#not the only thing hes blowing by the sounds of it.

[cutehoons02]

The Ice Prince loves the Ice Queen?

University series: Heeseung Jungwon Jake Jay

*pairing: pervy ice skating Sunghoon x queen ice skating Girl

*trope: Good boy/Bad girl - oppositive attractive

*synopsis: What would happen when the perfect world of the Ice Prince as well as one of the most famous, cynical and good skating boy of Korea must share its sanctuary as well as the ice chest with a "Bad girl" In all respects that she doesn’t care about the rules and that she likes to tease everyone especially Sunghoon? Sunghoon doesn’t want distractions but despite his ability to not mind those crazy rags, Y/n has a personality that defies every rule, attracting the attention of everyone, especially Sunghoon

*tags: Lots of tension between the two protagonists, they love to tease especially the female protagonist, sexual tension, Sunghoon stalked her on social media, possession, jealousy, fluffy, semi-public masturbation (massage room) (f. receives it) unprotected sex ( don’t horny ppl) pussy drink, pet names (noona,bad girl,doll) (ice prince,hoon,hoonie) Sunghoon is a little shy? a lot of kisses, suck, the girl is a bratty, Sunghoon is a little obsessed with her,Sunghoon is a bit territorial with her but slowly he understands that he likes it both physically and also carraterially because she’s the only one to keep them in front.

9.4k (⛸️)

(English is not my native language)

Sunghoon is already on the ice, as always at the perfect time. He slid with absolute grace, his face impassive while training. The few present observe him with admiration, but the attention of all shifts when the building doors are opened with a blow. A metallic sound echoes as a pair of skates are thrown to the ground with little grace. Sunghoon looked at the entrance of the arena and raised his eyes when he saw you "Y/n, The Ice Queen" the queen with dresses too short for judges, the social media queen while flirting with all her fans, and the queen of the ice rink for 5 years now, you won all the medals and competitions in the country but the only thing that was missing was the elegant behavior that all skaters had. Sunghoon was not at all happy to have to share his kingdom, especially with another "queen" because he was the ice Prince and would soon become the King of the track when he qualified for the Olympics.

"So this is where the legendary Ice Prince trains... What a bore, I was expecting something more impressive."

Sunghoon stopped and turned slowly. In front of him is a girl with her hair gathered in a high tail, the national team jacket thrown over her shoulders with carelessness, and a bold smile on her lips.

'And you would?' he said with a casual attitude, but inside, his heart was beating very fast. He knew who you were actually since he had seen you live five years ago when you were still a teenager stalking all your social networks. He saw all your races and, for a time, saved your TikTok.

"Oh, that’s polite. You should know that already. But let’s pretend... my name is Y/n. Your new training and college companion."

Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, then turned to catch up skating. You raised an eyebrow, amused by his indifference.

"Oh, wow. Not even a 'nice to meet you'?" you thought you were the ice prince, not an iceberg."

Sunghoon stops again, sighs, and looks at you with icy calm.

'If you’re here to train, put on your skates. If you’re here to waste time, the door is that way.'

You laughed at his bad joke, without breaking. You bent down calmly to put on your shoes, watching him from under your cloaks.

"Cold as they say, eh? Who knows if you’re so cold underneath even in more... intimate situations."

Sunghoon barely jerks, but he quickly comes together, clenching his jaw. For the first time, a shade of redness touches his cheeks. You laughed and were satisfied with his reaction.

'You’re here to skate not to flirt with me.'

"Oh, whatever you say, prince. Let’s see if you can keep up."

And with a fluid movement, you jumped on the ice, brushing it with confidence and lightness. Sunghoon watches you for a moment, then he squeezes the blades and leaves, determined to show you who rules on the ice.

He hated you, couldn’t stand you, you were his nightmare, he didn’t tolerate your behavior for 2 weeks now, your cheeky to always arrive late, to flirt with all the guys, and especially to be so beautiful at the same time.

He should not have been there that night.

Sunghoon had stayed longer than expected at the arena, mentally reviewing his routine, seeking perfection as always. But when the music had begun to resound in the empty arena, something within him had shrunk. He thought it was an intruder. An ordinary idiot who had snuck in to play on the ice or one of those idiots from the hockey team; but when his eyes were set on the figure that was gliding naturally under the dim lights, his breath had cut into his throat.

It was you.

Not only were you sneaking - which is already annoying enough and illegal for the rules of the arena - but you were doing it with a magnetic intensity, a raw energy that he had never seen in anyone else. Your blades cut the ice with frightening precision, your body moved with an innate confidence, fluid and dangerously sensual.

Damnation.

Sunghoon instinctively moistened his lips, hiding in the shadows of the grandstands as he watched you. He had seen a lot of your performances live but mostly for TV or on social platforms but you were something else. The outfit you were wearing was tight at the right point, leaving little room for imagination. The way the fabric adhered to your legs, the way your body bent into perfect curves...

He should never have looked at you like that. But he couldn’t turn away.

He always found you annoying. Too cheeky, too casual, too... everything. But on the ice, you were another story. At that moment there were no provocative jokes, nor arrogant smiles. Just you and the ice, one with the aggressive music that resounded in empty walls.

When you landed a triple lutz without the slightest effort, Sunghoon felt an adrenaline rush rushing down his back.

You were one of the best skaters of the new generation and maybe for him, you were the best. It wasn’t just admiration for your technique - no, it was something more dirty, more visceral.

How can she be so damn annoying out of the ice and so... charming on top of it? He wondered as he watched you as a stalker as you danced.

Sunghoon’s fingers clenched. He had to stop looking at you. He should have stopped you, maybe even reprimanded you for breaking the rules, for being a goddamn rebel again.

Yet he remained there, hidden in the shadows, with his heart beating a little too fast and thoughts that he should never have had.

Sunghoon had instinctively stooped behind the balustrade, his heart pounding in his chest. Damnation. He should not have been there. He should not have looked at her like that. And most importantly, he should not have had... that kind of reaction.

But it was too late, when the music stopped you looked up and found yourself a few meters away near the railing that marked the path to enter the ice rink. You whistled lightly and a sharp whistle broke the eerie silence in the cold air, followed by your much too amused laughter.

"Well... who do we have here? Maybe my number one fan pretending to hate and despise me?"

Sunghoon felt himself sinking. Slowly he looked up and found you staring down at him with a satisfied grin, hands resting on your hips as you swung your perfect hairstyle. The black suit stuck to your body after the forbidden skating session, and it did not help the situation in which Sunghoon found himself.

He tried to keep a cool air, but the redness on his cheeks betrayed him. And to make matters worse, he felt the pants become slightly... Luckily the balustrade provided a physical barrier between him and his decidedly uncooperative ego. He was very well equipped to do so.

'Don’t make me laugh. Why should I be a fan?' he mumbled, turning his eyes away from you.

You leaned against the railing, tilting your head slightly as you watched him with those eyes full of mischievous fun.

"Mmmh... I don’t know, maybe because you were staring at me with your mouth slightly open? Did you like the show, huh? Didn’t know you liked sneaking around, Hoonie." You got too close to him for his taste.

Sunghoon held his breath as you leaned over him, until you were a few centimetres from his face and then felt a very slight touch on his mouth. A shiver passed through him when your fingertip touched the bottom of his lips.

"You know while skating earlier, I noticed something nice..." you said whispering with a funny smile.

Sunghoon swallowed, eyes chained to his own, unable to move.

"Your mouth was slightly open... almost as if you were holding your breath." You slightly tilted your head, the finger just tracing the contour of his mouth "Or maybe..." you bit your lip, pretending to reflect

"Maybe you drooled a little? Mh, don’t tell me I left you breathless."

A heat wave hit him hard. Sunghoon felt his jaw clench as his pride was stabbed by those damn provocative words.

Sunghoon almost growling, tightening the balustrade with force not to react instinctively said: 'Do not say bullshit you did a simple performance, nothing special and that I had never seen.'

You woke up slowly, almost amused by his reaction and words. You touched the bottom of the lip with your thumb again, as if you wanted to check if there was something there.

"Nah, you’re fine. No slime... Shame. It would have been nice to see you so vulnerable, Ice Prince." you said in a sweet but mischievous voice.

Sunghoon felt his self-control crumble.

'Stop acting like a rebel you shouldn’t be here at this time, you’re here for 2 weeks and you’ve only brought chaos.'

You chuckled, getting even closer to him. "Hmmm? You didn’t seem like it. You look quite... upset."

Sunghoon swallowed. You were so close now, leaning on the railing with your face a few inches from his. He could smell your slightly sweet scent, in contrast to your bad girl attitude.

And then, without warning, your fingers crept into his soft hair, stroking it with an exasperating slowness. Sunghoon stood still, every muscle tensed like a violin string.

"They’re softer than I thought... very cute, Hoonie." Whispered, with a smile as sweet as it is.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, desperately trying to keep control.

'Stop it, Y/n.' But he didn’t seem to be very convinced by his own words.

And you, of course, did not listen to him and leaned even more, until your face was touched with a warm breath, causing a shiver along his back.

"We have a secret now... Woe to you if someone finds out, I like skating without those silly rules that I have to follow from how many jumps I do or the music I put on; it’s the only time of the day when I can be myself and release all the stress." You said whispering them near his ear now quite red maybe because of the glacial cold inside the arena or maybe because you had teased him enough

Then, with the same grace with which you had skated away. But before you left, you took a small step back and cast a satisfied look at him, purposefully shaking as you left the track.

Sunghoon stood still for a few seconds, unable to move, breathing slightly erratically.

Damn it. You were a problem. Big, damn problem no girl had taunted him so much in his life and who the hell did you think you were?

The party was lively, music resounded through the walls, and the boys laughed and joked while drinking something light. Sunghoon, for once, felt at ease with his friends; it was rare to see him relaxed out of the ice, but in the company of other members of Enhypen and TXT, He could forget for a while the pressure of the track and the upcoming race to qualify for the 2026 Olympics in Italy.

Sunghoon leaned against the counter, sipping his drink. Jake was next to him, talking to Heeseung about nerd video games. He was about to make a distracted comment when a familiar sound and laughter made him turn away instantly.

The voice and laughter of Y/n made him look up to heaven.

Sunghoon frowned, following the sound until he noticed a figure that should not be there. Y/n was friendly chatting with Jake’s girlfriend, laughing with that laugh he knew too well.

But it wasn’t his laughter that was driving him off the road, it was the way you were dressed. A black tight-fitting dress wraps your body perfectly, revealing more than he could bear without feeling the blood rise to his cheeks. Above, a short leather jacket that lets you see the shoulders and a black choker that seems to shout provocation. On the feet, high heels that made your legs infinite.

Sunghoon clears his throat, trying to look away, but his eyes seem to have a will of their own. It felt strangely hot, and it was certainly not because of the crowded pub.

<< Hey, are you all right? >> asked Jake noticing his mood change

Sunghoon looked up, trying to keep his cool

'All right. Just... her.' he nods to you, without hiding the annoyance in her voice.

Jake chuckled, amused by his reaction << Oh, Y/n, the ice queen? Yes, she’s friends with T/N. Didn’t you know?"

Sunghoon sighs deeply, trying to calm down.

How was your friend the sweet girlfriend of one of his best friends? You were the perfect representation of a "bad girl" always in search of rebellion and breaking the rules instead of Jake’s girlfriend was a vlogger where he made reviews of books full of love and cute things!

But when you turned and saw him, the smile painted on your lips made him even more nervous.

"Oh, look who’s here. My dear number-one fan! Don’t tell me you were following me here too, Sunghoon!"

Sunghoon approached with an impassive expression, but his cheeks revealed a slight redness.

'I wasn’t following you. It’s you who appears everywhere, like a problem that doesn’t want to be solved.'

You burst out laughing, completely ignoring his irritated tone "Problem? Interesting choice of words. But... you don’t seem so upset."

You approached him, pretending to fix a tuft of hair, but letting your perfume wrap it. Sunghoon clears his throat again, trying not to look at you, but the short dress and the way your leather jacket exposed your back didn’t make it easy.

Hoon clenched his jaw, looking down at you ' Don’t you think it’s a bit... too much for an evening like this?'

"Too much? Oh, honey, that’s just the minimum. I can’t go around in my skating suits, can I?" You chuckled, leaning nonchalantly against the counter, purposely showing the line of your leg.

Sunghoon felt a shiver down his back. He tried to think of anything else, but the mind played tricks on him, proposing the image of you on the ice, with those same provocative movements.

You came even closer until your fingers touched his arm

"So, Sunghoon. are you going to spend the whole evening sneaking around, or do you want to offer to keep me company? You know, just to show everyone how close we are... on the ice."

Sunghoon took a step back, trying to regain his composure.

"Stop playing and flirt with me is not your pastime. And cover yourself, you’re drawing too much attention," he said in a brusque tone.

You approached his ear, whispering in a low and provocative voice

"Jealous, Hoon? How sweet are you when you’re so protective of a girl older than you!"

You walked away, turning around with a satisfied smile, shaking as you approached the girls' table. Sunghoon follows you with his gaze, unable to decide whether he would like to shout at you and put you in your place or come closer to you again. Sunghoon to himself, biting his cheek

-It’s not jealousy. It’s... control. You just don’t have the slightest sense of decency. Right?-

But a fleeting thought crosses him, warming his face even more. 'Damnation... how can a party become a battlefield?'

Sunghoon couldn’t take his eyes off you, even if he wanted to. He watches you laugh and joke with a tall, brown-haired guy who seems too interested in you for his taste. Every time that idiot comes closer, you laugh louder, leaning towards him with mischievous. And Hoon knew it was obvious that you were doing it to tease him and drive him away.

Indeed, now and then your sparkling eyes would gaze upon Sunghoon, studying him with that brazen smile he knew all too well.

Sunghoon squeezes the glass harder than necessary. What the hell is she doing? And why do I care so much?

The boy leaned towards you, whispering something in your ear. You laughed again, letting your leather jacket slip off your shoulder, revealing your pale skin under the dim lights of the room.

Sunghoon feels the heat rising inside him, like a pressure cooker ready to explode, and in the end, he can’t take it anymore.

He gets up and goes across the room with long, determined steps. When he comes to you, you have understood that your beautiful game of provoking him was bearing fruit, he did not say a word while he looked at you badly: he grabs your wrist gently but firmly and drags you away, leaving the boy with whom you were talking slightly confused.

You were not entirely surprised by his reaction and you were amused, you let yourself be carried away without resistance with a satisfied smile on your lips.

"Hey, where are you taking me, Ice Prince? You don’t seem like the type to grab girls from the pub."

Sunghoon doesn’t respond until he drags you to a more secluded and isolated corner of the room, away from the eyes of others. Then, finally, he looks at you with eyes burning with frustration.

'Stop acting like that.'

You bowed your head, pretending not to understand. "Stop what?"

Sunghoon tightens his jaw. '

To act like this, you don’t need to get the attention of all the guys at the club. You don’t need to flirt with anyone who looks at you.'

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms with provocative air.

Flirting? Hey, it’s not my fault I’m beautiful and others notice me. Maybe you should get used to it, hoonie is my specialty flirting and getting everyone’s attention."

You came a step closer, the voice that was lowered to become a whisper.

"And then... who told you I wanted to get all the kids' attention?"

Sunghoon stops for a moment, his breath short as your words hit his stomach like a punch and he looks you in the eye, trying to figure out if you’re joking or not.

'Then what did you want to do?' You smile, this time more softly, and raise your hands to rest on his chest, sculpted tight in a black shirt, where he raises his toned chest. Your little fingers clasp on the tight black shirt, feeling Sunghoon’s irregular heartbeat beneath it.

"I wanted to attract the attention of only one boy... but it seems that he needs a little help to understand."

Before Sunghoon could answer you lifted your toes slightly and put your lips close to his neck. You felt a gentle scent of wild fruits and the smell of some mixed sweat from Hoon’s skin. You started with a light kiss, then another, until you felt him stiff under you, Sunghoon leaned against the wall, unable to move, as the heat spread over his whole body.

"Doll..." The word escapes him before he can stop, and is full of confusion, desire, and a touch of submission that irritates him.

Laugh softly against his skin. "So good, Hoonie. You know how to make me feel important."

Then you went back to leave another kiss on his neck, this time more forceful, sucking him slightly, Sunghoon clenches his teeth, trying to keep control, but every fiber of his body seems to betray him as he puts his big hands in your backside to draw you closer to him.

'N-Noona...' The voice is husky, almost appealing to him, invading you in all senses and you put your breasts into his chest and rubbed them slightly while you continued kissing him, giving little bites to Hoon’s ethereal skin. You wanted to brand him, you wanted them to understand that you understood that he had a little twisted obsession with you and you wanted him to find the next morning a nice gift in his neck, so he would be ashamed but also remember what you were doing.

"You like me so much, Hoon?" you ask, biting your lip with amused air.

Sunghoon looked away, the redness that warms his cheeks and it was lovely to see him so helpless, where was the cynical ice prince who spoke all in the pre or post-race. 'Be quiet.'

You woke up again, stroking his chest with a light touch. "Don’t worry, Hoon. It’s our little secret... remember?"

And with a last kiss on the neck, you slowly drifted away, shaking as you returned to the center of the room, and before you had gone away, you turned around and threw a kiss with your hand. Sunghoon remains motionless, with one hand still on his neck where you had left the mark. His breath is irregular, and in his head, there’s only one thought: I’m fucked.

University ice rink

Sunghoon skated with the usual elegance and precision. Every jump was calculated to the millimeter, every harmonic step. The ice was his kingdom, the place where he never made a mistake, his home, his outlet valve but at the same time of millimetric precision because if you were wrong the ice would not easily forgive you the mistakes. With the upcoming race for the Winter Olympics qualification, he had no time for distractions, had been raised by his family to win at least one Olympic gold medal and he had wanted her since he was 4 years old with all of himself and no one would be able to distract him from his n*1.

Or so he thought.

On the other side of the track you were doing your program, but the stern tone of your coach was getting more and more insistent throughout the block. Many boys and girls were giving you curious looks, all putting you on the pedestal except your coach and maybe the Ice Prince.

Your Coach exasperated yelled at you for the thousandth time that day -Y/n ! Your triple flip is completely off-axis! You have to close the rotation faster, otherwise you will keep landing on the wrong foot.-

Sunghoon turned to you to understand why for over an hour he only heard screams from the opposite side of the ice rink as you attempted to jump again. Your blades incised the ice with initial grace, but then, exactly as before, you misbalanced the rotation and landed in an unstable way, spreading too much the foot of support.

Your coach sighed heavily, reaching her forehead

-I can’t believe you’re still getting this item wrong. You had a perfect landing last week! You lack control and if you behave like this at the race next weekend they will beat all the newbies. Maybe you should look at how Sunghoon does it.-

At those words, Sunghoon felt all the glances on himself. It was not intended to intervene in your training, but certainly could not refuse to show you again who was the best and why everyone called him the ice prince of Korea. He was silent for a moment, then nodded slightly as if it were obvious.

With a fluid movement, he picked up speed and prepared for the triple flip. He had performed that jump countless times, and as expected, the landing was flawless. The dry sound of his blade cutting through the ice resounded in the track, and his posture remained perfect, without any hesitation and some children sitting in the audience looked at him with open mouths.

You crossed your arms, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Ugh, what a bore. Ice Prince is perfect as always."

Sunghoon turned to you, noticing the way you were passing your tongue against his lower lip with a pensive look. His coach immediately pressed you:

-Did you see it? It must be so! Try again until you do not exactly will not leave the hut.-

You sighed, then went back to the track and prepared for the jump and Sunghoon watched you carefully as he was speeding.

One Over. Three steps. Spin... and then a wrong landing again.

One more time.And again. And again. After the fourth consecutive mistake, your coach gasped exasperately and shook her head.

-What’s wrong today?! You’re distracted by nothing! Maybe Sunghoon should follow you step by step. Maybe his discipline will teach you something, I always told you that it is an extremely good example to take even if he is two years younger than you is the representation of perfection.-

Sunghoon felt a slight discomfort. He had never trained anyone and with you... it would not be easy. But then his eyes came on you, there was something strange.

You were wrong, of course, but the way you did it... it was not random. Your posture was too relaxed, your landing almost deliberately imperfect. Your mistakes seemed... controlled and Sunghoon opened his eyes.

Wait a minute... is she doing it on purpose? He thought as he looked at you, he looked better as you prepared for the umpteenth attempt, but there was a shadow of a smile on your lips and when you were wrong again, your gaze fell directly upon him.

Sunghoon crossed his arms, his eyebrow slightly ruffled as he watched you skate with an innocent air.

"Oops. I’m really bad today, huh?"

Sunghoon felt a shiver of discomfort mixed with... more. Why, damn it, were you looking at him like that? As if you were enjoying seeing his reaction?

He approached you slightly, lowering his voice in a barely audible tone.

'Stop acting like a child, you know I’ve figured it out you’re doing it on purpose right?'

You flashed your fake eyes surprised by his words, putting a hand on your chest with theatrical air "I? Why should I?"

Sunghoon looked at you. "Because you are impossible and love to attract the attention of everyone."

You chuckled, with a smirk as it bites your lip "Or maybe I like to attract the attention... of someone in particular."

Sunghoon felt a sudden heat rise to his head. His heart made a small leap in the chest, but immediately recovered and passed a hand through his hair, exasperated, while you threw him a last mischievous look before returning to the center of the track. Sunghoon turned to the coach, trying to look as impassive as possible.

-Can you follow her around for a few laps? Maybe learn something from yourself. -

Sunghoon nodded reluctantly but as he approached you, he couldn’t help thinking that once again you had found a way to make him play by your rules. And the worst? He was falling for it.

The hot shower water was running on Sunghoon’s skin, loosening the tension of his muscles after a grueling workout, the race for the qualifiers was close and he had to be perfect and flawless as always. No mistakes, no hesitation, no distractions, and with the head focused only on skating.

He passed a hand through his wet hair, sighing but nevertheless, his mind kept returning to something or rather, a person, you were now fixed in his thoughts and every day was a continuous struggle against himself not to fall into your trap.

You were the representation of the girl from whom he had to stay away because you were a rebel but also because you would mess with your problems.

You stayed to try the program even after everyone had left. Stubborn as you were, you wouldn’t give up until you had executed that damn double Lutz perfectly. Leaving the locker room Sunghoon with his hair still wet and a towel saw you there again, alone, your body moved towards the track to perform all the sequence of your race program: steps, transitions, trotters... Everything is perfect, except for that damn double Lutz.

Once again. And another time. And another time.

Unstable landing.

Wrong landing.

Failed to land.

Sunghoon leaned on the railing, watching you. You had your hair in a mess, your breath in a stupor and your eyes burning with frustration yet you kept going until you heard a dull noise: your body falling on the ice and then, the sound of a broken breath you were in the middle of the track, Collapsed on the ice with hands covering your face while you were breathing hard and crying like a little girl.

Without thinking twice, he ran to the locker room and quickly put his shoes back on. He returned to the track and slipped towards you, stopping by his trembling body, Sunghoon knelt beside you and with a firm but gentle tone said to you:   

'That’s enough for tonight.'

You looked up at him, your eyes bright with tears and full of frustration and with a broken voice, trying to keep control of the screams.

" It’s not your business, Hoon. I don’t need a babysitter, let alone a kid who thinks he knows everything."

Those words struck Sunghoon but they did not make him back, instead, he leaned down towards you and gently took your arms, trying to help you get up.

'Won’t leave you here to destroy you. No sense, tomorrow is another day and I’m sure you’ll do well.'

"I said I don’t need you!" Sunghoon wavered for a moment, but then his face hardened and he took you firmly by the hips, lifting you and you watched him with surprise as you tried to wriggle again but he wouldn’t let go.

'Stop treating me like a kid! I’m trying to help you, Y/n!' and he came closer, his face a few centimeters from yours. 'You’re not invincible. I know you’re tired. I know it hurts. But you don’t have to face it alone.'

You were stuck and your hands pressed weakly against Sunghoon’s chest but your voice seemed to have broken.

He looked at you with intensity, his dark eyes fixed on yours, and at that moment something inside it surrendered.

With a sudden surge of emotions - anger, frustration, but also a deep desire - he lowered his face towards you and kissed you.

At first, the kiss was hard, full of tension and anger. His hands were holding your hips tightly as if he was trying to make you understand how frustrated he was. But then, slowly, the kiss changed. He became sweeter, slower. His lips moved with a delicacy that contrasted with the initial fury as if he wanted to convey to you everything that he had not been able to say with words.

You were initially surprised but found yourself returning the kiss immediately and your hands relaxed on Sunghoon’s chest, sliding towards his shoulders and feeling the warmth of his body, the way he held you, and he understood that he was not only there to judge you or prove himself better. He was there for you. When you two separated, you were out of breath. Sunghoon looked at you and his breath was irregular and his cheeks were red.

"I’m not your enemy, Y/n. And stop treating me like one. I can be what you need... if you let me."

You looked at him for a moment, still confused by the emotions that had overwhelmed you. Then, with a light tired smile, you shook your head.

"You’re too perfect for me, Hoonie. I’m complicated and sooner or later everyone leaves."

But Hoon did not move from you and gently smeared a cheek on your face and pulled a strand of hair from your face.

'I like complicated things Y/n, otherwise, I would not have chosen to base my whole life on skating!'

Hoon came near you again and this time it was you who took him by the collar of the sweatshirt and slammed your lips in his, his hands went to lean into the tight of your leggings, Hoon wanted to hear you all by himself and he got a slight moan when you put your tongue in his mouth and at the same time pulled his hair. When you left for a moment you looked at him with a mischievous smile and whispers, with a roaring voice and full of intention:

"Hoonie... don’t you think this is a little too exposed?"

Sunghoon stared at you, puzzled, as his gaze wandered towards the empty runway.

"The massage room is right there. How about that?" you said with a slight whistle, pointing to the door behind them.

He hesitated for a moment. He had always followed the rules, and always kept control but with you every barrier seemed to collapse. At last, he nodded slowly, taking your hand and leading you to the closet.

The massage room was small and poorly lit, with a padded bed in the middle and some shelves full of towels and oils. The door closed behind you with a slight click.

Sunghoon turned to you, you quickly approached, holding his waist and pulling him for another kiss. This time it was you who took control, your lips moving with confidence as your hands slid under Sunghoon’s sweatshirt.

"This sweatshirt looks good on you, but... I think it’s better on the ground."

Before Sunghoon could answer you pulled the sweatshirt in one fluid movement, revealing his tight t-shirt and his well-defined chest, and wasted no time: your lips moved along his neck, Leaving small kisses and slight bites that made Sunghoon shiver.

'Noona...' The word slipped from his lips without him being able to control it you stopped for a moment, looking at it with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.

"Noona, huh? You like to call me that, Hoonie?" you chuckled laying your hands on his chest and drawing little circles with your fingers.

Sunghoon determined not to let you have complete control, grabbed your legs and lifted you with ease, making you sit on the massage table. You looked at him surprised by the force with which he had moved it, but you did not have time to say anything. Sunghoon’s hands lay on your hips, squeezing them lightly as he approached you again.

'Do you think you’re the only one who knows how to tease, Noona?'

Smiles, but your breath was speeded up when he felt Sunghoon’s hands slipping into your leggings, stopping just above the fabric of your panties and you looked him in the eye, challenging him to continue.

"Prove it to me, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon did not make him repeat it twice. Your hands moved along Sunghoon’s shoulders, pulling his shirt up. When the shirt fell to the floor your fingers explored her chest with a light touch and full of curiosity.

"So perfect, like an ice prince, but with so much fire inside." You chuckled as your kisses descended on Sunghoon’s neck

Sunghoon shivered at his touch, but he was not willing to let you have the last word. With a sudden move, his hands fell on her hips and she took off your leggings with a brusque movement and found you only in panties.

'You... you’re the queen who knows how to make me lose my head but let’s see if today it will be you to lose your head for me, doll'

Hoon gently laid you in the cot and you obeyed immediately and leaned slightly lying on the edge of the cot he started to touch your thighs lightly until he touched the fabric of the panties and when he moved it slightly he saw that you were already Excited only for him.                           

'So pretty' cursed Hoon licking the finger he had just touched, 'Sweet as I imagined' moaned, fingers going on your clitoris to feel more of your moisture.

He moved slowly, sliding his finger over your swollen clitoris and rounding it through the fabric of her panties. There is an intense amount of heat rising between you two. The way you are positioned with him, his large frame that traps you between the edge of the cot, and his big hand pushing inside you doesn’t help you feel any less aroused. You can feel it becoming slippery the more pressure it puts on your clitoris. " Please...I need more", you murmured as if you were embarrassed by your own words.

'Since you’re so shy to ask this kind of thing Y/n?' Hoon has been looking at you and thinking about you like that for months. Let his finger get in and slide as you take off your panties, now pressing directly on your lump. Your back bows because it wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world but also because you were waiting for him to do more "Hoonie.." whimpering. He looks up from your pussy and is so happy to hear his nickname comes out of your lips in that position and sees your thighs twitch; you cried when he added another finger, Pushing it in and then pulling it out until only the tips of his fingers remained inside.

After a while he started making circles on your clitoris, repeating the action and licking his fingers before returning to work, he wanted you to come with lips that shouted his name because there would be no other guy and from that moment you were hers.

"Fuck" you moaned when he increased the pace of his fingers fucking you. His fingers worked so well, and you never doubted that he had talent when you looked at his beautiful hands with those super long, tapered fingers that were hammering you at the time and making you come.

Sunghoon saw your orgasm coming, your chest moving heavily up and down as tears stung your eyes, and he had to show you that even though you said he was smaller than you were he was the one making you have an orgasm in an almost semi-public area.

Your stomach was twitching and your legs were filled with chills, you felt your orgasm approaching quickly. You tried to warn him, but it took a clever movement of your bud with his thumb to push you over the edge. Your body trembled at the intensity of your orgasm, his nails stuck in his tufts of hair, Hoon put a finger around his lips and sucked it in front of you and saw how his smile was a little shy? But at the same time proud to have made you come, his big hands pushed you to sit down and he drew his forehead with yours while you were still breathing slightly exhausted.

You would never have imagined that he was so good and an unhealthy idea took hold in your mind and with courage you asked him: "Do you know what I think? We could be... friends with benefits. Would you like it, Hoonie? No complications, just fun."

The words came out as a challenge, but you didn’t expect the reaction that Sunghoon had, he stopped completely for an instant and then started to laugh, a deep and warm laughter that resounded in the closet. You looked at him in surprise and you punched him lightly on the chest.

"What’s so funny? I’m not serious enough for you?"

Sunghoon stopped laughing and leaned back towards you, this time taking your face in his hands and looking at you with a determination he had never seen before.

Sunghoon with a firm and serious voice told you. 'Noona, don’t get me wrong... but if you think for one second that I want to be just a friend with benefits, you’re mistaken.'

You slightly flashed your eyes, surprised by the strong tone of his voice.

'I want more. I want you. I want you to be mine and not of anyone else, if you can’t accept it, then tell me now but don’t ask me to be anything less because I know that underneath you like me and don’t make it difficult because I see how you look at me, Y/n."

Hoon’s words left you breathless. For a moment you just looked at him, trying to figure out if he was really serious. Then you smile, a sincere and slightly embarrassed smile something rare for you.

"I didn’t know you had so much passion, Hoonie, and that you were so territorial with me," you said in a whisper, as your hands slid down Sunghoon’s chest.

'Told you, doll. When I want something... I don’t give up and it must be mine and no one else’s.'

And with those words, your lips met again, but this time with a new intensity. There was no more hesitation, no more games.

The racing noise filled the arena you were sitting in a corner, on a bench with headphones firmly on your ears. The music was supposed to help you calm down but the knot in your stomach didn’t seem to melt.

That hateful little pastel dress made you feel out of place. It wasn’t dates, it didn’t represent who you were on the ice but to qualify for the Olympics that day you had to act like a doll. You wanted to dominate the track with intense colors, with clothes that spoke of your true essence: passion, strength, sensuality. Instead, here you are wrapped in a layer of blue dress that made you feel more fragile than you wanted to admit.

Immersed in your thoughts, you did not immediately notice the figure that had entered the room. Only when you felt a light touch to your ears, he pulled you back. The headphones slipped away, and there was Sunghoon in front of you.

'It seems that our Queen Ice is not so sure of herself today.'

You puffed crossing your arms, but the fast beat of your heart betrayed you, Sunghoon was beautiful with his impeccable black suit and some silver decoration on his shoulders, his hair was extremely fluffy and his sissy didn’t light up anything good. Sunghoon’s touch had been so gentle, almost affectionate, and now he looked at you with that typical ice prince expression: unflappable, but with a gleam in his eyes betraying something else.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine."

Sunghoon lowered his face a little, bringing it close to yours. One of his hands lifted and with the back of his fingers touched your cheek and you felt the heat rise immediately, but you tried desperately to remain impassive.

'Oh? Then why are your cheeks so red?' he said giggling

You stiffened for a moment and then, with your usual sharp tongue, I answered: "It’s just for the cold, stupid. You should know we’re an ice-box."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his reply. 'Really? Too bad we’re indoors, Noona.'

You felt your ears go up in flames. He was too close, too sure of himself that day, and it made you crazy. You tried to maintain your usual confidence, but couldn’t help biting the inside of your cheek, a sign that you were more nervous than usual.

Sunghoon watched you in silence for a few seconds, then with a sweetness that completely shocked you slid a lock of hair behind your ear.

'You don’t have to be nervous, you know? I bet you’ll beat everybody out there and qualify for the Olympics with an absurd score.'

His voice was so warm, so reassuring, that for a moment you forgot to provoke him and felt a shiver running down your back, but it wasn’t just because of the cold of the track.

"I’m not nervous. And I don’t need you to be my babysitter or my supporter anyway." Sunghoon smiled and walked away, leaving you with his heart gone mad. But then, with a suddenly darker look, he stared at you again, barely tilting his head.

'Okay, okay. But if you need me...' (came closer once more, his voice lowered to touch your ear) '... you know where to find me, Noona.'

You tried to answer with a sour joke, but he interrupted you with a lower, more dangerous whisper.

And Sunghoon with a sure smile continued saying 'And who knows... maybe, if you do well today...' (he stopped for a second, letting the silence full of tension make you crazy, then tilted his face even more, until he touched your jaw with his lips) 'and if you behave during the race, tonight... I’ll make you mine.'

You stared for a moment, the breath-stopping in your throat. Sunghoon’s voice had been soft, slow, insinuating. The way he said it, without any hesitation, as if it were a fact, made you vibrate inside.

You saw him lift his chin with a satisfied air before moving away, leaving you there, weak legs and heart pounding.

"Damn Ice Prince..." you said, biting your lip to hold a smile.

You were staring at the ceiling of your room, still incredulous. You had won. You had made that damn jump to perfection and qualified for the Olympics but what kept coming back in your head was not the echo of the public in delirium or the congratulations of the coach.

It was the voice of Sunghoon.

"If you behave tonight I’ll make you mine."

Those words had made you miss a heartbeat. Was it serious? Or was it just a provocation to motivate her?

You put a hand in your hair, still in the outfit from home: oversized sweatshirt and short shorts. You couldn’t deny it during the whole award ceremony you had looked for him with your eyes and you exchanged a friendly glance, but nothing more. Sunghoon had disappeared soon after, busy with the celebrations with his team.

"Tsk. I knew it, just a provocation." you thought, sighing."

You were about to get up to fetch water when the bell rang and you flashed your eyes. Who the hell could it be at that time?

With your heart beating harder, you approached the door and opened it without thinking too much.

And there, in front of you was Sunghoon.

Slightly damp hair, a sign that he had just taken a quick shower. The unbuttoned jacket and the suit pants fell perfectly on his athletic physique. But above all... that look. A look that instantly melted you.

You didn’t even give him time to say a word. Without thinking, you grabbed him by the collar of your jacket and lured him inside, closing the door with one foot before kissing him with all the intensity that you had held for days. Sunghoon was not surprised, but he kissed back without hesitation, immediately squeezing you by the hips and pushing you against the entrance wall.

The kiss was hungry, deep, full of all that had not been said until then and Sunghoon’s hands moved on your back, making you shiver.

You just took off, short of breath, dark eyes fixed in his.

"So it wasn’t just a phrase thrown there to motivate me, huh?"

Sunghoon smiled, looking down at your still-wet lips. Then he looked back at you intensely.

'Noona, do you really think I would say something like that without wanting it?'

Sunghoon wrapped your legs around his pelvis and you kept biting his neck and groaning him until he sat in your big bed you eagerly took off his sweatshirt and did the same with yours, his hands immediately went to tease your breasts full already turgid and began to tease the buds of your breasts now sensitive and you continued to run through his chest tonic with your hands and at the same time to lay kisses and mark it on the neck. An involuntary groan of satisfaction slipped from your throat as you felt Hoon tickling with one hand the entrance of your short, crisp shorts, feeling how his cold hands ran along the edge of your panties, and with a surge of safety you moved your hips, A light and insecure movement at first, but which made Hoon sigh against its length still fully covered. Hoon’s reactions were what you needed to continue and you turned your hips harder, making him throw his head backward against the padded keyboard of your bed; His eyes darkened when he saw you biting your lips and with glazed eyes he made you rise slowly from his legs and slid the short shorts down your legs.

"What are you planning to do me Park Sunghoon or Ice Prince" you said to ask between kisses and deep sighs.

'Thou shalt find out' murmur against thy lips. 'And thou shall love every second of what I will do to thee this evening. You felt your legs tremble and you rubbed against him even harder, making him moan softly and bite your lips hard. Hoon stopped your hips, pushing you down a little lower than it was enough to unlace his pants and a slight moan came out of your lips when you saw his Calvin Klein boxers slightly wet in the middle.

Hoon slipped his hand back into your panties, the tips of his fingers slowly crawling over the thin tissue tickling you.

"Hoon" moans.

'Tell me what you want' he mumbled against your mouth.  

'You must tell me, doll. Where’s the cheeky girl I met a couple of months ago?'

At that moment he liked to be a bit of a provocative asshole, finding fun in the way you react and your body trembled at his touches. Sunghoon slips your panties off and her finger finally makes contact with your clitoris.

"Please" you tried again, refusing to say it out loud.

'Doll I want you to tell me, use your beautiful little mouth to talk!'

"Hoon, please..." you started but failed again as he felt you now your shiny and excited pussy

"Poor ice queen, you can’t even use the words are you so desperate to have me?..." he made fun of you for all those times when he felt trapped with you

"Park Sunghoon, I swear to God if you..." your words were interrupted by a moan when he stuck his middle finger in your wet pussy, smiled when he saw you fight again with the words, Only because of him and was definitely a real booster for his ego.

'If I...?' suggested, provoking you again as he slid a second finger, bending it to hit that specific point that makes you tremble and writhe in his ears due to the stretching. You leaned forward, placing your hands on his chest and hiding your face in the hollow of his neck.

You felt a knot forming in the lower abdomen and bit his shoulder to relieve the sensation, moving your hips alone, chasing the peck he was giving you as he pumped and curled his long fingers against you.

Your groans became louder and more frequent, and Hoon took them as an incentive to go faster, always aiming for the point where you would react in the way he liked.

"Hoonie, more please" His name-related groans left your lips and you stuck your nails harder in his shoulders.

'Come for me doll' he whispered in your ear as you came, his name left your mouth like a song, while your body became even hotter and ready to have his cock inside of you. Hoon kept moving his fingers, slower this time to help you get off your high; When you relaxed a moment with slightly trembling hands you looked at him carefully and made a nod to you with the head and pulled out his cock that came proudly to his hips. His red tip shone for the pre-ejaculate, the veins sticking out on the skin, making you tighten your pussy excited, you were as unfocused as it was perfect his cock and you ran your tongue in your lips.

You grabbed his cock by aligning it with your pussy. You went down slowly, holding your breath as you felt it opening you inch by inch. His hands grabbed your hips harder, pushing you down to help you keep moving.

'Fuck you’re so tight, Y/n.' Groaned when he reached the bottom. Despite the urgency that Hoon felt to move, he remained motionless so you could adapt to his size. Groaning for the discomfort, not being accustomed to its size, but somehow the initial stretching was quite pleasant and you felt it already almost completely inside you have raised your hips, you waited a while trying to prepare yourself emotionally and you lowered yourself again slowly Hoon closed his eyes and bit hard on his lip. He wanted to take things at your own pace, but he seriously needed to take you and he roared slowly with the need to destroy you and have you all to himself.

You accelerated little by little, gaining confidence as you moved, but it wasn’t enough yet and your thighs were burning with effort. You tried to go ahead, wanting more grunts and whimpers from Sunghoon but you were extremely excited but at the same time tired when you felt him get inside your pussy all the way.

'What’s the matter, Noona?' he asked, caressing your hair to comfort you.

"Tired.... I need to have you inside me but you must take the reins" you whispered. After a few seconds of silence, you heard him laugh.

"The ice queen maybe a little spoiled wants me to do all the work? Where is the cheeky girl who teased me every day? '

"Please, Hoonie"

Sunghoon pulled himself out of you and he put you leaning on your pillows and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so that you could kiss him again and surround his waist with your legs. Hoon can only think of how you will be his death, but that moment does not last long because he is pushing again inside you and this time he is seriously in charge and his pushes are not at all delicate.

Groaning louder, feeling it deeper than before until he felt his hand lay in your stomach and with a grin said to you 'Look how you’re taking me at this moment Noona, I’m hammering you so deep in' groans at his words and also by the intensity of how your pussy could take her cock divinely.

"More, Hoon" you asked and he happily acquiesced to your whining.

He holds your thigh, puts it over his shoulders, and places an arm on the bed’s keyboard to support himself, going even deeper. You feel your intoxication coming for the second time that night and unintentionally you get around him, making him growl and go harder.

You pulled his hair, coming again and this time Hoon followed you, pouring his sperm inside you. The feeling was overwhelming, something you had never felt before and did not imagine feeling so soon, much less not being in a relationship with this person that made you crazy every day.

You were lying beside Sunghoon, breathing still as you tried to recover, and could not believe how intense that moment was, like every touch, every look, and pierced heart. You sunflower on your side to look at him: he was leaning against the pillow, his hair disordered and his chest that rose and fell regularly, with an expression of satisfaction but also of quiet sweetness.

"You know... I didn’t expect you to be like this."

Sunghoon turned to you, eyebrow slightly raised.

'So how?' he said with amused

You looked down while playing with his hands.

"So... real. You were the only one who didn’t treat me like I was made of glass. As if I was something to protect, to keep away from too strong emotions or too intense moments."

Sunghoon looked at you intensely, his dark eyes looking for yours.

"With you, I felt human. You looked at me as if I wasn’t afraid to break. As if... as if I was enough, just as I am."

Those words struck Sunghoon more deeply than he had expected. He approached you by running a hand through your hair and then gently stroking your cheek.

'Y/n, you’re anything but fragile. You’re strong, stubborn and... honestly, you drive me crazy. But that’s what I like about you."

Blush, but do not look away, captured by the sincerity in his voice.

'It’s not now that I like you. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at you, thinking how different you are from anyone else. And... I’m glad you’re mine now. That we are... us.'

Those last words made your heart overflow and you came closer to him, clinging to his chest as you felt a heat enveloping you completely.

"I’m happy too, Hoonie. And... I promise I won’t stop driving you crazy." 'No doubt, Noona. But know that I will never back down. You are mine, and I’m not going to let you go.' he said with a smile.

Comments and rebblog are appreciated:)

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[thatfeelinwhenyou]

My dearest Yve,

I actually teared up reading this—no joke. The fact that you took the time to write such an in-depth analysis and appreciation for the little details means the world to me. It genuinely overwhelmed me (in the best way possible). So, in return, I’m going to take my time to respond to each and every one of your comments. But first, I owe you an apology for taking so long to reply... ms girl had a little detour to A&E over the weekend LMFAO (I’m fine now!).

You raised such a great point about how loud MC was when she threw the can. I actually debated whether I should keep that in, but ultimately, I left it because I felt it reflected the impulsive nature of humans. At that moment, she was starving and had risked her life to find food only to discover that it was rotten. I wanted to capture that raw frustration. The fact that this was the very first paragraph and you already caught onto such a small detail blows my mind.

YES! In every zombie film or show I’ve seen, the biggest threat is almost never the zombies. And that’s the irony, isn’t it? Because zombies were humans once. It really highlights how, dead or undead, human beings are always the ultimate apex predators.

Thank you for appreciating the comparative parallel in the nightmare line EHEHEHE

When I was planning her character, the only thing I knew for certain was that she needed to be independent. By extension, that meant making her a complete badass who doesn’t rely on others to survive. I think this also stems from her past experiences with survival groups and after being on her own for so long, she’s developed an instinct to act rather than wait for problems to resolve themselves. She’s practical and hardened by her reality, but at the core of it all, she’s still human, with fragile emotions beneath the surface.

OMG, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for noticing that none of the boys stepped in to help her! Having them swoop in to save her would have completely undermined her character. She survived almost a year alone in a zombie apocalypse—she’s not about to need a man to rescue her from one zombie. Also, “In your bed” is crazy, by the way!

THANK YOU AGAIN for noticing the fact that both the reader and MC don’t immediately know who’s speaking? That was so difficult to write during the motel sequence, but I’m so glad it paid off. And Ni-ki being that obvious? LMAO.

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you actually take notes while reading. You are truly one of a kind, and honestly, every writer deserves a reader like you.

Even though you told me not to answer, I'm going to do it anyway. Yes, you are a freak for enjoying the scenes where she's running for her life. BUT, I am also a freak for writing them. So really, we’re just in this together.

I knew Jay was the perfect fit for the cautious character because, in my mind, he’s someone who is wise and learns from experience. I actually debated between him and Sunghoon for this role but ultimately went with Jay. Also, JAYWON.

You are so valid for saying you would’ve up and left too. Honestly, same. The only reason MC didn’t was because she didn’t want to be like the people from her last group. As pragmatic as she is, she hates being proven wrong.

So, we’re both SE Asian, Libras, AND Jungwon-biased? Shayla, tell me this isn’t fate.

AGREED ABOUT THAT TRAIN TO BUSAN CHARACTER. Had me pulling out my hair watching. The selfish, stubborn characters always survive too long for my liking. And it makes sense because If you put yourself first, you stand a better chance of making it out alive.

To clear up any confusion about how the zombies in this AU function, they rely on whatever senses are still available to them. I assume you were referring to the line “empty eye sockets seem to bore into you.” In that case, the zombie had no eyes and was relying on sound cues. Later on, I used “milky eyes” to describe those that do still have their vision. Basically, they react to whatever they can—sound, the smell of blood, movement—if something grabs their attention, they go for it!

That’s it. That’s the message. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

XOXO, Nat <3

SAFE & SOUND — part 1

Navigating one year post-apocalypse, when the dead began to walk and the living proved to be no better, you decide that trust is a luxury you can no longer afford. But after a run-in with a group of seven peculiar survivors, you learn that there are bigger problems than just the undead roaming the streets. You also start to wonder if there’s more to survival than simply staying alive.

word count: 14k

MASTERLIST

Rotten.

The can of tuna you’ve risked your life to retrieve from the mart in the next neighbourhood is rotten. Just like everything else roaming the streets.

The smell hits you first, sharp and metallic, curling through the air like a mocking laugh. It’s only when you peer into the greyish sludge that you know for sure. Gagging, you launch the can across the dimly lit room. The clang as it hits the wall feels louder than it should, echoing against the hollow silence. A greasy smear marks its path before it rolls to a stop.

Your stomach tightens, but not from hunger—not entirely. It’s exhaustion, or frustration, or both, a familiar cocktail of feelings that churns in your gut. You press a hand to your stomach, willing it to stay quiet. The small victories matter now, even if they’re as simple as keeping quiet.

“Figures,” you mutter, wiping your hands on the knees of your tattered jeans. The word feels heavy in the thick silence of the abandoned community building you’ve been calling home—a makeshift fortress that’s only just kept you alive for the past year.

The windows are boarded up with planks you scavenged from nearby wreckage, letting in only the faintest cracks of moonlight, casting fractured shadows on the walls. The small corner where you sleep is enclosed by a barricade of furniture you've managed to tie together with ropes and scraps of cloth you’ve gathered. It’s not perfect, but it’s held so far.

Outside, the telltale groans of the undead float through the night air, mingling with the distant sound of screams and breaking glass. You’ve learned to tune it out, to pretend that the world hasn’t fallen apart.

But every so often, when the noises grow too close or too many, the illusion shatters, leaving behind a pit of fear in your stomach that no amount of fortification can fill.

You lean back, letting your head hit the wall. The cracks in the paint catch against the rough weave of your jacket, the sound gritty and small. Your mind drifts back to that fateful day, the day everything went to shit.

You’d only been living in Seoul for a month, you were barely unpacked, just starting to memorise the labyrinth of subway lines, the shortcuts to your university. University acceptance had felt like the first step towards something bigger, something brighter. You can still see your parents’ faces, lit with pride, when you shared the news. Getting into a university in Seoul—it’s like gaining instant bragging rights for life.

Except now, none of it matters. Those things out there couldn’t care less about your alma mater, whether you’re earning a six-figure salary or pulled from the gutter. To them, you’re just another meal on legs—flesh, blood, and bone all blending into the same, mindless craving.

You’d always thought you’d know what to do in a zombie apocalypse. Every movie and survival guide said the same thing:

Avoid the cities. Get out fast.

So when the news started to break, you didn’t hesitate. You grabbed a bag—essentials only—and set out, determined to make it back to your parents in the province. You didn’t even pause to think about how impossible it might be.

But the city had other plans. You hadn’t even made it ten blocks before the streets were overrun. A tide of chaos, of screams and shoving bodies—alive and not—forced you off course.

The community building was a last-ditch refuge, its doors flung open to anyone desperate enough to run for them. You’d barely made it inside before the barricades went up. It wasn’t the plan, but then again, nothing about survival ever is.

At first, it felt like a haven. There were enough supplies to keep everyone fed—if barely. Dozens of survivors shared the space, most of them too old or too scared to leave. The rations were thin, one meal a day if you were lucky, but it was enough.

You and a handful of the younger survivors took turns venturing out, gathering what you could from nearby shops and houses. It wasn’t much, but it worked.

For a time.

When the convenience store was stripped bare, you moved to the supermarket. When that was picked clean, you ventured further. Each trip took you deeper into danger, the risk growing with every step. Supplies dwindled. The fear grew sharper, harder to ignore.

People started to die—some to the undead, others to hunger, and still others to the kind of cruelty that only surfaces when survival is on the line.

You learned quickly that it wasn’t just the zombies you had to fear. You’ve seen it firsthand: the way desperation changes people.

At first, it was small things—arguments over ration sizes, whispers of distrust. But then the small petty arguments turned into fights, and fights turned into bloodshed.

One by one, people either left to take their chances elsewhere or fell victim to the chaos within. A high school student, he had barely turned eighteen, stabbed a man over a tin of peaches. A woman abandoned her own mother to save herself when the barricade was breached.

Survival strips away more than flesh—it strips away the pretence of civility, leaving only the raw, animalistic instinct to endure at any cost. It’s not just the undead that keep you awake at night—it’s the memory of what people are capable of becoming.

So when the barricade failed during a particularly viscous storm and you’d barely escaped with your life, you dragged what little you could salvage to this corner of the building, patching up the holes as best as possible. Alone, because it was safer that way.

Now, alone in the faint light of your makeshift fortress, the weight of it all presses down on you. The loneliness, the hunger, the constant, gnawing terror—it’s all too much. But you shove it aside, because there’s no room for weakness here.

Weakness gets you killed.

Your stomach growls again, insistent, and you grit your teeth. You’ll have to go out again soon. The thought sends a chill through you, but there’s no other choice. Survival doesn’t wait for fear to subside.

Taking a deep breath, you stand and reach for your weapon—a rusted crowbar that’s seen more use than you’d like to admit. Tomorrow, you’ll go out again, search for food, risk what’s left of your life to keep it from ending.

For now, you sit in the dark and listen. To the groans. To the screams. To the sound of your own ragged breathing. And try not to dream.

A loud thunk from below jolts you awake, not that you were fully unconscious in the first place. Your entire body goes rigid as you strain to listen. Another thunk. Then a scrape, like something heavy being dragged across the ground floor. Your mind races—it could be the wind, or maybe another scavenger. Or it could be them.

Your grip on the crowbar tightens as you slowly push yourself off the floor. You tiptoe toward the staircase leading down to the lobby. The wooden stairs creak under your weight as you inch down them, and you wince at each sound. They might as well be gunshots in the stillness.

Sweat beads on your forehead as you reach the landing and peer into the dark hallway beyond. Shadows shift and flicker in the faint moonlight filtering through cracks in the boarded-up windows.

The dragging sound comes again, closer this time, and your grip tightens until the ridged metal of the crowbar bites into your skin. Then, a growl echoes from the darkness. Low. Guttural. Not human.

You back up instinctively, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. Your foot catches on a loose piece of debris, and you stumble, barely catching yourself on the railing. The noise you make is small but loud enough to stir the growling into a frenzy. The shuffling grows faster, more erratic.

They’re coming.

“Shit,” you hiss under your breath, scrambling back up the stairs. You’ve rehearsed this scenario a hundred times in your head. Go to the second floor. Block the stairwell. Wait it out. It’s worked before, but something tells you this time is different. There’s too much noise, too many of them. And you’re already running low on supplies.

By the time you reach the top of the stairs, the first figure emerges into the faint light below. Its flesh hangs from its bones in sickly, yellowed strips. Empty eye sockets seem to bore into you as it lets out a chilling moan. Behind it, more shadows lurch into view, a grotesque parade of decay and hunger.

You’re out of time.

Slamming the door to the stairwell shut, you shove a heavy desk against it and wedge the crowbar beneath the handle for good measure. The door shudders almost immediately under the weight of their assault, the moans and growls growing louder with each passing second. You back away, your mind racing for an escape route.

Your eyes dart to the boarded-up windows. It’s a long drop, but there’s a fire escape just a few feet out of reach. If you can break through the boards and make the jump, you might stand a chance. It’s a gamble, but so is staying here

And if you’re being honest, you’d rather plunge to your death than be torn apart limb by limb.

Grabbing a chair, you smash it against the nearest window. The wood splinters and cracks, but it holds firm. Behind you, the door creaks ominously as the barricade begins to give way. Desperation fuels your next swing, and the boards finally snap, leaving a jagged hole just big enough to climb through.

You don’t think—you just act, hauling yourself up and out onto the narrow ledge outside. The cold night air hits your face, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside. Below, the fire escape beckons. You take a deep breath, brace yourself, and leap.

For a moment, you’re weightless. Then your hands slam into the metal railing, and you scramble to pull yourself up. Your palms sting, and your muscles scream in protest, but you don’t let go. Not when survival is so close.

Behind you, the door finally gives way. The sound of splintering wood and the enraged cries of the undead spur you into action. You don’t look back as you climb down the fire escape, each step taking you further from the nightmare above, and closer to the nightmare below.

When your feet finally hit the ground, you allow yourself a moment to breathe. But it’s short-lived. The streets are no safer than the building you just escaped. Shadows move in the distance, and the faint echo of shuffling feet reminds you that you’re never truly alone.

With nothing but the clothes on your back, you start to run. You don’t know where you’re going—only that you can’t stop. Your legs burn, your lungs ache, but you keep moving, fuelled by a singular, desperate thought: keep going. Always keep going. Because if you stop, even for a moment, it’ll all be over.

The groans follow you, relentless and hungry. You don’t dare look back. Instead, you focus on the narrow alleyways and shadowed streets ahead, praying you don’t make a wrong turn.

You finally spot a building—an auto store with its doors hanging slightly ajar. Without thinking, you rush inside, slamming the door shut behind you. Your hands fumble for something—anything—to block it, and you grab a rusted toolbox, wedging it against the frame. It feels pathetic, barely a barrier, but you convince yourself it’s better than nothing.

Your breaths come fast and shallow as you scan the room. Rows of dusty shelves cluttered with tools and car parts stretch before you, their contents untouched for what feels like decades. The air is stale and heavy, carrying the faint tang of motor oil. For a fleeting moment, the oppressive noise of the streets is muffled, and you almost feel safe.

But the reprieve is short-lived.

Voices. Human voices. Low, urgent, and drawing closer.

Your stomach twists as panic sets in, sharp and paralysing. You reach for a loose screwdriver on the floor and dart behind a shelf, crouching low. Dust clings to your clothes as you press yourself against the cold metal, willing yourself to disappear.

The door creaks open, and the toolbox scrapes uselessly across the floor. You curse silently under your breath. What a waste of effort.

Boots scuff against the ground as they enter. Voices—male voices—filter through the stale air, rough and laced with tension. “That was close, fuck.” one mutters, his voice shaking. You can hear him catching his breath, the fear in his tone unmistakable.

Looks like you weren’t the only one running from the horde that came out of nowhere.

“What the hell is The Future doing in the city?” another snaps, frustration cutting through the hushed atmosphere.

The Future...?

"They're looking for us, what else?" a third man grunts, his voice deep and gravelly.

"Talk about obsessive,” a fourth says, anger simmering beneath. “We escaped more than six months ago. How are they still trying to track us down?"

“That community… they’re worse than the dead. I’d rather take my chances out here than go back there.” Five.

“You don’t get it. They’ll hunt us down. They always do,” Six.

"I mean… We stole almost six months’ worth of supplies. And a van. I'd hunt us too." This one is a little cheeky. Seven.

"Shut the fuck up,” the gravelly voice growls. “You think this is funny?”

Your mind races. A community hunting them? You’ve heard of survivors forming groups. Hell, you were part of one. But this… this sounds different. Darker.

You press yourself closer to the shelf, your gip on the screwdriver so tight your fingers cramp. Seven men, at least—that’s how many voices you can count. Could you take them? Absolutely not.

For now, the only option is to stay hidden. You force yourself to breathe slowly, silently, and focus on their words, desperate for answers. Whatever these men are running from, you need to know if it’s worse than what’s already out there—or if it’s heading straight for you.

Just then, a faint groan slices through the oppressive silence, this one agonisingly close. Your head snaps around, heart thundering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

Right there, not more than a foot away and obscured beneath a grimy sheet of cardboard, something stirs. The groan rises in pitch, raw and guttural, as the cardboard shifts, revealing a face ravaged by decay. Skin, or what’s left of it, clings to its skull in uneven patches, and its milky, dead eyes lock onto yours with an almost sentient hunger.

You freeze, the breath hitching in your chest as time seems to slow. The stench of rot floods your senses, almost choking you, and a cold sweat slicks your skin.

Before you can react, the creature lurches, its skeletal hand shooting out with horrifying speed. Filthy, jagged nails scrape against your leg, finding purchase in the fabric of your jeans and digging into the flesh beneath.

A piercing shriek tears from your throat—raw, primal, and louder than you intend. The sound ricochets off the walls, each echo feeding the panic clawing at your mind.

Desperation surges like a tidal wave, drowning out coherent thought. You kick wildly, your boot connecting with the thing’s chest, but its grip is unyielding. The screwdriver slips in your sweat-slicked palm as you fumble to raise it, your muscles trembling with adrenaline-fuelled terror. Its grip tightens, nails biting deeper, and for a moment, the sickening thought flashes through your mind: You’re not getting out of this.

But then instinct takes over. With a desperate cry, you swing the screwdriver down, the metal driving into its skull in a sickening crunch. the sound reverberating through the stillness like a death knell.

The zombie spasms, its hand loosening slightly, but not enough.

Your vision narrows, fury and survival instinct blending into a single, overpowering force. You strike again, and again, each impact a visceral symphony of shattering bone and yielding flesh. The stench grows worse, cloying and metallic, as blood splatters your hands and face.

Finally, the creature goes still, collapsing into a lifeless heap at your feet. Your chest heaves as you stagger back, the screwdriver slipping from your trembling fingers to clatter against the floor. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the rasp of your own ragged breaths.

"Fuck," you whisper, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Your gaze drifts down to the bloodied mess staining the floor, bile rising in your throat. You swallow hard, forcing it down. There’s no time for weakness—not now, not ever.

When you finally look up, your stomach twists into knots. Seven figures stand over you, their faces obscured by shadow but their postures unmistakably tense.

One of them steps closer, the metallic glint of a pistol catching the dim light. Your breath hitches as the cold barrel presses against your temple, its unforgiving weight a reminder of how precarious your situation has just become.

"Who the hell are you?" One of them growls, his voice low and dangerous. The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken threats, as you stare back at him, your mind scrambling for a response that might just keep you alive.

You swallow hard, your mouth dry as sandpaper. “Just… just a survivor,” you stammer, your voice barely a whisper. The cold barrel against your temple makes your skin crawl, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. Your heart pounds so loudly, you’re sure they can all hear it. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’ll leave. Please.”

"Drop the act," another voice cuts in, this one sharp and impatient. "The speaker steps closer, his silhouette lean and wiry, eyes narrowed. “You think we’re stupid? You’ve been listening in.”

“What should we do with her?” someone else pipes up from the shadows. His tone is casual, but the words make your stomach drop. “She could be one of them.”

“I’m not!” you blurt, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I swear, I don’t even know who you’re talking about! I just ran in here to hide!”

The gunman doesn’t lower his weapon, his piercing gaze locked onto yours. The air is thick, suffocating, as he scans your face, searching for any hint of deceit. The silence stretches unbearably until someone else breaks it.

“There’s seven of us, and she’s a girl.” one points out, this one almost amused. His tone is light, but his eyes glint with curiosity. “Not exactly the kind The Future kept around. Didn’t they kill most of their women? Called them weak or some shit.”

"Doesn’t mean she’s not a threat," the gunman mutters, but the tension in his stance eases slightly. The barrel wavers, though it remains trained on you. "Start talking. What are you doing here?"

You take a shuddering breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. "I was running from a horde," you say, jerking your head vaguely toward the door. Your voice is steadier now, but your trembling hands betray your fear.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” he asks, his tone laced with suspicion. “How many of you are there?”

“There’s no group,” you reply quickly, shaking your head. “It’s just me. I’ve been on my own for months.”

"On your own?" A man near the back crosses his arms, his posture sceptical. "That’s a load of bullshit. Nobody lasts this long alone." His blonde hair gleams faintly in the dim light, a beacon that would make him laughably easy to track in broad daylight. You wonder how someone so conspicuous has managed to survive this long, especially when they’re clearly being hunted.

"I’m telling the truth," you insist, your voice firm despite the quiver in your hands. “I’ve got nothing to hide. My place got overrun. I just needed somewhere to hide.”

“What place?” the blonde man carefully makes his way in front, crouching slightly, levelling his gaze with yours. The question hangs heavy, and you know your answer could mean the difference between life and death.

“A community building,” you answer, your voice quieter now. “It’s just down the street. I can show you if you don’t believe me.”

“Show us?” Another man scoffs. “You said it was overrun? Why the hell would we follow you to a place that’s crawling with them? Are you stupid?”

You bite back a retort, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. “I’m not lying,” you say, your voice sharper than before. “Look, I didn’t survive this long just to let a bunch of men decide whether to shoot me in my fucking head for being in the wrong place at the wrong bloody time.”

The man with the blonde hair tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he can’t quite solve. Then he speaks again, his tone quiet but firm. “Can we trust you?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you hold his gaze, unflinching, and nod once. Slowly, deliberately. For a moment, no one speaks. You can feel the weight of their stares, assessing, calculating.

Finally, a simple, subtle raise of the blonde’s hand is all it takes for the gunman to lower his pistol. The others, though still wary, seem to follow his lead. Relief washes over you, but you keep your face neutral, refusing to show weakness.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Jungwon.”

His name is Jungwon. It strikes you as a strangely gentle name—garden—yet nothing about him feels soft.

"If you’re lying," Jungwon warns, his tone like steel, "you won’t get a second chance." It doesn’t take long for you to realise—he’s the leader.

“I understand,” you reply, your throat tight. The words feel hollow, but they’re all you can offer.

"What’s your name?" one of them asks, his voice brighter but no less wary.

"Y/N," you reply. "And you?"

He hesitates before giving you a small, guarded smile. “Sunoo. And don’t get any funny ideas. We’re a small group, but we bite.”

The faint attempt at levity doesn’t go unnoticed, but it does little to ease the knot in your stomach. You nod again, glancing at the others. Their eyes still linger on you, like predators sizing up prey.

“You said there’s a horde,” Jungwon says, cutting through the moment. His tone is all business now. “Where’s it coming from?”

“South,” you say, your voice steady but curious. “Wait, weren’t you lot running from it too?” Your eyebrow arches as you ask, testing the waters.

“Don’t ask too many questions, or I might just kill you,” the same man who held the pistol to your head snaps, his tone as sharp as the glare he fixes on you. Tough one, you think grimly. Definitely not the friendly type.

“How big is it—the horde?” he demands, his words clipped and impatient. His posture is rigid, his eyes narrowing as though he’s daring you to lie.

“Big enough,” you answer grimly, your voice heavy with the weight of what’s chasing you. The memory of the mass of undead flashes in your mind—their grotesque forms, the relentless moans. You push it aside, forcing yourself to focus. “They’re close. If we stay here much longer, they’ll find us.”

Jungwon doesn’t hesitate. “Then we move,” he declares, his voice calm but firm, leaving no room for debate. It’s a tone you’ve heard before in those who’ve seen too much, those who lead because no one else will. “Grab your things. We leave in five.”

You swallow hard, scanning their faces. They’re already moving, collecting bags and makeshift weapons, their movements practised and efficient. You take a breath, forcing your hands to stop shaking.

“There’s a motel north-east from here, just off the horde’s course.” you say, stepping forward slightly, trying to sound confident. “I cleared it out once when I couldn’t get back to the community building. I can take you there, wait for the horde to pass, and then I’ll be on my way.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you feel the tension in the room shift. The air grows heavier, colder.

Jungwon’s sharp gaze locks onto yours, his expression unreadable, but it’s not him who speaks. The man with the sharp tongue—the one who held a pistol to your head earlier—lets out a humourless laugh. “Who said anything about letting you go?” he says, his voice dripping with malice, as though your suggestion was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

The silence that follows his words feels suffocating, heavier than the looming threat of the undead outside. You try to keep your expression neutral, but the knot in your stomach tightens with each passing second. Your eyes flick to Jungwon, hoping for some sort of reprieve, but his face remains impassive, impossible to read.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” you say carefully, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. “I’ve survived this long on my own. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want to be in your way.”

The gunman scoffs, the corner of his mouth curling in disdain. “Bold words for someone who had a gun to their head five minutes ago.”

“Enough,” Jungwon cuts in, his voice slicing through the tension like a knife. The others fall silent, though their postures remain taut, their eyes still fixed on you. He steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, as if gauging your reaction with every step.

“We don’t know you,” he says, his voice measured but carrying an edge of steel. “You could be useful, or you could be a liability. Either way, we’re not taking risks.”

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to stand your ground. “I’ve already told you—I’m not with anyone. No group, no weapons, no agenda. Just me. If you think I’m lying, you’re wasting your time.”

He watches you for a moment longer, his dark eyes scanning your face for cracks in your resolve. Finally, he speaks. “You’ll come with us,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll see what you’re worth.”

Your stomach twists, the flicker of hope you’d allowed yourself extinguished in an instant. Your jaw clenches, but you nod. There’s no point in arguing—not when they hold all the cards.

“What if she’s dead weight?” the pistol-wielding man mutters, his arms crossed as he glares at you.

“Then she’ll stay behind,” Jungwon replies coldly, his eyes still locked on yours. The words send a shiver down your spine, but you refuse to flinch.

The group moves quickly, their actions smooth and practised as they gather their supplies. You take a moment to glance at their makeshift arsenal—rusted blades, a machete, a pistol with a half-empty box of ammo. It’s not much, but it’s enough to survive. Barely.

Jungwon’s voice cuts through the room again. “Time’s up. Let’s go.”

The group falls into formation, their movements synchronised, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. You find yourself in the middle, flanked on all sides, nothing to defend yourself with. Even the mere rusty screwdriver taken away from you.

Their message is clear: you’re not one of them. They don’t trust you.

As you step out into the night, the cool air hits your face, a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat of the room. The streets are eerily quiet, the faint groans of the undead carried on the wind. Your heart pounds in your chest as you scan the shadows, every instinct screaming at you to run. But there’s nowhere to go—not empty-handed, and certainly not without them gunning you down before you even make five feet.

Jungwon takes the lead, his blonde hair catching the faint glow of the moon as he moves with purpose. You follow closely, your senses on high alert. Every shuffle of movement, every distant sound sets your nerves on edge.

Sunoo sidles up next to you, his steps light and almost casual, though the wariness in his eyes lingers. “Don’t let Jay get to you,” he says in a low voice, his lips curving into a faint smile. “That grump always tries to come off scarier than he is. He’s actually a bit of a softie.”

Jay. The name sticks in your mind, sharp and blunt at the same time, just like the man it belongs to. You glance over at him—his posture rigid, eyes scanning the shadows like a hawk. There’s nothing soft about him now, not the way he grips the pistol or the sharp edge to his jaw as he walks a few paces ahead.

“A softie?” you murmur back, your voice sceptical. “He doesn’t look the type.”

Sunoo chuckles quietly, his expression lightening. “Oh, he’s a pain in the ass, no doubt about that. But trust me, when it comes down to it, Jay always looks after the group. Even if he’s a bit dramatic about it.”

You don’t know whether to take that as reassurance or a warning.

“Does he look after the strays too?” you ask, your tone laced with cautious humour.

Sunoo raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a playful smile. “That depends,” he says, his tone light yet probing. “Are you planning to stay a stray?”

You don’t reply, and the silence stretches just long enough for it to become uncomfortable. Sunoo seems to take the hint, letting the question hang unanswered. His smile fades slightly, but he doesn’t press further.

Instead, he shifts gears, his voice dropping low enough to avoid drawing the attention of the others. “So, this motel of yours,” he begins, tilting his head. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” you reply, keeping your voice steady, though the scepticism in his tone pricks at you. “It’s just a place I found. Empty, at least the last time I checked.”

“And if it’s not?” he presses, his brow furrowing as his sharp eyes flick to your face. There’s no malice there, just careful calculation, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re bluffing.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” you say firmly. “Like I’ve dealt with everything else.”

He studies you for a moment longer before nodding, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. “Fair enough.”

You nod back, though your attention is already shifting, your gaze flicking from Sunoo to Jungwon, before landing on Jay. He hasn’t so much as glanced in your direction since leaving the shop, but you can feel the weight of his presence, like a storm cloud hanging overhead. Softie or not, there’s no denying he’s dangerous.

This whole group is dangerous. Not just in the way they pointed a gun at your head. You’d have done the same if the roles were reversed.

No, it’s something deeper than that. It’s in the way they move together, a silent understanding passing between them. It’s in the way they trust each other without needing to speak. That trust feels foreign to you.

Distrust is second nature now, woven into every fibre of your being. It has kept you alive, but here, it feels like a barrier, separating you from the unspoken bond that holds them together. They don’t trust you, and you can’t blame them. You’re the outsider, the unknown element, and trust is a commodity none of you can afford to give freely—not for you, and certainly not for them.

The group moves swiftly through the shadowed streets, their footsteps light but purposeful. You walk in the middle of their formation, acutely aware of how exposed you all are. Every darkened alley, every overturned car feels like a trap waiting to spring.

Suddenly, Jungwon raises a hand, his entire body going still. The shift is immediate—the group halts in unison, their movements instinctive, like a well-oiled machine. Your breath catches, your heart pounding like a drum as you strain your ears. At first, there’s nothing but the faint rustling of the wind. Then you hear it—shuffling, faint but unmistakable, just ahead.

“Eyes up,” Jay mutters, his voice barely above a whisper as he tightens his grip on the pistol.

The group edges closer to the corner of a crumbling building, each step measured and deliberate. Jungwon moves first, peering around the edge with slow precision. His posture stiffens, and when he pulls back, his expression is grim.

“A group of them, about thirty, maybe more.” You feel a chill run down your spine.

“South?” Jay hisses, his sharp glare cutting through the dim light as he looks over his shoulder at you. “You said they were coming from the south.”

“They are,” you snap back defensively, lowering your voice but unable to hide the edge in your tone. “How was I supposed to know they’re crawling here too?”

Jay lets out a low, humourless laugh, his head shaking lightly. “This is exactly why we didn’t believe you when you said you survived the city all alone.”

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the rising tension. “Now’s not the time for this,” someone says—the voice calm but clipped, firm enough to settle the brewing argument. You glance towards the speaker, realising you still haven’t put a name to his face. “Why are there so many of them tonight?”

You shake your head, the unease in your chest growing heavier. “Tonight is… different,” you admit, your voice wavering slightly. “There seem to be more of them roaming the streets. It’s like something’s drawn them here.”

“Yeah, like a scream of some sort.” The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Slowly, one by one, the group turns their heads toward you.

Your stomach drops, and you open your mouth to protest, but the conversation is cut short by a sudden, guttural growl. One of the zombies has noticed you. Its milky, lifeless eyes locking onto the group as it lets out a low, haunting moan.

“Shit,” Jungwon mutters under his breath, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade.

The moan spreads like a signal, the rest of the horde turning their decayed heads in unison. Their shuffling quickens, their jerky movements laced with unnatural determination.

“Here they come,” Jay snaps, his voice sharp as he raises his pistol.

“Sunghoon, they’re coming from the back too!” Sunoo’s voice rises in alarm, his gaze darting to the rear of the group. You whip your head around, your blood running cold as more figures stumble into view behind you.

“We can’t fight them all,” Sunghoon says, panic bleeding into his usually calm tone.

For a moment, everything feels suspended—the groans of the undead growing louder, the sharp intakes of breath from the group, the suffocating realisation that escape is narrowing with every passing second. Then, with a voice like tempered steel, Jungwon breaks the paralysis.

“Move!” he commands, his voice slicing through the chaos.

The group breaks into a run, weaving through the narrow streets and abandoned cars. The sound of shuffling feet and guttural growls follows close behind, a relentless reminder of what’s chasing you.

Your lungs burn, and your legs ache, but you keep moving, driven by pure adrenaline. As you round a corner, the motel comes into view—a squat, two-storey building with boarded-up windows. Relief surges through you, but it’s fleeting. The dead are still on your heels.

“There!” you shout, pointing toward the motel. “We can barricade ourselves inside!”

Jungwon nods, taking the lead as the group sprints toward the building. Jay fires a few shots over his shoulder, each one finding its mark, but it only slows the horde momentarily.

“Go, go, go!” Sunoo yells, holding the door open as the group piles inside.

The moment you’re inside, you move instinctively, grabbing a nearby desk and shoving it against the door with Sunghoon’s help. The others pile on whatever they can find—chairs, shelves, anything to hold the door shut. The pounding starts almost immediately, a grim reminder of how little time you have.

“We can’t stay here,” says someone whose name you haven’t learned, his voice trembling as he steps back, his wide eyes darting between the barricade and the rest of the group. “They’ll break through eventually.”

Jungwon turns to you, his dark, calculating eyes pinning you in place. “You said you cleared this place before,” he says, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Is there another way out?”

“There’s a back exit,” you say, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “But it’s narrow. If they cut us off—”

“We don’t have a choice,” Jungwon interrupts. “We’ll make it work.”

The pounding intensifies, the barricade creaking under the strain. The group exchanges tense glances, their exhaustion mirrored in each other’s faces. Your palms are slick with sweat as you clench your fists, the urge to act warring with the mounting dread in your gut.

“Let’s go,” Jungwon says sharply, gesturing for the group to fall into formation. He starts toward the back, his movements quick and precise, but you grab the edge of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

“Give me a weapon to defend myself with,” you say, your voice low but firm.

“No,” he replies instantly, not even breaking his stride.

Your grip tightens, forcing him to pause. “Jungwon,” you say, your tone urgent but measured, “I can see you care a lot about your group. I also know that when push comes to shove, I won’t be your priority. If you can’t guarantee my safety, then I need something to defend myself with.”

He hesitates, his brow furrowing deeply. The pounding against the barricade grows louder, each crash like a warning bell, and you can feel the impatience bubbling beneath your skin.

“Please,” you press, your voice softening but losing none of its intensity.

For a moment, he stares at you, the tension in his jaw betraying his internal debate. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he reaches into his belt and pulls out a small, serrated knife. “Fine,” he says, his tone clipped, handing it to you. “But you stay close to me. No exceptions.”

Relief floods through you as you take the weapon, the cool metal solid and reassuring in your hand. ��Understood,” you say, nodding quickly.

“Move!” Jungwon orders, his voice cutting through the noise. The group springs into action, heading toward the narrow corridor that leads to the back exit. Your heart pounds as you grip the knife tightly, your eyes darting to the barricade one last time.

The group moves quickly, the narrow corridor pressing in on all sides. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet feels deafening, every shadow a potential ambush. Jungwon leads the way, his blade gleaming faintly in the dim light as he keeps his focus locked on the path ahead.

“Stay close,” he mutters, glancing back at you for a fraction of a second before returning his attention forward.

The pounding on the barricade grows faint behind you, but a new sound takes its place—the unmistakable shuffle and groans of the undead echoing off the walls. The noise comes from ahead and behind, a cruel symphony that makes your stomach churn.

You’re surrounded.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you don’t even know who is speaking, all you can tell is—he’s panicking.

The group halts, frozen as the reality of your situation sinks in. Jay takes a sharp breath, glancing over his shoulder. “They’ve cut us off,” he says grimly. “We’re trapped.”

“Keep moving,” Jungwon orders, though his voice is taut with tension. “We fight through. There’s no other choice.”

As if on cue, a wave of zombies emerges from the shadows ahead. Their decayed faces twist into grotesque mockeries of hunger, their milky eyes locking onto the group. The moans grow louder, their jerky movements speeding up as they close the distance.

Raising his pistol, Jay fires a clean shot, dropping the lead zombie, but the rest surge forward undeterred.

You tighten your grip on the knife Jungwon gave you, your palms sweaty. The first zombie lunges, and Jungwon meets it head-on, his blade diving into its skull with practiced precision. Another takes its place immediately, forcing him back.

“Behind you!” you yell, spotting movement in the shadows. A zombie stumbles toward Jungwon, its bony hands reaching for him.

Without thinking, you surge forward, driving your knife into its temple before it can lay a hand on him. The impact sends a jolt through your arm, but the creature collapses instantly, its lifeless body hitting the ground at Jungwon’s feet.

He spins around, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing in acknowledgment. “Thanks,” he mutters, before plunging his blade into another.

You barely have time to catch your breath before you spot it—a narrow opening in the wall ahead, barely visible in the chaos. It’s just large enough to squeeze through, and beyond it, you can see an open street.

Your heart pounds as the thought crystallises in your mind: freedom. You could run. You could escape. You could leave all of this behind and save yourself.

The idea is tempting. The promise of survival so close you can almost taste it. But as quickly as it takes root, something stronger rises to smother it. Something within you that won’t allow you to abandon them. These people—dangerous and distrustful as they are—are fighting to survive, just like you.

Your gaze flickers back to the group. Jungwon, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision, glances back to check on Jay before taking on another zombie. Jay’s pistol rings out, his shots deliberate and controlled, his sharp eyes scanning for threats to the others. Sunghoon swings a crowbar with brute force, stepping in to shield Sunoo when he falters.

They’re… looking out for each other…?

You hesitate, the knife in your hand growing heavier with every passing second. It’s not just survival fueling them—it’s something more. Something you haven’t seen in a long time.

After everything—the chaos, the selfishness, the betrayal—you didn’t think there was any humanity left in people. Not after what went down at the community building.

You’ve seen what desperation does to people, how it strips them bare, leaving nothing but fear and greed in its wake. You can still see the faces of the ones who abandoned their own blood. The ones who took more than their share, who fought over scraps while others starved, who left others behind to die just to save themselves.

And yet, here you are, watching this ragtag group fight not just for themselves, but for each other.

There’s something different about the way they move. It’s primal, yes, but not animalistic. They swing their weapons with purpose, shouting warnings to each other, putting themselves in danger to keep one another alive—not because they have to, but because they choose to.

They’re holding on to something—civility, camaraderie, maybe hope. Or maybe it’s the uncanny refusal to let go of what makes them human, even when the world around them is anything but. It makes your chest ache, this flicker of humanity you thought was long dead.

You aren’t sure why—not entirely. Maybe it’s the look of determination on their faces. Maybe it’s that fleeting look of surprise in Jungwon’s eyes when you saved him that stays with you. The unspoken gratitude, the trust he gave you in return. Maybe it’s the fire in your chest that refuses to let you be like the others, the ones who ran when things got hard. To hold on to what little humanity you have left. Or maybe it’s something simpler: you just don’t want to survive alone anymore.

Your gaze shifts back to the horde. More are flooding into the corridor from both sides, their moans growing louder. The group is outnumbered, overwhelmed. If you leave now, they won’t make it.

Your grip on the knife tightens as the choice solidifies in your mind. The opening in the wall calls to you, but you can’t move toward it. Not when they’re still fighting. Not when leaving would mean becoming one of them.

You take a step forward instead, slashing at the nearest zombie before it can reach Jay. The creature collapses, and Jay’s head snaps toward you, confusion flickering across his face. He doesn’t say anything, just nods once, almost imperceptibly, before firing at the next target.

The path forward is a blur of movement and noise. You don’t think, don’t question. You just fight.

“Over there!” you shout, pointing to the opening. “There’s a way out!”

Jungwon’s head snaps up at your words, his dark eyes meeting yours. Something flickers across his face—something unreadable, a mix of surprise and something else you can’t quite place. He nods sharply, his voice steady even as chaos erupts around him. “Stay with me,” he orders. “We’ll make it out together.”

The group presses forward, fighting with renewed determination. You stand your ground, slashing at anything that comes too close, your heart pounding as adrenaline fuels every movement. The horde presses in, relentless, but inch by inch, you force your way toward the opening. For reasons you can’t fully explain, you stay close to them.

Jungwon moves ahead, his blade a blur as he carves through the oncoming zombies. You’re at the rear now, turning back occasionally to strike at anything that gets too close.

A zombie lunges from the side, its grotesque face inches from you before you drive your knife into its eye socket. The creature crumples, but the force of it pulls you off balance, and you stumble, landing hard on one knee.

“Get up!” Jay barks, his voice sharp but charged with urgency. He fires a shot over your shoulder, the bullet whizzing past to take down another zombie that had been closing in on you.

You scramble to your feet, gripping your knife with renewed determination. The narrow opening is only a few feet away now, and the others are already pushing through. Sunoo slips through first, then Sunghoon, the two of them pulling at debris on the other side to clear the way for the rest of you.

“Move, move!” Jungwon shouts, his voice cutting through the cacophony. He’s still holding the line, his blade flashing in the dim light as he keeps the horde at bay.

You shove Jay forward toward the opening, your pulse racing. “Go!”

With a grim nod, Jay ducks through the opening, leaving you and Jungwon alone with the horde. The zombies are almost upon you now, their grotesque moans filling the narrow space. Jungwon glances at you, his face slick with sweat and streaked with blood.

“You first,” he says, his tone brooking no argument.

“Not a chance,” you shoot back, slashing at a zombie that gets too close. The blade slices through its rotted neck, sending its head lolling to the side as its body collapses. “They need you. I’ll be right behind.”

For a moment, he stares at you, something flickering in his dark eyes—frustration, maybe, or something closer to understanding. Then he nods once, a sharp, decisive motion, and the two of you fall into a rhythm. His blade swings high while your knife strikes low, each movement synchronised as if you’ve been fighting together for years.

The opening is right there, but the horde is closing in fast. A zombie lunges at Jungwon from his blind spot, and before you can think, you shove him aside, your knife plunging into the creature’s chest. The impact sends both you and the zombie crashing to the ground, the stench of rot filling your nose as you wrestle against its weight.

“Y/N!” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and commanding. He pulls the zombie off you in one fluid motion, driving his blade into its skull. “Get up, now!”

He hauls you to your feet, his grip firm but not unkind, and together you bolt for the opening. The others are waiting on the other side, their faces pale and drawn but alive. Sunghoon reaches out, grabbing your arm to pull you through just as the horde slams into the debris you’d hastily piled to block the passage.

The group collapses onto the open street, panting and bloodied but alive. The sound of the horde pounding against the barricade is deafening, but it holds—at least for now.

“Everyone okay?” Jungwon asks, his voice steadier than it has any right to be. His eyes scan the group, lingering on you for a fraction of a second longer than the others.

“Barely,” Sunoo mutters, leaning heavily on Sunghoon. “That was too close.”

Jay stands a few feet away, reloading his pistol with practised efficiency. He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “You could’ve run,” he says flatly, though there’s something in his tone that isn’t quite accusatory.

You meet his gaze, your grip tightening on the bloodied knife in your hand. “So could you.”

Jay snorts, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Fair enough.”

Jungwon steps forward, his blade still clutched tightly in his hand. “We need to keep moving,” he says, his tone brisk but quieter now. “The noise will draw more of them.”

You nod, your heart still racing as you fall into step with the group. The streets ahead stretch out in shadowed uncertainty, but for the first time, you feel a flicker of something you haven’t felt in a long time. In the presence of people—people who aren’t trying to eat or kill you.

When the group reaches the edge of Seoul, where cracked asphalt gives way to gravel and the looming forest stretches into the horizon, everyone stops. The air is thick with tension, the only sounds the distant rustle of leaves and the crunch of boots on dirt. The group exchanges wary glances, but it’s Jay who breaks the silence.

“Surely she’s not coming with us back to camp,” he says bluntly, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife. His pistol hangs loose in his hand, though his sharp gaze flicks to you with suspicion. Then, he turns to Jungwon. “We still don’t know anything about her.”

“She helped us escape,” one of them counters, his voice steady but calm. He’s tall, with an easy confidence, though his tone carries just enough weight to make Jay glance at him. “That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?”

Jay doesn’t look convinced. “It doesn’t mean she’s not a liability, Heeseung.” he counters, his voice clipped. “We’ve all seen how that ends.”

“I’m standing right here, you know,” you say, your tone flat but laced with frustration. You’re too tired to hide the edge in your voice. “If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have stuck around to help.”

“Helping doesn’t mean you’re trustworthy,” Jay shoots back, narrowing his eyes. “Plenty of people are helpful—until they aren’t. Jake, why don’t you remind Jungwon what happened the last time we trusted someone?”

Jake—leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed—glances at Jay before speaking. His voice is lighter, more measured, but no less pointed. “She was armed,” he says, nodding toward the knife still clutched in your hand. “If she wanted to hurt us, she’d have done it by now.”

“She practically did,” Jay fires back, his glare intensifying. “With the way she brought that horde down on us.”

You stiffen, your exhaustion bubbling over into anger. “If you think my pathetic little scream brought in a horde that big, then you must be denser than I thought." you bite out, your tone dripping with incredulity,

Jay takes a step closer, his expression darkening. “Then why don’t you care to explain why there were so many of them tonight? You said so yourself—it’s different. Something’s drawn them here.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, each word sharp and biting. Your chest tightens, frustration mingling with the lingering fear from earlier. “How the hell would I know?” you snap, your voice rising slightly before you force it down. “You think I have all the answers? I’ve been on my own for months. I don’t know what’s out there any more than you do.”

“Exactly,” Jay counters, his voice cold. “You’ve been on your own. No one to vouch for you. No one to trust you. Why should we be the ones to take that risk?”

You open your mouth to argue, but Jungwon raises a hand, silencing the brewing argument. “Enough,” he says, his voice calm but commanding.

“You said you’ve been on your own." Jungwon turns to you, his dark eyes meeting yours, unblinking.

You nod slowly, meeting his gaze with as much calm as you can muster. “That’s right.”

“Then why didn’t you run?” Jungwon asks, his voice softer now, though no less searching. “You could’ve left when you saw that opening.”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and weighted with meaning. For a moment, you hesitate, your chest tightening. The truth feels raw, vulnerable, but you know it’s the only chance you have. “Because I’ve seen what happens when people leave others behind,” you say quietly, your voice steady but laced with emotion. “I… was left behind. It’s not who I want to be.”

The group falls into an uneasy silence. Even Jay says nothing, though his expression remains guarded. Sunoo glances between you and Jungwon, his face unreadable. Heeseung exhales slowly, lowering his machete just slightly, his knuckles no longer white from gripping the handle.

“She doesn’t seem like a threat to me,” Sunoo finally says, his tone softer now. “Besides, what’s one more person? It’s not like we’re overflowing with allies.”

“She could slow us down,” Jay argues, though his earlier venom seems to have dulled. “What if she can’t keep up?”

“I kept up with you just fine back there,” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop.

“And she saved Jungwon. Knife to the skull. Pretty impressive, actually.” says the cheeky one you remember from the auto shop. His tone is casual, but it carries just enough humour to make Jungwon roll his eyes.

“Very funny, Ni-ki,” Jungwon says, exhaling through his nose. His expression remains unreadable as his gaze sweeps over the group.

He’s quiet for a moment, clearly weighing the risks, before finally speaking. “She comes with us, we'll figure the rest out at camp." he states firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jay mutters something under his breath, but he doesn’t protest further. Sunoo gives you a quick smile, while Heeseung offers a small nod. Ni-ki shrugs, already turning back toward the forest path.

The journey to the camp is long and fraught with silence. The group moves with practised precision, their formation tight as they navigate the dark, twisting paths that grow denser with every step. You trail close behind, clutching your knife tightly. The blood and sweat drying on your skin makes you feel grimy, but the real discomfort comes from the sharp looks Jay still throws your way whenever he glances back.

Eventually, the dense trees give way to a clearing, revealing the camp nestled among towering pines. A cluster of tents, a single battered van, and a manmade lean-to are scattered around the space, surrounded by a crude barricade of fallen logs and scavenged metal.

“Home sweet home,” Sunoo mutters, his voice tinged with fatigue as he pulls the barricade open just wide enough for the group to slip through. The camp is eerily quiet, save for the distant rustling of the forest.

You glance around, scanning the area for signs of other people, but it becomes clear that the group before you is all there is.

Weird. They don’t have much, but leaving an entire camp unattended like that is reckless, bordering on suicidal. It’s the kind of decision that makes you question their judgment.

Now you’re even more confused about your perception of these people. Are they confident? Brave? Or are they simply stupid?

It’s hard to tell.

But whatever the reason, it leaves you uneasy. Because in a world like this, confidence and bravery can look an awful lot like arrogance—and arrogance gets people killed.

“Who’s on first watch tonight?” Jungwon asks, his tone brisk and businesslike as his eyes sweep the camp.

“Jake and Ni-ki,” Heeseung replies, dropping his machete with a heavy sigh.

“Erm... both of them are already passed out over there.” Sunghoon’s voice is dry, almost amused, as he points toward the lean-to.

Your gaze follows his finger, and sure enough, you spot two figures sprawled out on the uneven ground, tangled in what looks like a half-hearted attempt at bedding. One of them is snoring softly, an arm flung carelessly over his face, while the other lies curled into himself, his back rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. They’ve managed to find the least uncomfortable positions possible in a place like this, but it’s clear they’re out cold.

Jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture that speaks to his weariness more than any words could. “Brilliant,” he mutters under his breath, the exasperation in his tone cutting through the quiet. He looks like a man who carries the weight of everyone around him, even when he doesn’t want to.

The group shifts awkwardly, the tension thick enough to press against your chest. Your fingers twitch around the handle of your knife, an unconscious reflex as you weigh your options. You don’t owe these people anything. And yet, when the words leave your mouth, they surprise even you.

“I can take first watch, and one of you can cover me after.” Your voice is steady, but the exhaustion leaks through at the edges. You don’t offer because you feel like you owe them. No, the truth is simpler: you know you won’t sleep. Even with your body screaming for rest, every muscle and bone aching from the day’s events, your mind is wide awake. Very, very awake.

Jay scoffs immediately, the sound sharp and derisive. “Like hell we would leave you on watch alone, what if you run?”

The comment makes your blood simmer, but you clamp down on the flare of frustration. Instead, you meet his glare with a level stare. “Jay, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you,” you say, your tone firm but not aggressive. “If you don’t trust me, then you can take first watch with me.”

The challenge in your voice is unmistakable, and it hangs in the air between you like a taut string. Jay’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze hardening as though he’s deciding whether to call your bluff. You hold his stare, refusing to back down, even as the silence stretches.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears, but you keep your expression steady, determined not to show weakness. You don’t know if they’ll ever trust you, but you’ve survived too long to let someone like Jay intimidate you now.

Jungwon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose again, as though trying to contain the growing tension in the camp. Finally, he lowers his hand and looks at Jay, his expression firm but calm. “I’ll take the first watch with her,” he says, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Jay’s mouth opens, likely to argue, but Jungwon cuts him off with a sharp look. “Get some rest. We’ll need everyone at least awake tomorrow.”

Jay clicks his tongue but doesn’t push further. Instead, he mutters something under his breath and stalks off toward the fire, dropping onto a log with a pointed lack of grace. The others disperse as well, settling into their makeshift bedding or sitting quietly by the fire. Jungwon turns to you.

“Come on,” he says, motioning toward a ladder tied to the side of what looks like a precariously constructed watchtower. “The view’s better up there.”

You follow him, gripping the ladder tightly as you climb. The watchtower, built from scavenged wood and tied together with ropes and wire, creaks slightly under your combined weight but holds firm. When you reach the top, you find a narrow platform with a rough wooden railing. From this vantage point, the camp feels small, a fragile sanctuary surrounded by endless darkness.

Jungwon settles near the edge, resting his blade across his lap as he scans the treeline. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes are sharp, constantly moving as though anticipating the worst.

You sit a few feet away, your knife still in hand, though you’re not entirely sure what good it will do against the night. For a while, neither of you speaks, the silence broken only by the distant rustling of leaves and the faint crackle of the fire below.

“Do you always volunteer for shit the rest doesn’t want to do?” you ask, breaking the quiet.

Jungwon glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not always. But someone has to do it. Might as well be me.”

You nod, your gaze drifting to the dark forest beyond the barricade. “You don’t trust me either,” you say, your voice quiet but not accusatory. It’s a statement, not a question.

He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the horizon. When he does speak, his tone is measured. “It’s not about trust. Not entirely. It’s about knowing what people are capable of when things go bad.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Yeah. I’ve seen what people are capable of.”

Jungwon glances at you again, his expression softening just slightly. “What… happened?” he asks, his voice low, as though he knows it’s a loaded question but is willing to bear the weight of it.

You hesitate, the memories clawing at the edges of your mind, threatening to drag you back into a place you’d give anything to forget. Frankly, you don’t want to answer. You don’t even want to think about it. But the past has a cruel way of lingering, forcing you to confront it over and over again, like an open wound that refuses to heal.

“The community building,” you begin slowly, the words bitter on your tongue. “It was supposed to be safe. A place where people worked together. Where we helped each other survive.”

“At least, that’s what we told ourselves. But things changed when the supplies started running low. Suddenly, it wasn’t about helping each other anymore. It was about who could take the most, who could get out alive.” You pause, your fingers tightening around the knife in your hand as the images flood your mind. The arguments over food, the mistrust that spread like rot, the way desperation revealed the ugliest parts of human nature.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words spill out, raw and jagged. “I watched people turn on each other. Families. Friends. People who’d shared meals, shared stories, who’d promised to have each other’s backs. They fought over scraps. They left others behind without a second thought. And when the barricade fell… when the dead came through…” Your voice wavers, and you clench your jaw to steady it. “They didn’t just leave the weak behind. They trampled them. Used them as bait. Anything to save themselves.”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but his gaze remains fixed on you, his expression unreadable. You can’t tell if he’s judging you, pitying you, or just listening. Maybe it’s all three.

“I’d like to think the ones who made it out remember that place the way I do,” you say finally, your voice quieter now. “But I don’t think they do. I think they tell themselves it wasn’t their fault. That they had no choice. Maybe they’re right. But I had to see it, and I have to live with it.”

Jungwon watches you carefully, his expression unreadable but not unkind. After a moment, he asks, his voice low and steady, “Is that why you choose to survive alone?”

The question cuts through the quiet night, striking a nerve you hadn’t realised was exposed. You hesitate, your gaze falling to the dark ground below. “Maybe,” you admit softly. “It’s easier, I guess. No one to rely on. No one to disappoint you. No one to leave you behind.”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything immediately, but his silence feels deliberate, as though he’s giving you space to continue. You exhale slowly, the memories pressing against your chest like a weight you can’t shrug off.

“When you’re on your own, the only person you have to worry about is yourself,” you say, your voice hardening slightly. “If you make a mistake, you pay for it. If you survive, it’s because you earned it. There’s no one else to blame, and no one else to lose.”

Jungwon’s gaze doesn’t waver, and there’s a gravity in his eyes that makes you feel exposed. “But it’s also lonely,” he says quietly, as though he’s not asking but stating a fact.

You swallow hard, the truth of his words settling uncomfortably in your chest. You don’t answer, but the silence between you speaks volumes. Jungwon shifts slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he speaks. “Not everyone would’ve made it out of that and kept going,” he says quietly. “Most people would’ve given up. You didn’t.”

You blink, his words catching you off guard. They’re not exactly comforting, but there’s a sincerity in them that makes your chest tighten, like a wound you’d forgotten you were nursing.

“I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of,” you admit, your gaze fixed on the dark forest beyond the camp.

“It is,” Jungwon says firmly, and there’s an edge of conviction in his tone that makes you glance at him. “It means you didn’t let it break you. And that’s harder than most people realise—keeping yourself from going insane. Stopping yourself from letting this fucked-up excuse of a world swallow you whole. You didn’t give in, and that counts for something.”

You study him for a moment, his face lit faintly by the moonlight, his blonde hair swaying lightly in the night breeze. His expression is calm but resolute, as though he’s been through his own version of hell and come out with his soul intact.

You’re not sure how to respond, so you don’t. Instead, you let his words sit with you, their weight lighter than the memories they’ve momentarily displaced.

“You’re not as rough around the edges as Jay seems to think,” he says after a while, his tone lighter now. “But you’re not like the others either. You’ve got... fight in you.”

You glance at him, arching an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He smirks. “Take it however you want.”

“But that’s not what we do here,” he continues. “If someone falls behind, we don’t leave them.”

You turn to him, searching his face for any hint of deception, any sign that this is just a comforting lie. But his expression is earnest, his eyes unwavering.

You’ve been on your own for almost six months. You don’t even remember the last time you had a conversation this long with anyone. Words, when they did come, were usually short, functional—commands barked at yourself to keep moving, or fleeting exchanges shouted during desperate encounters.

This, sitting and talking, feels foreign. Unnatural.

It’s not that you haven’t come across other survivors. You’ve met people. Survivors who had extended a hand, offered you a place in their groups. Some seemed kind, others desperate. But you rejected them all. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford, and joining a group means opening yourself to betrayal, to risk. You’ve seen what people are capable of when the stakes are life and death. Better to keep moving on your own than rely on someone who could turn on you at any moment.

Still, sitting here with Jungwon, his calm voice cutting through the quiet night, you find yourself oddly enjoying it.

“Must be exhausting, caring about people.” you say, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

Jungwon chuckles softly, the sound low and almost foreign in the stillness of the night. “It is,” he admits, his gaze flicking briefly to the camp below. The firelight dances across the faces of the others, who are finally beginning to settle down for the night. “But it’s worth it. At least, I like to think it is.”

You watch him for a moment, the corners of your mouth quirking slightly upward. “Did you know each other? Before?”

“Yup,” he says, leaning back against the rough railing of the makeshift watchtower. The faint moonlight softens the hard edges of his face as he speaks, his tone lighter now, touched with nostalgia. “Childhood friends. I’d just started university, and they wanted to come check out the campus. It was supposed to be a quick visit.”

He pauses, his gaze drifting toward the dark expanse of trees surrounding the camp. “We just so happened to be together when everything went to shit.”

The simplicity of his words doesn’t mask the weight they carry. You imagine the scene—an ordinary day, plans for the future barely set in motion, torn apart by chaos. You wonder if he thinks about how different things might’ve been if the timing had been just slightly off. If he’d been alone, or if they hadn’t been there together.

“Lucky, I guess,” you say quietly, though the word feels wrong in your mouth. Luck doesn’t feel like it belongs in this world anymore, not when it comes with such brutal cost.

“Yeah,” Jungwon replies, his voice softer now, almost like he’s agreeing and disagreeing at the same time. “Lucky.”

“What happened?” you ask cautiously, sensing the weight of his memories but curious nonetheless.

He exhales slowly, the breath heavy with remembrance. “We started out as a big group—most of the faculty ended up holed up in the auditorium. We thought we’d escape the initial chaos for the time. But someone got bit early on and hid it from the rest of us. They turned in the middle of the night. It took out half of us before we even knew what was happening.”

You swallow hard, the familiar pang of loss and horror creeping into your chest. “And the rest of you?”

“The seven of us, plus a few others, managed to get out alive,” he says, his voice tinged with a faint bitterness. “We thought our luck had turned when we ran into a group of people in military uniforms. They had tanks, rifles, the works. We thought we were safe.”

“That was The Future, wasn’t it?” you ask, recalling the name you’d overheard the others mention earlier.

Jungwon’s gaze sharpens, his expression darkening. “Do you really not know anything about The Future?”

You shake your head slowly, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. “No. I’ve been on my own for months. I’ve seen groups, but nothing that sounds like what you’re describing.”

Jungwon leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice lowers, taking on a colder edge. “They’re not a group. They’re an organisation. Big. Made up of military personnels who went rogue when they realised the government couldn’t control the outbreak, and high profile politicians started to abandon the people to save themselves.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably, the weight of his words sinking in. The idea of a well-organised, militarised group with no one to answer to makes your skin crawl. “And you escaped from them?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He nods, his jaw tightening. “Barely.”

“If they’re so strong,” you press cautiously, “why did you leave?”

Jungwon’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze dropping briefly to the dark ground below before lifting to meet yours again. “Their way of surviving… it’s messed up,” he says, his tone grim. “It isn’t about helping anyone—it’s about control. They take what they want. Supplies, people, anything they think they can use. If they decide you’re deadweight, just another mouth to feed, they won’t hesitate to…” He trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavy between you.

Your throat feels tight. “Is that why Jake said they’d gotten rid off all their women?” you ask tentatively, the memory of Jake’s earlier comment sharp in your mind.

Jungwon’s expression darkens further. “Not all,” he corrects, though the words do little to ease the growing unease in your chest. “Just those who, to them, served no purpose. And not just women. Children. The elderly. Anyone with a disability, or even someone who was sick—whether it was visible or not. If you couldn’t pull your weight or be useful to their ‘mission,’ you were as good as dead.”

Your stomach churns, bile rising in your throat. “That’s not survival,” you say quietly, your voice shaking slightly. “That’s—”

“Evil?” Jungwon finishes for you, his tone bitter. “Yeah. It is. They hide it under words like ‘efficiency’ and ‘necessity,’ but it’s just cruelty. That’s why we left.”

You can see the weight of the memories in his eyes, the lingering shadows of everything he’s seen and done to survive. For a moment, the silence between you feels suffocating, the distant rustle of the forest doing little to break the tension.

“How many of you escaped?” you ask, though you’re not sure you want to know the answer.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re all that’s left.” he says simply, his voice carrying the weight of names and faces you’ll likely never know.

He leans back against the watchtower railing, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of the past has settled there. “We’ve been running ever since. Trying to stay ahead of them. Trying to survive without becoming like them.”

The knot in your stomach tightens further. The apocalypse had already stripped the world of so much—life, hope, humanity—and now it seemed to have given rise to something even worse.

You glance down at the camp below, at the group who had been wary of you, who still didn’t fully trust you. Yet despite everything, they’d chosen to leave a place like that behind, to hold onto something resembling morality.

“Must’ve taken a lot,” you say quietly. “To leave. To fight back.”

“It did,” Jungwon replies, his voice steady but tired. “But if surviving means losing everything that makes us human, then what’s the point?”

His words linger in the cool night air, settling deep into your bones. For the first time, you realise that you and the group aren’t so different after all. Just ordinary people, barely on the cusp of adulthood, thrust into a world that demands you play the role of protectors. Not because you’re ready, but because the ones who should have been there to protect you failed. Now, all you have is each other, forced to fill the gaps left behind by the people who should have kept you safe.

"But why are they still trying to hunt you down?" you ask, the question slipping out before you can think twice. It lingers in the air between you, heavy with curiosity and unease.

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his gaze shifting to the dark treeline beyond the camp. For a moment, it seems like he might not answer. Then, with a quiet sigh, he leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Because we didn’t just leave,” he says, his voice low and edged with something darker—regret, perhaps, or anger. “We took supplies. Food, medicine, weapons. Enough to give us a fighting chance out here. To them, that’s unforgivable. They don’t see people. They see assets. Resources they think they own.”

You feel a chill crawl down your spine as you process his words. “You think they’re after the supplies you took?”

“It’s not just about the supplies,” Jungwon replies, his tone grim. “It’s about control. We embarrassed them. Made them look weak. To The Future, that’s worse than losing anything physical. If they let us go, it sets a precedent. It shows people that they’re not invincible, and then what is to stop others from doing the same?”

Your stomach churns. “So they’re chasing you to make an example of you.”

“Exactly,” he says, his voice colder now. “They want everyone to know what happens when you cross them. And they won’t stop until they get what they want.”

The weight of his words settles heavily in your chest, the reality of their situation sinking in. It’s not just survival they’re fighting for—it’s freedom from a force that refuses to let them go. You glance back at Jungwon, his expression calm but laced with something harder, something forged by experience.

“How long have you been running?” you ask softly.

Jungwon exhales, the sound low and tired. “Almost six months,” he admits, his gaze fixed on the treeline.

There’s a pause before he continues, quieter this time, as though saying it aloud makes it more real. “Although… we think we might have lost them. For now. But we’re always ready to keep moving. Always looking over our shoulders.”

“Every time we think we’re safe enough to settle down, they find us,” he murmurs. “Like an obsessive ex-girlfriend, you know?”

The analogy catches you off guard, and you chuckle despite the seriousness of the conversation. It’s a strained laugh, but genuine—a brief flicker of something human in the midst of everything bleak. “The kind that won’t take a hint?”

Jungwon huffs a small laugh of his own, though there’s no real humour behind it. “Exactly.” He glances at you, a shadow of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Except this one’s got a lot more firepower.”

That explains it. Why they were so willing to leave the camp unattended, why they carried more supplies on their backs than they could possibly need. It wasn’t out of carelessness or greed—it was strategy. They packed light enough to keep moving, but just heavy enough to make sure they wouldn’t have to stop.

Everything they did was calculated, preparing for the worst. Ready to run at a moment’s notice if the situation demanded it.

Ready to disappear without a trace.

The fire below flickers, its faint glow casting long shadows across his face. For a moment, you see the weariness behind his sharp exterior, the cracks in the armour he’s built to protect himself and the people he cares about.

“You said tonight was different—you said there were a lot more of them than usual. Why did you think that way?” Jungwon asks, his tone low and measured, though his eyes flicker with unease.

You hesitate, chewing on your thoughts. The question pulls at loose threads in your mind, unravelling memories of the streets you’ve come to know too well. Images flash behind your eyes—the empty alleys, the shifting shadows, the silence that stretches too long before it breaks. You’ve always trusted your gut, and tonight, it screamed louder than ever.

Something is wrong.

“The city is… unpredictable,” you reply carefully, the words slow as you try to make sense of the thoughts swirling in your head. “Some days, the streets are empty. You might see the occasional horde passing through. They linger for a bit before something else catches their attention—a noise, a movement, anything that draws them away.”

“But hordes… they’re creatures of habit,” Jungwon listens intently as you continue, his brow furrowed, tension tightening his posture. “The noise they make keeps them together, pulling in the surrounding stragglers to join their little marching band. It’s a cycle. And that’s what makes them manageable. You can figure out their patterns, track the way they move, and avoid them if you’re careful.”

“But tonight, though…” You pause, the words lingering on your tongue like a bad taste you can’t quite spit out. “It wasn’t just one or two. It felt like they were coming from everywhere. Every direction.”

Jungwon’s gaze flickers to meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. His expression hardens, the flicker of dread in his eyes matching your own.

“Like someone put them there.”

The words hang in the air, thick and heavy. As soon as you finish, the thought sends a chill down your spine, settling deep in your chest. The silence stretches between you both, tense and oppressive, as the weight of the implication sinks in.

The idea that someone—anyone—might be capable of coordinating something so horrifying is almost impossible to comprehend. Almost.

“Do you think it was deliberate?” you ask, your voice quieter now, as if afraid to hear the answer.

Jungwon exhales slowly, his expression hardening. “Truth is, we don’t know for sure. We were in the city earlier, scouting for car parts to fix up the van. That’s when we thought we ran into members of The Future. But one thing about them—they don’t fuck with the cities. They stick to the communities near their base, taking whatever they need—supplies, weapons, fuel. They think the cities are too dangerous, too unpredictable.” His words hang in the air for a moment before he continues, his voice darker now. “But the way the hordes moved tonight... it felt like someone wanted them to sweep the area.”

The thought settles over you like a heavy fog. “But you don’t think it’s them? The Future?”

Jungwon shakes his head, though the hesitation in his expression is hard to miss. “It’s not their style. They don’t deal in chaos—they deal in control. And releasing hordes into the city? That’s reckless. Dangerous, even for them.”

“If it wasn’t them...” you start, but your voice falters.

Jungwon’s gaze sharpens as it meets yours, steady but grim.

“Then it’s someone else."

You sense that the weight of the conversation is more than you can handle for the rest of the night, and you know Jungwon senses it too. The quiet lingers between you, heavy but not unpleasant, the kind that almost invites you to leave the darkness of your thoughts behind.

“Should I go wake Jake and Ni-ki up for their shift?” you suggest, breaking the silence. You’re not sure whether the talk with Jungwon has helped ease some of your inner turmoil or if the sheer exhaustion from the day’s events is finally catching up to you, but your eyelids are growing heavier with every passing second.

Jungwon shakes his head slightly, his voice calm and even. “I’m actually just going to keep watch for the night. You can turn in if you’re tired.”

You blink at him, his words jolting you back to focus. “What?” you ask, disbelief lacing your tone. “In that case, we’ll take turns. There’s no way I’m leaving you up here alone the entire night. I can only imagine what Jay’s got to say when he wakes up tomorrow and finds out.”

Jungwon’s lips twitch, and then, to your surprise, he laughs—a genuine, unguarded laugh. The sound is startlingly warm, almost foreign in the bleakness of the night. For a moment, it feels like the world around you isn’t as broken as it really is.

“Fine,” he says, shaking his head in mild amusement. “You can rest first. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

His words carry a gentleness you hadn’t expected, and it throws you off balance more than you’d like to admit. You study his face—the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the faint trace of a smile still lingering.

You hesitate, your exhaustion pulling at you, but the lingering sense of distrust—of everything, not just him—roots you in place. “You sure?” you mumble, your voice heavy with fatigue.

“Yeah,” he says with a faint nod, his eyes scanning the dark forest beyond the camp. “I’ve got it.”

“Alright,” you finally agree, leaning back against the railing and letting yourself relax just a fraction. “But don’t forget to wake me.”

“I won’t,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reassuring.

The weight of the day presses down on you like a blanket, and despite your reluctance, you feel your body begin to give in.

Leaning back against the rough planks of the watchtower, you close your eyes, telling yourself you’re just resting them for a moment. But the distant rustling of the trees, the faint crackle of the campfire below, and the steady presence of Jungwon beside you lull you into a state of half-awareness.

At some point, you shift unconsciously, your head tilting until it finds something solid—warm. You’re too far gone to realise what’s happened, the exhaustion dragging you under.

masterlist | part 2 - warmth

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: i'm adapting a new form of writing specifically for this setting. i think i mentioned before how i struggle describing present moments over writing thoughts and monologues. lo and behold, turns out an apocalypse au is all about the present moment... i'm taking this as a challenge and honestly don't have high hopes. but i sincerely appreciate the read from all of you! things will start picking up in the next part~

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @catlicense @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt @neocockthotology @Starryhani @aishisgrey @katarinamae @mitmit01 @youcancometome @cupiddolle @classicroyalty @dearsjaeyun @ikeucakeu @sammie217 @tinycatharsis @M1kkso

taglist open. @sungbyhoon @theothernads @kyshhhhhh @jiryunn @strxwbloody @jaklvbub @rikikiynikilcykiki @jakesimfromstatefarm @rikiiisoob @doublebunv @thinkinboutbin @eunandonly @wilonevys @sugarikiz @jellymiki @adoredbyjay @rebeccaaaaaaaa @baedreamverse @bamguetismee @flwwon @l1s0ro @st4rgirl1235

[dollfacefantasy]

DARK SIDE OF THE MOON ♡

pairing: redk!clark kent x fem!reader x soulless!sam winchester

summary: your boyfriend sam has been acting strange lately. good thing your other boyfriend clark is willing to help you figure out what's going on with him. unfortunately for you, he doesn't get very far before he starts acting weird too.

cw: nsfw (18+), au, smut, mild dubcon, threesome, p in v, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, facefucking, overstimulation, praise/degradation, hints of asphyxiation kink

a/n: comm for my wife @fearcvlt. thank you to the anon who infected us with the sam-clark disease 🙏 also i know sam doesn't lose his soul till season 6 but it's my fic so this is early seasons sam. don't like it kiss me about it.

Sam has been acting weird lately.

You’re not sure what it is. You can’t pinpoint an exact detail about him that’s shifted. From the surface, he looks the same. He still dresses the same. His voice sounds the same. His hands and mouth feel the same. It drives you crazy, not being able to narrow down what you mean. What you know has changed. 

Because while the alterations are imperceptible, you know they’re real. All of that stuff hasn’t changed on a technical level, but to you, his girlfriend, someone who knows his very being like the palm of your own hand, it’s not the same.

Physically, he’s your Sam. The one you’ve been with since your second semester of college. His dark brown hair hangs too close to his eyes like always. The warmth in his hands radiates with regularity as they coast across your and Clark’s bodies. His words reach your ears in the soft, calculated manner you’ve come to expect from him.

But you swear on everything you have in this world, on both your lovers’ lives, that all of this comes with a new note of unfamiliarity.

While his appearance hasn’t changed, the way his eyes land upon your face has. His gaze feels cold. It nearly stings when it connects with your own. You may recognize his touch, but he’s rougher now. He doesn’t handle you like a cherished doll, nor does he explore Clark with his usual reverence. Instead he tugs and he grabs. His fingers dig into flesh harder than ever before. Scratches and bruises litter the two of you after a night spent together. And while his voice rings out just like it did when you met him in your first criminal justice class all those years ago, the tender embellishments in his sentences have vanished. Vacant silences lie where sweetheart and honey used to appear. 

You sound like a lunatic describing it.

“Can’t you just talk to him?” you plead with Clark for the third time this week. You attempt persuasion by flaunting your puppy eyes at him, but he just shakes his head.

He stands before the full length mirror in the corner of your bedroom while pulling on his shirt. The hazy morning light shines through the nearby window onto his physique, highlighting the contours of muscle decorating his abdomen before they’re covered up by the scarlet sweater he chooses to wear today.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, baby,” he responds, gazing at you through the reflection.

You boost yourself off your mattress where you’d been sprawled out. Approaching him from behind, you snake your arms around his waist and press your cheek to his firm back. He doesn’t have to face you to know the pout that’s taken residence on your lips.

“Well, I can’t think of everything,” you huff, “Just maybe see if something’s wrong. Like maybe we did something and we don’t know-”

“You’re overthinking,” he cuts in while fastening his belt into place.

“You don’t know that because you’ve never actually asked. Maybe he feels like he can’t tell us what’s bothering him for some reason. Or it could be like a guy thing. He blows me off whenever I try to help, so maybe he’ll be more comfortable with just you,” you insist.

He sighs and shakes his head again, reaching for the brush nearby. Clark’s hair rarely ever falls out of place. The only moments you can recall seeing him disheveled are those when he lays in bed with you and Sam, nude body coated in a light sweat and pressed against each of yours. Yet he tends to his black tresses more often than you take care of your own hair.

“It’s not a guy thing,” he chuckles, “He just doesn’t wanna talk about whatever’s going on in his head. You know how he gets sometimes. I’m sure he’ll bounce back soon.”

“But it’s been like over a month. Ever since he went on that trip with his brother, he’s been weird,” you continue, squeezing him as if that would somehow convince him of your point.

“You know his childhood is a sore spot. Maybe being around him brought up some bad memories,” he offers and shrugs.

“But he would have told us about that,” you refute.

You release Clark from your hold as he turns around, his outfit all ready for the day. As you look up at him, your eyes remain full of concern for the absent part of your trio. Your present boyfriend smirks at the worried expression before cupping your cheeks and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“It’s gonna be ok, babe. He’ll be ok,” he murmurs.

You nod. “Just if you get the chance… please talk to him,” you try once more.

“I will,” he agrees. His hands fall to your waist where they knead the flesh lightly.“Try not to worry too much today, alright? We got that party tonight. You’re gonna look all pretty, we’re gonna have fun, and everything’s gonna be fine.”

He kisses you once more before walking towards the bedroom door. You nod in response to his words and force your shoulders to relax. The mention of his work party you were all going to attend later helps a little to distract you. At the very least it gives you something else to think about for the time being.

Before he heads out, you blow him a kiss like you always do. He pretends to catch it, flashing those fangs of his in a lazy grin.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says before finally leaving your view.

Despite your assurance to Clark, you spend much of the day thinking about Sam and possible causes for his perpetually sour mood. Unfortunately, you can’t think of anything that seems like a realistic possibility.

While your anxiety wants you to blame yourself, you really don’t believe something you did is responsible. And he had gone on that trip with his brother a month ago, but they’d been going on their ‘hunting trips’ pretty regularly for the last two years. He never got like this afterwards. Even when his brother annoyed him, he’d just vent about it to the two of you before letting it go.

You try to reason that law school might be getting more stressful. All of his free time not allocated to you and Clark, or to his brother in the Impala, goes to textbooks. He spends hours poring over notes and articles and journals. Maybe that’s it. You try to convince yourself it could be. At least until he and Clark come home for the night with hopefully a more concrete answer.

As the day shifts into evening, you busy yourself with getting ready for the party tonight. It wasn’t anything too fancy. Just some gathering the paper Clark now worked at was throwing. As a new hire, he was one of the employees being celebrated, warranting your and Sam’s invitations.

It’s around six-thirty when you finally hear the front door open. Two pairs of shoes shuffle in. Good. That means Clark met him on campus or Sam drove over to Clark's job after his last class. There would be plenty of time to talk over the course of the distance between your shared house and either of those locations.

You put your earrings back down on the dresser and approach the door, straining your ears in hopes of scoping out any tense silences or relieved chatter. In the kitchen, you can hear the fridge open and then close. A sigh. You narrow your eyes. Was it a sigh of tiredness from work or frustration at the other man? The words that follow answer your question.

“She’s just worried about you,” Clark says. You bite your lip, sensing this may not be going well.

“Yeah, I know. She doesn’t do a great job of disguising that,” Sam responds.

“Then just talk to her. It’s only still a problem because you’re being cagey.”

“I’m being cagey because there’s nothing to talk about. She’s looking for something that isn’t there, insisting-”

You step through the doorway and head towards the sound of their voices. Barefoot and with the zipper on your dress only halfway pulled, you enter the room to join them. Sam finishes his sentence as both his and Clark’s eyes set on you.

“Hi,” you interrupt weakly.

The taller of the two rolls his eyes while your other boyfriend raises his brows in acknowledgement before taking another sip of his drink.

“I just… heard you both talking and thought I should come in here…” you continue. It’s only been a few seconds, but already, it’s starting to feel like you should have waited for them to come to you.

You walk a couple more paces into the space, finding yourself standing equidistant from both your lovers. Your gaze alternates between them before focusing on Sam.

“I know I’m probably worrying over nothing. And I know you said nothing is wrong,” you say, keeping your tone as neutral as you can, “You just seem different. And maybe nothing is actively wrong, but I just want you to know if something happened or like if you’re thinking about something differently that me and Clark-”

“You’ll what? What will you both do?” he asks, “I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to make up some problem that doesn’t exist so you can feel accomplished when you fix it?”

“No,” you answer right away, hurt infecting your features.

“Then what?”

“I don’t know…” you say. Your resolve wilts away with each second his harsh eyes stare at you.

“Just stop then. Stop asking me to give you a reason, stop talking about me behind my back, just stop,” he rants, “Did you ever consider you might be projecting? That maybe something is different with you that you don’t want to accept.”

“What?” you ask. Your pained expression infuses with a bout of confusion.

“Think about it. Me and Clark, we know what we’re doing everyday. I’m going to school, he’s going to work. We have our plans in place. You? What are you doing? Ever since you graduated last year, you’ve been floundering, bouncing from idea to idea. Maybe you’re the one who’s fallen off the tracks, but you can’t admit it,” he accuses.

Your eyes widen. That statement cuts you deep, through multiple layers. It is the truth in a sense, but to have it thrown in your face by someone who supposedly cares about you hurts worse than you would have anticipated.

“That’s not true,” you deny.

“Yes it is, and you know it. You wanna blame me for how you’re feeling. You’re losing control of your own life so you want to find something you can fix,” he continues.

“Sam, stop,” Clark interjects on your behalf.

You just stand there, feeling even more lost than you had earlier. He was acting different. You were sure of it. But now you also feel like he maybe has a point. What if he is acting the exact same, and you’re the one losing your grip? Clark hasn’t been as concerned as you, and maybe that’s for a reason.

“What?” Sam says, his eyes flitting towards your other boyfriend, “She’s allowed to talk about me, but I can’t defend myself?”

“You’re not defending yourself, you’re attacking her,” Clark responds before sighing. He puts his drink down and walks closer to the both of you. “Both of you just need to take a second and calm down.”

In the pause that follows, the pain Sam’s words caused doesn’t subside. The throb only emanates from deeper inside your chest. You glance up at your darker-haired boyfriend before turning to the one you could barely recognize.

“I’m not trying to make you defend yourself. I really just feel like something’s been up with you lately. But if you say there isn’t, then there isn’t, and I won’t mention it again,” you finally say.

“There isn’t,” he tells you without more than a second of consideration.

Awkward quiet settles for more than a pause now. You’re not sure if you can just act normal after that, but you don’t want to create more tension by hightailing it to the bedroom. Both of them seem to go with the former. Clark meanders his way back to the counter while Sam turns and digs through his bag for something.

You decide it might be best to follow along. Swiveling on your heel, you walk away from the kitchen and down the hall towards your shared bedroom to finish getting ready. The silence no longer feels calm; it weighs down on you, pressing hard enough to crack.

As you dust powder across your cheek bones and eyelids, you force your breaths to remain even. You swallow hard to prevent your eyes from watering. The mascara wand coats your lashes with black that will stream down your skin if you shed any tears. For a final touch, you spread some sticky gloss over your lips, watching in the mirror how they shine with the glittery substance.

When your face is painted to your liking, you pull on a pair of tights under the crimson fabric of your dress and then sit on the edge of your bed to slip on your shoes. While fumbling with the one on your left foot, you hear another person enter the room.

Your pupils dart towards the door to find Clark there with a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he starts gently, “You almost ready?”

You just nod, not really in a chatty mood.

He returns the gesture and comes closer, approaching as if you’re a wounded animal.

“You look really beautiful, baby,” he compliments.

“Thanks.”

“Here. Let me help,” he offers and crouches before you. 

He takes your leg between his large hands, rubbing up and down over the smoothness of your tights for a moment. His fingers then fall to the sleek strap causing you hassle. He pushes the little piece of material through the metal clasp. Despite the size of his digits, they move with nimble precision.

“He didn’t mean that stuff he said,” he tells you, voice quiet enough that it wouldn’t leave the bedroom.

“Then why didn’t he come in here?” you ask. Your voice quivers a little bit. You know Clark hears it from the way his big, blue eyes lift to connect with your own.

“He’s just being pissy right now. But I know he didn’t mean it, alright? Neither of us think you’re off track, but even if you were, it’s not the end of the world. You still have time to figure things out. We love you either way,” he says, patting your leg. 

Almost as an extra gesture of reassurance, he plants a soft kiss on your kneecap. It’s intended to be innocent. Something wholesome to let you feel the pure love he’s trying to pour into you with his words. But you can’t help but feel a flicker of desire in your belly. The sight of it only serves to remind you of how he does that when he’s spreading your legs apart and kissing up your inner thighs to somewhere much more intimate.

“He’ll come around. For the record, he is acting different. It’s not just you,” he reassures, reaching up to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

The look in your eyes has softened from one of hurt to something more tender. You nod in response, and he smiles.

“That’s my girl. Don’t look so sad anymore. I wanna show off how beautiful you are tonight. Can’t do that if you don’t let anyone see that pretty smile,” he praises.

Your face lifts with the expression he describes. It only increases the curve of his own lips. He rewards you with a small peck. When he pulls away, you can see a splotch of lip gloss on his cupid’s bow. It’s tempting to try and wipe it away with another kiss, but instead you take the more effective route and swipe your thumb across the skin.

“Ready?” he asks and reaches for your hand as he rises to his feet again.

You clasp your smaller fingers around his and stand up. “Almost. Zip me up?” you say and turn to show him the semi-closed fabric.

He chuckles fingers finding the zipper and adjusting it for you with ease. “Always.”

You stand with your back pressed against the wall, drink in hand, eyes surveilling the room. It’s only around nine o’clock, but you’re more than ready to go home. You keep a smile on your face for Clark’s sake, not wanting to look miserable around the people he has to see on a daily basis.

The party isn’t even horrible. It’s just fine. The ritzy hotel dining room they rented out is fine. The music playing at a reasonable volume in the background is fine. The food is fine. The drinks are fine. The smalltalk is fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. It’s all fine.

Including you. You’re fine too. Not at all upset about earlier. The car ride here had been dead silent. No apology from Sam. Not even a word of acknowledgement. But that’s ok! You could deal with it.

Once the three of you had arrived and made your way inside, you introduced yourselves like you always did, clear enough to convey that you were all a package deal but vague enough to not draw the ire of less open-minded people. From there, you let Clark tell some stories about the both of you. You made sure to laugh at all his jokes, smile at him with the most adoring eyes, and sing his praises to any person who wanted to hear them.

After a while of that, he turned you both loose. You first grabbed some appetizers and a drink and then landed where you are now. Sam had trailed close behind you even though he still wasn’t saying anything.

He’s beside you against the wall. His shoulder leans against it, his body angled towards yours. You can feel his eyes drifting along your figure, but you don’t give in to the temptation of a response.

“You gonna freeze me out all night?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Do you plan on apologizing at all?” you ask, passive aggression lacing in every word.

He exhales a laugh and reaches for your face. His fingers guide your head, forcing you to look at him.

“Is that what you need, baby?” he mocks, “You need me to say sorry?”

You scowl and try to look away, but his digits dig into your skin. He keeps you right where he wants you. Leaning in close to you, his breath fans across your neck.

“Would it really make you feel better if I said I didn’t mean it? Would it really change anything about how you feel? I don’t think so,” he murmurs, “I think you’d like it more if I kissed it better.”

The low tone of voice combined with his proximity fires up that warmth in your tummy you felt earlier. You try to suppress it and maintain your glare.

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, craning your neck for some space.

“What? I thought you’d wanna make up,” he says.

“I- It’s not that. We’re at a party for Clark’s work. It’s not like we’re high schoolers who can just go find some closet to make out,” you huff, “Plus, you definitely are acting different now. You’re always the explainer, and Clark is always the one who wants to kiss things better.”

That brings a small smirk to his face. “We can’t? Or we shouldn’t?” he teases. He moves in again, the tip of his nose brushing your cheek. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have been a little different lately. But why is that a bad thing? I feel great.”

“Yeah, but it’s not great when you’re being mean all the time now…”

“Mean? Or direct?” he asks, “I’ve never said anything to hurt you. Even when you think I’m being mean, I’m only speaking without sugar coating because I know you can take it. And I know that sometimes you need to hear it. You’re strong. Just as smart as me and Clark. You just need a little push sometimes.”

Your heart beats quicker in your chest. His words are one thing, but the way his rich eyes peer into yours are another. His thumb drags back and forth across your bottom lip now, almost as if coaxing some form of a response.

“It’s still mean even if you don’t intend it that way. It still hurts,” you say. Even if your face can’t move, your eyes fall. “I miss the you who wasn’t so sharp all the time.”

You soften your words, hoping to break the tough exterior that had shielded him for the last month. Though you see no change in his expression. No shift in his gaze.

“You’ll have to learn to love this one just as much then,” he replies.

It stings. The words slice like a blade. He doesn’t care about the falter on your face though. He ducks in, kissing along your jaw to your earlobe. A small gasp leaves you at the soft, wet touches. You squirm in place, nearly spilling your drink as the liquid sloshes within the confines of the glass.

“I can show you how. Just gotta let me,” he whispers. His hand falls from your face to your neck, wrapping it in a seductive embrace.

Your eyes flutter, and for a split second, you want to give in. His lips on your skin feel like traces of heaven. The soft words he speaks hit your ears like gentle caresses lulling you into compliance. But then you remember where you are and who you're here for.

“Sam, stop,” you whimper.

But he doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t just stay in place either. His hand tightens around your throat. It digs in a little, pressing you against the wall. You can still breathe just fine, but the threat of air loss is right there, teasing you just barely.

Your eyes widen now. Sam had never been so aggressive in the bedroom before, let alone in public.

“We’re here for Clark. You’re gonna embarrass him,” you remind.

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” he breathes.

Before you can squeak out any more words of protest, a large hand is curling over Sam’s shoulder and tugging him back. Clark looks at him with a raised brow before his focus shifts to you.

“I guess you two made up?” he asks.

You open your mouth to clarify with some version of what actually happened, but Sam cuts you off. “Something like that.”

He takes you by the wrist, spinning so that he’s against the wall while you’re in front of him with your back against his chest. His chin rests atop your head as his hands rub your arms. Clark looks on, almost suspicious at the complete flip in attitudes.

“So how much longer do we have to be here? They’ve already played ‘Mr. Brightside’ like three times. This thing’s gotta be winding down soon, and I’m pretty eager to get back so we can make up some more,” Sam says.

“Not too much longer,” Clark says, the words slow and edged with uncertainty, “I’ll start saying goodbyes.”

You nod gratefully, your appreciation shining through even without words. Sam smirk prevails on his face yet again.

“Sounds good. Just don’t take too long or we might have to get a head start without you,” he says. His tone indicates he’s teasing, but with how he’s acting, you wouldn’t put it past him to try something like that.

“I won’t. Just give me a few,” Clark responds simply before drifting back into the crowd to say bye to the important people.

He keeps his word and only takes a few minutes. If he had taken any longer, you aren’t confident you would have noticed. You feel like you have whiplash from the way Sam has latched himself onto your body. Earlier he spoke like he couldn’t stand you, but now he clings to you like he’d be willing to bend you over one of the nearby folding tables and bring some real excitement to this party.

You try brushing him off, redirecting his hands to places that wouldn’t earn you side eyes from your boyfriend’s colleagues. He’s not interested though. Every few seconds it feels like he’s nuzzling into your neck or smoothing his hands over your sides.

“Sam, quit it,” you whisper.

“Why? I don’t need Clark’s hearing to know how fast your heart is going. I know you like it,” he purrs.

The best you can hope for is guiding him to the exit and letting Clark meet you there. When the man in question finally does make his way in your direction, you can see a bit of frustration on his face. Annoyance gleams from his eyes as they sweep over how Sam holds you like a territorial dog with a chew toy.

You want to apologize. You hate when Clark isn’t happy with you, and you really don’t want to end the day having fought with both of them. But before you could get any words of remorse out, Sam’s already leading you through the front door. He keeps a tight grip on your wrist, now allowing you even an inch to pull away.

Clark follows along. His hand lands on the small of your back. The faint touch grounds you a little, but before it can have any real effect, Sam’s yanking you closer, nearly causing you to stumble over the steps that lead you three into the parking lot.

The confusion that permeates your mind has now spread to Clark’s face and replaces his prior irritation.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, trailing behind in broad strides.

“What do you mean?” Sam laughs. He turns around, holding you close again once in range of the car. “You got the keys?”

Even though he does in fact have them, Clark makes no move to fetch the small metal keys from his pocket.

“No, seriously. What’s going on with you? One minute you’re ready to bite her head off for worrying about you, and now you wanna jump her bones in the middle of a parking garage?” he says, not letting up.

“I can’t win with you two. She doesn’t like it when I’m being serious, you don’t like it when I’m not. What’s a guy supposed to do, huh?” he says.

“It’s not like that, and you know it,” Clark challenges, “You have been acting weird lately. I let you deny it because I know what it’s like having to keep something to yourself. But pretending like it isn’t happening does nothing, especially when it’s affecting us.”

You stand there with Sam’s arm over your shoulders, looking back and forth between them. It’s not even an argument yet, but with a few wrong words, it would have no issue transforming into one.

“Please. You didn’t care how it affected me and her when you kept your secrets for years. So spare me a lecture,” Sam dismisses, “I don’t have some great secret. People just change over time.”

“Not so rapidly!” Clark fires back, “You went away for one weekend, and a different person came back.”

“I’m still me,” he says, “If you have such a problem with the person you think I’m becoming then maybe I’m not the only one we should be evaluating. Maybe something’s changing between all of us.”

You look at Clark with pure worry now. He hasn’t outright said it, but these words border on the worst potential outcome. Reaching for his hand that dangles off your shoulder, you give it a squeeze and gaze up at him.

His attention shifts to you. He smiles at the nervousness written all over your features.

“Don’t look so scared, baby. We’re not gonna break up. Unless that’s what you two think would be best,” he says. It’s almost a threat. He puts the power in your hands, but it’s not by choice. He’s not offering it to you. He’s forcing it between your palms and pushing your fingers to close around it.

“No,” you respond instantly.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Clark backs down, his voice dropping a bit.

“Then what did you mean?” Sam asks.

“I just want to know why. Why are you acting like this now? You used to be the reserved one. The one who was always careful about everything. You kept me and her on track. Now, you’re in there acting like a high schooler and making me look like an idiot, being all over her like that.”

“All over her?” he repeats with a chuckle. His arm slithers off your shoulders, leaving your skin exposed to the chilled night air. He takes a few steps towards your other boyfriend. “You jealous, Clark? Because as soon as we got home, you know I’d be all over you too.”

He scoffs and looks away. Truly, you doubt jealousy had been the root of Clark’s discomfort. You would’ve been irritated too if they started getting handsy in front of people you wanted to make a good impression on. But it was hard to not get flustered when confronted so directly. When Sam stalked forward like that.

The brunette slides to Clark’s side and maneuvers himself behind him. His hands flatten against his muscular biceps, rubbing the skin softly through his suit jacket. You watch as his lips brush the shell of Clark’s ear in the same way they had to yours.

“C’mon. You know I don’t play favorites,” he coos.

Your darker-haired lover has his eyes fixated on the car beside you three. You knew the feelings coursing through him right now. The same ones that swirled within you fifteen minutes ago.

Sam’s long fingers move South on Clark’s arms. The tips coast over his elbows and along his forearms before getting to his wrists. You know the exact sensation. Like little lines of fire being drawn across your limbs. Similar to you, Clark goes to resist. He just has the actual strength to carry it out.

He pushes Sam’s hands off and looks over his shoulder. “We’re gonna talk about it. You can’t keep avoiding it and expecting us to just go along with this forever,” he says.

Sam smirks at the assertion. He lets Clark move him away. You notice one of his hands slip into his pocket, but before the act can even register, it’s back out and reaching for your other boyfriend’s wrist again.

“We will talk about it. But not tonight,” he says.

The beginning of a disagreement begins to leave Clark’s lips. But the hand that had reached for his cuts his statement short when it flexes and spreads a thin band over his wrist. Clark looks down at it while you observe with confusion. But then you see a sparkle of red.

Your pupils dart back to Clark’s face. You watch as his eyes flicker with that same ruby color. His shoulders rise, and his chest puffs out with innate pride. He doesn’t have that sweet, lopsided grin; now his lips look sinister and menacing as they curl. You don’t even have to ask what it is. You recognize that look. You know the effects of red kryptonite.

“You’re such an asshole!” you explode at Sam. You step towards him, practically shoving Clark behind you. “Why would you do that?! You know he hates that stuff!”

Your arm swings forward, smacking at his chest. He just laughs and dodges your weak blows. “Calm down. He’ll be fine. I just wanted to help him unwind for the night,” he says.

You go for another strike, aiming for his bicep this time instead. Before your limb can connect, two strong arms have looped around your waist and tugged you back against a firm body.

“He’s right,” Clark chimes in. His chin hooks over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck, planting kisses there that make you squirm. “I was letting you get me all wound up. Just needed to take the edge off.”

Without responding, your hands fly to his wrist, desperate to get the bracelet off for him. You’d only seen Clark under the influence of this stuff once before. You really weren’t eager to relive the experience.

But he’s quicker than you. He slides his arm away and spins you around to face him in the process. No longer does your boyfriend have his usual look that likens him to a carefree puppy. Now you stare into the eyes of a wolf.

“Clark-” you start and grab for his wrist again.

He laughs and lifts his arm in the air, dangling his hand a foot over his own head. Much too high for you to reach. Still, you jump and try to pull it down by his elbow.

“That’s not my name you know,” he teases.

You stop jumping and glare at him. “I’m not calling you Kal,” you say flatly, “Give me that. You’re not yourself when that stuff is on you.”

“I’m more myself like this than I am any other time,” he disagrees.

Sam comes up behind you and places his hands on your hips. “Come on. Don’t spoil the fun before it’s really started, babe,” he taunts.

“Get off,” you shoo and shoot him a harsh look as well.

None of your efforts have the intended effect though. Nothing you do intimidates either of your boyfriends whose frames dwarf your own against the side of the car.

“So angry,” Sam mocks. He ducks in and kisses your cheek while Clark grabs your chin and makes you look at him again.

“We just gotta find something that calms you down. You need to let loose sometimes. You’re always so worked up and high strung,” Clark says. He strokes your jaw as Sam brings his mouth down to your throat. He starts laying kisses there, the affection more intense than it had been inside the hotel.

His soft lips glide across your sensitive skin. He licks your pulse, scrapes his teeth over the thumping artery. Your breath hitches. They both can hear it. You know that from how Clark’s smile grows that much more smug.

“You know it feels good,” he coos. He leans in, teasing you with the idea of a kiss. His mouth hovers not even an inch from your own. The warmth of his breath puffs against your skin. With the slightest move the two of you would be touching.

“I can feel how bad you want it,” he murmurs, “So why not give in?”

“It’s not like you could get away anyways,” Sam whispers.

And you know it’s true. You can’t do anything they don’t want, especially not something Clark doesn’t want. They’re bigger and stronger. With Clark’s heightened senses, there’s no hope of hiding either. You know the smart decision here is to give in. To give in and then wait for an opportunity to get that bracelet off him.

However, you can’t even say this is a choice based solely in logic or survival instinct. You want Clark’s lips on yours. You crave more touches from them both. While your rational mind hates these versions of the two of them, your body doesn’t care. Your skin breaks out into chills while your heart rate speeds up all the same.

“You’re gonna regret all of this later,” you whisper to Clark, letting your eyes fall to his plush lips.

“Maybe. But I’m not worried about that. I’m living right now,” he responds.

He closes the gap between the two of you. A soft moan creeps up your throat, escaping against his mouth. You feel him smirk. The sound encourages him to deepen the kiss.

Sam presses closer behind you. He pulls your ass flush against his pelvis and kisses your neck some more. It’s like a flurry all around you. If any of Clark’s coworkers were leaving the party now, this sight would only add to the embarrassment Sam and you caused earlier.

None of you are thinking about that though. You’re completely wrapped up with each other. Your hands have found their way into the dark locks on either side of you. The left one grips Clark’s while your right extends back and tugs on Sam. Heavy breaths blow against your face from multiple angles. Large palms grope at the different curves of your body.

Clark reaches down into his pocket. His fingers fish around for a few moments before pulling out the small set of keys Sam asked about earlier. He pulls off your lips and tugs you to his chest away from Sam.

“You drive,” he says simply, sliding the metallic object into the other man’s hand.

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Seems like you’re more eager than me now.”

He doesn’t resist or argue though. Instead, he taps the unlock button and slides around the back of the car to head to the driver’s side. At the same time, Clark opens the door to the backseat and ushers you in with a pat to your ass.

“You had a taste of her in there. Now it’s my turn,” he grins.

The drive home was a quick one.

It felt like a right turn, a left turn, and then the car slowing as Sam parked it in the driveway. Clark had made good on his words. He took his turn with you. The entire time his hand was up your skirt, his fingers beneath the thin cotton of your panties, drawing little whiny moans from you.

When the vehicle finally came to a full stop, Sam cleared his throat to alert you and Clark. They spoke back and forth a bit, but their specific words eluded you. Before your mind could come down from the high Clark was working you into, they were hauling you inside.

Clothes came off along the way to the bedroom. Clark’s jacket pooled on the floor in the entryway. Your red dress decorated the bannister. Sam’s belt hung around the bedroom door knob.

Now they have you spread before them on the bed. Your panties have abandoned you like the rest of your outfit. You lie bare for their eyes. At the foot of the mattress, they finish undressing themselves. Sam’s in the lead, his fist already stroking his cock while he stares down at you. Beside him, Clark finishes shimmying off his trousers.

“Think it’s my turn again,” Sam says before getting on the bed with you. He takes hold of one of your ankles, pulling the limb aside to spread your legs.

“We can share now. I’m not feeling too patient,” Clark adds. He follows right along with the other man’s movements.

Grabbing your other leg, he pushes it farther away from the other as he crawls towards you. They both descend upon you in sync. With their broad frames, it’s a tight fit, but they manage to both position themselves at the junction of your thighs.

Clark looks to Sam with a big smile across his face. “More fun when we do it together anyways.”

Sam hums in acknowledgement. He stares into those round, blue eyes for a moment more before rotating them to focus on your glistening center. You’re thoroughly slick from Clark’s fingers in the car and all the attention they lavished on you in the parking garage. Two of his digits spread you open. They both gaze at your drippy entrance, your poor swollen clit.

“You don’t even need a warm up tonight, sweetheart. You’re soaked from a few touches,” Sam mocks.

“It was more than a few,” you whimper in defense of yourself.

“Either way… be grateful we’re so nice, willing to give you all this extra attention,” he continues.

“Yeah, especially when you were being so bratty earlier. Talking back, carrying on,” Clark adds.

You whine softly and squirm your hips in an attempt to speed along the teasing. Even with your pouty denial, you know how bad you want them. These words only add to that needy sensation in your belly.

“So desperate,” Sam croons in a low voice.

Luckily for you, Clark doesn’t say anything back. He must have been honest about feeling impatient because instead he just leans in and connects his mouth with your cunt. A sigh bursts from your lips and you tilt your head back against the pillows.

He boosts your thigh over his shoulder and holds it like some sort of handle. His lips kiss your clit a few times, mashing the little bud with their delicate, smooth surface. He then sticks his tongue out and drags it through your arousal. The tip of it sweeps up over your velvety folds and swirls around your button.

Your back arches off the bed. Sam grabs your thigh closest to him and takes it on his shoulder as Clark had done. He turns his head, trailing some kisses over your inner thigh. They start innocent enough, chaste pecks at the most. But as they get closer to your center where Clark is, they grow sloppier. You feel his tongue gliding around in figure eights before his lips engulf the saliva-traced flesh.

When he finally reaches your pussy, you whine loudly. Your eyes flutter, and your heels dig into their backs. They keep you pinned in place, not allowing you to squirm too much or to buck your hips in excitement.

“Good girl,” Clark breathes in a husky tone before sucking on your pulsing clit.

A sharp squeal comes from you. Your toes and fingers curl at the sensation. In the meantime below, Sam prods at your leaky hole with his tongue. At first, he uses broad strokes. He flattens the muscle against your desire-soaked entrance, lapping without shame or hesitance. You moan appreciatively, nice and shameless just how you know they like.

More juices seep out of you as they work you up. That combined with their spit has you thoroughly soaked between your legs. It doesn’t bother them in the slightest. You can see the shimmer of your essence on Clark’s jaw. His eyes are shut, his features relaxed as he showers your tender nub with attention. Sam’s head nods as he licks. It bobs lazily, his nose occasionally bumping Clark’s jaw. He also sports a peaceful expression. It’s the first one on him you’ve seen on him in weeks. He isn’t annoyed or tense or bitter. He’s just lost in the bliss of how good you taste.

Soon, fingers start to get involved. Sam brings his long, slender digits up to slither their way inside of you. He moves his lips North to get more room for them. Clark moves ever so slightly to accommodate him but not by too much. He’s close enough that his nose can still brush against his skin. Close enough that he still feels the occasional swipe of his tongue against his own.

You feel release boiling in the pit of your stomach. Sparkling bursts of ecstasy fizzle from there through all your limbs.

“You gonna cum, baby?” Sam rasps. He pumps his fingers in and out faster, curling them against your clenching walls.

“Mhm,” you force out. Your eyes screw shut while you nod, your head wagging rapidly.

“Go ahead, honey. Cum for us. Show us how good you feel,” Clark hums. He flicks his tongue at your clit just as quickly as your head moves above.

In a matter of seconds, you shriek. Your thighs quiver against the sides of their heads. You roll your hips into the pleasure while clutching at the sheets. Sam’s fingers dig harder into the malleable flesh of your leg. Clark latches his lips onto your bundle of nerves and works you through the high.

At the point where you would normally start to come down, they still haven’t let up. Sam’s fingers don’t recede any. They stay snug in your cunt while Clark continues to make out with your center. You whine. Your hips now buck with the purpose of getting them off. The motion doesn’t achieve that though. They stay right where they are.

“Clark-” you squeal for the main offender. Your eyes roll back and ragged pants of air puff from your lungs. You grab at the two mops of hair between your legs. “Sam...” you whimper with desperation.

Your pleas go unanswered at first. Clark chuckles while Sam grins against your leg. The latter continues to thrust his hand between your thighs.

“What’s the matter?” Sam croons, his brown eyes gazing up at you.

Words tangle up into a needy whine. You bite your lip to suppress the noise before attempting to reply with the sentiment you know they anticipate.

“It’s too much. Too sensitive,” you mewl.

As expected, they only look at you with patronizing smiles.

“Too much?” Clark repeats mockingly, “It’s not too much. You can take it. Can’t she, Sam?”

“She can take it,” the man to his left affirms before redirecting his words at you, “You know you can, baby. You know you like it. You just can’t help yourself. You always need something to whine about.”

“I do not! Ah-” you say, cut off by your own moan.

It’s the feeling of one of Clark’s thick fingers joining the couple of Sam’s that are already inside you. Your toes curl at the minor stretch you feel. It’s nothing compared to the times you’ve taken both of them at once, but still, it brings slight discomfort.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Clark praises as you lose yourself to the moans.

They both duck back in and work with their mouths again. The tips of their tongues brush against one another as they lap at you. Clark moves in impossibly closer, angling his mouth slightly to the left. It leaves him more open to Sam. It gives him easier access to the other man as well.

Sam knows it’s on purpose. This isn’t coincidental positioning. Clark can be just as needy as you. He just has an aversion to acting so openly pathetic about it, especially with red kryptonite on him. 

His head drifts a little more inward, bringing their mouths even closer together. Sam doesn’t hesitate before taking the leap. He tilts himself towards Clark. His tongue slides out against your cunt, but this time it makes full contact with the other man who moans at the warm, wet caress and reciprocates in full.

Your head pops up at the needy sound leaving his throat. You watch with lust-lidded eyes as their tongues tangle with each other against your folds. Their mouths are still touching your skin. The focus has just become split, flowing to all three points of your triad.

It helps to ease the sting of overstimulation that had been nipping at you. You’re able to actually make the descent back to a normal state of arousal. Reaching towards them, you lazily stroke Sam’s hair. You brush his bangs back from his warm forehead before swapping over to Clark and combing your fingers through his tresses that have become damp with sparse drops of sweat.

As they feel your touch, they become more focused on each other. It’s as if more subconscious parts of their minds understand you’ve been attended to. You’ve been sated. You’re not going to get up and leave, so it’s ok to play with each other a bit.

Sam’s the one to deepen the exchange. He draws his fingers that had gone still from the warmth of your cunt. They land on Clark’s shoulder, sliding up to the nape of his neck to pull him closer. Your other boyfriend doesn’t need to be told twice. He moves in for more, his nose bumping against Sam’s. Their breaths grow louder. You can hear every desperate inhale.

A low hum reverberates from Sam’s throat as Clark pushes him back on the bed. He kisses with the same overeager tenacity of a pup desperate for attention from its master.

Sam crumples on his shoulder, letting his back rest against the blankets beneath the three of you. You rise on your elbows and sit up, readjusting your legs. Your eyes trail over their nude bodies. They catch on the way Clark ruts himself against the crevice between Sam’s hip and the mattress. Sam’s flushed length stands stiff between their bodies, oozing the first beads of pre despite being untouched for the most part.

You’re only left neglected for a few seconds more. Sam manages to guide Clark’s lips down onto his neck. He then tilts his head back and reaches for your wrist.

“Don’t think we forgot about you,” he says with a small tug.

You follow along with the direction and scoot closer. Clark’s still got his mouth attached to Sam’s neck, kissing and licking at the curve of his throat. The recipient of the touches sighs at the dull sense of bliss it brings. Clark grinds himself harder against the bed, letting out a strangled moan before lifting his head.

His eyes are drooping with desire too now. The blown out pupils flit from Sam to you.

“We couldn’t forget about you, baby,” he adds, his mind seemingly just catching up with the words your other lover said.

Grabbing you by your waist, he drags you over Sam’s body and gets you flat on the mattress under him. You can feel the heat of his length against your thigh. Sam sits up beside you and strokes your cheek with two of his long fingers. He studies you for a few moments, looking at you with such intensity. Even in the heat of the moment though, you know he’s different. His normal reverence is absent. There’s hardly any affection in his gaze. It feels empty in a sense. As if his actions are guided by pure carnal need.

“I’ll let you have her pussy, Clark. Think her and I need to make up with something closer,” he says as his thumb pulls your mouth open by pressing on your bottom lip.

The plan receives no argument from Clark. It probably would have had he been the one resigned to your mouth, but he had no protests about getting to fuck you.

“Sounds good to me,” he grins and moves to kneel between your thighs. He tugs you closer by your hips, getting you in the position he wants. “You ready, princess? This won’t be too much for you?”

It’s not said with genuine concern. You’re sure the result would be the same regardless of if you nodded or shook your head. His tip is already nudging at your hole, more than ready to be inside.

You feel his cock sink in and split you open in time with Sam pushing his thumb further into your mouth. A moan bubbles up from you before you close your lips around the digit and suck. You shut your eyes too, allowing the physical sensations to overtake you.

Clark works himself in inch-by-inch. To your surprise, he doesn’t jerk himself all the way in, but he doesn’t go slow either. His desire rolls off him in waves. It’s only a matter of seconds before his tip is kissing your cervix and the thin patch of dark hair above his cock is pressed to your pelvis.

Sam pushes down on your tongue with his thumb. You continue sucking. Having it there soothes you in a way. It staves off any remnants of overstimulation, gives you something to focus on besides the thick cock stretching you apart.

But then he removes it. You whine. Moments after it leaves you, Clark draws his hips back and then slams in again. Now he’s set on picking up the pace. You don’t get a break. He doesn’t take a while to figure out a rhythm. He pounds back and forth, already settling into the one he likes.

Sam is rising up next to your head too. Before you realize what’s happening, he’s tapping the head of his dick on the seam of your lips. Your eyes lift to his face, which looks down at you with a condescending smirk.

“Open up, baby,” he purrs.

Obediently, your lips part. He thrusts himself inside with the same force Clark used on your cunt. You screw your eyes shut to try and repress the urge to gag. He chuckles up above, though it sounds distant to your ears. Being full of them on both ends spreads your senses thin. They try to keep up with everything happening, but they can really only catch the most intense pieces. Everything else blurs into a flurry around you. Clark’s needy grunts, Sam’s satisfied hum, the wet squelches coming from your core. All of it mixes together into a hazy bluster.

Sam’s cock drags over your tongue. It’s much heavier than his thumb. Warmer too. You suck on it all the same. You don’t use too much force or bob your head more than necessary. Even if his personality had been different as of late, you know what affects him on a physical level no matter what. You swipe your tongue over that specific vein and press up on the sensitive ridge that makes him buck. He hisses as you’re able to get him going with only a few small maneuvers.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” he grunts. His hands land on either side of your head and hold you in place. “It’s much better when you’re using your mouth for this instead of all that worrying.”

As he grips your skull and begins rocking his hips back and forth, Clark rabbits himself harder into you. His fingers dig into you with such force, you’re sure you can feel the bruises forming on your skin. Normally, Clark was more conscious of his strength. He made sure to never pull too hard or hold too tightly. But when that little red stone sits strapped around his wrist, all concern for those kinds of things leaves his mind. All he cares about right now is the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“She’s so fucking tight. Like more than usual. Thinks she likes us better like this,” Clark moans as he continues fucking into you with fast, needy strokes.

“Yeah? That true?” Sam huffs. He thrusts forward and drags your head all the way down on his cock. 

In place of an answer, you gag. One set of your fingers claws at the bedding while your other clutches one of his thighs. He holds you in place for a moment. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds with panic while your pussy squeezes extra tight around Clark. You hear him whimper at the sensation. It sounds far away, fading almost.

You blink slowly. Your head jerks a little. It’s not a conscious choice. Just the natural survival instinct that drives you to fight for air. You don’t receive it at first. Sam keeps your throat full for a few seconds more before pulling out and allowing you to suck in a breath.

You cough at the sudden influx of oxygen. A few droplets of spit spew forward and flank his v-line. He pets your head, stroking you in a way that seems almost caring.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, “You didn’t even move that much. Kept nice and still like you’re supposed to.”

“Of course. She knows just how to take us,” Clark agrees.

“I guess that’s true,” Sam says, thumbing at your cheek before sliding his cock between your lips again.

He’s not as forceful this time. You don’t stop breathing as you suck and lick at him. He keeps his thrusts pretty shallow. One of his hands rests on the top of your head, maintaining contact without grabbing you.

Simultaneously, Clark’s cock throbs inside you. It aches with the urge to spill. His balls that slap against your ass feel tight, more than ready to drain into you.

Sam can tell he’s close from how hard he’s panting. He doesn’t say anything, just watches. His eyes linger on Clark’s hips as they lose rhythm. They buck against you, sputtering as the rush of release creeps up on him. Sam can feel it approaching for him too. He tilts his head back and lets his eyes fall shut. His hand stays firm on the top of your head, using its position for leverage to start thrusting with a little more fervor again.

You whine around his cock. The faint vibrations only serve to coax Sam farther along. Things feel more blurry for you than it does for either of them. While they feel the clear signs of their impending orgasms, yours arrives suddenly. It explodes within you, snapping like a taut rubber band. Your body twitches and spasms. You feel the urge to arch your back and buck your hips, but you’re stationary for the most part between them.

Clark cums after you. He bursts with a sharp groan. His hips slap against your ass, jerking you upward. He maintains the same firm grip he’s had the whole time. You feel the thick, warm ropes flood you in a few spurts. It feels good, relaxing in a way to know the end is near.

Then your attention is swept up by the man occupying your mouth. Another hiss zips through his lips before you feel the sticky heat of his spend hit the back of your throat. You swallow every drop. It’s not like you have much of a choice. He doesn’t pull out or give you any room to do anything else but accept it.

He holds himself there as his length twitches and then softens. When the pleasure has reached its zenith, he finally begins to slip himself out. A thin string of saliva hangs from your lips and the head before he falls from his knees and sits beside you. He watches as Clark slides out too. Unlike the man by your upper half, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he collapses on top of you.

His body heat seeps into you, his weight crushing your smaller frame. He nips at your neck. “See? It’s so much more fun when you’re not so tense, baby,” he breathes.

“Mhm,” you hum and let your eyes shut.

Sam sinks down next to the pair of you in bed. He doesn’t speak for a couple minutes. Wordlessly, he observes the way Clark holds you beneath him.

“You are much cuter when you’re tuckered out like this,” he says, his voice low and quiet.

You tilt your head against his shoulder and keep your eyes shut, a gesture to show that you’re trying to doze off. Your main hope is that they’ll follow suit. Luckily that seems to be the case as they remain quiet. You hear Sam’s breath even out beside you. Clark stays still on top of you, pressing a lazy kiss to your skin every so often, but it’s not long before you can feel those puffs of air become deeper and more steady.

Once you feel semi-confident they’re both asleep, only then do you open your eyes. As carefully as you can, you shift slightly and reach for Clark’s arm. You keep your movements slow so as to not wake either one of them. When you have his muscular limb held up enough, you hook your fingers around that bracelet and pull. With a little force, it pops free. You don’t know if it’s real or imagined, but you swear you feel his muscles relax.

From your spot on the bed, you toss it towards the closet. The farther it is from Clark the better. You suppose you should probably try to hide from Sam, but for some reason, you don’t feel like he’s set on using it again. Getting it off was pretty easy. Maybe he planned on you doing exactly this from the moment he slid that thing onto your other boyfriend.

Either way, you shut your eyes. You won’t let yourself sleep, but you can at least rest for right now. You and Clark could deal with Sam later. With one of them back to normal, you could figure out how to do the same for the other.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 21

Wow! It always amazes me when story gets past 20 chapters. It makes it ending even harder. But ending it is. I completed the final chapter yesterday. It will have 24 chapters and then it one of the other fics I'm currently working will replace it.

Chrissy makes good on her promise to blow each of the kids' minds.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

~

By invite only is what Chrissy said. Holy shit. There were actual famous people here and Steve was freaking out.

Steve, Robin, and his kids were picked up in a shiny, black limo and taken to Wayne’s ranch. There the amphitheater was set up for Corroded Coffin to play. As evidenced by the black and gold drum kit with their logo slapped on the bass drum.

There were actors and other musicians there. Some pretty big names too. So that got Dustin and Mike sorted. They were freaking out and geeking out about each new person they spotted.

Then Max was tugging on Steve’s arm. “Steve. Steve I can’t believe it. He’s here.”

Steve looked over to see a man, maybe a little bit older than he was standing there talking to Jeff’s dad. He didn’t look like much, but the way Max was vibrating next to him, he knew the guy was famous in a way only see would recognize.

“That’s Steve Caballero,” she sighed wistfully. “When I was out in Cali, he was pioneering the skateboard scene. He’s so awesome.”

And then it hit him. What Chrissy met when she said that she could do something special for each of the kids with one event. And this was Max’s.

“Come on,” Steve said brightly, tugging on her arm. “We’re going to go say hello.”

Max stared at him in shock and tried to tell him she wasn’t going to do that, when Steve yanked on her arm and lead him over to Mr. Lawrence and Steve Caballero.

“Hey, you’re Steve right?” he said with his most charming smile. When the guy nodded, he continued, “My friend here is a huge fan. This Max Mayfield.”

Steve looked her up and down. “Long or standard?”

“Standard,” Max said immediately. “I’ve been working on my kickflip and I’ve almost got it down.”

Steve C. raised an eyebrow. “Where do you go to skate around here?”

Max chatted excitedly with him. “Doing street is the best I can hope for in Hicksville, but there is a quarry nearby where I go to practice my bigger stuff.”

“You should really show me while I’m in town...” Steve C. said as Steve wandered off.

Will was talking to a man and woman and so Steve started walking over that direction.

Will spotted him and pulled him over. “This is Stephen Cosgrove and Robin James. They do the Serendipity books.”

Steve turned his head to the side as he thought about it for a moment. “Is that the one with big pink and green sea dragon or whatever?”

Stephen smiled. “Sea dragon is a much nicer term than sea monster, but yes. That’s us.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “I’ve been meeting a lot of Steves today. First Steve Caballero who skateboards and now you.”

Robin and Stephen shared a glance.

“I’m a Steve too.”

They both “ooh’ed” and nodded.

“This young man was telling us that he wanted to illustrate children’s books,” Robin J. said with a smile.

Steve ruffled Will’s hair. “He’s really good, he was even teaching me a thing or two over the summer.”

“There’s children’s illustration exhibit in Indy while we’re here,” Stephen said brightly. “I think he’d be very interested in seeing it.”

Will looked up at Steve, hopeful.

Steve ruffled Will’s hair again. “We’ll have to ask your mom, but yeah that sounds great. If I can get the information from you.”

And both Stephen and Robin J. hurried to do just that with Robin J. handing Will her personal business card. “When you get a little older, give me a call,” she said with a wink.

Will waved dorkily at them and then let Steve lead him away. “This was so cool, Steve. Thanks for inviting me. I’m more of a ‘The Clash’ fan, but meeting my heroes is so mind blowing and to go to see the exhibit would be the icing on the cake.”

Steve smiled, putting his arm around the kid. “We’ll have to see. Your mom is still mad at me for the whole Eddie is a sugar daddy fiasco.”

“Which is bullshit,” Will huffed. “Even Jonathan thinks Eddie is sweet and this was before you got him that camera. As he pointed out Eddie was out of town and a lot of the gifts were cute and not over the top expensive.”

“I wish Jonathan had been successful,” Steve said dryly, “and the whole mess with Scoops would have been avoided.”

“Yeah,” Will said dourly. “Hop is still mad at her for the whole assault thing. Eddie was taking care of you and yes, she might have not have known who it was at the time, but the fact that you could come and go as you pleased, you were able to spend the money on whatever you wanted, and were really happy... like she should have let it go.”

They went to go find Mike and Dustin. It wasn’t long to find them, they were chatting away with Brian and Gareth.

Brian threw his arms out and cried. “Stevie! The man of the hour! Eddie was excited when you agreed to come out to this.”

Steve smiled at the bassist. “Like I could ever turn down a chance to see you guys play live. I did like the music when I heard it the first time.”

“Eddie told us about your musical indoctrination,” Gareth said with a huff of laughter. “You actually went out and bought heavy metal albums of your own accord, so I’ll give you that. Because I always assumed you liked us live because you liked the outfit Eddie wore.”

Steve quickly covered an ear each of Dustin and Mike and yanked them to his side. “There are children present!” he scandalized with a wry smile.

Brian and Gareth cackled as Dustin and Mike struggled to be released.

“Let me go!” Dustin huffed, pushing at Steve’s side. “I’m not a child!”

Steve let them both go laughing. “Yeah, than tell me what Gareth was referring to and maybe I’ll believe you, dweeb.”

Dustin shrugged. “Probably the same reason my likes Elvis. Young Elvis. The long legs and hips.”

Gareth and Steve shared a wide-eyed glance.

Gareth nodded appreciatively. “I can see why Robin calls you the genius child. Right in one, kiddo. How about you, Mike? You in it for the music or Eddie in tight pants?”

Mike stuttered and sputtered as he turned bright red.

“The tight pants for sure,” Brian teased, elbowing Gareth who was giggling.

“But I like girls!” Mike finally managed to spit out, his eyes wide and his fist clenched.

Dustin raised a confused eyebrow. “My ma is always talking about David Bowie and how he likes both men and women and doesn’t matter who his partner is, he’s not gay if he’s with a man or straight if he’s with a woman, he’ll always be bisexual.”

“I think I want to meet your mom, kid,” Gareth said with a low whistle. “I’d like to shake her hand. Sounds like the best mom, ever.”

Dustin blushed as he flashed a big grin.

“You can be both?” Mike whispered, suddenly shy. He ducked his head and picked at his nails.

Brian put an arm around his shoulders. “Let me introduce you to Jeff, he’s bisexual too. He’ll be able to answer all your questions.” Then he quietly led him away from the group.

“Congrats on blowing that kid’s mind,” Steve said with a huff of laughter. Gareth just grinned back.

Dustin scoffed. “I’ve known Mike liked boys since the fourth grade.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “Well then. Still he’s about to be opened up to a world of possibilities he’s never even considered before.”

“If he’s not as big an ass he likes to pretend he is,” Dustin said rolling his eyes, “then hopefully he’ll have asked Will out by the end of the concert.”

Steve burst out laughing. “I love you optimism, bud. But I think it’s going to take Mike a little bit longer than that.” He held up his finger and thumb and pushed them really closed together.

Dustin just shrugged and then started yapping poor Gareth’s ear off on whether or not the EP Kas’s Revenge counted as their first album or not, so Steve wisely made his escape. It was that he didn’t care about that sort of thing, but it looked like it was about to get into a lot technical stuff that would go over his head.

Lucas peeled away from Brian, Mike, and Jeff and spotted Steve. “Hey, man! Thanks for this! This is cool, too!”

Steve smiled. “You’re welcome. It might be a little unfair you getting two events like this, but I with all the stars and shit here, everyone is getting their own double dose!”

“Eh,” Lucas said, cocking his head to the side, “I’m not too bothered by that.”

Steve laughed. “You are such an asshole sometimes, you know that?” he said, squeezing Lucas’s shoulder.

“Hanging out with Dustin and Mike,” he said with a shrug, “it tends to rub off on you whether you want to or not.”

“That’s true,” he murmured looking around. “Hey, I thought your sister came, too. I don’t see her.”

Lucas looked around frantically. “Shit. I don’t see here either. I thought she was right there with me talking D&D with Jeff. I didn’t even realize that she had wandered off.”

Steve stopped looking for Erica and started looking for Eddie. He knew this place better than Lucas or him. He spotted him getting a drink at the buffet table and made a beeline for him, with Lucas hot on his heels.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve said a little panicked as he neared the rockstar. “Have you seen Erica? Little black girl, pink dress, hair in corn rows?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie said with a grin. “Come follow me.”

Steve and Lucas shared a glance but did as they were told. Eddie led them around the house to a part of the property that Steve hadn’t seen before. Out here was more like what Steve had expected when he was told Uncle Wayne lived on a ranch. There were sprawling pastures and a beautiful bright red barn, like something out of the movies.

A little distance away Steve could see Erica with Uncle Wayne feeding a carrot to a blue roan, while a spotted brown and white horse tried to steal from it.

“Erica!” Lucas breathed out and he trotted up to her. “You need to tell someone before you wander off...”

Wayne looked down at her with a glare. “I thought you told me you had told Steve where you were.”

Erica turned back slowly to Wayne, wide-eyed. “Oh, maybe it was Eddie I told. Or, um...”

Eddie put his hands on his hips. “I know for a fact you didn’t tell me, the only reason I knew where you were is because I know a horse girl when I see one.”

“Uh-huh,” Wayne said eyeing her warily. “I’ll let it slide this time, Missy, but I catch you lyin’ to me again and I’ll revoke your horse visiting privileges.”

Erica pouted. “I’m sorry, Uncle Wayne. I’ll be sure to tell people where I’m going from now on.”

Wayne nodded curtly and went back to feeding the horses. “I don’t think you’ve met my horses the last time you were here, Steve.”

Steve smiled at him. “No, sir. Wasn’t even brought up.” He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow to emphasis his point.

“Ah,” Wayne said pursing his lips together. “I guess I was a tad remiss in my duties then. These are two of my rascals. Jadis and Fledge.”

Steve snapped his fingers as he thought. “Those are from the Chronicles of Narnia, right?”

“Eddie came by his love for fantasy naturally,” Wayne said with a smile. “But why don’t you boys head back to the party, I’ll watch this one and make sure we get to the concert just fine.”

“With the promise I get to bring her back at later date so we can both see the horses,” Steve said with a grin.

Erica looked up at Steve with unbridled glee. “Oh can we?” she asked Uncle Wayne.

“As long as your parents say you can,” Wayne said with a solemn nod, “than that’s a promise.”

As soon as the three of them got back to the party Robin came dashing up to them all bright-eyed and excited.

“Ellie is talking to the Diane Von Furstenberg,” she said breathlessly. “Can you believe that?”

Steve only knew who that was only because his mother hated her.

Eddie lit up. “I’m glad she was able to make it. She’s Chrissy’s favorite designer. I hope Ellie gets a lot of good tips from her.”

“Can I run away with you?” Robin asked in wide-eyed seriousness. “I’ll continue to PA for you, I don’t care. But you know some of the coolest people.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Turn eighteen and we’ll talk then.”

Robin jumped up and down clapping. “You coming with me.” She grabbed his arm and forced him to introduce her to some of the other greats that were there.

Chrissy came bounding up to him all smiles. “So did I win back the favor of the fair prince?”

Steve grinned. “Hell yeah you did! All of them have had their minds blown and then are going to be treated to one of the best live shows I’ve ever seen. And when I say that, that’s not hyperbole, me and my now ex-boyfriend went to a lot of concerts growing up. There is no doubt Corroded Coffin blows them out of the water.”

She grinned up at him. “Hell yeah they do.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @wheneverfeasible @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @themoonagainstmers @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt @just-a-tiny-void

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

[sellyourshadownotyoursoul]

DP x DC WIP: Magical Sugar Daddy

The world exists in shades of green. Everywhere Jason looks he sees sickness and death and the perverted unfairness of it all.

There's blood on his boots, accompanied by the pleasant ache of tired muscles. His hand is still buzzing from the recoil of his gun - the breath in his lungs is tinged with cigarette smoke, dry and acidic.

There's been a presence behind him for a while now, trailing after him no matter what he does to lose the tail. It's like a prickle of static in the air, faint enough to dismiss for anyone less paranoid.

Jason's body is a spring wound too tight, the metal screeching in protest as the feeling of being watched intensifies.

A week and change since he's had a moment of peace.

When he hears the scuffle of a shoe on the quiet rooftop it's no wonder he explodes into action.

The trigger is pulled before he's even turned his head, a roar of thunder in his ears. The butt of his gun misses its target by a hair's breadth as he brings it down in an arc followed up by a kick that finally earns him a reaction. The figure grunts in pain and surprise, but the step it takes backwards isn't one of staggered retreat. It's a pivot on a heel and a coil of muscle before Jason's stalker is vaulting over the smokestack at their side, launching them back into the fight proper.

Jason growls low in his throat, like his lungs do not exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide but what he exhales is instead a heady mix of hunger and rage. There's an answering sound, a hiss pitched high at the end as the two of them clash once more.

Jason blocks a punch and pushes the muzzle of his gun against an unguarded shoulder, point blank. His target flinches hard enough that the shot only clips them but that gives Jason the opportunity for a follow-up punch to the jaw.

The hood of his stalker falls to their shoulders and Jason answers the grin on their face with a baring of teeth hidden behind his mask.

Jason gets a kick to the ribs while he reloads the gun and subsequently opts to just holster the thing so he can have both hands free. The other asshole isn't much bigger than Jason and their guard is sloppy.

He won't need weapons for this.

A misstep from his opponent has Jason surging forward to fling them over the edge of the roof before a flip that would make Dickie proud reverses their positions. It forces Jason to roll under a kick so he isn't the one meeting the pavement at lethal velocity.

His attacker appears male, age unclear but certainly out of their twenties. Jason grabs the snowy white braid that flows behind them and feels a rush at the gasp that pulls from the guy, even as the retaliation gets him an uppercut that makes his vision swim.

Jason twists the hair around his fist, forcing the head it's attached to into the pavement at their feet.

He slams it down once, twice, before a leg around his own has him lose his balance. He lands on his elbow and curses at the pain shooting through it even as he gets back up and rounds on his opponent. He blocks a punch by diverting it outwards, stepping back and to the side so the fight stays in the center of the roof.

There's blood running freely down the other man's front from a nose that Jason bets is broken, the liquid looks jet black in Jason's monochromatic world of sickly lazarus green.

The eyes watching him are wide and alert, a manic edge to them from the bared fangs and the tense posture. They both surge forward, trading blows and kicks until they're breathing heavy and Jason can tell his opponent is flagging.

The way they move makes it clear they're not a fighter, at least not one with a preference for hand-to-hand. They keep up with Jason just barely, but it's already clear who the winner is going to be, even as Jason lets it drag out until there's sweat running down his back.

A kick from Jason's steel toed boot against an unarmored shin is what finally ends it. His opponent falls to the ground with a curse and they don't get back up even as Jason looms over them. Their eyes are half-lidded, hands sprawled out limply above their head in defeat, but there's a smile on their face that really tests Jason's ability to suppress the urge to tear out their throat. He places a boot on the guy's sternum and puts enough weight on it to show he's serious.

A low sound, a mix of a grunt and a laugh, precedes a weak attempt to buck Jason off but he doesn't budge.

“Talk,” Jason rasps.

A dark tongue swipes through the drying blood on his assailant’s lips and they cough wetly before responding.

“Nice to meet you,” is what he says, strained from the pressure on his lungs, “fuck, you're good.”

“Who sent you?” Jason's demand is curious but dripping with derision. Who would send a fucking prodigy of stealth just to have them suck at actually taking out the target?

Jason hadn't been able to lose this stalker for over a week, had gotten litterally zero intel on who this fucker is despite having Oracle and half his own men on high alert.

And then the guy just walks up and scuffs his shoe against the pavement?

Suicide by Red Hood much?

“Technically Clockwork, but I'm not really-” the guy coughs again, trying to breathe, “not really someone people can send.”

Jason prompts him to continue with an addition of pressure to his ribs. He doesn't feel any sort of armor under the neutral hoodie, nor do the cargo pants look like they're in any way reinforced. They're clean though and clearly not the kind of worn Jason expects for someone trying to blend in this side of town. No camouflage tech unless it's nano-sized.

The man wrinkles his nose, eyes flicking down to the boot and back up to Jason's face.

“Okay, look I know I'm late, but I'm here to apologize,” he says with another little grunt and a wiggle. Jason keeps him pinned.

“I didn't actually know you were mine until a year ago-”

“Yours?” Jason scoffs, something sour rising in his gut.

“Yeah?”

“I don't fucking belong to you,” Jason states darkly, one hand unholstering his gun.

There isn't any immediate reaction to the escalation, but Jason can feel a strange charge in the air. The body underneath him certainly doesn't relax.

“Fuck, okay sure, yeah, no ownership,” the guy huffs but the voice is not nearly as afraid as it should be, “that's kind of, ah, what I wanted to talk about.”

“And if I tell you to fuck off?”

“Then I'll fuck off.”

Jason pauses, tilting his head in consideration.

“Who are you?” Jason's question is wary and curt, a final offer to change his mind before he cocks his gun. The guy under him watches with bright, intense eyes, seemingly unperturbed by the monster looming above.

“I'm the reason you're still alive, Jason.”

Jason laughs coldly at the boldness of that statement.

“Bullshit,” he spits.

The eyes continue to watch him, appearing to glow in the faint light. The guy's face is set in a grimace, but it's one of mild inconvenience rather than pain. He should have a concussion at least, not to mention a fracture or two, so he's either trained to withstand pain or some kind of meta. Maybe he's hopped up on some new drug that's got him unaware of the damage. A byproduct of whatever made him so difficult to track.

Neither of them are panting anymore.

“Last chance,” Jason drawls as he takes aim at a damp forehead, already feeling the anticipatory rush that comes with taking a life.

He is admittedly not intending to let this little stalker live no matter what comes out of his mouth. Not when he knows Jason's name, not when there might not be another chance to tie up the loose end.

The guy seems aware of it too, eyes flickering over Jason's mask as if trying to find the right combination of words to buy just a little more time.

He opens his mouth, closes it again.

He sighs through his nose, a wet sound when it displaces the coagulating blood, and lets his head fall back against the concrete rooftop. The message seems clear in the resigned set of his shoulders and Jason feels an irrational indignance at being denied the struggle.

Nevertheless he pulls the trigger.

BANG

The sound echoes into the distance until it blends into every other incriminating noise Gotham makes at night. Jason frowns down at the would-be corpse.

He couldn't have missed, not with the muzzle barely a foot from its target - but there's no bullet hole marring the face at his feet. The eyes remain alive and aware as they watch Jason's growing confusion.

“What the fuck,” he mutters.

That earns him a stuffy snort. The man's hands flare out as if to say ‘ta-dah’ and only flinch minutely when Jason sends another bullet into him.

“Rude,” the guy comments, in the cadence of someone annoyed rather than relieved.

“What are you,” Jason demands in response, forcefully holstering his gun now that it has proven to be worthless. Looks like fists are going to be the way forward.

“Loaded question,” the guy groans unhelpfully, pushing at Jason's leg with little success.

Jason makes a point of momentarily increasing the pressure, staring the fucker down through the whiteouts of his mask.

“You survived a lazarus pit,” stalker offers, the words a sucker punch to an unhealed wound that Jason refuses to acknowledge, “which means you accepted the price that comes with it, whether you knew about it or not.”

“And that explains what, exactly?”

“You asked what I am,” the guy shrugs.

“And you still haven't answered.”

There's a moment where stalker-guy gazes up into the cloudy, dark sky, hands settling from their attempts to remove Jason's boot to instead tap idly against the leather. The fingers are long and thin, the kind an author might describe as suited for playing the piano, the nails neither bitten to the quick nor so long as to appear unkempt. Jason feels a sudden urge to break those fingers one by one just to see if that might yield a more satisfying reaction. Or some answers. His eyes catch on a sleek black band on the ring-finger of the guy's left hand and wonders momentarily if his shadow’s got someone waiting for him. He pities them.

“Price,” Jason prompts, “explain.”

“Right, yeah I can do that-do you mind stepping off? The bullets are digging into my back-”

“Maybe if you give me a reason to,” Jason retorts with a sneer, feeling the absolute furthest from any notion of ‘charitable’.

Stalker-guy sighs.

“Got it, okay, so, I'm basically your magical sugar-daddy-”

“My fucking what-” Jason chokes, feeling distinctly like the gravity of the situation is doing loop-de-loops.

“Your patron. Your new one, anyway,” the guy shrugs again, as if that's a concept that's common knowledge.

Jason forces air into his lungs. The world flickers.

“You paid your soul to my predecessor and he gave you back your memories.”

Jason's insides are made of cracked glass and every syllable pushes further up against it. Isn't the pit rage enough of a price?

“I came to introduce myself,” Jason's apparent ‘magical sugar-daddy’ continues conversationally, “which I guess I still haven't, technically.”

Jason's hands are white-knuckled fists, his vision is green and tunneling. From the moment he had him pinned every word out of his stalker's mouth has done nothing but add more fuel to the anger sitting low in Jason’s gut. The need for this piece of shit to at least have the decency to be afraid.

Talking about Jason's fucking soul - about paying the price and book-ending it with a term as crass as ‘sugar-daddy’ is so discordant it is almost physically painful. Mentioning the pits and claiming to have saved Jason's life in such a blasé manner has him writhing with indignation. The condescension drips from him and his every action, too similar to-

Jason's spiraling is interrupted by a change to his balance. His foot on the guy's chest hits the concrete underneath, the sight of his calf sticking out of what should have been a living, breathing body causing a momentary stutter in Jason's reality.

Then the guy is on his feet, reaching out a hand as if they weren't at each other's throats a moment ago. As if the bullets lodged in the concrete weren't intended for one of their heads. As if he cannot sense the raw malice pouring out of Jason.

“I'm Danny, sorry for the wait.”

[travelingtwentysomething]

Eddie is impressed.

Eddie is half chubbed up.

Eddie realizes Steve is actually sort of intimidating.

Eddie doesn't like feeling like this guy is somehow looking down on him and his antics like he's some spoiled rich brat.

Like Eddie doesn't know the struggle.

Eddie hates Steve.

Steve continues to work for Eddie, ignoring all his moods like a mom ignoring a toddler's tantrum, happily anticipating his needs and being more competent than anyone in his position has any right to be.

Over the first few months After Steve, Eddie's mercurial moods swing wildly from "I'm going to make your life hell until you quit", to "damn this man is so incredibly sexy I want to make him quit his job so I can spoil him".

But at this point, Eddie is spoiled.

Steve gets absolutely everything right- he is perfect.

Eddie spills his coffee on his shirt in the car on his way to the Grammys, his stylist team is having a conniption in the back of the limo-

Steve calmly pulls his backpack into his lap, and out of it comes a tide pen, baby wipes, a portable steamer, and a battery powered blow-dryer. (Who even knew that was a thing?) And in the 20 minute wait in the limo line on the red carpet, Steve has him out of his dress shirt (that's tossed to the side unsalvageable) and the Gucci suit clean and pressed like nothing ever happened. And as an added touch- Steve pulled out a brush and some highlighter to put a dash of glitter on his collarbones, the cleavage above his pecs, and a little dot on each of his abs. So when Eddie steps out of the car he "looks like a wet dream instead of another boring rockstar in a designer suit".

At least that's what Rolling Stone said when the pictures got published all over their website to massive fanfare.

Eventually, Eddie can't help but catch himself smiling in the morning when he wakes up with his first thought being excitement to see Steve and get their day started. Instead of barking orders and tantrums, they somehow get to the point where they're joking with each other and even sharing actual conversations.

Steve becomes so integral to Eddie's brightened mood and new outlook on life, Eddie starts dreading Steve's days off. It's in his contract that any day Eddie isn't scheduled to work an event, a concert, or a studio day, Steve has the option to take a paid day off to catch up on his own life.

So Eddie becomes a workaholic.

If he's not on tour or in the studio, he's got some promo, photoshoot, or work social event scheduled. He's even taken up a modeling contract and become a brand ambassador for Gucci. When that still left a few days free here and there, he started looking into acting gigs.

He had never been so productive, and so astronomically famous.

Eddie's music was also coming easier, Steve was his muse.

Eddie was so inspired he's been cranking out songs so often, and in so many styles and genres, that his publishing deal had quadrupled in value and he's sold more number one hits to other artists over their first year together than Eddie had songs on Corroded Coffin's albums combined.

Steve is with him every step of the way. He never complains, he always has a smile on his face for Eddie, and he tells him all the time how much he seems to have grown in the last year, and how proud he is to watch it all happen for him.

Eddie feels like an asshole.

Eddie is unequivocally and unconditionally in love with Steve.

Eddie is Steve's boss.

No matter how much they act like friends (and occasionally engage in flirty banter) Steve is off limits, because Eddie may be a rotten asshole at his core, but he would never abuse his power like that.

But maybe he already has.

He has ruined Steve's life.

Eddie realizes a few days before their one year anniversary (Eddie is only calling it that in his head, he doesn't want to sound like a psychopath) he has isolated Steve from his own life so much that he hasn't asked for a day off in 6 months.

Steve never seems to take any time for himself anymore. He even has a room at Eddie's house because he spends about 5 nights a week there since Eddie tells him he doesn't want to deal with the chaos it puts his busy and tight schedule into when Steve gets waylaid by his commute in LA traffic.

Steve barely spends more than a few hours at a time away from Eddie, and he only sees his one friend- Chrissy's wife Robin- on nights he's not staying at Eddie's. Which means that commute comes with a side of exhaustion because he always comes back with bruises under his swollen eyes like he'd stayed up too late trying to catch up with his best friend and fit an entire week's worth of socializing squeezed into one or two nights a week.

Eddie wants to be a good person and let go of Steve so he can find a job with a healthier work-life balance, somewhere with a boss that doesn't treat him like a slave to his own whims and fancies, a boss that doesn't secretly hope that one day Steve will fall into his bed and into his arms like this isn't some 50 shades of bullshit arrangement.

Eddie is terrified to lose Steve.

To his horror, the day comes unexpectedly on their anniversary.

Steve gave him a speech about how Steve had loved being a part of Eddie's journey, how he had watched Eddie grow with awe, how he was inspired every day by Eddie's drive, and his art, and his kindness. Steve praised him for the way his attitude about life had taken a 180 turn from when they met a year ago. He thanked Eddie for taking Steve along for the ride, becoming his best friend, and respecting him above all else.

But Steve needed to go. Because he had reached his limit. He had done everything he could for Eddie, but it was time that Steve "joined the real world again and stopped living in a fantasy".

Steve would always be here for Eddie as a friend, but he had to go out and build a life for himself.

Eddie thanked Steve and told him he understood, that he valued Steve's friendship above everything, and that he would be getting the biggest bonus and one hell of a severance package.

Eddie went home to his empty house and drank until he blacked out.

When he woke up his kitchen and living room looked like someone had opened up a rage room and taken a bat to anything that wasn't nailed down. He looked in the corner of the room and saw a bat sticking out of the drywall next to the sliding glass door.

Okay, so he hadn't been robbed.

Then why did it feel like someone had stolen his heart straight out of his chest like a Mortal Kombat Finisher?

When Chrissy walked through his front door just as the afternoon was turning to evening and Eddie was on his third hair-of-the-dog, he didn't even uncurl himself from his fetal position on a couch afloat amongst a sea of glass and wood scraps from what was once a very expensive coffee table.

"Oh you poor, poor-" Chrissy crooned, "stupid fucking idiot." She slapped a pillow so hard down on his head that he was seeing Chrissy's identical twin floating above her for a minute or two.

Eddie sat up, indignant, ready to lay into Chrissy for the assault on his already wounded body and soul, but was thrown back down to the couch by another smack of the pillow, this time to his chest.

Seems like Chrissy really hadn't let herself go since playing herself through college on that softball scholarship.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Chrissy shrieked with fury Eddie had only seen from her once. (Her high school boyfriend, Jason, had gate crashed her wedding and tried to "object" when she was about to say her vows to Robin on the grounds that "Chrissy isn't gay, she's just confused by California's woke agenda and should come home to Indiana with him".)

Eddie threw himself over the back of the couch and landed ungracefully on the hardwood floor, groaning in pain, but happy to have put a couch between him and Chrissy's pillow. He popped his head over the back of the couch and had to duck back down quickly to avoid a rocket from Chrissy's throwing arm.

"Chrissy! What the hell is going on?" Eddie cried from his prone position behind the couch.

"Why don't YOU TELL ME, EDDIE?!" Chrissy screamed. "Steve showed up at mine and Robin's last night bawling his eyes out and he and Robin locked themselves up in our bedroom and I haven't heard anything from either of them for the last 12 hours except for the one time Robin came out to collect the 6 bags of food she ordered from the convenience store at 3 am, and all I could get out of her was that Steve had finally quit."

Eddie popped back up from behind the couch, only to receive a pillow to the dome, a crunch swiftly followed by a groan the only sound he was able to make as he fell back, nose gushing blood.

"Oh my God, Eddie, FUCK!" Chrissy jumped over the couch and landed on the other side and crouched down next to Eddie, he flinched when her hands came up to hover over his broken nose. "Shit, I'm sorry! Fuck, let's go to the kitchen, you need a towel and some ice." She grabbed his elbow and dragged him up, escorting him to a seat at the counter while she ran over to the fridge and grabbed a bag of frozen peas and a kitchen towel from the drawer next to the sink.

"Here-" Eddie snatched the bag of peas from her before she could get any closer to his broken nose. "Sorry, look, I came in here ready to calmly ask what happened, but I saw you drunk in your living room that looks like the suite at the Four Season's after CC's first Grammy and I thought that we were past all this. Eddie, you've been doing so much better for so long, what the hell happened last night?" Chrissy looked around at the devastation, landing back on Eddie and seeing it reflected in his eyes.

"Oh. Oh, you poor, poor-"

"—Stupid fucking idiot." Eddie groaned. He couldn't stand to see the understanding in Chrissy's eyes and so he folded his arms and laid his head down on the counter, cold peas pillowing his swollen eyes and nose.

"Wait. I'm confused. So you finally told him?" Chrissy asked.

"Told him what, Chris? That I'm in love with him? I didn't get the chance." Eddie hiccupped into his frozen peas, never lifting his head, curly hair acting as a curtain around his face, hiding his shame from his oldest friend and manager. "Steve quit. Said he needed to stop living in a fantasy, join the real world, and build a life for himself. But that he'd always be here for me as a friend-" Eddie couldn't stop the sob from escaping his chest.

Chrissy pulled him off the counter and into her arms.

Eddie cried like a baby.

When he calmed finally and could breath normally again, they had somehow migrated to the couch in his fully intact living room at the front of the house.

"Eddie, I don't want to alarm you. But I think you really are an idiot." Chrissy patted his shoulder fondly.

Eddie pulled away from her, appalled at her lack of empathy.

"Don't give me that look. Think for a second." Chrissy grabbed his hand and in both of her tiny ones. "Steve is at my place right now, devastated, just like you. He told you he needed to stop living in a fantasy, and build a life for himself. That he's always going to be your friend." Chrissy looked imploringly into Eddie's eyes, willing him to understand the conclusion she was slowly coming to.

"Yeah, that's what he said, Chris, you don't have to rub it in." Eddie scoffed uncharitably, ripping his hand back.

"No, Eddie." Chrissy hopped up onto her knees, excitement building as she got more sure of her theory, grabbing Eddie's hand again, "Steve is not okay. He is holed up with his best friend in the break up protocol- ice cream, junk food, and platonic cuddles in bed. He doesn't know that you see him as more than just a friend. And he is devastated that he is always going to be your friend, and he has to give up the fantasy, and go build a life for himself-" by now Chrissy was bouncing next to Eddie, her smile chasing away the clouds that had darkened his eyes, "—because he doesn't realize that you want to build a life with him."

"You don't think you're reaching a little here, Chris?" Eddie asked, though he couldn't help the glimmer of hope that had already taken root in his chest, chasing away the darkness that had been clawing its way deeper since Steve walked away from him last night.

"Eddie, if you don't get your ass off this couch and over to my place right now and go profess your undying love to Steve I'm going to beat your face in." Chrissy said with a sincerity that scared Eddie into standing immediately and looking for his keys.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for my keys."

"We're taking my car."

"Well then let's fuckin go, I have to go get my heart back."

"Jesus that was cheesy."

"Shut up, I have six Grammys."

"Well four of those are from this year, so you better get Steve back or clearly you can kiss your songwriting career goodbye."

"Heeeeyyyyy."

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

[just1cefor4ll]

—You’re the type of person they write rock songs about

modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. swearing, might be OOC, not proof read

part four || part five || part six

‘Ooh love, ooh lover boy

What’re you doing tonight? Ooh, hey boy.’

——————————————————————————

[powpow] y/n.

[powpow] y/n I KNOW YOU’RE STILL HERE.

[powpow] ANSWER ME YOU COWARD.

[ekk0stime] they’re definitely just lying there, staring at their screen, kicking their feet or some shit.

[ishaq] yeah, probably overthinking a two word message.

[truly.y/n] I ACTUALLY HATE YOU ALL.

[powpow] no u don’t <3

[ekk0stime] soooooo when’s the second date?

[ishaq] “second” implying y/n considers tonight a first date LMAO.

[powpow] THAT’S SO TRUE WAIT.

[truly.y/n] I AM NEVER SPEAKING TO ANY OF YOU AGAIN.

[powpow] oh, so you’ll just talk to Viktor instead? got it.

[ekk0stime] they walked right into that one.

[ishaq] perfect example of self-sabotage.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. This was a mistake. Responding was a mistake. Having friends was a mistake.

Your phone buzzed again—another message from Viktor.

[vik.tor222] You should rest. Big night and all.

[vik.tor222] Goodnight, rockstar.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping up your neck.

[truly.y/n] goodnight, vik :)

You turned off your phone and threw it onto your nightstand, rolling onto your side with a groan.

Your friends were.. annoying— but you were all like siblings, hence the mutual bullying.

The next morning, you woke up to exactly 53 new messages in the group chat. You stared at the notification in pure dread before finally tapping on it.

[powpow] GOOD MORNING STARSHINE THE EARTH SAYS HELLOOOOO

[powpow] u guys think y/n dreamt about viktor last night wrong answers only

[ekk0stime] absolutely not who do u think she is?

[ishaq] hell no— she knows a viktor? who the hell is he

[powpow] LMAOOAOA Y/N CONFIRM OR DENY

[powpow] HELLO????

[powpow] I KNOW UR AWAKE.

[ekk0stime] what if viktor was their first thought when they woke up too.

[ishaq] oh, they definitely checked their phone hoping for another text from him.

[powpow] AWWW THAT’S SO CUTE

You groaned, rubbing your hands down your face. These people were your friends—allegedly.

[truly.y/n] you guys need hobbies.

[powpow] we do. it’s bullying u.

[ekk0stime] it’s a full-time job actually.

[ishaq] benefits are great.

You were about to fire back something equally stupid when a private message popped up.

Viktor.

[vik.tor222] Morning, rockstar. :)

You blinked at the screen, suddenly feeling way too aware of yourself. Why was that the first thing you saw today? And why did it make your stomach do a weird little flip?

[truly.y/n] morning, viktor!!

Your group chat was still blowing up, but you ignored it. Instead, you stared at your phone, waiting to see if Viktor would say anything else.

And then—

[vik.tor222] Are you free tonight?

Your brain short-circuited.

You glanced at Viktor's message one last time before typing back.

[truly.y/n] I actually have plans tonight. Band sleepover

You waited for his response, but it was a little too long for your liking, and you started second-guessing yourself. Was that a weird thing to say? Should you have said something else?

Before you could overthink too much, his message came through.

[vik.tor222] Sounds like a fun time. I hope everything goes smoothly tonight.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you quickly typed back.

[truly.y/n] Thanks! It’ll be good, I’m sure.——————————————————————————You tossed your phone on your bed and grabbed a jacket, already hearing the excitement building outside your room. Powder, Ekko, and Isha were probably already messing around— making the other people in your block feel like kicking their asses.

As you left your room, the sounds of your bandmates filled the air, laughter echoing from outside your dorm

“Finally,” Powder called out as soon as she saw you, waving bowling tickets in the air. “We thought you were ditching us or something.”

“Right, I’m ready to go, come on— i’ll be driving so help yourself to whatever you want when we get there.” You said, plopping down into the drivers seat before driving off, radio on blast as you started your 15 minute journey to the game center.

Soon laughter filled the air as everyone tried to outdo each other with strikes, spares, and ridiculous celebratory dances after each turn. “Watch and learn, I’m about to get a strike,” Powder declared, only to knock down just three pins. You laughed, offering her a playful round of applause.

Isha made a dramatic bow after her perfect strike. "I’m the undisputed champion of this group." She signed, putting a peace sign before sitting down at the booth to eat some of the chips you bought. Ekko rolled his eyes after knocking down a solid seven pins. "Don't forget, I'm also winning in the high score department." As the game continued, you found yourself enjoying the distractions. It was good to have moments like this, to just not think too much about everything.

By the time the game ended, everyone was feeling a bit more relaxed, though the chatter about Viktor never quite stopped.

As you all packed up to leave the bowling alley, Powder was grinning. ���I think we should have a rematch next week, but I’ll let you all catch up to my skills first.” Ekko raised an eyebrow. "Catch up? You just got lucky." "Uh-huh," Powder teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I’m basically the bowling queen." Isha gave you a look as you all walked out to the car. "So, is this the night we hear about your secret texts with Viktor? Or are they still off-limits?" Powder asked, throwing an arm over your shoulder. You groaned. "Can we please talk about something else for once?" "Not a chance," Ekko chimed in, “You know we’re all dying to hear how you really feel about him." You threw your hands up in mock surrender. "Fine. I’ll tell you everything, but later.” Everyone agreed— but you did earn a few groans before continuing your night.

When you finally made it to Ekko’s dorm, you were relieved to have a chance to relax. As everyone filed in, you grabbed snacks and drinks and settled on the couch. “Alright,” Ekko said, popping open a soda and leaning back. “Movie time” You groaned dramatically, “But you always pick the worst rom-coms ever, let Isha pick she always picks the good shit.” Ekko flips you off, grumbling before sitting down on the coach.

After a few moments of silence once the movie credits came rolling in, Powder leaned in with that recognisable mischievous grin. “Alright, no more dancing around it. Tell us what Viktor said. I need the full rundown.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of their anticipation, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. You knew you wouldn’t get out of this without giving them some details. Isha leaned forward, her eyes wide with excitement. “We promise, no freakouts. Just the details.” She signed and sat right next to you, throwing her legs over your lap to scoot closer so she could see your phone screen which contained all the messages they’ve been dying to see.

You let them scroll through the messages, earning some dramatic gasps and ‘no way’s’ as they handed you the phone back. Of course, Powder spoke up first; “Yeah that’s definitely not a ‘we’re just friends’ type of message.” She said, pointing out several of the messages she deemed fit to that description— Ekko and Isha agreeing. You tried to brush it off, but your heart fluttered at the memory of his words. “It’s just polite. Nothing more.”

“Sure,” Ekko chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “I definitely text my friends good morning texts, ask to meet her alone without her very close group of friends, ask if she’s free the day after that and give her cute little nicknames.” He said very obviously with sarcasm laced in his voice.

The room went quiet for a second. Isha was the first to say something, her expression filled with intrigue. “Hold up. So, he asked if you were free tonight? Like, right now?” “Yeah, but I told him I had plans,” you said, looking at them sheepishly. “I have this sleepover with you guys, so I couldn’t—” you gestured toward them, “—ditch you.”

Powder raised her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fair, I’d be mad if you ditched us for Viktor. But still... that’s.. something.” You groaned and sank back into the couch, realizing you’d just confirmed all their suspicions. “I don’t know, alright? It’s not that deep. He’s just... being nice.” Ekko shook his head, smiling. “Nah, that’s more than being nice. He’s interested. You’d be crazy to think otherwise.” Isha nodded, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Yeah, he’s not texting you like that unless he really wants you.”

“Ugh,” you groaned again, covering your face with your hands. “Why do you guys have to make this such a big deal?” Powder laughed, slinging an arm around you. “Because, Y/N, it’s adorable and we’re here for it. Also, you’re totally not fooling us. There’s definitely something going on.” You shook your head but couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your face. Maybe they were right. Maybe there was something more to all of this. But you weren’t ready to dive into that just yet.

“Alright, enough about Viktor,” you said, sitting up straight. “Let’s just focus on having fun tonight, yeah? No more talking about him.” “Sure, sure,” Powder said with a grin. “But tomorrow you need to text him— and let us help you out. You’ve been warned.” You laughed, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as your friends went back to teasing you in the most ridiculous ways. For tonight, though, you were content. You had your friends, a whole sleepover ahead of you, and the feeling of something new and exciting with Viktor still lingering in the back of your mind. You were okay with that—at least for now.

Viktor sat back in his chair, working on an essay the professor handed out two days ago. He let his friends tag along to the library with him so he had some sort of company— and partially because Jayce practically begged to come with.

Vi leaned forward with a grin that Viktor knew was both teasing and knowing. “Come on, Viktor. What’s going on with you and Y/N? There’s definitely some sparks between you too.” He carefully avoided her gaze, taking a long sip of his coffee, as if it would ground him. “There’s nothing going on. We’re just—getting to know each other.” The words felt rehearsed even as they left his mouth. Jayce raised an eyebrow, his attention now fully on Viktor. “You sure? You’ve been acting differently. You’ve never really been one for.. opening up to people.” Viktor remained calm, though his pulse quickened. "I’m still me, Jayce," he said, his voice a little too smooth. "Nothing’s changed."

Mel, who had been watching him quietly, folded her arms and spoke in a voice that was always direct. “You’re not fooling anyone, Viktor. Something’s different. I can tell by the way you’ve been acting around her.”

Viktor’s eyes flickered to her, his usual composure slipping just slightly. “I don’t think you understand,” he replied softly, his tone serious. “I’m not looking for anything complicated. I’m just.. not ready to go down that road. Not yet.”

“Alright. I won’t pressure you. But you’ve got to admit... there’s something there.” Vi said with a awkward smile, sensing the slight tension of the topic. Viktor didn’t answer right away, and for a moment, the conversation seemed to lull. He couldn’t really ignore the way Y/N made him feel—how she’d slipped into his life so effortlessly, how easy it was to be around her. But it was still too new. They’d known each other for less than a month. It felt too soon to even consider anything beyond what it was now.

Finally, after a long pause, Viktor sighed and set his coffee down, his fingers gripping the edge of the table with a tension that betrayed his calm exterior. “Fine,” he said, his voice lower now, quieter. “I do feel something. I won’t deny it.” He hesitated before continuing, his tone thoughtful, almost guarded. “But it’s too soon. We’ve barely known each other for a month. I’m not ready to rush into anything.”

The room fell quiet, the others processing his admission. Vi gave him a knowing look, but she didn’t press him further.

Mel spoke up after a bit, her tone more measured than usual. “It’s understandable, Viktor. Sometimes the timing just isn’t right. But don’t let fear of moving too fast hold you back, either. Whatever happens, happens. Just don’t shut yourself off completely.”Viktor nodded, the weight of their words settling on him. “I’m not shutting myself off,” he muttered, but his voice was softer now, almost to himself. “I just don’t want to move too fast. I need time to figure things out.” Jayce leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. “Hey, at least you’re being honest with yourself. That’s a start.” Viktor gave a slight smile but didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his attention to the books in front of him, the conversation lingering in the air between them.

For now, he’d keep his feelings close. But somewhere deep down, he knew that whatever happened with Y/N, it wouldn’t be so easily ignored.

© just1cefor4ll— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

taglist: @skullmvncher @startingtoloveyou @lolixsstuff @astarionapologist @erica2024

[lis-likes-fics]

Willing and Able

Pairing(s): Aegon Targaryen x servant!Reader Word Count: 1.6k words Prompt: Blowjobs Warnings: NSFW, smut, allusions to noncon/rape, mentions of prostitution, oral (m!revieving) cum on face, allusions to sex... A/N: This is the first fic of my Valentine's Day event. Hope you enjoy and happy reading.

You are likely the only maid in the whole of the Red Keep who has served under Aegon Targaryen and not been frightened away.

The first time he had caught you in the middle of your cleaning duties, it had been a bit by surprise. It was a bit jarring, but you had ultimately expected it and were prepared.

You are not new to things like this. You were raised in a pleasure house—your mother was a whore—so you have had your practice. So when the prince snuck up on you, you were more than willing to submit to him.

It helps the others at least. The ones who have come and gone, and the ones who still come now take less of a blow with you around to better control his impulses. There have been fewer complaints. While they snicker behind your back about it, they make no move to stop you.

“Darling, won't you do me a favor?” Aegon coos with false affection.

You had hoped to finish your chores before getting caught up by his whims, but no matter. He had been patient enough to let you dust his bedchamber first, watching you the way a dragon guards his hoard. You felt his gaze, stuck to your skin like sap. You heard the sound of a deep hum every time you bent in no particular direction.

You hum lightly, “Yes, my prince?” You continue gathering dirty clothes in a basket to be cleaned.

You had not heard him stand. He can be so swift sometimes, so quiet. You would never see him coming if you were not so used to his advances.

His hand wraps around your arm, pulling you gently back as he turns you to face him. He cups your chin with his hand, his fingers caressing your skin as his thumb brushes against your lips.

He takes the basket, lets it drop to the floor with little care. “I have been thinking of you all day,” he purrs. “Thinking about this precious little mouth of yours…”

You would never admit it to any of the others…but you quite enjoy this part of your job. You could not say you hold immunity against his charms, which he possesses only when his advances are not so forceful. You enjoy his embrace because you know how to handle it, how to handle him. You let yourself melt into his hand, against the heat of his body.

“Well, perhaps then I know how to quell your thoughts,” you smirk, tilting your head slightly. You place your hands to his chest, slowly walking him back until he is forced to sit once more.

He looks up at you, a slick grin on his lips as you lower yourself into his lap. You slip your hand behind his neck, cupping the back of his head and guiding him to your lips.

His mouth is hot against yours, very hot. You assume it to be a Targaryen trait—it must be. His tongue licks against your lips, tasting you with an appreciative hum.

You tilt his head back, your nose grazing the underside of his jaw as you lick and nip at his neck, teasing and tasting him and relishing the way he sighs.

Your nails scratch at his scalp, taking locks of silver hair between your fingers and twirling them. You giggle with every little hitch of his breath, worse when his hands come to your hips, gripping and grasping possessively.

You nip at his ear as you whisper through a soft breath. “I assume my prince likes what I'm doing.”

He chuckles lightly, his lips curled in a smirk. “You assume correctly.” You answer with a hum, scratching his scalp and kissing the curve of his jaw.

“I am pleased.”

His grip tightens on your waist, pulling your hips closer to his own with the slightest growl in his voice. “I had hoped you would be so pleased as to not tease me.” He turns his lip in a fake pout. “You know how fragile I am.”

You giggle, standing from his lap. “As my prince commands,” you smile.

You sink slowly to your knees, your eyes boring into his own as you do. You place your hands on his thighs, and as one slips farther up, his smile grows when you push your palm into the bulge in his trousers.

You undo his belt with skilled fingers, dipping your hand into his trousers and pulling out his half-hard cock with a sigh. He is hot in your hand, aching for your mouth to wrap around him and bask in your warmth.

“May I?” you ask, fluttering your lashes.

He raises a brow like he is unamused by your teasing. “You better.”

You hum a laugh, tucking yourself close as you stick your tongue out. You lick along the underside of his cock, feeling the pulse of the thick vein running along it and disappearing under the head.

He groans, spreading his legs further apart and scooting down the chair enough to lounge. “Much better,” he hums deeply. His hand comes to settle in your hair, though he does not guide you. Yet.

You tease him with your tongue until you feel him getting antsy. As you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, his lips twitch into this sick, twisting smirk.

You close your eyes as you suck him down, wasting no time in burying the length of him down your throat, which squeezes around him as it stretches. You have done this enough times by now that your gag has suppressed into something far more manageable.

His hand tightens in your hair, and you hum at the pleasant sting in your scalp. His leg twitches as the vibrations make their way through his body, and his hips jerk lightly as they press him further into your mouth.

“That’s it, darling,” he grunts.

He holds your head still, stopping the bobbing of your head in favor of thrusting his hips up into your mouth. Tears gather at the corner of your eyes as he begins an assault on your throat, pushing his cock deep inside of it with fast, rough thrusts. It's hard not to choke a couple times with the ruthlessness of it.

“Fuck,” he curses, his voice choked up with pleasure. “There you are. Take it all, sweet thing.”

You brace your hands on his thighs, feeling your chest constricting as you begin to lose air. He still fucks your throat with no sign of an end when it becomes too much. You push off of him to gather a deep gasp of breath.

He does not let you go very long before he growls roughly, taking your head with both hands and forcing your mouth back around him. He pushes you all the way down, throwing his head back and moaning at the feeling. “You did not think you would get away so quickly, did you?” he taunts breathlessly. “I am not finished with you yet.”

You let him do as he pleases, grateful at least for the air you managed to steal. You are even more grateful when you feel him twitching on your tongue, his hands flexing as the tell-tale sign that he will not last much longer.

You suckle around him, hollowing your cheeks and feeling the heat of your cunt aching to be filled when the loud smacking sounds of his cock pushing in and out of your mouth fills the room. It is wet and sinful, and if you thought the gods cared, they would likely be offended by the way you suck him down like honey. This kind of lust is nothing if not one of the darkest of sins.

His fist tightens in your hair, and you brace yourself as you feel him forcing your head down until your lips are pressed against his pelvic bone. You suck around him as much as you can, listening to him moan as he finally reaches his peak.

“Gods be good,” he strains, spilling into your mouth. Before he is done, he pulls you off of him as your mouth falls open, your tongue hanging out of your mouth to take in deep, desperate breaths.

Aegon stares at your face with dark eyes and a clenched jaw as he pumps his cock in one hand, coaxing the rest of his release with rough groans. Ropes of thick, hot cum paint your face, staining your cheeks and nose and chin in royal, white pleasure.

Aegon falls back against his seat, panting as his hands fall from you and his cock. He watches as you close your mouth and swallow down the cum on your tongue. He smirks, mesmerized by you and your skill.

“Always such a good little thing for me, aren't you?” he breathes.

You smile, pleased by his pleasure. “I try my best, my prince,” you whisper. You wipe his cum from your face with your fingers, staring up at him as you dip those fingers into your mouth. You swear you see his cock twitching, not quite as soft as it just was as he stares at you in pure admiration.

“I suggest you go now before I have you bent over the table,” he warns, already leaning forward toward you. You hum, sitting up on your knees to meet him in one of his all-consuming kisses. He groans at the taste of his cum on your tongue.

The offer is tempting, but if you fall behind on your duties then you will have one of the head servants to deal with. So with a sigh, you pull away and stand to your feet.

You try to clean your face off as much as you can. Your hair is all but a mess. As you gather the basket full of his dirty clothes in your arms, you give him a short wink before stepping out of his chambers.

“My prince.”

You will be seeing him tonight.

Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lover-of-books-and-tea @avalyaaa @rozendiors @seabasscevans @hc-geralt-23 Tag yourself here...

[hotgeniusreid]

Have you ever tried… This position?

Aaron Hotchner x F! Reader

Mentions of: Sex, P in V (wrap it b4 you tap it), riding (SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY YEEHAW), oral (M! Receiving), not proofread we die like men

!!!NSFW/MINORSS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

One thing you had come to realize since your relationship with the BAUs Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner was that without a doubt, he was a very dominant man. He’d soften up when he’d come home from work and see Jack, but in bed? The dominance continued, not that you were complaining but you had spent many lonely nights wondering what it would be like to be on top just once, would he lose his composure? What noises would he make?

You sighed, once again losing focus on the book you were reading, letting out a groan of frustration and tossing the book on the couch, you were losing your mind over something so trivial, you loved being under him, but the thought of being the one on top had you spiraling, you had to experience it at least once and then you’d stop obsessing over it. Standing up from the couch, you had made a decision, thankfully Jack was away at his aunts house for the night, and Aaron was coming tonight from a rather difficult case, you had made up your mind, your were going to ride this man like if your life depended on it.

You had it all planned out, hopping out of the shower, you blow dried and styled your hair, and slipped on your favorite lingerie, a baby blue lace babydoll nightgown with matching lace panties, one night during a girls night with the BAU girls, you had confessed that you had a thing for buying pretty lingerie, you never really had the chance to wear them though, because Aaron always cut right to the chase, always taking you to the room and commanding you to strip with that dominant tone. You did your makeup subtly, and dolled yourself up with some jewelry, spraying his favorite perfume you own, and slipping a short silk white robe on top. Looking at the time, you realized you still had more than enough time to cook dinner and set up the table.

The sound of the door opening and keys being dropped into the bowl by the door signalled that Aaron was finally home, you slipped out of the kitchen and met him at the door, “Hi honey, how was the case?” You murmured as you wrapped your arms around him, standing on your tiptoes to press your lips to his, his arm wrapped around your back as he returned the kiss, “A bit tiring, but we managed to catch the unsub, how are you? Where’s Jack?” He asked, looking around, waiting for Jack to come out and welcome him home. “Jack is having a sleepover with Jessica tonight, said something about a movie night.” You smiled softly, “Come to the table, I just finished making dinner, it’s your favorite.” Turning around, you walked off to the kitchen, his eyes finally raked over your body, breath hitching at the fact that you were wearing the smallest silk robe that looked so nice against your body, he could feel himself growing hard, if only he knew what was under.

He walked into the kitchen, the smell of a home cooked meal making him smile, he loved you more than you could ever know, and seeing you do something so domestic such as serving him food truly made him appreciate just how much you did for him and Jack. He wrapped his arms around you as you began serving the food onto plates, “All right, what’s the big idea hm? Cooking my favorite meal, and looking so pretty, what did I do to deserve this?” You let out a giggle, throwing your head back against him, taking in the fact he was home, “nothing, just wanted to show you how much I missed you, I also happened to have a lot of free time today.” A chuckle escaped him as he shook his head, “Honey you spoil me, takeout and a movie would have been just fine, unless, there’s an ulterior motive for this?” He said, his hand stopping at the tie on your waist. Setting the plate down on the counter, you froze, had he really found you out? Turning around and looking at him with a pout, “Me? Ulterior motive? You wound me Aaron. But maybe I suppose you might be right.” You murmured sensually, turning around and pressing a kiss to his neck, he let out a low hum as he gripped your waist. “I think dinner can wait a little longer, I think I’m hungry for something else.” He said, his voice deep and wanting.

In an instant, his hands were at the tie of your robe, loosening it, a groan fought its way out of his throat at the sight of your lingerie that he was not expecting, his eyes raking down your body, he took in how well the lingerie hugged your curves, he licked his lips, “God you look so fucking pretty baby, this all for me?” You nodded your head, “Why don’t we go to the room?” You said turning around and walking to your shared room, swaying your hips, his pupils dilated, taking in the sight of your ass, he palmed his now achingly hard cock, ridding himself of his shoes and following you to the room. He closed the door behind himself and the moment the door closed he was on you, bringing your body against his, his erection pressed against your ass as you let out a mewl, you wanted to submit to him right then and there, but you remembered the task at hand.

You turned him around so that his back was facing the bed, you pressed your lips to his and walked him backward til his legs hit the end of the bed. Aaron sat down, you dropped down, knees on the floor, looking up at him through your lashes, you began to palm his hard cock through his slacks, a low rumble sounding in his throat, you smiled at him, “Aaron your so handsome.” You murmured, “Especially like this.” You breathed, unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks, bringing them down enough for his cock to spring free. Your mouth always watered at the sight of Aaron’s cock, long and girthy, the tip red and angry, with a pearl of precum adorning it, you licked a long strip from base to tip, before taking his tip in your mouth, a sigh escaping from him as he tangled his hands in your mouth. “You always look so pretty, but your so gorgeous when you have my cock in your mouth.” You moaned around his cock at his praise, taking more of him in your mouth, you bobbed your head up and down, groans and sighs escaping his mouth at the feeling of you giving him head.

You loved riling him up by sucking his cock, the weight of his cock in your mouth never failed to get you wet, the heady taste never failing to make you so needy, you took a deep breath, before swallowing his cock to the base, a moan escaped his throat as his hand tightened in your hair. You pulled off of him, a string of saliva and precum the only thing connecting you to his cock, the string snapped and you wiped it as you stood up, straddling Aaron, bringing your lips to his desperately, your tongues clashing and spit slipping from the corners of your mouths, you grinded yourself against his hard cock, a gasp escaping you at the feeling of cock pressing against your clothed pussy, “Fuck Aaron, wanna ride you so bad.” You whined, circling your hips, he let out a breathy chuckle, “Is that what this is about baby? Wanna ride my cock?” You nodded, a whimper falling from your mouth as he grabbed your ass roughly. “Yea, wanna fuck myself on your cock baby.” You pulled your panties to the side, too desperate to completely pull them off, you moaned at the feeling of your bare pussy against his cock, you bucked your hips at the feeling, your head finding a place on his shoulder.

You heard a dark chuckle before you felt a hand tangling in your hair and pulling you upright, forcing you to stare at Aaron, “If your gonna ride my cock, your gonna fucking look at me while you do it, you can be a good girl and do that right?” You nodded vigorously, whimpering at the feeling of your hair being pulled, you lifted yourself, lining his cock up with your entrance, and dropping yourself down on his cock in one movement, a gasp fought its way out of your throat, you knew Aaron was big, and usually when he’s on top he fucks you so good, but the feeling of being on top and the fullness you felt was something you could have never imagined, you threw your head back, trying to regain your composure, Aaron littered kisses against your neck, “Breathe baby, eyes on me.” He murmured, encircling his arm around your waist, you took a deep breath, and looked at him, the sight of him under you was exactly what you wanted, heavy panting and lidded eyes, you clenched around his cock at just the sight of him looking so fucking sexy. He let out a growl, his thumb digging into your side at the feeling of you clenching around him.

You pressed your forehead to his, staring into his eyes as you lifted yourself up and dropped back down, moans coming from both of you as you began bouncing on his cock, “F-Fuck you look so pretty like this, all ruined over my cock.” He was panting, his hand on the small of your back guiding you to rock your hips back and forth, the action causing friction on your clit, you clenched around him once more, a wanton mewl slipping from you, you placed your hand on his chest, pushing him back til his back was on the bed, you continued rocking your hips against him, “Mmm, Aaron feels s’good, fuck your so big.” You were a mess on top of him, you had spent so much time thinking about how it would feel to be on top, and now that you had it, it was indescribable, you were in your own little world, relishing in the feeling of how deep Aaron was, Aaron planted his feet on the bed, thrusting up into you, a scream tore from your throat, instantly losing your balance and tumbling into his chest as he continued pounding into you from below, moans and cries of ecstasy falling from your lips.

“A-Ah Aaron, gonna cum!” Tears were trickling down from the pleasure he was giving you, you met his thrusts, bouncing up and down, chasing your high, your hand on his abdomen, feeling the coil in your stomach threatening to snap, “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me hm? That’s what you wanted right? To cum while you were riding me? Go ahead baby” He murmured, holding off his release so you could let go first. A choked sob came from you when he brought his hand down to your clit, your orgasm washed over you, waves and waves of pleasure, your thighs trembled and you clenched tightly around him, the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly triggered his own orgasm, hot ropes of white cum staining your insides, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you both came down from your highs, Aaron let out a chuckle, “So this is what you got all pretty for? You wanted to ride me?” You hid your face in his neck, “It’s been on my mind since you left for the case, and it was frustrating me. Had to do something about it.” You mumbled.

He rubbed your back lovingly, “Cmon, let’s go shower and go eat dinner.” You laughed softly, “Oh now you care about dinner?” You smiled up at him, “I cared about dinner from the moment I got home, you just distracted me honey.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, he pulled out of you, you whined at the loss and grimaced at the feeling of his cum leaking out, he stood up, picking you up bridal style and taking you to shower, but to no surprise, he fucked you in the shower, saying something along the lines of ‘having to thank you for riding him’. Lying down in bed, thoroughly satisfied, you looked at him, a smile gracing his features, “I love you.” He whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, before leaning down and kissing you softly, “I love you too.” You said as you snuggled into him, basking in the post sex haze.

When Aaron went into the office the next morning looking well-rested and in a good mood, Morgan patted him on the back, “Had a good night last huh?” Morgan teased, smirk on his face, Aaron smirked back “A very good night indeed.”

[laswells-ashtray]

Soooo because I can't write this properly, so I'm entrusting you with this.

Nik hurt Price comfort.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

Nikolai knows he isn't a young man anymore.

He hears men in their twenties make internet references that go over his head, they all sound like gibberish but apparently, they're humorous to surrounding 20-something year old men.

There are specks of grey starting to appear when he lets his stubble grow out and one stubborn steel strand behind his left ear that he can't seem to hide when he tucks his hair back.

But the excruciating sharp pain that spreads throughout his knee more often than not when he gets out of bed in the morning is a slap in the face to the man he once was.

Realistically he'd always known that the work he does would catch up with him but something about taking that extra minute in the morning just so that he can move without his right knee going out from under him is humiliating.

It isn't just his age, old injuries have a way of making themselves known but it would seem that the older he gets, the longer the list of pains that ail him.

Nikolai is a grown man, he can admit that it awakens an insecurity inside of him that he thought buried. Is he still good enough for John? He had proven himself many years ago but he no longer has the same vitality and agility that he had so often taken for granted.

John is a man in his prime. When did he pass his?

There are many things that a man can ponder whilst waiting to regain the full use of his right knee and yet Nikolai always seems to fall back into that swirling pool of shame and self-doubt. He has yet to find a way out of the water without letting himself drown, choking back into awareness.

One hand rests on the edge of his nightstand, holding him steady as he keeps his weight on his left leg. It's a practised routine by now.

Curling his toes into the carpeted floor beneath him acts as a source of amusement, it is one of few actions that can offer him a distraction as he waits out the aching.

John's string of curses as he batters his pinky off of the doorway is as close to a greeting as he'll receive, he believes that the phrase Sergeant MacTavish would use to describe his partner's ordeal is Fucked It.

The captain somehow manages to overcome his anguish as he approaches Nikolai, stopping in front of him and offering his knee a look of contempt as if the joint had assaulted him personally.

When will it become an inconvenience to him? A flaw that he just can't see past.

"Still playing up?"

He offers John a reluctant nod, there's no use in denying the obvious.

"Why not sit down? It's clearly worse than usual and you're only doing yourself more harm standing, give it a bit of time as you sit down then try to walk around again later."

John's suggestion is deliberately gentle and by the look on his face, Nikolai knows that he's expecting a fight. Maybe he expects the pilot to blow up at him like he has before on one of his worst days, a memory that causes guilt to hack away at what little parts he has that remain undamaged.

Instead, he lowers himself onto the edge of their bed and pretends to miss John's obvious relief.

The other man is quick to park himself beside Nikolai only to fall back until he's sprawled on top of the duvet, fingers hooked on the edge of the mattress as he stares up at their ceiling.

"Back's fucked today. Was thinking of staying in for a bit but if neither of us are up to it then we could go for a lazy day. Bed and Bond, best way to go."

He glances down at his partner, catching the faint grimace on his face as he tries to shift his weight off of the lower left side of his back.

"Okay."

For both of their sakes, he can succumb to his desire for laziness in the name of pain relief.

"C'mere, lie down with me. Can get a catnap in if I've got a good-looking man in my bed and he'll let me use him as a pillow."

The sincerity in John's tone is almost sickening, as is the warm look as he lifts his head just to admire Nikolai. There's an undeniable honesty about the devotion that the other man dedicates to him, his very existence even in its worst state is something that John cherishes. It almost makes him feel bad for doubting them both.

So, he nudges John's shoulder and waits for the other man to settle back onto the side of the bed that he had abandoned only an hour ago before he makes the move to lie down. The pain in his knee is no longer torturous, throbbing lessened to a mere irritation.

The pilot feigns exasperation almost as well as the captain often hides it. "Flattery will gain you nothing."

In lieu of responding, John just plants his face on one of his tits and nuzzles into his chest hair.

[paingoes]

Rubies - Encounter

the thing i just said i would write >:)

set later into rubies

(Content: living weapon whumpee, whumpee-turned-caretaker?, bad caretaker, multiple whumpees, verbal abuse, conditioning, blood, past trauma, comfort)

LEVON: I wish you’d told me you were tagging along! I would have given you a heads-up. DELTA: thats okay DELTA: it doesnt really bother me DELTA: its nothing i havent seen before LEVON: Yes I’m sure. LEVON: Nevertheless I thought you would appreciate the warning. DELTA: eh

LEVON: I notice this is becoming a bit of a pet project of yours. LEVON: I would have passed more information along to you if I’d known you were interested. In fact I considered doing so in the beginning. LEVON: I was worried you would feel tokenized by it. LEVON: Also to be perfectly honest with you I would prefer that you stay out of imperial territory. DELTA: i think i actually would have felt a bit tokenized by it in the beginning tbh that was probably a good call DELTA: its different if im doing it on my own time DELTA: im sorry i hope you dont think im ignoring your orders by coming here LEVON: They weren’t formal orders. DELTA: i know but still i dont want to come off as disrespectful for it DELTA: i do value your advice i dont mean to blow you off LEVON: Delta, it’s fine. DELTA: okay cool LEVON: It’s going well, then? DELTA: yeah there was only one of them and no one was expecting her to be here clearly DELTA: im not with her right now though im with kitty we are in the server room LEVON: Okay. I’m getting word that there are a few patrollers already orbiting close by, so I’d suggest you wrap it up quick. DELTA: yeah we are finishing up now LEVON: Be careful. DELTA: yessir LEVON: Goodbye. DELTA: bye captain

Kitty looped up another loose cable, one more fire hazard. Delta slipped the phone back into the pocket of his pants. His other hand extended to her to help her up to her feet.

From below, another loud crash.

“Sounds like it’s working.” Kitty’s eyes lit up.

They walk down the bloodstained steps. Most of the place had already been cleared out by the time they arrived. The two of them are almost never at any active sight. Third wave, maybe second wave, if anything. Kitty was IT. Delta did a little bit of everything now, but was too valuable as a psychic to ever endanger with capture.

He was only the second psychic to enter the manor. The first was downstairs, doing everything she could to destroy what was around her. As they descended back to the first floor, they saw the mess she had made of things.

“Get away,” she said, “Get away. Get away.”

The silver collar glistened around her neck. The same light shone just by her eyes, reflected from the tears that were forming there.

Infantry was the one to deal with her — they were being surprisingly gentle about it.

“Easy. Easy, I know you’re scared,” a sniper of all people promised her, both hands raised in a placating surrender. “Let’s all slow down. We won’t hurt you.”

“No!” she shouted back. She was crying in earnest now. 

“We’re going to get you help, okay? But we need to go now.”

“I don’t want to go! I can’t!” 

In that exact instant, Delta noticed that her collar was broken in places. It was malfunctioning. Her powers were slipping through the cracks.

“Get away from me!” Her voice was shrill, pitched with panic. “Stay back or I’ll - I’ll-“

As she said it, a little halo of crystals was forming in a blaze right by her head. It was a crown of glass. In the space above her, the shards appeared out of thin air.

Kitty stepped forwardly slightly. It did something to him then, to hear her slip back into sweetness. The words had the same gentle tone that she’d used for him when they’d first dredged him up out of the water. When he was scared.

“It’s okay,” she promised. “You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. We want to help, okay? Just wanna help.”

“Leave me alone!” the girl yelled back. In the same instant, her right hand cut an arc through the air.

The glass flew like shrapnel. They were small pieces, but hard and razor sharp. She managed to pierce quite a few of them. But what Delta saw most precisely was the shard that flew only inches from Kitty’s face. Just barely missing her.

It was mostly adrenaline that moved him then;  his heart was beating too quickly for him to make sense of it. But in the next second, he’d zeroed in on the psychic.

The pulse knocked her back into the wall. It didn’t hurt — he knew exactly how to make it hurt and he didn’t — but it had shocked her. He caught her wrist, pinning it there. The hands were conduits. Though it was still possible to use their powers without moving an inch, the immobility gave the impression of helplessness. That’d be enough for now.

“Stop.”

She went still, but there was tension rigged in every inch of her body.

“You do not use your powers without permission.” His voice was low, more venomous than he meant it to be. “That is the first thing they teach you and there is no excuse for having forgotten it.”

She shrank away from that. They were sensitive to scolding — every single one of them.

“Sorry,” she whispered. She flexed her fingers where they were held. Little shards of glass were still raining softly from the ceiling.

“Listen to me. We are leaving. It doesn’t matter if you want to or not. You’re not going to fight them. And you’re going to do as they ask. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You do? You’re going to behave yourself? Because you can just as easily leave here in chains if you don’t.”

“Yes, sir,” she swallowed. She refused to look at him.

It was an acceptable surrender. He released her wrist, but not before wrenching it in the same direction that the others were waiting. He pointed.

“Go.”

She went obediently. One of the medics hovered their hands by her shoulder, not quite touching, but guiding her over to the exit.

There were little indentations in her skin where his claws had been.

He’d cowed her. Delta sat there for a second, alight in the afterglow of cruelty. It hadn’t felt good, but alarmingly enough, it had felt natural. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d learned from the best, after all. 

The thought made him sick.

Kitty was staring at him. A couple of them were. He knew before he even turned around. 

Sorry you had to see that, he almost said. But that seemed a bit inadequate, all things considered. He said nothing instead. Already, he felt a blush rising to his cheeks.

He moved to her, side-stepping carefully around the littered glass. Kitty still looped her arm in through his own. She didn’t hate him for it, which would have been about the worst thing he could imagine. 

“That was kinda fucked up,” she whispered to him as soon as they’d climbed onto the carrier.

“Fucked up of me?” he asked.

“Yeah, a little fucked up of you!”

Delta nodded. He’d assumed that was what she meant.

“She’ll be fine,” he exhaled. “Believe me, she’s more than used to it.”

“They really talked to you like that?” Kitty frowned.

Ungrateful. Disrespectful. Brat. Don’t you ever-

Delta bit his lip, nodding. Used to it. He traced the skin around his collar with the tips of his fingers.

“I don’t care if she hates me,” he decided. “As long as she’s out. Of all the things she has to get over, she’ll barely remember this one.”

Something about that didn’t sit right, though. 

~

Worse than cruelty was unpredictability. He worried about playing the same games that Simon had — pulling rank one second and coddling the next. It was a mean thing to do. He thought it’d be better if he just never saw her again. The ones looking out for her now could teach her in their own time. He wouldn’t further disrupt their signals.

This resolution, once he came to it, barely lasted the length of an hour.

“Can I see her?” he peeked into the quarters where they kept her.

The girl sat idly on the edge of the bed, both hands folded in her lap just the way she’d been trained to. Her hair had come undone — and now furled into spirals at the base of her neck. She’d gone dead-eyed. That was exactly how they wanted them.

She still startled when he entered. 

“Sorry,” she said without hesitation, with no conscious effort. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He used to think he was good at apologizing, after a lifetime spent groveling for forgiveness. It had been such a difficult day when he first realized that that wasn’t what anyone wanted from him anymore.

“Easy. Hey.” He raised both hands up slightly in surrender. “Not gonna hurt you. No one’s going to hurt you. You’re okay.”

The look she gave him in return suggested she did not — could not — believe him. Fair. She was less than one day out, after all. He didn’t even bother to correct her on the honorific. If she was anything like him, it would take years to undo the habit.

Her chest rose and fell without her eyes ever leaving him, like an animal backed into a corner. He moved slowly for her sake, lowering himself until he sat cross-legged on the Persian carpet.

He thought he was good at apologies once, before he knew what they were supposed to be. By now, he was good in earnest. He’d been a fast learner all his life — and pride was something he’d never been afforded.

“I’m sorry for speaking to you like that. It won’t happen again. No one here will ever speak to you like that. I only did it because we were short on time and we wanted to get you somewhere safe. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

His hands moved nervously against his sleeves. He almost stopped them, before remembering he didn’t have to. When he looked up, she was still staring unblinking. Her jaw has loosened a bit.

No one had apologized to her in a very long time. She had no script to follow for it. So when she said something completely unrelated, it came as no real surprise:

“What are you going to do with me, sir?” 

There was something like betrayal in her voice. That hurt most of all.

“You’re like me,” she realized.

For some reason, this almost embarrassed him. In Galatea, his abilities are mostly rumors. Even the ones who knew for certain still assumed he was low-level. There were only a handful who knew the full extent of it. But for the most part, psychics recognized their own. 

“I came the same way,” he said softly. “This was a rescue. You haven’t been stolen. It’s okay if you don’t believe that right now. But you’re free. Only rule is that you can’t hurt anyone while you’re here — everyone follows that one, not just you.”

“I wouldn’t-“ she said hurriedly. “I wouldn’t, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, sir. Please.”

“It’s okay. You’re not going to be punished for it,” he said. “I’m not mad at you. No one is.”

Just scared, for a second. Scared of her, just like they’d been of him. The fear is what drove people crazy, what made them decide it was right to keep them in chains all his life. She was scared out of her mind, too. But no one ever cared about that.

“You’re safe,” he promised. “I know it doesn’t feel like it. I didn’t feel like it as first either — and I know I just made you feel unsafe. But it won’t happen again. No one will ever treat you like that again.”

“…Yes, sir,” she agreed, looking down at her own shoes. 

It wasn’t sinking in all the way. He didn’t sigh, even though he wanted to. He couldn’t believe how patient Kitty and Apollo had been with him in those early days. He’d never be grateful enough. He’d never be good like them, not really. All he could do was try.

“Tell them if you need anything,” he suggested. “It’s not a trick question. They’ll get it for you if they can. And they won’t punish you for asking.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded.

Poor kid, he thought dimly. The thought surprised him. He’d never thought anything of it before, when he’d been in her position. It all just felt normal. The way he was meant to behave. It was only after years of living outside of it that he could see it for what it was.

He stood up wearily from his spot on the ground. She flinched a bit as he did, but he knew he shouldn’t take it personally.

“You can sleep too, by the way,” he reminded her. “You don’t need to ask permission.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said. There was actual relief in her voice when she answered that time. She’d been waiting to hear it.

~

The first thing he did after closing the door was go to find Kitty. She’d been curled up by the bay windows when he finally spotted her. He climbed onto the cushion next to her. She was peering at him from over the edge of her laptop screen.

“All good?” she purred.

“She’ll be fine.” He nodded. As fine as any of them could be. He really did think that his own cruelty towards her would only scrape the surface of all that she would have to recover from. But that wasn’t an excuse.

“Thank you for being kind to me,” he said softly. It sounded almost childlike now. But it was far from the first time he’d said it. “Even when I was being difficult. You were always nice.”

“You were never difficult!” Kitty gasped. “What are you talking about? You’re my favorite.”

That alone would’ve been enough to make him cry last year. Even now, he got close.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter @sir-fenris

[theclownghoul]

Gratuitous

Opinion piece & analysis

I really hate how Jinx’s suicidality is portrayed in S2, largely in Act lll but we’ll talk about all of it.

In S1 we have about three moments (by my count) that show Jinx harming herself or trying to end her life. Hitting herself in episode 3, being careless with the staples in episode 7 and pulling the pin on the bridge also in episode 7. There is also a line she says to Vi “You’re the reason I’m still alive” in episode 9 which given other things she says in that moment could be interpreted as other ideations.

What makes these moments different from S2 episode 9? Well none of the three main writers were credited to those episodes other than the dialogue in S1 episode 9. Most of them are communicated through animation only. They also just feel different, they’re vulnerable, other things are the focus and her doing these things is just a reaction to those feelings. There was something to get from the scene besides a showcase of her pain.

Episode 9 of S2 is not that. It’s gratuitous, it’s a spectacle, it’s gory and somehow losing all its impact. There’s the music which is not what I’d call tasteful or subtle. It’s making an impression, wants to force a feeling or reaction. Make you sad or horrified and oh, I was horrified but not the way they wanted.

Even the way she digs her nails into her cuticles in S2 episode 8 isn’t really meant to show us anything about her. It’s meant to affect the audience.

In comparison I almost appreciate how people have read her pulling the pin in S1 episode 7 as trying to manipulate or take Ekko out too instead of being a completely clear cut attempt. Because it at least shows that there is enough going on with the character’s mindset that we can speculate on her motivations and how she’s reacting to all the emotions that came from fighting her old friend. If you look at her face it’s sadness and regret (S1 is also better at story through facial expressions since there was forethought). You’re free to have your own reaction, not the one that’s set out for you.

I have mixed feelings about her fight with Vi now and telling Vi that she’s okay to go out by her hand. It feels closer to the moments in S1 than later in episode 9. There’s more going on, we’re meant to consider multiple layers of both her and Vi’s feelings in the moment. It’s a non explicit parallel to the Bridge and does show a pattern of behaviour. It’s also not credited to any of the main writers.

The scene from the opening of episode 9 as a whole, is it romanticization? Heard differing opinions on this and I honestly don’t know where I stand. One one hand it shows how empty she feels and how everything has come crashing down despite trying and it communicates her emotions through the images and music. On the other the scene is meant to be visually appealing while also showing her detonating the bomb very explicitly, like you see her blood. I’m sorry but this is some 13 reasons shit. None of this is helped by the fact that Isha was killed purposely to get her in this state.

I had way more emotions about the actual story in the scene with Ekko in S1 and the scene with Vi in episode 3. Originally I liked this scene but I just can’t really remember why exactly, especially when compared to the earlier ones. The other scenes aren’t lacking in any way when it comes to showing her despair so I’m lead to believe it’s a stylistic choice in line with S2’s music video focus.

Then there’s Ekko… what did he do to deserve this? I’ve said before that if he had to he would save her but the reason he had to was because this scene sounded like a good idea. Saw someone say why is it his responsibility to save her and yeah why? He’s her romantic interest? Not from her perspective at this point and that’s a terrible reason anyway. Not only are we shown her blowing herself up in detail, being inflicted with it but he also has to see that, multiple times. Please don’t make me think too long about it… then we don’t see what actually changes her mind and actually see their bond. That also doesn’t give me a lot of faith is what they think is important to show.

Then she sacrifices herself at the end to “break the cycle” which no one is actually clear on what is meant by that and the same damn song is playing. It’s weird.

I’d like to compare it to the Poison sequence from Hazbin Hotel since that scene faced backlash for romanticizing abuse specifically in that scene. If I can describe what makes Poison not exploitative and what makes Wasteland so then I can safely say they are different and there is something deeply sinister about Jinx’s scene.

Poison benefits internally, inside the context of the story from being visually appealing and pretty. That tells part of the story in and of itself and eventually it cracks, mirroring how Angel feels in the scene and in his situation.

Wasteland benefits externally, it’s done for the audience as I’ve been saying. There is nothing about Jinx’s mindset or actions that we get a better insight into from the stylistic choices. We know “she loves a spectacle” but that’s the only internal explanation that I could make. Even if they wanted the cutting of her hair and the burning on the last drop but the framing could have easily been different.

Think about the staple scene for contrast, it has no interest in being something other than what it is, brutal and disorienting, just as she is feeling in that moment. Jinx would behave that way whether there were “eyes” on her or not. Poison is the same, Angel “performs” to keep his thoughts at bay regardless of an audience. Wasteland only exists in its current form to entertain.

The final “sacrifice” also falls into this, solely focusing on eliciting a reaction from the audience and making a spectacle of sadness. There is no resolution to Jinx’s earlier conversation with Ekko, we don’t see her reflect, we don’t see a change. We have no reason to believe she’s in any way in a better place. Her decision to give her life for Vi’s isn’t particularly fleshed out and this as a conclusion to her arc is bizarre at best and offensive at worst, suggesting she had to remove herself from her loved ones lives, something she simultaneously feared and was tempted by.

I probably shouldn’t feel the need to make such a caveat but I am aware that the could be a matter of preference when it comes to how scenes like this are portrayed but the way this scene was done continues to strike me as odd. I can’t help but think it maybe intentionally or unintentionally is playing into the “sacrifice” message where, it may be a sad thing but Jinx had to die. And that’s a horrible thing to say.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Take It

Kensei Muguruma x AFAB! Reader

***This is an 18+ work of fiction, if you are not of age, be gone ***

Warnings: Smutty smut, overstimulation(I think?), squirting, breath play(maybe?), cumflation(kinda?), rough fuckin', then soft Kensei (sorta)

Word Count: 1k

Author's Note: Uh, yeah this popped into my head idk man I'm horny for this guy. You can't convince me he ain't got a massive dick. ANYWAY

Enjoy~

“Still think you can take it, sweetheart?” 

That is what you’d said, when you came to him all those months ago seeking his training. Him being your Captain, Kensei Muguruma, who’s a damn powerhouse and has knowledge you can use to your advantage. You said you could take it, his harsh regimen, and you did. Training with him has proven lucrative, your stamina and strength and sheer power have increased exponentially under his strict and intense guidance. Soon enough you were going head-to-head with him, even though you still couldn’t beat him if you tried. There’s a reason he’s a captain, after all.

All of that training, all the time spent trading blows and bruising each other’s skin. You’d never predict you’d end up in his damn bed.

“Y-yes I ca-” a sharp gasp is ripped from your lungs and your eyes roll back in your head as his weight is thrown into his thrusts, shoving your face further into the drool-soaked pillows. Fuck him for that, he did it on purpose to cut you off. But fuck if it doesn’t feel amazing. His thick, rough fingers dig so hard into your hips you can feel them bruising, but you can’t find it in you to care. He’s a rough man, it’s only fitting he fucks rough.

“Oh yeah? Wanna take it back yet?” He slows his pace, but he’s hitting so deep it doesn’t matter. Damn you can feel him in your throat. You’re still gasping, still trembling beneath his hands and still crying from the pleasure that can’t seem to fade no matter how long he pins you to the bed. It’s been hours. One arm reaches around and loops around your neck, the muscles in his arm cradling your chin as he yanks you back against his chest. The angle shift has you crying out, your legs shaking as you cum hard. He’s just so big, his body and his dick. Every movement sends shockwaves through your muscles and it’s getting real hard to think about anything beyond the pleasure and heat. Sharp teeth nip at your ear, just barely bringing your mind back. What was it he said again?

“Come on, pretty little thing. You can take a hit but can’t take dick? I guess we gotta shift our training huh?” Fuck him. First time in his bed and he’s mocking you for not being ready for it. 

“F-fuck you, Kens-” The corners of your vision turn black when he flexes the arm around your throat and shoves his hips up into you. He tuts, like he’s scolding a damned child.

“No, I’m the one fucking you, silly girl.” The bastard barely even sounds out of breath. Damn it, he won’t even let you finish one sentence or thought. You claw at his arm when he picks up his pace, trembling in his hold for the nth time tonight. He’s slamming into you with every thrust and sending spots dancing in your eyes, you aren’t sure how much more of this you can actually take. Then he reaches over with his other hand to rub tight, rough little circles over your clit and you swear you lose consciousness for a second, white blanking your vision. You can feel yourself squirt over his thighs and your entire body tenses before going completely limp in his hold. His groan is feral, shakes your bones, and he’s using your limp body to find his own end. Briefly, you wonder if this is what it feels like to die, but then you can feel him still and suddenly you feel so full. You’re manhandled into a more comfortable position, lying on your side and tucked safely into Kensei’s chest as you both labor for breath.

It feels like forever before he actually speaks again, and the softness in his voice startles you.

“Breathe, sweetheart.” Shakily, you take a breath, and a shattered sob is forced from your lungs when his large palm presses into the pouch of your stomach where his cock is still buried to the hilt. You grip that arm, albeit weakly, trembling with the effort. He’s going to kill you like this, the pleasure is going to make you pass right out and you’ll die.

“Shh sweet thing. Relax baby, I’ll be gentle.” It’s slow and agonizing, and feels too damn good, as he pulls free of your spent pussy. Your legs shake, he’s reminding you to breathe, the sensitivity between your thighs is at an all time high. You can’t be bothered about the gush of cum that leaks from you when he’s finally free, but when it’s all over all you want to do is sleep. Exhaustion tugs at your mind, and when his lips carve a gentle path down your shoulder and his fingers dig gently into your bruised hips to relieve your tense muscles, you succumb to the depths of slumber.

When you come to, you can’t help but notice that you’re clean. No sticky mess between your legs, no sweat clinging to your skin, no saliva or tears on your neck and face. Even your hair feels clean and washed. You’re still wrapped up in thick, strong arms, the heat of your Captain’s skin seeping into your body. Shivers crawl down your spine when his voice, riddled with sleep and much deeper than usual, ghosts over your shoulder.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. How are you feeling?” It’s so tender it almost shocks you. He can be caring when he wants to be, but usually he holds all the kindness of a drill sergeant even when he wants to be comforting. But now? He sounds so soft, so sweet it’s almost alarming. Big fingers trace over your hip and up over your chest to cup your chin, gently shifting your gaze to where he leans over you.

“Focus baby. I asked you a question.” His gaze is expectant, as it always is. Yeah, it’s definitely Kensei.

“I’m alright.” Your voice is croaky, rough with overuse. 

“Good.” He’s back down again, pulling you tight into his chest and breathing into your hair. 

“Did you bathe me?” He grunts out a yes, and that’s all the answer you get before he’s snoring against your head.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

69 - Young as Stained Red

Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.8k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mentions to traumatic childbirth, mentions of child deformities and illness, past character death, reference to sexual abuse, smut, oral (f receiving), face sitting, p in v, mentions of bondage

Notes: For reference, yes the scene at the start of the chapter is in reference to the as of yet unreleased chapters from the beyond the Wall saga. You are not supposed to have full context yet so dont worry about thinking youve missed something. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Each sight was as odd as the last. Your feet bare against the first of such things. A light dew sat upon the bottoms of them and across the skin around the top, as they were sunk deep within such lush and green grass. The colour matched the green of the trees all around, waving and bright as the wind tossed them about. Leaves covering each branch in a thickness that all around in the clearing was there nothing but the colour. Only above were scattered clouds, small and fluffy as they moved swift with the breeze blowing the edges of your dress with it’s path.

There was a gentle coolness about in that very breeze, something which in the otherwise warm air made your skin prickle as a shiver came over your arms. Your hair sat long and loose, blowing too with the skirt down below in the winds as your eyes squinted only slightly in the sunlight. It was so very bright in the green lush that felt unfamiliar anymore. As if outside of here, sunlight had not graced you for what felt like a long while.

Yet, you had been here before. Somewhere in your mind you knew of this place, not intimately, but as if in another life you stood here before. Looking around, one direction then the next but nothing was seen but the woods around you. In your present mind you knew not where this was or what or how you came to stand here but still you waited. As if in your bones a whispering was telling you that they will come, but who? The they being spoke of was not a name or face but you stood in waiting as if those same whispers had put you here for a reason.

It did not register in your mind at first. The rustling of grass, leaves and bushes all blending in with how they blew in the wind until in one direction did the sound grow strong. Turning in place, your eyes watching close as something shifted through the woods in a quick manner before bursting through into the clearing. Lips parting in a surprise did your foot shift a step back in apprehension until it dawned upon you what you saw.

They were small, a short stature and a small frame matched in what appeared to be a child.

Hair at the top of their head was long, a bit shaggy but mostly from what looked like much energy spent running about. It sat something which in the dark may appeared somewhat of a silver but here in the brightness of a blue sky shining with sun it looked a pure white. Looking right at your own though, were startled eyes turned narrow and suspicious. An unusual red within them that made them appear almost sickly.

But perhaps that thought came more from the darker mark splattered across the right side of his face, from his throat to cheek it was as if wine had stained him. A blotch which was in a strange shape, from here it looked nothing you could identify, but it certainly made the rest of them stand out. They were pale, much more pale then even the palest of people you’d seen before. All of them, the hair which matched their pale skin and red eyes that looked like the wine red stain across his face had bled into them and have such a strange look about him.

Who he was in this place you did not know, but he felt as if he was a boy you had seen before. And what was strangest of all, the narrow in his eyes seemed to suggest he looked to you the same. The boy took a step forward first, then another. Apprehensive and suspicious did he look at you, head tilting a small bit to the side as if posing a question he did not yet ask.

Yours was slower. A single step barley having moved at all but the moment he saw did, did the boy stop in place and take more steps back then did had forward. A hand suddenly braced out as if a silent warning not to come closer despite the dozens of feet between you both. A hefty swallow came through him trying to rid of the nerves, but you only narrowed your eyes in a mere confusion of what it was playing before you.

“I know this time I am not dreaming.”

The boy sounded as young as he looked. He must have been ten at the oldest if not younger, but there was a weight to the breathlessness of how he said the words which spoke of something more mature then a small innocent stature could suggest. But you, it felt as if you had no desire to speak, as if the ability did not exist.

Only standing there letting the breeze speak in between the silence. The boy took those same steps forward once more, but did not get any closer to you then he had previously tried. Hand no longer out and braced for a spook nor fight, but tense at his side nonetheless as he spoke again. “I kept seeing you, when I dream at night I would see you. Out here just like this, but I’m awake now..” He muttered to himself as much as he spoke it to you, putting together a mystery you had none of the pieces to.

That time your feet moved in a side step. Not making a way towards the boy, but more a long way around him to see of a different angle and view as if that would give you answers. But you did not speak, nor did you think wherever this was, were you supposed to. Tilting your head slightly, your mind drifted to what felt like another life to put together what of this unknown child felt as if you too had seen them before. But with much less information at your behest.

“You never talk in those dreams either. Can you speak?”

Here? No, no you did not think you could. Your only words in the winds blowing your hair and dress in the breeze. But it was his next question which gave you pause.

“Do you have anything to do with the three eyed crow?” Your feet stopped. Your eyes narrowed in a strict knowing as if seeking the answers from his head directly. Closing his mouth again to swallow back down the nerves of a child he again attempted to confront you with the levelness of a man he looked nothing close to. “You do, don’t you? I started seeing the crow then I started to see you.” Suddenly the boy whipped around as if looking for a bird you knew was not there.

Tilting your head towards, you stopped with only perhaps ten feet apart between yourself and the boy did your eyes find again the winestain painted across his face.

His hand rushing up to cover it almost in question of if that was what you were looking at, a nod in you spoke to answer it for him where it seemed here at least, you knew words were not part of you. Slowly lowering it, he looked to the side of nothing before trying to meet your eyes again with a bravery not matching his low tone. “My mother said I was born with it. Some of the men say it looks like a raven, but anytime I try and look at it in a mirror, it looks like a blotch to me.” Head dropping almost in something of a frustrated shame. “As if I did not stand out to everyone already.”

His paleness, the red in his eyes which on a boy made him look ill. You could imagine such an appearance did not lend itself to the cruelty of other children sometimes. Muttering more to himself that time with a fondness that he seemed to attempt to hide, only failing through the more unsubtle emotions of a young boy. “Shiera said she doesn’t think it’s weird, that it makes me more like her. But everyone says she will grow up to be beautiful because of her eyes, and she will. No one thinks that about me.”

Your eyes flickered slow to the side, a small tilt of your head as if to indicate that such a thing was not something to dwell upon no matter how little you knew. The boy spoke as if you should know things about his life, but he too said he has seen you in a dream. But if this was not a dream of your own, then where were you? What was this which put you standing here looking at the strangeness of an inquisitive young boy?

Finally he found some calm or courage, coming a bit closer. Now more of eight feet between you when he asked. “Who are you?” You did not answer, almost as if in that moment you were not quite sure what the answer was. What existed outside of this clearing of greenery you seemed to not know, it was a blur. Hidden beneath waves of water making it unclear what life was beyond this moment, and the power putting you here made it seem as if that feeling was normal. Not the panic of the unknown you wondered if you should feel otherwise. Your silence though that time, only made him more frustrated.

Closer to now six feet away from you, did his eyes narrow in an angry frustration. Raising his voice to something more aggressive as if what felt like your first actual encounter was the final straw of many for him, who remembered you more then the fog of a concept you did the boy. “What is the three eyed crow? Who are you? What do you want with me?”

You had no voice, but an attempt to open your mouth to answer what you could not to a boy you did not know was interrupted by a new sounds. A high pitched voice, a woman calling out with an affection in it. “Brynden?” The boys head whipped around quickly, turning back halfway to look at you with narrowed eyes then back again for the feminine voice to call again. “Brynden, are we playing a game?”

Wider eyes, the innocence of a boy not wishing to get into trouble shook his head in an attempt to beg not to get him into trouble as he shouted back. “I’m coming, mother.” Only he looked back at you with wide eyes, a curiosity within them as much as he was frustrated at getting no answers. “The next time I see you again, strange lady, I want answers.”

Raising an eyebrow, you felt almost bemused at how demanding the boy had turned in such an instance despite having to thus run off to this mother. Not wishing for this woman he claims was in his dreams to be seen by any but him. Further into the green he ran, did your feet somewhat follow. Gently shifting through the woods before finding a sight in the distance which could not be seen by other eyes but yours.

A tall but slender woman stood in the distance. A tender beauty in her with long brown hair loose around her, and kind eyes which did not match anything of the boy she called out to as a mother. But her warmth to him was certainly that, a playful stance of her hands on her hips asking where he had been. The boy turned to the woods, you unsure if he could see you but as if wondering to himself if he should again keep it a secret. Turning back to her he shrugged, “I was practising.” A playfulness on the womans face as she asked with an equal amusement of practising what. “Hunting. I was trying to follow a deer, see if I could sneak up on one for when I go hunting finally.”

The strange defensive inquisitiveness did not seem to come from her, a gentle smile pulling her son into her side and turning him down the path. “I have no doubt you will be a wonderful hunter one day, with eyes as keen as yours.”

Following further along did your eyes look up to the path they took. Made of a pale red and build tall and purposefully magnificent to stand out against everything surrounding it did the boy and his mother make their way up to the Red Keep of Kings Landing. In the winds blowing did a voice call your name.

Once, twice, a gentle rasp in your ear as the same winds wrapped around your upper half with a sudden soothing warmth like a sweet embrace, until your eyes opened proper to the darkness of the room around you.

Your eyes fluttering open, the warmth of Jons hands on you. One at your upper arm, resting perched by your waist as his bare chest pressed just as warm against your back. Rasping in your ear lulling you to the world as if the rest of it all melted away once more. “I know you’re tried but-”

Voice rough as your muscles still remained heavy attempting to push yourself sitting up. “The baby?”

Jon hummed a yes, his head leaning down so his curls loose brushed against the side of your face as his lips pressed a single but firm kiss to your neck. “I don’t like having to wake you up, but it’s the one thing I can’t do on my own.” A small but sleepy smile crossed your lips as your palms pressed against the bed and pushed your frame upwards.

Behind you, Jons hands shifted to help sit you up before turning you by your cheek to look over at him. He looked much more awake then you, the baby you thought, must have woken for something else earlier and ended up needing to be fed before Jon had even settled back into bed. Muttering in a quiet tone, “You don’t always have to be the one to take care of him at night. You should wake me up, tell me it’s my turn so you can sleep.”

He was gentle, nudging his nose against yours as if a stand in for kissing you when you still were barley with your eyes open from sleep. “You still are the one to feed him, we both get woken up by him as much as the other. Besides, I normally hear him before you do, with how fast asleep you are.” Your brows furrowed, and Jon must have felt it because a chuckle came deep from his chest which rumbled in yours with a nice vibration. “That wasn’t an insult, darling. I put the work in to make sure you’re fast asleep.”

That time the small smile on you was much more of an embarrassed fluster, and Jons chuckle was much more bright and free. His eyes shining as he pulled back to look at you with but a pure fondness before reaching for your clothes. The longer dress not pulled together properly at the front acting as a robe in the warmth getting pulled down your arm. Jon did most of the work himself, not bothering to give you the freedom to do it on your own as if second nature for him to do so. Pulling your arm free from the tighter hold of the shift still on you so he could at least drape the longer dress sleeve back up if you got cold.

You must have taken too long for the grumpy little bundle, as a frustrated but quiet cry begun to sound from his bed. Your eyes shined with something soft, almost a sadness wanting to apologize for taking so long, but Jon smiled again with a fondness. Pulling you by the side of your head to press a kiss to your hair he muttered, “I’ll bring him.”

Watching from the blue tint of the moonlight shining in through his window, Jons silhouette more visible then his features as he leaned down. Gently picking up his now more crying son with such a natural tenderness, holding him more upright on his chest before supporting his head with his other hand. Pulling him to rest against his chests warmth, muttering soft words of comfort as he slowly brought him over.

Sitting down enough to transfer him to your arms, your son got a little more fussy but not as loud. He simply did not cry as much as you knew some did. Some babies could cry all day and night, screaming as they echoed through the halls as if they thought crying in and of itself was what would soothe them. Little Eddard was never like that, quiet from right away that the booming sound of something like an explosion sounded outside the walls of the cave followed by yelling and a violent struggle and he made not a sound.

As if he knew from birth how important being quiet was and he never failed to ensure he did so. It never picked up here either, when he had the freedom to cry as he wished knowing that you and Jon had the ability to tend to him if he did so. Maester Wolkan had said some infants simply do not cry a lot, and it was perfectly normal no matter how odd you found it to be. Adding with a tone of a joke that most new parents would ask him the opposite, if crying as much as their newborns did was the normal thing as opposed to not.

Settling the little one against you, Jon moved you about carefully as he always did. Ingrained in his blood just how slow and gentle to act when you handled the baby, did he slink in behind you on the bed. Wrapping an arm somewhat around you with one and the other at your waist pulling you to lay back against him. The baby settled and feeding from your breast, as Jon had you settled laying against him, his hand moved from your waist up to your upper arm. Running back and forth before catching the loose stands of your hair in his fingertips to toy with.

It was always quiet at first. Both enjoying the silence, and the bonding taking place it went all manners. Feeding little Eddard yourself was a bond between you both, but it too was a time for you and Jon as well as he never made you feel he was not present with you when doing this together. Leaning the side of his head against yours, you felt him rasp in your ear a comforting low. “What was it this time?”

Never did it stop being odd. Still did sometimes you and Jon awake from the same dream together as if you shared it, but even when you dreamt and he didn’t, it was as if he sensed when it was normal or not. If the dream stood out as an odd one, even awake Jon seemed to sense it. But it was not unusual for months now, that during such strange dreams were at some point, a large white direwolf to appear with you at your side.

Your eyes narrowed, trying to put it together but it came quickly whenever it was something not of a normal dream. “The boy..I saw the boy again.” Jon muttering in question if it was the one with the white hair as you nodded. “This time..” Sighing deeply, you looked down to your son as if that would give you the answers. “He spoke to me this time.”

The hand on your arm with a hold of your hair, glided up to run his knuckles gentle along the skin of your neck watching your eyes flutter at the tingling sensation. Only a simple prompt for you to keep going. “And?”

Biting your lip, before a single shake of your head to get yourself from the mindset of the confusion in the moment. “He said he had seen me before. In his dreams.” Jons brows furrowed as yours did. “He spoke to me as if this wasn’t a dream but his actual life, and every other time he saw me was in his own dreams..”

Jons touch on your neck never ceased, keeping you present to him and not allowing your mind to drift too far away on him. “Maybe you were.” That time your face was the one to twist into confusion. “Think about it. I’ve been in yours..but you’ve never been in mine. Maybe something about it means it only goes one way.”

Unsure, you hesitated. “This didn’t feel like a dream.” Jon came about it logically, that it could have been, that some dreams do feel very real when your in them, even normal dreams. “I’m not so sure. This..it all felt normal. He spoke to me, I saw him speaking to his mother like a normal boy would, I saw where...” Trailing off your eyes narrowed as you put it together, some of the blurry images. “I saw where he lived.”

Explaining it in more detail, Jon almost seemed to pull you closer. The feeling of his chest rising and falling with a deep inhale he took, carefully approaching his next words. “So he’s seeing you, as a child, separate from the three eyed crow. Maybe the two are connected, just not in the way he thinks.” Asking carefully in what way then, Jon shook his head. “Bran might know. Might have some idea.” Again Jon sank himself into thought, speaking once more not with a judgment but something certainly what you could describe as troubled. “He gave this to you, he can’t take it away?”

Biting your tongue in thought, you shook your head but was not sure attached in tone. “Somehow there may be a way, but Bran doesn’t even understand how he gave this to me, let alone asking him to know how to take it back.”

Leaning his head down to your neck, Jon again pressed his lips there. “You thought the stranger had this power, which means now we know Euron has it.” You in honest were surprised, the first of either of you to speak of him in some time and it was Jon of all people. Since learning who he truly was, the man in your dreams, neither of you spoke much about it. You suspected Jon didn’t want too, the whole thing setting him on an edge of anger thinking about it. “You told me something he said, that the old man cut him off from it. That he thought through you he could find a way to get it back.”

Nodding, you were unsure as to where Jons thought process was going with it. Allowing him to put it together in your quiet listening.

“You also said that he thought if he killed him, that he would get his power.” Cutting him off with a gentle reminder that such a power belonged to Bran now, but Jon shushed you gently. “I know that, but he doesn’t. From what you said, it doesn’t even sound like Euron knows about Bran. He’s so focused on you, because he thinks it’s only him and you left with this power.” You weren’t sure if it was sleep addling your brain making you too slow to put the connections together or if Jon was simply far smarter then you about the matter when he said it. “We need to tell Bran about these dreams at least. They’re connected to your visions, and Bran gave them to you and he’s the only one left, he might have some answers. Or, know a way to find them.”

You only nodded. Jon didn’t need your acknowledgement out loud of it, knowing how much was rattled in your minds that the complexities of dreams and visions did not help the matter for you what so ever. Jon was sure in that, he could handle how confusing it all was for you.

It felt as if it was taking a toll on you. On your mind and everything after. Visions and dreams and sights and some of it hurt you in the real world but you never knew when or how it may, that alone for you was confusing and exhausting and he knew, was scary even if you wouldn’t admit it. Even though it was. The worst incidents of it were not exactly rare, you could name quite a few and some of which had put you in direct danger of harm, and more then once, had led to you needing to be tended to after being cut.

The more someone experienced things, the more they were supposed to get used to it. Gain control of whatever skill it was, but you seemed the opposite. The stronger it got, the less you could control any of it and now Jon knew for certain, that it was causing people to talk. It was causing people outside of his own castle, his own kingdom, to talk. He had yet to tell you any of what Allard had informed him of.

Jon wasn’t sure he wanted too, on top of it all, he didn’t need to tell you that the rest of the realm saw you as either mad or a witch. The rest of the realm was not here, in his home and halls, you were his wife and his Queen. That was all and he wouldn’t put titles and rumours atop your name when you did not deserve them. None of this was your fault nor choice, you never did anything to ask for this nor did you use it against a single person but your own well being.

But, the rest of the realm did talk. They did whisper. They understood nothing of what Jon was really up against nor did they want to listen, but they found it in them to whisper about you two as if they had any right to speak your name in such a gossiping manner. Yet the rumours were real enough to cause someone of meaning to put silver in mens pockets and send them to harm you in your own home for it.

No one would get into Winterfell like that again, he had made sure of it. As long as you were in these walls, Jon could be sure you were safe, but he couldn’t keep you here. Act as if you were to be locked away for your own safety, you deserved to be out in the world but how much danger lingered in the shadows for you, he wasn’t sure. Trapped in your home and in your mind, Jon would not do both to you.

But he certainly was not about to fall lax on protecting you from it all.

Some time had passed, Jon gently nudging the side of your head which a smile you could hear on his lips. “You look as tired as each other.” You nodded with your eyes blinking heavily, only bringing more of a smile out on him you could tell. “I’ll get him to bed, stay here.”

Little Eddard asleep once more, Jon slunk back into the bed pulling the fur much more over both of you to keep you warm. Turning you in place, but not yet curling you into him, both of you rested your heads on the pillows facing one another. Your hand reaching out to toy your fingertips against his chest mindlessly before you found a voice to whisper more. “Do you remember when you said our lives had always been this complicated?”

Jon almost let out a genuine laugh, his face handsome as he did so looking over to you. His own hand took over, reaching to run along the hair at the side of your head before cupping your cheek, letting his thumb run over the skin as he leaned in a bit closer to you in the middle of the bed. His voice gentle in your ears as the night howled outside the window and the fire crackled behind you. “It isn’t, we still love each other, you’re still my girl.”

That time it brought a breathy laugh from you, only increasing the bright smile painted across Jons face. Your hand shifted, pressing more flat against his bare chest, simply running along the skin you could find as you danced around his wounds with practices ease. The hand on your cheek slid back around to the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair before pulling you close. Jon leaned up just enough to be able to hover over you. Not quite pushing you onto your back, but keeping you enough beneath him that he controlled that you could not pull from his lips.

His kiss soft, guiding and slow as he captured you in it again and again, never giving you the room to breathe. Your hands moved across the bed to slide over his chest and shoulders, winding around the back of his neck and your fingers grasping more onto his curls. Which only spurred Jon on more. His tongue brushing against your bottom lip, almost pushing forth between the second he sensed you allow him entrance. Leaning more over your frame as you lay back, it gave Jon much more leverage over you. His tongue sliding deep into your mouth, tasting your much more shy one and entangling them before pulling back, only to kiss you more and more greedily and repeat the process.

Each breath stolen, taken from your very lungs and gifted into his mouth. He had the air in him to keep going, whereas his kiss refusing to let you leave it, had you feeling lightheaded. Hands grasping up at his shoulders, nails slightly digging into the skin. Cupping the back of your head, Jons fingers both grasped strands of your hair between them but also pushed your head more up for him, just as he shifted on the bed to lean over you. Your back now flat as his upper half was atop you, his other hand holding him more upright with his palm pressed to the sheets, his curls dancing across your skin and curtaining the kiss between you from any eyes possible.

Slowly one of your hands slid down from his shoulder, over the top half of his bare chest did you let it move up to the side of his neck. Seeking out his jaw, your hand gently as you let your thumb run over the coarse scratchiness of his facial hair. The softness of his lips, but the commanding way he kissed you down into the sheets and the roughness of his facial hair under your palm mixed in such a unique way, especially so late into the night. A whine felt it’s way worming up to the surface, a warmth emanating not just from his body heat but within your heart spread down your bloodstream and made its way between your legs. Slightly shifting them, your thighs pressed closer together without even realizing.

But it was late, Jon had already been awake for an unknown amount of time before this, you knew you couldn’t do anything about it. Wanting to just slow the kiss down so you could lay back properly so he could sleep, but were powerless against his strong hold against you moving from him.

With a bite to your lip with more aggression, you gasped as Jon let go of the hold on your hair as he recaptured you in a kiss. Now pressing you down into the bed completely, his hand free to jump right down to your hip. But still moving further, Jon grabbed at your thigh with a large hand and suddenly yanked it wider then even before. Not even allowing you a gasp, Jon kissed you again and again with an urgent passion that had that lightheadedness make you melt into him with clinging hands around his shoulders and back of his neck once more.

His hand continued his journey, up the warm feeling of your inner thighs more and more until without needing a single glance did Jons hand grab roughly at the material covering you. Only pulling from your lips suddenly as he yanked it down your legs. Your eyes fluttered open with a gasp, Jons lips parted slightly as dark eyes looked down at you before tracing down your body. Kneeling up more, the fabric still pulled tight down your legs and in his hand, Jon pressed another rough and urgent kiss quickly to your lips before moving.

Pulling the fabric off you completely, you missed seeing where he had thrown it carelessly. Because he didn’t throw it, shoved deep in a back pocket of his breeches still on before he pulled at the longer warm dress down your arms and let it fall to the side. Without much thought at all, Jon all but yanked the shift up and off you, leaving you laying before him bare. Now kneeling more above you between your legs, which he spread himself, Jon braced his hands against your knees. Looking between them at you with black eyes before tearing them up to your face. His voice low and rough trying to keep it down but not able to withhold what was very clearly a burning need right behind the surface. “Do you remember when I had my mouth on you, and you were on top of me?”

If anything, you thought the sudden fluster in your widening eyes made him even more worked up over it. You nodded gently, pushing up on your elbows to meet his gaze a bit more, but Jons eyes kept breaking contact with yours to tear down your body to your wetness and back. “Did..did you want to do that again?”

Never truly aware of it’s extent, but Jons cock throbbed behind their restraints. The manner which you asked was nervous but still innocent. The mouth watering thought of his head nowhere to go but between your legs and you still asked him with such a genuineness as if it weren’t something completely debauched. Eyes narrowing down at you, a stern ask for you to be truthful behind them. “I’d die that way if I could, I’ll always want that.” Biting down at your lip, your eyes glanced away only for the feeling of Jon turning you at your jaw and up to look back at him did he continue. His thumb trailing enough to run gently over your parted lips. “Do you want me to make you feel good?”

It had to come from you, Jon would keep you just like this if you stayed silent no matter the nerves suddenly running through you. You had gotten used to him performing such an act when you were laying in bed like this, but everything about how he wanted to do that was backwards to what you knew and understood. But too did you understand the need in his dark eyes, the way his chest heaved up and down more then he realized as his want grew more and more as he could see between your legs. You had trusted him last time, so you knew you should trust him again. You nodded, but were smart enough to breathlessly whisper a true answer along with it. “I think I’d like that..”

Jons smile wasn’t mean or greedy, but a bright genuine one for a moment. The hand on your jaw, the thumb tracing your lips moved to your cheek. “I know you don’t like it when I say this, but sometimes you’re just..cute.”

He was correct, you did not like it. Head turning away with more of a frown did Jon laugh freely. Slinking down from above, to laying at your side. Tilting your head back to look at him properly, your hands instinctively found his shoulders as he leaned to nudge his nose against yours to prompt your attention. A mumble as you tried to avoid his bright eyes. “There’s nothing about what happened that could be described as cute...”

Jon ran his nose along the bridge of yours, more then once as if a calming feeling, his other hand more gently cupping the back of your head. “All you have to do is sit there, and enjoy yourself and you still find things to worry about. You’re beautiful, and you’re breathtaking, but you’re also just cute.” More of a squirm that couldn’t escape his touch, you let him press his forehead to yours. “I’m not asking for you to do anything else.”

Again you nodded in his touch, trying to push your nerves away through to gain access of his comforting warmth you leaned forward. Pressing your lips to his gently before murmuring against them in a light tone, “I trust you.” Brows furrowing, Jon only muttered in a vague bout of nonsense for you to not do that before one again capturing your lips. Cupping both cheeks with an urgency before pulling back with the saliva between your lips snapping in the abrupt move.

Jon laid with his back down against the sheets, hauling you up to straddle his lap. Hands perched on his chest, Jon let his own touch run up and down your hips. Rasping aloud as if he didn’t even notice he was voicing his inner thoughts. “You have no idea how good you look this way.” A fluster warm in your cheeks as you turned from him, not strong enough to try and protest or say anything at the manner which he was so raw and honest, against the feeling beneath you of his cock hardening and twitching at your core. Tapping at one of your hips though, Jon took control. “Come on, up.”

You did not want to do it yourself, move into that position but at least Jons touch never left your hips. Easing you more into pretending you didn’t have to do this but he was just moving you of his own choosing. Eyes closing with a shaking exhale, you knew he was not going to give you as much leeway has he did last time. Now he knew what he wanted with his without a shadow of a doubt. Grabbing at your hips above him, Jon didn’t even make contact yet. Only a muffled warning of your name.

No order to demands, but you knew what he said. The next exhale came with a pounding of your heart, one hand reaching to grasp the wooden edge of his headboard as your muscles hook in nerves at what you were doing. Lowering yourself enough so your thighs did not end up shaking from the strain of using them to keep you upright.

Shifting just slightly to rise up to you, Jon spared you no ease into the rest of it too. His lips pressing against your clit, nearly jumping in his arms with a high pitched gasp, did he do it again. Sloppy kiss after kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves, doing so on purpose. Each press of his lips begun to follow with a small brush of his tongue. Tiny licks almost that of a cat, but against something that already had your core tightening, twisting. His mouth felt good no matter what he chose to do so with it against you, and your lips fell open silently trying to contain the pleasure already building. Tiny licks turned to motions more like flat brushes of his tongue and patterns which would change the moment he felt you tense up around him.

His rough hands smoothing small motions up and down your hips, bringing another shaking exhale from you trying to silently tell you it was alright, to relax. In and out you kept your breathing even but he did not make it easy. Returning back with greed to your clit, his tongue soaking it with each firm lick but moving it in tight motions which finally drew the first of a cry from your lips into the night air.

So he did it again, changing it each time you cried and found which ones that had you shake around him the most. Barley scraping his teeth in a cruel tease did you almost jump, his hands tight on your hips and your own nails dug into the wood. Head hanging with your eyes closed. Unable to be willing to watch him, not this way. The black curls between you, his own eyes closed as if savouring the taste you offered him.

A twisting inside your core burning more and more, his mouth soaking you as much as you felt yourself growing more wet, but Jon wouldn’t allow you to move. The embarrassed feeling inside of you of making such a mess of him, but Jons hands were tight and his tongue brushing your clit again and again spoke that he not only did not care, but he wanted more of it. Closer and closer his mouth brought you to something white hot burning at the end of the path.

His work grew sloppy, yet with meaning. Ensuring not a part of you felt he was ever willing to put less then every bit of his heart into you, taking your sensitive clit between his lips with a suck that had you cry out much louder that time. Your other hand pressed flat against the base of the headboard not even knowing where to go, fingertips pressed tense against it. Gasps torn from you, lick after lick you crawled closer as each muscle tensed but unbeknownst to you, Jon’s dark eyes flew open.

To him, you were a sight beyond beauty. Head handing down with your lips parted in gasping cries, your bare frame leaning over that way like you were on display for him alone matched with the tease of your taste against his tongue but still attached to your clit. Shifting his hands lower, Jon slowly sank more down flat against the bed, his hips ever so slowly making you follow suit without drawing attention to it.

He felt your end close but just as it would’ve graced you, did he change. Both of his hands moved from your hips to grab rough, bruising handfuls of your ass did Jon drag you to the perfect angle, forcing you down against his mouth. Your gasp muffled as your thighs were on either side of his head but he felt you shake. Powerless against his hold, your ass was perfect, making Jons cock throb at how well he could keep you a feast at his mercy the way he was holding you down this way.

Running his tongue flat against your folds, you were already soaked. Jon had a bountiful harvest bestowed before him, and as much of a perfect, heavy taste as he desired all to himself. A growl left him, vibrating against you as it travelled up to shock at your heart. Desperate cries left you without even the ability to catch your breath.

Tongue running fat and flat along everything already smeared from being so unattended. The walls inside of you were just as warm and soaked as he drank as deep as he could reach, which this way, you atop him was so much more. His mouth, lips, taste, most of his senses consumed by your cunt and his grip only grew tighter as your orgasm came back, one again trying to come closer. One swipe of his tongue and the next, up to your clit and back to drink the new wetness if drew out did suddenly as you cried his name did Jon use that same grip on your ass to keep you in place as he tore his mouth away.

“Jon..” It wasn’t a beg, even a cry. More of a sad little mutter, knowing you trusted him to give you what you needed but the pain of losing your orgasm always stung in a pain. Lips now pressing against your upper thighs, his teeth sinking to indent the skin to mark you the wolves property.

His voice was a rasping growl, deep and thick as he sounded nearly angry at you through his own need. “It’s alright.” You didn’t even know if he saw your nod, but biting down on your tongue your face twisted knowing you shouldn’t beg him for anything, you knew he was right but the pain of his teeth at your thighs and the sting of an orgasm fading away never to be realized mixed to something wishing to draw tears.

More murmured he repeated himself, that it was alright as he kissed along the indents and marks at your upper thighs, soothing his more painful work before returning to your soaking cunt. That time he gave less of a growl then a groan from deep in his chest, his own cock throbbing behind his breeches at your taste alone. It was something he couldn’t learn any words in any language to describe, as if your wetness was crafted to be made just for him. The taste everything he could ever want in any food or drink in existence. Just you he needed. Spread wide for him or sitting atop of him so there was nowhere your wetness could go but his tongue.

Brushing your walls deeply, against something sensitive only to run his tongue flat against all of you and back as if the need to too have his lips shine with you overcame him. Drawing closer again, Jon again pulled from you, his teeth and kiss now on your other thigh until you came back down. Both of your hands gripping at the headboard with tears falling down your cheeks at the pleasuring sting of being denied now what you thought felt three times.

Truth be told, if Jon didn’t want to taste you so badly he might have denied you any orgasm. Keep you suspended in this position as he slid up against the headboard only to sink your now soaking cunt deep onto his cock. But he too, needed your orgasm on his tongue. He needed the taste, he needed to drink all you gifted him. It was not even a normal mans need, not a want or obligation, but a burning obsession. A feral darkness in his chest that no man had ever had you in this way but him, you’d never know what a man tasting you felt like beyond Jon and he’d never let that change.

He couldn’t deny your orgasm, because it belonged to him. Your taste belonged to him, and Jon was going to collect on his right to it.

Tongue and lips sloppy as he drank from you, did Jon too bruise his fingertips into your ass. Your face burned at how he gripped you hard, pulling each cheek wide as if teasing you with something else only to have his tongue run from your clit down to your cunt and the burning inside you became too much. The duelling sensations had you fall from a cliff’s edge into the cavern below but Jon growled as he drank each and every drop you gifted to him.

His hands pushing and pulling at your ass with a painful grip but his tongue so warm and soft as he ran it over you and inside you again and again. Hardly even aware that you spoke, not at all aware that Jon groaned because he heard it. “I love you..”

If his eyes weren’t closed already, they’d have rolled into the back of his head. Refusing you to leave until he got everything he possibly could. The only soaking feeling left was the utterly sloppy work his mouth left trace of against you just as he wanted it. Holding you up, Jon did exactly what he wanted before. Sliding up on the bed, taking the place of where your hands were perched on the backboard until he snatched both your hands in the air.

Heaving for air, tears behind your eyes at the feeling as sweat begun to form along you Jon stared you down with his grip on your wrists tight, choosing his next path. Truthfully, he almost did it. Something dark and greedy and unsavoury passing through his head as you looked at him so weak and so venerable. But it was the middle of the night, you were deep asleep before all of this and you’d say yes because in this state there wasn’t anything Jon knew you’d say no too. It burned in his back pocket, but not yet he told himself.

Instead letting your hands free to cup your cheeks. Jon drew you close to his lips. Tongue prying them open to gift you the taste he loved, your hands wrapping around the back of his neck leaning into him as more tears left you at something still so overwhelming from him. Barley able to convince himself to leave, Jon only tore from your lips long enough to mutter against them, feeling with every husking word. “Pull me out, darling.”

Nodding, Jon groaned at how obediently you moved. Unlacing his breeches before working enough to so gently grab his cock and pull it into the open air. Throbbing and hard as could be with your small hand not at all enough to wrap all the way around it. He said no words, only grabbed at your hips again, prompting you up and over him.

The wetness he left gave no resistance, a smooth thrust inside you as deep as he could as you now sat atop his cock, but Jon grabbed your ass the moment you thought you should move, keeping you in place. You could feel yourself soaking around his stinging thickness, and Jon throbbed inside of you but he shook his head. Only nudging his nose against yours. “Lay more against me, like that. I want you to relax.”

Eyes peeking up at his, the black was still so prevalent but the grey was bright in the moonlight. Your voice an innocent whisper full of a need refusing to come to the surface beyond your desperation for him alone. “Are we going to go slow?”

Shaking his head, your brows narrowed in confusion instead. “Sleep, darling. It’s late.” Trying to interject, Jon pressed his lips to yours. A chaste kiss but long, deepening until he felt you stop trying to protest in voice. Muttering against them in between a lack of control to stop kissing you, “Lay against me like this, and close your eyes. I know you’re tried.”

“But you-”

Leaving your ass, one hand drifted to run soothingly down the hair at the back of your head. “I’m tired as well. I just wanted to be closer to you tonight.” Your eyes begun to droop, he was so comfortable, his embrace around you so safe and his rasp deep and beautiful in your ear. Trying to mumble out that you wanted to please him, but Jon chuckled soft in your ear. Turning your head just slightly enough that you could nuzzle in the space between his neck and shoulder. “What pleases me, darling, is this right here. Having you right here.”

Jon could sense you nodded back off, and his words stopped but his hand running along smoothing your hair didn’t. Until he felt your breathing even and the final knowing you were asleep against him did Jon let out a heavy exhale of his own. Head falling back against the headboard as he looked up at the ceiling as if asking for mercy.

He did this to himself, he knew you were too tired for anything else, but he fought between wanting you close and wanting to sink his cock deep inside you. At first, this seemed a suitable balance but now Jon was trapped. You were asleep but he was so deep inside your tight, soaking warm cunt and he could feel himself throbbing. His hips wanting to move and his hands ready to bounce you up and down but he had to stay put. He promised he’d let you sleep.

Closing his eyes, Jons brows furrowed. He could eventually fall asleep, but now it was a question of would he fall asleep before the inevitable or after? Would having your walls surrounding his length get to be too much now, or would he fall asleep, and at some point then, spill deep inside of you as if it was meant to be by the gods.

His other hand still at your ass thought, maybe both. He would feel the pressure to be too much before his eyes dropped to sleep, but certainly if he kept you this way the rest of the night, he’d find his orgasm pouring thick inside of you again. Or as he discovered come morning, more then once.

You still asleep in his arms, Jon would later awake, glance at you still sitting on his cock, and only gently raise you enough with a groan and rush of need within his veins. That in your sleep together like this, both of you had made a mess of the other, Jon not being the only one to orgasm in his sleep with his cock so deep inside of you for hours.

He knew you’d be self conscious about it when you finally awoke, but his hands grabbed at your waist as he felt the blood in him heat once more. Half the night he spent inside of you, and still now his eyes tore down to look over your bare frame draped over him while so peacefully asleep. The kinder thing to do, would be to pull you off his cock now, so that you weren’t so awake and sensitive to the feeling, but then he’d have to pull you off of him.

From what he could hear, it was early in the morning enough not many were awake to make noise outside and not even the baby had stirred yet. His grip grew tighter. He had time. If he woke you now, he had time. Just once. Just for now.

Slowly, he shifted so he could raise a hand up, pulling what of your hair fell over your shoulder to behind your back out of the way, thumb running along the cheek not hidden half in his neck soothing over the soft skin. Dancing up further, tickling just below your eye and down back to your cheek before now finding direction going to your lips. The feeling tingling enough that your eyes started to flutter.

Rarely did you wake up like this, something overwhelming your senses. You felt Jon still inside of you, and still hard but the room around looked bright like the sun had come up. His thumb tracing over your face, the sting between your legs of how deep he was inside of you this way, but too did you fidget a little. The trace sensation as if between your legs too was covered in his spend, some still thick and while no longer hot still a flustering degree of warm. Rising your head up, Jon assisted you with his fingers tilting you by your chin. Dark hooded eyes looking down at you as his thumb once more found your lips to toy with.

His voice a deep rasp coated in an accent heavy with sleep. “Let me take you once more, alright?” Barley awake but too did your chest feel light and your head fuzzy at him inside of you so early, did you nod. Jon sensing you were so sleepy you didn’t have a proper answer in your voice, he met your lips with his. A slow but deep kiss, his other free hand pushing you to stay attached to his kiss.

Finally your hands at his shoulders wrapped around the back of his neck, almost needing leverage as Jon had you powerless the one resting against his front but also laying more down. His tongue licking across your bottom lip, and a shameless groan left him at how easily you let him slide his tongue into your mouth. Overtaking your senses in two ways and your walls had begun to clench around his cock.

Deeper and deeper Jon kissed you, keeping you to his lips without choice as he grew more urgent, more biting, more demanding that you let him work you up to his level but it was all for not. You couldn’t be up to his level when he was already deep inside you. Tearing from your lips, he smoothed the hair at the back of your head while looking down at you with something torn of soft and needing, saliva traces still visible between your lips and his. “I can’t keep doing this.” A hiss leaving him, as Jon just barley begun moving inside of you, ever so slow and shallow did his hips move, one hand reaching down to your hip for leverage, Jon begun moving you more then he did him.

You were the half asleep one, tired and weak and pliable, and Jon was awake and worked up and a feral wolf in his blood but he almost to be cruel, didn’t move as he started moving you on top of him. Only a few inches off his cock before needing to fill you again, he started slow but already your nails dug into his skin, a cry weak caught in your throat as his length dragged against a wall so sensitive inside of you.

Still he continued to grit out, his muscles tense as he found you a slow rhythm on and off his cock. “Waking up already inside you is a mistake, it always has been.” Jons jaw clenched so hard it threatened to snap, but his eyes bled black as he traced down up and down your body before meeting your sleepy eyes with something predatory filling his own. As if he begun rasping out words he couldn’t contain even if he tried. “You’re too tired to even say anything, but you let me move you like you’re nothing. Like you were born for my cock alone.”

Barley managing to speak through how he’d push down groans with a rough growl before continuing, keeping your eyes as he moved you up and down his length at a painfully slow speed for how awake he was. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop himself from saying more. “Maybe it’s a good thing I never took you to bed that day,” Just slightly, did he begun to move you a bit faster. “If I knew this is what I was going to have to give up? Fuck, maybe do things the way the free folk do. Steal you from your bed, and take you north with me. No titles, no duties, just you and me..” A grunt left him, your own core beginning to twist as he moved you more off of him, and back down faster. “Tell me, darling, how many children would we have by now if I had?”

Your lips parted but your voice failed you, each time he moved you more and more off his cock but faster did he slam you back down, your breasts jostling with a bounce each time you knew Jon was staring at but your nails digging into his skin was your only grounding. He moved you, he bounced you on his cock, the sound of skin beginning to smack. A slap echoed in the room too how wet you were with each time he sunk you onto his length. You were so full of his seed already, your lungs ached, your eyes stung at how easy it was for him to bounce you so easily. You were already soaked around his cock and his thick seed only made it easier to keep such an unrelenting rhythm at his control.

Barley did you remember he asked you a question, so he asked again. Both hands at your hips now, Jon made the slap of your skin together even more obscene as he roughly met your hips each time he was the one who moved you back down onto his length. “Come on, tell me, how many would we have by now? If we ran away together all those years ago?”

You could barley think, not with the burning of twisting metal within your core heating your entire body even more then his own skin could do so. Breathless and crying out, you could barley meet his eyes with how roughly and how fast he begun bouncing you against his cock with no mercy. Only a guess you made unable to think of anything but how he felt inside you. “F-four? Five?”

Jons brows narrowed, looking you over in a way anyone else would’ve thought was disapproving, only his mind was that of a wolf in a darkness. Grabbing at your back, did Jon shift drastically. Never leaving your walls, did Jon send your back slamming against the bed. Laying on the furs Jon kneeled before you. Gritted teeth he grasped at your calf, pushing it to bent at your knee and stretching you out more to push it up against your chest.

A whining cry left you, when Jon too did the exact same with the other. Holding you in a stretch more then you could do just alone, but he held you there. His cock pounding deep inside of you, the sound soaking wet around his cock and the telltale smacking of skin was now embarrassingly unmistakable. He tried to speak, but a groan left him. Head hanging down his curls creating more of a curtain between you, his hands pressing your knees down to your chest almost keeping you there by the force of his strength, how deep he could thrust into you faster and faster with no resistance. “I want to try something tonight.”

Your hands dug deep into the furs beside your head as they stretched upwards for any hold of something, “O-okay-”

Jon didn’t bother letting you guess, both of you knowing you wouldn’t anyways. “I want to tie your legs up tonight.” Eyes wide and confused, he throbbed inside of you, rougher and rougher you felt that pain erupt inside you along with a pleasure that cried his name. “Each one to a bedpost, and your hands to the headboard. I want you to trust me tonight-”

Begging, you clenched around him as your orgasm drew close, so painfully close you’d agree to anything but you begged him to listen regardless. “I’ll do anything, I promise.” An ask repeating anything, and you nodded, seeking his eyes.

Now in the way, Jon shoved your legs still as stretched out but at either side of you to bruise your lips with his. Pound after pound his hips mounted yours and the moment he felt you clench tightly around did you feel his cock throb hotly inside of you. But, he had one more promise before he’d let you come that you had to make. “I’m not cleaning you up after this, I want you to walk around today with me just as much a mess as right now.” It wasn’t fair he asked you that here, because you cried pleads that you promised without so much as a thought in your head.

Kissing you deeply, Jon found his end just as you did yours. Sinking deep inside of you, as a warmth filled you. Spilling his seed with the rest of what you were coated with. His slowing down, Jons kiss slowed with it. Only as he was about to pull from your lips though, did a small cry ring out from little Eddard’s bed. Waking up, too did he realize you and Jon were also awake and made himself and his want of attention, known.

As Jons head dropped, pressing against your chest as you laughed lightly, did he groan with frustration. Voice weak but amused you jested, “Our son either has perfect timing or the worst.”

One final kiss Jon gave you before deciding, “I love him, but he has the worst.”

At first you feared you were imagining it, but some hour into this meeting were you now certain, and it had you sit there, feeling just the slightest more lonely. Pulling little Eddard closer to your chest with a frown fighting to make it’s way onto your face. Ever since word of your visions and dreams had started getting around the castle, there was no mistake that you knew Gilly was actively trying to keep herself and her son away from you.

You were trying to at least pretend you didn’t notice, but then there were the others in the room as well. Both Jon and Sam certainly noticed. Gathering around a table, Jon had insisted you sit since you had the baby and the closest one to where he stood was right by Gilly. Who had found an excuse to get up with her son, and move to a different side of the room while still passing strange glances towards you.

Someone around you who would understand some of what you had been through out there north of the Wall, and now it seemed she would rather keep away from you. Instead, your eyes drifted back to the table, briefly stopping to look down at the baby, whose wide eyes looked up with a small noise of question to your shift in demeanour.

Not wishing for him to draw attention to you, you shifted one hand so you could pull at the blanket covering him so his arms could wave free. You without hesitation moving to let him reach out and him letting both tiny hands grasp hold best he could of your fingers, a smaller noise babbled from him as if assurance that you had him. A small smile soft fell over you looking down at him, your eyes finally glancing back up to the conversation around you.

Sam in the middle of explaining whatever question it was Jon had asked, which you seemed to have missed. “I kept finding references to crows over and over again.” Pulling out the right papers, Sam spread them out for the rest to see, Jon circling more around the table to get a better look with his hand just so happening to be perched on the top edge of your own chair, his other on the other side of your seat but leaned forward pressing into the table to lean in to read.

Mumbling with narrowed eyes deep in thought, Jon shook his head in a doubt. “The free folk referred to the Nights Watch as crows for thousands of years already.”

Sam it seemed however, had an answer for that. “If I dated it right, this would’ve been written before the Long Night. Meaning there was no Nights Watch and no Wall.” Jons head shot up looking more at Sam as the later pulled another paper out. “And this one, references the Children of the Forest. It seems, crows only started appearing in the First Men’s texts after their peace treaty with them.” Jon specifying that perhaps after their warring dues ended, secrets were traded but not well documented by either in any way. Gesturing to where Bran was sat on an adjacent side of the table, Sam elaborated. “I don’t think the three eyed crow you’re talking about is new. I think it’s something that was around for a long time before you.”

Bran however shook his head. “If he had been around so long, why would he only have started looking for someone to train in his place years ago? Why now if he’s been it for so long?”

Jon glanced down to you, your own eyes flickering upwards in a question if you should answer that one. He only nodded, for you to accept his ask, turning his head back to the table nodding down to you with your name. “I think she has the answer to that.”

First asking Bran if the three eyed crow ever told you he had a name of sorts. “He said when he was a boy his mother called him Brynden.” Then asking if he had any features about him which stood out as abnormal, and too did he have an answer. “A mark, on the side of his face. Sort of like it was a stain in the shape of a-”

“Raven.” Benjen and Meera both spoke at the same time, the later allowing Meera to elaborate. “It was a red mark, it sort of looked like it was in the shape of a raven.”

Looking to Bran specifically, you knew this was more of something he alone would grasp with little explication. “When you and him begun appearing in my dreams, you thought he appeared as a red raven because of that mark.” Apprehensively, Bran nodded. “He wasn’t just in that state because of that, it was because of that mark that was once his identity. For all of his life. A mark on his face in the shape of the raven, coloured a red like blood.”

The quiet sat and you knew when Benjen, Wolkan, and Howland all put it together at the same time. Leaning forward, Lord Howland asking, “And it is a young version of him you are seeing?” Nodding once, he tilted his head in thought. “Curious. He was not the one who gifted you the Sight, but you appear to him in his dreams, in his world long before he gained it himself.”

Meera was the one who vocalized the thought for what seemed to be herself, Bran, and Jon. “I don’t understand, what do you all know that we don’t?”

“Brynden Rivers.” Heads all turned to you, as you sighed. Your eyes fluttering closed for that moment before explaining. “He was one of Aegon the Fourths bastards. He served as Master of Whispers for two Kings and was a Targaryean loyalist during the Blackfyre rebellion. When Aegon the fifth came into power, he sentenced him to the Wall for kinslaying. Eventually he became Lord Commander, and disappeared while ranging North and was never seen again all around fifty years ago.”

Jon put the dots together faster then the two teenagers did. “Lord Bloodraven.” Looking up to him, you nodded slowly at his narrowed but troubled eyes. “That’s why he kept appearing that way. Lord Bloodraven was the title some men called him. That’s who the boy in your dreams is.”

You nodded, but then the question was asked that had both yourself and Jon take pause. “Dreams?” Looking to Benjen who held an almost knowing in his eyes. “I thought you said this was the first dream you saw him in. Now it’s more then one? When did those start?” Jon and yourself glanced at one another, a nervousness in your eyes and a reassurance in his.

It was not a full answer he gave, but a good enough one. “It started when we were north of the Wall, but she hasn’t had one like this since we left. We can’t figure out on our own what any of them mean when it’s out of her control like this.” Glancing around both between Sam and Bran, Jons voice turned the edge of more serious. “The First Men left records about crows and the Children, you and Meera went to meet the tree eyed crow, who had some of the Children with him. If this all has to do with the North, and Weirwoods where does Brynden Rivers come into this, where does she?”

Meera sat there with an equal frustrated confusion. “He’s right. Everyone we’ve known so far either were the Children or blood of the First Men. Nothing about what we’ve seen has anything to do with the Andals or Valyrians. I still don’t understand one thing either.”

Sam’s comment was light hearted and in a bemused disbelief, almost enough for Jon to huff out the phantom of a sort of laugh in agreement. “One thing?”

Continuing on regardless, Meera’s brows furrowed in frustration. She had told Jon that she wasn’t there to learn as Bran did, she had been in that cave with them for nearly two years, and still she felt as confused and in the dark as the rest of them. All of them did. Nothing of what any of you learned felt like it was enough. Painted more of a picture, but that picture was just as twisted and frightening as before only now you could make out the image with more clarity. Worse of all, all of you knew that all of you were hiding things.

You and Jon knew some and weren’t saying it, Bran knew some and wasn’t saying it, Benjen knew some and wasn’t saying it. Leaving Meera, Lord Howland, and Sam to try and force information out of you all one by one, not knowing how close to the full truth they’d ever get. Regardless, she continued.

“Where does Euron Greyjoy fit into this?”

Jon though, had the answer quick, as if he had thought on it a while. His hand on the back of your chair coming down a bit to rest along your back where he could reach as if to keep you calm at his mention without saying a word. Your shoulders relaxed before you even knew they had tensed. “The Ironborn are descendants of the First Men. Whatever it is about the North that makes us all like this,” His eyes flickered to Meera and Howland for only a moment, all knowing whom they meant without words. “Means it was in Eurons blood too.”

In thought for a moment the rest of the table was, you almost felt it. A sharp piercing through your chest before a wave of lightheadedness came through you, then blood, then screams. Your own screams and the pain which came next within the walls of a cave. Just as your eyes drifted in something too far, the gentle hold of little Eddards hands grasping onto your fingers the only thing grounding you back down before you could let it fester. Looking down, a heavy swallow forced that fear back away only to give a little nod to him. Your thumb running over what of his tiny hands there was back.

Bran across the way nodded, himself deep in his own thoughts. “So I need to figure out what was different about both of them that they are connected to this somehow.”

Jon’s head dropped in something of an exhaustion in his spirit. Mumbling that everytime they found an answer it seemed as if it came with ten more questions. Sam right by him tilted his head in an amused agreement. “What can I do?”

Looking back up to him, Jon switched easily back into a mode collected entirely. “Try and see if you can find anything about the Long Night and this sort of thing. Magic, visions, three eyed crows, any of it.” If any but you noticed Jon glancing down to you specifically, they made no mention of it as he added in a lower husk. “And see if you find any correlation between the Others and the Andals.” Sam asking why, but Jon’s face only twisted in a grimace as he muttered, “Just a hunch.”

As the others begun to stand to leave, Meera pushed up from the table perched on her palms, “What about us?” Gesturing between her and her father, but it seemed to you that Jon read her actual ask, what about her. Your own eyes meeting Howlands with an understanding, a twist of your head subtly to the side as if to mention that he had his hands full as it was.

The hopeful look in her eye as she watched Jon, a need to be useful burning within them, and Jon didn’t hesitate to give her something to focus on nor did he downplay what she could help with. “If Brynden Rivers wasn’t the first three eyed crow, then that means there were others who did exactly what he and Bran did. Sam has records from both Castle Black and the Nightfort, recordings of rangers beyond the Wall, visitors and strange things that happened. Try to see if you can find anything that tells us anyone else who might have gone north for that very reason, if any of the books know enough about them, it might tell us if it’s changed now, and we might be able to figure out why.”

Nodding eagerly but with a serious expression, she glanced over to Bran before nodding towards the large pile of books. “If you don’t have anywhere to run off to right away.”

The flat expression on Brans face to a stranger easily would’ve detracted any humour but Meera was not fooled by his falsehood in the slightest. “Very funny.” Meera helping him make his way over, with Jon nodding for Sam to direct them to where to start on the matter.

Helping you stand before he found himself distracted with both Wolkan and Howland, you stood alone for a moment and your eyes glancing right back to where you had tried to avoid before. Once again, you met Gilly’s hesitant gaze before she shot it right back down to her focus on Sam. You wanted to be more of an expressive person.

Be able to walk over to her, break that silence and ask how she was doing, how her reading skills had grown and maybe find common ground to open her up to you like you were just starting to months before. But you didn’t. You let her look away, and your eyes drifted back down to the baby. A mutter quiet enough only for him to hear as you paced a bit into the further empty area of the room. “Well, at least less friends means I get to spend a lot more time with you.” The small noise was followed by the baby shifting in your arms as if to worm his way closer to your front. The smile on you soft, not bothering to cover his arms again but adjusting with one hand the warm shirt on him so it didn’t twist too far in his squirming. “You’re lucky, I’m used to not having anyone to spend time with. We just need to find an activity for the both of us that isn’t climbing around in caves.”

A warm hand wound it’s way along your back, and a rasp murmuring in your ear. “I need a minute to talk to Sam, I’ll come find you when I’m done.” Looking up to him, there was an apprehension in your eyes despite the otherwise calm look on your face. Nodding simply, Jon pulled the side of your head close to him. Pressing a kiss to your hair, his other hand rising up to swipe a thumb affectionately across his sons cheek. Arms reaching out to him instantly, forcing Jon down to his level with a smile. “Behave for your mother, she had a long night.”

A small smile came over you with a whisper, “And whose fault was that?” Jon didn’t respond, only sending you off with a withheld shine in his eyes. A glance just before the door closed behind you, he stood closely to Sam with much more of a troubled scowl on his face as they begun to speak in very low tones. Before he could glance to notice your watch, did you wander off. Not wishing for him to think you were spying, just a strange curiosity in your uncertain stomach.

For once the outside cold was just a tad kinder. A patch of sun found it’s way through the normal grey of the clouds, and much of the persons within Winterfell too made their way to enjoy it. Still kept close to your front, you knew the baby had little issue with being outside, the slighter cold almost still familiar too him from his birth into the world. You had found a small place to sit at, enjoying the calm watching the bustle of everyone around.

Some eyes found you, many with smiles and formal gestures but with luck a number seemed to recognize the image that you simply had been looking for some calm in the brief sun. In a much warmer on the ground before your feet, certainly that sight also kept some away. Nearly as soon as you left Jon, despite the guard with you, at his behest of course, did Ghost come rounding the corner at your side. Now you three sat outside enjoying the sun, as the large direwolf looked nothing but a silly boy happy in the warmer rays, then a large wild beast.

Sitting down initially, a small squeal had gotten some attention as little Eddard tried reaching out to Ghost. The direwolf happily moved right up to the baby, such a large wolf looking terrifying up against such a little thing, but only nudged him with his nose, and allowing the baby to try and grab at his fur as if to pet him the way he’d see his mother and father do. Following a lick which covered both the baby and part of your hand, you ran yours over and around his ears before he finally settled.

Almost as if the hesitancy Jon had about such public affection was negated by Ghost, he could afford to hold back in front of others because Ghost could be that physical affection for him. One in the same the two wolves always were, your own eyes glancing down wondering where your baby one would come into play of such a thing in the future. The direwolf in questions head raised suddenly though, a low growl coming from him as your head followed.

Though your calm instantly came over with a raise of one of your eyebrows. Ghost suddenly moving from where he lay, to sit upright next to you with keen eyes as the figure approached with apprehension. “It seems as if every wolf surrounding you is protective.”

If possible, your face fell even more flat. Your hand brushing over Ghosts fur to indicate it was alright, while he stayed sitting by your side the growl ceased. Looking back over to him your voice was rather dry and detached. “That is what happens when you send me to live with wolves half of my life.”

Your father glanced at Ghost only to come to the conclusion he could approach. Looking much more awkward then you did sitting there, he glanced down to the baby and then yourself. Eyes now distracted on purpose with fussing with the baby. You and Stannis could play this all day, silence until once chose to speak.

When it was only you and him in Kings Landing, supper was always that painfully quiet. You both sat at the table not speaking until the other broke, never sure what conversation beyond any sort of duty to talk over. Now was not so very different, but it seemed your father chose the more blunt route as he was so fond of. Right to a point and skipping past the pomp. “It seems there are two things you failed to inform me of.”

Fussing still with your son, the shirt on him now under the blanket was one sewn by a kind woman from Winter Town. Having come to the castle when he was introduced to the court, she had said as soon as you and Jon had returned she begun working on it. Warm sewn with two direwolves facing one another on either side of his front, and the white dots about representing snow for your surnames, the most up on a large and roomy hood for his head that you knew the baby enjoyed. Until he was old enough proper hair would grow in, he seemed to enjoy having his head covered as much as possible.

You only gave a hum to your father in response, forcing him to say what he thought and not drag you through a game of guessing to test you every time he had something on his mind. “You never told me he was here.” Asking very shortly to who, you felt a rise in frustration as his response.

“The bastard boy.”

You knew it was more clever then he appreciated, but it slipped out with the tiniest of smirks before you could stop it. “That’s a rude way to refer to my husband.” Stannis only cutting out the jesting and indicating you knew who he was referring too. Letting the silence sit before your tone dropped, still not looking at him. “What would you like me to say? Because if it is an apology you want, I’d say you owe him one far more then I owe you.”

Looking at you with narrowing eyes, it was unusual how for two people with such flat and unchanging tones of voice could begin an argument that no one could tell was anything as such. “I’m asking why hide him here?”

Finally did you tear your gaze up to your father, eyes narrowed with a flash of something unforgiving within them and a hiss keeping your voice low. “I ask you to look at your own actions and come to that conclusion on your own.” His questions following were simple, but painting a picture for himself to understand without needing you to rehash your life to him. When you met with one another to bring him here, how you learned what had occurred on Dragonstone, lastly he asked one that made you pause but not cease your glare just yet. How you knew of him in the first place.

Looking away, you could almost see the day again. The bustling activity of the street of steel, the armoury, the way in your head you could still hear Ned Starks voice in your head when Jory has asked if you two had found anything.

“King Robert’s bastard son.”

Looking back down to your son, as if to distract yourself from the remainder of such days, you asked him the next one. “You told me you had no interest in knowing Robert’s bastards, but you shouldn’t have thought that spoke only to yourself. You knew he was there, you knew I’d have wanted to know. Why keep it from me?”

His answer as calm and steady, as if practiced over and over again. “You would’ve asked questions as to why I had sought him out in the first place.” Muttering that he’d rather have kept you in the dark, he rolled right over you on such a thought without ever having to change his voice to a lecturing or even raise it somewhat. “I was the one who came to Jon about my suspicions of Cersei’s children. Something had been making itself aware to me, but I couldn’t be certain what it was I was suspicious of. It wasn’t until one night, the dinner we had all together. You had been standing by one of the balconies arguing with Joffery for some time, about what it didn’t matter. But Robert came up to me, joking that it he hadn’t known any better he’d have thought you were his daughter not mine, how much you reminded both of us of him whenever he was angry. It dawned on me then. What was going on. And I knew how dangerous it would be to investigate that information.”

In truth, that memory hardly stuck out. It wasn’t often all of the so called Baratheons got together for a family dinner, even less so as you and Joffery grew older. Much of it was spent arguing, and the more wine drank between both of you the more arguing it grew. Truth be told, it was the one thing which made you not question if Joffery was a Baratheon in those days. He at least, as repulsive and unhinged as he was, could yell at you as much as you could him.

“There were few I could trust, but Jon was one of them. His loyalty to Robert made him an ally against the Lannisters. It took me no longer then a minute to know the boy was a bastard of Roberts. And I never told you any of it, because I knew it was dangerous and I didn’t want you involved until something could be done.”

The smile on you was rather cynical, and he could see it clearly. “That worked out didn’t it.”

Sighing discreetly he explained, “I was going to do what I thought was necessary. I didn’t approve of the Lady Melisandre’s ways, I thought if he needed to be sacrificed to be done with it and not torture the boy with hope beforehand.” Asking why did he allow it, you disliked the answer greatly. “If you bring the knife out to slaughter a lamb right away, it tries to run. So you treat it carefully, so it doesn’t see it coming.”

Your mutter was very much under your breath. “Yes, trying him up and leeching blood from him after pretending to seduce him was very discreet of her.” Not giving him the chance, you laid out what your point was. “I don’t care what your feelings are about him being a bastard or Roberts. I brought him here to protect him, meaning your days of sacrificing blood of this family are finished. He’s my blood too, one of the only ones left. I promised nothing would happen to him, and now that you’re here he’s going to be quite angry about it, so I need you to not make a liar of me when I tell him that you won’t try to harm him again.”

Staring up at him, your brows narrowed at how swiftly he said it. “I agree to your terms.” Clarifying at your doubt, “This is your home, I’m your guest.”

Another sound from your son, glancing down and over to his wide eyes drifting up to your father you raised an eyebrow. Perhaps it was the promise not to hurt Gendry that gave you a moment of softness, but you asked and it surprised both of you. “Would you like to hold him?”

Standing to gently transfer the baby, it didn’t take much time in the slightest for you to casually let your hand cover your mouth. Trying to hide the smirk from slipping out, your fathers stern expression unchanging and the little one unsure of how to feel or react. But instead of the smirk, it came out in your words before you had the sense to stop it. “Have you ever held a baby before?” Oh the manner which your father shot a disapproving glare towards you, only fuelling it further. “You had two daughters, you can’t hold your grandson without making him look like he’s about to cry?”

If Stannis was aware of how he looked at any moment in time, it was standing in the courtyard of Winterfell holding his grandson with the same amount of affection you would cradling a rock.

The approaching footsteps luckily didn’t catch Jon off guard, looking down to the sight with narrowed eyes but also tinged in a curiosity did he hear the steps accompanied by a familiar voice. “Is it as strange seeing a man such as him in Winterfell to people other then me?”

Jons face twisted in thought as he turned to face him, setting aside his comment as both men reached to shake a firm hand with the other. “Ser Davos.”

The smile on the older mans face, both men turned to look at the sight, continuing with his thoughts. “It took some convincing to get him here.” But that did not bring anything of comfort to Jon. You already had a difficult relationship to your father, and he couldn’t imagine adding a son of your own to that would ease it into being better.

His face twisting more into a frown, Jons hands sat at his sides trying to clench and relax over and over to let that frustration out on something. “Why? He’s barley seen her for years, the last time he knew he had a grandson was after they were gone. Why wouldn’t he come even to see him or her?”

It was something he heard before, but it meant something different hearing it after all he knew and experienced for himself. “The King is a complicated man.” Any who looked over could likely see the scowl growing on his face. Davos’s tone lighting up, less of something so firm and leaning more towards where Jon stood on the landing to face him. “He always wanted a son, and he never had the chance to raise one. He let it strain his relationship with his daughter, and seeing her with a son doesn’t make that any easier.”

Without a single hesitation, Jons tone dropped more to a husk. An edge that struggled to hold back as he said your name. “He can’t take that out on her. Everything she went through to get here. She gave birth north of the Wall and her own father didn’t visit for weeks.”

If he could say one thing, Jon always appreciated the genuine manner which Ser Davos did not feel the need to withhold how he felt. “I’m not defending it, not to you. She may be his daughter, but she’s you’re wife, and that's your son and it took their lives being put at risk for him to come. But he is trying, he wants to make amends for what he’s done.”

Gloved hands bracing against the wooden railing, His eyes hardly on anything but you. How something struggling to find anything positive switched to a gentle laugh the moment the baby reached out to be held by you again. A laugh and smile that felt so rare and yet the baby was the thing that brought it out of you in front of everyone, Jon felt his heart lift. Lift yet tighten, everything around you always continued to crumble but in the little pack created between you was still some shred of happiness in you.

Inhaling deeply, Jons hands tensed before relaxing once more, cutting to a point he suspected Ser Davos too came to talk to him about. “Your son told me what people are saying about her in the south, things that put a target on her back.” Glancing with more of a raw honesty in his eyes. “What have you heard about the things people say about her?”

None listening he made sure of did Davos ask, “You want the truth?” Jon nodded, and Davos seemed to wince. “Some of it is about you, I should warn you.” Jon only clarified that he only cares what people were saying about you. “Word around the North seems to sound as if you’re some kind of god coming back from the death, she is some sort of witch you have at your side. Truth be told, spending years listening to the red woman talk about chosen warriors, but this is the first time I’ve ever hard your own people talk about it as if they believe it, only it’s about you.”

Uncomfortable, that’s how it made Jon feel. People looking to him in such a high regard, as if there was something about him that made him higher then them. Davos was right, he didn’t like that. He was just a man, flesh and bone like the rest of his people. “What do you mean when they say she’s a witch?” It was not lost on either man how easily from uneasy to tense he became the moment he moved the topic to you specifically.

Brows raising almost in an exaggerated manner, Davos leaned against the railing as Jon followed. “Some think the old gods brought her back specifically for you, to bring you back and protect them. Now, I will grant you that the common people are the ones who think that, but-”

“But eventually it gets out.” Both men nodded. Looking back down to you, the sight almost made his heart clench.

Ghosts head leaned close to the baby, his small arms trying to reach out as you moved little Eddard towards him with what was likely gentle words so he could pet the direwolf. That bright look had never left your face, a look he never had the grace to see in your past lives together. How death tried to take this from you, when Jon knew you so clearly were perfect to be a mother.

How you had spent any time after giving birth thinking that you weren’t good enough, when he couldn’t possibly imagine a single other woman he’d ever want to call the mother of his child. And perhaps those thoughts were what had Jon say it out loud. “I’m no different then anyone else, but her? Sometimes I’m...”

Cutting himself off, Jon knew he said too much. Opened up to something perhaps he should’ve kept to himself, but Ser Davos only nodded. With no judgment in his face nor tone. “I’m only saying what everyone else is. Daughter of a King, niece to another, and married twice to Kings in the North? Add rumours of gods and magic and witches on top of that? You may not want the rest of the realm to get in the way of fighting what really matters, but the rest of the realm certainly isn’t going to stop paying attention to her. Your men worship you, but her enemies would do anything to see someone with that kind of reputation from being anywhere near powerful men.”

That was the crux of Jons problem. He and you were meant to fight this together, but the rest of the country wanted to fight to get rid of you instead. They’ve fought each other for years and most lost, you were one of the last from the war still in true power, and a reputation the way both Seaworth’s described? His list of allies once more grew smaller everyday it felt.

Your eyes finally looked up, catching his as you gave him that soft little smile. Nodding to the inside, Jon felt that pride he needed no words to convey to you what he was asking. Meeting you in the corridors inside the castle walls, debated for a moment, eventually what people were saying about you would come to your ears, and he knew how much it would bother you.

A seductress, a witch, a manipulator who served him. None of those things you deserved to be thought of as, everything you died for and this was how the rest of the world looked at you. Jon could turn that lens on himself, but he knew he was no god. He didn’t want his men or his people worshipping him but there was a respect there, a love. What people were saying about you, was not love. Just fear, and many with fear responded with violence.

But the way you looked up to him, with green eyes matching his own baby boys, still in your arms with a gentle prompt coming close to his space without the ability to reach out. “Jon? What’s wrong?” Not yet, he thought. Keep you focused on what was in front of you, just for now. Maybe he was being too soft, even when he told himself he needed to be more strict, but there was only one way Jon wanted to ever be harsh with you and it certainly wasn’t when you looked up at him with eyes he’d fallen in love with for years, that matched the son you created together.

Shaking his head, Jon pulled you by a tender grasp a the back of your head to meet his lips. Muttering against them as he spoke. “We have a meeting tonight, but after that? I want you to myself for the night.” Your promise that you wanted that too, Jon pulled you back enough to meet your eyes but his breath could still dance across your skin. “Do you remember what I said I wanted last night?”

He could feel a shiver run through you as it was. “Is that what you want to do tonight?” Mumbling only if you felt safe doing so, but your nod made his blood run hot and his heart tighten. You didn’t even hesitate. “I always trust you.”

Good, Jon thought. Because now Jon knew the world wanted to tear you from him, and Jon needed you to trust that we would protect you from it. From one storm or the other.

He just couldn’t figure out, why the storms on either side all wanted you dead.

[batheir]

there's a novel long word vomit she could re-spill all over again and again, she furiously wants to, fighting back the terrible urge with everything in her that her petite body can muster. not even marcel proust's world record longest novel could compete with the word count of her rephrase on everything he's done to her tonight to stir up such a reaction out of her like this. "i've said everything i needed to say to you." not her fault he decided to have amnesia, when he was covering his ears up while she's yelling her lungs out prior to this blow up. "mhm." mumbled response comes to his rambling and ridiculous accusations, continuing to stride forward. absurd sounding hearing him claim things such as she 'tried to tear it all down' on purpose. he should have thought about that before he betrayed her just then.

"it feels like i'm talking to someone who isn't listening... you only hear what you want to. you ignore everything i do respond or demean it. i'm exhausted speaking, i'm exhausted with you– after everything you've done tonight and to top it off, being a backstabber. turning it on me, like you just did to your ex-girlfriend. you aren't someone i trust anymore." so much that she's keeping a check on her taser when hand dives under her seat for it when he pops into her car, causing her heart to jump and skip a few beats. "i'm not crying." despite tears sticking to her tanned cheeks, turning her face to stare at her steering wheel. burning a hole through the mustang emblem in the center. "and even if i was, i was crying before all of this." not that she needs to point it out, he remembers. he's just playing ignorant, possibly attempting to cause her more frustration, to provoke another screaming reaction out of her. "i'm going home." to rest her mind, her body, her painful puffy eyes. "i don't want to hear your manipulation tactics any longer." hand lets go of the taser under her seat, jabbing the volume button until it shoots up to eighty, drowning out the sound of his voice with radiohead. creep blasting through the stereo. starting the sports car, helena checks the road before the tires slowly move out of the space. warm mocha eyes typically iridescent in shades of optimism and bubbliness, now only enchanted by gloom as she blankly stares at the street. hollow– apparently like alex's heart.

alex catches up to helena just as she’s climbing into her car,  his breath fogging in the cold air,  anger tightening every muscle in his body,  but seeing her tear-streaked face cools his rage a little bit.   he doesn’t care about her assumptions or her misplaced righteousness,  and he genuinely doesn’t take any pleasure in hurting other people’s feelings,  but god…   why is she crying when she’s the one who started it all?   “helena,  stop!   you had plenty to say just a few minutes ago,  why won’t you talk to me now?”   his voice comes out sharp,  and he doesn’t bother softening it.   “you think you know everything,  don’t you?   you think you’ve got it all figured out,  but you don’t know me,  and you definitely don’t know what’s been happening between poppy and i.   and yet you just couldn’t wait to tear it all down.   why?”   he runs a hand through his hair,  the cold biting at his fingers.   he hesitates,  but then reaches for the door handle anyway,  slipping back into the passenger’s seat.   he hates giving up control and thinks she might kill them,  after all,  but what does he have to lose?   “what did you think you’d gain from this?   you could’ve talked to me,  asked questions,  anything before lighting that match and watching my whole relationship go up in flames.”   he shakes his head,  exhaling sharply.   “maybe i messed up,  okay?   but you don’t get to act like you’re the one holding the moral high ground.   you crossed a line.   and i’m not going to let you walk away thinking you’re justified in what you did.”   he watches her,  knowing nothing he says will change her mind.   he’s the bad guy in her story now.   “what are you crying for,  anyway?   you’ve got what you wanted.” 

[witchinatree]

making a list of my favorite quote/ones that stuck with me from each season 1 episode because i feel like it

(i'm starting this after episode 4 but it will be a WHILE before i post it)

episode 1: "bones are a lie peddled by Big Milk" - alice

i love this one because it's a great introduction to alice i think. also it radiates spiral so i hope we get avatar alice not dead alice (isnt there a podcast called alice isnt dead?)

episode 2: "If I wanted to clear the canvas, I would have used turpentine." - statement

this one was just fucking powerful and caught me so off guard like 😶

episode 3: "What would I do without her?" - statement

the norris statement <3 it feels like martin asking what he would do without jon which makes mag200 a lot sadder and i love them

episode 4: "Perhaps you shall prove a stronger will than I, and will yet find it within yourself to destroy this hungry thing of wood and cat-gut." - statement

augustus sighting #1 and we immediately get jonah magnus expressing that it may be possible for gwen bouchard unknown family member to overcome the eye's hunger spooky violin

episode 5: "Voyeur needs to be seen to be believed." - statement

i feel like this one is pretty reflective of how the seasons gonna go? like if you explain the events of tma (mag200 specifically) no one's gonna believe you, it must be seen to be believed!! and also seen!! like the eye!!!

episode 6: "Not sca- This isn’t some poxy blood test, some little pinprick, this is hundreds, thousands of razor sharp points pushing into your flesh." - needles

i love needles so much and i thought this was really funny because it was like "you dont find me scary!! what the fuck!!!" just kind of toddler michael energy

episode 7: "It’s not like we’re wrestling with tape recorders and manila folders." - celia

STOP IT. celia you can't say that you just cannot!!!!!! you Know™ too much maam i cant with you

episode 8: "Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Gerry!"

RAGHHHHH OH MY GOD GERRY!!!! i love him so much and idk how to handle him being alive in the tmagp universe!! gertrude too but idk we got so much of her in tma and not nearly enough of gerry

episode 9: "And honestly, it’s kind of compelling by this point." - sam

they got him 😔😔 the horrors got sam 😔😔 also i found this to be an interesting contrast to jon's heavy resistance in season 1 like he was being compelled but he wasn't going to let anyone know that vs sam "its kinda compelling to trauma dump on this paperwork :]" how is he somehow even more victim material

episode 10: "Gosh you’re sexy, here’s a twenty for your trouble.” - alice

does this count as a quote if shes also quoting what she thinks sam should say? idk anyway i love her i would say that to her if given the chance and it was very silly. i will not be addressing bonzo i am scared.

episode 11: "...Thank you, Alice" - gwen

dyhard dyhard dyhard dyhard dyhard. okay also, the way she CRUMBLED at the idea of anyone doing anything nice for her please someone give her a hug and let it be ME. this series is tossing me back and forth between sam & alice (what is their ship name) and dyhard but this put me back to dyhard

episode 12: "You know it's rude to have absolutely no game?" - alice

she's so fucking funny i need her to be okay so badly!!!! i don't think even tim made me laugh as much as she makes me chuckle and this one really got me. it's hard to write such a comedic character in a podcast since you only have the voice but they really nailed it i adore her

episode 13: "Is it my fault?" - gwen

each of these episodes just reveal a little bit more about how loving and soft gwen is and idk i love her so unbelievably much so seeing that she felt guilt about the bonzo stuff just made her so much more real :(

episode 14: "Christ, they’re in the walls…" - statement

theyre in the walls!!! theyre in the goddamn walls!!!!! anyway that got me because i realized the hole before the statement said it. made more sad than scared tbh

episode 15: "Babies are cool!" - alice this entire interaction between her and sam & celia was so awkward, she is so obvious and i love her anyway

episode 16: "It’s not like I was holding doors open for Mr Bonzo or anything." - gwen my wife is so so so stupid but i adore her AND this gives room for character development. i wish she did not do that though. i love when characters are flawed and have depth but i struggled to get past THIS flaw of hers

episode 17: "Thanks, I guess. Not exactly the same, though, is it?" - celia shes talking TO JON IN THE COMPUTER. SHE KNOWS. i lost my damn mind i love her i love her. get the gay people out of the puter please queen

episode 18: "Why would I need to talk to you? Your work is satisfactory. Unless you have a work-related issue I could assist you with?" - lena solidified my opinion that lena is the best boss to ever have, i adore her and i would want to work for her if she wasn't the boss of Creepy Establishment #1

episode 19: "You’re going to throw it in the fishtank, aren’t you?" - alice colin's behavior is like really worrying BUT i'm glad he's back. i was not convinced he was still alive

episode 20: "I suppose it’s too late for remorse, isn’t it? And why should I be sorry? This is what I deserve!" - ink5oul/statement they reminded me of jon a lot, like especially his season 3/4 transformation when he doesn't quite know everything but he knows he isn't who he was in season 1 anymore, i hope we see more of their life and they can be helped :(

episode 21: [Tape Recorder Bites Ink5oul] - audio description i know it's not technically a quote but this is just so fucking funny. why does it have teeth. what does this mean for the lore. holy shit.

episode 22: "Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood" - celia. knawing at the walls of my enclosure i am so not okay. i'm not okay. wtf. wtf. wtf. they're real. wtf.

episode 23: "I had a favorite mug. It said “love you, bitch” and had a picture of a drunk dog on it." - alice. okay i just love this entire interaction because gwen got to open up a little bit and my dyhard heart is so full

episode 24: "I am told that children like me, and I’ve always held the opinion that the world would be a better place if everyone just thought more." - basira. once again this whole interaction was so fun but like idk i loved hearing basira somewhat happy and in a safe place :] my wife <3

episode 25: " I am trying to help, to save us from this goddamned fucking nightmare machine!" - colin. MAN I REALLY WAS ROOTING FOR YOU!!! I WAS SO CONFIDENT YOU WEREN'T GONNA DIE!!!! it's over

episode 26: "I was worrying for a moment that you were Magnussing." - alice. MAGNUSSING BEING CANON MADE ME SAY IT EVEN MORE I'VE SAID IT LIKE TWICE ALREADY

episode 27: "You didn’t tell me the room was labelled, “Archivist.”" - celia. oooooh somebody's got TRAUMAAAAA LMAO

episode 28: "So you’re telling me you know nothing about an OIAR external contract being found with the bodies of two tattooed thugs who met rather grisly ends?" - TREVOR HERBERT???? anyway. ink5oul mention!!!!! i hope they stop killing people it's really rude

episode 29: "Alice, er… we’ve got to talk. It’s important." - teddy. i knew it was over for him but i didn't think it was gonna be THIS bad??? bye babe i guess??? 😭

episode 30: how do i even pick. the whole fucking episode. i can't. i am in a state of shock. i need to lay down for 30 years.