxing a cat from underneath a car. It’s a comforting voice, one that makes you want to dive into and soak forever in. “You’re wanted.”

You scoff and look away, your heart tremors beneath your ribcage. Butterflies bloom and stick themselves to your gut. “How do I know you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

There’s a pause.

“Because I --” Sunghoon falters. His eyes slide away from your face and you feel your heart burn. “You should get some sleep, Y/N.”

“Right. Of course. Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.”

You don’t get any sleep that night.

—-

You’re allowed out of the recording booth when you wake up. You’re still regarded with caution, but you don’t care, you’re just glad to be out of the room. Sitting on the floor next to Sunoo, you listen to the conversation happening around you. They’re discussing a way to get to the debate room without alerting any Zombies to their presence.

“I have useful information if anyone wants to hear it,” Jaeyun says, raising his hand.

“What is it, Jaeyun?” Heeseung asks. “We’ll take anything at this point.”

“I think I know how to get past the Zombies.”

Everyone leans in and listens eagerly. “Sound attracts Zombies,” Jaeyun starts to explain. “And we’re in the broadcasting room. This is where the morning school announcements are made which means there are speakers all over school connected to this exact room. So, if we play a song, all the Zombies will move to wherever that sound is coming from. It’ll give us a clear path to the debate room.”

“I love it when you speak like that, Jaeyun,” Sunghoon comments, wearing a teasing smile. Seems like someone got a goodnight's sleep, you think bitterly to yourself. You were so sure Sunghoon was going to say something last night that was going to completely change your relationship. You were proven wrong, though.

“Someone needs to stay back though, right?” Riki asks, “because who will turn off the music?”

“I’m sure we can keep it going until it stops,” Sunoo pipes up.

“Yeah, but how will it stop?” Riki presses, “there’s no timer. It would keep on playing and we’d all go crazy.”

“I don’t think any of us should separate from the group,” Jungwon says firmly. “Separation is the last thing we want to do now.”

“What song should we play?” You ask, “because I suggest Red Velvet. Playing Zimzalabim would be so funny.”

Beside you, Sunoo giggles.

“I was gonna suggest Ring Ding Dong by SHINee,” Riki says, a wicked grin appearing.

“We’re immediately vetoing that idea,” Jongseong says, scowling in Riki’s direction.

“What about classical music?” Sunghoon asks, “that shit doesn’t get too repetitive, right? It’s just a bunch of instruments playing over and over again. No lyrics, just vibes.”

“No lyrics, just vibes,” Jongseong mimics and Sunghoon whacks him in retaliation.

“Let’s try to find some music, surely they have some in here,” Jaeyun says, standing up.

“First, I need to use the toilet,” Riki announces. “Should I pee out the window?” Riki earns disgusted groans in return and a small giggle from you.

“No. No peeing out of windows,” Jongseong says firmly. “We may be in an apocalypse but that doesn’t mean we don’t do our best to remain hygienic. We need to set up some kind of toilet, maybe in the recording booth? We’re not going to use it anymore, right?”

“I sure hope not,” you mutter, folding your arms over your chest. “Because there’s no way I’m going back in there under suspicion with it smelling like shit and piss.”

“The recording booth it is,” Jungwon says, “I did boy scouts when I was younger, let me build the toilet.”

“Me too!” Sunoo pipes up, eagerly pushing himself off the ground, “I was your group leader, remember Wonie?”

Jungwon’s smile is fond as he remembers his past memories, and together he and Sunoo begin to build the make-shift toilet. All around you, everyone falls into conversation to pass the time leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

You begin to wonder how hard you had pushed Sunghoon to make a dent in the metal lockers to the left of you. In fact, you’re 100% certain you aren’t even that strong. You’re pretty weak so for you to be able to make a permanent mark on metal terrifies and oddly intrigues you -- what more can you do? Surely the small bit of blood on Suyeon’s that infected your bloodstream carries some kind of weird mutation causing you to be this way -- you hope you get answers soon because all this uncertainty is driving you insane.

“Get a good sleep, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, sitting down in front of you.

“Yeah. You?”

Sunghoon hums. “The best I could get.” There’s a lull in the conversation. You immediately think back to earlier in the recording booth -- you were so sure Sunghoon was going to confess, or something because the way he was looking at you, and the way he was phrasing his words, made you believe. It made you find hope in this bleak apocalypse. “How are you feeling?”

You give Sunghoon a deadpan look. “This question? Again?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I think it’s warranted in a situation like this.”

You smile softly. “Yeah. I suppose. And I’m feeling a bit nervous because we don’t know what’s out there. I hope Jaeyun’s right. I hope this plan works. I hope --” you sigh heavily, your chin resting on your knee.

Sunghoon reaches forward and takes your hand into his. “We’ll make it, Y/N.”

“Okay,” Jungwon and Sunoo step out of the recording booth. “Who is first?”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says loudly, “ladies first. People who need to shit go last.”

“Riki, you’re going last then!”

“Shut the fuck up Sunoo.”

It took quite a while for all seven boys to use the toilet. After numerous rock-paper-scissor games and fights, Heeseung left the recording booth with the nastiest look on his face. “When we make it to a safety zone you all better sleep with one eye open.”

“Even me?” You ask, pouting.

“They’ll call me Misogynist Heeseung.”

“Alright, Misogynist Heeseung, do the honors,” Jaeyun gestures to the booth, “go back in there and turn on the music.”

Heeseung hisses at Jaeyun and turns on his heel, taking a deep breath before entering the recording booth once more and turning on the classical music you’d found in one of the dented lockers. With the first note of Four Seasons playing, the school speakers become a target for the Zombies limping through the school grounds.

You, along with the others, watch out the window in awe. Jaeyun was right, Zombies are attracted to sound.

“It’s showtime,” Jongseong rolls his shoulders back and rolls his sleeves up. “I will do anything to make it to the room of treasures even if it means leaving you weaklings behind.”

It’s silent. Overwhelmingly silent.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Yeah,” Riki hums, “we all know you’d be the first to die.”

“We’re running out of time, let’s go already,” groans Sunoo heading over to the door. “I’m opening up this damn door and running all the way to the debate room. I am about to eat Y/N/’s hair.”

You touch your hair, frowning. “Why my hair? Why not Jaeyun’s?”

Sunoo shrugs. “First name that came to mind was yours. Okay, opening the door in 3. . 2. . 1 --”

“-- WAIT --���

Sunoo wrenches open the door.

Nothing happens.

There’s a pause in the music. And then it starts all over again.

The look Sunoo gives the rest of the group is one of pure jubilation. “Last one to the debate room is Zombie bait for our next mission!” And then he’s flying out the door, Jaeyun and Jongseong shouting after him.

“Do they think the music will drown out the noise they’re making?” Jungwon asks with a shake of his head. “Stupid. Idiots. All of them are.” He steps out the door, Heeseung following behind. Sunghoon reaches for your hand and smiles down at you. Behind you, Riki groans, “keep the heart eyes to a minimum around me, please.”

“Let’s go, Y/N.”

Stepping out, you stare around you in amazement. Zombies are desperately trying to reach for the speaker, climbing and standing on top of each other to try and satiate their hunger. At the end of the hallway stood the rest of the ground. Jaeyun was holding Sunoo by his collar.

“We have to climb up two flights of stairs,” Jungwon explains quietly, but loud enough for you to all hear over the music. “Be aware of your surroundings. There might be a few Zombies who haven’t gone towards the speakers.” With one final shared look, you begin your long ascent to the room full of food and water.

You were nearing the end. Sunghoon’s hand was tightly gripping yours and you could see your final destination in sight. You realized you truly had nothing to worry about because Jaeyun’s plan was foolproof --

And then you’re being yanked back by your hair.

With a loud shriek, you go flying backward, your hand losing Sunghoon’s. Pain explodes as you land on your back harshly. Standing above you with their hand still curled in your hair is Joon. The boy from the nurse’s office. His face is bloody and there’s a long cut down the middle of his face, the sight of it makes you retch. His eyes are the darkest black you’ve ever seen.

“Sunghoon!” You cry out, desperate to get away. Your stomach churns and you wonder why Joon specifically targeted you, and how Joon was still a functioning human. Reaching up, you try to pry Joon’s hands away from your hair, but he was too strong.

Snarling, the older boy yanks your head back harder, a harsh pulsing pain beats rapidly against your skull. Is this how you die?

“Joon?” Jake sounds astonished. “You’re alive?”

You had no clue what was going on. Fear creeps into your bloodline and sets your heart alight. You struggle in Joon’s grasp and cry out, a sob wrenching itself free from your throat. Maybe you didn’t want to die. Maybe you wanted to survive because there was still some hope deep within you that everything will be okay if you make it out of this alive. (Maybe you were feeling this hope because of Park Sunghoon.)

“Of course I’m alive, idiot,” sneers Joon, his hand tightening in your hair. “Why would they kill patient zero?”

You reach up and claw at Joon’s arm, your nails snagging his skin, cutting the boy open and he begins to bleed. “You’re such a bitch, Y/N,” Joon growls, his other hand wrapping around your neck and dragging you up from the ground, your breath hitching as you struggle to breathe.

“Let Y/N go, Joon,” Sunghoon demands, his eyes only focused on you. You feel pathetic, you’re unable to do anything -- you can’t even breathe. Maybe it would’ve been better if they left you in the broadcasting room.

“Why should I let her go?” Joon’s voice was close to your ear. You could practically taste the black blood spilling out of his mouth and onto your clothed shoulder. “She’s just like me. She’s another Zombie and you’re willingly keeping her in your group?”

“Zombie or not, let go of Y/N,” Sunghoon says, his voice low, and his eyes finally looking at Joon. He steps forward and then takes another step, and another, and another -- and then Joon snarls. It’s not loud enough to be heard over the music pouring out of the speakers, and yet, all the Zombies turn and focus their deadly black eyes on the group of seven boys, with Sunghoon in the front.

Terror floods your veins and you struggle in Joon’s grasp. You couldn’t let more people fall victim to Zombies because of you. With all eyes focused on the seven boys, a chill creeps up your spine. “One move,” Joon begins, his voice threateningly low, “and you’ll join them.”

Joon lets go of you and you instantly gasp for air, your chest heaving in delight. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Joon says, a hand reaching out to grip the back of your blouse. “Y/N’s a Zombie. The moment Suyeon’s blood entered her bloodstream, Y/N began to turn.”

“We locked her in the recording booth for a night,” Jungwon says, his eyes carefully passing over every Zombie looking at them with hungry black eyes, “nothing happened. Nothing changed.”

Joon laughs. It’s loud, but the Zombies don’t move. “But something did happen, didn’t it, Y/N?” He yanks you back towards him and you shriek, desperation filling your veins again. “What happened, Y/N?” His fingers curl through your hair, brushing it away from your face gently.

“I -- I pushed Sunghoon.” You struggle to speak, fear hindering your every move, and every word. “And he dented the lockers in the broadcasting room.”

Joon hums. “That’s an oddly inhumane amount of strength, don’t you think?”

“Please let me go,” you beg.

“Do you believe me now?” Joon asks, ignoring your begging.

“Y/N’s not a zombie,” Sunghoon says, and it sounds like he truly believes it.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, crestfallen.

“Fine, I’ll make you believe.” Without warning, Joon’s hands settle on your chest and rip your blouse apart, your eyes widen and immediately your arms come up to cover your bare torso. One hand wraps around your neck while the other produces a knife. It’s one from the kitchen in the cafeteria and you’re paralyzed by fear.

“Watch me,” Joon growls, “or I’ll kill Y/N.”

Seven sets of eyes settle on your bare body and if this was any other circumstance you would blush. You look at Sunghoon again and it’s hard to make out what he’s feeling as he stares back at you. You want to say something to him, you want to comfort him, you want to tell him to run and leave you here, but you don’t. You feel the cool touch of a blade against your abdomen, settled just beneath your bra, and then you’re being cut open, the blade digging into your skin and you cry out.

A long line is cut into your abdomen and blood flows out of the cut. It’s dark red and it matches the blood already on your hands. You collapse to the ground once Joon lets go of you and you continue to cry, the pain overwhelming. You push your hands against the wound to stop the bleeding but to no avail.

You were dying and no one was helping you. It was a picture-perfect scenario because you did nothing to help Seeun. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” And then, little by little, the pain lessens. Little by little, you stop bleeding. Little by little, the cut on your abdomen heals itself.

Grabbing you roughly by the hair, Joon forces you up and your hands away from your now-healed cut. “Do you believe me now?”

You look over at Sunghoon. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly ajar. You don’t dare look at anyone else. For the final time, Joon lets go of you and you collapse back onto the ground. Your head pounds and your upper body feels overwhelmingly hot. “I’ll be back,” Joon warns. “This is only a warning.” He snarls again, and every Zombie in the hallway trails after him, their black beady eyes never leaving the group of seven boys.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says, darting forward. He rushes to your side, crouching down in front of you and reaching out. You quickly back away, tears pouring down your cheeks as you keep your head down and arms wrapped around yourself.

“Leave me alone Sunghoon,” you say, your voice thick with tears. “I’m a Zombie, don’t you understand?”

“Y/N, look at me,” Sunghoon says softly, he takes off his blazer and covers you with it. “Zombie or not I still want you with me.” Hesitatingly, he reaches out to brush strands of hair behind your ear. He then cups your cheek and his thumb brushes your cheek. “Come on, Y/N, I bet you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, for brains,” you mutter under your breath, angry at the world. Looking back up, you see Sunghoon smiling. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You feel shy beneath Sunghoon’s gaze.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Sunghoon answers, “Jongeong’s brain can be the first to get eaten.”

—-

You reach the classroom that holds all of the debate club’s food and water for the trip they were supposed to take today. Your eyes stare at the food stacked up, and the water lying on the ground. You felt like you were in heaven.

Jaeyun’s the first to move. He darts forward, swipes the Home Run Balls, and the rest follow, squabbling over who gets what. Sunghoon nudges you. “What do you want, Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, hugging Sunghoon’s blazer tighter around you

Sunghoon smiles and steps into the cupboard. A few seconds later he reappears with a chocolate bar and water. “Here, you’ll probably need a lot of water after what happened, Y/N. And chocolate just because everyone loves chocolate.” After handing you the water and chocolate bar, Sunghoon takes some snacks for himself and leads you over to some chairs.

You both eat silently, letting the loud yet quiet voices of the others fill up the silence. You didn’t know what to say -- what were you supposed to say after a situation like that? You feel Sunghoon’s shoulder brush your’s and you instantly become aware of how close he is.

“Sunghoon?” You ask hesitantly.

Sunghoon glances over at you, humming slightly. His stare pins you to your seat. He still looks beautiful, you think to yourself, like a star. He still looks like he was hand crafted from heaven above, and he still looks so out of your league. No matter the time, no matter the place, no matter the situation, the answer will always be the same; Sunghoon will never be yours. He’s destined for things bigger than your small village, and he’s destined for someone better than you. And yet --

And yet he’s sitting next to you.

And yet his school-issued blazer is wrapped around your body.

(You remember bringing Park Sunghoon up to your mother one night. She laughs and shakes her head, finishing dishing the takeaway chicken she bought after work onto your plate. “Park Sunghoon, that boy is destined to be a star, Y/N.”

He’s out of your league is unsaid. You’re no good for him is unsaid.

“There’s no point loving someone like that, Y/N,” your mother warns gently. “He’s a star. And you know how bright they shine.”)

If this is how a star shines, you think, eyes trailing over Sunghoon, then I want him in every way possible.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling slightly.

“For what?”

You shrug and glance away from Sunghoon.

“Ah,” Sunghoon can read between the lines. He reaches for your hand and squeezes. “I’d do it again, Y/N.”

“Sunghoon?” You turn back to him. “You’d do what again?”

Sunghoon’s ears burn red. “Don’t make me say it, Y/N.”

You grip Sunghoon’s hand tightly. You don’t want to let this moment slip away like last time in the darkness of the broadcasting club’s recording booth. “Sunghoon,” you say, your eyes hold the unspoken desperation.

There’s a scrape of a chair being pushed back, and then Jongseong’s voice echoes through the room. No, you think, no, no no, this can’t be happening.

The moment is over. Sunghoon’s hand falls from your grip and you watch him slip away from you for the second time. You reach after him, but you capture nothingness.

“We need a phone,” Jongseong says, “and we need it now.”

The music flowing through the speakers shut off. An unsettling chill lingers in the room and everyone’s thinking the same thing; Joon. “We need a phone,” Jongseong repeats, “any ideas?”

Looks are shared and nothing is said. Jongseong groans, “come on. Give me something to work with here!”

“My phone,” Riki says, “it’s in Mrs. Jang’s room.”

Jaeyun snorts in amusement. “Now how did that happen, Riki?”

Riki scowls. “Apparently learning English is more important than Alice in Borderland.”

“Okay, and how far away is Mrs. Jang’s room?” Jongseong asks, looking slightly more alive ever since Riki’s announcement.

“Since we’re in the debate club’s meeting room,” Sunoo thinks aloud, “the floor beneath us.”

Jongseong looks at Riki and scowls. “And you didn’t let us know any sooner? We literally walked past her room on the way here, Riki! And Joon is probably there waiting for us!”

“No one asked,” Riki answered, “so I didn’t provide.”

“You’re going to be the reason for my death, mark my words.” Jongseong’s eyes fall on you and you feel uncomfortable. “Y/N. Joon can somehow command the Zombies to do whatever he wants, can’t you do that? Y’know, considering you’re like, half Zombie-half human or some shit like that.”

It’s a weird silence you sit in after Jongseong’s remark. “I mean. . It’s cool if you can’t though,” Jongseong chuckles awkwardly. You find you quite like this situation; Jongseong awkward beneath your bland stare, it’s a situation that should happen more often.

“Speaking of,” Heeseung pipes up, “shouldn’t we talk about what happened back there?”

“What is there to speak about?” Jungwon asks, “Y/N is a Zombie. But she’s also a human.”

“Clearly,” Heeseung responds, “we should also find Y/N a shirt, but what about Joon? How he came to be. . . That, is unknown and what he said? ‘Patient zero’? Isn’t that at least a little bit concerning?”

“Obviously Joon and Suyeon were some experiment,” Sunoo says, “gone wrong. And now everyone is paying the consequence.”

“Someone was probably trying to make a superhuman,” Jaeyun jokes, his eyes sparkling, “Y/N and Joon have enhanced strength, which is super cool, and Y/N even has enhanced healing! I would suspect Joon does too, but from his appearance. . I don’t think so.”

“Superhuman,” Jongseong mutters under his breath like it was the missing piece to a puzzle.

“Boring. Let’s talk about this later,” Riki says suddenly, “it’s getting dark. Who volunteers as tribute to go and grab my phone? It has a pink sparky case and a small little Yuuji sticker on it. From Jujutsu Kaisen. I say let Y/N go. She can self-heal and can push people off her and into lockers.” Riki winces after being on the receiving end of many glares. “Too soon for jokes?”

“It’s okay, Riki,” you wave him off, too tired to involve yourself into this conversation. “Wake me up when you make your decision, I’m feeling sleepy.”

“Right, of course,” Jaeyun hums, “obviously there are side effects. You can sleep, Y/N, we’ll make sure nothing disturbs you!”

You smile at Jaeyun, thankful.

——

When you come to, it’s pitch black. The only light source is a yellow-tinged light shining on Jungwon and Sunoo who are seated together and whispering to each other. The light is sourced from a flashlight, how they acquired said flashlight is unknown.

Sunoo catches your movements and beckons you over. You shuffle over to the two boy and carefully take a seat beside Sunoo, scared to wake up the sleeping bodies lying around the room. “Sleep well? Feeling any better, Y/N?” Sunoo’s words are kind, and his gaze is kinder.

“It was a good sleep. I’m feeling much more energized.”

“That’s good,” Jungwon says, “because Sunghoon’s the one who went to search for the phone.”

You stop breathing. “What?”

“He left an hour ago and he’s not back,” Jungwon informs you, the yellow-tinged light shining on Jungwon’s face makes the boy look older than he actually is. “Heeseung always says to not think of the worst, but I’m thinking of the worst right now.”

Images of Sunghoon lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood flash through your mind. Images of Sunghoon as a Zombie flash through your mind. Images of Sunghoon with Joon’s hands wrapped around him flash through your mind. You can’t let Sunghoon slip through your grasp for the third and final time. You need Sunghoon safe and you’ve never needed anything this desperately before.

“I’ll go find him,” you say to Jungwon, your words oddly sounding like a goodbye. And a promise.

“Y/N --” Sunoo starts.

“Sunoo,” you cut him off. “Let me do this. Let me not feel like a burden for once.”

“Okay,” Sunoo whispers, “okay.”

You rise to your feet and pad over to the door. “Y/N,” Sunoo hisses through the dark, “be safe.”

You want to laugh at Sunoo’s words. Your palm touches the cool handle of the door and you gently slide it open, cold air from the hallway rushing into the room behind you. You begin to feel uneasy and goosebumps spread across your skin as you step out of the warm classroom and into the unknown. The last thing you see as you shut the classroom door is Jongseong staring at you.

You don’t know what to expect as you slowly walk down the dark hallway that’s only illuminated by the night sky. The moon and the stars hang above you, unintentionally guiding you to where Park Sunghoon lay. Keeping your hands pressed close to your chest and your eyes focused on your surroundings, you do your best to not bring attention to yourself by any means -- one noise and it’s all over for you. You wander down a familiar hallway that has become unfamiliar and you truly begin to question how this all happened; how easily your hometown succumbed to a Zombie apocalypse.

A loud bang shakes you out of your thoughts. It came from inside the classroom next to you and terror floods your senses. You hold your hands tighter against your chest and try to even out your breathing. There’s another bang and you quickly stride past the classroom, making your footfalls as quiet as possible.

Everything felt so off; not a single Zombie roaming down the hallway you were in, not a single Zombie chasing you down -- you were expecting the worst would come when you find Sunghoon. Your heart races at the thought of something bad happening to Sunghoon. You don’t want anything bad to happen to Sunghoon, he’s the only good thing you have left in your life right now.

You pad down the steps and enter the hallway Riki’s phone was supposed to be on. Here, you finally see the Zombies you were looking for. A sudden cold chill lays itself over your skin as you dare to enter the hallway crowded with Zombies.

Even though you know you shouldn’t, you hold your breath as you maneuver around the Zombies in complete silence. Sometimes, they let out random groans and it frightens you, but you keep your terrified shrieks contained within you. One single noise and you’re a goner.

You reach Ms. Jang’s office and a Zombie is blocking the door. Inhaling quietly, you step around the Zombie and reach for the cold silver doorknob. As you twist the doorknob it makes a shrill sound and you halt, not daring to move another inch. The Zombie right next to you lets out a groan and steps closer to you, their arm brushing yours and suddenly they’re latching onto your arm.

You can’t help it and cry out, ripping yourself out of the Zombie’s grasp and throwing yourself at the door. Growls fill the air and the Zombie in front of you begins to sniff, seeking out a smell. You could smell the death on the Zombie and begin to pray that this isn’t how your life ends -- you don’t want to be a Zombie because what happens then? You become Zombie and then what? Where does your soul go? Your conscious?

A tear trails down your cheek and the Zombie is stepping away, wandering back down the hallway and leaving you pressing up against the door, your hand curled around the doorknob. Without hesitation, you open the door and jump inside, letting the door shut gently behind you.

The first thing you see is Park Sunghoon lying on the ground, unresponsive -- but breathing. Immediately, you drop to your knees and shake the boy, “Sunghoon,” you whisper, not liking the odds of this situation. There’s a cut on his temple that’s bleeding. “Fuck sake. Sunghoon!” Your shaking gets more aggressive as each second passes and Sunghoon doesn’t shoot up, gasping for breath.

Desperate times call for desperate measures so you slap Sunghoon. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to get out of this action, but it certainly wakes Sunghoon up. His eyes fly open and his hand comes up to clutch his cheek. Scrambling to sit up, Sunghoon looks at you with wide eyes. “Did you just slap me?”

“What? Was I supposed to kiss you awake?”

It’s silent for a moment. “I mean. I wouldn’t have been opposed to a kiss, Y/N.”

You glare at Sunghoon and slap his bicep. “You are such an idiot! Why were you unconscious? And why are you bleeding? Sunghoon, what happened? We were -- I was worried.”

“Y/N, you -- you were worried?” Sunghoon asks, a little breathless.

You scowl and slap Sunghoon’s bicep again. “Are you even listening to me? What happened?”

“I got scared and fell over, hitting my head on the way down,” Sunghoon explains sheepishly. “I did dream of you saving me though, Y/N.”

“Dork. You’re a fucking clumsy dork, did you know that, Sunghoon?”

“A dork for you,” grins Sunghoon and you push him away, falling onto your bum and feeling hot, taken aback from Sunghoon’s sudden flirty nature.

“Consider us even, then,” you say, “you saved me and now I’m here to save you.”

Sunghoon’s smile is soft, a small dimple peeking in the curve of his cheek. “I have Riki’s phone, though, you ready to go?”

“What about your temple?” You gesture to Sunghoon’s head, “you’re bleeding, Sunghoon.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll patch it up later. I don’t know about you, but I still feel uneasy being by ourselves and separated from the group. It’s better we get back quickly before Joon sniffs us out.”

You hum and stand up, holding out your hand for Sunghoon to take. His hand is warm in yours and you ignore the gentle squeeze he gives your hand as you pull open the door slowly. “Remember, be quiet,” you whisper to Sunghoon.

“Of course, Y/N.”

You both step out into the darkness.

The sight that awaits you both is unexpected. Suyeon’s body is sprawled out in the middle of the hallway, her eyes falling out of their sockets and her head smashed in. You immediately avert your eyes as your stomach lurches.

“Oh shit,” Sunghoon hisses, “her throat was slit. Gross. Do you think it was Joon who did this?” Sunghoon’s question is answered soon enough as Ahn Yujin steps out of the shadows, her black hair falling across her shoulders angellically, and bloody covering her hands and splattered across her face. In one of her bloodied hands, she holds a knife. “Oh shit,” Sunghoon repeats, but this time more terrified.

No words are spoken as Yujin charges towards you and as you push Sunghoon away. You weren’t going to let someone else die because of you. You willingly let Yujin’s knife enter your body as she flings her body into yours. You crash into a wall behind you and you hiss in pain, which turns into a bloody cough.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon calls out, but you ignore him.

“Yujin,” you croak, seeing humanity left in her eyes, “Yujin. Don’t do this.” You already know the stab wound is futile, you could feel your wound healing around the knife still stuck in your body. It’s a weird sensation, one you can’t describe.

Yujin twists the knife and you cry out, your hand reaching for Yujin’s hair you tug hard, momentarily taking the girl off guard. You push her away and rip the knife out of your stomach, blood splattering the ground and you hear Sunghoon gasp.

Yujin growls and charges again. You muster up all the strength you have and backhand her, flinging Yujin into the wall. There’s a loud crack and Yujin slumps to the ground, blood trailing down the wall to her slumped figure, her head hanging.

You reach for Sunghoon’s hand again. “Let’s go.” Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate and you both fly down the hallway, not caring if you were loud enough for the Zombies to find you.

—-

To stay the other’s were surprised that you didn’t come back with just Sunghoon and Riki’s phone would be an understatement. The bloodied knife was handed off to Heeseung, and Jungwon had simply sighed, shaking his head. “We really need to get you a new top, Y/N,” Jongseong says, “maybe like a whole pack because you like ruining clothes, don’t you?”

“It’s not like I chose to be stabbed,” you huff bitterly.

In the midst of all of this, Riki falls to his knees and cries out. Instantly, you all fear the worst. “What? What happened, Riki?” Jaeyun asks, his eyes wide and his hand coming to pet Riki’s head. “Is everything okay?”

“My Yuuji sticker!” Riki cries, “it’s not here!”

Sunoo mimics strangling the boy with wild gestures and Sunghoon snorts. “That sucks, but we got a phone for a reason. Don’t let me going unconscious for a few minutes and Y/N getting stabbed by some psycho girl to all go to vain.”

“It wasn’t a few minutes, Sunghoon!” You exclaim, whacking the boy again, “it was an hour!”

“It felt like minutes to me,” Sunghoon shrugs, “though I would love to wake up to your face more often.” The silence that follows after that declaration is awkward.

“Right,” Jungwon says, ripping Riki’s phone out of the crying boy’s hands. “Let’s see what the internet is saying, shall well?” A few seconds later Jungwon is groaning, “why is everything in Japanese? Jongseong? A little help?”

“But it’s Riki’s --” Jongseong cuts himself off as he looks at the unresponsive, crying boy curled up on the ground and Jaeyun hovering beside him awkwardly. “Right.”

“Well?” Sunoo says after a few seconds of silence, “what does it say?”

“It’s loading, Sunoo, patience,” Jongseong snaps, glaring at the younger.

“Old people are so slow,” Sunoo moans.

“You brat --”

“Translate for us, Jongseong,” Jungwon cuts off the older boy, thrusting the phone into his grasp.

Jongseong’s eyes trail over the phone screen in front of him. “Well, the electricity and power and phone service is getting cut off in twenty-one hours.” A heavy silence settles over the group, “so, that means we’ll have no contact to the outside world in twenty-one hours.”

“Well that fucking sucks,” Sunghoon mumbles from next to you.

“Hurry up then, Jongseong,” Sunoo rushes, “see who is still alive. And where the nearest quarantine zone is. I want to get out of here and see my family!”

“Alright, alright,” Jongseong sighs, “get comfortable, it’s going to be a long night. Did you happen to bring a charger with you, Sunghoon? Y/N?”

The two of you share a look. “Uh. . We were supposed to?” Sunghoon replies.

“Airhead. We have two fucking airheads in this group,” Jongseong grumbles and Jungwon comforts him with a look of amusement.

Ignoring Jongseong, you take Sunghoon’s hand into yours again. “Let’s get you patch up, dork, where’s the first aid kit again, Heeseung?” After Heeseung points you in the direction of the first aid kit, and you settle onto the floor a bit away from the group with Sunghoon, you get to work on cleaning up the cut to Sunghoon’s temple.

“How clumsy are you, Sunghoon?” You mutter, slightly amused. “How were you able to hit your head that hard?”

“I get scared easily!” Sunghoon defends himself, pouting slightly. “You would too! Being all alone, surrounded by Zombies and with the threat of a murdererous weird Zombie-person running around hanging over your head!”

You snort and shake your head, tilting Sunghoon’s head to the side slightly. “But,” Sunghoon continues, his voice more softer. “Thank you. For saving me. Twice. The slap wasn’t nice, though.”

“I was desperate, okay,” You say, scowling, “and worried. And concerned -- you weren’t waking up, Sunghoon.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Sunghoon. This might hurt.”

Sunghoon hisses and you send him a smile in apology. “You care about me, Y/N?”

“Of course I do,” you mutter, “you are all I have left. And the others.”

“But mostly me?” Sunghoon smiles a cheeky smile and you scowl, purposefully pushing down on his cut harder.

“Don’t push it, Park.”

Sunghoon reaches up and pinches your waist, making your yelp in surprise. “Sunghoon! I’m cleaning your wound! Don’t make me make it worse on purpose!”

Sunghoon laughs. It’s the laugh you’ve been dying to hear ever since you were fourteen. His smile is wide across his and his eyes crinkle up. He really shines like a star in moments like these. You can’t help but smile, it’s all soft and fond, and love is what makes your smile curve wider. He’s a star that’s shining for you.

“I like it when you laugh, Sunghoon,” you blurt.

Sunghoon holds eye contact with you for what feels like the longest time. “I like it when you smile, Y/N. And I like it when you get so focused your tongue pokes out of your mouth. And I like it when you blow your hair out of your face. And I like your eyes, especially when you’re laughing and I -- I just like you, Y/N.” Hesitancy spreads across Sunghoon’s face and he averts his eyes, cheeks turning a soft red. “I know this is all sudden but -- but you’re not a burden, Y/N, and I hope you don’t think of yourself as one. I care about you, Y/N, and I want you with me, Y/N, that what I wanted to say that night in the recording booth. If I didn’t want you with me, then I wouldn’t have pulled you away when I did.”

The cold, jarring truth strikes you. Sunghoon could’ve left you to die, but he didn’t.

“I want you with me, Y/N, all the time,” Sunghoon admits, more certain of himself now. “So, thank you. For saving me. For patching me up. For being with me.”

“How could I not?” You respond, shaking your head and laughing breathlessly, “you’re all I think about.”

“Y/N --”

“I wasn’t joking when I said you were all I had left. Seeun’s a Zombie and my mother probably is too.” Your voice quivers and you sniff, Sunghoon’s stare getting too intimate for you, so you glance at a spot over his shoulder. “Please don’t leave me either, because I don’t plan on leaving you.”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon whispers, “why would I ever leave you?”

That’s all it takes for you to dissolve into a sea of tears. Sunghoon wraps you up into his arms and holds you close to his chest, his hand gliding through your hair, over the nape of your neck, and down your back.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon cups your chin and tilts your head up, wiping your tears away, his eyes soothe you. “I know this might be a bad time, but there’s nothing better than the present. Can I kiss you? I’ve always wanted to kiss you, did you know that?”

Your heart skips a beat. All the air is knocked out of your lungs. Sunghoon is a star. He’s unbelievable. He makes wishes ceom true. “Sunghoon,” you whisper, “you don’t even have to ask.”

Sunghoon kisses you and the world explodes. His lips are warm. Everything about Sunghoon is warm. He makes you feel warm. He makes you feel special. Sunghoon makes you feel less alone. Sunghoon settles you onto his lap, an arm slipping around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head. He keeps you close to his chest as your mouths move.

Maybe suriving the apocalypse is worth it since it brought you to the exact moment; Sunghoon kissing you.

“Wait,” Sunghoon’s pulling away, sounding breathless, “you like me too, right?”

You giggle. “I like you too, dork,” and you pull him back in for a kiss.

—-

Having a phone works wonders. Jongseong finds out where the nearest quarantine zone is, and he finds out that the apocalypse has spread throughout your small province. Jongseong also found out damning news; in forty eight hours, the school and everything around it would be blown up by bombs dropped from the skies above.

“We need to move quickly,” Jungwon addresses the group. “Today, we need to leave the school and get to the forest. From there, we’ll hopefully have some cover, and be able to reach the zone a couple hours before the bombs are expected to drop, but we have to move quickly.”

“I will move the quickest out of anyone in the group,” Sunoo proclaims confidently. “I want to get out of this hell hole.”

So with the first rays of sunlight peeking through, you and the seven boys move out of the classroom, a backpack strapped to Heeseung and Jungwon’s backs full of enough food and water to make the eight of you last the two day journey.

“At the first sign of Joon, just run,” Heeseung tells the group gravely, “we don’t have time to engage with him. He’ll be blown up shortly anyway.”

As you pass through the hallway where you were stabbed by Yujin, your hand in Sunghoon’s warm embrace, you find her body missing. You share a glance with Sunghoon but neither of you point it out the rest of the group, not wanting to unsettle the happy mood everyone was in today.

Today was full of luck. Everyone was silent and you were all able to easily slip past Zombies. The knife you hold in your free hand didn’t need to be used. Your new t-shirt was bright white and clear of blood. It made you feel good, feeling slightly clean.

You reach the school gym in no time, finding it clear of all Zombies. There, you decide to take a rest, and Jungwon decides to call Kang Taehyun. The dialing tone rings throughout the gym and it’s picked up seconds before the last dial tone rings.

“Riki?” Taehyun asks in disbelief.

“Taehyun,” Jungwon cries out, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re okay.”

“Won,” Taehyun repeats, still in disbelief. “You’re okay? Oh my god, what about the other’s --” a loud clamor takes over Taehyun’s side of the phone. You hear the familiar voices of Yeonjun, and Soobin, and Beomgyu, and Kai. The boys on Jungwon’s side of the phone all crowd around the phone and everything is a mess. (A happy mess, you think.)

After the phone call ends with promises of seeing enach other soon, Jungwon looks over at you. “Y/N? Do you have anyone to call?”

You smile and shake your head. “I have no one, Jungwon.”

“Oh, sorry I asked,” Jungwon seems a little embarrassed and you laugh him off with a wave of your hand.

“It’s okay. Thank you for asking, though.”

“You have us, Y/N,” Sunoo says with a smile. “You’ll always have us, now. Our bond is thicker than blood!”

You laugh, “thank you, Sunoo. I’m glad I have you.”

—-

It rains that night. It pours, but Jungwon doesn’t let up. Loud thunder booms through the sky and the lightning lights up the darkness. You continue to creep around the Zombies in silence, the storm masking any loud noise you make. The storm was a blessing in disguise.

You had entered the forest a few hours ago but none of you had wanted to stop, especially as it began to rain. You all wanted to reach the quarantine zone desperately, already tired from all the running and surviving you had been doing.

Sunghoon squeezes your hand. “Are you doing okay, Y/N?” His voice was close to your ear.

You squeeze back. “Yeah!” You shout over the storm, and that’s when you somehow catch a glimpse of it. A white ribbon. Your breathe stutters and you stumble over, Sunghoon keeping you upright. “Seeun,” you breathe. She moves carelessly through the forest, stumbling over like many of the Zombies you had seen do before. You face the truth you had subconsciously been denying this whole time; Seeun’s a Zombie.

Slipping out of Sunghoon’s grasp and ignoring everyone’s loud calls, you walk over to Seeun. You need to see her one last time. You need to say your apologies one last time, and if you die trying, then so be it. You reach within an arms length distance of Seeun and watch her stumble about quietly. “I’m sorry,” you shout over the storm. “I’m sorry, Seeun.”

She turns towards you and snarls, stumbling forward and stopping in front of you. She copies the movements of the Zombie who you stood face-to-face with in front of Ms. Jang’s office. She sniffs the surrounding area of your body, and then turns away. She lets you live, like that other Zombie did.

Turning back around, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s and the sympathy he holds make tears slip down your cheeks. No one says anything when you return to the group and stick yourself to Sunghoon’s side.

The further you all went into the city you grew up in, the further reality sinks in. Zombies fill every nook and cranny, and the loneliness of the city makes your skin crawl. You all push on, and your eventually have to begin to hide and use your knife as the Zombies become more ruthless and pick up on every small sound.

You grow tired, but you still push on. With Sunghoon beside you, holding you and keeping you safe every step of the way provides you with the strength and energy to push on.

“Would you believe me if I said I was looking for you that day, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks during one of your short breaks, his finger twirling your hair.

“I don’t know. Were you?” You respond, smiling.

“Well. I was looking for any sign of an adult, and also for weapons, but when I saw you, Y/N, all I thought about was keeping you alive and safe.”

You melt against Sunghoon, your head resting on his shoulder. “I like you a lot, Sunghoon,” you whisper, “and maybe if we weren’t in a situation like this, we could be going on a date right now.”

“What kind of date?” Sunghoon asks, oddly interested.

“We’d go ice skating,” you say, “because you’re good at ice skating and I’m shit. You would help me skate, and we’d hold hands, and then we’d go eat something warm and spicy. You’ll make me laugh, and I’ll make you laugh, then you’ll take me home and kiss me goodnight.”

Sunghoon kisses you temple. He doesn’t say anything and you just bask in the silence and the warmth of Sunghoon. “That’s if either of us confessed,” Sunghoon says, “because I don’t think I would’ve ever confessed.”

“Me either,” you admit. “You felt so out of my league, and I never had your attention, so the thought of confessing frightened me.”

Sunghoon laughs and you peer up at him, perplexed. “What’s so funny?”

“You always had my attention, Y/N,” Sunghoon says, and he kisses you.

—-

You reach the quarantine zone and you’re met with guns pointed at you. With your hands raised, you all shuffle into a line and are being tested with a thermometer device. It’s raining again and you shiver, missing the warmth of Sunghoon’s hand holding yours.

“What are you doing?” Jongseong asks the soldier.

“A colder temperature means you’re a Zombie,” the soldier informs Jongseong.

“But what if someone is sick?” Jongseong asks, “then what if you’re leaving someone out to die?”

The soldier smiles, but it isn’t a nice smile. “Would you like me to show you what happens when this thing identifies a Zombie, and then what we do after?”

Jongseong’s immediately shaking his head.

Sunghoon’s herded into the zone before you, and the smile he sends you is a sweet one. It calms you down as only thoughts of Joon’s words fill your head. You hope you’re able to pass this test. You hope you’re able to live a relatively normal with Sunghoon by your side.

But, luck runs out at some point.

A high pitched squealng sound emits from the thermometer device and the world shifts and everything happens at once.

“She’s a Zombie!” The soldier yells, raising his gun and pointing it at you.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon shouts, running to you, his arms wrapping you up as more soldiers swarm the area. “Y/N, everything will be okay, the device probably made a mistake, they just need to do it again --”

“Sunghoon.” You cut him off.

“No,” he says, “I can’t lose you, Y/N, you said you wouldn’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Sunghoon,” you admit, “but I have to.”

“How are you so calm about this?” Sunghoon asks, his voice low, “I feel so desperate, Y/N, I feel desperate enough to kill --”

“I was expecting the worst, Hoon.”

Sunghoon stares at you. There are so many emotions flooding his face, your stomach churns. Suddenly, he’s ripped away from you and he struggles, calling out your name. “Y/N! I love you! I love you, and I’d save you again. I’d save you again and again if I had the choice.”

You did your best to keep your tears at bay. You couldn’t have them falling over now. You couldn’t cry. You had to remain strong, even with a gun pointed at your head.

Sunghoon breaks free from the soldier’s grasp and flings himself into your embrace again, clutching you close.

The rain falls harder, soaking you both to the bone.

“Y/N, I love you,” he kisses you so passionately and desperately it makes your heart break. “And I’ll come for you. I’ll find you, Y/N, I promise. I promise that once I find you, I’ll take you ice skating and catch you every time you fall.”

“Of course you will,” you laugh as the tears begin to fall. “You’ll always catch me, no matter what, Hoon.”

“And we’ll be the happiest people on earth, Y/N.”

“Of course we will, Hoon,” you say softly, cupping Sunghoon’s face, “you will always make me the happiest.”

Sunghoon’s ripped away from you and you instantly shiver, the cold overwhelming you. “I’ll find you, Y/N!” Sunghoon shouts, his words tearing your heart apart. “I promise I will!”

You watch as Sunghoon and the rest of the six boys are pulled away from view. You refuse to look at the others because it’ll only break your heart more.

A gun is pointed at your head.

You close your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to whoever is listening. “Please forgive me.”

author’s note, well that was wild and crazy and goofy and im sorry if the pacing seems rushed but i wrote most of this at 1/2/3am when i was tired and sad and completely delusional. there are lots of unanswered plot points like omg what happened to joon?? and suyeon?? and yujin?? why was she so crazy🤣🤣 and how did the infection start?? and did y/n really die?? and i left some of those points unanswered in case i ever decide to write a part two in the future..Gasp😨😨 anyway. i hope u enjoyed reading this mess. i hope u love it😆😆

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Close to You 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you have a crush on your roommates boyfriend but getting over it isn't easy.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Author’s Note:  Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“I got it!” Nick snarls as he stomps out of the bedroom. You flinch and sit up. You didn’t even know he was there.  

Of course, it isn’t his bedroom that he’s strutting nearly naked out of. No, it’s your roommate’s. Lindsay cackles after him. 

“Don’t be such a grump,” her words barely carry through as her television blares loudly from the other side. You should’ve known why she cranked the volume so high. 

It's strange how she's always snappy with him, and he barks back at her just the same. You always imagined relationships to be more peaceful. Well, you wouldn't know, would you?

Before you can catch it, your book tumbles to the floor and you gulp. Nick stops short and grins crookedly as he fixes the elastic on his boxers. They hang so low you can see the perfect vee of his pelvis. You try not to look even as your eyes disobey your embarrassment. 

“Hey,” he drawls. “When’d you get home?” 

You rub your lips together and bend to grab your book. You don’t think he really cares but he’s just that type. He always says what he should. He always knows just what to say. And he’s so dreamy. 

Ahem. No. 

“Just... an hour ago,” you stand up and fold the throw blanket. “Sorry, I didn’t...” 

“Didn’t hear you come in. You’re always so quiet.” 

“Am I?” You clutch the book to your chest and avoid looking directly at him. 

“Well, compared to Linz...” he snickers. 

“Get me a cooler!” Your roommate shouts as if she heard her name. He rolls his eyes and strides into the kitchen. He grumbles but you can’t make out the words. 

His praise sticks with you as you watch his broad back disappear. He has muscles where you didn’t know muscles could exist. And his eyes. Beautiful and blue. His arms... 

Stop. 

You scurry for the hall but before you can pass the doorway to the kitchen, he comes back out. You stumble back and pick at the corner of the book cover. You look him in the eye, afraid your gaze might stray a bit too far. 

“Oh, woah, sorry,” he brushes his hand over your hip. “We’ll try not to keep you up.” 

“Uh, sure,” you step back and sway nervously. “I never... I can’t hear...” 

“She’s loud,” he scoffs and turns, two bottles hanging from one hand, necks squeezed between his thick knuckles, “have a good night.” 

“Er, you too,” you squeak after him. 

The door shuts and you cringe. Uh, you always sound so stupid. You barrel forward, forgetting the whim for a snack before bed, and close yourself in your room 

You’re so pathetic. Lindsay knows it and Nick does too. It’s obvious. That tension between you is nothing more than pity. They’re always together and you’re always alone. 

You put your book on the shelf and shuffle to your bed. You open your laptop and turn on the period piece that always makes you feel a little better. It doesn’t work tonight. You just feel lonely as you watch the pining between the straight-laced lord and lady. 

You turn it off and put on an endless lo-fi track instead. You can her Lindsay’s television. You change into your pajamas and shut off the lamp. You lay down but you’re wide awake. 

You try not to think of them. Not to think of him. 

You close your eyes and let the soft tones ease you. Still, you’re uneasy. It takes an hour to drift off and even then, it’s shallow.  

When you wake up again, the low music plays from your laptop but all else is quiet. You sit up, groggy to the point of dizziness, and amble around your room. You go out into the hall and click the door shut behind you.  

You head down to the bathroom. You should have gone before you laid down. 

You pull your bottoms down and sit on the toilet as you’re about to burst. You sigh and bend over your lap. That bottle of diet coke was a bad choice for more than the aspartame. 

You sit up, your muscles stiff from sleep, but before you can stand, the door opens. You cry out and cover yourself. Oh no! It had to be him. 

Nick puts his hand up and apologises as he backs out. Your body is set alight with humiliation. You quickly get up and pull your pants to your waist.  

You take your time washing your hands and stare down at the sink. You can’t even look at yourself. Why didn’t you lock the door? Stupid. Stupid. 

How much did he see? You try not to think of it as you near the door. You open it slowly and peek out through the tine slit between the frame. You poke your head out completely and step into the hallway. 

You set each foot down lightly, not wanting to give yourself away. As you approach your bedroom door, it’s open. You can’t remember if you shut it. 

You stop just before your door and raise your nose. You smell his cologne. You know it’s him. The scent clings to the couch and often trails after him.  

Ugh. You hate yourself for even thinking that. Even your inner monologue can’t help but be the most embarrassing narrative. 

You flit behind your door and lean into it until it’s closed. You drop your head and sigh. Well, you will be hiding until you’re sure he’s gone. You’ve dug this hole deep enough. 

[soodoonimin]

Logan Howlett and animal instincts (or in other words my long winded analysis of a comic book character)

So before I start, just know that I have read a lot of comics but I don't know everything. I can take notes all day long but I have a bad memory and comics are confusing so please be nice and enjoy, this took a lot of effort to put together, it’s mostly my thoughts on the character as I read the the comic books. The movie character is a lot different and I will also probably do something like this for movie Logan as well (though it will be significantly shorter).

Also there are some pictures that have blood and body horror so beware.

What does it mean to be human? Well that's a question we as humans have been trying to answer since we could think to ask it and ever since then we've never been able to give a fully conclusive answer. Why? you may ask, well because think about it like this, the traits we most often associate with humanity (higher thinking, creativity, empathy, and love) may not and some times do not always exists solely within us when applied to fiction, we write whole stories about how robots can be human too, how aliens can be human etc etc as long as they have these traits (more or less) AND LOOK I'm not going to get into a whole philosophical discussion about the nature of humanity on Tumblr.com but I do want to take a second to talk about how those traits are applied to Logan and how he has to fight to prove his humanity.

So mutants are an oppressed people but being a mutant isn't always the same for everyone. You can be a mutant like Rouge who can kill people with a single touch or mutant like Storm who can bend the weather to your will (the most obvious example). You can be a mutant like Jean with no obvious physical signs of your mutation or you can be a mutant like Kurt, where 9/10 people think you’re a demon of some kind.

But what happens when you're a mutant like Logan Howlett? I mean you look human enough, sure you're a little more hairy than most people, you have fangs, you smell, and oh yeah the claws but those are retractable so overall....you're just a normal person right? Nothing you can’t hide, right? Yeah, for the most part, yeah. But there are a couple of other things about you that someone might not know from looking at you, you have an extraordinary healing factor, you have almost animal like senses and when you are pushed to your absolute brink you go into a monstrous like a rage and kill everything in sight.

For every gift Logan was born with theres a very real curse attached to each one.

Healing Factor: Logan still feels pain, the healing factor isn’t just limited to his body but it also messes with his memories, and more importantly he’s lived a very long life. In The End comic and Old Man Logan comic etc, when he’s out lived most of the world, he’s miserable.

Keen senses: Seems great, until they’re exploited, imagine what being able to smell and see and hear that well all the time without relief must be like. Imagine not being able to tell when someone is going to die? Or when they’re lying or when they haven’t showered etc. sure you might get used to it like you might get used to pain but that doesn’t make it pleasant.

Claws: Need to really touch on this one? Aside from the obvious please remember that Logan’s claws aren’t in his knuckles but in his fucking forearms so when using them he needs to make an effort to direct them or….

Berserker rage: great to get you out of a pinch but you can’t control it. (We’ll talk more about this later)

Most people don’t see these very real downsides of Logan’s mutation, they just see a small, angry guy, who’s good at fighting and can take a hit better than almost anyone.

Here’s what worse, a lot of people (X-men included) don't see, they don't all the ways Logan hates himself (and those who do don’t see the depths of that hate he has for himself). They don't see the scared little boy whose father was killed in front of him. They don't see that little boy who killed his father's murderer and was abandoned by all but one person for one person (Rose). They don't see the young man who accidentally killed his first love while trying to protect her from his brother. They don't see the man who lived a relatively miserable life being plucked up by a group of people who only saw him as something to be experimented on. They don’t see the man who believes that if he loves someone he's destine to hurt them in one way or another because he has multiple times over (even if it wasn’t always his fault). They don’t see that for all the times that they call Logan an animal, he already believes them and he’s called himself worse many times over.

(Deep down he truly believes he deserves be to alone, especially in death. That would be his “deserved” hell. Eternal loneliness.)

Which is funny because I think Logan goes back and forth in deciding on whether or not he has any humanity in him in the first place. See in the Black, White and Blood comic, the FIRST story told in this series, is an account of Logan’s time at Weapon X and we get this…interaction:

Pourquoi tu me fais ça?///Why are you doing this to me? This "monster" asks him this on the cusp of death....

(Moments during the Weapon X program, be they real memories or not, when Logan’s humanity shone through)

And THIS almost immediately snaps him out of mind control he's under going. I don't know if he understood the words per say but I think even if he didn't, he still understood the plea on a human level. Because it wasn’t Weapon X who responded, it wasn’t the berserker, or Wolverine. It was Logan Howlett. It was a moment of humanity that broke the conditioning he’d been put through that answered that plea and stopped him. Because if you think about it, if these two memories actually are real, that means that Logan recognized this plea as the same one gave to the scientists. Now determining what did or didn't happen during the Weapon X program is difficult to parse out because they implanted false memories. BUT regardless of that there was always a part of him that held onto his humanity. But I think that just adds to the horror of it all. Imagine not being able to know what memories are yours and which ones are not? So let me ask, even if those memories are “false” does that make them any less real? Does that mean that Logan suffered any less under their stewardship? He was still kidnapped, he was still experimented on, still tortured. He still had the adimantium grafted onto his bones, he was still made into a living puppet and was still seen as nothing more than a weapon, an animal, a monster by the very people who were doing all of this to him and in some respects they are the reason he is seen as a monster by others.

At the end of that comic (where he was momentarily snapped out of his conditioning) he states that no his humanity wasn’t stolen from him but he still lives with that guilt of everything he can’t remember and the things he can remember are unreliable.

I know a lot of people haven’t read the comics so I’m not trying to do annoying about it BUT if you get the opportunity to PLEASE go read The Weapon X comic (by Berry Windsor-Smith) & Wolverine’s first limited series run (by Chris Claremont).

I specifically say that second one because I think the story that’s told is probably one of the more interesting told for Logan because of the relationship he has with Yukio and Mariko. I’m not going to get too deep into it because I really think you should read it for yourself but the basic outline of it is that where Mariko loves the man, Yukio loves the “monster”. And when he’s initially trying to court Mariko it’s his attempts to in a sense to court humanity but he fails and when he turns to Yukio. And for her part it’s not just as simple as her loving the “monster” but more than she goads it out of him, for thematic reasons and plot reasons. But needless to say, they both love Logan but they both love an incomplete version of him. (It’s a really good story and it’s literally what sold me on the idea of reading through any of the older comics.)

Anyway, (in the comics and movies especially) some people solely see him as a man with an uncontrollable side that they’d run from at the first sign of aggression and others only want that animalistic side and don’t love the man that Logan is. The thing is, he is both of those things. Think about it like this. As humans we like to think ourselves above the food chain, we like to think of ourselves as *more* than animals. And sure we’re definitely one of the most successful species of animals on Earth and we definitely don’t act on instincts in the same way most animals do, we’ve created society and rules and we do things a lot different than other animals but we are still animals.

So Logan isn’t both a man and an animal anymore than you or me. But he is a man that is more in touch with those animal instincts than the rest of us (bc of his mutation). Which I think is why when he does act on those instincts, people see him as less, because we (yes even comic book characters for this argument) only seem associate those traits with animals, with something lesser than ourselves.

The thing is, being “an animal” doesn’t need to be an insult or a condemnation of any kind. Humans are still animals but humans are still kind, and caring, humans have still created beautiful art and music and food and architecture and have got to the stars will probably go beyond the stars all while still being an “animal”.

So I think where most people get hung up on word “animal” is because it has such a negative connotation when applied to humans. And thus that negative connotation basically perpetuates itself so the only time we call other humans animals is when we mean to attack their humanity.

So back to Logan. Imo, there is no better example of this than the way people, Logan included, treat his (and subsequently him) berserker rage. Logan describes it as a monster that shares his soul, something else inside him, the real thing that makes him a monster, something that he doesn’t like, something he’s scared of, something he can’t always control but that he does everything in his power to keep away from the people he loves. Because Logan doesn’t like to kill, he doesn’t like hurting people. He might be good at it, he might be known for it but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Even when he thinks death is a deserved punishment, he isn't ever happy about having to kill. And he even says as much at one point in the comics.

And as a real quick aside, but this is almost exactly what sets him apart from Victor Creed. They're both men whose mutation gives them heightened animal like traits. The only difference is that Logan is ashamed of those parts of himself especially when they pertain to violence where Victor likes it, enjoys it; he goes out of his way for violence.

(If there is more to Victor Creed than meets the eye please tell me bc I gotta say I don’t actually know too much about him except that any time I see him in any Wolverine media I immediately laugh bc I know the two around to brawl. And I’m almost never wrong lmao)

And mind you there are times when Logan is also a hammer in the sense that he tends to punch his way through most of his problems. But he doesn't go out of his way for it in the same way Victor does despite having every reason to.

Logan has killed people but unlike Victor he isn't a killer. Even if that's what he's "the best at".

So when he goes into this specific rage that labels him a monster (an animal) it’s almost always in front of someone he loves and it’s almost always in a moment when he’s trying to prove his humanity (when it’s being used thematically and not for plot convenience). Like if you go read the comics 9 times out 10 when Logan is being called a monster or animal by some scientist or an enemy looking to humiliate him. But it’s almost always in the mitts of a life or death situation. A situation that anyone would fight light hell to get out of even with an amazing healing factor like Logan’s.

Because he still feels pain.

He still wants to survive.

He still feels.

And at the end of it all, he feels ashamed and horrified with himself and he'll always have to live with that guilt and shame. There's a point in one of the comics when he describes his heart as being slower to heal than the rest of his body and I think its interesting because although that story he's talking more from a "heart broken" sense. I also think that can apply just as equally to idea that it also harder for him to heal from not just heart break but also from shame and guilt. In certain situations, it takes longer for him to forgive himself emotionally because he suffers physically in the short term. He’ll never have a physical scar of his wrong doing and so he carries the emotional weight of it with him.

But also because he isn't just dealing with himself. In those moments when he comes out of that rage, the people he loves are in shock and are scared because they saw the “monster” and some people do reject it and in so they reject him and although rejection is something Logan thinks he deserves, it doesn’t make that pain hurt any less. it doesn't make it any easier to heal just because you agree with them, and in a way I think that's what slows down that healing process. Logan's inability to forgive himself.

Because that's the thing, Logan, would rather be scared of himself than forgive himself, be it because of his past trauma or because of the Weapon X program (which in the Weapon X comic it’s implied if not outright stated that the scientist at Weapon X are the reason he feels the fear he does about himself). Logan is scared of no one on Earth more than the man he sees in the mirror. And that’s because in his lowest moments when he looks in the mirror he doesn't see a man, instead he sees an animal, a monster. He doesn’t need the rest of the world to tell him what he already thinks of himself, it just doesn’t help that he has a choir of voices that are sometimes louder than his own telling him his worst fear is real. He is the monster that hides under his own bed but the problem is, while the monster is 'real' is a physical sense, it does not share a soul with him anymore than the boogeyman does. He wrestles with himself. Somedays he believes he's a man like anyone else and other days he can't drown out the voices telling him he's nothing more than a monster.

And as my last touch on the beserker rage, I want to posit my own theory about it. Personally believe to some extent that it isn’t part of his natural mutation and that instead it’s something that was “given” to him by the Weapon X program. The reason I say this is because I think it would make a lot of sense that like the adimantium claws and false memories it would make sense to give you “weapon” this uncontrollable rage (that mostly comes out in times of great duress). Not just because it would be one more thing Weapon X has taken from him (control over his own emotions/body) but also because wouldn’t that just make sense on the side of the people who ran the project? That your living puppet have a fail safe of sorts in case it ran into something bigger than itself? During the Weapon X comic, the scientist are constantly surprised by how resilient he is and even though some of this surprise happens in a false memory, they really do believe they can kill him at one points so if they thought they could kill him, why not something else? Why not give their investment insurance? And what better insurance for an animal than monstrous rage. 

But of course none of this is even to talk about the kind of person Logan really is. The thing that I think most people (in the comics) tend to ignore about Logan, in favor of focusing on his rough exterior (and some of his more questionable characteristics) is that he really does have a heart of gold. Now do not get me wrong, he can do some pretty fucked up shit (I will not talk about the Jean and Scott love triangle bc it gives me a migraine) but he does regularly do things that show how much empathy he has. That show that despite what he (or the rest of the world) might think, he isn’t a monster. The best examples of this are his relationships and more specifically the relationships where he’s a father/mentor. Like his relationship with Kitty Pryde and Jubilee, two kids that he basically adopts/takes under his wing and constantly goes out of his way for. Some of you might remember this post and the reason Logan does eventually fuck Wade’s shit up is because Wade literally punches the ever living shit out of Kitty in front of Logan. In another comic issue (after this), Logan beats the shit out of Wade again for punching Kitty, it’s funny but it also just goes to show that he does take protection of his family seriously. And mind you he doesn’t hunt Deadpool down, he find him by sheer plot coincidence when he’s getting a book signed for Kitty and the author just so happened to be Deadpool’s mark.

And mind you, Logan does have love for his own kids (Laura and Daken) despite the troubled nature of both this relationships but again those are a little more complicated. That’s partially for plot reasons but also because they play into just how much Logan hates himself that he struggles active show the same love for his adopted family to his “blood” family (again with Daken it’s a lot more complicated) but I also think that not only are his relationships with them fraught because of how much he hates himself but because both Laura and Daken were experimented on just and manipulated like he was (and in Daken’s case by a major player of Weapon X) so while he does love them past his own self hatred, they are also a reminder of his deepest traumas. It’s not their fault and it’s not necessarily Logan’s fault either, it’s just the cards their characters were dealt. (I haven’t read any comics with them yet so once I do I will most likely write my thoughts on his relationship with them each individually)

Regardless, Logan, depsite what he’d like you to think, is a deeply loving, empathetic and loyal person and this doesn’t just extend to people who considers family:

(Logan says this a man who not only a few issues ago was trying to kill him and his partner/friends. He saved Roughouse (the character he went berserk on a few pictures ago) because he was being experimented on in a way not too dissimilar to the way he had been by Weapon X. And if I remember correctly this is before he even knows how he got the adimantium in his bones)

He is James 'Logan' Howlett. He is a man whose life was stolen from him so many times over. He is a man who believes that the worse parts of him are all that matter and fails (or refuses) to see the good he has done in the lives of the people he cares about and believes that only death will truly bring him peace. He is someone who despite his flaws can’t help but to be kind. He is someone who fights like hell for what he believes is right. And even if he believes he’s a monster, even if the world believes he’s a monster, he will try to do the right thing because although he knows his soul is damned that doesn’t mean that exempts him from doing what good he can. He is someone who gives and good as he gets and then some. He’s the best at what he does but for him, that isn’t alway what he thinks it is.

And I think that’s the beauty of Logan as a character. Someone whose life is so wrought with tragedy and yet he is someone who can’t help but to be kind, someone who can’t help but love and care and find the humanity in the world despite the world seeming to be hellbent on taking his humanity away. Even though he (and many people in universe) might disagree with me, he is not only a one of the best humanity has to offer but he is also a shining example of the tenacity of the human spirit.

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part IV

Welcome back! This time we have the second ghostface smut. Part V will be out later tonight, but no smut! Just some pure angst and fluff. As always, heed the tags

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+, P in V, Fingering, Oral female!receiving, Overall smut

Part I Part II Part III  Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

 Word Count: 2673

You had a good five seconds on campus before someone finally noticed. Before you even made eye contact with her for the first time that day, Tatum let out the biggest gasp she had ever made and grabbed your shoulder. “And who did you spend your night with,” she asked as you immediately blushed, covering up your hickey with your palm. “None of your business, tate,” you said as Stu laughed and put his arm around Tatum’s waist. “Maybe Randy finally got his shot, I mean with how scared you must be about the killer, maybe he offered some protection for you,” Stu joked as Billy laughed.

 “Don’t get the dork all worked up, Stu, you might put one too many ideas in that perverted brain of his,” Billy said as Randy rolled his eyes. “I can confirm it was not me, sadly, one of us actually has a job instead of living off student loan refunds,” Randy said as the group put their attention back on you. “Well, whoever mauled you better show up at the mall after class today. I wanna see who gave you that, you know, to vet them or whatever,” Tatum said as Sidney nodded. “Yeah, and then we’ll get on their case for mauling you,” she added, making you laugh.

Your day was mostly spent around nervously tiptoeing around the girls questioning you on who you spent the night with. You had talked to other people on campus that didn’t include your little friend group but had never shown interest in them, so they questioned you on any and every one they knew to see who it was. “Okay, what about the guy who almost hit you with that football last week, Kyle? Kit? Kaleb.” Tatum recalled, “Kevin, and no,” you answered simply as Sidney took a stab at it. “Nah, it has to be Oliver,” she suggested, making you pause and show a gross look. “One of my biggest bullies in high school? No thanks,” you shrugged as Billy turned his gaze to you, Stu looking back at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Bully?” Billy questioned as you nodded. Throughout most of school you had been bullied, not really by one group in particular but there were enough to only leave you with Casey as one of your only friends until senior year. It stopped when college came around, no one cared enough to bully someone they spent one hour a day with. “Yeah, he always bullied me, ever since second grade. At first everyone thought he liked me because they thought being mean to someone was how you showed a crush but after this one time he faked asking me out in high school just to stand me up, it came kinda clear he hated me,” you explained with a little bitter laugh, going silent when you noticed the awkwardness.

 Billy’s face was stone cold, but you could tell in his eyes that he was angered. “It’s fine, I’m over it now, but yeah, definitely not someone I would let sleep with me,” you said as you looked away, not noticing the glance that Stu and Billy shared. “Is he still a dick to you?” Stu asked as you laughed, “I guess? I dunno, I find it more funny that he’s still got a grudge against me for some reason, but at least he doesn’t try to pull my hair anymore,” you said jokingly.

“How about we go in there?” Tatum suggested as you and Sidney both shared a laugh, “what? You have a mystery date and you might want a cute outfit for Billy sometime,” Tate said as you and Sidney looked to each other before looking at the boys. “How about you two run off for a bit instead of being giant pervs, we’ll meet up again at the food court,” you suggested as Billy and Stu were quick to agree. Their rapid head shakes made you all rile up with laughter, smiling and heading into the store together. 

“Sooo, what’s your mystery dates favorite color?” Tate asked as you smiled, “I don’t know actually, that’s a good question,” you hummed as you looked at the different choices of lingerie that lined the store. “I think they like any color really,” you said as you spotted a red laced set, it was a bralette styled top that had strips running down the side to connect to the underwear. Sidney noticed where your eyes lingered and laughed, “they’re kinky, huh?” She joked as you laughed and nodded, “really,” you agreed. You picked through the outfit to find your size, wondering if ghostface would like it, you guessed they probably would enjoy the blood red color of it.Later that night you were in your bathroom, glad that your parents had left to have dinner at your grandparents, which they did very hesitantly given the incident a few days ago. When you reassured that with all your friends only a few blocks away and access to cars, as well as the marvelous creation of phones to dial 911, they let you be.

You found yourself looking in the mirror as you checked yourself out for the 100th time in the lingerie you had bought. You blushed and wondered if your masked killer would enjoy the outfit, running your hand slowly across the lace fabric. You heard a noise from outside, quickly throwing on a tshirt- one you didnt care about if ruined again- and pj shorts before heading out into your bedroom.

You peeked over your window to see nothing, frowning to yourself before sighing and taking a seat on your bed. But when you were met with the back of the costumed body looking over your vanity you let out a small scream, making them turn to you. “Jesus christ you scared me!” You yelled at them before relaxing, “no window climbing this time?” You asked as they shook their head, continuing to look around the room. You noticed their little glances around the room, curious as to why they were studying it. They turned towards you once more, walking over to you and looking you over. They were less aggressive than last time, using two fingers to tilt your head up to them. Their fingers were warm, which caught you off guard, just yesterday they were cold to the touch.

“There’s two of you?” You questioned, their demeanor changing quickly as they grabbed your chin. “I-I don’t know who you are, i swear. It’s just- y-your touch…” you spoke quickly, trailing off as their grip loosened. “The last one was cold, kinda felt like a corpse,” you said jokingly, “and you’re warm…plus you keep looking around like you haven’t been here before.” You said to them, their touch going back to just gently holding your chin up. They moved away from you, going back to your vanity and grabbing a small black bag, bringing it over to you. You blinked in surprise, looking up to them before they gestured to open it. You reached into the bag, pulling out a piece of paper that was torn, giggling at the words that were printed onto it. ‘Sorry about the last guy :(‘

“See? I would have figured it was two of you anyways,” you said as they shook their head. You smiled, reaching back into the bag and looking at your two new Carrie shirts. One was in the style as your previous one, the other a different one but still in the correct size. “I didn’t think I would actually be treated to a new shirt,” you admitted, hearing a chuckle from them. You didn’t say it out loud, but your heart was filled with joy knowing these two masked killers, regardless of not knowing them, were being so kind and caring towards you. You swooned, noticing how different the two seemed. The other one scared you a little, not really knowing their true intentions, but this one seemed so much more gentle and sweet with you. “I um, I also had a little surprise for you,” you said, noticing how they perked up at your words.

A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked up to them, adjusting yourself before sitting up on your knees. “but you’ll have to take my clothes off first to see it, mr. ghostface.” you whispered out, which made them grab you by the waist and lay you down on the bed. They didn’t take out the knife, instead their hands darted to the hem of your shirt and lifted it up to reveal the red lingerie underneath. A small groan left them as they quickly worked on taking off your shorts, making you giggle at the rush in their actions. You let out a little whimper as they groped you, aware now of how unintentionally strong their grip was. They squeezed your breast that was covered in the lace, their other hand roaming up and down your side. The lack of their touch made you whine out, pouting up at them before they moved to grab the final thing from the bag. A new blindfold, one dedicated just for you. They were quick to tie it, making sure you didn’t see through it by waving in front of you.

All you heard was a little thump of the mask and them struggling to take their gloves off before you heard the rest of their clothing thump to the ground. Before you could even take in a breath you felt their hand already cupping your core, their lips attacking the part of your breasts that were left uncovered from the lingerie. They roamed around before their lips were now on your neck, creating a new hickey right above the old one. You moaned softly, a shaky hand reaching to grab their arm.You could feel their muscles contract and tighten at the touch but when you made no movement to touch elsewhere, they quickly calmed down and continued their lust filled attack on you. They teased you over the lace panties you wore, their smirk growing as you let out little huffs and moans. The bed lifted, their frame no longer causing it to dip and your hand was left holding nothing, a small pout made its way to your agitated frown as their touch left you. After a moment you gasped, feeling their hands spreading your legs apart as they placed gentle kisses onto your inner thighs.

It was the first time you felt the blade, but they didn’t trail it across your skin like the other, instead they used it to make you exposed to them. Another whine left you, “you owe me a new outfit again, this was brand new,” you whined, they responded with a nip to your inner thigh, not doing anything else before diving into you.Your back arched on impact, their tongue on your clit as they spread you open with their thumbs. “fuck,” you moaned out, your thighs closing around their head to lock them in place in pure instinct. They were skilled at this, eventually finding the perfect pace that had you shaking and squirming. Every time you tried to shimmy up and get away from the pleasure, their large hands wrapped around your thighs from behind and pulled you back down onto their face. You weren’t even aware of how many minutes had passed before your thighs were shaking, only being held up by their grip. “Wait, fuck, you’re-“ the breath was knocked out of your lungs as they entered their middle finger into you, their pace matching that of their tongue as they thrusted it in and out of you.

 A loud moan left your lips as you came, whines and whimpers erupting from your chest as their ministrations didn’t stop. “Please, please, ‘s too much,” you pleaded, clawing at your bedsheets as they just hooked their arm around your thigh and pulled you down back onto their face once more. It was practically like a scene from the Exorcist as you came again, your back arching off of the bed as you nearly let out a scream from all the pleasure. This time they slowly pulled away after you came down from your high, lapping at you one last time before pulling away and hovering over you. Your chest heaved as you did your best to catch your breath, smiling softly at the gentle kiss they placed onto you. You felt them snake their hand into yours, making you giggle as they wrapped their fingers in the spaces between your own. A smile curled onto their lips when they heard your laugh, growing even wider when you let out a moan as their free hand went back to your entrance. They still held your hand as they pulled back a little, your legs spreading more as you felt them running their tip along your slit.

 At every swipe to your clit you let out a moan, gasping when they entered you. Within a second their lips were attacking your neck again, earning whines and moans from every bite, lick, and thrust that they tortured your body with. The pleasure was dizzying, you had never really gone so many rounds with someone before, the recovery time was practically nothing with how fast your climax was building up again. They were more gentle, their free hand roaming over the bralette you still had on, teasing your nipples over the fabric as they littered your skin in love bites. You were already regretting Tatum’s and Sidney’s teases about them tomorrow but for now, you accepted your fate.

Their pace was quick but managed to hit all your sweet spots, their hand that held yours was gripping you so tightly their knuckles turned white, which only brought you closer to the edge. Their free hand found its way to your clit again, rubbing it in time with their thrusts to completely overwhelm you. Your orgasm washed over you hard, the seconds felt like they lasted a lifetime as you did your best to come down from your high, but their continued sloppy thrusts didn’t help one bit. A loud whine left you as they came, biting into your neck to cover up their moan. They pulled out slowly, letting go of your hand and kissing you once again. Unlike the other ghostface, they laid down in the bed with you, pulling you against their chest. You accepted the invitation, resting against their chest and listening to their heartbeat as you recovered from your orgasm. 

“Next time…do- uh,” you spoke softly, a bit shy to get your thoughts out into words. You felt their fingertips tracing your jaw, relaxing as their thumb ran over your lips. “Do you think the both of you could come by next time? You- uh, you don’t have to but…” you trailed off as they kissed you, feeling their head move in a nod. You smiled, heart fluttering with excitement knowing both of them would be alone with you. “And don’t forget the new lingerie set, please,” you requested with a little laugh. It was an hour later, ghostface gone and you freshly showered and dressed in your pajamas again. 

Your phone rang, seeing Sidney’s caller id and answering quickly. “Hey, have you seen any of the police cars pass by?” She asked as you looked out your window, “no, how come?” You asked as Sidney sighed. “Oliver, the neighbors said they heard screaming and shit breaking and when police got there they said he was dead,” she said as you frowned. “Do they know if it was the killer?” You asked, “yeah, neighbors said they saw him running off. They tried going after them but they couldn’t catch up.” She told you, you sighing and shaking your head. “That’s so creepy…” you said, thinking back to the conversation you all were having earlier that day. You couldn’t help but wonder if ghostface was stalking you, if they already knew you and your past.