#Then it went back to radiation poisoning

[chronicbeans]

My Process for Making OCs

Both fandom OCs or ones for my original stories:

Come up with an OC idea after listening to music.

Play that song the entire time I am creating the OC.

Research information to create more details or refine important details.

Get dragged into a rabbit hole on a specific topic.

Learn a bunch of information that will never come up in casual conversation and I will most likely never use in real life.

Complete the OC.

This post was brought to you by me making a Hazbin OC and falling down a rabbit hole researching radiation poisoning. ... For three hours.

[evielmostdefinitely]

y/n calls him coriolanus…he’s not pleased.

smut ahead :) contains: spanking, dom!coriolanus, bratty!subby!reader.

"... and you are not to drink from any bottle that i have not provided for you, do you understand?" coriolanus followed you around the small apartment, fingers working open his collar with a huff.

you reached for your earrings, fighting back an eye roll. he'd been nagging you since the moment you exited the party. a list of infractions, corrections that needed to be made by you.

"there have been rebels about, and i will not have you poisoned." coryo snapped, an icy gaze that bore into the back of your head. your slumped shoulders, rounded with defiance and annoyance- like he was boring you. "are you listening to me?"

"yes, coriolanus." you snapped, an edge to your tone that had him bristling with anger, fist clenching at the use of his full name. not the loving endearments you always gave him, the nickname he allowed you to use with him.

the room went still. you knew it was bratty, that was half the reason you did it, but you also were annoyed. the chill in the room had you fighting back shivers, and you didn't dare turn around. you knew if you did, he'd be glaring at you.

"i beg your pardon?" coryo gritted. you tensed, feeling his radiating heat of fury from behind you.

you were torn. part of you wanted to obey, fall into submission at the mere sound of his tone. the other part of you was buzzing with excitement, thighs pressed together, throbbing with the thrill, the temptation of pushing him a little further to get what you want.

"what?" you played coyly, turning to look at him as innocently as you could over your shoulder. "i said i understood, coriolanus. what-"

coriolanus' hand seized your jaw, pulling your gaze to his furious one, his own jaw flexing fury. "have you forgotten yourself? talking to me in this manner?"

you blinked at him, rounded eyes that looked so sweet. lips twitching as you tried to fight back a smile. "why are you upset," you paused, heart skipping with excitement. "coriolanus?"

the final straw that had coryo yanking you out of your seat, a bruising grip on your arm as he hauled you over his knee. skirts of your dress flipped over your head, his hand relentlessly raining down over your bottom, fury filled slaps to each cheek. you mewled, squirmed, pressing against his leg to raise yourself, only for coryo to push you back into place. you knew he could see the arousal between your legs, slick with excitement, the throbbing making your mind blank.

when you were sniffling, mascara running down to the rouge on your cheeks, coryo stopped, shoving you into the mattress, impaling you with his cock. splitting you open with every sharp jab and roll of his hips.

"you don't ever disrespect me in that manner? do you understand?" coryo sneered, your hands pinned above you in his grip. "you refer to me how you're supposed to, or you will not refer to me at all."

you whimpered at the threat, mind swimming with pleasure with each punishing roll of his hips. "do you hear me?" coryo sneered, hips snapping into yours, a jab so sharp you could feel it in your heart.

"yes!" you squealed, eyes already glazed, still teary from your spanking.

"yes, who?" coryo challenges, head tilting to the side. he stilled for a moment, hovering above you, looking down the slope of his nose at you.

you blinked, gaze meeting his. "yes, coryo, i-i understand." you whispered.

he smirked, satisfied to have broken you, got you back into line.

[icallhimjoey]

joey taking care of sick!reader? he’d be so gentle and caring

ok, so, i'll give you gentle and caring, but ive added a little bit of frustration and annoyance for extra flavour <3 hope thats ok! Wordcount: 1.9K

--- Snugly, Softly, Sleepy

It was cold.

“I’m so done with you,” Joe scolded, his soft gentle touch a stark contrast from the annoyance in his tone.

So cold.

“You never just tell me things, do you? I’m always finding out when it’s already too late, when it’s gone too far and you’re knee deep in shit we could have easily prevented.”

We.

Like Joe had any power over the flu sneaking into your system.

“Couldn’t have just said you weren’t feeling the best before we went out, for fuck’s sake, and look– 39.2, oh my God,” he genuinely sounded pissed off.

Because he was.

A lethal mixture of guilt, exhaustion, frustration and, if he was honest, a little bit of fear. One day he was going to wake up and you’d be half dead, just because you succeeded in lying to yourself and everyone else about how you really felt.

“For fuck’s sake, babe. 39.2 is not normal.”

It didn’t help that it had just gone 3 AM, and that he’d rather be asleep. He had been, for a little while, until he woke up from a chill and realised you’d stolen all of the covers.

“Darling,” he’d whispered then, giving the duvet a slight tug which immediately and all too easily pulled you into consciousness.

“Mm?”

You had been in a weird half awake half asleep state, sort of restless. Tired enough to let yourself doze, yet unable to get comfortable enough to really fall asleep properly. You somehow felt too hot and too cold at the same time, face burning, but body shivering.

When you croaked a soft, “Sorry,” as you rolled over, Joe got a glimpse of the sheen of your skin, how some of your hair stuck to your forehead, and the deep blush of your cheeks.

“Hey,” Joe spoke softly, but said it urgently enough for you to open your eyes. “Sleepy girl. Are you all right?”

“Fine. Just cold.” You’d murmured then, scooting closer to Joe as the duvet unraveled around you.

A hesitant hand moved across, landing at your waist, immediately aware of how hot you felt. And how clammy.

“Babe, no,” Joe said a little louder this time as he sat up in bed. “You’re sweating, you’re,” he felt your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

You replied with mumbled nonsense, searching out Joe’s body heat after exiting the damp cocoon you’d created, now only more aware of how cold the air of the room was. You didn’t get a chance to find it though.

What followed next was the lights turning on, covers being thrown back, soft gruntled swearing and brows furrowing deeply as the flinch and shiver of your full body reaction left an awful feeling in Joe’s chest. The reveal of a drenched bed, of wet fabric that stuck to your chest, made Joe swipe a hand down his face.

“Of course you feel cold. All right, c’mon. Up.”

Your body had never felt heavier, every muscle tense and aching. Joe had to put real work into getting you to sit up in bed, which was difficult with eyes that didn’t want to adjust to the bright light all that willingly.

“My God, did you get food poisoning? How did this come about so quickly?” Joe pulled at your top, wet with sweat, and with eyes closed and your head flopping every which way, you let the boy undress you. “Do you feel nauseous?”

“N-no, just– …”

Joe thought you were going to say cold again, which made sense but felt so weird in contrast to the flaming heat that was radiating from your skin.

“Thirsty.” You then finished, sagging to the side a little, so ready to curl back into bed and to let sleep pull at you.

“Wait, wait. Careful. Left hand,” Joe guided you into dry clothes, unimpressed at how difficult you were making it for him. “No, the other left. Left– oh my God.” You weren’t exactly helping, limbs weak and heavy with sleep.

When the soft cotton of one of his jumpers got pulled down your frame, you instantly felt a little better.

A rough hand pushed hair from your forehead, and Joe’s cold hand felt so nice against your skin, you whined as you reached up, grabbing his wrist to keep it in place.

“That feel nice?”

“Yea,” you sighed, moving his hand across your face wherever you needed some cool relief, humming when gave you his other hand as well. It gave Joe the chance to glance a look behind you, at the wet rumpled sheets that were going to need a change.

Joe was tired and slightly annoyed, because there was not a chance that this had just come about after you’d gone to sleep which was just so typical. If it hadn’t been the middle of the night, he’d have pushed you into a hot shower. Couldn’t do that now; you were practically falling back asleep as your teeth chattered whilst you relished under Joe’s cool hands, pressed against your cheeks.

“Thirsty girl. Okay. Let’s go check how bad this is.”

“Noo,” you softly whined, eyes still closed, body so very ready to just flop back down onto the mattress.

“None of that,” Joe said sternly, kindness lining his words as he pulled you up to your feet. “Bedding needs a change, and you need some, I don’t know, ibuprofen, for one…”

You let yourself be lead over into the kitchen in the dark and parked yourself against the counter, leaning into the surface as much as you could. With your eyes closed, maybe you could just fall asleep right here, even if it was cold – you could sort of drift like you’d been doing before…

“Water.” Joe grumbled, pulling you from your daze as he handed you a full glass.

You had a few sips of luke warm water with your eyes closed.

The biggest chill came from the nape of your neck; your hair there soaked with sweat, and pulling your shoulders up only helped so much.

“Tablet.” An ibuprofen got pushed into your palm.

Then, you heard the kettle turn on and you smiled to yourself. A nice warm mug of tea was so very welcome, even just the idea of it made you go a little more lax.

“Can you– careful!”

You nearly dropped the glass you were holding.

“Oh, sor–”

Before you had even finished the sentence, Joe’d removed the glass from your hand and with two arms curling around your thighs, he lifted you onto the counter.

A frowning face made you a cup of tea, a swearing voice checked your temperature, and a worried set of hands took hold of your head before Joe softly said, “What am I going to do with you, hey? Poorly girl.”

39.2 degrees.

Joe couldn’t not be worried at your half-opened unfocused eyes that he couldn’t really seem to make contact with.

Joe whispered your name, and it almost sounded like a cry for help.

“Mm? Take me back to bed…” you softly murmured in answer to his question as you let your head be fully supported by Joe’s hands. “Please.”

“Bed’s soaked, baby.”

He wasn’t going to lay you back down in the puddle you’d left behind.

“Oh. Sorry...”

Joe didn’t need you to be sorry. He needed you dry and warm and comfortable.

Just a minute ago he had every intention to leave you in the kitchen for a second to go change the sheets, but stood in between your legs with your 39.2-degree-fever-face in his hands, he couldn’t find it in himself to leave you on your own.

“We’ll sleep on the sofa. Gotta tell me next time you don’t feel okay. Can’t ever do this again.”

He rested the back of his hand against your forehead once again, checking to feel what 39.2 degrees really felt like before ducking his head a little to look at you, gazes meeting. Even in the low light, Joe’s big eyes shone with worry.

“You hear me? Fucking tell me when you have a chill, all right? When you start feeling achy and sick.”

You nodded sluggishly, mind moving slow, every thought a little foggy.

“I promise I’ll tell you immediately next time, doctor.” you tried to make light of it, but you felt how you were rejecting the idea already. You were known to need help from time to time, but known even more for not accepting a single fucking inch of it. Joe was probably joking anyway, it was hard to tell with him sometimes, he’d keep a straight face for too long and the joke would pass and he’d forget to smile.

You got an unimpressed look in return whilst two arms swung a throw blanket around your back and then two big hands furiously rubbed over your upper arms.

“You’re close to your fever being dangerous, you know. This isn’t funny, okay?”

You rarely got sick anyway, there was no need for Joe to worry so much.

“Okay?”

But he was persistent, and all you could really do, was comply.

The smile slipped from your face before you softly said, “Yea, ‘kay”

You were practically boneless as Joe helped you down from the counter and onto sofa. The furthest he strayed away from you was about four steps when he went to grab two of the other throw blankets you kept in a basket near the sofa.

You got tucked in as well as you could be tucked in on the sofa before Joe joined you, curled up in the corner right next to you.

In a dry jumper, with two blankets wrapped around you, and a hot tea in your body, you should have felt toasty beyond what was even really comfortable. Yet, when Joe snuggled up next to you, covered by his own throw blanket, he could feel you shake through all of the fabric still.

It just made him cuddle up tighter.

Made him rub your arms, and pull you closer.

Joe nuzzled your nose with his own, and made you hum softly.

“Still cold, chilly girl?”

“Mm,” you replied, too tired to speak, your tone telling him absolutely nothing.

It felt safer to presume that you were still cold, which left Joe to rearrange his limbs over your body, scooting up enough to press your head into the crook of his neck.

He was going to hug this fever right out of you, you just watch.

He’d fix the bed tomorrow.

He’d help you shower in the morning.

He’d make sure you were going to get all the fluids and nutrients your body craved.

But right now, he’d see that you got the rest you needed.

And it was easy to fall asleep in Joe’s arms as they wrapped around you firmly. One of his legs slung over both of yours, and one of his hands made sure your head stayed in place exactly where he wanted it.

“Better?” Joe wasn’t expecting an answer, so he couldn’t help his little smile when he got a really faint, “Mm.” in reply.

“Sleep, cosy girl.” were the last words you heard Joe whisper, followed by a soft kiss pressed into your hair, before you let sleep take you.

---

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Add yourself

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 - 𝐣. 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist ! i hope you enjoy this

John Murphy - Dropship

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ You hated Murphy since you landed on the ground, you didn't expect for him to awaken something in you. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: shameless Murphy smut, plot, some violence, nsfw

Life on the ground was incredible.

It was like nothing I could've ever imagined, even though there were threats, such as the grounders and unstudied plants due to radiation- but none as big as John Murphy.

Everywhere I looked he'd be there; infecting everything with his toxins. The power Bellamy had given him went straight to his head, he truly believed he was better than everyone.

He seemed to know I hated him, and he gladly reciprocated that. His way of showing me? By humiliating me every chance he got.

I hadn't understood why he hated me, I had always tried to be nice to everyone around camp; even him at times, but he knew just how to wear my patience thin.

I had been peacefully minding my business skinning the newly fresh rabbit brought in by the hunting party. The game they brought was enough to feed everyone for the next two weeks. A deer, two bunnies, and a bird. One girl also brought in a few plants for me to work with for seasoning.

I was the camp butcher and cook, having sadly lost the previous ones. Everyone always adored my cooking and I tried to work with what we had.

Well, everyone except Murphy.

"What're you doing?"

The voice hit my ears like nails on a chalkboard, I didn't need to turn around to know who was about to pester me into a hole.

"What do you think I'm doing roach," I ask with heavy annoyance in my voice, still focused on skinning the rabbits while the water for the stew boiled.

"Poisoning the camp with your horrendous cooking," I could hear him walking closer to me, and my patience grew thin with every step.

"just go away-" I had been cut off by a loud crash.

He had kicked the pot of boiling water over into the dirt, drawing the attention of others.

This was my final straw.

Gripping the knife in my hand I swiftly grabbed Murphy, holding the bloodied knife to his throat.

"Fuck you, Murphy!" I shouted the blood from the rabbit was now on his neck.

Fear was masked behind ego in his eyes, I could tell he was scared by the way his hands defensively went up.

"I'm sorry, alright!" He spewed, something was relieving about hearing those words, seeing him so afraid of me. Though, anybody would be afraid.

Deep down I knew I wouldn't kill him, I knew the consequences of that. Killing Murphy wouldn't be worth getting tossed out of camp.

It had only been a few seconds before Bellamy was pulling me off of him. I didn't fight it, I just glanced around at everyone before picking up the pot and heading out to the river to collect more water while also clearing my mind.

There were never any final straws with Murphy around.

When I returned back to camp the air was thick with tension, and eyes were locked onto me as I prepped the broth for the rabbit meat.

I wasn't sure what Murphy could've told them, and I didn't care, if they chose to believe the cockroach then humanity was doomed.

It only took an hour to get the soup ready, everyone leaving me alone. I hadn't spotted Murphy yet, he wasn't terrorizing anyone, not making his presence known.

Was one threat really all it took to get rid of him?

Once I set up food for everyone I headed towards my shared ten with Raven, exhaustion quickly catching up with me. I had long forgotten about Murphy, the only thing on my mind was a peaceful night's rest.

Entering the tent I shrugged off my shirt, trying to change into a new one when I felt someone grab me from behind, making a yelp rupture from me.

I felt something cold and sharp press against my neck, fear instantly climbing up my spine as I thrashed around. The person's hand went to cover my mouth as he leaned in towards my ear.

"What're you gonna do now?" He whispered threateningly.

I instantly knew who it was, his scent invading my nose in a surprisingly good way. I tried to fight it, the thoughts of how his hands were on me felt good, this was no moment to think about Murphy like this.

He was holding a knife to my throat for fucks sake!

Knowing Murphy I thought he was really going to kill me, I soon felt regret for holding that knife to him.

I stopped thrashing around as it was no use, my breathing became wild as I prepared for the worst.

"Giving in to me so easily?" His hand uncovered my mouth, fingers still touching my lips.

"Suck," He demanded, his tone of voice was strong despite being hushed so nobody would hear.

This was the last thing I'd expect to happen with Murphy.

I couldn't help the lower sensation begin to rise throughout my entire body as I opened my mouth, Murphy's fingers instantly invaded the wet and warm place. I felt fuzzy and vulnerable all over, soon realizing I was enjoying this.

"Good girl," He said, making my thighs clench together, trying to get any type of friction to my clit.

Over time the blade on my neck didn't scare me, the fear turned to pleasure. My lower body became needy, the taste of his fingers being engraved into my mind as I was sucking wildly as if it was Murphy's cock and not just his fingers.

I could sense his smirk after I let out a soft moan, he was enjoying this too. Having me under his control, to do whatever he wanted with me. The thought could've made me cum then and there.

"Remember this next time," He whispered into my ear.

His knife trailed up and down my body, making me shiver at the coldness of the metal.

He suddenly retracted his hands to his sides, making me miss his fingers and the authority he held over me.

I turned around and he was leaving the tent, the taste of his fingers still vivid in my mouth.

I had debated running after him and demanding an explanation but I stood there, starstruck.

It didn't take long for me to snap back into reality, the thoughts I had about Murphy hit me like a train, embarrassment suddenly replacing the feeling before. I tried reminding myself I hated him, but despite everything I told myself, my body longed for his touch once again.

I wasn't sure what possessed me that night, I was sure it'd pass after a night's sleep. But I wasn't even safe in my dreams, his touch followed me everywhere.

Who knew weeks of hate could diminish with a few touches?

Though I still hated him.

I was sure of that.

But I couldn't stop my attraction.

I couldn't stop my mind from roaming in places it shouldn't.

I couldn't.

The only day I wish he annoyed me, he didn't. He would walk right past my butcher table, right by me. As if the previous night hadn't happened, as if his fingers didn't fill my mouth searching every crevice and crease.

Every so often Id catch him stealing glances at me- or at least I thought I did.

But I knew it was true when he was the first in line for breakfast, taking an extra long time to pick out his decision, forcing the tension between us to grow thicker. It was like he was torturing me like he knew just how bad I needed him.

The feeling had become too much for me, I quickly filled the bowls for dinner and rushed off to my tent once again, needing to relieve myself at least a little bit. I knew Raven was working with Monty in the dropship to figure out the wristbands so I had a bit of time to myself.

Rushing into my tent I dropped my pants and threw them onto a nearby chair. I climbed into the makeshift bed and began sucking on my own fingers, trying to mimic Murphy's movements the best I could.

I couldn't believe myself, getting off to the guy I despised with every ounce of my being. The way his middle part looked, how his nose was a bit too big for his face, how dark his blue eyes looked. I imagined every part of him, going back to that night in my mind.

My other hand snaked down to my clothed pussy, rubbing myself through the fabric while a series of moans escaped my occupied lips.

"Murphy..." I let out unrestrained, speeding up my movements.

"Yeah?" I heard someone ask.

My eyes instantly shot open as I scrambled up, staring at the one and only Murphy. How did he keep sneaking in her without me hearing?

He walked closer to me, "Don't let me stop you," He spoke, staring down at me.

I was frozen with shock, unable to process what just happened. How much had he seen? My face must've been a bright red by now.

"Too scared now? I said, Don't let me stop you." His hands found their way to my throat, giving it a light squeeze. I wasn't sure of his motives but I knew, in this moment, I was more turned on than ever.

The grip he had on my throat only turned me on more, now soaking through my panties.

I shakily began rubbing myself through my panties again, my nerves shooting through the roof. The man Id been having fantasies about was now watching me fuck myself.

Murphy swiftly unbuckled his belt and undid his zipper, bringing his hard cock out in front of my face, the sight had me drooling while he smirked down at me.

"Put that practice to good use," He spoke, tapping his tip on my lips, the hand on my throat now running to my hair, grabbing a fist full of it causing me to open my mouth just enough for him to thrust into it. He released a low groan at the initial feeling, the taste of his cock now invading my mouth.

I swirled my tongue around the shaft of his dick while he fucked mercilessly into my mouth, gripping my hair tighter every time to keep me still. With every thrust he hit the back of my throat, sending chills down my entire body.

"Thought you hated me," He said in between grunts, "Now you have my dick in your mouth," His familiar smirk was still planted on his face, he'd never let me live this down.

I felt his dick twitch in my mouth before he pulled out, tear snow streaming down my face.

"Fuck you," I said in between breaths, regaining my composure.

"Yeah, don't worry, you're about to." He took me by the arm and made me lay flat with my ass in the air.

His hands grabbed and slapped at my ass, making me squeak out pathetic moans. Grabbing the waistband of my panties he dragged them down, revealing my soaked pussy.

"You sure you hate me?"

Before I could reply he had already trusted into my pussy, giving me no warning. the sudden filling made my back arch. Murphy threw his head back, relishing the feeling of my tight pussy around his dick.

He didn't let me adjust before he was thrusting deep inside of me, unable to control his urges. The pleasure was unlike anything of felt before, his length made it so easy to hit every spot inside me, spots I'd never even known of.

"I hate you!" I moaned out, I wasn't sure if it was true or not anymore, I just didn't wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing I loved being fucked by him.

"Want me to stop?" He retorted. He knew I didn't want him to stop, so when I didn't answer he grabbed a fist full of my hair again, forcing me to prop my arms up to support myself. The grip on my hair only helped him pound into me further, not giving me any chance to think.

I wasn't just full of Murphy, I was full of hatred. I hated the fact I enjoyed this so much, hated the fact I never wanted it to end, hated the fact he could make me feel this good, hated how much I loved this.

"Fuck, Murphy!" I felt the familiar wave of my climax race up my body, making me shake with pleasure as I came around his dick. This didn't stop Murphy, in fact, it only fueled him more.

"Just let it out," He spoke breathily, my arms felt like they were gonna give out but before they could he pulled my hair, bringing my back to his chest as he held me up. "Let everyone in camp know how good you feel right now,"

His hands snaked up my body to my neck, giving it a tight squeeze, something I never thought I'd be into until Murphy.

"I hate you," I moaned out between cries and breaths, my sweet spot now becoming sensitive as he kept relentlessly fucking me.

"Sure looks like it," He smirked into my shoulder, now beginning to suck and bite as his own climax was nearing the edge.

The grip on my neck was enough to make me cum again, the tightening helping Murphy reach his own high.

Murphy quickly pulled out of me, shooting his load onto the ground of the tent, laying his head in the crook of my neck while he caught his breath. I leaned into his touch while his hands slid up and down my sides, tracing each curve with admiration.

"Same time tomorrow?" He asked muffled.

"Go fuck yourself,"

Despite my words, he knew I wanted it just as bad as he did.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[unfortunatelyilikebnha]

Yeah so I just finished the arc and what the hellllll. I’m gonna be thinking abt this one

WHAT THE ACTYSL FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[armpirate]

Smut

Crack

Criminal jk

Humor jk

Rich jk

The female lawyer who need to babysitting jk so she can control for being stop at ex crimrnal

Can that be a hot and funny one show or whatever you choose?

Am always your number 1 fan

Well, I hope this was what you were asking for!

Devil's law || Jungkook

pairing: RichCriminal!JK x fem!reader || Criminal x Lawyer

w.c.: 7.1k

Warnings: MINORS DNI. smut, explicit content, mention of drugs, female masturbation, oral sex, teasing, unprotected sex

Aprox. time of reading: 31 minutes

MASTERLIST

I don't give a fuck about you anyways

Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you?

You looked at your phone, knowing that his name on it only meant bad news. Ever since your friend suggested you as his lawyer, your job became more meaningless. You went from being an upstanding lawyer, who hadn't lost a case in two years, to becoming a rich boys' babysitter only because he wasn't able to control his impulses.

Jeon Jungkook was the Antichrist made person, your biggest nightmare and, possibly, your karma for being Judas in your past life -because there was no other reason you'd deserve to go through all the headaches Jungkook had put you through in the two months you'd been working with him.

His case grabbed your attention when you were first offered the job to defend him. You hardly ever were on the wrong side of the story, but there was something in that job that kept pulling you in. It could be how his life seemed to be brought straight from a movie.

His charges went from being caught driving under the influence of drugs, exhibitionism, damage of public domain assets... even attempted murder against his father. You remember watching his story on the news, and just clicking your tongue and shaking your head at the exuberant confidence he radiated as he walked down the stairs out of court with a smirk on his face. And it was of no surprise. After he managed to prove he wasn't the one guilty of his father's death -even after he was proved, and admitted himself, he had been feeding his father poison for days-, he turned twenty million dollars richer. It was never proved his father's narcolepsy was due to the substances his son was giving him secretly, so they all decided to leave it as a death caused by the car accident he was in.

And after he managed to dodge all that -or pay his way through all the trials-, he ended up on house arrest after he was caught with his hands on tax fraud. It wasn't an easy trial. You remembered how hard you had to play for it to work out. The judge wanted to eat Jungkook alive, and he probably would if it hadn't been for you and your years of experience.

It was a promise of good money, with the easiest of the jobs you had to date. The only thing Jungkook had to do was to stay at home, behave, and just let those seven months pass.

Little did you know that man was a pain in the ass.

The first time your phone rang with a cop on the call, because his monitor beeped after he tried to leave his home, you could understand where it came from. It wasn't knew, it could've been something difficult to understand for him... But the sixth time the call made no sense. You could only sit back and see how he wasted money on paying those cops to turn a blind eye and ignore what he was caught doing.

You saved him from jail, but you weren't sure if that was what he wanted.

His smirk infuriated you. You drove through the rain and wind, worried about him getting in trouble, only for him to look peaceful and proud of having you there. Although the boil of your blood was only shown with a roll of eyes and a twist of your lips.

"Look who came to visit me, Bobby"

That sentence alone was the most surrealistic thing you had heard. Not even you knew the name of that cop, but Jungkook for sure did. He had to. It was the only way to gain the confidence and appeal to their corrupt side.

At first, Jungkook tried to escape -saving his ass by saying he wanted to visit a friend and he wasn't aware of the bracelet having to remain around his ankle-, he just wanted to outsmart everyone and be free. But when you showed up every single time after that single call, rushing inside his place while looking for him, it unlocked a new need he didn't know he had. You kept feeding his ego, making him feel important, due to your expression turning more concerned every time you crossed that door.

And your outfits didn't help either.

Those tight dresses hugging your curves, or those buggy shirts at the top that exposed some of your cleavage were driving him insane.

He was sure he was already going crazy inside those four walls, but you were only making it worse for him.

Your red leather bag was thrown lazily over the wide armchair that led the living room, strategically positioned between the entrance and the coffee table to mark the beginning of his living room.

"I thought I was clear the last time" you tilted your head, squinting your eyes in a failed attempt to intimidate him. "Is it that difficult for you to behave?".

"I told you last time not to leave me alone" he insisted.

Oh, right... that dumb idea he had of you living in his mansion.

You had enough going there whenever his monitor made the alarm jump, the last thing you wanted was to be looking after him as if he were a little kid unable to follow simple orders. Although, now that you were thinking about it, Jungkook was indeed a 5 year old inside of a playboy's body.

He hissed at the cop, whose eyes only moved away from him to sneak on the edge of your dress down your knee. The middle aged man was alarmed, quickly turning his head back to his ankle before he finally got up from the floor.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled.

"Sorry?" he scoffed, walking past you "This dude is making me rich. Every time I come here, I'm closer to buying a new car".

Those were his last words before he left you two alone again, with Jungkook's eyes possessively moving over your body, playing with his lip rings.

"Is it so bad for you to stay here?"

Your head fell back with your ironic laugh vibrating through your throat, unbelieving of that question making its way out of his lips as if it didn't have an obvious answer "I don't know if you're aware that I'm your lawyer, not your babysitter".

You wanted to say you had a life outside of your job, but that wasn't entirely true. You loved your job, to the point that it cost you several relationships -and some other friendships-, with your sexual life being a non-existent topic for months for you.

"I don't understand what I can or can't do with this thing on my ankle" he pointed at the bulky black device, with an intermittent red light, around his ankle ", but you do understand".

"Anyone would think you'd have a master degree on it after being explained so many times" your hands found a place on your hips.

"Are you saying I'm making it ring on purpose? That's a serious accusation" it was the way he faked to be offended by you, and how he smirked immediately after his own comment. "It was an idea" he shrugged.

His gasp sounded heavy when he got up from the couch, walking to you like a predator towards his prey. You were in his territory, but little did he know you weren't intimidated in the slightest.

"I'll pay 10k more" he suggested, making you chuckle with his idea. "I see... 20?".

"Whatever you pay, it's not gonna happen" you cut off any chances before they were even possible.

Jungkook stepped so close that you were sure you could smell his cologne by just breathing, feeling how it touched your brain with such care that you were convinced you were going to pass out while you struggled to keep your eyes on him.

His hand felt warm as he supported it on the backrest of the armchair, allowing himself to bend a little more towards you to leave your lips centimeters away from each other "What's not gonna happen?".

Instead of playing coy, or feeling lost at his words, you smirked back at him, mirroring his pose to only witness his smile going wider and more mischievous. Jungkook was a sexy man, there was no doubt about that. And soon enough after you started working for him, his surroundings didn't take long to find a way into your life, letting you know of all the rumors that surrounded him. You heard all the wrong, just a little of the good, and enough of the things that had you squirming in your bed just by imagining him doing them to you.

He was the type of man you'd spend a good night with -if only he wasn't your client.

"The only way to keep you still here is tying both of your hands somewhere so you don't move".

"Why don't you tie me up somewhere and make sure I don't move?".

"Good night, Jungkook" you moved away, holding onto your bag as if that would save you from losing yourself to him, while your feet tried to find a quick escape from the small espace his living room had become. "Behave, can you?".

"Are you leaving already?" he sounded sulky, pouting his lips while making his piercing stand out even more.

"Don't you see?"

"It's raining"

"You didn't think about that when you caused me to come here in the first place" your tone sounded annoyed.

"It wasn't raining as hard"

As much as you wanted to fight back, he was right. In a matter of minutes, you could hear the drops crashing violently against the big windows to the small parking lot in front of the facade. And, as much as his house was soundproof, the roaring of thunder still was heard as a background noise that made you jump unconsciously. Adding that it was two in the morning wasn't a good mix.

As much as you were still determined to leave, it seemed like the universe had other plans for you when the power went suddenly off.

"The power went off" Jungkook casually pointed out.

"Yeah, I see"

"Well, better said, you can't see" your eyes rolled with that joke, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked around, finding out that it was brighter outside with the casual lightning than inside. "Wait, does this mean it isn't working now?" Jungkook pointed at his ankle.

"It goes by GPS, and I guess you plug it daily, it's still working as if it would regularly".

It wasn't your problem, you weren't forced to stay. But something behind that question made your stomach squeak, knowing that you'd be forced back in a matter of minutes the moment you crossed the door.

"I thought these devices worked with..." his gestures among the darkness made you frown, only being able to see them waving in the air, "you know".

"Maybe twenty years ago. But you're tracked either way now" you sighed. "Can you light up the fire? As much as I like not seeing you, it's difficult to have a proper conversation like this".

Jungkook didn't fight to hide his victorious smile after your petition, walking among the darkness to the fireplace that led his leaving room to, at least, bring back some clarity in the area.

The dim lighting gave it a warm and intimate vibe, while casting flickering shadows around the room, working with the sound of rain and occasional thunder to make it, somehow, that type of aesthetic video you'd find on her Youtube feed to relax herself after a tough day at work, lying in her double bed, while ignoring the big mess her studio was. That atmosphere made Jungkook look even more attractive, while wearing his pair of baggy jeans and oversized t-shirt, that marked his hips whenever he turned enough to pick the firewood from the small basket at his left.

"Did you have a date?" he randomly asked as you approached his couch.

"Why?" you looked around, slowly sitting on the extreme of the plush sofa.

"It's two in the morning, you're looking hot as hell... I doubt you use that dress as a pajama" subtle dimples showed up on his cheeks with his smile, feeling deeper by the shadows.

"Yup, a date with thirty files I didn't have time to classify yet" you mumbled, leaving your bag at your right, over the armrest.

He was pleased with the answer, and he wasn't bothered to show it. His smile widened with your answer, and his body seemed more joyful as he got up from the floor to walk to where you were sitting.

"Do you want something to drink? Water? Wine?"

"I don't drink while I'm working" you stopped him before he could further suggest anything else.

"Well, technically, you aren't working" he tried to convince you. "You only came here because of the monitor, and it's solved. Now you're staying because of the rain, so let's say it's just a major event forcing you to stay".

You didn't confirm it because you knew it was impossible, but it almost seemed as if Jungkook had full control of his surroundings to give you where he wanted.

"A glass of wine will be fine" you finally agreed.

While looking around, you noticed the small details you had always ignored whenever you were there. Like the way the room featured a warm and cozy ambiance, primarily due to the large brick fireplace which serves as a focal point -and that was then lit up to illuminate you two-, and strategically combined with a floor that appeared to be hardwood, adding a touch of elegance and warmth -while being partially covered by a large, neutral-toned area rug. The room had the perfect balance of modern and rustic elements, creating a stylish yet comfortable living space ideal for relaxation -which was ironic, because that was the most nervous you had ever been.

His walk was confident, carrying the two glasses of wine before he sat next to you on the couch, so close that you could almost have your knees touching. You didn't move away though, thrilled by the tickles in your belly by the proximity.

"I'm not sure if I should drink this" you randomly commented when he passed you the drink.

"What I said on that trial was taken out of context" he tried to defend himself. "I said I had been feeding him pills so he wouldn't suffer, not that I was adding poison to everything he drank or ate. He knew about those pills, because they were part of his medication".

"Right... " you squinted your eyes, waiting for any signs on his body language that could give out more than what he was saying.

Choosing to play it safe, you left the drink back on the table, resting your hands on your crossed knees as you looked around.

"I don't know what's worse" he suddenly said. "Interrupting a date, or knowing you were still in the office".

"We both know you wouldn't feel bad about interrupting a date" you mumbled, letting a sided smile decorate your face.

"That's right" he didn't hide. "But I don't understand what you were doing stuck in the office, instead of going out".

"The legal sector is really competitive" you admitted, crashing a scoff before you took a sip of your drink. "Either you're born with money to buy your way to the top, or you work your ass off for it. And I'm clearly in the second group".

As much as you were in a stable position, and you earned your money, it wasn't always that way. The beginning was tough, you kept moving from one firm to another, earning as much experience as possible so you could live the way you were. Not only did you have to add double the effort, you also had to sacrifice a lot from your personal life, which majorly included those casual dates you managed to have in your uni days.

"I don't expect you to understand what that is though".

"Wow, that comment..."

"Is it a lie?"

"No, but I feel offended for some reason" you allowed yourself to giggle lowly.

"You were born with it, yet you still find a way to test life instead of just enjoying your privileges" and that was what pissed you off the most about him.

You were so harsh with him. And, for some reason, that attracted him even more to you, unaware of when he started moving forward to close the distance between you two enough to breathe each other's air.

"Well, it seems like testing life has given me the best of the chances".

His eyes shined with a spark that turned everything upside down in your head, mixing your needs with your own warnings, trying to fight how bad you actually wanted to kiss him when the lip ring was able to shine through the corner of your eye.

"Is that a line you usually use?" you fought back, lifting your eyebrow.

"I'm pretty good at that, but it's not the case this time" he admitted. "You truly drive me insane, Y/n. Ever since I saw you walk through that door to prepare for the trial the first time. I've been unable to get you out of my head" his voice sounded deep, while his eyes moved down your lips to go back to drown into your pupils. "You're one hell of a woman. Just imagining your hair being spread all over my pillows is enough to have me on a twist".

Your lip was unconsciously trapped under your teeth, holding back your breath when you imagined the scene after his words. Was it something you didn't think about before? No. But there was something in the tone of his voice, that had you pressing your thighs under the tight dress you were wearing.

"So you want me?" in an attempt to fake some control, you moved forward.

"Honey, if I answered that question, I'd have to prove it by humming it on your pussy. I'm a man of action, rather than words".

It was the first time you felt so wanted by someone, to the point of them opening up that way to confess how they felt about you. It was also the first time you felt your skin burning the way it was, desperate to take off your clothes to set you free from the blistering sensation.

It could be that all the time you had been alone played a big role in your decisions, it could be Jungkook was a hot man and you fell for his enchants. It could be a lot of things, yet you didn't mind either of them when you closed the distance to link your lips together.

His palm felt soft on your neck as he curled his fingers to pull you closer, parting his lips to suck your lower lip and pull from it in such a sensual way you thought you were melting on the spot.

No wonder there were so many stories about him all around. That man knew how to kiss.

Jungkook was surprised when you moved first, but he was completely gone when you took the initiative from him, tilting your head to slide the tip of your tongue inside his mouth. He couldn't control the groan that had been burning his throat ever since you first kissed him, feeling his eyebrows furrow and his muscles going completely tense with such a gentle rub.

"You're all I ever think about, honey" he mumbled against your lips, taking the chance to deepen the kiss when he trapped you again.

You pushed him against the couch, straddling his lap while pushing your hair away from your face to look at him in the eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you think about?".

Your arms were on both sides of his head, your dress was lifted to your hips -enough to expose the black tongue you hid under the fabric-, yet the only thing you could care about was how hollow his voice sounded while he told all the dirty things he had imagined with you.

"You want me to be honest?"

"The most honest you can be"

Jungkook smirked when given the green light to set free all those thought he had kept as a secret ever since you crossed paths "Remember the first time you came here. You were wearing a white shirt, and a pencil skirt that molded to your body so good it made me jealous. When you started handing out that script for the trial, your cleavage showed off a bit" his groan interrupted his explanation, feeling dizzy for a second when you pressed your clothed pussy against his crotch. "I had never in my life dreamed of some tits I haven't even seen, but I promise I couldn't stop thinking about them. How hard your nipples would feel against my tongue, how tight they'd press around my cock, or how good they'd look while bouncing while I fucked you".

Your hips started rocking against his semi hard cock, feeling your juices leaking down your hole, only stopped by the thin fabric of your thong that kept getting soaked with each move you made.

"And your ass..." before he continued, his fingers dented on the skin of your ass cheeks, pressing them together as he helped you hump him. "I couldn't stop thinking of it jiggling while you rode me after I first saw you in court. I had to ask for your name and number after I saw you. Shit, I even had to send the blonde with the annoying voice to get you to work with me".

Your movements suddenly stopped, the blush on your cheeks slowly disappeared, and devastation took the main role in your features when you realized what happened there.

You didn't get that huge case because your resume was brilliant, but because you became part of the horny fantasy of a spoiled asshole who managed to get your friend to convince you. And it went deeper than that. The man in front of you went the lengths to find out who you were, learnt about your closest people and got you exactly what you wanted. You failed to follow your values, you were clumsy enough to almost go to bed with a client -when it was something you strictly forbid yourself to do-, and only because you allowed yourself to get fooled by his sweet words.

"Where are you going?" Jungkook was confused at the sudden change of opinion, watching you hopping off his body to place the skirt of your dress back to where it should have been the whole time, while walking away from the couch.

"This should've never happened" you assured him, walking to get your bag.

"But it has happened" he insisted, frowning at your denial.

"Don't touch me" you warned him, raising your index finger, before his hand could even approach your forearm to calm you down "I have a lot to think about".

Jungkook didn't insist, he knew when it was time to give someone their own space, and how distressed you were was a clear indicator of how that wasn't the time to put his needs over yours -mainly because it'd only do things worse for the two of you. He only saw you go, crashing your heels against the hardwood, until he heard nothing at all other than the door closing.

His patience didn't last much though.

A day later your phone was overwhelmed by his calls, and several of his texts, which you could only fight to ignore as you tried to focus on your work. A failed attempt, because you could only think of him.

Your range of patience wasn't too wide either after a few days, with a dry and clear text that warned him how you were considering passing his case to one of your colleagues so your personal issues wouldn't get in the way of your work.

Unexpectedly, his calls and texts ended, he stopped insisting. Willing to respect her boundaries, he just moved away from her, aiming to maintain that professional relationship you said you wanted to have. It was her choice, and he wasn't going to force her into doing something you didn't want to do.

Yet, far from being relieved, you were left disappointed with his attitude. And that confused her even more. Before that night, you didn't see Jungkook as anything else but one more of the big range of clients you had, and you thought it'd go back to being like that after you ignored what happened that night. But Jungkook worked like a drug. One try, and you were completely hooked.

Your mind replayed that night in his house several times a day, the scenes of what could've been kept torturing you. Jeon Jungkook got control of all of your senses, and you weren't even trying to fight it back. You liked those thoughts, you liked the thrill the image of him caused.

And all of it annoyed you.

For the first time in months, you left work at time to go on dates, to get rid of the remains of his toxic details, only to come back home even more disappointed than before.

And that night was no exception.

You were looking at your phone, puckering your lips at the on going sex talk conversation you had going on, balked to realize it caused you nothing. His words didn't make your blood run through your veins, it didn't give you the rush Jungkook made you feel as you grinded on his pants... There was nothing.

Your fingers worked in automated mode, sending a pic in lingerie, thinking that would change the mood of the conversation to the one you were looking for, although you were left confused when the notification asked whether you were still there.

Double checking the chatrooms, you couldn't believe what you had just done.

The phone slipped your fingers towards the bed, as you covered your mouth in surprise of how out of yourself you were to do something like that.

Jungkook: I see you're finally aware you can't get away from me.

Not only was she clumsy enough to do that when she was supposed to pretend he didn't exist, she was grateful to have been that clumsy to cause that text from him -even if she was fighting the air while whining about it.

"What did you just do, dumbass?" you cried, covering your face with one of the plushy pillows that adorned the head of your bed.

It could've been something easy to ignore. It was just as easy as ignoring his texts again, and moving on with life as if that pic had never existed, but life was a big bitch to you when you needed the most to be treated nicely.

That same route you walked several times with superiority and professionalism was turned into a walk of shame, with your lips pressed against one another and your head hiding behind your locks with every step you took.

You were left confused when you saw Alan Jones engaged in an entertaining conversation with Jungkook. He was part of one of the direct competitors to your law firm and, more specifically, he was the person you confronted the most in court, unfortunately. He made your sweat go cold, knowing that the trial would be one of the hardest in your career because of how good he actually was.

And now you were seeing him laughing with one of your most important clients, who only offered a quick glance in your direction before he looked back at the suited man.

"Am I interrupting something?"

There you were again with one of your beautiful skirts, that time being a blue long pleated one, which you managed to combine with a simple white t-shirt. Even if you didn't want to, Jungkook was sure you were able to interrupt everything around you by just being present.

"No, we were actually waiting for you" Jungkook mentioned.

He silently led the way for you two, inviting you inside an improvised meeting room -that you could clearly tell it was meant for something else when you saw how off the setting looked compared to the rest of his house.

If you thought your blood was going to stop running when you saw Alan there, you confirmed it would when you saw your boss sitting in one of the extremes of the table.

"I'm holding this meeting, because I was considering working with Alan's law firm" Jungkook casually mentioned, as you took the free spot next to your boss. "That's my spot" he corrected Alan, who moved his body to the chair in front of your boss, so Jungkook could sit in front of you.

"And why's that?" you dared to ask.

"He came to me with a good offer" Jungkook shrugged.

"It'd have been great if you had told me before calling me for this meeting" you hissed, trying your best not to jump over the table to kill him.

"You've been so busy lately, I wasn't sure you'd be able to pick up my calls"

Your jaw was clenched tight after that comment, knowing of all the second meanings behind it.

"Why the change?" your boss rushed to ask. "Aren't you happy with Y/n?".

Your body jumped when you felt the tip of his shoe moving up your shin, lifting your skirt on the way while he reached your inner thigh. "I was really happy with Y/n" you gulped thick when he only teased you, moving his feet everywhere but the place where you wanted him, "but, as you know, this is a relationship of two".

After dragging your chair closer to the table to hide what was going on underneath, both of your elbows took a defensive spot on your side of the table, using your hands to cover your lips. There was a moment you went momentarily deaf when the tip of his shoe caressed you over your panties, making those known shiverings run over your body violently.

"Are you okay?" Alan managed to ask, aware of the weak blush that was starting to tint your cheeks.

"Shocked. I'm shocked" your thumb moved over your lip, before you hid your mouth again. "What made you believe I wasn't happy with your case?".

Careful not to hit your boss with your knees, your legs spread, earning a smirk from him. Adopting a confident pose, he sank his body deeper on the chair to be able to reach further, pressing his sneaker on your clit.

"I didn't see you comfortable".

It pissed you off to see him so relaxed and calm, while you were struggling to keep your shit together with every rub of his feet on your button. You could get caught, you knew that could cost you your career, yet you still played along because you liked how good it felt, you liked seeing how proud he looked when he noticed how slick your underwear was becoming.

His explanations turned into a simple move of lips, and the response from your boss was a blank noise that couldn't distract you from the knot slowly forming in your belly.

"Can we speak in private" you interrupted, before it could grow any more.

His movements stopped, and Jungkook went back to his initial pose, lifting his hands in resignation while you hurriedly got up after fixing your skirt. The other two men in that room were expecting you to either give up or insist on keeping that client, but Jungkook knew where that conversation would go as soon as that door closed.

"I thought you said you were going to respect my decision" you mentioned in a low tone. "So your solution is to call that asshole to replace me? And what's this meeting for, huh?"

"I was going to respect your decision, but then you sent that pic..." he quickly defended himself. "And since I doubt you sent it to confuse me or make me jealous, it clearly was for someone else. And I can't tolerate that" he twisted his jaw, finally getting up from his place. "It better have been a pic for me only and not for another person".

"It better had been?" you scoffed. "Who the fuck you think you're talking to?"

"Last time I sent you anything was six days ago" he slowly pointed out, "so it's a bit difficult you accidentally sent that pic to me if it was meant for someone else".

"It was a mistake".

"Is that the only word in your vocabulary?"

"When it comes to you, yes" you challenged him.

It was a mistake from you ever thinking you'd have any control on a situation that involved Jungkook. His aura was way bigger, those were calm waters for him, and he knew it, it was all over his body language and the way he looked down at you.

"Be honest with me, alright?" the way he pinched your chin to look up at him almost made your legs turn to jelly. "How did that pic end up on my phone?".

It was unfair how he was using the techniques you used in court against you, manipulating you with his insistent gaze.

"It was a picture for someone else" you admitted. "I didn't send it to him though. I ended up on your chat, and I don't know why I thought I was on his chat instead".

"You wanna know what I think?" his lip ring bulged out when he pressed his lips together. "You wanted me to see that picture. You wanted to admit you want me as bad as I do, yet you're so proud and stubborn you'd rather die waiting than correcting yourself" the truth in his words made you even more nervous.

"Jungkook, this can't happen... I..."

Your words got stuck in your throat when he trapped your mouth violently, sucking your upper lip first, and then moving onto the lower one. He moved, and you just followed. You walked blindly wherever he guided you, until your lower back hit the edge of the table.

"I'll fuck you into realizing you're only mine" he roughly said when he broke the kiss. "And, why not, let me fuck that pride out of you as well".

"My boss it's outside" you tried to stop him when his hands sneaked under your skirt.

"Then I'll need you to be really quiet".

His smirk was so addictive, that you were willing to do anything he asked you right there. The fabric of your panties slid down your legs, with the cold breeze hitting your core and making you squirm at the contrast.

Jungkook was attractive every day, his sex appeal radiated through each one of his pores, but that day he was at his peak. He knew what he wanted, he knew how he wanted it. He wanted you, on that desk, and you were going to give it to him.

His cock twitched under his boxers when he took your panties to his nose to be intoxicated by your smell, and you didn't know how to react to the way your body squeaked at the sight of his eyes turning black after that.

Your skirt was lifted over your pelvis, sticking it to your body as much as possible when Jungkook sank to his knees in front of you, turning your spine into boiling grit when the tip of his tongue pushed your swollen button with a groan. And that one was followed by another one, and another one, and another one... until you tried to move his face away from you, only for Jungkook to stick your wrist to your thigh.

"Ask nicely, and I might do it".

You tried to fight it. It was a challenge. You only had to wait for Jungkook to get tired of only sliding his tongue up and down your folds, and twirling carefully the tip around your clit. But you also weren't good at remaining patient and dealing with the nervousness it caused you to know there were two people outside.

"Jungkook, please" you tried to stop him.

"Please, what?".

"Fuck me".

"That's not enough" his lips twisted, not completely convinced with your words.

Grabbing him by the collar of his gray t-shirt, you forced him up at the level of your face, making sure he was looking at you in the eye while you spoke.

"Jungkook, fuck me right now" you demanded. "Because, if you don't fuck me here, I'll be the one fucking you on one of those chairs".

After his jeans and boxers were wrapped around his ankles, he slid his tip through your folds, feeling your warmth and wetness welcoming him, while your feet were resting at the edge of the table.

Jungkook was gentle and careful on his first thrust. First, letting his thick tip break into you, followed by the rest of his length until he was balls deep in you. And it sure felt better than he imagined, feeling in paradise when you wrapped around him tight, swallowing him in.

All your hair in your body raised as he invaded you inch by inch, feeling the fullest you had been in months, feeling the most wanted you had ever felt in years when your eyes met before he started moving again.

His big hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them a bit more and raising them up enough to leave your feet hanging in the air, completely in control of what he wanted to do with you, before he started pounding in and out of you with a, almost, relaxing movement.

"Honey, just for keeping your pussy away from me for so long I should be fucking you so rough and loud that you aren't able to keep your shit together".

And you knew Jungkook was able to do something like that.

"But I'll be a good boy for you, hmm?" you could only nod senselessly, not knowing exactly what you were agreeing on. "Just like you're being a good girl for me".

Your teeth were clenched tight when his thrusts were calm, yet so deep and harsh that you could feel your whole body bounce and move a few centimeters away, before he dragged you back to the initial position.

"You have no fucking idea of everything I will do to you now that you're mine" he promised under his breath.

"Any weird fantasy I should be scared of?" you tried to sound confident, but your shaky breathing exposed how rushed you actually felt.

"I'm spending twenty four hours inside this place. Every single day I come up with a new way to have you" he bent down to rub his lips against yours. "This is just one of them".

His thrusts changed the speed immediately after, changing the position of your legs to place them over his shoulders, hitting you deeper and strategically better when he angled his hips, rocking his tip against that rough spot that had your toes curling inside your stiletto. In that same position, you also managed to find a way to press your thighs enough to cause some friction on your clit, losing control of your body, throwing your head back and closing your eyes as the moan was burning your throat like lava.

As you held onto the neck of his t-shirt, Jungkook found a way to keep you quiet so you wouldn't have to struggle. The dorsal of his left hand blocked those moans from coming out. At first you were able to control yourself, only sucking on his hand while your watery eyes looked at him through your lashes. But as your orgasm was approaching you, the little control you had over your body disappeared, biting onto his thin skin to keep all those moans and whines only for you two.

As much as he'd have loved to hear your moans, he loved how expressive you turned while being forced to stay quiet. Pleasure was on each corner of your face, present on every feature; you showed him how good he was making you feel.

The continuous muffled moans, the tight clench you had around him, and how your eyes kept alerting him prepared him for your climax, keeping the speed just to take you there, and follow right after you when you gulped him in like you never wanted him to leave, at the same time your eyes went completely blank.

He spilled on you, painting your walls with his seed to let you know you belonged to him. As much as you fought it, there was no escape from what happened. Your days of running away were over.

While you tried to recompose, Jungkook put your panties back on, securing his load where it was before he helped you down the table. He knew you'd feel it leak out , he knew your head would only replay what just had happened, and he was sure it'd only lead to you wanting more.

He was going to deal with it either way. There was no point of rushing it, because you'd probably find out as the meeting went on and you could only fight a way to find the right posture until it ended.

You woke up in his bed, with the sheets barely covering your naked body while your head was sunk in his pillows. Ever since that day, you kept scolding yourself for fighting against what you wanted. Jungkook was the best experience you had ever had. He was sexy, but he was also attentive and sweet when you needed it. He was funny and entertaining. He was a man who knew how to keep people hooked.

You frowned when you noticed something strange around your ankle, feeling it bulky and rough, and cold, when you moved your tip toes over it.

It couldn't be...

Your heart almost dropped to your feet when you saw that red light inside the monitor, making you wonder how the hell he managed to place it there. And, when you unlocked your phone and read his texts, you could make a lot of sense out of it.

Jungkook: It'll be only for a few hours. I needed to get out of there for a few hours.

Jungkook: But it should also work as a punishment for flirting with that attorney in court, when your attention should've been only on me. Especially since the trial was ABOUT ME.

Jungkook: I'll be back before two.

You couldn't believe what you were reading. But one thing was for sure: you were going to kill him as soon as he set foot back in his house. 

[agaypanic]

former theater kid as well !! maybe a story about regina with a gf in theater club ?

My Little Star (Regina George X Theater Kid!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Your girlfriend comes to see you in your last high school show.

A/N: depending on which regina you’re envisioning with this, au where everyone has smartphones. post!mean girls regina bc then i wont feel too bad if she seems too ooc. ive been thinking a lot about romeo and juliet lately so the play is romeo and juliet teehee

***

If you had told your younger self that at the end of your senior year, you’d be the leading star in your final show and be dating Regina George, she would’ve thought you were insane.

Yet here you were, getting ready for the opening night of Romeo and Juliet while your girlfriend spam-texted you words of encouragement.

Regina <3

You’re gonna do so good, I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU!!!

I was gonna keep it a surprise until after the show, but I got your favorite 

*Sent 1 Attachment*

Unlocking your phone to respond, you were greeted with a picture of Regina sitting in the auditorium holding a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. She had a great big smile on her face, her eyes squinting from it. 

Your breath hitched. You knew Regina loved you, but the picture radiated her feelings of pride for you. It made you want to run out and smother her in affection.

Instead, you texted her back.

You

OMG you’re literally the sweetest Regina!!

I’ll be looking for you in the audience lol

Regina <3

I’m sitting in the very center, so hopefully I’m easy to spot

Especially with this giant ass bouquet

You laughed at the message and soon got a tap on your shoulder from one of your friends, telling you places were in five minutes.

You

I have to go, we’re gonna start soon

But I’ll be looking for you :)) 

You waited until you saw a response from Regina before putting your phone in your bag.

Regina <3

YOU’RE GONNA DO AMAZING

BREAK A LEG <3333

DON’T ACTUALLY BREAK A LEG THO

THAT’D BE BAD

I LOVE YOU!!!

Laughing at her stream of messages, you put your phone away and rushed out to your place. As much as you revel in the fact that you had a leading role, you were already waiting for the show to be over so you could see Regina.

***

If you had to choose one, the death scene was probably your favorite. It was dramatic, which was always fun, and you got to stab yourself with a retractable blade.

“What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand?” You took the empty cup out of Romeo’s, whose real name was Jared, stiff hand, inspecting it. “Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after?” You dropped the cup in distress, wondering what to do. Then your eyes fell on Jared’s lips, and you had a revelation. “I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative.”

You held his face gently in your hands and leaned down to kiss him. Every time you went through a kiss scene with Jared, you pretended it was Regina you were kissing. The passion seemed more authentic that way.

You pulled away, staring down at Jared.

“Thy lips are warm.” You said brokenheartedly. You were just barely too late. If only he had waited a while longer to drink the poison so you’d be awake to stop him.

“Lead, boy: which way?” You heard from offstage. 

“Yea, noise?” You looked toward the direction of the noise’s source in a panic. “Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger!”

You grabbed Romeo’s dagger and raised it to the audience. And that’s when you caught a glimpse of Regina. Despite the room being dark and her being far away, you could feel her excitement as she watched. You had to stop yourself from smiling.

“This is thy sheath,” You say before shoving the dagger into your heart. You gasp a little and look up. To the audience, you could’ve been looking up to the heavens in your last moments. But you were doing your best to stare into Regina’s eyes that were fixated on you. “There rust, and let me die.”

With that, you fell on top of Jared’s body, doing your best not to crush him as you ‘died.’

The scene continued from there, and you did your best not to move. Your back was killing you from the long show, but eventually, it ended. When you came out for bows, you heard a particularly loud cheer, and you didn’t have to guess who it was. It made you smile even more, so much that your cheeks started getting sore.

When the bows were over, and the cast and crew were finding their friends and family in the audience, you ran to Regina. It was a bit difficult weaving through the crowd, especially in your costume, but eventually, you reached the blonde, who had her arms opened wide and ready to catch you.

“You were amazing!” Regina all but shouted in your ear as she hugged you, squeezing you tightly. “Absolutely showstopping. One day, you’ll be a famous actress.”

“You think too highly of me, Regina.” You said with a giggle, and you were sure that your reddening cheeks were showing through your heavy stage makeup.

You grabbed your girlfriend’s face and kissed her. It was a million times better than pretending you were kissing her instead of Jared when you were on stage. Regina’s hands dropped to your hips, pulling you close against her. When you let out a little moan, you knew you should pull away before you felt like you couldn’t turn back.

“These are for you,” Regina said before biting her slightly swollen lip, giving you the giant bouquet she had gotten for you. One thing about Regina was that she was never cheap.

“I love them.” You smiled, giving her a few pecks.

“Anything for you, my little star.” The nickname made you giddy, made you feel like you were the only ones in this gigantic room. “Now how about you go change, we get some food, and then you sleep over at my house?”

“That sounds perfect.” You kissed Regina again; it was like you were addicted to her lips. “I should go now. If I kiss you anymore, I’ll probably never leave.”

“I definitely wouldn’t complain,” Regina smirked, but agreed that you should go change. She turned you around by the shoulders and gave you a quick pat on the butt to send you on your way, laughing at the way you squealed in surprise.

[squeakitties]

hello everyone, and happy disability pride month. i'd like to bring up something about myself that i have a hard time discussing because there's so little other supporting anecdotes about this happening to other people: i have brain damage from acute cadmium toxicity and the resulting radiation poisoning.

i was conceived across the river from one the largest dow chemical plants in canada. i struggled with sluggish reaction times and irrational behaviors for much of my childhood until being brought to a nutritionist who ran some tissue samples-- they found that the concentration of cadmium in my system was more than 200 times above the acceptable limit.

i was prescribed a medicine whose purpose was to assist in flushing heavy metals into my urine. i took this medicine daily for about a year and my cadmium levels went back to acceptable levels, but flushing radioactive metals through the urinary tract also damaged my kidneys, the fallout of which i still deal with, such as very frequent bathroom visits and being incredibly prone to kidney stones.

they don't produce the medicine anymore because the cases such as mine were so few and far between that it wasn't financially relevant to the company.

i have headaches and difficulty finding words from the back of my head almost all the time. although i don't have it in my system anymore, the fallout of this will stick with me for the rest of my life.

thank you for reading. happy disability pride month.

[syndrossi]

October Trick or Treat #6: Qelebrys vs apple cider, round 2

They both sensed Qelebrys before she struck, but it was too late. Rhaegar’s arm had only just started to move when a streak of blue collided with the cup of cider in his hand, her battle screech ringing in their ears. It went flying into his brother’s chest, where it bounced to land on the floor.

“It is not funny!” Rhaegar hissed at him, examining the cider-doused front of his tunic with dismay while Jon wheezed with laughter, not even caring about the ache in his ribs as he did so.

His spilled cup had rolled to a stop on the ground, and Qelebrys settled beside it, sniffing it with continued suspicion before turning back to Rhaegar with a pleased expression. Her pride was such that Jon could feel it through Shadow’s bond.

“She is only protecting you,” Jon said innocently, finding himself then the recipient of a dark glare that reminded him so much of Daemon that it inspired a swell of fondness rather than the desired dread.

“Do you think me a fool?” his brother demanded. “This is the fifth time, and she was nowhere near us for the last three. You are calling her!”

“I have merely been informing her of your choice of beverage,” Jon said, giving her the scritches that Rhaegar was denying the hatchling. “The rest is her doing.”

Shadow arrived seconds later, his own pace through the yard to the open window of their apartments more leisurely, and he regarded Jon with confusion. Doubtless he was wondering why he had reached through their bond for Qelebrys instead of calling him directly.

Rhaegar glared at him one last time before turning to Qelebrys, voice softening. “It is perfectly safe. See?” 

He picked up the cup and brought it over to the table, where the almost full flagon of cider was. She watched through slitted eyes as he poured a splash of liquid into the cup, tensing as though to strike again. Jon found the cup pushed over to him.

“You drink,” Rhaegar commanded.

Jon brought it slowly to his lips, curious what Qelebrys would do. There was a hesitation this time, her neck turning in Shadow’s direction, seeming to expect him to intervene. When he didn’t, she began flapping her wings, an angry determination bubbling up through Jon’s bond with Shadow.

“Kelītīs,” Rhaegar said sharply, and she pulled up mere feet from Jon, settling on the table instead with a frustrated shriek in his brother’s direction, as though to reiterate the danger. He looked at Jon again. “Drink.”

Shadow hopped onto his shoulder, long neck swinging around to watch Jon over the rim of the cup. A vague sense of worry radiated through their bond as Jon swallowed the two gulps of cider that had been poured. When he finally set it back down, he found himself face to face with Qelebrys, who was staring into him with such grave intensity that it made him smile. He rubbed behind her growing horns, where Shadow liked to be stroked.

“I am fine, Qelebrys,” Jon assured her.

She did not seem wholly convinced, even after a minute had passed with no ill effects. They repeated the exercise, Rhaegar once again commanding her to stay back and let Jon finish. But when his brother was the one bringing the cup to his lips, her agitation grew, and she tried wrestling it away from him once more.

Rhaegar set it down with a sigh, then spilled a little of the cider onto the table. She backed away from the puddle as if it were poison, and when Shadow approached to inspect it, she screeched at him in warning, causing the other hatchling to flinch back, head turning to fix Jon with wide eyes.

Qelebrys’s throat, meanwhile, was spasming with the rasping noise they both made when trying to produce dragonflame.

“Qelebrys,” Rhaegar said, her name half a sigh as he gathered the hatchling into his arms. “It is safe, I promise. Jon?”

Jon took the cup from him for another mouthful of cider, then filled the cup near to the brim and held it out to Shadow, who approached curiously. He stuck his nose in the cider, recoiling in surprise at the light bubbling of the liquid, before trying a little. The hatchling lost interest rather quickly, which Jon assumed meant he had found it otherwise unimpressive.

Qelebrys, watching from Rhaegar’s arms, straightened suddenly, poking her head around his brother to look at the door. She let out a pleased shriek when it opened and their father entered, taking in the odd sight around the table with barely a blink.

He and Rhaegar both accepted a kiss of greeting on the cheek. “Dare I ask?”

Jon exchanged a look with his brother, who seemed to have come around the notion of mischief at last. Qelebrys was released to fly a narrow circle around Daemon, landing briefly on his shoulder to stake her claim before returning to Rhaegar’s side.

“Here,” Jon said, sliding the full cup of cider to their father.

Daemon took in the still-wet patch of cider on Rhaegar’s chest, then reached past Jon for the flagon, which was near empty now, and he frowned. “Who gave you an entire flagon? How much have you had?”

Jon rolled his eyes. The cider they had been given was barely fermented, just enough for a few bubbles, and heavily sweetened. They would have to consume an entire barrel to achieve the effects of even a beer. The more likely effect would be the two of them trying to climb up the walls instead, from the sheer overabundance of sugar.

“We saved a cup for you,” Rhaegar said. “You can try it yourself.”

Their father was no fool—or at least no stranger to roguish intentions. He studied them with an air of suspicion that Jon saw him intentionally suppress. He smiled, choosing to play along, and took a sip.

Or tried to. Qelebrys let out an ear-splitting battle cry, lunging for the cup, and Daemon took the brunt of the splash across his shoulder and side. His hand, which had grasped for Dark Sister’s hilt on seeming instinct, relaxed as Qelebrys settled in front of him, chittering as though to scold him.

“Oh,” Jon said to her with mock hurt, “so you will protect those two and let me drink the poison cider?”

“Poison cider?” their father repeated with less concern than the phrase likely warranted.

“She thinks all cider is like the one we had in the Saltpans that was dosed with milk of the poppy,” Rhaegar explained.

Daemon relaxed further. “Then I trust the two of you are not teaching your hatchlings to attack anyone who attempts to drink.”

“Only the people she cares about,” Rhaegar assured him. “You can thank Jon for encouraging her.”

“Warning her,” Jon corrected. “I told you, I merely warned her.”

Their father fixed Qelebrys with a stern look. “I am far older than you, and my judgment regarding danger is far more sound.” He scooted away from the liquid that had sloshed onto the table and bench, pouring the last of the flagon’s contents into the cup. “Kelītīs,” he said, voice sharp with command, and his next sip was uninterrupted save for a mournful cry from the distressed hatchling.

“Let me try again,” Rhaegar said, and the cup was passed to him. His brother tried to mimic Daemon’s tone, though it lacked the same bite in a child’s pitch. “Kelītīs.”

Jon ducked out of the way before he could be caught in the crossfire as the cider went splashing once more. He clapped Rhaegar on the shoulder. “Keep working at it.”

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 27

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

God, if You truly love me, make this woman shut up — I thought, as Scarlet chattered non-stop beside me throughout the entire ride to the hotel.

The headache that had been a mild annoyance was now a relentless hammering inside my skull. As soon as I crossed the threshold, a wave of dizziness nearly knocked me off balance.

"Would you mind leaving me alone?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, but Scarlet remained planted on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, her irritation practically radiating from her.

I moved deeper into the room, leaning on the table with my head bowed into my hands, breathing in slow, deliberate gulps to fight off the mounting pressure.

"Where were you last night?" she demanded suddenly.

I glanced at her over my shoulder. Scarlet was a complete mess — disheveled hair, face streaked with dried blood. The crew had offered to help her, but she refused, insisting on sticking with me until I sorted it out.

I tossed a small first-aid kit onto the counter. She caught it mid-air.

"I went out for air," I replied, flatly.

"I was worried about you! We had plans to have dinner together, and you never showed! You didn’t answer your phone, missed soundcheck, and even the guys couldn’t find you. Then you just appear like nothing happened!" She spoke like she was trying to snap me back into reality, but my mind was still far away.

I wished her away, hoping my headache would vanish with her.

"Can you at least help me with this?" She shook the medical supplies at me, breaking my reverie.

"We had dinner plans?" I blinked a few times, my brain slow to piece together her words. There was no memory of the previous night — just a frustrating, empty blur.

"You don’t remember?" Her eyes narrowed with growing concern.

I hesitated, then shook my head. Scarlet exhaled sharply and soaked a cotton ball with antiseptic, her actions brisk and sharp. She gestured for me to come closer. I sat on the edge of the bed, examining the raw scrapes on her face. Her cheekbone was so swollen and bruised that I had to look away to keep from gagging.

Unlike Scarlet, the she-devil had walked out of the dressing room unscathed. The thought made me snort bitterly every time it replayed in my mind.

"What’s funny?" Scarlet’s eyes narrowed.

Only then did I realize the grin tugging at my lips. I wiped it away instantly, pressing the cotton ball harder than necessary onto her wound. She winced, her nose scrunching from the sting.

"Noah, the doctor said your mind is so overloaded it can barely retain recent memories. He said it’s common under extreme stress. Your episodes have been getting worse..." Her hand caught my wrist, stopping my movements. "That’s why you’re so disoriented."

Her touch, though gentle, felt like needles raking my skin. I pulled away abruptly, avoiding her empathetic gaze.

"Just stress. I’ve been working too hard," I muttered, brushing off the discomfort.

"I know you can handle yourself, but the signs are the same as two years ago, Noah... You broke down when you two ended things, and you’ve never been the same since." Her voice softened, a poisonous lull. "She’s dragging you down to keep herself afloat. Look at how much you’ve regressed with the band since she came back into your life. She’s using your dependence on her to blind you..."

My head swirled, thoughts tangled in endless loops. Anger bubbled beneath the confusion. I clenched her wrist hard, pushing her away as my cold gaze locked on hers.

"I don’t care about your opinions or the stories you spin to fuel gossip sites. The only reason I tolerate you is for professional formality. But my memory is perfectly clear when it comes to how you loved to stir up absurd rumors about my relationship back then," I growled, watching her squirm under my grip. "I won’t say it again: mind your own damn business!"

"Look at what she’s done to me, Noah! She’s still the same disaster — uncontrollably wasted, out of control! She hasn’t changed. What do you expect? She’ll never be able to handle you!"

"You couldn’t handle me if you tried..." I shot back with cold, menacing calm. I let her go with a sharp release.

Her eyelid twitched — a crack in her facade of confidence. She rubbed the red mark on her wrist with her free hand, trying to recover her composure, but failing.

"You’re only defending her because you still don’t see the plan, do you?" she pressed, her voice cutting through the air as I stopped just steps from the door.

I stiffened, muscles tight with the effort to keep my composure.

"The sicker and more unstable you become, the further you’ll drift from the band. They already see you as weak, Noah, and she’s no different. When was the last time you contributed anything? When were you strong enough to write even one song? — You think she’s here to help? She’s just waiting for the right moment to call you incompetent. But look at you... clinging to the delusion of reconciliation while she quietly sabotages you at every step."

"ENOUGH!" I roared, my voice booming like thunder, the force of it pounding in my temples until a sharp, agonizing ringing filled my ears, like nails scraping a chalkboard. "ENOUGH! ENOUGH! ENOUGH! ENOUGH!"

"She’s using you!"

Scarlet didn’t back down. Instead, she stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with something cruel and triumphant.

"Isn’t that how it’s always been, Noah?" Her voice was softer now, a venomous whisper. "All she needed was an opening — one chance to corrupt your mind, to drive you insane bit by bit."

She moved closer, her words stabbing deeper.

"Until you were so dependent on her you couldn’t even think without her being your eyes. That’s why she’s still in the band. She knows you can’t go anywhere without her..."

Her tone shifted, mock concern laced with malice.

"But be careful, Noah... Don’t forget when she disappeared and left you to clean up her mess — all alone."

I walked out of the room with heavy steps, feeling the air pressing against me from all sides. The pain in my head was like a fist crushing my skull from the inside out. Everything around me was blurred—walls, lights, sounds—a smear of nothingness.

And then her voice came.

Scarlet.

She wasn’t talking to me anymore. She invaded my thoughts, cutting through them like a razor slicing every attempt at coherence.

“Hasn’t it always been this way, Noah?”

Her words echoed as if carried through a tunnel, distorting, repeating. No matter how much I wanted to push the sound away, it was trapped inside my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to recall the previous night, but only scattered, disjointed flashes came to mind.

And the pain worsened.

My eyes burned. The weight of her words... maybe they were true. Maybe I deserved my own game turning against me after everything I’d done.

I left her alone, didn’t I? I didn’t defend her. I wanted her gone, and she left.

She was right.

I had wanted her out of the band, too, and hadn’t I made that clear enough times?

My insides felt like they were collapsing, as if I were falling inward with nothing solid beneath me. Just emptiness. And her voice.

“To the point where you’ve become so dependent that you can’t even think without her being your eyes.”

My chest tightened. That was it. That was always it.

The hotel corridors stretched endlessly, a shapeless landscape. Everything was white, a blinding light that illuminated nothing. I stumbled, almost fell. I couldn’t see clearly; tears and sweat blurred my vision.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that none of it made sense.

But what if it did? What if it was all my fault?

The pain hit an unbearable peak. My body doubled over, knees giving way, hands pressing against my face as if I could rip out whatever was crushing me.

And then I felt it.

A hand.

Warm. Steady.

On my shoulder.

“You okay, man?” Ruffilo’s voice cut through the haze, a calming force against the storm that made my chest heave with panic. I let go of the hair tangled between my fingers and turned just enough to meet his concerned gaze.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”

“NO!” My voice burst out, loud and sharp, as I shoved his arm away. My eyes, wide with terror, mirrored the panic within. “I’m not going back there.”

Breathing more steadily but with trembling hands, I studied Ruffilo again. He looked confused, his eyes scanning not just my face but the air around me, as if trying to piece together a puzzle of invisible shards.

“All right, all right,” he said gently, raising his hands in surrender. “We can go somewhere else...”

“I’d rather be alone. I’m fine.” I straightened up, forcing a steadier tone, though my gaze darted between him and the empty corridor.

“But—” He began, his hand reaching toward my arm like an anchor.

Wary as a cornered cat, I trusted no one—not even my own shadow. Nobody wanted to help, nobody cared what I felt; they just wanted to stay in the loop. I didn’t know what side my friends stood on, didn’t know my own side or why I even needed one. Everything crushed my mind at once, and I wanted to shut it off by slamming it into a wall. I couldn’t take thinking anymore.

“We’ve got a show later, and I just want to focus until then, if you don’t mind.”

“If that’s what you want… fine.” Ruffilo’s voice fell to a resigned whisper before he turned and left me alone.

The moment he disappeared down the hall, I slid down the cold wall, trying to hold back the weight that crushed my chest. Loneliness, no matter how unbearable, felt like the only relief I had left.

A few hours later, I dragged myself to the stage in near silence. My friends joked and buzzed with excitement for another night on tour. I remained still, cold sweat trickling down my back. She stood only steps away from me, and every attempt to make small talk dissolved under the weight of my aloofness.

I didn’t want to believe she could do this to me. But it was hard not to when I looked at myself from outside my own body and couldn’t see who I was anymore.

Tracing the timeline of our story, it wasn’t unfair to think she wanted to destroy me. She could have a plan with Gerard to push me out of the band. He knew my weaknesses well enough to suggest a truce through her.

She could’ve made a trade, and with my declining contributions, he would have agreed. That’s why he betrayed me when selling the singles.

It’s all a setup to betray me.

A sharp pain shot through my temple, forcing a curse between clenched teeth.

“Noah?” Her voice reached out, light and curious, her smile faltering as she noticed my grimace. She touched my arm with the tip of her finger. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I snapped immediately, my suspicion seeping into my tone. I saw her eyebrows lift in surprise, her eyes flickering with concern.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“What the hell’s gotten into you!” I fired back, louder than I intended, taking a step back to create distance. “If you’re trying to stir up a fight to throw me off before the show, you’ve wasted your time. Now leave me alone!”

The words cut like knives, each one slashing into my chest as if I’d carved them out myself.

For a moment, our eyes locked, a silent battleground in the dark sea of hers. She stared at me, stunned, her dark eyes swimming with shock. The contrast between my tone now and the person I’d seemed to be earlier was too stark.

And me? I was furious. Not just with her—mostly with myself. With my inability to think clearly, to find balance.

Before either of us could speak again, the intro began to boom through the speakers, the cue to step onto the stage.

Without another word, I turned toward the blinding lights and the pounding sound, carrying the weight of that exchange like a burden I had no idea how to put down.

Jolly and Ruffilo led the sequence, Folio followed on drums, and I forced my throat to push out the first words of the song.

The sound came out—hoarse, but it came.

For a moment, she carried me when she noticed my voice faltering, like a lifeboat in a stormy sea. I didn’t cling to her or her help, trying to forget the weight on my shoulders, the echo of Scarlet’s words still crawling in my mind. I kept trying to push through, as if it were just another normal day.

But then I looked at the audience.

Hundreds of eyes. Thousands, maybe. All fixed on me. Judging me.

Waiting for me.

My throat closed.

The words vanished.

The guitar riff continued, the drums kept the beat, but I was silent. It was as if the song had disappeared from my mind.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

The people in the front row began exchanging glances. Murmurs arose—low, but every sound seemed amplified, a buzzing that grew in my ears. From the corner of my eye, I saw my partner finish leading the song while interacting with the crowd.

My vision blurred. Sweat poured down my forehead, dripping onto the microphone. I closed my eyes, trying to remember the lyrics, the next note, anything that could pull me out of this abyss.

Nothing.

My mind was empty.

The silence between one beat and the next stretched endlessly. My chest tightened as if I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t afford to fail.

But I already had.

If I were smart, I’d avoid every media outlet in the coming days, knowing full well the headline would be about my second blackout on stage. That’s all I remembered from that moment—forgetting the words to a song I had written and needing my friends to finish the show for me. My phone buzzed nonstop with Gerard’s calls; he was probably having a heart attack over another potential cancellation.

We hadn’t even been back at the hotel long before I was on the street again. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. A few questions at the front desk and I found a car rental service. It seemed like the only way to clear my head for a while.

A light rain traced patterns down the windshield as I rested my forehead on the steering wheel, trying to control my breathing. Then the slam of a car door jarred me from my thoughts, and an overwhelmingly sweet perfume filled the air.

She flung herself into the passenger seat like an avalanche, her eyes burning with rage.

"Are you going to ignore me now, too?" Her voice sliced through the silence.

I raised my head but couldn’t speak.

"After everything that’s happened, after what that girl did to me, after everything I said this morning, you’re just going to do nothing?" She pressed forward, her words rapid, loaded.

"Get out…" My voice was low, drained. "Please, Scarlet."

"It’s crystal clear to me that you’re letting her get away with this because you’re too spineless to confront her!" she snapped, raising her voice. "But I won’t let her turn me into a punching bag while you make me look like a fool, Noah!"

Pain throbbed behind my eyes. I stared at the rain streaking down the glass, avoiding her gaze.

"Do whatever you want," I said firmly, side-eyeing her, "but I’m going to say it one more time: Get out of the car."

For a moment, she was silent, her eyes locked on mine as if trying to decipher something—or maybe waiting for me to back down. But I wouldn’t.

"You think you can just send me away like that?" she finally said, incredulous, a hint of challenge in her voice.

"Yes, I do." My reply was cold, final. I was past my limit, with no space for games or bargaining.

She let out a harsh, humorless laugh.

Then she pulled something from her pocket—something she had kept hidden until now. A piece of paper, crumpled like an opened envelope. Tension coiled up my spine when I recognized it instantly.

"Then maybe you’d rather I tell her about this." She held the letter out toward me.

My stomach dropped. There was no mistaking that paper. The letter from prison, informing me of Crystal’s whereabouts and her wish to see her daughter. The letter I’d hidden after intercepting it among countless pieces of mail.

"How did you…"

"Does it matter?" she cut me off, her eyes flashing with triumph and fury. "The question is what I’m going to do with it, Noah."

The rain drumming against the windshield was a distant echo in the storm inside my head. Scarlet’s hand trembled slightly as she gripped the letter—a weapon poised to strike.

"Someone’s going to be so upset to learn she’s been lied to about her dear mommy not looking for her. You, the master manipulator, kept it from her all this time…" Her voice dripped with scorn and glee, each word slicing like a blade.

My chest clenched, guilt tangling with the pain already pounding in my skull.

"I did it to protect her!" My voice cracked with desperation, not strong enough to drown out her laugh—louder now, almost deafening.

"And you think she’ll believe that?" she sneered, her eyes glittering with triumph as she watched me unravel.

Something snapped inside me, and my gaze shot to the dashboard. I turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life as I slammed my foot on the gas.

I wasn’t going anywhere in particular—I just needed to move. Pain blazed through my head, making my vision swim. The sound of cars fell behind as I sped past, ignoring every sign and signal.

My chest burned like fire, and I gripped the steering wheel so hard my fingers ached.

"What are you doing, Noah?" Her voice, now tinged with genuine fear, cut through the storm of my thoughts.

"You don’t know when to stop, do you?" I growled through clenched teeth, my voice low, dangerous.

The car hurtled down the road, the speedometer climbing higher. Scarlet clutched her seatbelt, her eyes wide with terror.

“Noah, stop it!” she screamed, her voice losing its arrogance as she gripped the passenger door handle tighter.

“Why should I? Isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted chaos, didn’t you? You wanted to see me lose control?” I shouted back, my own voice blending with the roar of the engine and the patter of rain. “I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM ME!”

“Noah, for God’s sake, slow down!” Her plea was filled with genuine panic, but I was already beyond hearing. “Stop now! I want to get out!”

The pain in my head was unbearable, a constant pressure threatening to explode, amplified by her words, by the sound of her laughter still echoing in my mind.

“If you want to get out, you’ll have to open the door and jump into the road.” My hands clenched the steering wheel, my knuckles white as I pressed harder on the accelerator. “I don’t understand why you’re panicking. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? We’re together now, darling!”

The empty road was a blur of darkness, lit only by the headlights.

“Noah, stop! You’re going to kill us!” she screamed, her voice now a near-hysterical shriek.

But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

Then came the crash.

The impact was brutal—an earsplitting sound of metal twisting as the car slammed into the pole ahead. Chaos erupted: shattered glass, the dull thud of the airbag deploying, breath caught in my chest. For a moment, there was silence. Only the faint sound of rain, now mixed with the muffled ringing in my ears. I blinked several times to clear the colored spots clouding my vision until the world came back into focus.

I was motionless, strapped to my seat, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Scarlet lay beside me, her face streaked with blood, unmoving, unconscious.

And for the first time in hours, the silence was worse than the noise.

“Sir?”

Her voice was calm but carried a subtle edge of concern as I sat on the back of the ambulance, my eyes fixed on the frantic movement of people around me. I held a makeshift bandage to my forehead, feeling the relentless throb of pain.

“Can you tell us how the accident happened?”

I lifted my head slowly, meeting the EMT’s steady gaze. Her neatly tied ponytail left her face bare, but her expression was unreadable. My eyes drifted to the other side of the road. Paramedics wrestled with the twisted wreckage, finally freeing the body of the red-haired girl from the driver’s seat. They placed her onto a stretcher with care, but the gesture was cold, clinical.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I turned back to the EMT, realizing she was still waiting for my response.

“She’d been showing signs of instability for days,” I began, my voice hoarse, each word weighed down with regret. “She assaulted my gir… my ex-girlfriend. She was getting more agitated, confused, and constantly threatening me.”

My throat tightened, forcing me to pause as I glanced away.

“Today, she diverted us from the route to a commitment with my band—she works as our photographer,” I continued, my voice thick with emotion. “We started arguing... I got scared when she lost control and started speeding faster and faster.”

The EMT didn’t move, her hands still resting on her hips, her face unchanged. She waited, her patience unwavering.

“Did she have any reason to crash the car into the pole at that speed?” The question was neutral, asked without judgment, but the sound of it twisted my stomach into knots.

“Because she wanted to kill me.”

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @do-it-jakey-baby

[deadpanwalking]

“No, I brought my own food. I brought pieces of lightly fried whiting. Chicken schnitzels in an egg batter. Tomatoes, which I ate like apples. Fried cauliflower. Pickled garlic. Marinated peppers, though these could be leaky. Sliced lox. Salami. If plain old sandwiches, then with spiced kebabs where your turkey would be. Soft fruit bruises easily, but what better inter-meal snacks than peaches and plums? (You needed inter-meal snacks, just in case.)

[...]

One of the few things that seem to make Americans even more uncomfortable than being very close to each other for six hours in cramped quarters is when the next person over keeps pulling tinfoil bundles smelling sharply of garlic out of his rucksack. (I was kicked out of a bed once for radiating too much garlic under the covers. It was my father’s fault, I tried to explain—in America he had converted to saltless cooking, and now garlic was his one-to-one substitute; I had just had dinner with my parents. “Downstairs,” she commanded.) With the extra peripheral vision that is a kind of evolutionary adaptation for refugees, persecuted people, and immigrants, I would sense, on the plane, sideways glances of savage, disturbed curiosity. Sometimes I swiveled and committed the unpardonable sin of gazing directly at my neighbor, whereupon her eyes broadened, her forehead rose, and the rictus of a stunned smile overtook her agony.

Sometimes we ate raw onions like apples, too, I wanted to tell her. Sometimes, the tinfoil held shredded chicken petrified in aspic. A fish head to suck on! I was filled with shame and hateful glee: everything I was feeling turned out at the person next to me.

I was the one with an uncut cow’s tongue uncoiling in the refrigerator of his undergraduate quad, my roommates’ Gatorades and half-finished pad Thai keeping a nervous distance. I sliced it thinly, and down it went with horseradish and cold vodka like the worry of a long day sloughing off, those little dots of fat between the cold meat like garlic roasted to paste.

I am the one who fried liver. Who brought his own lunch in an old Tupperware to his cubicle in the Condé Nast Building; who accidentally warmed it too long, and now the scent of buckwheat, stewed chicken, and carrots hung like radiation over the floor, few of whose inhabitants brought lunch from home, fewer of whom were careless enough to heat it for too long if they did, and none of whom brought a scent bomb in the first place. Fifteen floors below, the storks who staffed the fashion magazines grazed on greens in the Frank Gehry cafeteria.

I was the one who ate mashed potatoes and frankfurters for breakfast. Who ate a sandwich for breakfast. Strange? But Americans ate cereal for dinner. Americans ate cereal, period, that oddment. They had a whole thing called “breakfast for dinner.” And the only reason they were right and I was wrong was that it was their country.

The problem with my desire to pass for native was that everything in the tinfoil was so fucking good. When the world thinks of Soviet food, it thinks of all the wrong things. Though it was due to incompetence rather than ideology, we were local, seasonal, and organic long before Chez Panisse opened its doors. You just had to have it in a home instead of a restaurant, like British cooking after the war, as Orwell wrote. For me, the food also had cooked into it the memory of my grandmother’s famine; my grandfather’s black-marketeering to get us the “deficit” goods that, in his view, we deserved no less than the political VIPs; all the family arguments that paused while we filled our mouths and our eyes rolled back in our heads. Food was so valuable that it was a kind of currency—and it was how you showed love. If, as a person on the cusp of thirty, I wished to find sanity, I had to figure out how to temper this hunger without losing hold of what fed it, how to retain a connection to my past without being consumed by its poison.”

Boris Fishman, Savage Feast: Three Generations, Two Continents, and a Dinner Table (a Memoir with Recipes)

[sailorluna15]

Like Him by Tyler The Creator, but it's Azula and her family.

Azula being Lola Young's part of "Do I look like him?"

From Ursa's point of view, it's her seeing not only Ozai but herself in Azula. She sees how Ozai has infected Azula just like he infected her. She sees how she went from smiling like her, laughing like her, crying like her, dancing like her, singing like her, and even reading the same fairytale books she used to read as a child to imitating her father and abandoning everything that she loves and that's natural to please him.

Ozai sees himself in his daughter. He sees himself as a child in her. A calm, socially awkward child who struggles to make connections with others. A child who spends much time alone, drawing, painting, and playing make-believe. However, he also sees Ursa. When he sees Azula come home with two girls he doesn't know and look happier than she's looked in her entire life, it makes him envious. Seeing her sing, draw, and dance for her mother, cousin, brother, and friends makes him sneer. She doesn't need to do those things. Those things will do nothing but make her weak. He will make her strong. She doesn't need anyone but him. One by one, he chips away at her. Rubs poison on her gums and whispers curses into her ears. He exposes her to radiation and tells her symptoms are normal. He destroys her because she's more useful to him that way. She's more useful when she looks like Ozai than when she looks like Ursa.

Zuko stares at his sleeping child, and a memory flashes through his mind. He and Azula leaning on each other, sleeping soundly. He never thought in a million years that his daughter would come out looking like his sister. When Izumi smiles, laughs, gives attitude, dances, and shows repeatedly that she's quick as a whip, it reminds him of his sister. He wonders what life would be like if Ozai had been different. If Mom had been different. If Cousin hadn't died. If Uncle had taken her with him. If she had gone with them. If she'd had been more like a sister and less like an enemy. Even now, as their toxic relationship has turned into a weirdly close one, she refuses to come home. To return to her keeper. He tried bringing her to his chambers the first time she returned to the palace. She refused. He asks why, but she refuses to answer. He wants to push further, but she looks like she might break if he does, so he doesn't. He tries to get her to stay longer, as his daughter loves her newfound family member, but Azula pushes to go home. She pushes to go back home to the countryside with her wife. He lets her go and only sees her when his turtle duck dances to a concert of hers playing on the TV. Every time his turtle duck sees her Titi singing on stage, she asks when she's coming back to see her lovebug.

Mai gets a little jealous when she sees her old friend interacting with her new friends. She sees the little girl she became best friends with when she sees her with them. How she laughs, jokes, dances, and spends time with them reminds her of how they all used to be before Ozai. Fuck him. Why did Azula have to change? Why couldn't she stay the way she was. Funny, witty, protective, and kind in her own little way. Mai sees 'Zula in Azula. She wants to be friends with 'Zula again, but she doesn't know if they can ever return to that. She still harbors resentment and hate for the things Azula has done, but she still loves 'Zula. She always knew 'Zula was still in there somewhere, just hiding to keep safe. Azula's here because it's unsafe for 'Zula to be out. Azula protects 'Zula. Azula hurts others to protect 'Zula. Mai and Azula are cordial now. They laugh together about old times and about new things too, but Mai can tell it's not the same. Azula is always a bit guarded around all of them. She's protecting 'Zula. Mai guesses 'Zula doesn't feel safe around her anymore. It hurts Mai a little to know that Azula is the only version of 'Zula she'll ever see anymore.

Ty Lee is a little like Mai. She sees 'Zula, but she sees Azula more. She's happy Azula has changed, glad that 'Zula's. However, she can't help but wonder why she and Mai weren't enough. Why couldn't Azula change for them? She knows it isn't that simple. Azula was protecting herself the best way she knew how, but it still hurt to see her treat people she'd known since she was 16 better than people she'd known since she was 6. What's so special about them? Her new friends act protective whenever she and Mai are around. As if Azula needs their protection. As if they hurt Azula. She knows they fucked up with Azula, but Azula hurt them way more than they hurt her. They all agreed to let everything go. They both have apologized to each other and have shown growth, but things will never be the same. Azula won't even let Ty behind her. If she thinks Ty is behind her, she immediately turns around or maneuvers herself to where Ty Lee is in her line of sight. Ty Lee guesses it's only fair. Whenever Azula lights something on fire, Ty Lee creates a healthy distance and gets nervous. They're cool, but there are some things you can never forget.

This was supposed to be a little short but it got long. LEMME KNOW IF YALL WANT MORE.

[waddei]

I forgot theres still dream stans in this platform and i went to look at the dreamtag to see everyone clowning on him, and jesús maría Y JOSÉ his stans are on the exact same level of radiation poisoning dios mio

"Hes finally defending himself and biting back and reclaiming the credit that is his because tommy has been taking all the credit all these years" SIR??? Do we BOTH HAVE EYES?? WHAT??

Also sorry for comming here i cannot bother anyone else with this

defending himself... by xalling tommyinnit slurs

[swamp-chicken]

PACIFIC RIM AU PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ

I originally started writing this for hermicraft big bang like ... two years ago? and i was going to emotionally blackmail danya into doing the art. but then I kind of lost all interest in writing. still, I have a solid 1/6 of this fic written! i should pick it up again someday

an excerpt below.. ignore my notes to myself

Etho, the Etho, was a legend. Never mind that he was Bdubs’ inspiration to start piloting in the first place. The man had revolutionized the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, starting in the early years when he was an engineer working on the first generation of jaegers. And then, not satisfied with helping create one of the most advanced machines in the world, humanity’s only hope, Etho chose to step inside the jaeger he had helped design and became one of the first pilots. He had been the only scientist brave enough to step into the jaeger himself.

**with pause and beef???***He did it with full knowledge of the risk it entailed. Back then, piloting was even more dangerous than it was now. It wasn’t just the kaiju you had to worry about. Those days were pre-fission, pre-drift. There were the unshielded nuclear reactors, leaking radiation into the cockpit. There was the incredible neural load placed on the pilot as he maneuvered the jaeger solo. But still, Etho soldiered on.

And he kicked ass. 

For years, he was the hero of the world. You could run up to any civilian in the street and they would know who Etho was, as well as at least three random facts about him— what his favorite color was, favorite band— you name it. He was famous famous. His image was plastered on every PPDC commercial, he was sitting at every PPDC press conference. But the reason people really went crazy over him was how humble he seemed, like the perfect selfless hero. He sat quiet in the press conferences, he smiled and waved when it was needed. He started wearing a mask at some point, and whether it was out of shyness or germophobia no one every knew. But no one cared, it just added to the mystique. 

And Bdubs, well, Bdubs wasn’t different than anyone else, really. But his interest in Etho was maybe a bit stronger than his peers. He watched every fight, every press conference, every commercial. He typed out furious defenses of him in online forums, and stealthily saved photos of him to his hard drive.** more here

Etho granted only one private interview the entire time he was a pilot. It was an intimate half-hour, tastefully lit. Bdubs had stayed up past his bedtime to watch the interview live. He hung on Etho’s every word, memorized the nervous way he shifted in his seat, how he stumbled through his answers. And then the interviewer had asked it— The Question. “Why do you do what you do?”

Etho’s answer changed Bdubs’ life. He had shrugged, tentatively glanced at someone behind the camera. “Um,” he hummed, maybe trying to buy time. “I guess… I just like fighting aliens, I guess.”

Bdubs signed up for the PPDC the next day. 

For Bdubs, Etho was the inspiration. He inspired Bdubs to quit the latest of his dead-end jobs, inspired him to move across the country—towards the danger, instead of away—against the urging of his family, his friends, and his own common sense. He inspired Bdubs to enroll in the PPDC, to persevere through the rigorous and often discouraging training process. And it all worked out. After a rough start, Bdubs’ high drift compatibility scores starting rolling in and he was fast-tracked towards becoming a pilot. 

But during Bdubs’ training, things started changing. The jaeger, once unstoppable machines of destruction, were faltering. The kaiju were emerging bigger and more ferocious, fill of poison and spines and slavering for destruction. The jaegers started falling.

He still remembers where he was the day it happened. It was late November, close to 1 AM and the pilot trainees were clustered around Scar’s phone. Somehow he had managed to smuggle one in despite there being an explicit ban on outside tech. A new kaiju had appeared— a mark 3, the biggest one yet, and Team Canada had been sent to dispatch it. The footage was blurred with rain, the pacific rocked with an early winter storm.

Peering over his comrade’s shoulder, squinting at the tiny screen, Bdubs could barely make out the kaiju and jaeger battling. The kaiju stood almost twice the height of the jaeger. The video was shaky. The film helicopter must be miles away, using a telescoping lens.

The jaeger threw a punch that the kaiju, snakelike, easily avoided. Then the kaiju belched and bright acid exploded from its mouth, drenching the jaeger’s left side. 

“Oooooh!” the trainees chorused, and Bdubs felt a pit in his stomach.

“Look,” Grian pointed out. “I think their arm is disabled.” And it was. The jaeger’s left arm hung limply. The acid must have eaten through the muscle cables.

“They’ll be alright,” Bdubs said, but he couldn’t keep the nervousness out of his voice. “Etho only needs one arm anyway.”

“Such an Etho stan,” Grian mocked. They all had discovered his obsession early, and ruthlessly teased him about it. “I don’t know, dude. This doesn’t look good.”

The jaeger struck out again, this time with a nearly-executed kick. It made sold contact with the kaiju’s leg, bringing it down. Then, in a move so smooth it looked choreographed, the jaeger brought its right arm down on the kaiju’s head, smashing the creature below the waves.

“See?” Bdubs crowed, looking around the room triumphantly. “A broken arm can’t stop him.”

But no one looked up. “Bdubs…” Scar said. 

Bdubs glanced back at the screen.

The kaiju had some kind of tail. It was prehensile, it was clawed. And it was tearing away at the jaeger cockpit.

Bdubs leaned forward. On the tiny phone screen, it was impossible to see details past the rain lashing the camera. Suddenly, the footage seared white, and then, darkness. The entire room held its breath.

Gradually, the footage resolved. Nothing was visible absent the helicopter spotlight, panning across the uneasy waves.

The video cut, and the tinny voice of the newscaster filtered through the static in Bdubs’ ears: “…no life signs from… could mean they have been removed from the pons… not necessarily deceased…”

The room was dead silent. Then: “Shit,” Grian whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

For Bdubs, there were no words. 

Later, he would learn that Beef and Pause had been ripped from the cockpit by the kaiju, killed while still tethered to Etho through the drift. And that Etho, controlling the jaeger on his own, had still somehow managed to bring the kaiju down, jamming the jaeger’s plasma pulser down the kaiju’s throat and discharging until he there was nothing left. 

The found the jaeger collapsed on a remote stretch of coast on Vancouver island. 

And then… nothing. No news from the PPDC, no media appearances from Etho. There were tons of rumors, of course. The solo drift had fried his brain. The radiation had finally caught up to him. The emotional and physical pain of his partners dying in the drift were enough to cause a psychotic break. But regardless of the reason, Etho was never heard from again. 

It was a year later that Bdubs got his pilots license. When he first entered the drift, it was in a very different world than the one Etho had fought in. The kaiju were bigger and meaner. The jaeger tech always seemed to lag a step behind. And the humans were losing.

But now he was back. And he wanted to drift with Bdubs. 

Cleo cocked her head at him. “Do you want to maybe come with me to command?”

[writing-whump]

This is super basic but I haven’t read one in a while, maybe you could write Matt getting food poisoning and feeling really bad, and throwing up a lot?

I'm combing this with a request from @pearlprompts to see more of Matthew's sisters, hehe.

Warning for emeto, scat, sickness stuff.

...

Food poisoning

"I told you not to eat those hotdogs on the street," Seline said in a scolding tone.

Matthew wished she showed more sympathy to his suffering. He knew the wolf meet/conference whatever presumtious thing it was called was important, that Isaiah inviting them to one was special.

But the breakfast they had was so basic and when he imagined waiting through those weird talks until lunch, he threw himself at the first hotdog stand he could find.

Around lunch, his stomach was hurting and gurgling so much he couldn't stand straight.

Isaiah and Seline promptly evacuated him from the oh so precious city hall of Salzburg. The city was basically build around a big mountain in the middle with very pretensious castles and important buildings on the river shore in the shadow of it. Very fitting, symbolically for a wolf meet.

Matthew was currently occupying one of the chairs in their small hotel room, bend over a trashcan and drooling into it, feeling positively miserable and pathetic.

"Seriously, just go-" he interrupted himself with a burp that turned into an empty gag. "Just go back. Don't miss out on the programm."

Isaiah stood in the hallway, suit and coat on, looking neutral but tense. When he was in his public Executioner mode, his emotions weren't as obvious. There was flatness to his tone, his posture was more rigid, the focus on his shadow and his mask.

There was a lot of networking to be done and Matthew felt more and more guilty he wasn't going to be at Isaiah's back. Who stood behind you and next to you apparently mattered a lot in these meetings, though Matthew understood more of it instinctively than intellectually. Half of the hints and meanings went right past his head, if not more.

Not only was he not being an asset right now, he was actively hindering the mission Isaiah came here for.

Isaiah didn't talk about it. He didn't say it out loud, make a speech or call them all in to make an announcement. But they have all noticed, one way or another, that something significant shifted about his attitude.

The Executioner mask came up more often. His shadow was more active, more visible, more on the nose. The power that radiated from him made wolves and humans turn their heads. Isaiah went form being inconspicuous to very present in a just a few weeks.

Matthew could guess most of the reasons. Shawn. Rip. Vienna was unsettled, filled with strays and mad wolves, and humans were in some kind of easy to anger mood, complaining about several world ending crisis left and right.

Matthew couldn't care less what humans worried about, their concerns very far away from survive, fight, eat. As long as you had that, Matt was glad for every new day.

But the general atmosphere seemed to matter to people who looked out for such things as wolf standing in politics. Isaiah was very good at picking up at such signs, for reading the room and identifying problems like that without trying.

And right now, he was trying.

Seline noticed that too or she wouldn't have come. Wolf meets and the wolf community issues seemed even less interesting to her than human community to Matthew. Maybe worse, she sported a certain disgust at anything pack or witch related, for a reason Matt and Isaiah had yet to figure out.

So when Isaiah asked them to come—which he did rarely if ever—they both said yes before they asked what it was about.

Matthew looked at his pack leader, thinking of all those reasons that left them here. "Man, for real. Go. Take Seline with you and do the networking shit or whatever it is." He spit into the bucket in his lap, swaying drowsily. "Nothing to miss out on here. I'll hurl some more and pass the fuck out."

His stomach was still bloated to the max, like he ate two lunchs instead of losing two breakfasts to the sewer system. It hurt too, at weird unpredictable timings.

Right now, despite the constant nausea, it was hurting a lot more down below. His intestines were having a glass shard party that involved breaking wine bottles over his cell's heads.

Matthew groaned and curled up around his middle, letting the bucket out of his grip.

Seline jumped at the sound and came closer, adjusting it so it was straight and close to the reach. "Think you could hold down some medicine? I have some pills-"

Matthew shook his head. "Nope. Will just come right back up." Even when he wasn't throwing up, the queasiness was constant and unrelenting. He felt like he was floating on a boat. Everything was disgusting and every swallow was dangerous.

He couldn't believe it was so easy to do something so horrible to oneself.

Seline stroked some hair out of his sweaty forehead. "You are such a moron."

He shuddered under her touch. There was new pressure building in his lower belly that was starting to demand his attention. He realized he might actually be better off without an audience for this one.

"You guys go. Seriously. Check in on me between events and be on dial, but otherwise, I'm fine." The red haired wolf forced himself to straight up a little, tensing as he counted the steps to the bathroom. They only had one and the room was rather small to get away from the sounds. "Please go."

Seline frowned. "First you are asking for sympathy and now you are kicking us out? What do you-"

Isaiah grabbed her by the elbow though, obviously picking up in Matthew's discomfort and it's source. "It's 20 minute with a cab. Check in regularly," he said, in a tone that very much felt like an order.

Matthew nodded, feeling the pressure to obey. It made him wonder if Isaiah realized how much of a power his voice carried, when his shadow was this close to the surface.

Switching between being a wolf Executioner and the Isaiah at home obviously needed some fine-tuning.

Matt let it slide, nodding in gratitude. When the door finally closed behind them, he sprinted to the bathroom at once, his bowls turning upside down with a vengeance.

...

Three more trips to the bathroom and two rounds of empty retching and Matthew was glad to fulfill his promise and pass out flat on the bed.

On the big double bed that was Isaiah's, really, and should have been Seline's too. He missed not having their smells linger and mix together, wanting to feel close to them both at once. Ah well.

Around four in the afternoon, he woke up to intense before-a-sundown-light glaring right into his face.

It was the last light of the day. The evenings came early and the cold lingers way into the morning.

Matthew sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes. His stomach gurgled, but it didn't actually hurt after six hours, half of that spend puking. Food poisoning was intense, but at least it was quick to pass.

He wasn't eager to actually return to the wolf party and try to figure out how his standing or manners whatever translated into shadow, dominance and power language. Just the thought made his head hurt.

Instead, he temptatively tried out a glass of water. It fell heavily against his stomach, but didn't increase the nausea too much. He took one of the powder bags Seline prepared for him that were supposed to calm the digestive tract or whatever.

It seemed settled. Maybe he could try to catch some of that sunlight.

Texting Isaiah and Sel in their common group that he was going on a walk, he got himself a jacket to not look suspicious to humans, though the cold didn't bother him at all and headed for the river.

Salzach was a big deal here, historically making the city the main point of bussiness with the salt, that Salzburg was named after. Now that he was alone, breathing the crisp air, Matt wondered if he could tempt Seline and Isaiah away on some kind of historical tour. There was a lot to sightsee here.

Matthew would have liked to do some running, but just getting to the river on his two feet proved to be a challange. He was ridiculously weak, panting for having to go down the hill. Every street following the river form one side seemed to he up a hill.

Maybe he would need Isaiah to come get him, after all. How was he supposed to climb that up?

Thankfully, he soon found a bench he could collapse on. With a nice view. He was sweating and tired, content to watch his breath turn into steamy clouds.

He almost drifted off a little, when a sudden crashing sound had his head turning. Honestly, outside, he really should be paying more attention. Especially when so many packs gathered in one town.

When he opened his eyes, he nearly fell off the bench himself.

It was a girl that fell down on the ground. Short dark red hair cut into a short bob. Round glasses with no rim. A face he could not forget.

"What the-Maddie?"

Madelaine Blackwell was his younger sister. Melissa was the oldest, Marcella the youngest. Meredith and Maddie were both in the middle after Matthew, as he was the second oldest.

But Maddie was not even a year younger than Matthew. They were born so short apart like his mother hoped that after a shadow wolf son, she was more likely to get another supernatural child.

It didn't work out. Maddie and Meredith were both failures. Until Marcie.

Neither of his sisters were a failure for Matthew. While Melissa was always trying to please their mother, Maddie was like a twin to Matt. They were always together, always playing, insuperable. He spend his childhood, before his shadow properly developed, playing tug and war with this girl.

"What are you doing here?" Matthew said finally, dropping his hands to his knees, leaning forward.

Maddie looked away self-consciously. Her eyes were a pale blue colour, almost violet. "There is a wolf conference. Blackwells are attending."

She kept her gaze lowered. That was the proper behavior for someone raised around shadow wolves. Look down, speak carefully. Suggest things, never order them around, never criticise them. Assist the control over their Shadow's bloodslust as much as possible.

Matthew knew that, but he had been apart from people who followed this for far too long. He was used to crowds, though he still didn't like them. Heck, he went to university and he was fine.

He tried very hard not to take his sister's behavior personally. But then she hugged herself around her chest, trembling a little and he knew this was very much personal.

Matthew was shocked, anxiety spiking in his stomach. But since she was there, he at least had a chance to look at her. He knew they went to the same faculty, that she was good at maths just as he was.

Her slim small built didn't change that much since she was 16. Never worse glasses before. Her favourite colour, by the looks of her neon orange jacket and beet red pants was still the same.

Matthew couldn't even feel any wolves around following her. She must have been able to move around the city freely.

He stood up, offering his hand. "Did you get hurt? Wanna... get up?"

When she closed her eyes and cringed in response, his heart fell. Quickly, he sat back down. That was a more submissive, less dangerous position for a wolf. It signalled there was no attack coming.

Matt slid as far away from Maddie on the bench as possible, something deep in his breaking at the idea he couldn't even touch her to help her up after a fall.

"Guess years of her talking your ear off do that to ya," he said quietly, not sure if he ment Melissa or his mother.

Maddie didn't seem eager to get up though. She pulled herself to her knees on the freezing pavement, so she wasn't touching it so much, but she didn't leave.

"At least you aren't cursing me outright," Matthew said into the awkward silence, when he couldn't stand it anymore.

He had hope somewhere inside that Maddie might have wanted to see him...that she was different than Melissa. Melissa hated him out in the open. Maddie might have wanted to visit, if mother didn't have her wolves watching, her phone controlled, the girls isolated.

"You look good, Mads," he continued. Maybe talking like a normal human, holding a conversation, would calm her down. There was no guarantee, but this was the first time since he could talk with her without interruption in years. "It suits you. The glasses too. You don't look all that much older. I like the colours."

But she was so much more frightened. Frozen. Why, then, when he wasn't even there? Why didn't she live boldy and happily, if fear was why they were forbidden from seeing each other?

Or maybe he should just leave. This was torture. And he would not inflict it on her, if his presence was the cause.

"See you around, Mads. Get inside before the sun sets." He hoped that couldn't be interpreted like a threat but a friendly, concerned recommendation.

Matt got to his feet, turning his back to her. For people who knew the language, it ment trust, letting someone at your back. Not that he had anything to fear from a human.

From a sister.

Out of view, he didn't push the anxiety back as much. It exploded in his chest with a sick sticky feeling...that he would have considered normal, if he wasn't throwing up just a few hours ago.

His stomach twisted. Not one to get sick from nerves, but the walk didn't exactly do him good either, shaking things up. A loud, menacing gurgle echoed through the street. He would have been emberassed, if it didn't hurt like a knife to the gut.

Matt groaned, doubling over his knees. The nausea returned at once, with dizzying speed. He reached back with his hand for the bench to stay upright and spit at the ground.

"M-Matt? W-what's wrong?"

Her voice didn't help. Guilt, shame, anger and plain grief shot through him at once. His stomach twisted and jumped to his throat and he retched over his feet.

"Is it your shadow? Is it pressing you too much?" Maddie was on her feet now too, closing in on him.

"It's not-" he gagged and then a wave of vomit rushed out. He vend forward with the force, barely missing his boots. "Not the shadow-bad...bad food...urgh." His throat jumped with a burp.

"Sit back down," she said.

Matt listed, mostly because his legs wouldn't hold him much longer. The shakiness was back full force, reminding him that he was running low on liquids.

Another painful cramp had him balling his fists on his pants, bending forward. He burped another mouthful of puke between his feet.

Maddie was standing over him, a tentative hand on her back. Feather-light. Like she had forgotten her fear for a second.

Matt cleared his mouth, eyes flickering to her. He didn't dare look at her too long.

"You should lie down. I'll call you a taxi, yeah?" She got her phone out, but her hand still rested on his back. Finding him a taxi on an app.

"There. Will be here in 5 minutes. Hold on till then, okay?" She crouched down next to him, her hand sliding up to his shoulder and then his arm. Not breaking the contact once while she stood there, waiting for him.

Matt wanted to thank her. Ask her. Tell her something more substantial. There could still be a chance to fix this.

He spend those crucial five minutes biting back groans and drooling, saliva hanging of his mouth.

Maddie still held on to him, rubbing his arm. "You're gonna be alright, okay?"

He didn't dare move or reach for her. Scared to break whatever fragile balance was created here.

Where the cab got there and she guided him to the car, he wished she could go with him.

He wished he had said what he really thought.

I miss you...

[shruiee]

Omg I love your Bloody Baby series! Could I request like an update where maybe reader is in danger and gets hurt and ends in fluff? If anything I would just love more updates 😭😍🥰

you asked and I deliver :)

warnings: blood!! (duh) major injuries, not very realistic but in fanfic so don’t give me a hard time. just lots of gory blood stuff okay :)

synopsis: Nyra and Daemon go out hunting for The Seven, Nyra gets poisoned and ends up hurting baby (badly!) Daemon saves the day,

masterlist | bloody baby series | vampire au

A/N: I’m in hurt/comfort mood.

There was nothing, they had been at it for a week— shady fuckers never stayed out long enough to leave a scent.

Daemon had to raise a toast to their religious determination for sure, spending over a millennia hunting them— their kind. Wasn’t an easy task to keep up with a growing population, they had another reason for their relentless search this time. A secret that was hidden so well even they couldn’t find it, a possibility of cure from the last Great Weirwood tree.

A tree that should have burnt when the Night King was taken down, but its own powers saved it. The blasted thing was out there, somewhere far north, even modern technology had not ventured that far out and neither could they.

“There is nothing, two weeks and nothing!” Rhaenyra sighs into the phone.

There was news of a deal being struck at a very special kind of apothecary, and if the Seven pokes their heads out now, when they are more exposed then ever. It would have been for a damn good reason.

“We should head home, lingering will do us no good.” Daemon hummed, circling the hotel room where his enemies laid in.

Rhaenyra hums on the other end, a faint sound a zipper rumbles on the other end before she speak again.

“Be careful my love.”

“Always.”

Rhaenyra let go of her phone, picking up her bags to carry them to her car. She missed home, it wasn’t like she could sleep— ever. But she missed the feeling of laying in a soft plush bed with her husband on one end and you in the other. She missed the touch of pure human warmth against her skin, the sound of a beating heart under her.

Her senses however caught a whiff of something else, the deceived tug of something being missing, something looming around the corner bothered her. She froze by the door of the abandoned building, her ears hearing everything from miles away, cars, motorbikes, children crying and a dog howling. Nothing went unheard, just like the distant sound of a thudding heart. Very prominent by the second.

Out of the blue, a hooded man comes at her, too powerful for human but not quite quick enough as she dodges his blow, grunting as she whacks her bag against the side of this man. From behind her, the sounds of gunfire echo, pointed wooden bullets lodge themselves into her back.

Motherfuc—

Painful, effective but not enough to take down a vampire of her calibre. She reaches down to duck more shots, tearing the heel of her shoes and launching it at the person with the gun. The pointed heel launching itself straight in their neck, blood guzzling out of their mouth as the person fell to the floor twitching, succumbing to death.

The second man still taking his shots at her, pushing her hard against the cement walls of the building.

Rhaenyra’s hand curled around his neck, hoping to tear his head off his shoulders.

The man bares his fangs out wide, snarling before digging into Rhaenyra’s throat, pulling a chuck out in the process.

She screams, kicking the man’s knee so hard it breaks— he falls to the floor grunting. A bloody smile to his face as he accepts that he has no way out.

Rhaenyra huffs before plunging her hand deep into his chest, pulling the his frosted red heart out of its cavity, letting his body grey into nothing.

Pain radiated through Rhaenyra’s body as she reached behind to pull the six wooden bullets out of her back, the wounds small enough to stop bleeding immediately but her throat, it was throbbing in pain.

She had to feed, she had to go home. The wound was healing but she hadn’t feed enough for it to heal entirely of its own. She stumbled out of the building, using a piece of her torn dress to stop the bleeding as she some how managed to speed home. The sheer will of not wanting to kill an innocent took her home, to the vast fridge of blood bags waiting for her.

The car seat she sat on was soaked in blood as she grunted out of her BenZ, she looked up to her castle and suddenly her perspective shifted. She turned behind for a moment, her car no longer there but an ornate carriage. She shook her head hard, this time she saw her car.

With relief she stumbled into the castle, making beeline for the kitchens as quietly as she could, she didn’t want to wake you. She didn’t want you to see her like this— you couldn’t cope from the blood and she knew it.

When she opened the doors to the kitchen, instead of very modern stainless steel appliances she was treated to stone walls, massive pots placed on wooden stoves, the aprons of maids hung by the door. She shook her head once more.

Kitchen— her kitchen

She proceeded to rip open the door into her walk in bridge of all the blood she could want, she reached for the first bag closest to her and took a big swig— her pain dissipating for a moment as she rested her hot head against the ice cold fridge shelf. She took two more swigs before reaching for two more bags and exiting the fridge.

She was once again greeted to a medieval stone kitchen. This time she was terrified

What was happening to her

The open wound on her neck began to rip into her, she screamed in agony as she fell to her knees.

The blood pooling around her in the kitchen, she peeled her eyes open, trying to compose herself enough to call for Daemon.

She was still created by an old kitchen and woman she wished she had killed with her own bare hands.

Few feet from her stood Alicent, a bloody smirk on her face and a stake in her hand.

You woke up to the sound of crockeries rattling, other than a few security detail outside. No one should be home.

You tried to rub the sleep away from your eyes as a certain excitement filled your chest.

They were home

You happily pulled yourself out of bed, wrapping your fuzzy teal robe around you and taking your water cup along with you as you padded down the cold tiled hallway and down the main stairs.

You heard more thrashes, wondering if it was Rhaenyra and Daemon yet again very passionately professing their love for one another. It seemed a hobby of theirs to completely destroy a room as they fucked away their fill.

What you were met with instead was bloody footsteps, dragging from the main doors headed towards the kitchen. This time you were cautious, reaching for the closest silent alarm in the main foyer and picking up an old heavy candle stand. You know you shouldn’t, you should go upstairs and lock yourself in there until help comes, but then you see more blood—puddles of it leading into the kitchen.

You see a hand poking right out from the kitchen doors, as you turn the corner you see your detail, men dressed in black clothes— dead men dressed in black blood soaked clothes.

One body, two body.

When you move into the kitchen, you hear rustling behind the massive kitchen island. You hold the candle stand with both hands in front of you, ready to swing it at whoever was behind it. As you turn another corner, you find silver hair soaked in blood and a distinct red colour of a dress.

“R-Rhaenyra?” You stuttered, fear losing itself so deep in your bones but also concern as she turns to you.

Then you see it, the hefty chuck on her neck oozing blood as she sucked the blood out of one of the dead men meant to be protecting you.

Her eyes are dark, face stained red with chucks of flesh hanging from her lips.

“Wh—“

“Run.”

“L-Let me help you.” You whimpered.

“D-darling I need you to run.” She cries.

“But”

“I said go away!” She screams at you, eyes red and wild.

Tears pour from your eyes as you hesitate, you begin to walk backwards, everything in you wanting to fix Rhaenyra— to be with her until Daemon returns but as you keep walking back. You foot slips in the puddle of blood and you fall backwards, hitting your head at the edge of the island in the process before splashing into the thick red liquid.

Rhaenyra turns to you once more, she was there one moment and she shook her head again.

This time she charges at you, landing on top of you as you push her face away screaming.

“Rhaenyra please!” You cry out, hoping that she is in there somewhere.

You however were no match to her strength, she easily caught onto your wrist— a little pressure from her end and then throbbing pain shot through your arm.

In the moment of adrenaline, you reached next to you, giving Rhaenyra the perfect aim for your jugular. She bites in as more pain shoots up your spine.

This time you catch onto the jagged candle stand and stab her right through the back, Rhaenyra retreats, sitting over you but you don’t hesitate and plunge your weapon straight to her heart.

Rhaenyra freezes, the veins in her body go blue as she crumbles next you, her body grey and eyes life less.

You had no time to witness what you had done, some how without slipping in the pool of blood again you race out of the kitchen and up the stairs into your room and then your closet. Using your entire body to push a white dresser in front of the door before cowering behind the rack of coats.

The aderaline still coursing through your body, you look at your bent wrists, you cry out— the blood covering you and Rhaenyra.

She wasn’t there but—

You killed her

Daemon had already been driving home, after collecting some more information from his insiders he too shared the same need to lay in the arms of the two women he loved. The streets were dead enough from him to feel the might of his car’s engine as he blasted music.

What caught him off guard however was the security alarm notification that popped up on his watch, if he wasn’t already flooring the gas he sure was now. Racing to get home, Rhaenyra should have been home by now— that gave his heart some comfort but he sped nonetheless.

What he was greeted with was gruesome, cruel. His eyes were seeing things but he couldn’t process them.

Blood to the kitchen and blood up the stairs.

“Rhaenyra!”

“Y/N!”

He screamed, within a second he was in the kitchen. The room stunk of death, the bodies of his hired detail laid scattered across the floor, and in the pile a head of lovely silver hair stained red.

“Rhaenyra…” he sighed, fingers grazing at the iron candle post in her chest.

He placed her body back down, this listening hard for a faint heartbeat that was very much present. He rushed up to your room to find it empty and thuds of your heart echoing from your closet. He pushed against the barred door, huffing unwanting to scare you any further.

“No…no please.”

He heard your weakened cries as he pushed down the door to find you sitting against your long coats, a shawl pressed up against a heavily bleeding wound and your left wrist bent backwards.

Your lips were nearly blue as weakly cried and stuttered.

“I- I killed her.” You repeated over and over again, refusing to be held by Daemon.

Daemon bit into his wrist, letting blood ooze to the surface before pressing them to you lip, almost forcing the liquid into your mouth as you repeated the same phrase in shock.

You sat against him, letting the vampire blood do its work, Daemon could hear your bones realigning as he soothed you with his hands running down your back and nestling your hair. Once healed he effortlessly lifted your limp body and carried you to the bathroom, he placed you on the sink counter. Letting your body rest against the pink walls as he filled your claw tub with warm water.

If you were conscious enough to see it, it tore him from the inside to see you covered in the blood, the faint marks of your still healing wounds and the lifeless pain behind your eyes. His wife laid temporarily dead in the kitchen that he very lovingly made her breakfast this morning in.

He undid the cuffs of his dress shirt, pulling them up his forearms before gently taking off your night shift, he saw more bruising slowly fading away as he deposited you into the warm water.

The sensation seemed to have shot life back into you as you gasped, you looked up at him wide eyed, with so much pain and concern.

“I’m sorry.” Your eyes pooled “I hurt her, I- kill-“

“She’s fine, she will be fine.” He cooed, pulling the hand shower to wash the blood away from your hair.

His fingertips feeling the head wound shut itself as he washed away the remaining blood. It took nearly an hour to wash away all the blood from your body.

You switched from states of sobbing uncontrollably where he would have to stop and calm you and just staring mindlessly at the red water you sat in.

“Sshh, you are safe.”

“You did good, so good.”

“I know it hurts,” he kissed your temple as the last of the wounds healed themselves.

He had plucked you away from the bath, once again dressed and tucked under the heavy sheet of their shared bedroom instead of yours.

Even tucked in, your eyes pooled once more. He didn’t want to do it but he was yet to pick up the pieces of his wife just yet.

His cold palm rested against your cheek as he wiped away the falling tears.

“You have to sleep.” His eyes dilated.

You whimpered and nodded, your eyes soon after fluttering to slumber. He sat there for a moment, listening to your heartbeat and watching as the frown from your face melted away.

This was close, too close. Rhaenyra was indestructible, you however were a dandelion in the breeze.

She was holding back, she was in there. If she wasn’t, you’d be dead and that’s the kind of weight that would destroy Nyra for the rest of her miserable eternity.

Daemon pulled away, locking the doors to his bedroom from the outside before heading down for Rhaenyra.

All he could think of as he pulled the candle stand from her chest and carried her to the Iron Cells was how close he was to loosing everything.

To loosing you.

Andddd that’s a wrap, I missed writing for this series so much but I crunched it down in one go.

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