#which is how you get addresses that are just (number) but without the street or apartment or po box next to the number

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT SIMON GETTING HIS NIPPLES PIERCED BY YOU.

cw: fluff, comfort, little suggestive possibly, piercing, mild description of blood, possible lack of dialogues, hints of strangers to lovers, simon is a tease, may be ooc simon, bit of tension. pairing: simon ghost riley x piercer fem reader

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

the tart aroma of wood and coffee, the crackle of disposable gloves, things that routine of work in a tattoo and piercing parlor brings with itself, a designated place with large, wide, blacked out windows, located along the street, in general view, but without too much influx of visitors.

quiet and calm routine, filled with warm conversations with colleagues and people leaving and coming, someone to do something new, someone to redo something old, everyone in one way or another gathers in this small, but warm and bright place.

at least that's how it was, until a figure appeared in the parlor, casting a wide shadow in the room and causing all conversations and movements to lead to the halt.

a broad body to match the tall stature, prominent muscles tight but not completely under a black clothes and a balaclava that causes both misunderstanding and slight fear, black fabric with a skull pattern revealing only the dark beads of the eyes, which seizing the room with quick glance before going to the reception.

he looks like one of those men who come to the salon for a tattoo session, something memorable for them, the names of comrades, important names and numbers associated with the army, exactly, guys resembling him often serve in the army, but if they are usually bright and cheerful youngsters, then this one is a breath of darkness so thick, that you can't see anything behind.

— “not my business anyway, he's here likely to have a tattoo, and he's already have one„ you're comforting yourself in your head, after all, you're doing piercings, and he's obviously come to get another tattoo, maybe dilute the already existing sleeve of skulls, or something on the other arm, definitely not for you, so you keep yourself busy cleaning your workplace, ignoring the literal storm behind your back.

— “i'm here for a piercing appointment, nipples, called abou' a week ago„

and that's the tipping point when you can't ignore the elephant in the room, you jerk your head just as he turns around and shamelessly looks at you, from head to toe and back in a burning path that makes you shiver, squinting his bottomless eyes until small wrinkles form, while your colleague behind the wooden counter points at you, letting him know that you are indeed his master for today, and he came for you.

— “simon„ he introduced himself with a hoarse chuckle when you addressed him with unexpected respect, «sir» you called him, asking him to lift his shirt to expose his chest, to which he complied without further words, flexing his biceps with next movements.

simon leans back on a leather, hydraulic chair, spreading his muscular legs, as he lift his shirt, exposing the pale skin with a scattering of scars of all kinds, a picture that confirms your suspicions that he belongs to the army, but you dare not mutter, nor ask a single question, on the contrary of how you usually do, only preparing the needle and silently stand in front of him.

he doesn't twitch or hiss when the needle first pierces the sensitive buds, causing them to harden visibly, pale pink in contrast to the fair skin that lets out small drops of blood that you gently wipe as you touch the fresh piercings, and he doesn't even raise an eyebrow, but stares intently at your downcasted eyes.

the metal jewelry gleams slightly under the white light, playing against the background of his skin in a mixed way, he looks even more intimidating with them, but also adding a touch of something hot to his look, seductive, thoughts that you quickly brush away with a nervous flick of your tongue over your slightly parched lips.

— “that's, umh.. that's all, we're finished„ you let him know, trying to control the frown of your eyebrows, the strange struggle with your own emotions as he hides the fresh piercing behind the black fabric of his tight shirt and stands up, giving you a gentle nod and a seemingly unleavened squint.

he pays in front of the same counter that you can watch from your workplace, taking out the pre-rolled cash and giving it to your colleague, before leaving as unexpectedly as he came.

that's when you remember that you didn't give him your contact number.

of course, if something really happens to his piercing in the future, he can find your contact details through the number of parlor himself, but your feet carry you to the exit faster than rational thoughts, the cardboard card is tightly clenched in your hand as you unlock the heavy door, and practically slam into his back.

simon is just in time lighting the tip of his cigarette with a lighter, pursing his pale, thin lips into a line, showing the lower part of his face with a balaclava raised to his nose, turning at you with raised eyebrows, hiding the lighter in his pocket and exhaling a puff of smoke, tilting his head to the side questioningly, until you hand him an embarrassedly crumpled business card.

— “my.. my number.. if something would happen to the piercings, or if you'll have questions, you know..„

you hurriedly explain, as if making excuses, denying the strange attraction that pulls you to this stranger, and his lips part in a wide grin, showing a row of his light teeth and fangs, before he reaches out his broad hand and with a fleeting brush of his fingers against yours, takes the business card, hoarsely, amusingly adding — “of course, don'' worry, lass, i'll call you if something, eh?„

after which, he walks away, showing you his broad, gradually disappearing back, leaving you on the threshold of parlor with a strange, unsettling sensation at the bottom of your chest.

but he'll call you, for sure, maybe he'll have to take them off when he gets back to base for a mission, ask if you can check if the piercings are closed up, maybe he'll even lose the jewelry, but his legs will definitely lead him back to you, or he'll dare to do something more risky with his body, just to feel your warm hands all over his body and even between his legs.

[n3chiro]

𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝐿𝒾𝑒𝓈 • 𝒥𝒥𝒦

Synopsis: Living a peaceful life without being in a relationship was something you was sure of. That is, until your ex shows up at your door almost at the ass crack of dawn. But it doesn’t matter to you, no matter how much you try. You can’t stop running back to him, you love him, he’s your ex boyfriend after all, right?

Genre: ex boyfriend, toxic relationship, manipulating, smut, heavy agnst, college au.

Please be aware i suck at writing…

Playlist: 𝗖𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿 - 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸, 𝗣𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗸 - 𝘇𝗮𝘆𝗻, 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗕𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗧𝗼 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 - 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗲𝗲𝗸𝗲𝗻𝗱, 𝗖𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲 - 𝗡𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗝𝗼𝗻𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝘁. 𝗧𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗼, 𝗬𝗼𝘂 - 𝗔𝗿𝗶 𝗔𝗯𝗱𝘂𝗹

[word count: 2.8k]

Warnings: late night car sex, jungkook is a little shit, mature language, small humor, toxic jungkook, naive reader, jungkook is good at telling lies, love lies, smoking, chocking, small degradating, rough quick sex, jungkook is always finding ways to come back for you, jealous jungkook, love & hate, stalking, yandere jungkook, excuse any errors, unprotected sex.

Inspired by the song “into it by Chase Atlantic”

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Comfortably sitting in your living room on the sofa with a small glass of water eases your mind, you don’t know the reason of you being suddenly worried, but the unknown feeling sure did kept you up.

As you watch an unrecognizable show on the tv a sound is heard from your phone that sits across from you, with a raised eyebrow you grab your phone from the table. Checking your messages, you come across an unrecognizable message as the contact says ‘unknown’.

Unknown: I miss you.

You’re not sure if you should reply or not, maybe they have the wrong number. Mistaken you for someone else, but before you could come up with more conclusions your phone goes off again this time. Almost startling you.

Unknown: i know you see me texting you.

In an instant you tossed your phone onto the couch before heading upstairs, but a loud knock was heard at your front door. It was strange.

Because no one knew where you lived.

Halting your steps on the stairs, you stood there for a good minute to see if the knocking sound was just your imagination, but before you could shake it off the loud knocking sound was heard again. Following with the sound of a door knob rattling, as if someone was trying to break in.

Without much thinking you approached the front door, the sound of locks clicking filled your ears as you opened the door, revealing the one person you’d been avoiding for almost three months. Jeon fucking Jungkook.

“Hey-..”

“How the fuck did did you find my address?!” You were straight to the point, not even caring that Jungkook had gave you a glare.

Kissing his teeth as he eyes you up and down shamelessly, the black shorts that fitted on your body well as your curves were visible. A simple white tank top with your nipples slightly poking the material. “So that’s what I get the first time we see each other after what, three months?!”

You sigh, it was completely dark outside and the street lights were somewhat keeping the streets and the neighbors houses visible.

“What do you want?” Your voice is soft, you don’t feel like raising your voice at him when all he did was show up at your front door, looking absolutely stunning. His hair had gotten longer and somewhat curly, and the black sweatpants doesn’t add onto the feeling inside your gut.

Then your eyes fall onto his white tank top that matches the one you’re wearing, minis the small bow that decorates your tank top. Which was called a lace trim tank top.

“I wanted to see you.” He admits, biting his lips when takes a glance at your perky nipples through the tank top.

You slowly nod your head, as you look anywhere but him.

“Look i told you, I’m done with you.” You say, but the small crack in your voice says otherwise. Jungkook looks at you for moment before chuckling.

“But im not done with you.”

This catches you off guard, as you began to close the door on his face to only be stopped by a large tattooed hand hovering over your small ones.

There’s a dark look in his eyes, as many times as you’ve been with jungkook when you both were still in a relationship he’s never fully shown this side of him to you. Sometimes it would slip out when you both would sometimes argue but it was only briefly.

You’re surprised by his sudden actions, but it doesn’t lasts long when you remember that you promised your mother you’d no longer have contact with him whatsoever.

“Look,” Jungkook starts, “I just wanna talk.”

Sure he does, but when you glance at his doe eyes you can see there’s somewhat truth in them. Naively, you gave in.

“Okay, but were just talking.” You say, not even noticing the small smirk on his face.

Stepping outside of your apartment, you close the front door behind you. Following jungkook to his BMW you found yourself slightly smiling when he opens the door of the passenger side for you to get in.

Carefully seated in the passenger seat as you watch Jungkook walk around the car to the driver side and open the door, as he gets inside the car a small breeze welcomes you.

There is silence, besides jungkook rolling up a blunt and the smell of it doesn’t bother you. In fact it only eases your mind.

“What have you’ve been up to lately?” Jungkook is the first to break the silence, you could feel his gaze lingering on you. It’s a simple question really, but you found yourself not being able to reply.

You sigh while staring down at your bare thighs, it wasn’t a difficult question. You just wasn’t sure on how you’d reply, there was so many things you’d wanted to ask him yourself.

“Nothing much, exams after another. Sometimes i’d have a girls night out with my friends. I still go to work, so what’s new?”

Jungkook only nods his head before taking a puff of his blunt, letting the smoke spill from his mouth. And since the car windows were up the car was clouded with smoke, the smell of weed and whatever else he was smoking was making you feel like you were high.

“Here,” jungkook hands you the blunt with half lidded eyes.

Shaking your head in response you began to push the blunt back his way, “Jungkook I don’t—!”

“Just fucking take it.” He shoves the blunt into your hands, as you gulp down at it. Never to once have you smoked and never planned to, jungkook on the other hand was always on cloud nine here and there.

Taking a quick puff, you found yourself coughing violently as you handed the blunt back to jungkook who chuckles at your actions.

“Atta girl, that wasn’t so hard was it?” You could barley nod since you were trying to get the tabacco taste buds off your tongue, Jungkook fights the urge to grin but fails.

You were fed up, with Jungkook’s ways and how he would always find ways to find you, or how you would always crawl back to him like a kicked puppy. It was time to actually end this, for both of your sakes.

“I can’t do this with you.” You say, trying your hardest not to fall victim of his twisted mind games again.

Jungkook puts the blunt out of its misery before staring at you, he’s about to tell you a bunch of lies and manipulate you into giving in because he knows how naive you are. He won’t admit during those three months without you contacting him drove him crazy, the thought of someone else having you didn’t sit right with him.

Only he was able to have you, and if he couldn’t have you then no one could.

“You sleeping with someone?!” Jungkook lets his thoughts get the best of him, he knows the answer to that question. After all jungkook is the one who took your virginity when you both were still in a relationship.

“Why do you care? It’s none of your business Jungkook.” You found yourself frowning deeply at his conclusion.

Jungkook kissed his teeth, “It is my business, don’t just go around opening your legs for anyone that isn’t me.” You wanted scoff, tired of his harsh words slapping you in the face.

You were so deep in thought you hadn’t noticed jungkook hopping in the back seat, a deep sigh left his lips as he sat on the seat while manspreading. “Come back here with me.”

Shaking your head as you realize the reason why you left him in the first place puts you back on track, “No. our conversation is over, im heading back inside. Go home Jungkook.”

“You tryna to run back to your lil boyfriend or sum? Because why the rush?”

You sigh, “You know what, fuck you, im leaving.” As you reach the car door handle to open the car door, you find it locked.

“It’s pointless,” Jungkook shrugs, “Just come back here so we can talk, that’s all I want.”

In a swift motion Jungkook grabs your arm, causing you to halt your movements. You give him one of your best death glares possible, but it doesn’t faze him at all. In fact, it only turns him on like the horny dog he is.

It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, but you didn’t mind since you weren’t a sex addict like jungook is, when you two were in a relationship sex was always involved every two seconds. The moment you lost your virginity to him everything changed, sure, he was able to keep his dick in his pants for a certain amount of time but that was only it.

He wasn’t that entirely bad, just dealing with a little trauma from when he was a kid. He had told you about how his mother would have different men at their house when he was young, or how she would beat him if things didn’t go her way some sort.

You were there for him every step of the way, and then there’s just you. The pretty little naive and innocent girl who got good grades and didn’t really socialize with anyone.

But that all changed the moment Jungkook laid eyes upon you, it started with an innocent date. Then it turned into something more when you decided to give your body to him, your way of showing him how much you loved and cared about him.

But as time went by he started to change, not liking you with other people—not even your own mother. He completely made you loose all contact with your family, he felt as if you didn’t need them and only needed him.

And you being the naive person you were, you agreed with his actions and let him do what was best in order for both of you to be happy.

It had gotten so bad that he almost completely shut you off from the world, but thankfully for your mother doing what a mother does best, stepping in when their child is making wrong decisions, told you to lose all contact with him and move forward with your life. Do something that will actually take you somewhere other than tolerating a toxic boyfriend.

A hot one at that.

“Okay,” You gave in entirely as you crawled into the backseat with jungkook, that was all Jungkook had wanted the moment he showed up at your doorstep.

You were once again wrapped around his finger, looks like your efforts went to vain, curse jungkook for being so sexy even in his ‘I don’t give a fuck’. outfit. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach when he helped you crawl into the backseat.

Expecting to sit next to him, Jungkook pulls you by your waist as you plop down onto him. Completely Straddling his lap without much effort.

You stared at jungkook for a moment before trying to get off his lap, but he keeps you in place.

“Don’t move, just let me..” Jungkook trails off the moment he’s met with your trim lace tank top while your nipples is slightly visible through the white fabric towards his face. ��Fuck, you’ve gotten way too sexy after three whole fucking months.”

It wasn’t a lie, you have gotten sexier, your hour glass body and long hair with your smooth light skin didn’t make it any better. And by now you could feel the large bulge that forms on Jungkook black sweatpants through your thin black pajamas shorts.

You only giggle when his large hands trail up your sides and ass, his hands slowly and carefully eases it’s way up underneath your tank top. Feeling your bare breasts, though a soft moan doesn’t fail to escape your plump pink lips, Jungkook eyes darkened the moment he hears you moan.

“Jungkook,” You moan a little louder the moment he gives your breasts a little squeeze.

“You know what,” Jungkook kisses his teeth, “Fuck it.” You automatically knew what he meant by that, quickly lifting yourself up from his lap to remove your shorts including underwear all together, jungkook slightly pull down his sweatpants just a little to pull out his huge cock.

Normally Jungkook would’ve used a condom and preped you, but you both were caught in the moment and it was too good to stop now.

You’re dripping wet the moment the tip of his cock is angled towards your pussy, who would’ve thought the outcome would be like this, you in the car with your supposedly ex boyfriend who shows up at your door. Looking awfully sexy while he only asks to talk.

You should’ve known this would turn out like this, another reason why it was so goddamn hard to leave this man, no doubt about it that he was a sex god. Naturally good in bed, showed you how a real man is supposed to treat you in bed, and you were hooked the moment his tongue did wonders to your clit the first time.

You were cut out of your thoughts the moment you feel Jungkook thrusting upwards, causing you to jolt, following with a yelp.

“Don’t back out on me now, Y/N.”

It’s the first time in three months without you both seeing each other since he’s said your name, though it would be on occasions when you would catch him slipping.

With you bouncing violence on his cock, as jungkook somehow snakes his hand around your neck slightly squeezing it to gain your undivided attention. You squeal, not expecting him to do that so suddenly, But when he looks at you with those dark eyes of his it’s quickly forgotten about.

“What did i tell you?” Jungkook’s voice is deeper than usual, and it’s not because he smoked a blunt a few minutes ago.

As if you were a trained dog, you responded, “T-to look at you when you’re talking to me-!”

Jungkook chuckles, “Wrong, you look at me while I’m fucking you regardless.” You let out a cry when you feel his other free hand shot down at your sensitive clit. While you still bounce on his cock.

“Ugh, Jungkook.” You whined out, trying to hild onto something as he thrusts harder and faster, by now, if people were to walk past the car they’d probably be disturbed by the vehicle rocking back and forth violently. Or a hand print against the window while moaning and groaning are heard.

But thankfully, it was midnight.

Jungkook gives your perky nipples some attention while you sob out his name like a prayer, your tits bounce in his face, he’s occupied by them and their softness.

You grab onto his hair before tapping violently on his back, “Stop, im gonna come.”

He ignores you, which your not bothered by, but what does bother you is how he nor you decided to bring a condom, well of course not, none of you didn’t think that you’d be having sex in the back of a car—late at night.

“You see Y/N, no one can fuck you like i can.”

You could only respond with a cry, as jungkook pounds into you—while you’re still on top of him. “Go ahead, cum all over me you slut.”

And what seemed like forever you finally came undone on top of jungkook who still fucks into you, he could feel you clenching around his cock tightly which slightly prevents him from thrusting upwards. As he cums deeply inside of you, not even asking if you’re on the pill.

Both of you are fucked out, and overstimulated from the pleasure. Jungkook looks at you with a lazy smile on plastered across his face, which you mirrored.

“Fuck, i needed that.” Jungkook sighs in content, but he’s still hard and you know it won’t be enough for him.

After three months without sex, Jungook was sure he’d get blue balls. Looking at your fucked out state he admires the mess he made, how he was the one to get you to look like that.

“Round two?” You found yourself nodding, it’s to late to regret anything. You already madw your decision, to go back with Jungkook, no matter how many times he lies to you it wouldn’t matter. You’ve come to the conclusion of that’s just how he is at this point.

But secretly, you loved it when he would tell you those sweet lies. That’s just how it is at this point.

“Yeah, round two.” Jungkook then takes off your tank top revealing your bare chest.

Because after all, no matter what he does, you’ll always come crawling back to him like the good little girl you are.

Just two toxic people who were made for each other.

[jolalibrary]

no need for mistletoe

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: all of that led to this. The now. Eyes staring at him as he stands in front of you in a moss-green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, curls not buried by a hat. “Hi.” “Hi,” you reply, before he’s ushering you in.

warnings: fluff, soft!frankie, first kisses, christmas vibes, lil’ flirting. brief mention of Frankie being a dad. wordcount: 2.6k

to @nothoughtsjustmeds - merry christmas from me, to you. you gave such amazing prompts, i tried to include as many as i could, and here it is. i hope you love this as much as i heart you.

When the cab comes to a stop, you find yourself outside of a very nice house, on a very quiet street.

Dropping your gaze down to the address on your phone, swallowing. Your nerves suddenly begin doing their thing to your gut again. Working. Gnawing at your insides as you flick your gaze back up to the number on the mailbox.

That’s when you take in the little ‘Santa Stop Here’ sign stuck into the perfectly maintained grass, the faux snow footprints which lead up to the porch and the array of twinkling lights that set this one out against all the others.

And, honestly, it’s just what you imagined from his home.

Not that it stopped the nerves from swirling, doubling up inside you—apprehension having begun to mount itself on top of worry.

Taking a deep breath, you pull out some notes, paying with a smile, before stepping out with a keep the change—and a Merry Christmas—and a slam of the cab door.

It takes everything within you not to yank the door open and get back inside. Even more not to turn and look at the driver, to not show how nervous you were.

Instead, you stare ahead. Steadying yourself as tyres crunched gravel, silence washed itself over you.

And then you were alone. No way of turning back—not without a phone call and another long wait.

Glancing around, you hover your eyes over the homes on either side of the one you’re standing outside of. Noticing the differences in how they’re dressed, how subtly was more one style and perfectionism the other.

This house looked entirely different. And, even if your fingers shook as you clutched your phone, a smile still managed to cut through. Your mind concocting images of the boys all banding together to hang lights, orders being flung—reminiscent of when they’re all attempting to train Benny (all at fucking once).

Biting down on your lip, you blow out a nervous breath—because you’re here now. No point in dwelling. You just need to walk up, rap your knuckles on the door and say hello. Simple. Easy.

Yet, it takes another minute to place one foot in front of the other. Hand stuffing your phone into your pocket as you—the heels of your boots catching on the stone path, cautious not to smudge the prints that lead the way to his front door.

It had Benny who had told you the more the merrier. But would more mean you?

You who barely knew much about them. Outside the version of them you see at the gym.

The one you had inherited, been given, had handed to you—it’s what your dad would have wanted being said when the keys—all heavy and scary—were placed in your palm. No business knowledge, just given the tip to be good to the regulars—the regulars mainly being Benny, his brother and his friend.

It had begun with letting him in at odd hours. Then you’d gotten Will’s number, for when he was in town, for when he needed access to the gym to help his brother train.

Then, when their visits became more routine, that’s when you began staying later to do “admin”—code for wanting to be around just in case.

The just-in-case is the reason half your wardrobe is dumped on your bed and your nerves are frantic from the cab ride over.

Teeth nipping at your lip, you second-guess the bottle in your hand—the little paper bag of treats you’d managed to grab before the store closed. You begin to re-question your outfit, whether you were over or underdressed, whether he’d be mad that his friend just invited you—

A flurry of thoughts, all rushing around like snow in a storm. All landing, thickening at your feet, burying you deeper and deeper in doubts and worries until you’re shrouded in light.

It’s warm, almost pearlescent as it illuminates the wooden porch you’re standing on.

It was cliche, very romance-novel the way the two of you met. Him having stepped through the gym door, lit up by sunlight, hands stuffing his t-shirt into the back of his jeans. All broad, loose curls and dark features—and a shy smile that only slowly broke out across his face.

From there it was little waves. Your eyes linger on his fingers, the length, the way they appear worn, weathered—and sometimes accompanied by a band-aid, sometimes close to skin colour and others with cartoons on.

It’s a while until names are shared and exchanged. Until you can put together an idea of the man who always wears a sun-scorched hat and clothing from a colour palette you’ve named him.

Then, you learn little things. That he likes listening to vinyls, that he has a son, that he likes the idea of working out but prefers to keep fit by building things.

What kind of things? Anything. Anything? Anything.

It’s how the conversation first began when he’d offered to build you a bookcase. A small one—easily tucked away behind the counter you’re often perched at and he’s often leaning against. Pointing out that he always sees you with a book, and that you must have a pile of them at your feet.

That’s when you learned he was astute, too.

All of that led to this. The now.

Eyes staring at him as he stands in front of you in a moss-green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, curls not buried by a hat.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, before he’s ushering you in.

You hear the laughter from another room before the door is closed. Frankie hovers, taking the wine and the paper bag as you slide off your coat. His face flushed, eyes staring at you before you watch him swallow, mouth opening, but you beat him to it—

“Thank you… for not minding that Benny invited me over.”

Nodding, he smiles. “Well. I asked him to invite you.”

“Oh?”

Looking at his feet, he smiles—soft, more sly. “M’really glad you could make it.”

"Well, Merry Christmas Eve?"

Licking his lips, he seems to swallow. "Merry Christmas Eve."

There’s something intimate about photographs, especially in frames dotted around a home.

A sea of memories displayed, the stories there, but not quite heard. Not until someone is willing to share them, to animate the frame and allow it to make sense.

Your fingers trace the air close to them, lingering on unworried smiles, spotting the beginning signs of the lines you’ve come to admire.

In your wildest fantasies, you never thought you’d be here. Not as the hours ticked on, not even when the brothers bid their goodbyes, and you suggested going with them.

You don’t have to. No? No.

So you didn’t. Hovering in the living room as Frankie bids them goodbye. You hear the sounds of claps on the back, and boisterous goodbyes quickly hushed before they exchange plans for tomorrow. You’re distantly aware the door closes, and that there are approaching footsteps, but you don’t drag your eyes from the set of photos on the shelves.

“I’m sorry for… them.”

Grinning, you sip from your glass. “You don’t have to. I like them.”

Nodding, Frankie folds his arms, leaning in the doorway, your fingers still ever so close to one of the photo frames—one of five men, him in the middle, three out of the five recognised, the other two a mystery.

“Your son is adorable,” you say, glancing up at him, finding his eyes creasing as a grin adorns his face. “He has your smile.”

Letting the words wash over him, you take another sip, letting the taste coat your tongue, and smother over your bottom lip—all the while holding his gaze. The one unmoving, all unwilling to tear itself away from yours. It charges the air, and makes it vibrate. Forces the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up, and knots something in your stomach. All as heat blooms across the rest of you, up your neck, smearing itself across your chest.

Because he’s given you this stare a few times. But, never for this long.

Not this constantly, either.

It hasn’t ever made your throat feel this dry, not able to quench it even as you pour more liquid down it; it hasn’t ever quite made your ears burn, always just cheeks.

“You want to see my garden?” Narrowing your eyes, you watch him walk backwards, heading to his coat hook. “Heard you can see a lot of stars tonight.”

Smiling, you nod. Simple, fucking easily. Taking the jumper outstretched to you—fingers brushing over his, just lightly, a spark of something streaming up your wrist as his lips part.

A part of you, one full of longing and need, hopes he felt it too—wishing for it. More so, as you pull his jumper over your head, trying not to noticeably inhale as the warmth settles on your skin, and finds a home in your bones. You’re coated in him, both physically in his clothing and his scent. The one which lingers when he leaves your desk and you have always wished to bottle.

“C’mon,” he whispers, a twinge of nervousness to his tone.

So you do follow. Jacket under his arm as he grabs two bottles from the side—your hand placing your glass down, twirling the ends of his jumper around your fingers, letting him lead the way out, his foot propping open the door so you can head out first.

And he’s not wrong.

The sky is littered with them, soft twinkles thousands of miles away, looking down on the two of you as your warm breath makes spirals appear in front of you—slow wisps of steam that carry themselves to the few clouds floating past.

“You doing much tomorrow?”

You don’t know why you ask it, cringing inwardly. Because tomorrow is the twenty-fifth, and it’s obvious, even more so the more you think about it, that he’ll have his son. Likely to be somewhere for dinner from the conversation overheard.

Frankie steps closer, shoulder practically close to yours, recalling what you’d overheard, layering more information—sharing how he’ll pick his son up at lunchtime, bring him back to open presents, and then they’ll be off to Benny’s. He goes overboard, surprise, surprise.

Your laugh fills the air, somehow unsurprised until Frankie asks you what you’re doing.

“Um, well. I’m usually alone for Christmas—well, except for the other gym goers who also hate the holidays.”

Snorting, Frankie slides the jacket in his hand around your shoulders. Your eyes glance from the swings and slide to meet his gaze.

Iit’s warm when you do. All warm cocoa, digging into you, soaking you in something you’re trying to translate. Whatever it is, it makes your heart flutter in your chest, forces heat to rise up your neck again—kissing your cheeks, your ears.

“You should…” his hand rises, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighs. “Shouldn’t be alone.”

Rolling your lips, you gaze back over his garden—the small space you imagine only looks this good because of him. A small paradise, perfectly painted. Lit up by more strung lights and little lanterns plunged into different flowerbeds.

You smile at the swingset—the one made from mismatched wood. Your thoughts concoct an image of him building it, brushing his curls back from his forehead.

“You look really pretty,” he whispers.

And the words make your head turn, tentative, wary.

“Wish there was mistletoe.”

Your heart pounds and it distils the nerves. You don’t have to force it, it bleeds naturally over your lips—a smile which smudges over your face, and makes your hand place your bottle down on the ledge.

It’s quiet—oh, so quiet—as you turn to face him fully. Body turned, heart thundering in your chest, all suddenly empowered, awake, bold.

The thrum of one chance dancing with the blood in your veins.

“You don’t… you don’t need mistletoe, Frankie.”

“No?”

Shaking your head, you let out a breath.

Letting it fog the air, swirling itself out into the night as you clutch his jacket around your shoulders, watching him move.

It’s breathless the way he says okay. It’s swallowed by the soft slant of his mouth over yours. It’s instant, the way warmth spreads out through you. Made all the more powerful by accompanying fairy-light touches to your skin, allowing your body to curl into him.

Then, it deepens, your lips finding his with more purpose, more intention. His palms cup your cheeks, and like his gaze, his mouth is like fire. It rushes into your mouth, filling your chest and fanning its way out to your outer edges. It’s dizzying, magical—almost worthy of a foot rising off the ground or floating away into the clouds.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, balling it in your fingers as it turns messy, needy—all heated and desperate.

Then, you both part. Barely a slither of space between both your faces, his eyes opening, smothering you in something which makes a tangled coil of need tighten inside of you.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for a while.”

His fingers lightly skate over your cheek, thumb drawing light circles on your chin.

“You got any plans for the 27th?”

Shaking your head, you smile. “Just the gym.”

“Okay. I’m taking you out on our second date.”

Frowning, you begin to grin. “Second?”

Dropping his hand from your face, Frankie places a chaste kiss on your lips. One that makes you want to chase him for more, but the growing gap following it prevents you.

“Yeah, the first is me going inside, grabbing us a plate with some pizza on, and sitting under the stars. If… if that sounds okay?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “It sounds perfect.”

He grins, hand brushing over his chin as he takes a step back. Your hand digging for your phone, the screen illuminating, as you hear him pull open the back door of his place.

“Oh, and Frankie?” His eyes look over at you, wide, beautiful—a mixture of sudden worry and dread filling them. “Merry Christmas.”

Turning to flash him your phone, the minute just passing midnight, you smile—removing the fear in his eyes, making them widen, and grow.

He thinks. Ponders.

Can see it in the way his eyes narrow and a line appears between his brows. Then, the door in his hand meets the frame, and the soles of his boots hammer on the decking, before he closes the gap to you within four strides, your face in his hands, lips pressed to yours.

“A kiss from you is the best gift I could have ever have gotten,” he whispers, between stealing your breath.

Swallowing, you roll your lips—tasting the beer from his lips on your own. “And a date with you is all I wished for.”

an: i really want a pizza under the stars with frankie now

[madschiavelique]

hii my love! would u mind doing a little blurb on miguel finding out the woman he has been seeing is a stripper? she just feels so embarrassed to admit that and scared It would drive him away but instead he’s pretty much more open about it and become far too protective too. thank you:))

OMG ANON YOU DON'T KNOW HOW OUR BRAINS CONNECTED because listen : i have an au in mind where my spiderpersona is a succub in a strip club, and basically when Miguel is brought there by his friends, they meet

SO YEA i'm living for stripper!reader x miguel (also this was supposed to be a blurb but i got carried away fdkzefrgd - the club scene from Closer really inspired me for this)... now i want to make a multiple chapter fic on stripper!reader x miguel hELP

summary : miguel discovers you're a stripper

content warnings : NSFW, stripper!reader, reader gives a little private show to miguel (just removes the top though, doesn't reveal the cunt), fem!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 2k song mentionned : world outside - the devlins

tag list : @fandom-ash

Up until now, you had decided to keep your professional occupation to Miguel, for one simple reason: fear.

Fear filled your stomach at the thought of telling him you were a stripper. You and Miguel had been dating for some time, and had quickly become close. The bond was shaping up to be strong, and you were worried that the information about your job would ruin everything.

He'd already asked you a few times what you were doing, but you'd always managed to deflect the subject elegantly. Yet there's no stopping Miguel's determination and curiosity, least of all when the topic of conversation turns out to be you.

So he did something he wasn't particularly proud of, but couldn't resist: while you were out working, he asked Lyla where you were.

She'd given him an address, and some information about it...

"A club?" he'd asked, looking at the street information for the address. "A strip club," Lyla had corrected. "There's no mistake? Are you sure?" he'd questioned, taking a closer look at the establishment's hours and information. "Have you ever seen me calculate a lot of errors?" sighed the artificial intelligence.

Never. Hardly ever had he seen her fail in this area. Maybe you weren't really a dancer there, maybe you were a bartender, or a waitress, who knows. Only, the idea of seeing you wearing a fine outfit and swaying on a stage was strangely appealing to him.

Without missing a beat, he made his way to the address. It wasn't far, which surprised him as much as it reassured him. The very idea that your place of work wasn't far from home appealed to him, as it ensured that if you ever needed to be picked up for any reason, he'd be there.

He arrived at the entrance, breathing in, passed the bouncers who joked that with his build he could get into the business, and entered.

Blue light from two corner spotlights illuminated red velvet-covered staircases leading downwards. He moved forward, the mirrored walls reflecting him. The room's bass could already be heard from outside, but now he could hear the music more clearly.

You light up my dreams, light up my skin. You're so far away, you're holding it in.

The place was quite crowded, and Miguel noticed a fair number of men in suits and ties. He wouldn't have cared in any other context about the consumption habits of these men here, but suddenly the very idea that there were potentially regulars coming to see you displeased him enormously.

As for the place, it smelled of violets and lemongrass. The ceiling was high, revealing a second floor from which hung three chandeliers surrounded by red cubes.

Spotlights were placed here and there, illuminating the important places: the round tables, like the one next to Miguel on which two women on their knees were swaying, undressing each other under the watchful eyes of all the men around the table; the U-shaped bar, from either end of which women were dancing in wisps of sinuous white smoke; and pole-dancing pedestals on their red-lit floor that emphasized the curves of the dancers placed on them.

And he recognized one of the dancers: it was you.

It was an evening like any other, your garter belt was already generously stuffed with bills of various colors against your thigh and you'd already put on a private show. You were on the pole bar, dancing and undulating your body against it under the round, adoring eyes of your little audience.

You'd been in the business for a while now, and you'd managed to make more friends than enemies in the club, enough so that your colleagues became your buddies.

In fact, your friend right next to you softly called your name, and you turned to her as you danced.

"Did you see the one that just came in? He's huge," she pointed out, smiling at the customers around you. "And pretty good looking too."

As you continued your endless choreography, you glanced surreptitiously at the said customer. But your heart dropped into your stomach for a moment as you met Miguel's gaze.

You hesitated between freezing on the spot and running away, but instead tried to keep your cool and your professionalism and continue your dance until he arrived near the pedestal.

"This one," you pointed out to your friend, "is for me."

She gave a little laugh as you motioned for another dancer to take your place and gracefully stepped off your pedestal, advancing towards Miguel as you would a normal customer

"So this was where you were hiding?" asked Miguel a little above the music, tilting his head to the side as he looked you up and down.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, as inquisitive as you were nervous.

"Curiosity got the better of me, and I was right to give in to temptation."

He was watching your outfit, which emphasized your body, your curves highlighted by the glitter and rhinestones mixed with the laces. You were close to him, almost to the point where a simple movement on Miguel's part would allow your two bodies to meet.

"But I'd prefer to discuss this somewhere else...?" he says.

"I'm in the middle of working hours, but... how about a private show?" you offered, drawing even closer to him as your eyes seemed to him irresistible through your lashes.

He shuddered.

"I'd like that."

You smiled softly, taking his hand to guide him towards one of the Paradise Suites. You guided him a little further until you came to a door you knew well and opened it to let him in.

A round sofa circled a round table at its center, the latter illuminated in pink. A strip of light circled the sofa, another path laid out to encourage strippers to be creative and use the room as they saw fit. You weren't expecting to give Miguel a private show tonight, but fate had played a nice trick on you.

You guided him to the sofa, letting him settle there as you climbed up on the table, looking at him with eyes that were usually calculated to convey desire, but this time really felt it.

And he looked at you with, his were dark, pools of ink attentive to your every move.

"How long have you been doing this?" he'd ask, his attention unwavering.

"Five months," you toyed lightly with one of your shoulder straps as you let your other hand roam your body.

He was going to be able to ask you all the questions that came to mind, only if he didn't get too distracted by your beauty.

"Are you allowed to flirt?" he asked.

"Yes, I am." you replied, letting your hand slide down your chest.

"Do you have any regulars?" he leaned forward, his head tilted back to watch you dance.

"Yes, I do. Private clients as well." you turned, your back to him to loosen your corset behind your waist, undulating your body.

The idea that you had regular clients here wasn't disturbing, but the fact that you had private ones displeased him a little more, for the fact that your security was much less framed than it was here.

"I want names."

You let out a small laugh as you turned to face him again.

"You want to make me lose my job?" you knelt on the round table to get to his level.

"No, I want to replace them." he said, his eyes moving from yours to your fingers removing the first strap.

"I'm not allowed to have relationships outside of the club with clients," you countered, tracing the skin of your bare thigh sensually.

"And what do you usually do?" his chest puffed out as he inhaled, feeling a little hotter little by little.

"I dance, I talk, I laugh, I strip, and that is all." you confirmed as you removed the second strap, and with a simple movement unhooked the little clip between your breasts to reveal them.

His eyes were eager, watching your perfect breasts as he parted his lips, mouth agape.

"No touching?" he questioned, eyes still on your body.

"No touching, you can just slide the tips in the garter belt" you advised, your hand sliding against the latter where a few bills were lodged.

"What would happen if I touched you now?" he asked, moving a little closer to the edge of the sofa.

"I would like it," you said, shifting your legs over the front to stand up again on the table gently, "but the security cameras would notice, and probably get you out of here."

Miguel looked up, just above the table, on the ceiling, was a small half globe with a small point of red light.

"Pays well?

"Very well." you smiled, your hands playing dangerously with the string of your thong.

"How much will it cost me to be here with you?"

Miguel wasn't afraid of going broke here, especially for you, he was plenty rich enough for that.

"Depends on what you want." thinking that maybe Miguel didn't want to make you work right now, you got off the table and climbed onto the sofa and then its edge instead, sitting there.

"How high are the prices? I haven't seen the menu of services."

"Our VIP options can go up to 1500 dollars." you say wearily, pretending to walk your index and middle fingers in his direction on the strip of light.

"1500?" he almost exclaimed, raising his eyebrows.

"Mhm," you hummed, "two hours with two dancers and a bottle of Don Perignon."

He turned towards you, coming closer, his head level with your thigh as his eyes inevitably fell on the bills you'd been given.

"And what's the price if I only want you and nothing else with me?" he questioned as his gaze returned to yours.

"Here, from 80 dollars I can give you a 10-minute air dance." you said as you leaned towards him, your faces close but not yet touching. "Outside, nothing."

A small, proud smile appeared on his lips. However, you being far too hot and gorgeous, he was beginning to feel tight in his clothes, especially his pants.

"What time do you get off?" he asked, sitting up differently, your eyes falling on his crotch and smiling as you bit your lip.

"Five o'clock. Will you last until then?"

He sighed, his eyes falling on your lips, eager.

"I just don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands to myself."

You smiled, then straightened up, reaching for your top. But Miguel took his wallet out of his pocket and slipped a bill under your garter belt. To be deprived of a view like this? Never. You smile a little more, and sit back down on the table, kneeling upright to let him get a good look at you.

He leaned towards you again, intertwining his fingers as his gaze softened slightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, biting your cheek as you looked down at your hands carefully placed in your lap.

"I was scared," you admitted with a sigh. "Scared that this would end what we have."

You knew that not all men or simply partners were comfortable with their halves being strippers, and the idea that Miguel shared that opinion terrified you.

"Nena," he called your nickname.

Your head was still down, and you felt the soft sensation of money paper under your chin. Miguel straightened your jaw with a bill, bringing his eyes to yours.

"This isn't a problem to me." he smiled, lowering his hand to place the bill under the elastic of your belt. "This is actually really good."

Confusion seized you along with relief, causing you to frown while sporting a grin.

"Why?"

He tilted his head to one side, smiling proudly.

"I get the satisfaction for everyone to see how gorgeous you are, while being the only one who has the right to touch you."

You let out a small burst of voice somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, the relief of his answer washing over you like a wave of comfort.

After that, he'd deserved more than just a show.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VI. do you trust me?

parts: previously / next plot: things are getting messy. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, descriptions of surgery, angsty mcangsty pants as always, mentions of the christian God and religious practices, maybe you and bruce wouldn't have to keep so many secrets if you just made out a lil bit, :). words: 6.2k.

a/n: edit as of 2/11/24: replaced mistaken use of "officer" with "detective".

Your needle passes through skin to the beat of a steady metronome. It's made up of muscle memory, glazing your mind as your hands thread the tear together. With each pass, you're unblinking. There are three others in the room with you but they might as well be shadows, faceless and without sound, coloring your peripheral but otherwise of no concern.

The steady metronome beats on well into your final pull of the thread, well into your dismissal of the shadows, well into the comforts of your office where your brain falls out of rhythm. It's been 48 hours and you haven't found a clue.

You'd think after 17 years that you'd have forgotten his name, but you remember Detective Russo. About 5'9, a kinky black beard, and bushy eyebrows that took up good real estate on his forehead. You remembered sizing up every one of those officers, but he was the one you'd memorized. He was the one that promised you that no one would ever know you were there that night. And now Bruce knows.

He was a detective of little significance outside of that, as far as your research was concerned. He'd served a whopping total of 20 years on the force before retiring seven years ago, but without any social media presence or nearby family to speak of, you couldn't find him. Not an old address, not a phone number, nothing. It was like he'd wiped himself clean the minute he retired. Which meant you'd have to resort to plan B.

Your boss intercepts you before you can even get to the stairs, though. Rudy Moretti rarely had good timing, after all, "Hey! Early lunch?"

You think about lying for all of two seconds, "No. Headed to the police station."

Your boss' eyebrows shoot up. "Whoa, everything okay? Are one of those guys from the other night bothering you? I can come with you if you need-"

"No, no. Nothing like that. It's something personal."

Rudy shifts awkwardly, "Oh. Well, be safe. And let me know if anything like that pops up." You nod, attempting to escape, but his hand finds your elbow and stops you, "By the way... how's everything with Mr. Wayne?"

You should've expected a question like that by now. You had been officially working for him long enough to warrant it, but you still wince. "Fine." When your boss blinks at you, expecting more, you have to bite your tongue to keep from swearing, "I actually... was invited to a celebration for the Mayor. Courtesy of Mr. Wayne. She was interested in the hospital's new wing. We had a good conversation."

Like a child on Christmas morning, your boss lights up at the good news. "Oh, that's good! That's good. Did she mention wanting to come down for a tour?"

"What happened to you should have never happened in the first place. I'm glad you were able to make it out alive."

Her hand on yours should've been a comfort, and to some extent it was, but even the softness of her palm couldn't have steadied your trembling. She had squeezed tighter when she felt it, perhaps thinking you traumatized for having to recall that night. Unaware of where you'd been. Unaware of the burning need to escape before you spilled your guts on the Persian rug.

"It happens all the time," a voice came from your right, a drunken councilman with his suit jacket unbuttoned, "and it'll keep happening so long as that thug's still running the streets."

"Thug?" The mayor dipped her chin.

"With all due respect, Bella, what's your plan to put Batman in Arkham for good?"

You watched the mayor's back straighten, her eyes narrow. It was the one thing everyone was itching to talk about, and the one thing everyone was too afraid to bring up first.

You felt Bruce's knee bump yours and stiffened.

"You think he ought to be imprisoned?" The mayor asks.

"I think he ought to be drawn and quartered! It's people like him that make this city a far cry from its glory days. Inviting violence, chaos. He's single-handedly responsible for that- that homicidal freak that nearly killed you, mayor. And he's responsible for everything else this city's suffered since he started infecting it. He's a menace. It'll be a cold day in hell before this city's safe with him still on the streets."

It sickened you to hear. People who'd done nothing since being elected calling for the arrest of the one person who's made any real change in this city.

The mayor doesn't immediately speak up and you think she's chewing on his words, preparing to respond with a bit more bite. Her pause is what prompts you to speak first, "If it wasn't for the Batman, I might be dead. He's done more good for this city than bad..." you watch the councilman turn his focus to you, looking baffled as to why you were butting in, as if you hadn't just finished recounting your brush with death moments ago, "...with all due respect, Councilman Roberts."

The councilman sobers up at the heavy gaze you level on him, "Oh, no. Of course. Of course! It's good that he was there. It would've been a- been a real tragedy to lose one of Gotham's good, fine citizens. I'm just saying that... maybe these things wouldn't be happening if he wasn't there to... encourage it."

"You think he's encouraging it?" The mayor chimes in, taking a sip from her glass. Whatever she was going to say before has been shelved for the time being, it seems.

The councilman laughs. You watch him twist so that he's facing you and the mayor, holding his glass to her like a gavel for judgement, "He's a glorified criminal! He's no better than that clown we put away years ago."

"He put away, councilman. I believe you meant to say he," Bruce's first words since he'd introduced you to Bella give you a shiver. With his one arm hanging off the back of the couch, he leans in from beside you and smiles that TV smile again, "Unless you've got something you’d like to share with the class?"

Snickers break out amongst the group. You can feel Bruce's breath on your shoulder for only a passing moment, and then he's falling back into the couch and taking a swig of his wine.

The councilman bristles, clearly not a fan of being laughed at. Or being faced with the truth, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just a silly theory of mine. It's just... it would make sense for a vigilante to hide his identity by publicly denouncing himself, especially if he’s in the public eye already. I mean, it would make most people cross you off their list but... you're making me think twice about you."

You chance a glance at Bruce's face. He isn't drunk. His eyes hold a steady gaze with the councilman encroaching on your space to meet it, and even with the looseness of his body, you can tell he's calculating. His arm behind your head feels drawn tight. You can sense it in its weight near your head. He's flashing his teeth and keeping his voice light, but he's not defenseless. He's leveraging.

Your heart hammers again at what lie beneath this tower.

The councilman flushes. Sinks back into his seat, grumbling, but all eyes on him has him forcing a grin, "You're funny, Wayne. Unfortunately for your theory, I have a real job. Making real change in this city. Something Batman wouldn't understand."

That does something to you, "Maybe I'm biased, but... I've seen what he's done for this city, sir. And in the wake of last year, I think we can all agree that... well, anyone can say they're making change. Even if they're just making money instead. Perhaps it feels like Batman is doing more because we actually know what he's doing."

Bruce's leg bumps yours again. Accidentally.

You watch the councilman's Adam's apple bob, "No offense, and I'm sure you feel offended on behalf of the man that saved you, but there are laws that make sure people like me and Ms. Reál don't cross the line. What say you, when your hero takes things too far one day, hm? Who're you going to call when the Batman beats someone's brains in because people like you justify it? Or is it only okay because at least he stopped you from getting a bullet to the head?"

You're about to spew the first thing that comes to mind, probably full of anger and vitriol and a little of whatever you had to drink earlier, when you feel a hand take hold of your inner wrist. Bruce's grip is firm, but it doesn't hurt you. It's enough to stop whatever might come out of your mouth. When you look him in the eye, he's not smiling anymore.

You stare at each other like that for a few moments, not a word shared but a million thought. It was almost like he knew what you were going to say, knew how it might've made you look, made you both look. Had imagined it coming out of his own mouth too, maybe.

Instead, he releases you and turns to the councilman, "Okay, enough. We all feel pretty spirited about the topic." When the councilman scoffs, Bruce nods to you, "I think you both make good points. He's done good. He saved my doctor, of whom I never would've had the pleasure of working with otherwise. But I have to agree with you, councilman: he operates outside of the law and that is cause for concern. I'm sure these are all important issues that our mayor is working tirelessly to address, isn't that right, Mayor?"

Mayor Reál has her leg crossed over the other, eyes cutting from the councilman's to Bruce's to yours. Eventually, she smiles and raises her glass, "Indeed. This conversation was enlightening. Much to think about."

"I'm gonna get another drink." Your announcement is followed by the most graceful exit you can muster, even though your chest is throbbing with adrenaline and you can feel Bruce following you.

You don't stop until you reach the bar and have another glass in hand, doing your best to ignore his presence as he looms beside you. He allows you a full three sips before he starts talking, "Are you okay?"

The diplomat from before is long gone. He's melted, keeping his back to the group you'd just escaped and giving you such wet puppy dog eyes that it makes you want to hurl again. How could he look you in the eye?

Your hand shakes around the stem of your glass, "You're different around them."

His eyes fall to the bar top, "I am?"

"Smiling, friendly, funny..."

He cuts his eyes back to you, smiling a little, "I'm not usually funny?"

"You pretend to be laid-back around them, and I get why. But you don't do that with me. You act like I know some big secret about you and I'm this close to spilling it," you pinch your fingers together in front of his face, "or maybe you know some big secret about me."

You watch his face for any sign of recognition, but you're disappointed to find there is none. No reaction other than a sigh. "I pretend around them because I don't trust them."

"And you trust me? Even though we barely know each other?"

Uncharacteristically, Bruce tilts so close toward you that you bend back to keep some semblance of space between you, "You're asking if I trust the person I pay to keep me alive over... Councilman Roberts." He pronounces the last two words with such incredulity, then laughs right after. You note his breath smells sweet, but nothing like the wine. Had it been wine he'd been drinking? One look at his glass and you'd think so. Two looks, though...

He was stone cold sober.

You swallow, staring up into his face. Bruce doesn't back away. Questions begin to form on your tongue... destructive ones.

How do you know? How did you find out? What are you going to do about it?

Your stomach drops as you think, surely, there's quite a bit he can do about it. If he wanted to. If you made the wrong move.

His eyes narrow on you, "You look sick. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'd like to go home."

Bruce blinks, shrinks in on himself a bit, "Okay."

"I... I drove."

Bruce nods, holds a hand up to one of the suited men near the edge of the room, and turns to you, "My driver. He'll take you home."

"My... my car. I have work in the morning." You mumble pathetically.

Bruce says something to the driver when he gets close. Another man is summoned, appearing by your side in an instant. This one holds out his hand to you and it takes you a second to realize what he's asking for. You fish your keys out and drop them in his waiting palm.

It's incredibly awkward as Bruce walks you out. You think he'll stop at the front door, or the elevator, or even the lobby, but he walks you all the way to the back door of his ride and—God—even holds it open for you.

You settle in to the nice seats, blinking up at him through eyes you fight to keep dry. You wonder if Bruce would forgive you for throwing up in his car instead. "If it's any consolation," he begins, leaning on the roof of the car. You can still hear the bustle of Gotham all around you, but when he looks at you... there might as well be only him and you, "I agree with you. Councilman Roberts is a jackass."

Your boss is looking at you, expectantly. Still waiting.

"I'm sure she's thinking about it." Is your curt reply. "Is that it? I really gotta go."

Your boss deflates, but otherwise doesn't keep you.

"How can I help you?"

The cop behind the desk seems nice enough. He doesn't smile at you but his tone is pleasant, unhurried. It helps calm your nerves. "Hi. I'm looking for someone. A detective who used to work here."

"You remember their name?"

"Detective Joey Russo," you offer, watching the cop begin to type into his computer, "he retired seven years ago. I wanted to know if you could get me in touch with him. A number or a... address."

"Ah, Russo. I remember him. I'm sorry, may I ask who you are?" You give your name and the cop frowns. "You got a badge? Unless you're with the state, I can't give you anything."

You'd worried as much, "He worked a case of mine 17 years ago. Something new's popped up and I just wanted to talk to him about it."

"If it's about a case we covered, you'd have to talk to one of us about it unless he's directly involved, and even then it'd be a process." He must notice how your face falls because his own softens, "I'm real sorry. I can get you in with someone else."

You know you shouldn't be upset. After all, he was only doing his job. If they gave out personal information to every person who walked in off the street, you imagined they'd have a bigger problem with domestic terrorism than they already do.

It doesn't make it any less debilitating. Bruce Wayne had found him. That was the only way he could've gotten his hands on your file, surely. And Bruce Wayne had money, more than enough to get an ex-cop to talk.

You're thanking the man and trying not to sound as distressed as you feel when you turn and catch new eyes.

You'd only seen Batman at night, tucked into the corners of shadow of your apartment, but here he was in broad daylight—midday—standing next to a plainclothes cop who had yet to realize the vigilante was no longer listening to him. You're so relieved to see him that you actually break out into a smile.

Batman doesn't return it. Without acknowledging his partner, he stomps across the room to you, cutting off your greeting with a rushed, "Did something happen?"

You blink, unable to answer when the cop from before sidles up next to the two of you. He's got a warm, friendly look to him, even if his eyes are narrowed at the pair of you with skepticism, "You two know each other?" He asks. When Batman refuses to tear his eyes from you, the cop addresses you directly, reluctant to extend his hand without confirmation that you were friend, not foe, "Detective James Gordon. And you are?" You give your name and his eyes light up. "Hey. I know you, don't I?"

"The hostage at Gotham General," Bruce answers for him, not even bothering to glance at the detective, "they were on the news."

"You three mind moving somewhere else? The freak's making people uncomfortable." The kind cop from before has dropped all pretense now, glaring at the vigilante who, still, pays no one but you mind.

Gordon grumbles and motions for you both to follow him down a long hallway out of sight.

You struggle to keep up when the detective starts walking, much faster than he looked, and so you all but yelp when the Bat places a hand on your lower back and guides you in front of him.

A turn or two later, you empty out beside a window at the end of another long hallway, far enough away from prying eyes that the detective seems to find it sufficient.

"What are you doing here?" Batman asks immediately.

"I was looking for someone but, actually, now that you're here, I was wondering if I could talk to you." You look over at Gordon, "If you're not busy."

The detective grunts but holds his hands up in surrender, slinking down the hall out of earshot, "I'm gonna go smoke, but I need him back in ten."

When he's far enough away, Batman speaks, voice at a much lower volume than before, "What's wrong?"

"I'm looking for a cop. I need to get in touch with him but he retired and they won't tell me where I can find him."

The Bat's head tilts to the side. You can tell the gears in his brain are turning, "Who?"

"Detective Joey Russo." The Bat freezes. "Do you know him?"

He doesn't answer that, something you take note of with a funny feeling in your chest, "Why are you looking for him?"

It's your turn not to answer. You should've known he wouldn't just tell you without good reason, but your throat closes up when you think about how you'll explain it. It wasn't that you didn't trust him... but... "It's personal. Please."

"That's not enough."

"I know... I know. And I wouldn't be asking this of you if it wasn't important-"

"Then tell me why."

"I can't. But it is important. To me. I promise, it's for good reason."

"A good reason that you can't tell me? That's not enough. That's not how I work. God forbid someone finds out I gave you classified information."

"If I told you why I needed it—if I told anyone why I needed it—it would defeat the whole purpose!"

"That doesn't make you sound any more convincing."

"Batman, please," and your voice breaks as you step that much closer to him, your eyes rimming with tears you're terrified to shed, "I have never asked you for anything, have I? Not for money or your identity or anything. I am asking you for this one thing because I have no one else. You... are the only person who can help me. Please."

You see his face fall, so clear it feels like you can see right through him. Past the cowl and the facades and right into his very being. For a moment, you're just seeing the person and not the idea of him. You see your fears reflected back at you in his eyes, a deep understanding there that gives you some hope.

He draws a deep, heavy breath, and- "I'm sorry."

You're too stunned to watch him walk away.

Judith's apartment has a lack of technology and an abundance of crucifixes. The first time you'd seen it, you'd thought it was overkill. Now, since you've visited enough, it was comforting in its own creepy way. A blast into the past, memories of a grandmother who was never really your grandmother.

She startles at the stove where she's just put something in the oven, "Oh! Dear, I didn't hear you come in. Is everything alright?"

You smile and kick your shoes off by the key-holder, "I knocked. You're supposed to have your hearing aid in."

She gives you a stern look, then smiles.

You can smell hibiscus tea in the air, her favorite. She'd gather handfuls of hibiscus and dry them out in the sun, and then she'd steep their petals in hot water until it turned a deep pink. The taste was always striking, tart and strong, but she'd sweeten it with honey for you and then it wouldn't be so bad.

Without asking, she waddles over to her breakfast table where you've already found your seat and pours you a steaming cup of tea. You take the honey she's brought with her and begin to stir. "You never answered my question." Judith reminds you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, "I'm just taking a break from work, is all. Do I need to be having a bad day to visit you?"

"No, I suppose not," she sighs, taking the seat across from you, "but you do look a wreck."

You grumble. You hadn't looked in the mirror. You hadn't done anything but busy yourself in hopes that it would stave off the wave of anxious tears threatening to fall. You busied yourself until your hands started shaking and people started asking questions. And now you were here.

"Yeah. I'm sure I do. Work's... been hard."

"And besides work?"

"I don't know. I don't really have a life outside of work anymore."

Judith frowns, "You should really make some friends, dear."

That gets you to laugh. "I have friends! I have you. Are you not my friend?"

You could see the question already brewing, the narrow of her eyes as she watched you begin to fidget, "And that demon? Is he still hanging around you?"

You cast your gaze to the tabletop, "...I don't think we'll be seeing him around anymore."

"Oh?" You don't miss the hope in Judith's voice, "Did the police finally arrest him?"

"No. I think I may have... scared him off."

She doesn't respond for a while, even though you can tell from the shift in the air that she's rather pleased with this development. It makes you feel sicker to the stomach. "It might be for the best, dear," you can tell that she's being careful, minding your upset, "he's dangerous. It's best you stick to the light for now." When you don't respond, her leathery hand clasps over yours and forces you to look her in the eye, "Come with me to service this week. I've been telling everyone about you."

You snort, "About me and the demon I'm friends with?"

Judith shakes her head furiously, as if the accusation that she might have spilled your secret greatly insulted her, "They have been praying for you ever since the night at the hospital. They'd really like to see you in person one of these days. I never shut up about how proud I am of you."

Even through the despair, you feel the warmth of Judith's love. It makes you hold her hand back, gripping so tightly that you fear she may be too fragile to handle it. She doesn't seem to mind.

You two share the rest of your tea in relative silence, taking breaks to comment on the neighbors or the news or the weather (which never really changes outside of summer, but you always have something to say with her).

After a refill or two, you feel the dread begin to creep in.

"Dear, come here," Judith calls as you button up your coat at the door, "bow your head."

You frown but do as you're told. In a blink, you feel her finger swipe across your forehead in a quick motion. The familiar scent of cinnamon and myrrh hit your senses right after. You reach up to touch it but Judith captures your hand in her own. In her other is a small vial, unmarked, filled halfway with oil. "To protect you," she says, nodding gravely, "God will watch over you. You are blessed."

You want to tell her that the anointing does nothing for the stones gathering in your stomach, that the moment you walk out of this door you will be hit with a wave so sudden that you will surely drown. But you'd be lying if you said this little woman with her God and prayers didn't make you feel, even for a fraction of a second, safe. You kiss her cheek goodbye.

It's desperate, you know that. You spend the whole evening hating yourself as you pace the hardwood floors, thumbing over buttons and weighing the pros and cons.

"For emergencies only", but this was an emergency to you. It felt like one, the way it gnawed at your very center demanding blood. Every minute dreading that you'd have to see him again and pretend like you had no idea that he knew that you... You'd also spent part of the evening bent over the toilet.

At some point, you throw yourself onto your fire escape for fresh air and nearly throw the phone across the way just to breathe.

You know you've screwed up. The tentative threads of your friendship with the Bat had surely been severed. What had gotten into you, asking him for such a bold favor without anything to offer in return? You'd already given him your hands and your mind, the two things that you'd worked so hard to hone, and you would never think of taking them away.

But maybe that would be inevitable. Maybe you'd lose your license if this got out. And it wouldn't just be you carrying that burden. Every single one of you would be dug up and exposed to the world, and with Bruce Wayne involved, you couldn't imagine the lawsuits. You just couldn't. They could put you under the prison with his kind of money.

And the cops didn't even know everything.

You gasp, sob, and wrench yourself from the railing. You clench the phone tight.

Even if you could get to Russo, and even if he admitted that he gave you up, what good would it do? Bruce had already seen it. He probably had a contact at the DA's office on speed dial. You'd seen what money could do to men like him in this city. What it made men like him do to people like you. The echoes of the accusations against his father a year ago still rang in the wind, and his efforts to make up for it all would never truly make that go away. A criminal record was just as much currency as anything else. He would undeniably own you.

Somewhere between your panicking thoughts, you hear the grates of the fire escape tremor from above. You whip your head up and see a dark shape hovering a floor up. Swiftly, it descends the stairs until your eyes adjust. Your heart catches in your throat as you choke out his name.

The strangled noise causes him to pause when he turns to you. You clear your throat, "Are you hurt?" Batman's head tilts to the side. His eyes flicker from the phone in your hand and back to you. "I'm... I wanted to see you."

His shoulders stiffen. He almost looks like he didn't mean to come. A sliver of you had actually hoped he'd changed his mind, too. "I know it wasn't fair of me to ask something like that of you with no explanation. And I'm sorry. I want you to know that."

He waits, head still tilted.

You bite your tongue, tasting the blood beginning to pool on the surface.

You could tell him. Lay it all bare. And he could drop you at the GCPD without another word.

Or he could accept you. See the you that stands before him now, who had been years clean and had saved his life on your living room floor and confessed that he was why you were a better person now.

That's what friends did. Were you and the Batman friends?

Were you and Batman... anything?

"I wasn't always like this," your head throbs as you force yourself to keep talking, clenching the railing behind you with one hand, "I'm sure it's no surprise to you that I didn't just waltz through life completely innocent for thirty-something years, given where I come from. I wasn't a very good person when I was younger... and I did things I'm not proud of. And, by the grace of a very good man, a very small group of people know the true extent of that.

"But recently, I found out that someone who shouldn't know... does. And they could ruin my life if they used it against me. So I need to talk to Russo, because I need to know if he broke his promise, and then... God knows what else. I don't know. I haven't thought any further than that."

Something substantial but unclear, and if Batman were to go digging officially and find out the rest, at least you'd know Russo was the snitch.

But your heart still clenches in your chest. It feels like you are all made up of open wounds and they're all gushing blood as he watches, saying nothing. If you had really told him the truth, you imagined it would feel akin to spontaneous combustion. God, would you even be able to utter the words? It'd been so long since you'd last said-

Batman takes a slow step toward you, and the open wounds seal up at once. You are frozen.

Another, and another, until you are caged there against the railing, awaiting his verdict. Judge, jury, and... "And if he didn't? If it wasn't him that sold you out?"

You'd briefly considered that. Your friends, who were really more ghosts now than friends, had no reason to expose themselves. They'd gotten off just as easily as you did. Most of them were living lives on the other side of the country now, far, far removed from the history you shared together. Only you remained.

And who would even think to go looking into them? Outside of your history together, now sealed up and locked away, no one would look for them unless they knew what happened already.

Which only left one other option. "Then someone did—someone very close to Bruce Wayne, and there's nothing I can fucking do about it."

Batman stares at you for a while. You don't have a clue what he's looking for. "If I take you to Russo," you gasp, and he hurries his words out before you can say anything else, "it'll be the last time anything like this ever happens again. We go, we ask, and that's it."

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you."

"And I wasn't lying to you."

"What?"

"About Wayne. When you asked me if he was corrupt." You watch his eyes waver on you, eventually falling to the grates beneath your feet, and you're dumbstruck by the shift in his tone. "I never lied to you."

"I... I didn't think you had." He looks at you again. "But there are things that maybe we don't know about him," and as you speak, you place a hand on his arm, feeling it go rigid even beneath the suit, "I mean, he's a Wayne. They're older than this city. And you've seen firsthand the kind of reach people with that kind of money have. He can smile and wave and support as many good causes as he wants, but that could all be smoke and mirrors."

"You really don't trust him, do you?"

You sigh. You could almost hear Emily asking the same thing. But Emily would be smiling, and Batman is grave. Almost... disappointed. Your frown strengthens, "He's got a lot of secrets."

"So do I."

"Yeah, but you also saved my life," you chuckle, "if Wayne pushes me out of the way of a moving car, I might reconsider my stance on him."

The Bat squints at you. To your relief, you notice a bit of mirth in his voice, "No. You wouldn't."

"Listen, I am really grateful that you're doing this for me. And I wanted to say that after today, the thought of scaring you away scared me. And I would really, really like it if you could trust me. I don't want you to think that I'm taking this for granted. I'm not asking for you to take off your mask or bare your soul or anything. I just want you to know that-"

"I gave you this," the hand holding your burner is scooped up in his, held between the two of you, "because I trust you. I keep coming back because... I like... this. It's different. And I don't trust easily. If you believe me on anything, believe me on that."

A bit of your dread is chased away, and your hero is standing in the wake. Bruce Wayne is far away from this moment. He can't stain it. You won't let him. "You wanna come in for coffee?"

At that exact moment, your doorbell rings.

You see Batman jolt backwards and reflexively reach for him, using what strength you have to keep him from escaping. He watches you, wide-eyed, as you cling to his side, "Wait, wait. I wasn't expecting anybody. I'll send them off. It'll be quick."

He turns his head to the door. "You weren't expecting anyone?"

You shake your head. He shucks away your grip as he climbs through the window and takes a few, long strides to the door. He has to bend to look through your peephole, and you rush to catch up to him. After a long moment, he peers at you from the corner of his eye, "It's an old lady."

Judith. The doorbell rings again. "My neighbor. She's harmless, I'll handle it."

You expect him to walk off, find somewhere else to hide from sight, but he backs up behind the door and waits, nodding to you. Well, he was out of sight.

The door opens. The concerned look on Judith's face melts as soon as she sees you there, and holds out a pan wrapped in tinfoil, "Oh, there you are, dear. I made too much casserole so I came to give you the rest. Just in case you haven't had dinner yet."

You beam at her, taking the dish out of her hands, "Thanks, Judith. That's really sweet of you."

She returns a modest smile, but it falls away a second later. You follow her gaze past your shoulder and into the living room where- shit. "It's winter." Her brows furrow, "You'll catch cold if you keep your window open all night."

"Right! I was just... looking out over the city. Taking a breather. You caught me in the middle of it."

She presses the back of her hand to your arm and you note the very stark difference in her body temperature to yours. She frowns hard, stepping closer to you in order to whisper, "Has that demon come to see you again?"

You can't see him from where you're holding the door open, though it's your instinct to glance, but you feel yourself warming up pretty quickly, "He's not a demon, Judith."

No matter how often you repeat it, it goes in one hearing aid and out the other, "Then why does he have horns-"

"Judith, I'm fine, I swear. Even if... he did come visit, I would be fine. He wouldn't hurt me. As I've told you before."

She stares at your window, looking for little goblins with pointed tails and pitchforks no doubt. But as the curtains blow this way and that and no shadows make themselves clear, she is forced to take your word for it. "Alright," she relents, and you try not to visibly deflate, "enjoy the casserole, dear. Keep the window shut."

You watch her waddle all the way down the hallway, smile every time she glances back at you, and wait until you can no longer hear her kitten heels click-clack-clicking on the stairway down. You immediately shut the door and drop your head against it with a dull thud.

A few moments pass. You can feel him still next to you. Even worse, you can feel him trying not to laugh. "She thinks I'm a demon?"

You stand up and shove the casserole into his hands, only a little taken aback by the smile on his face when you do, "You're going to eat this casserole and then you're gonna tell that woman you're a God-fearing man and it tasted fucking delicious."

a/n: there's a scene I'm really excited to write for next chapter if it's gonna go the way I plan for it to go :)

[txttletale]

Hi! So, i'm going through Capital, great little obscure book sad that it never got any wide-reaching support (/s), have a couple questions so far though if you wouldn't mind giving some time to answer them:

What does Marx mean when he talks about 'unskilled labor' in relation to 'skilled labor'? Doesn't the vast majority of labor, even things like factory work, require training to do and especially to become good/efficient at? In the passage where he mentioned it he also mentions that (some, not all) unskilled labor, in sufficient quantities, can equal skilled labor but like. this doesn't really make any sense if its just, say, factory work vs idfk tailoring or something. So i'm a bit confused. Or is he talking about what i just mentioned where when you start out doing something you're unskilled but gradually become better at it as you do it more and more?

Who the hell is Ricardo?

factory work requires training to do, sure, but it's an order of magnitude less training than it took to learn to do those jobs before the introduction of the factories--on the level of, say, a few weeks (at absolute maximum) of training, done alongside actual work, before being fully able to work in a furniture factory, as opposed to the actual years of apprenticeship it historically took to become a carpenter. being unskilled doesn't mean that nobody can be good at a job, but it does mean, essentially, that you could grab any random person off the street and have them doing it within a week.

this distinction isn't there to be moralized about but to concretely analyze the different economic positions of these jobs--if your job is unskilled, you are going to be paid worse and have less secure employment, because you are easy to replace and the number of people looking to replace you are also competing against you to work for the lowest wages, driving your wages down. you're also paid less because the cost of reproducing your labour (the core determiner of the 'base price' of wages) is much lower. when an e.g. surgeon gets paid highly, their employer (whether the state or a capitalist) is essentially paying them more to retroactively pay for their extensive years of training.

this distinction is at its most clear when it comes to the concept of deskilling, which is crucial to marx's understanding of the industrial revolution -- with the introduction of machinery, years and years of learning how to do something by hand could be replaced with weeks of learning how to operate a machine. this deskilled huge sections of the economy and proletarianized the artisans and manufacturers who formerly did that work by making them dependent on the machines owned by factory workers. deskilling is the mechanism by which advancements in productive technology paradoxically make the jobs of those working in those fields more precarious and onerous even as the task itself becomes much easier, so it's pretty important to understand for an understanding of historical materialism.

david ricardo was a 19th century economist who advanced the ideas first laid forward by adam smith re: the labour theory of value and was the first to postulate (although without addressing the signficant political implications of this!) that real wages had an inverse relationship to real profits. marx draws heavily on his ideas but is also critical of them. capital is subtitled 'a critique of political economy' -- ricardo is a key figure in the field of political economy that he's critiquing.

[violettaskies]

Not Just a Dream

Prompt: sex toys

Pairing: bodyguard!eddie munson x f!reader

Notes: wc 9.5k // kinktober story two of five // hope everyone enjoys this one, the love for the first story was so crazy omgggg and it’s so heartwarming to see all the support. so thank you for everything // this is my first au sorta thing so i hope everything makes sense // eddie is a perv as always lol

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // peeping, pillow humping, sex toys, vibrator, masturbation, mutual masturbation // smut // reader’s first time is mentioned, not the most mind blowing experience, but not gone into heavy detail // please let me know if there are any more that need to be added!

ao3 // kinktober masterlist // full masterlist // lazy ghoul’s kinktober prompts

-:-:-:-:-

To say that this was probably the easiest job in the world would be an understatement. For years, of doing newspaper routes in the rain, having near-misses with the Hawkins’ police department due to being Reefer Rick’s little dealer — being a bodyguard was pretty sweet. Especially since he is always standing next to an angelic beauty as the person he needs to protect on a daily basis. It was truly a miracle that this job fell into Eddie’s lap, literally. 

As he was rummaging through shelves to look for something to do whilst hiding away from the hypothetical pitchforks of the townspeople several days ago, there was one item in Rick’s home that stood out from the rest. It was a copy of The Silmarillion, which could be deemed as relatively normal in homes with a bookworm or two. However, it being the only novel in the entirety of the building, was strange. Within the pages, there was a piece of paper with a note that contained a phone number and address. Truthfully, Eddie felt like this was all meant for him, so he decided to follow it. When he did, he found himself at a large apartment complex in Chicago with a huge penthouse at the very top.

This didn’t feel right, everyone walking in and out of the lobby was dressed in the finest clothes. Even if they were going out on an afternoon jog, Eddie noted how they were still wearing a gold watch so casually. As he stood there, with the same outfit he had washed and re-wore a thousand times, the former Dealer’s heart dropped. 

This was a mistake. 

All he was able to do was walk backwards, almost as if he wanted to see if the beautiful architecture was bound to get smaller if he kept his gaze on it. Eddie wanted to go home — well, he wanted to find a new home. At the very least, it probably wasn’t here; the little note gave him too much hope in a time of despair. Maybe he should just — 

“Are you lost?” a sweet voice nearly whispered from behind him. As Eddie was walking without looking, he had accidentally bumped into a young woman with a few books in hand. 

“No, just passing through. Maybe I would have better luck if I wasn't walking backwards,” the man chuckled as he looked at you fully now, noting that you were about the same age as him; only you were definitely in a different tax bracket than him. 

“Well, hopefully you can walk in the right direction to wherever you need to go.” The sound of your voice was so soft in comparison to the sounds of the city. Eddie couldn’t help that he was hypnotized the instant he took you all in. 

“Y-yeah, have a good day,” although he wished to bask in your beauty for a moment longer, this city was not for him. 

And so, like strangers on the street on a regular day, the two of you nodded politely before walking in opposite directions. Only Eddie stopped himself after taking three steps, just to see where you were — something in him told him to check if you were safe, like his conscience thinking straight for the first time in his life. However, he noticed how you walked into the building he was just admiring, confirming that you two really were from different worlds. Well, at least he got to see some beautiful things before leaving the city. 

Or so he thought. Just as he was about to look away, he noticed two tall men dressed in long black coats following her; and then one walking his way. The man had a chiseled jaw, as if it were cut by the gods themselves. The dark sunglasses made him so much more ominous and scary to Eddie who was shorter than the man in black by at least half a foot. In a flash, Eddie was looking up at the man with the building towering above both of them. 

“Come with me.” The command fell from the man’s lips in a deep tone, Eddie could nearly hear the bass in it. 

“Nope,” Eddie looked around awkwardly before spinning around, only to be stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder that pulled him backwards. 

If one thing was for certain, the young Munson truly knew how to get away from situations he didn’t want to be in. There were countless moments like this one where he was stopped by a manager at a store, or maybe even Chief Hopper. Sometimes they would grasp him by the shoulder, but he was always able to find a way out of the hold. This time, however, Eddie found himself surrounded by other men wearing similar-looking black suits, who all looked at him in a slightly threatening manner. It was more than enough to halt him in his tracks and take on whatever was going to happen next. 

“You’ll want to come with me,” the scary man whispered in the younger man’s ear before dragging him to the alleyway and into an entrance on the side of the beautiful building that just turned into a sinister figure in his life as he was being pulled further and further into it. 

-:-:-:-:-

Over the course of two weeks, way too much has happened to Eddie’s heart. He swears that it has felt like it has beaten out of his chest at least once a day due to all of the series of unfortunate events that started at home and ended up here: in a dark room with one lamp lighting it and large men dressed in suits surrounding him. Eddie knew that his life decisions would probably end up costing him a lot. But, he never knew that he would probably be paying the price now. He really should have ran when he had the chance. He has always been good at anyways. But, if he did, then he wouldn’t be able to have really seen you. Again, he’s happy he was able to see one beautiful thing in this week full of terror. 

The fear within him only multiplied a thousand times as he heard footsteps walking towards the room. No one could hear a thing except for the slow patter of expensive shoes hitting the wooden floors. The noise was nearly a countdown for Eddie, each step bringing in a new question into his mind. Is someone going to kill him? What did he even do? Was the news from Hawkins spreading this fast and someone wanted the bounty? Is Rick the one walking behind him? 

It wasn’t. 

Instead, it was a handsome older man, probably a bit younger than his Uncle Wayne — only dressed in clothes that probably were worth more than anything everyone in this room was wearing, combined. Plus, the smell of the man’s cologne was nicer than all of the ones Eddie stole from Starcourt last year. As Eddie looked around him whilst sitting in the chair in the middle of the room, he prayed that whatever these people wanted from him, it would at least be something he had. 

“Are you Rick’s kid?” the expensive-looking man’s voice echoed as he stood above Eddie. 

“Rick?” He tried to sound a little dumb to make sure that they weren’t people who hated his acquaintance. 

“Yeah, from Indiana. The little shit is in jail but he called us the other day. You his kid?” The man said, who Eddie figures is most likely the boss of this entire scene. “You look exactly like he said you would.” 

“Looks like he set your expectations really low then,” He genuinely hasn't showered properly in days — so goodness knows how his appearance looks to people who are meeting him for the first time. Eddie chuckled as he thought about the possibility of his crazy hair being crazier right now, trying to liven up his own spirits. 

Luckily, the boss did smile with him. He did seem like a nice man surrounded by scary men. Maybe it just helped whatever image he was trying to portray. Eddie remembers the times Rick would drunkenly tell stories about his boss in Chicago who was the real supplier of everything, and how he was actually a very nice and forgiving man in comparison to the other leaders in the game. 

He was so nice in fact, that he snapped his fingers and someone was able to bring a chair over, so that he and Eddie were able to look at one another eye-to-eye. 

“You look like shit, Rick said you’re running from something in your town,” he said in a concerned voice. 

“Y-yeah, a few things,” Eddie paused. “I went over to Rick’s place and found a book—”

“Tolkien?” 

“Yes, sir. There was an address in it and something in me told me to follow it.” Eddie could feel his breaths getting heavier as he knew that everyone was listening to every small detail. 

The boss leaned in closer and placed a soft and comforting grasp to Eddie’s shoulder, making the younger man look at him with slightly nervous eyes. Yet, he felt like he didn’t need to feel that way anymore. 

“Well, you listened to your gut, son. You listened well, I promise you’re safe now.” The boss coughed a bit in his pause. “Rick knew you’d probably head to his place and snoop around while you were hiding. Thank god he picked such an obvious book, huh?” 

“I swear I’ve never seen that man read in my life,” Eddie chuckled as he saw the smile lines on the boss’ face become more prominent. 

“Exactly, he’s had that in there since he got his ass in the slammer. After hearing about your little wanted poster, he called us right away.” 

“You don’t need to help me, really. I can get on my way somewhere else—” 

Eddie was rambling. His guilt was taking over now. There were so many people here who wanted to help him; whilst he only thought the worst when the men in black suits dragged him in here. They were probably keeping an eye out to see if he would show up. Eddie genuinely believed that he was about to die again, but he was strangely welcomed to a boss who was a lot nicer than the ones portrayed in The Godfather movies. 

“We’ll help you, son,” Eddie’s heart felt warm at the nickname. “Everyone in here is wanted in a state or two, maybe even a country,” the boss laughed which made everyone else in the room follow suit. 

“Help me?” 

“Listen, I trust Rick. If he says you’re a good kid, then you’re a good kid. Anyways, we need another hand on deck and you’ll be the perfect person for it. You help me, and we keep you safe from the feds. Sound good?” The boss sat back in his chair with a smile waiting for a response from the younger man in front of him. 

“Yes,” Eddie exclaimed rather louder than intended. “Sorry, uhm, that would be great, sir.” 

“Look at you, already getting the hang of things,” the boss chuckled at the usage of the formal name. “Isn’t that right, boys?” 

Echoes of agreement bounced off the walls before another snap was heard and the lights went on and blinds opened up to reveal that about two dozen people were in a grand ballroom of sorts. There were beautiful paintings and crown moulding surrounding the walls. Eddie truly wasn’t sure where he was now. However, when he looked out a window, he saw that no other building was in its way. Meaning only one thing: this was the top floor — this was the penthouse he admired from sixty stories down. 

Oh God, what did he get himself into now? 

-:-:-:-:-

The main job description was just to watch the security cameras, scope the halls every hour, and follow his boss’ daughter around whenever she was going to university classes or going out into the city. It sounded easy enough. The head security guard explained it all to Eddie as they were walking towards the workers’ quarters which held everyone’s uniform. Every person had a different style of black and gray clothing. Although the boss really wanted everyone to coordinate, he still wanted his people to look good — and most importantly, normal as they walked around in the city. So quickly, they gave the newest employee a dark gray suit and a black button-down shirt to wear, as well as a spacious room he could clean himself up in. It was the most dapper Eddie has looked in his entire life. He truly couldn’t comprehend the way his heart was so conflicted with how amazing and weird everything is. 

After an hour, he got a knock on the door. It was the man who grabbed him by the shoulder earlier today. “So the Princess’ bodyguard, huh? Alotta pressure for the new kid,” the bleach blond man teased as he nodded his head to urge Eddie to follow him. 

“I thought I would be doing all the shitty jobs or something,” Eddie laughed. “And to think I thought I was gonna need bodyguards with my dream job.” 

“Did you wanna be a rockstar, Munson?” the man nudged his shoulder as he walked down the hall towards the stairs with Eddie. “Your hair sure gives it away.” 

“Come on, man. I can tell you listen to freak rock music too. You have more piercings than me,” the younger man noted as he looked up to see nearly four piercings on the taller man’s ear. 

It amazed Eddie how laid back everyone seemed to be when it was the house of such a powerful man. He has relationships with people all over the world: suppliers, other dealers, bankers, politicians. The Boss probably had enough connections to rival the President — maybe even the President was on his contact list too. Regardless, everything seemed to be so easy. Even talking to his peers was so much easier than talking to people at school. 

“The boss gets tickets all the time to concerts all over the world. If you mention your birthday to him, he’ll probably fly you out to whoever is playing that night.” 

“You’re shitting me,” Eddie gasped in disbelief as he walked down a large grand staircase. 

“Not at all, he does it like every other year for people, helps the morale.” The man stopped in the middle of the foyer where the front door was. “The name’s Garcia, by the way. I used to be the Princess’ bodyguard when she was a kid. But, now we all just take on different shifts.” 

“Oh, so it’ll just be now?” Eddie wondered. 

Garcia began to fix the folds of Eddie’s jacket, and ensured that no lint could be seen. For some reason, the former Hawkins resident felt like he gained two father figures today. “Yes, the boss wants one person to be head of her security detail. He was looking for someone her age too to make things less awkward if she had a man trailing next to her, or behind her in public.” 

“Cool, cool. Do I get a weapon or something? Like a stick or taser?” Eddie asked with focus and concern in his eyes. 

“You’ll get a taser, and we’ll teach you how to fight. But, honestly, you probably won’t need it,” Garcia smiled as he began to walk towards the library. 

“Why not? I feel like the Boss is Batman or something and has cool weapons,” Eddie followed behind with quick steps. “Oh—”

For a moment, Garcia stopped in front of the library doors. He looked at Eddie’s appearance one last time before knocking on the wood. Just like the rest of the house, even the mahogany door was grand, with gold decals of a family crest and door handles bigger than a regular person’s thigh. 

Everything is so beautiful, so nice, so calm. As he heard footsteps from the other side of the door, Eddie genuinely had high hopes that this was going to be one of the most easy-going jobs he has ever had. There would be no more running away from the police or sneaking around to get five dollars. However, he spoke a little too early, because everything was just the calm before the storm that ignited in his heart. As the library doors opened, Eddie’s heart raced at a million miles a minute; something it had not done in about an hour or so. 

There you were, the girl in front of the building who he bumped into. The girl he thought about as the most beautiful thing he has seen today — and it was only confirmed as he saw your eyes reflect the gold on the door. You are the reason behind his whole job. You are the princess. 

You’re his princess. 

“Mr. Garcia, you didn’t need to knock,” you quietly chuckled. “Would you like to — it’s you.” 

Eddie and you stared at one another for a few moments before Garcia spoke up to break the silent tension. “This is your new bodyguard, Eddie Munson. He’ll be escorting you to and from your university classes, as well as any time you need to go out of the house.” 

“All of the time?” you asked, inviting the two people into the library. 

“Yes, your father is going to need a larger security personnel for the next little while so we believe that one person to watch over you would be good,” Garcia smiled at you, before elbowing Eddie. 

“It’s an honour to serve you, m-miss.” The brunette wasn’t sure what to call you. Especially as you were surrounded by the beautiful books that he could only dream of reading, he wasn’t able to just call you the love of his life so prematurely. 

You giggled politely as you sat at the large table. Truthfully, you had to regain a bit of balance after having a slight shock of getting such a handsome person to join your father’s employees. Not that anyone was ugly; however, most of the people hired were older than you by many years. This was the first person you’ve met in any situation in your life who has made your heart feel so warm for so long. Earlier, you came to the library to hide away and try to subside your feelings with some studying. But, it looks like that’s not going to happen for a while. 

Maybe after this little meeting, you need to take a shower to scream into the abyss for a bit. 

For now, you would have to keep up appearances. 

“Mr. Munson, you don’t need to call me such a formal name. If you can think of a nickname, then I would prefer that,” you smiled. 

“Then, how about you call me Eddie?” The man thought for a second before speaking aloud again. “And I can call you Princess.” 

The lines between your eyebrows became more prominent as you gasped in slight disbelief. “Mr. Garcia, have you already called me that in front of him?” you pouted, making Eddie blush at the soft sound of your voice. 

“It suits you,” the older man chuckled. “Anyways, I should get going. How about you two mingle and get to know each other?” 

And with that, you and Eddie were left alone in the library. It’ll be the first of countless moments alone together; however, this one will be the one of the most memorable. As you didn’t realize that your hearts were beating as one in this vast library full of stories of love, friendship, and adventures beyond compare. Just like the one you were about to start with a few words.  “Would you like to sit and read with me?” you asked quietly, looking up at him with a small smile. 

“As long as you have some good books, then I’ll be quiet for at least an hour,” he said with a slightly teasing tone that resonated through your body. 

“The wall closest to the globe contains all the science fiction, fantasy, and adventure book genres,” you replied, as if you already knew him. 

Eddie was really going to love it here. It was the peace he needed after this Hell adjacent week. 

-:-:-:-:-

Over the next few weeks, the on-boarding process began for Eddie. In the early morning he would need to wake up before the sun even rose, in order to go through hours of training in case of emergencies. Being one to skip gym class because it felt pointless, Eddie felt like he was about to pass out at the end of each session with the various trainers. However, when it came to the moment you would greet him a good morning during breakfast — he swears that all of the body aches would go away in only a few syllables. 

A routine was set for the two of you: breakfast, drive to campus for any lectures, run any errands that were necessary, then head home to study some more and relax. If you were cooped up in one area of the house for the night, Eddie would be dismissed to train some more. For some reason, it felt like he was being trained to protect a royal. So he often wondered just how powerful your family is. He notices that everyday, you were always dressed in the finest fabrics, whilst your other classmates would be dressed in regular clothing. Or even the food served in the house to all workers and the family, was nicer than anything he had back home — there was a time you ate an apple and it looked right out of a magazine. But, the craziest thing was that whenever you walked into a store to buy something small for yourself, or a gift for someone else; the entire store would be shut down even if you gave no warning in advance. If this was the influence you had, Eddie could barely imagine what it would be like if you were shopping alongside your father. 

So maybe the training on how to swim better, fight at least three guys at once, first aid, and tricks to ensure that the car was never followed, was not exactly unnecessary at all. Not like gym class was, at least. Going from Hawkins to here was such a huge hurdle to get past physically. 

But, every day would end off with you smiling at him before you fell asleep, and the former Dealer swears that it’s all worth it for that sweet moment. 

“I’m going to head to bed now, Eddie. Hope your training went well,” you said as he was leaving the fitness area your father built. 

“Right, u-uhm, let me know if you need anything then,” he breathed out. 

“Everything should be fine. As long as you don’t accidentally blast Black Sabbath like you did the other night,” you giggled sweetly. 

Three nights ago, when he hit the gym and thought everyone was asleep, Eddie started playing music on the stereo; however, the play button is right next to the button that is attached to every speaker in the house. Well, let’s just say that not everyone wants to wake up at two in the morning to Ozzy’s voice like a clock alarm that didn’t stop ringing. Luckily, the boss wasn’t home to stomp around the house to turn off the music, or else Eddie probably would not have a job at this very moment.

“No music tonight, I gotta be on high alert with everyone away,” Eddie chuckled as he started to walk you to your bedroom. 

“Only in your first month and you’re already head security for the house tonight,” you nudged his shoulder lightly. 

“That’s only because they’re all at that meeting with your father’s associates. I’m kinda freaking out over here, Princess.” 

In truth, there were times your father would make you go to another state during these meetings. He always feared that someone would target the house while he was away. But, after years of secretive missions and being on the good side of the majority of the competitors, the fear went away. Regardless, Eddie was still on edge right now. “You’ll be just fine. I promise not to do anything drastic for the next twelve hours,” you offered the man next to you a sweet smile which he treasured. 

“No jumping from balcony to balcony, or reaching high shelves, or using scissors that are too sharp.” Eddie sarcastically said as the two of you reached your bedroom door. 

“I’ll try my best not to do that,” you giggled as you opened the door to your room slowly. The handle was held tightly in your hand, almost like you were anxious to do something. Your bodyguard noticed it, but brushed it off as nerves regarding an exam you’ve been studying for. “Good night, Mr. Mu—Eddie.” 

“Sweet dreams, Princess.” 

With that, you closed the door behind you and Eddie was left on his lonesome to walk towards the security footage room to watch over the cameras for the night. Even during regular days, not much would happen in the first place. You were always one to stay in your room to study and spend most of the evening, maybe head to the library to use the new computer and printer down there, or sit in the terrace to paint. In truth, the most dangerous situation you could possibly put yourself in is a really bad paper cut, or whenever you cut up fruit in the kitchen — even then, you would use a regular dinner knife so the chance of injury was minimal. Overall, Eddie thought his job was pretty easy. Although, a part of him misses chasing the rockstar dream; but, this is more than enough thrill whilst he kept a low profile. 

Tonight, he was even told to just sit in the security room and just make rounds every hour to see if you and the other workers in the house were alright. But, it was when he heard a weird cry echoing from the window, the man looked outside to see what could be happening. It sounded like a pattern of cries and groans coming from above: your room to be exact. 

Fuck. 

Of course, the one time he’s left in charge, you got yourself hurt. Eddie was already preparing himself for the berating from the head security guards for letting the precious daughter of the Boss to be wounded in her own room. And so, with a slight panic, he began to run up the stairs and head to your room at the end of the hall. The door was closed and there wasn’t any glow of a light being on from behind the door. But, the sounds were getting louder, there was even a repetitive creaking noise. Could you be in so much agony that you were trembling on the bed? The worst thoughts ran through Eddie’s head as he reached for the door handle and twisted it open. 

It was dark, only the soft glow of a lava lamp barely lighting the room and reflecting on your soft skin. For a moment, Eddie had to squint to see the whole visual. When he did, he swore his heart dropped. 

There you were, like a glowing goddess, straddling a pillow, naked, and rocking against it harshly. Your hands were on the headboard for more leverage, causing it to hit the wall furthest away from the door. Just seeing your back was already enough for Eddie to feel weak at his knees. If he moved his head slightly, he could see your reflection in the mirror next to your bed, which showed a very focused face. Combine that with the sound of soft moans and whimpers echoing through the air. It was a sight for sore eyes. 

What made the image a thousand times more pornographic was the slight hum coming from your bed. It was a bit mechanical and had a slight pattern to it too that sounded familiar to Eddie. 

He really wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. There was one side of him that told him to walk away and forget about it. It’s not like he was an angel every other night before bed too. But, God, he knows that you have never been on a date or had a boyfriend before — you admitted it once when he joked around with you in the car, asking if he needed to third wheel any date that you are asked out on. But, you profusely said no and that he doesn’t need to prepare for that since it has never happened yet and may not happen for a while. The dirtiest of thoughts ran through Eddie’s mind as he thought about how sweet you were, and how you were absolutely losing your calm demeanor as you continued to hump and moan atop your bed. He began to wonder what it would be like to help you out with your little workout. You seemed to be a bit frustrated; whispering ‘it’s not working’ over and over. 

Eddie would definitely help you make it work, there was no doubt about that. However, that would cross more lines than an HR department could even think of. So, he moved away slowly; however, the sound of the floorboards creaking echoed so loudly that it made you and him freeze every muscle in your bodies. 

Something in you said to grab your blanket and put it over your shoulders; whilst Eddie’s body seemed to think for itself. Instead of running away and pretending that nothing happened, he walked into your room, making sure to close the door quietly afterwards. 

“Does daddy know about your little toy?” he said, walking towards the bed. 

“E-Eddie—” you gasped, turning your body around to catch his eye before freezing in place. The pillow between your legs was being squished so much that it caused the little piece of vibrating plastic to press firmly on your clit beautifully. 

You didn’t know whether to cry out of embarrassment or scream from the pure ecstasy of the moment. 

“And here I thought you were hurt. Your cries could be heard all the way downstairs. But they don’t seem like bad ones,” the chuckle that escaped his throat was deep and resonated throughout your entire body. 

“You heard?” it was barely a whisper that fell from your lips. Your eyes followed his figure as he came to kneel next to your bed. Although you were covering yourself with a blanket; you still felt so exposed, yet excited simultaneously. 

The man looked up at you as he placed a gentle hand on your exposed left thigh. “Next time, don’t open your window when you wanna be a naughty girl.” 

It was all Eddie's fault in your opinion. Honestly, ever since he began working for your father, things have been the opposite of normal. The other bodyguards would drive you to college to attend whatever class was on the schedule, then drive you home so that you didn’t need to take a taxi. Maybe they would bring you to the store if you needed to buy school supplies or a gift for someone’s birthday. But, other than that, you were content with the schedule that you had gotten used to. All of them were old, close to your father’s age, and boring — to be completely frank. However, when you were eating breakfast one day and your father mentioned the news of wanting a new bodyguard on the roster, there was no inkling in your mind that he was going to be hiring someone who was your age. No need to get started on the way all the heat in your body rushed to your face when you first saw him. Anyways, the way you always choked on your cereal whenever Eddie would walk into the dining room everyday to greet you with a good morning before telling you it was time to leave, was more than enough of a reaction to prove that you had a tiny crush on the man. 

Eddie just had to call you ‘Princess’ jokingly, brush his hand on your waist whenever he needed to guide you around, whisper quietly in your ear when you two were walking to the car — as if he couldn’t say it out loud like a normal person. Every single one of those actions were so sweet, something you had never experienced before. He was so different than your sheltered-self, and you easily fell for the care-free man who acted as mature as possible when the other security guards were around. 

For countless nights you wondered what it would be like if his hands brushed a little lower than your waist, or if he could call you sweet pet names in different scenarios. Mostly, you dreamt about him being your ride home in more ways than one. 

It was so perverted to even think of someone like that, let alone a man who worked for your father. But, you wanted to feel good, needed it even. So many of your friends talked about hooking up with different guys across campus and how it helped with stress-relief during exams. A part of you wished you had the courage to call Eddie over to help you during your study breaks. Instead, you chose to fill your free time with a romance book and the toy a friend gave you last week. 

Guilt started to build within you now. Your thoughts were so impure, your actions even more so. But, what made you feel guiltiest of all was that you were caught in the act the very first time you decided to commit the act in the first place. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” you whispered, noticing that he moved to sit on the bed facing you. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said sweetly. Eddie put a soft hand on your chin to try and get you to look him in the eye. But, truly, he wanted to see how beautiful they could be with the moonlight in them. 

Pushing yourself back, you moved from his touch. “This is so embarrassing.” 

It became more embarrassing when the sound of vibrations suddenly became louder and stronger because of the change in angle. You felt the impact right on your sensitive clit. It became a lot more painful to keep down just how good you were starting to truly feel. Eddie’s touch only helped you reach your end goal faster. 

The man in front of you had the same thought, but decided to tease you sweetly. “Why so? Is it because I caught you? No, I think you like that, sweet girl,” he said whilst inching his face closer to yours, a calloused hand massaging your left thigh simultaneously. “Or is it because you’ve been trying to make yourself cum all night with no avail?” 

“How did you—” 

“Oh, I would know. There was no scream, no muffled noises of you moaning into your pillow, no heavy breaths that went silent for a moment. Look at you now, you didn’t even take your pretty pussy off this toy the second you saw me,” he said. His hand found its way to your inner thigh, barely touching your dripping heat. However, Eddie did feel the cotton of the pillow and how soaked it was from all your actions earlier tonight. 

In truth, most of it was because of him. Not only the imaginary version in your perverted dreams; but also the continuous touches through the conversation that electrocuted all your senses and went straight to your pussy. Then, there was the fact that Eddie spoke with his lips so close to yours. Every syllable caused the lightest pressure on your glossy lips. Trying not to give in to both of your desires to lean in was the most difficult task of the night. 

“Help me,” you whimpered, the vibrations from the toy getting stronger now. 

“What was that?” he teased, a hand massaging further up your left thigh. 

“Help me, Eddie. I need you to help me so badly.” The words fell from your lips desperately, sounding as if you were about to cry. 

However, the man in front of you kissed your cheek sweetly before leaning back against the headboard. He noticed the way you shivered slightly at the cold air — your blanket only covering your chest and stomach mainly, as it fell from your shoulders a bit. Knowing that you were in such a naughty state in comparison to what you normally portrayed yourself as, was absolutely arousing to Eddie. He didn’t even hide his growing hardness beneath his black dress pants. 

You have never thanked the tailor your father hired more in your entire life. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said in a deep tone. 

 “Well, I opened this toy today and read all the instructions,” you answered truthfully whilst clutching the blanket closer to your body. “After following everything to a tee, I still don’t think I’m doing this right.” 

“You seemed to be having fun along the way,” he teased as he heard you whimper between some of your words. 

“I suppose so,” you nodded along, moving your hips slightly as he spoke to you.  

“So what’s stopping you?” 

In truth, you were on the edge of three things: annoyance, an orgasm, and annoyance due to not having an orgasm. So your body tensed up a bit, causing the toy to be pressed up against your clit even more — it made you whine a bit as you said, “more like who.” 

“Well, if it’s my fault I guess I have to help you now. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” Eddie teased, bringing up both hands to cup your face. 

“Please,” you whispered. 

Then, both of you leaned forward at once, capturing each other’s lips in a beautiful kiss that could hardly be seen as chaste. It was a kiss that had been waiting to happen for weeks. To say that this is what dreams were made of would be an understatement. For countless nights, Eddie has woken up in a sweat as he pictured your soft lips on his own, and other parts of his body too. 

“You look like an angel, holy fuck,” Eddie whispered his thoughts aloud as he brought his right hand down to push the blanket away, whilst his right hand involuntarily started to move on its own to grasp your waist and urge it to move atop the vibrator.

“Feels nice when you do that,” you sweetly giggled and moaned. 

“How do you like this?” He asked, squeezing your nipple between two fingers. “Such pretty tits, they’re begging to be sucked on. You’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Y-yes, please.”

They’ve been hard all evening from a mixture of the cold and your intimate thoughts. However, just thinking about Eddie sucking on them was making you clench between your legs. Even these few moments with your bodyguard were much more successful in your pursuit of a climax than what you’ve experienced on your own. 

“Always so polite,” he teased in a voice that vibrated through your body alongside the piece of plastic on your clit. Your hands were on his neck even as he moved down towards your breasts, noting how Eddie really enjoyed it when you lightly tugged on his hair. 

“O-off, take this off,” you tugged on the back of his shirt this time. 

“You know what you want, huh?” 

“Y-yeah,” you said shyly as he sweetly teased you. 

You had always admired Eddie’s tattoos and muscles. But that was something you saw under the flourescent lights of the gym. This time, as he sat in front of you with the glow of your lamp next to him — he was genuinely glowing. Plus, the fact that he was wearing extremely well-fitted pants made him look like he was right out of those fashion magazines where they tried to showcase the pants and abs of the model. Only, Eddie looked so much more god-like than them. 

“Move your hips, doll. Come on, you can take it, I know you want that too,” the man whispered upon your lips after taking off his shirt and then moved his way down to kiss your hardened nipples. 

“It’s so strong, you’re so strong,” referring to the toy’s strengthening vibrations and him. But, you let your body move on its own to whatever felt right. 

The toy was doing a little pattern beneath you, so you moved forwards and backwards in order to see if you could match the intensity of it. Eddie got closer to you, his knee going on top of the pillow and right in between your legs. If he moved it an inch closer to your body, he would be able to move the toy slightly and see your reactions. And so, he did, in between kisses — wanting to drink up your moans of ecstasy, then massaging your tongue with his every time you gasped in pleasure. 

This was the most intense moment you’ve ever experienced with another man. When you lost your virginity a few years ago, it was a one and done type of situation for the guy. While you laid there wanting to crave more, he told you how good you were, then left for the night. So later, even all of the times you’ve tried to use a shower head or your fingers, nothing has ever made you feel this way. You could nearly cry as the amount of vibrations going through your body increased. 

Once Eddie began to kiss down your neck and you tugged the back of his hair without realizing it, he said, “feisty girl.” 

“Can you please touch me there—ah,” you moaned as Eddie bit your neck 

“I can’t do that, sweetheart. You have to do this for yourself. Give into all your needs and desires, self-pleasure is one of the greatest things in the world,” Eddie continued to tease you as his hands roamed your body. 

When his hands landed on your hips, he started to help rock them for you. The vibrations felt so good that you started to tremble; however, something within you wanted so badly to see him shiver as well. So, you moved your own hands slowly — from his shoulders to his stomach, then brushed over his obvious hardness, all before landing on his thigh that was between your legs. “B-but, please —”

“So needy, huh?” Eddie could see the desperation in your nearly tear-filled eyes. “You’re soaking the pillow too.” 

“Too strong,” you nearly screamed out as the man before you moved the pillow slightly to angle the toy on another part of your clit. 

“Go on, you can do it, Princess.”  

“Keep touching me, I need you to, please.” This time, you kissed his neck and began to suck on his pulse point; copying what he was doing to you earlier. 

Fuck — you were going to kill him tonight. If not you, then the way he’s about to cum in his pants would surely knock him out. 

“Will do, just keep going,” Eddie grunted before gently pulling you off of his neck in order to look you in the eyes. “Do what feels right. Tell me what you were doing before I came here,” he kissed you gently as you moaned into his mouth again since a wave of pleasure took over. 

“I-I thought you were busy, then, I started reading this book. It talks about the couple h-having relations.”

“Sex?” he chuckled as you got shy now of all times. 

“Yes, uh-uhm, and then I started to feel warm right here,” you grabbed his wrist and dragged it towards your core. Eddie knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Oh, my naughty girl. This spot?” 

With his ringed-fingers he brushed them over your clit quickly because you deserved a little treat. But, he went further down to touch the toy and move it close and away from your clit at a massaging pattern. He adored how wet you were, and it took every ounce of strength within the man not to lay you down and have a taste until you could orgasm in his mouth instead. Alas, that was for another time. For now, he would memorize the feeling of your slick pussy for when he took care of his problem later. For now, he would treasure every time you whimpered through swollen lips because it was his mouth that helped ruin your lipstick. 

“Yes,” you whispered as you grasped his arm for balance. “And then I just put my toy on top of the pillow because my friends say they love using their pillow to r-ride.” 

“Look at you, already a pro,” he teasingly smiled.

“Eddie,” you moaned louder as you grounded your hips against the toy and pillow. “I wanna ride you so bad. I’ve always wanted to try this position when I had sex for the first time, but the guy never let me,” you continued your little pillow humping confessional.

“He’s an asshole, I would let you ride me until your thighs gave in,” Eddie said with a jealous tone. He really shouldn’t have been because you weren’t his partner. You were also the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, the fact shouldn’t have surprised him so much. However, knowing that another man only wanted to focus on his own pleasure, made Eddie want to scoff. 

Now, you can’t say the first guy was bad at all — he was just never able to get you to where you really needed to go. You never arched your back towards the ceiling because you couldn’t handle the throbbing between your legs; you never had to bite your lip to suppress a moan that would echo through the halls because he didn’t do much to make you be loud; you never scratched his back with your perfectly manicured nails because you needed to let out your waves of pleasure. Not with Eddie though, if anything, he was going to have a scratch or five on different parts of his skin for the next little while. You prayed that no one would notice it if they were training together; however, that was a worry for another time. All you wanted to think about now were the upcoming vibrations and how it would feel when you orgasm for the first time. 

“Will you cum with me, Eddie? I’m so lonely,” you pouted, wanting him to feel pleasure just as much as you were.  

“Keep going, just like that,” Eddie nodded, then leaned back onto the headboard to admire you in the final minutes before your climax. 

The whine from your throat hurt the man as you didn’t feel the warmth of his skin anymore. You leaned your hands on the pillow for leverage, moving your hips harshly to feel an immense level of pleasure in front of him. But, you craved Eddie’s touch so badly that you bit your lip and rested a hand on his knee and squeezed it every time the vibrations became too much. 

“Help,” you whispered. 

“God, you’re so beautiful like this,” Eddie groaned as he massaged his hand over his clothed-hardness. “Is your pussy throbbing while you ride your pretty little toy?” 

“So much,” the whimper fell from your lips as you continued to slowly thrust against the toy imagining what it would be like if it was Eddie beneath you and not a small piece of plastic. 

“I can't wait until I stretch you out. You’d take me like a champ.” 

Right then, Eddie unbuckled his pants just enough for you to see that he hadn’t been wearing any boxers beneath. The trail of hair leading towards his hardness was tantalizing, nearly a guide along with his muscles to point to the place you were so curious about. 

Once he noticed that you were hypnotized at the thought of what was going to happen next, the man in front of you stopped his movements to look you in the eyes then roam them down to your core. You got the message and wanted to give your bodyguard a little show. With confidence taking over your body, you sat back up and put both hands on your thighs. Eddie swears that this was a pose right out of his favourite porn magazine — only you looked a thousand times better with swollen lips and sweat glistening your skin in the dimly-lit room.  

“I’d like that a lot,” you whispered in between bounces. 

“Prove it for me, squeeze your tits for me,” Eddie urged you to do so, moving his hands to push his dress pants further down. Just the short glimpse of his cock was enough motivation for you to touch your hardened nipples in front of him. 

“Oh, oh,” you giggled at how good it felt. 

“Feels nice, right?” the man in front of you finally put his hands around his cock and you swear your mouth started to water at the sight. 

Throughout your life, you always giggled alongside any friends at a party who mentioned hookups or flings — all you could ever do was imagine how things looked and felt though, since most of what you did with your previous partner was in the dark and done quickly in the middle of the night. Never once did you think that they were being honest when they talked about the length and girth of the different members they’ve seen.

Oh, how wrong you were. 

Now, as you stared at Eddie in awe of the size of him, you were so wrong to think that they could be exaggerating. Some guys really did have the cock that dirty dreams were made of. As Eddie massaged himself in front of you, you noticed the small details about him. From the colour, to the vein, to the way his balls looked so squishy and large as they laid on his thighs. Fuck, you really did feel like a pervert staring at it for so long and imagining how it would feel like if he was stretching you out right now. Instead, your pussy throbbed at the thought, making you knead your breasts harder and push yourself further upon the vibrator beneath you. 

“I think I like your mouth more,” you said in your trance, knowing your fingers weren’t as soft as his tongue. 

“Fuck,” Eddie whimpered as he marched his hands’ movements with your bounces on the pillow. “Are you close?” 

“Yeah, I think so—ah,” you reached one hand to lay on his knee for leverage as he moved closer to you so that he could massage your thigh with his free hand. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Come all over your pillow and you’ll get a kiss,” Eddie’s breath tingled on your lips as he teased you, his mouth so close to yours whilst his hand got closer to your core. 

You pouted as he began to kiss your cheek and neck but never your needy lips. But, you didn’t have time to be slightly sad, as you felt Eddie’s fingers reach your centre and push the toy onto you. Moans and whines fell from your throat simultaneously as everything began to work in tandem to make you climax — one that you’ve been craving for so long. 

“It’s too much,” you whispered as you felt yourself clench harder and harder, as if your body was getting ready for something.  

“Almost there,” Eddie said in a deep voice into your ear. “I got you,” he said as he pushed it again and again, trying to match it with the hand on his cock. 

The man was so close to orgasming right now, his imagination allowing him to feel your slickness on him. Eddie was chanting a prayer in his head that he could hold on until you came first. In truth, he wanted the image of you finding the climax of your pleasure to be burned into his brain forever. And so, he did everything he could to help you get there — you so desperately needed it. With kisses to your neck, his hand now on your hip to help you ride out your incoming orgasm; you came. Hard. 

Moans of ecstasy filled the room as you found your bliss next to him. Eddie made the fist around his cock harder to imagine it was you who was clenching around him right now. Then, your voice whispered above him. 

“Kiss me, please—” 

“So good, so beautiful,” Eddie obliged happily. “Fuck, how are you glowing right now?” 

“Eddie, more,” you begged into his lips. 

“I-I, fuck , you’re—” it was Eddie’s turn to become incoherent as he could feel his climax coming. 

You smiled on his lips, slowing your own movements now to watch him. “Are you gonna cum for me too, Eddie?” 

That was it. 

One look in your eyes and those words falling from your lips was more than enough for him to cum in his hand. You both stayed there, sitting up and kissing each other’s lips sweetly as you both basked in the post-climax bliss. 

Eddie thanked God that you had a pretty tissue box on your bedside table, which he was able to use to clean himself up a bit, before holding your face as he kissed you. He noticed that you kept on whimpering and moaning into the kiss still; however, you tried to lift your body up from the pillow. You were so sensitive down there now, that although the vibrations felt so nice, you were getting a bit tired from the previous experience. 

So, with one hand, Eddie took out the toy from underneath you and turned it off whilst still kissing you. 

“I’ve dreamed about this a million times before and it’s better than I ever could have imagined,” he said into your lips, and then looked down to see the little pink piece of plastic that brought you to orgasm. It was soaked with all your juices, and Eddie’s intrusive thoughts told him to have a taste. But your soft voice brought him out of a haze. 

“You dream about me?” 

“Every night,” he smiled before laying the toy on the bedside table and involuntarily licking one of his fingers. 

“Am I dreaming now?” you lightly gasped at his actions. 

The man savoured the taste quickly before kissing you again and laying you down on the fluffy pillows. “Not at all.” 

As you lay on the bed on top of light grey sheets, Eddie swears that you are officially the closest to an angel he has ever stood near. The soft light reflecting on your sheets and skin made you look like you were glowing, with a halo on your head as you basked in the post-orgasmic bliss. The moment you looked up at him with soft eyes, he promised himself that he would do anything to experience this moment over and over. 

With a touch to the side of his face, you smiled at the way his eyes focused on everything about you, just as you did the same. “Would what we did tonight happen in a wet dream? Because it sure does feel that way,” you giggled as you got comfortable with him laying slightly on top of you.  

“Well, then let me help clean you up,” Eddie kissed you deeply again, adoring the way this angle allowed him to hold your body, and feel every time you arched your back up slightly to feel each other’s skin again. When you moaned into his mouth after he squeezed your ass gently, Eddie smiled against your lips. 

“I can grab a towel from the washroom,” you whispered as he moved down to kiss your neck, a move he found you loved so much that it made your hips meet up to massage your heat against his thigh for some semblance of extra relief. 

“No, no, we don’t need that just yet,” he mentioned as his voice vibrated through your entire body. The second the words were said, Eddie began to allow his lips to roam down your body, kissing your stomach before looking up at you. “Because I’ve dreamed about kissing you in one other place, only if you would want me to, of course.” 

It was in that moment that you both realized that dreams had their own way of coming true, and it was all part of fate's plan. If someone were to tell the former Dealer that after years of living in a town he wanted to run away from, he was able to do so and find a high-job, he would never believe you. If the reason he was able to find someone he found peace with, was all because of a slip of paper with an address, he would never believe you. That although, right now, as you lay in bed with him, he thought he was going to wake up from one of the greatest dreams he has ever had. Yet, he wasn't dreaming in the slightest. This was his real life, a life he was able to treasure all thanks to a book he found in a cabin on the lake. 

-:-:-:-:-

[aishabellasbigblogofeverything]

My post about hating the Barbie movie and how it actually spat in the face of feminism and all that the franchise stands for is done and dusted, I'm afraid, but that being said there are still some points I left out of it that I would like to address, and I will do so here:

The movie portraying women as hopeless endless victims who have no hopes of succeeding or getting what they want out of life is bad enough, but there's a brief blink-and-you'll-miss it scene where Barbie is taking Gloria and Sasha back to Barbieland, and as they're on the spaceship, she says to them that women control everything and have all social and political power, which is fine...but THEN she goes "basically everything men do in your world, women do in ours" and that...that line just makes me so appalled and angry I could SPIT. Like you're really spelling out that you think women in the real world have no power or control in any aspect of society? I understand that it's supposed to be "commentary"(it's not good commentary tho) and that the real world IS a patriarchy, but we HAVE women in power in our world too! We HAVE female Supreme Court Justices! We HAVE women in high office! We HAVE female mayors and CEOs! We HAVE women in positions of power and leadership, period! And yet Barbie creates this illusion that women in our world such as Sasha and Gloria would have NO knowledge of or point of reference for women in power who do any important shit at all; it's completely fucking absurd. But then again, this movie was written and directed by a white feminist. A white feminist, who, like all white feminists, has a complete miserable victimhood/defeatist complex. So of course she projects it onto her female characters(even female characters of color, who are ofc SUPPOSED to be more sad and let-down than SHE is!), like the sad, pathetic fuck she is. And y'all wonder why I hate persecution flips so much. We need to shove that bullshit trope six feet under. If you want to tell a story about the patriarchy, then FUCK, WRITE ABOUT THE ACTUAL GODDAMN PATRIARCHY!!! Don't just do this nonsense "uwu what if men were the oppressed ones and women were the privileged--" no. Stop. Cut it the fuck out. This is getting ridiculous.

This part is probably incidental but fuck that, I'm still gonna knock it. Sasha and Gloria never actually get to experience the matriarchal utopia, and I just find that so depressing. Despite the bleak and frankly miserable lives that they lead, they never get to experience the escapist freedom of living in a society in which they are in charge, where womanhood isn't looked down upon and is in fact honored, where they have power and aren't in danger of being stalked, followed, or killed by men just for walking down the street. They leave their patriarchal world, hoping to see a world that is better, and instead enter a world that is just as bad and equally as patriarchal as the one they tried to escape from. It's truly depressing, especially for Gloria who specifically wanted to get away from her anxieties with real life and just have fun with her daughter for a bit. Instead she has to be confronted with ANOTHER patriarchy, watch the childhood doll she loved and played with have a panic attack and give up on life just like she did, and then give her infamous, cliche, and paint by numbers "being a woman is suffering" corny as hell speech. Before reinventing the matriarchy and getting her power back only by leaning in to patriarchal stereotypes about women's bodies and sexualities. And then leaving back for her regular patriarchy world without getting to experience any of it. It's almost like the movie was literally saying that women will never be able to free themselves from patriarchy and that a better world than this one does not exist. Patriarchy is insurmountable and all-prevailing, says this movie. It's truly tragic.

And honestly, with regards to that shitty ass clusterfuck of a speech, isn't it like, so totes ironic, that part of Gloria's speech is her complaining that women have to apologize for men's bad behavior...only for the "happy" ending of the movie to involve BARBIE HAVING TO APOLOGIZE FOR KEN'S BAD BEHAVIOR?!?!!??!?! Like no one fact-checked that shit and went "wait, something ain't right"? Are you fucking kidding me?!?!?!?!?! I hate that scene with every fiber of my being and realizing this makes me hate it even more now. Just, ugh.

Tldr: Fuck this movie, but then again, I've said that shit like...several times before. lol.

[secretmellowblog]

I’m not coherent but there’s something fascinating about the way Javert’s inability to lie goes from being a source of strength to a source of deep vulnerability.

In earlier chapters Javert’s honesty grants him confidence and strength:

“He raised his head with the intrepid serenity of a man who has never lied.”

But after the barricades, his inability to lie makes him vulnerable around Jean Valjean— he struggles to lie to him and conceal how much he’s affected him, unable to confess his emotions to Jean Valjean because he can’t confess them to himself.

He tries to pretend nothing has changed between himself and Jean Valjean, but refers to Jean Valjean with the formal “you” without being aware of it. He gets instantly emotional the moment he recognizes Jean Valjean outside the sewers, in a way that he was not when he recognized Jean Valjean at the barricades. He tries to lie that he will wait for Jean Valjean in the street and be there to arrest him, but telling that lie seems to physically pain him, and Jean Valjean almost doesn’t believe him:

He added with a strange expression, and as though he were exerting an effort in speaking in this manner:

“I will wait for you here.”

Jean Valjean looked at Javert. This mode of procedure was but little in accord with Javert’s habits.

There’s a line in his resignation in Montreuil sur Mer that describes Javert’s eyes as being so clear that you can see all the way down to the very bottom of his conscience— which is so funny to me. That is a TERRIBLE trait for a police spy. Being so honest that people can see your entire soul is a HORRIBLE spy trait. Who made this man a spy. Who sent him to the barricades.

There’s a weird paradox to Javert’s honesty. He is a “mouchard”/police spy who uses the word “mouchard” as an insult, to describe the kind of liar he doesn’t want to be— and whose coworkers have to carefully leave him out of their corruption schemes because he wouldn’t stand any kind of dishonesty. At the barricades he’s easily captured after revealing his full name address and social security number to a question a better spy could’ve lied their way out of. He’s just not willing to lie, at all, for any reason— even though it’s his job. When he has to follow orders, he’ll gaslight himself into believing incorrect information (ex. “Champmathieu is Valjean”) rather than lie.

Post-barricades Javert is the only time we *really* see Javert struggling to lie to someone else that he feels things he does not feel, and believes things he does not believe…and it’s kinda endearing how he’s so bad at it. He sucks at it a lot.

And that’s just really fascinating, as a character note?

Javert never lied because he was always “irreproachable,” and felt that he had nothing to hide. Whenever he did commit infractions, he would honestly confess his failures and demand punishment. He’s always been stoic and calm, but he’s also always been so transparently honest you can see to the bottom of his conscience.

But when he’s no longer “irreproachable,” and when has things to hide— his honesty becomes this weird source of vulnerability.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

32 - Peeking the Realms Woes

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 15.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, body shaming, derogatory language, mild descriptions of blood and gore, references to past torture/rape, past character death, smut, public sex, p in v, slight exhibitionism

Notes: If you're hungry for extra content, at the top of the masterlist there are 4 oneshots which are side companion pieces. All canon to the plot but just did not fit into any main story chapter. There's 2 prequel esque chapters, one smut based chapter set in an ambiguous point in the story, and a nsfw alphabet. Just if anyone's curious! Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

You had never walked and travelled lands as something called a Queen in any times but war. Not for a second in the Westlands did you nor Robb go anywhere without a number of guard, being in war torn enemy territory. But you also had an army camp anywhere between twenty to thirty thousand depending on where exactly your men were stationed at. You were always around a vast number of soldiers and guard.

In a similar fashion, you were somewhat used to it in Kings Landing. Either you had a flock of hens chattering about behind you at Cersei's insistence of giving you handmaidens. Or you had a guard with you most typically when travelling the streets beyond the Red Keep to the docks and waters but you also lived in a city with what now was likely close to a million people. It was normal to have a guard of at least one.

But here? In the North? It was odd. Trying to implore them to keep their distance most of the time as you appreciated the quiet. Jon had discussed it with Theon, where he felt he fit here now more and gave him his full trust to lead as the Queen's Captain of the Guard. Acting the one in charge knowing exactly when to force them to give you that quiet. It was not a long trip to get here, leaving early and not caring to stop until you reached it, but as soon as you did, they were allowed to stay guard and keep their eyes out but you were thankful Theon knew to force them to give space to what was unfolding.

The raven was simple, coming from Castle Black addressed to you specifically and the moment you had read it, a weight hit you once more. Looking at maps of the land to connect the paths of where exactly to go, knowing it would be a rather simple path to get there if they let you go at the speed you needed to get there quick. Jon was the one who insisted to send people with you, and Theon recognizing the protest about to come from you as he spoke up about gathering a few guards and himself. You had leaned somewhat against the table in a moment alone with a playful raise of one eyebrow, “I know it is a hard thing for you to imagine, but I think I can manage one teenage boy on my own.”

He had all but yanked you into his front at that one, a dark tease in his eyes with a tone that of an playful condescension. “How well did that go for you, when I was the teenage boy?”

Crossing your arms best you could in the space between you, your tone was flat and almost made the playfulness in his grow. “Most boys don't throw girls up against trees to ravage them.” Narrowing his own eyes he leaned down more into your face, feeling his breath dance along his skin as he questioned the word ravage. It was your turn to smirk as his face fell flat. “Oh, so if that wasn't my first kiss you're saying you would have had the restraint not to do anything more?”

His silence almost made you laugh, both of you knowing Jon had no rebuttal to such an accusation.

But it was now as you slowly walked through the snow looking at the remains of once was, and you once more could envision exactly what had taken place here. You knew too well what war looked like and it was easy to see how such a simple village was left in tatters and the remains frozen in time to remind of the pain. If any but him had been left alive, they ran and never returned to this place.

The homes were all small and quaint, much of the decaying remains of tools and lands told you much of their lives and work were outdoors together as a community instead of singular. It made it easy to target, and you knew that's why it would have been picked. It was a village of innocent people and such an atrocity was supposed to draw the Nights Watch out, as was the attack on Mole's Town.

Slaughter innocents to draw the good men out to avenge them, but they knew better and forced the wildling group to them instead. A fight which beyond North was stopped before it ever began with the help of the Baratheon army, but it was Jon's leadership that held off the entire fight from ending before it begun with the ones coming south.

But, that didn't mean the cost of getting them there wasn't devastating.

By the time you had seen Olly, you had such an imagine painted that you knew only agony would be across his heart once reaching where he stood. His back to you as there was one area he hadn't moved from since you arrived, and his eyes likely rarely blinked looking to it. Not easy to see through the snow and ice covering, but it was the remains of bodies. Winter had encroached on them early and what should have decayed to bones was left stuck frozen and the evidence of their use haunting.

No doubt he heard you approach, but it was his pain to address, not yours to guide. You dared not think about how long he had been here waiting, or the heaviness in your heart at how he knew you would come without question. Coming up to his side, you stood close and watched as he did. He had told you what the threat one of them made was, and the degree of mutilation you knew in some mercy was done after death. Easier to carve into a body to eat if they aren't alive to fight back.

You were both quiet for a long time, and when words finally spoke, it was with a shaking breathe stemming from such a heavy heart did Olly finally find the right words to form. “He wasn't the first person I killed.” Your face didn't shift at all, but he knew to elaborate anyways. “Jon. He was the first that meant anything to me...but I killed someone before. The woman who killed my father.”

His eyes were filled already with tears wanting to fall and no doubt the crack in his voice as he continued, threatened to extend to such watering. “None of us knew they were even there until she killed him. Fell to the ground right beside me, he was already dead before I even knew what had happened to him..and then I looked over and saw her..there was nothing. Nothing in her eyes, she shot him in the neck and didn't even care one bit about it. Just moved on to everyone else..”

Stepping forward, Olly knelt down to the frozen pile as you stepped with him, kneeling as well to stay right by his side with a dutifully quiet listening. “The last thing my mother ever said to me, she just looked at me yelled for me to hide, kept telling me to hide and the second I ran..I didn't see them do it but I heard her scream..”

His hand reached out to something, running over the snow before dropping down now as the tears let themselves fall loose along his cheek. “They attacked us at Castle Black and I shot arrows into her back. I was scared the whole fight..but then I saw her, holding an arrow up and she was going to kill Jon..but then he saw me, and he trusted me to do it. He trusted me to save his life that night, and that was how I repayed her. I wanted her to know what it felt like, the way my father died not seeing it coming..but it didn't hurt. It didn't feel bad not the way it felt when..” His cracked voice fading away, you both knew the words going unsaid.

You looked over to him, eyes flickering away narrowed in thought before looking back. You knew Olly could see you were looking at him, but you didn't beckon him to face you. “I didn't know anything about the first man I killed.” His brows narrowed but he wiped at his tears with the back of his hand but more came anyways in small, silent drops. “Didn't know his name, who he was, barley what he looked like.” Finally his head turned to yours, and there was a long passed distance in your eyes fading out. “I shoved a dagger into his neck and after he fell to the ground, I never thought about him again.” Asking why, you inhaled before looking back to the sight in front of you both.

It had been a long time since you thought about what happened that day. It felt like nothing compared to the ones which followed suit. “They attacked us first. Lord Stark, his men, we were all attacked in the streets of the capitol and the only people we killed attacked us first. They killed three of his own guard that day, men I knew for years. They attacked us, and after I killed one of them another shoved a spear through Lord Stark's leg and everything after that only ever got worse. I didn't think about the fact that I had killed someone until after we had won our first battle. I never thought about that man again after everything else I did. Until right now.”

The winds around you two blew quietly, brushing your exposed faces with dustings of snow picked up from the ground and flying through the air to a new destination. “You were defending yourself.”

“And you were defending Jon, and avenging your family.” Olly exhaled shakily, before nodding a bit. “We all do bad things, but those bad thing's aren't all equal in nature. You don't feel bad for killing her because you were righting the horrible wrong she did to you. But you feel bad for what you did to Jon, because you always knew that was wrong.” He didn't move away as you slowly let your hand sit comfortingly in the middle of his upper back, “We can't pick and choose what we feel guilty for, but the ones that we do is what defines us. You aren't a bad person because you don't feel guilty for killing her, and you aren't one for being forced to kill someone because Ser Alliser made you. People have done far worse in this world then you'll achieve in your lifetime.”

The winds sat between you once more until his voice was but a whisper, “You said that I didn't need to forgive them for what they did..but I would have to learn to live with them..” You nodded, waiting for the detached thoughts to assemble together in his mind. “I don't know if I'm ready for that..but if I stay at Castle Black I'll never know.”

“We can only try. I'm not asking you to make promises, only that you do your best and tell me when it's getting difficult.” Moving your arm across his shoulders, you pulled him more into your side, running that hand up and down what you could reach of his upper arm. “That and perhaps not to get too friendly with knives when alone with the King.”

Olly choked out a laugh as he leaned into you with an exhaustion. You both sat for a good while, as the boy found no energy in him to move anymore. “The snow is too heavy to bury them.”

Nodding, your voice was soft, “So we burn them. Do your mother and father one last thing, and not leave them here like this. We won't leave them to come back when the storm does.” Olly didn't move to get up, but he nodded his head. You wouldn't get up until he was ready. It was his parents he was looking for, and until he was ready to look away once he found them the two of you would sit there.

“Why do you want me around? After what I did..”

A smile easily sat gentle on your face, pulling him a bit closer. “I could ask you the same question.”

Olly's answer though, smacked right into your heart almost making you want to feel those tears sting behind your eyes. “My mother would have liked you.” You didn't need him to elaborate, you understood that with a tightening in your heart right away. Your eyes now watering without letting them drop.

Whispering in a strained silence only for him, “And she wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life punishing yourself for a mistake. So I won't either.” Prompting him to stand as soon as he found the strength to sit back up properly, “Now we give them a proper funeral, and tomorrow you start fresh.”

No one helped you both, but you had given Theon a shake of your head when he moved to ask and he told the rest to leave you both be. He had told you that boy admires you, but Theon watched and came to the same conclusion you previously did. That maybe, you were just the closest thing to a mother Olly had left. Theon also didn't say it, but he certainly noticed how easily acting as one, fell upon your shoulders.

Certain things were undeniable sore spots for many of you now, and breaching such topics tended to mostly be spat between the two of you in jokes. It was easier to cope with what had happened to both of you if you joked about it, but certain ones he still didn't know how to bring up. It didn't pass your notice or Theon's that neither of you came anywhere near any kind of joke or insult coming close to a topic remotely sexual.

You two never had any actual attraction or interest. It was always from jokes in origin. You were pretty and innocent but short tempered and rigid. Theon was older, had a mighty appetite for women and knew you heard every time he snuck girls and whores into his chambers. He'd make a pass at you, you'd refute it with a clever comment and thus back and forth it became a game of wits to who could out sass the other.

Sex was just something you both were opposite about, and it made joking about it between you both far easier then Theon would ever get along with other girls. You never wanted him, he never wanted you and so flirting with you was safe, beacuse you both knew it meant not a thing. Jon had once joked, asking you if you shared that small corridor with Theon, how did you still know so little about sex. All three of them, Jon, Theon, and Robb all laughed at how flustered and offended you got. Saying you didn't actually listen you just heard it incidentally.

But, not once did anything close to subjects like that come up anymore. Not in jokes. Not towards you, and not about Theon's activities. Or lack thereof, now. You and Maester Wolkan were the only ones left who knew about it. Wolkan needed to know, he was the Maester of Winterfell now under Jon and when discussing his health, it had to be known. But you, not once did you ever bring it up. And he was grateful for it.

You weren't there for what happened to him, and he was glad of it. It was an indescribable memory that he some days couldn't piece together. He had meekly begged Ramsay to kill him after, and for a long time he still wished he would. But it got, not easier, but he had learned to cope with it as it would never change. Then Ramsay showed him you in the dungeons.

Theon knew why he was to be the one to serve you in Winterfell. Ramsay wanted him to get used to being around you, so that it would be a horrible shock the day he was dragged into what was being used as your chambers. And the sickening image he recalled, the extent of how violent it had gotten. Images that haunted Theon to the present. It was first night Ramsay made you and Theon watch each others eyes as he did what he did to you. And he only dragged Theon to watch the more Ramsay's appetite for cruelty towards you grew.

He purposely didn't tell Jon about a lot of the things done to you. Really, he had told Jon the truth of what happened to you, but he didn't tell him anywhere near the worst of it. He didn't know how to say it, and Theon knew that you still hadn't told Jon the worst of it, either.

If Theon were to be honest, it was clear that had Jon known the true extent of vile things Ramsay had done to you, he would've beaten him to death in the courtyard that very day they reclaimed Winterfell.

They weren't sights he liked looking back on, he knew it was to torture you as much as it was to torment Theon but it certainly stuck in his mind in the worst way possible. Ramsay had once mocked him about when men lose an arm or a leg and getting a phantom itch where it used to be. Asking if he would feel it now when seeing a naked girl, and he decided it seemed to test such a question out on you.

But he didn't feel that, he didn't look at you in that manner before, and now still he didn't see anything any mind could attain something good from, only horror. It wasn't until Winterfell too, did Theon for the first time find a reason to be thankful for being cut as such. Ramsay's voice so clear in his mind as he was forced to watch one night. You had been in a mood, and thrown a small mirror at Ramsay that smashed into pieces. So the Bolton stripped you down bare and let the broken shards cut into you as he did what he did, grinning at Theon the whole time.

“Maybe once upon a time, I would have made you do this part Reek, have you bond with my bride.”

He wouldn't be able to even look Jon in the eye had it come to that. He didn't know if he could even live with himself if he was to do something like that. He was Ironborn, rape and raid and all as such but that wasn't who Theon was in his blood, and that wasn't the man Eddard Stark raised him to be. So in that very home he once foolishly thought was the true prison, had to stand and watch it happen to you and be selfishly thankful that he was so mutilated that he wouldn't be able to be forced to help.

It was easy for you to joke about things before. What he did before Ramsay, it was so long passed that the transgressions were all but gone in your eyes. To you, if you both joked about it, people wouldn't look at him as if they should still hate him. He still wasn't sure how to thank you for that, nor if you would even want that. Very likely you would tell him to be quiet and go do something else if he tried to thank you.

You two used to hate each other too. Terribly hate one another. Your first week in Winterfell after Theon had been there, and as soon as he realized you were the daughter of Stannis Baratheon did he ever ramp up how rude he was. Didn't matter to him that you were younger and short and a girl, you were the daughter of the man who destroyed his uncle's fleet, and you had a smart ass mouth that he wanted to punch.

He could still see back one day he, Robb, and Jon were attending to something in the stables when you had thrown the door open and threw something at him hard. Jon had to grab him to stop him from instinctively going to hit you back, as you had yelled at Theon for something he now couldn't even recall. He yelled back and soon everyone came to see what was wrong, you got flustered at the attention, shoving passed everyone to leave when the amount of eyes grew. Robb left to go calm you down and shoved Theon into the wall in frustration as he passed.

Lord Stark had later, made you both sit down in his study side by side to force you both to grow up. He had told you that you could not come in and let your temper out on people and if you needed to have an outlet, “Pick up a practice sword in the training yard, and don't return until you're sure you aren't going to try to stab Theon with it.”

On his own, Lord Stark had told him to ease up on you. Robb and Jon had known you for six years at that point and were very close, they knew you well enough to tease. But also that while all three of them were verging on men, you had only recently had your fourteenth name day, that you were still little more then a child. Theon had grumbled, “Doesn't talk to me like one...”

But the man had only chuckled, he too had known you for those same six years and had watched you slowly grow out of your shell tremendously from that very first month. “I'm not asking you to be friends with her, I'm telling you that you both will need to find a way to tolerate the other's existence. You both will be working closely together from now on, and I'd rather not assign a guard to watch you both every moment of the day.”

He had gone back out to the yard, where you and Robb had started to spar. Trying to get your worked up energy out on something useful, and there you were laughing and smiling the more you and the eldest Stark would go. He would compliment how much better you had gotten, and he saw nothing of the bitter, dry and sarcastic little bitch he had initially thought you of.

Now however, watching you with the guard from afar, your eyes soft as your expression was the same harsh and still as ever, but you had your arm comfortingly around Olly, who was leaning into you with shaking shoulders Theon knew were tears. And not for a second did you try to make him feel better or even tell him it would be okay. You were exactly what the boy needed you to be in that moment. This was the village that was ruined in seconds and you stood with him in the cold snow as long as it took for the fire to take what was left of the frozen bodies of his parents and home.

Olly didn't talk to much of anyone as you all made your way to Winterfell. No one asked why an orphan boy from the Night's Watch was leaving there with you, and if the space given to you both as you came into the courtyard said anything, they were smart enough to not speculate either. It wasn't anything they would guess, you were certain of that. No one guessed it, and some days neither you nor the boy himself could believe what led him here.

But there was one thing to do, once you got him settled, notably getting him used to his quarters and around the castle as if a mother would, but if he was to be here, there was one person he needed to talk to. And he had avoided that conversation since the day he ascended the steps from the Ice Cells.

It was the Lord Commander he helped murder, but now it was the King in the North he was to answer too. But as you made your way to give them privacy, Olly had hesitated to speak up asking you to stay before realizing it was not his place. Jon however, caught it well and nodded for you to stay with not a shred of ire or blame in his eyes.

You'd seen the raging red and intense violence that could brew in Jon Snow's eyes but not for a second was such emotions and aggression directed at a child. That wasn't who he was, he in his blood without having to even try, was the man always on the front to protect the innocent.

Including the innocence of a child manipulated into doing something monstrous.

Samwell Tarly could recall a day when one of his brothers had asked him if he had ever dreamt of being back home since arriving at Castle Black, and his answer was blunt as he could have made it. “No, I hated it there.” And it wasn't anywhere near a lie, but it was so much more complicated then that.

No matter what good remained in his memories of home, it was still a place that he resented. He resented the torment, he resented being forced to leave, and he resented that he had to leave a second time all because once more his father refused to see anything worthwhile in him.

He had introduced himself that first day in Castle Black, as if it meant anything to those already looking at him with judging amusement in their eyes. Told to let them know what his name was, and he gave the proper greeting he was raised to introduce himself as only the shaking nerves made it sound pathetic as he spat it out, and rambled further.

“Samwell Tarly, of Horn Hill. I mean, I was of Horn Hill..I've come to take the black..”

Only to have the first thing he heard from any of their mouths, was the spitting Rast laughing to himself, “Come to take the black pudding,” Truly in those first few days Sam was sure his life had gone from one kind of bad to a new without anything to look forward too. Ser Alliser mocked him, encouraged others to mock him, and looked forward to making his recruits knock him into the dirt.

One had stood up in his defence, angry and shoving him away from them all once he grabbed him off the ground. Fighting against the rest of them when Ser Alliser demanded it, and turned around scolding him that it wasn't about to get easier. It was the first time someone had truly come to Sams defence without any expectation in return, and it was a bit off putting to Sam how rough and stern he was about it though. He was so sure, when he was assigned as the mans watch partner up on the Wall, that he hated him, and would rather have nothing to do with him.

Part of it was not being comfortable around such heights, but when he was told to come stand by the fire, Sam didn't want to. He was freezing, but standing by the fire meant having to come closer and annoy the one person who had done something nice for him, so he lied.

Only, it was never that easy trying to lie to someone like Jon Snow.

He said he was fine, and Jon without missing a beat turned to him, “You're not. You're freezing.” After that night, it got easier. A lot easier. He found people and purpose and confidence and a true bravery, he had begun to feel pride in who he had become at the Night's Watch.

But then Jon was Lord Commander, and had returned from Hardhome seeing horrors beyond anything Sam imagined once possible as a boy. Much happened at once, Jon with the intention of opening the gates to let the free folk through, but before that, had told Sam he was sending him to the Citadel.

Maester Aemon was very sick by then, and very old and Jon seemed to decide to utilize Sam's love for learning for the better. Despite the fact that Sam knew too well, Jon had next to no one left. Sure he had Ghost, he had Edd, and the large one Tormund seemed fond of him, but Jon had no family left, no home, most of his friends were dead, and half a year later, Jon still hadn't said more then a few words about you.

He wanted to stay, to not be another person forced to leave Jons life, but it wasn't Sams choice. It was Jons. And he sent him, Gilly and Little Sam to Eastwatch by the Sea anyways. After getting on a ship, it was a port stop in Bravvos with more adventures there then he ever wanted, and finally before settling into Oldtown, Sam knew he had one more stop.

He had to go back to Horn Hill.

Sam had hoped that perhaps the many years since he had left, may have softened his father's ire towards him. His mother Melessa at least, had taken one look at Sam and smiled so brightly he could have cried, a laugh at how good he looked, and how healthy he looked.

Then when introducing Little Sam, an easier explanation to hide where Gilly had come from they told his family he was his bastard son. It was less complicated if they thought he was his blood, even though at that point in Sam's life, he knew what people would think about a man of the Nights Watch with a newborn. But Melessa had adored Little Sam, not once cared for any of the implications one way or another, merely excited to have a grandchild and meet the girl who wooed her son.

Talla was so much older now, while adulthood hadn't changed much in Sam it had made his sister go from a girl to almost a woman, one of the first things from her mouth, “Father says I have to marry Symun Fossoway. He has yellow teeth-” Considering the life he and Gilly had just come from, it was almost sweet she complained it to Sam as if it were the worst to happen to her.

His father and brother were on a hunt, and for only a moment as his mother told him, it made Sam swallow in nerves. He doubted his father had ever told his wife what his plans for Sam were.

“You're almost a man now, but you are not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you're going to take the black. Forsake all claim to your inheritance and start north. If you do not, then we'll have a hunt. And somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble, and you'll be thrown from your saddle to die...or so I'll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more.”

But he was doing this not for himself, he needed this to work. He needed his father to accept Gilly, accept Little Sam so they could have a life. Little Sam would have a better education then Gilly knew she could give him, still on her own reading journey she wasn't anywhere near a teaching level.

He needed his father to look past Sam's own shortcomings just this once. Let them stay, and Gilly wouldn't have to work in a brothel cleaning after women who all called her a “wildling bitch”. She wouldn't be working in Castle Black where at any time they could corner her alone, the worst of his brothers would attack her for being nothing but a woman. They would be safe.

Talla and Melessa had brought them both inside, the former sharing ideas of what guest room Gilly could have as if she had any concept of the luxury being offered. His mother warming his heart, telling him quietly that she couldn't be happier seeing her son with something so proud to look at. But then his father and brother came home.

Dickon wasn't as openly gleeful like his mother and sister, but Sam also knew that the two brothers were indeed happy about to see one another. Dickon had accepted the explanation, and begun going over things on his mind as if no time between all these years had passed. He was tall, strong, capable, and skilled just like his father but he had, like Sam, inherited their mother's kindness.

Sam also wondered, how much of why Sam left, did his father not tell his brother either?

Who knew but his father he had threatened to murder him for simply growing to be who he was? And sure, Sam all those years ago knew he wasn't proud of himself. He was a coward, he was shy, he had no idea what his purpose was, but now? Sure, he thought he was still some of those things to a degree, but now he at least knew when it came down to it, he would push forward for the people he loved. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't anywhere near enough, not for his father.

Sam preferred to read over learning to hunt, and his father hated that about him. Hated that his nose was always on a book rather then learning from whatever nightmare his father was putting him through that day. But it was the way one man at Castle Black had said those words to him, discussing how Sam wasn't a fighter like his father.

It was Stannis Baratheon who told him with a pride in his eyes and voice, as he realized Sams goal was to search the old manuscripts for answers of the threat far North.

“We have to know how to fight them. Keep reading, Samwell Tarly.”

The King who answered their call for aid, the King who still cared, had seen Sam's worth in his love of books and learning. Had not looked at him judgmentally for it, and instead seen him for something Sam could provide which others couldn't.

Yet, that night as he sat at the table with his father, mother, Talla, and Dickon, and at his own side Gilly and Little Sam, his father looked no more happy with him then the day he left. Dickon would ask what beyond the wall was like, and when Sam was honest that all of the food he had from the wild was hunted by Jon, his father found it pathetic. As if Jon being the fitter, stronger one who knew how to hunt was shameful against Sam who simply had no talent for it.

Gilly knew how to hunt, but she didn't shame him for it. Jon had hunted all of the animals the two of them ate beyond the wall and he didn't judge Sam for letting him do that work.

When Gilly had mentioned she knew how to hunt, especially rabbits, Melessa had not been phased, only knowing enough to say Gilly was from the North. “I imagine it’s common where you’re from. We once met a man, Lord Umber from Last Hearth, wasn’t it, Randyll, who said he taught all his daughters how to hunt.” Talla had been impressed on her own, looking at Gilly, “Your father taught you to hunt? Our father would never teach us. I think our father could learn a thing or two from your father.”

Agitated with the conversation, when Sam had politely went to accept bread from one of the servers, his father had dismissively scolded him, “Not fat enough already?” And it all had begun to spiral from there. “I thought the Night’s Watch might make a man of you. Something resembling a man at least. You managed to stay soft and fat. Your nose buried in books. Spending your life reading about the achievements of better men. I’ll wager you still can’t sit on a horse or wield a sword.”

Sam wanted to tell him he could ride a horse, he killed a Thenn, he killed one of the Others with nothing but a dagger made from dragonglass to protect Gilly and Little Sam. But he wasn't here to convince his father of that, and Sam could tell that Gilly wanted to bring it up in his defence, and had spoken of it before he could come up with a way to change the subject. Once the image of Gilly being North of the wall was out there, there was no hiding who she was.

Sam wasn't ashamed of it, nor did he care how people looked at him for it. But he certainly did not like how instantly, instead of making any notion of Sam breaking his vows, he had taken his ire out on him through Gilly. Randyll Tarly pointing to a shining, sharp blade. Sat on a wall mount made out of antlers, the hilt of it shaped as that of a bow and arrow with such images carved deeply into the wood surrounding it, whereas the rest of it looked little to stand out. “It’s called Heartsbane. It’s been in our family for five hundred years. It’s Valyrian steel. Only a handful of them left in the world. It’s supposed to go to my firstborn son after I die. To him.” Gesturing to Sam in the dead silence of the room, “But he will never wield that sword. If he were to become Lord Tarly of Horn Hill, it would be the end of this house. I took you for a Mole’s Town whore when I saw you and I made my peace with that. Who else would have him? But I overestimated him. No. It was a wildling whore that seduced my son.”

Turning back to his son, he was standing tall but no one else moved an inch, and everyone but him, was greatly uncomfortable as he grew more spiteful. “This you getting back at me, boy? Bring that to my table and making me dine with it. And you got what you were after, didn’t you? A bastard. A half-breed bastard.”

Melessa had stood, disgusted by his blatant hatred, guiding Gilly and Little Sam away with Talla following. Slowly leaving last was Dickon who stayed silent, wishing he had the bravery to stand up for his brother's side instead of saying nothing.

Sam was angry, however. Gilly being a wildling didn't make her any less of a person. And there certainly wasn't anything wrong with being a bastard. Jon was a bastard of the North, and was the most admirable man Sam's ever known, a far better man then the father before him.

Randyll had approached his son, now standing with a held back anger of his own looking up at the man. “Your mother’s a fine woman. You’re not worthy of her. To please her, I’ll take the wildling in. She can work in the kitchens. The bastard will be raised here. But this will be the last night you ever spend at Horn Hill.”

It was a risk, but he had left, and taken them with him. Gilly and Little Sam were his family, and they all belonged together, so they took what little they had and left in the middle of the night. Perhaps it had been childish or maybe it was the first brave act of rebellion against his father he found the courage to do, but he had taken Heartsbane with him, saying it was his families sword after all, not his fathers.

When Gilly had asked if his father would come for it, Sam said with the only pride he had.

“He can bloody well try.”

As you sat there in Maester Wolkan's study, you supposed you were lucky that no one saw what led up to it. Wrapping the underside of your forearm as you tried not to shake from the blood loss that took place as you made your way to see him in the first place. He no doubt had heard the whispers of you losing your mind by that point, but took no question that you simply said your hand had slipped. It became a problem however, when Jon had come into the room with tense eyes as he stared at you as if hiding a horrible secret.

“What happened?” His voice was tight and controlled likely a bit too much to not come off as trying to hide such intentions. Stepping closer to where Wolkan had you perched on a stool so your arm could lay flat as he previously had been stitching the worst of it.

He answered for you when you had paused with wide eyes, “Her hand slipped with a blade, she came to me before it could get out of hand.”

Jon watched how hesitant you were to speak and you both knew that he had realized why. Taking the moment he kept a more controlled volume, despite the twisting of angry worry in his face as he spoke to you instead. “Out of hand? The amount of blood I just saw-”

Wolkan kept his cool and you thanked him with a silent glance. “The wound is deep but it didn't cut a vein. It will heal easily and she got to me at the perfect time to clean and close the wound. Little things to be thankful for, sometimes.”

Inhaling deeply, Jon watched silently as your eyes nervously flickered between him and Wolkan, the later wrapping the rest of your forearm now that the worst of the bleeding had stopped. “You should come see me in the morning.” Putting away some of his tools as you pulled your arm gently into your lap. “I will want to check for any sign of infection, and regardless I will rewrap your dressings and clean it out.”

Nodding at him, you felt a strain in your chest as you raised an eyebrow at him, a silent unrelated question Jon could not see, but Wolkan only hummed quiet in an answer that spoke what none could gather but you two. Moving to politely held you stand from your perched position, but Jon had already stepped to your side, an arm wrapping around your waist to all but do the hard work for you, lifting you up and to the ground as he spoke. “I appreciate you helping her, Maester Wolkan. Thank you.”

“Always what I am here for, your grace.” It was a stroke of luck you felt that being sworn by oath to a family of monsters did not mean it made the maester for them the same. Getting to Winterfell at the captive of the Boltons and realizing they brought Wolkan with them, you knew it meant for whatever reason Luwin was gone and you dared not think what led to it or why.

There was getting used to Wolkan, but he did his best under the leadership he was put under and at the least was a little bit easier going in the time he had seen you in those months of a hell. The man was quiet but kind and very smart. On the relieving side, serving Jon seemed to bring him far more peace then years under the Boltons ever did.

You hoped that for just right now, it meant he could keep another secret just until you could ensure that secret's safety. A raven had come in for you, and after reading it's contents as you had finally settled back into Winterfell, you told him to keep the information to himself. With what you now knew, this one needed to be protected and that included ensuring it was somewhere not out of your reach and protection before revealing it safely.

Jon leading you through the quiet of the halls, you had glanced up to him from the side noting he had not moved his arm from your waist. “Do I even need to ask how it was you knew where to find me?”

Instead of what you expected, a deep chuckle vibrated through Jon's chest instead, pulling you a bit closer to his side playfully. “Next time don't choose a steward who used to be mine, and maybe he wouldn't tell me right away.” Only half a smile on your face, you almost could shake your head at the thought. You had told him to clean the blood up and not go get someone as it wasn't a big deal, but Olly had clearly not listened as soon as Jon came into the room with questions at the sight.

You didn't know what the two of them talked about, but they had been in the study for a while before coming to a conclusion, and that it was likely a little easier for Olly to serve Jon through you rather then jump back into his service as if it was just like before. A new trend in Jon's life it seemed. Getting used to someone who backstabbed him or his family though their forgiveness in you.

Continuing beside you, “He was worried about you, don't blame him.” Ensuring you didn't, Jon nodded before glancing around. Turning you with both hands at your upper arms, did he direct you to stop and face him, keeping his hold there as his grey eyes were bright but worried looking down at you. Your own hands, one wrapping around a wrist of his and the other toying along his waist distractedly. “He also said when he came into the room it had sounded like you had been screaming.”

You bit your lip but Jon didn't even blink, just a building concern swimming in his gaze that had you weak to it. Shrugging a little bit, you tried desperately to play it off. “It was nothing, he probably-” Jon more sternly murmured your name as his head tilted a bit with a sharper look as if warning you to not lie to his face about this. Quiet as you looked into his eyes before dropping them as your face fell a bit, “Last time I don't even recall getting out of bed, but I was wide awake and..I didn't even realize I had even dropped the blade across my arm until Olly came in the room..”

Olly wasn't sure to believe you when you said it wasn't a big deal, but you knew you couldn't get Jon to believe that in any capacity. Not now. His own expression falling almost a bit more upset, one of his hands came up to run along the hair at the side of your face before cupping your cheek. “Was it the same as last time?” Shaking your head no, Jon glanced down the corridor but still none were around at least. “What was it?”

There was only two you recognized this time, but it was two you had seen before in the last. One woman, a bit older then you, hair almost a silver white and a cold, yet smug look as she had cared not for the pleading. The one with her though, was the Westeros knight you had seen before but his face escaped you from knowing the name attached to it.

But the mind you found yourself in? The things which happened, and the lack of any emotion on her face but perhaps that of some enjoyment, it shocked you. Even coming out of it, it shocked you. The mind you looked through was not someone good, but there was a conflicted mess of emotions swirling in their mind.

The way he ended though, the way she let it happen? It didn't matter what occurred, there was not a thing even a man like that could've done which would have made him deserve that. Perhaps you felt so shaken, as you felt the screaming agonizing heat as he did in the seconds before your mind returned to you, blood across your arm as Olly called your name in a panic.

But trying to relay that properly to Jon? It was hard to explain. It was hard to word how terrifying it felt, the way she looked at him as he was pleading desperately for any mercy.

“Dany, please-”

Jon stared at you in a distant unnerved manner, this was the second time the same woman was at the centre of both. Looking up at him, you could feel your throat burning from the desperation and your heart racing as it recalled the fear of how uncaring she looked at him through your eyes. Murmuring your name fading into a tense quiet, Jon moved his other hand from your upper arm to wrap around your back and pull you into him.

He hadn't mentioned it, but he had seen the way you almost disappeared in the hall during the reception. The way you looked sick and terrified for only moments when he gently coaxed you back to earth before you were kept too deep into whatever it was you saw or heard. He knew trauma, and that was far more then just a memory. He didn't say it, but the way he held you close told enough, that whatever was pulling your mind here and there was beginning to scare him.

The worry that if he left you on your own too long again, what could this escalate too before you hurt yourself even more? How was he supposed to protect you from something he couldn't even slightly control? Jon knew his entire life at that point was strange, unexplained things happening to him, but they weren't supposed to happen to you. They weren't supposed to leave you looking this shaken and panicked at what you were seeing.

Muffled against him, you tried to reassure him, “We've been through a lot in a short amount of time, maybe it's only stress.” Jon shortly muttering back a question of is it, before you paused. Holding him around the back of his neck more, “No one has ever died and come back, this could be normal.”

“I saw visions of you before and they were nothing like this.” Inhaling deeply once more you could hear his voice was deep and tight trying to keep himself collected against you. “Something is doing this to you, but I don't know how to help.”

Pulling back, you found the need in your heart straining to quell the tone break in his voice. Cupping both sides of his cheeks, you hated the concern so blatantly across his eyes. “You can't protect me from everything, Jon.”

Shaking his head once, he grabbed one of your hands to twist. Pressing a kiss to your palm, “That won't stop me from trying.”

But for just a moment, the way in which his large hand gripped part of your hand and wrist did you not stand there anymore. Looking up brightly at not the man your present mind knew was in front of you, you were sitting. In a room glowing with gentle firelight as innocuous music played around you that set nothing in your mind off.

You had your hand rushing towards him in a much more playful manner when he snatched you just like this, holding it in the air just like this but a smirk across his lips and bright blue eyes tinged with a complete mischief as he pulled you a bit closer.

“Striking your King is an act of treason.”

But as soon as you could see Robb, you were back here. In the halls of Winterfell as Jon murmured your name with that same panic returning to his eyes. Instead you pulled your hands down to rest over where the carve in his heart was. You looked much more reassured then Jon did, despite the floating in your chest warning you that this was starting to happen at an alarming frequency.

Changing subjects swiftly was the safest route, which worked easily to bring him down to something simmering in his shoulders. “Come, we have a bit to do before we meet with everyone. At least have our affairs prepared before we get yelled at for it.”

Jon relaxed, chuckling again as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “This is my order, I'll be the one getting yelled at if anything.” As you both made your way down the corridor once more, you shook your head with a sigh. “I'd rather they be angry with me then you.”

“I think that ship has long since sailed, Snow.”

A smirk so much easier danced across Jon's lips as he tried his best to walk forward and not just shove you into the nearest wall. “You know that one doesn't work quite as well when it's your name too now, Snow.” His tone dropping with a playful prominence on the name as well as he glanced at you trying to hide your own smirk.

“What are you going to do, your grace?” Pushing it a little as you didn't even glance at him letting the words pass you by with a quick dryness. “Going to punish me for using our name against you?”

And with that you had snapped the restraint he held. One hand on your hip now as he shoved you into the wall roughly, his other trapping you in as his palm rested on the stone wall beside your head, leaning close enough so your world vision was hidden with his curls. Grey eyes dark, looking down you with not a shred of shame for it before following it back up. Not even with a smirk, almost just a raw, dark, frowning lust that he couldn't contain. Like he did these things without any thought behind it.

The hand on your hip tightening, “I should punish you for taking my name in the first place.” Stepping closer he could almost press his hips into yours should he take a step more, as you felt the hand on your hip fisting the skirt of your dress as it raised slightly. His breath stuck hot against your skin, taking another step, feeling a teasing press of his hardening cock that almost made your mind beg and plead to just open your legs for him now, regardless of how anyone could see. The hand beside your head drifting down to your hair and raking his way through to the back of your neck, he tilted your head up to meet his eyes gently.

Your voice but a high pitched whisper as the blood in your veins sparked you like a spreading fire. “Too bad my King has a meeting with his high lords to prepare for. Not nearly enough time for that.”

You didn't mean it as a challenge, but you should have known better. You were in the hall where any could pass by, but as Jon pressed you up against the wall anyways it didn't matter. His hands grabbing your wrists and yanking them up above your head, switching to hold you there with one larger hand as the other yanked your dress up for him, his lips attacking yours rough and deeply.

As soon as he felt your bare skin under his touch, his mouth moved to your jaw and neck with sloppy kisses but rough bites as he rasped in you ear. “My men also expect their King to fuck an heir into his beautiful wife. I'm doing my duty.”

Shivering in his touch your fingers flexed wanting to reach out to him, voice barley there as his mouth continued to bite into your neck, his fingers of his other hand drifting under the soft fabric hiding you from his touch. “Is that all this is?” Holding back a high gasp as his fingers drifted down to run lightly along your wetness, “Not a very appropriate way of doing such a duty, my King. Where anyone could find us.”

Pulling back, his eyes darkening to a black as he stared you down, finding your clit with the wetness on his fingers as you jumped. The hold on your wrists tightened as you did so. Jon rubbing tight, rough circles into it and breaking your resolve as you melted into his touch. “Maybe they should find us.” Your lungs tightened as you opened your mouth to cry out as the pleasure burned into the roughness of your clit as he was relentless of the pace. Mouth trailing up to your ear as he roughly snapped his teeth into it as he hissed, “Make sure I'm doing right by my new wife and watch me take you apart. I'd have showed off how good you are for me on our wedding night, if it didn't also mean any of them had to touch you as well.”

Letting the touch on your clit slide down, Jon sunk those same two fingers deep to the knuckle inside of you with no hesitation, the heel of his palm roughly rubbing into the sore nub sparking you to cry out loudly. Jon capturing you lips with his to muffle whatever echo was left in you.

Running firmly along the sensitive wall inside of you, you arched into his touch as much as you could. Letting his lips steal your whine of his name into his mouth, and returning such a gift by sliding his tongue into yours.

Thankful the thin material was still there, collecting the otherwise unseemly evidence of how wet Jon's fingers were being soaked as your hips tried desperately to grind into his touch. The hand keeping your wrists above your head slipping down finally, grasping the side of your face near your jaw as he kept your mouth firmly against his.

Licking along your tongue with greed as he increased how deep and fast he fucked his fingers into your soaked core. Your hands raking through his curls in an instant as Jon pressed his hips firmly into yours before moving to grasp over your dress at your breasts, groping tightly before finding the collar of your dress and slipping under the fabric.

His fingers inside of you moving fast and soaked as you felt the coil twisting and begs for mercy unheard in Jon's kiss but how roughly he grasped, twisted and almost tugged on your nipple under you dress had you gasping desperately. Jon's incessant touch pulling you right over that line and your orgasm flooded between your legs as he still kept himself tasting inside of your mouth. As soon as you arched up and seized, the feeling washing across your veins and limbs with a cry as it snapped inside of you, your own hands reached down.

Hands almost shaking and fumbling as you tried to work past his layers as you still clenched around his fingers with a bit of a jump at the aftershocks still hitting your core from your orgasm. Pulling from your mouth Jon looked down to your hands before leaning to nudge your nose with his, taking over for you with much more ease even with one hand. Only undoing enough that he could reach into his breeches and pull his cock out.

Jon pulling from your wetness and two fingers soaked, he reached up so they sat obscenely at your lips before pushing them just as deep to the knuckle despite your whine, moving to sloppily kiss back along to your ear as his other hand yanked your dress up enough to manoeuvre under it. Almost looking back at you for a moment as he let you suck, before he pulled them from you and once more kissed you. Your tongues sliding along the other as he much more freely groaned at the heavy taste on his own tongue.

But just as you grasped at his shoulders in need, Jon yanked up one of your legs to rest at his hip, pushing you more into the wall just as he slid his cock deep inside you. Your cries in his mouth almost painful as the thick stretch burned but you arched into his touch. His hand on your thigh as the material slid down your leg and almost exposed what Jon was doing, holding it up tight at his hip as he fucked up roughly inside of you with a grunt.

This wasn't a fuck made to last, his pace was fast and he was rough and pounding where you could hear how soaked you made is cock in an instant. His free hand cupping your jaw as he pulled back to look at you, teeth almost gritting as his eyes black watched you try desperately to hold back any sound.

His cock burned you, made you want to scream and run from the pain of how long and thick he slid inside you, but the pleasure taken from you left you unwilling to fight back and raking through his curls tightly. As if all you knew to do was take it. Jon's eyes were dark as he looked down at you, each pound of his cock jostling you as he wished he could strip you bare then and there to watch better.

On the contrary though, his deep tones washed over with something so bright and soft as he looked at you, “I love you so much..” The degree to which you clenched around him had Jon bury his head in your neck to hide his own groans. Your hands gentle now through his curls as his cock rutted deeply into you.

Nodding into him, your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and up into his hair, your voice weak as your lungs held no air trying to keep any cries from your words and little able to come out as a result, “I- fuck, I'm yours..”

Another groan as he picked up the pace and slammed his cock inside of your soaked cunt at a rough and fast pace before biting deeply into your neck. Nodding into his biting, Jon yanked the leg at his hip up high and shoved you more against the wall at a better angle to fuck up inside you, but completely exposing how deeply he was fucking you should anyone walk by the side where your dress was slipped down.

You shook at how it almost felt as if Jon wanted someone to come by and see what he was doing to you. Yet unbeknownst to why, Jon desperately did. He never had this inclination before, but his new life with you, buried inside you, Jon was consumed with a few dark desires. One of them almost challenging his men to watch what they could never give you.

He hated how depraved of thoughts they could become. Jon pounded into you harder at the images in his mind taking over. What it would be like, having you pressed against the wall just like this, but making you face away, your back pressed against his chest and instead Jon would pull his head from your neck, rest his forehead against the back of your hair and watch his cock sink deeply into your ass, and how much the plush skin of your cheeks would bounce at the force.

Jon didn't think he knew how to ask you for that. You weren't some whore that men paid for, you were the woman he loved more then anything, his wife. But he couldn't stop himself as he fucked you fast against the wall. How filthy would it feel to spill deep inside your ass, or how much he wanted to lay you out, and shove his cock to fuck between your breasts after marking them up all for him with his lips and teeth.

He had no idea why he was consumed with thoughts like this, but the way you grasped at him, clenched around him and let him fuck you as if you were designed for his lips and cock alone, was doing something to his desires he never knew about before.

You hid in his shoulder, weakly crying his name as you suddenly came around him. The coil snapping after twisting so burning tight as you were pulled up to meet his lips. Jon biting and kissing you deeply as you came around him, before you felt his cum. Thick and hot as he spilled deeply inside of you, grinding deep until you clenched around him in too much shocking stimulation.

He shushed you with gentle kisses as you whined as he pulled out. Putting your leg back down gently, and cupping both of your cheeks tenderly with a kiss as he put both of your clothes back where they belonged. It was quiet between you both for a moment, gently tracing your noses along the other as you smoothed out the curls you had raked though until you felt your heart slow and world return to your vision outside of Jon.

Leaning up to give a tiny kiss, you looked back. His grey eyes bright with a smile charming off his face as you almost grinned back with a beam. “Now we are certainly going to be late.”

You honestly could have rolled your eyes, if he hadn't captured your lips in another kiss as Jon muttered, “Oh, I'll make sure of that.”

These Starks thought they were so terribly clever didn't they?

It was not an easy thing to do, making a Northern man cry. Reputation made people think that they never did because they couldn't. Unemotional and cold in heart as the winter around them, but in truth it simply was just held inside them securely.

It had been the first time in a long time that he cried, the day Howland Reed learned of Eddard Stark's death.

His son Jojen had seen it, he had the Sight. With no reason to doubt what his son had said, it hurt him greatly to realize he was the last of them. Everyone that had played a pivitol role in some capacity in Robert's Rebellion and all of them but him died before their time. But then again, they all had before their final days anyways.

Something in a lot of them died near the end of that war and no one had quite found a life beyond it, in a way they all were trapped in the rebellion twenty five years later until the last of them died too. Jon Arryn had been first. The brave man who had to make the hard choice of rallying his bannermen against the Mad King, died of a fever, but Howland knew better. He knew Ned would have known better as well.

Then it was Robert, the most obvious of them all. Robert had never lived passed learning that Prince Rhaegar Targaryean had kidnapped Lyanna Stark somewhere along the roads near Harrenhal. He became angry then and he stayed angry until his last day no doubt. He was a wild card, especially when contrasting him to the man Ned Stark used to be. Even looking past a man dedicated to the wife he loved, it was not in his nature to be like Robert.

Robert had bastards all over the country. The ones in Kings Landing were dead, but there were more out there. A man who drank and whored to that degree? Stones, Flowers, Waters, he likely had at least one in all of the Kingdoms. Most of them would just never know it. He could recall it was that nature which she hated.

Lyanna knew who Robert was at his worst, and the simple fact was she also knew that was a life many highborn girls would find themselves fated too. Rare for a highborn girl to have a husband like the way Catelyn Tully had eventually found love in Ned Stark. But in those days, Lyanna's prospects were looking at a lifetime of being insulted by her husbands infidelity.

Ironic, he thought.

But, it never got any better for Robert. He thought he loved Lyanna when he hardly knew a thing about her, and it was that thought which made him angry realizing what Rhaegar had done. And when Ned Stark came back from the war and she was dead? He stayed angry.

Howland only knew bits and parts of the story some from Ned, much from what Jojen could see but it wasn't pretty. Rhaegar Targaryean had been dead for twenty four years and Robert hated him as much then as he did that day they learned what he had done. He wished Baratheons were made a little more of what Northerners were. Just keep some things inside.

But, it was Ned Stark who Howland Reed cried for. Not many knew how deep their bond ran and none but the two of them knew why. They didn't often have the chance to see one another after the rebellion, and even less when Howland finally had his kids but they spoke in writing still. Just not willing to leave his home when he had them. Finally through the horror, Meera and Jojen were Howland's blessings and he missed them terribly.

He knew why they had to go, why they had to go to Bran Stark and now Howland could only hope that somewhere beyond the wall his children were still alive. But, Ned Stark still wasn't and it ate away at him since the years the Lannisters took his head. He hadn't come out since then. Ned died and Howland hid in his Keep in Greywater Watch, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn't anymore. He didn't know what would do it, but he knew it was coming.

But then he'd remember he was the last one. Not just of the men of those days, but the last one who knew. What was he to do with that information, he knew much many didn't. Much that Ned knew, much that Lyanna didn't want people to know and a lifetime of keeping it all inside making him turn inward at how stonewalled he needed to be to contain them.

But there was only one secret that mattered, one that was why Ned Stark had spent the rest of his life trapped within the traumas of rebellion. The reminder of that truth was there for him every single day and when it wasn't he was in a place that served to haunt him with what would happen should the worst come out. Come be Hand of the King Robert said, come to the place your brother and father burned alive trying to demand safe rescue of your sister.

Come witness a place that terrified him to have such a secret be in. But he kept that secret as far North as he could get once those days came knocking. It was all he could do to keep that secret safe still.

It was late at night as Howland finally left. Travelling on his horse along the Kingsroad. Winter was everywhere now, and it didn't slow him one bit. His horse would have to freeze and die to slow this journey down and even then he would keep going. Someone had to keep that secret safe and Howland was all that remained so he had to show his face. But it was along the road that he relived it. He and Ned's reason for why they became the men they were and the complications of what it all meant.

Still now he could recall how in one moment a young girl off in the distance had spotted what was happening, and how as quick as he saw her did she come to his aid. The girl likely no older then fourteen or fifteen, came to the aid of Howland who was even then, already a man. He had been jumped by boys over six years his junior in the roads towards the Tourney of Harrenhal. But, Howland Reed was small and quick. Not large and strong. They were though.

Yet that young girl with black hair and grey eyes came jumping to his defence without a second thought, using only a dull tourney sword to try and chase the boys attacking him off. How she that day brought him to her lair, as she had jested calling it, to get her brothers to help treat his wounds. He met all four Starks that day.

Brandon was the eldest, tall and handsome and had a quick wit and hot temper just as he had seen on the she wolf who rescued him. Benjen was the youngest, only a few years beneath Lyanna in age but laughed easily and held a maturity Howland admired. Offering him armour and a horse, saying if he wanted to get back at the boys who beat him he'd be happy to provide them.

He could still recall the way he and Benjen teased how quickly from a feirce defender Lyanna went, to a watery eyed girl. Hearing a sad song from the beautiful singing voice of Prince Rhaegar, and how she poured her drink on her brother for making fun of her. It was funny then, beacuse it was such a childishly little girl reaction.

It wasn't funny now looking back on it.

Beacuse she was a child. Howland was close in age to the Prince, so it made what followed after all the more horrifying. A pretty, feirce, rebellious maiden did not come to his rescue. Lyanna was just a hot tempered but caring and loyal child. Only a child.

But, he met one more Stark that day. Eddard Stark was the second eldest brother, not quite as well liked and charmingly handsome as Brandon, but more quiet and serious. Howland liked him right away. He liked all four of them he met that day, but he and Ned remained friends with a true ease from that moment onward. A friendship, that all these years later, still felt difficult to accept the end of.

They hadn't known each other for a lifetime, but it was Howland Reed that was trusted with the one thing which would remain only between them for the rest of their lives. And Howland never once wavered in how seriously he took that secret to heart. He could see that secret as clear as he could see that day he met the family of wolves.

It was warm that day. So warm in Dorne that Howland hated it. The sun bore down on them as they travelled, the seven of them, and not a clue what they were walking in on. Not really. The Prince's Pass was their destination, a circular tower standing high in the sky against the backdrop of the Red Mountains. There was hardly anything around it. It was chosen on purpose of course.

One could get to it from Harrenhal without much difficulty and yet it was isolated. Where if they ran from it, where would one go were these sands not their home? It felt like an insult towards Elia Martell to keep a teenage girl in the tower she gifted to her husband, but it also felt like a way to force the girl into relying on who she was trapped with. Even if she escaped, where would she go on her own?

There were seven of them though, and he saw all clear as day. Eddard Stark was at his limit of what he could put up with. Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar at the Trident, The Mad King was dead and yet all who died gruesomely were still gone. Everyone knew what happened no matter what Tywin Lannister later claimed. He had ordered his knights Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch to find and kill Elia Martell and her children.

The mountain had ripped the still infant Aegon from his mothers breast and smashed his face against the wall so hard that only blood and bone remained to him. Then dripping in his blood, he had raped Elia before splitting her in half with his greatsword. In the same royal apartments, hiding under her fathers bed, little Rhaenys had been dragged from under it by Lorch and brutally stabbed over fifty times.

And all Robert could say were that they were “dragonspawn” and cared not for dead, innocent children soley because they were Rhaegar's. Ned had argued with him at how disgusting his lack of care was and left Kings Landing alone. Meaning thankfully, Robert was no where near the Tower of Joy that day.

Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, Ethan Glover, Mark Ryswell, Willam Dustin and of course, Eddard Stark and Howland Reed. Seven good men, skilled men who were as serious as any Northerners and as determined as the brother who was there for the sister still kept away from him.

There were three in the distance. Their white cloaks blowing in the wind, they had not the threat of being out numbered and all knew why. They were there on orders and not once in the war left, it was insulting. Their vows as knights not more important then the thing they were there for, to keep a girl hostage. But, they were Kingsguard, and dangerous ones too.

On one side, Ser Oswell Whent was knelt down on one knee, sharpening his blade with a wetstone. On the other was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, who stood with his greatsword, Dawn, hung over his right shoulder, a sad smile sat on his face.

Between them was Ser Gerold Hightower, The White Bull and commander of the Kingsguard who stood tall and stern between them. The men all stood at attention as Ned Stark stepped forward first, trying to find any peace when all knew there would be none. Were there going to be peace, they wouldn't be here in the first place.

Ned stood as tall as could be, and as calm as he managed. “I looked for you on the Trident.”

Ser Gerold was the one to respond, taking proper command of the situation for as long as it was leading to the inevitable. “We were not there.”

Beside him with all the confidence that felt both true yet unearned, Ser Oswell spat out “Be the end of the usurper if we had been.” Howland recalled thinking if they considered Robert a usurper, then perhaps they should have done their duty and worked to prevent such a thing from happening, but they either did not have such clarity or were blinded by their own hubris.

His face squinting harshly in the bright sun that was a mixture with the anger and impatience building within him, Ned continued past the offence. “When Kings Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your King. Your Prince lays dead now at the Trident, and I could only wonder then where you were.”

But Ser Gerold defended their failures of duty as if it was an excuse which mattered to any here. “If we had been there, Aerys would still sit on the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in all seven hells.”

It was only after that day, did Howland recall that and he wondered to himself on the journey North, perhaps the Kingsguard were not noble knights to be remembered as brave and valiant, if the final legacy they left behind was this.

Ned had only one plea and all knew it wouldn't work, but he would give them that option no matter what. “The Lords and Knights of the Seven Kingdoms have bent the knee in their defeat. There is none left for your orders to follow.”

Ser Arthur had moved to take his helmet into his hand, a firm but sad look of a man sure of who he was and what he was doing. “Our knees do not bend easily.”

Beside him Ser Gerold only added to their fates. “Nor do we flee our duty. We are Kingsuard. We swore a vow.”

But all men there, the three standing in the way of the tower and the seven against them all knew what vow it was they were still defending. As each remaining six of them came to Ned's side, weapons in hand, Ser Arthur donned his helm finally, and spoke what was to be his last. “And now it begins.”

Eddard Stark however, spoke the truth for more then one of them that day. “No, now it ends.”

Just as the metal of their swords clashed, from the tower was heard Lyanna Stark desperately screaming, “Eddard-” as the fight ensued to get to her.

Three men against seven and all but two remained. Ned Stark and Howland Reed were the only ones who lived to see the end of that fight and it was a bloody horrid sight. But once they were dead, Ned spared not a single second as he ran up the steps of the tower to get to his sister.

Howland stayed behind for a moment, exhausted and nerves shot he looked to the men at his side fallen now and hoped and begged that they did not die in vain. It took him a moment to do so, but with heavy footsteps did he begin the climb of the tower himself.

It was dark inside, not many had been in here for a long time that could tend to much of anything. But it was what was in the air, that made Howland feel a lurch of sickness. The air was thick with the scent of blood and roses.

As he approached the door, he could hear the strained voice of Lyanna Stark in a quiet desperation, filled with a heavy love that radiated too with fear. He heard the faint pleas of her voice which was the last any would, though the door the words, “Promise me, Ned.”

Only even as Howland Reed stood outside of it, Lyanna and Eddard Stark were not alone in that room.

Winterfell was as sturdy as it had been in years. Work still being done to rebuild what was burned down and yet it was still impressive. But Howland Reed was here when he never came before. He didn't come for Robb Stark, and tried to ignore the raven from Castle Black from their once dead Queen.

He didn't answer that call of aid until he had received the news that Eddard Stark's final remaining child, his bastard son, had been crowned King in the North. Howland showed up then, and the very second he saw his face? He felt sick. As if he had never considered the truth of this secret until then and there.

Ned had watched him grow up every day of his life, but Howland had never met him until he walked quietly and unnoticed, into the meeting hall of Winterfell. Hidden amongst the other Lords. Finally understanding that he too, had not truly lived passed that day at the Tower of Joy.

But, upon the truth that Aegon Targaryean was not only living, but had landed in Westeros and had battle first on the island of Dragonstone? There was no words in Howland's mind to describe how it felt, realizing who his opponent in battle had been. Perhaps that was why he rode to Winterfell so quick.

If he had not been too cowardly to come face to face with the memory of a ghost, Howland Reed might have been there to prevent those two men from ever meeting in the first place.

From a tryst against the wall as you and Jon were making your way to the main hall of Winterfell to see to a meeting with the Northern Lords, you had not the concept in your mind of what your life days later would have become. But you also, couldn't have known how much it would make you spiral. How much it twisted your mind into something panicked that you did not recognize.

You suddenly felt without purpose that specific night, and left to go find another in case you lost all hope to keep going before finding it.

Attempts had been made for you to look as nondescript as you could manage, as the pair of you walked into the loud and bustling noise of the tavern. Evening had fallen upon the sky and those nearby in the city took refuge in some of the only entertainment they would get in these early months of winter. Men drinking, laughing and joking as they made jesting passes as the barmaid's serving them more as their nights went on.

The raven scroll had only been able to describe the building as having a wooden sign handing over the entrance of what looked like a horse reaching in the air. If what was said was accurate, they would be here if not tonight then at some point. Your hair was messy in it's looks as you had made sure not to let yourself appear as being used to much effort. The cloak around your shoulders was dark, shabby and only enough to have a hood and cover the equally as unimpressive dress as you fit mostly in with all the others.

Not a single weapon but one hidden dagger. A normal lowborn woman wouldn't be armed as such.

More than once you had to remind Olly not to call you by your title, or even name. Sat on the back of the horse he had asked you, “What am I supposed to call you then?” Thinking about it, your creativity was not quite as good as others and you told him to make one up. A few second passed as he then came up with, “Mya?” So you nodded, saying then Mya it was.

Barrowton was coming into the distance as you and Olly went over once more the covering. “I don't want any to realize who I am, we are here to be discreet. Understood?”

The sun shined low in the sky with a gold as evening fell upon you. Walking into the tavern, you both stood there looking no more out of place then any other. “What's the name of who we're here for?”

Looking around, it wasn't obvious right away if they were here. “For our purposes? They're going by the name Satin.” Olly asking you how would he know if they were here or not, you glanced over at him. “Do you know what I look like?”

Taken back, Olly's face twisted in a confusion. “Yes..”

Turning away, you nodded once. “Good. They look like that.” You knew the boy was struggling to tell if he were annoyed or amused by your dryness over the vague details you were barley offering up. But Olly had known something deeply was wrong from the moment this little journey begun.

He had come across you in a unusually uncomposed state, asking why were you looking as if you were ready to leave, despite the lateness of the hour. “Would you keep it a secret if I told you?” You had asked, and when he assured you yes, you narrowed your eyes.

“I won't tell the King this time I promise.” It wasn't his fault, but he could see a tear in your throat scratching down into your heart that left your eyes hazy as you shook yourself out of it in seconds. Clearing your throat you instructed him that he was not to tell anyone you were leaving for the next day at the least. Not knowing what to say when Olly had asked “Won't the King worry where you went?” You simply sent the boy on his way. Beacuse you didn't know how to tell him that he wouldn't just not worry.

Jon would be grateful you finally were gone.

What was it he wanted? What had he said to you? For you to leave and stop being a burden to him. Leave him alone as he wanted, even if he wanted it for good.

Sitting down, you had ordered water, bread and stew for Olly. Giving him a stern glance to the side as he almost went to speak out to attend to you in that same manner. He wasn't here as your steward, he was here because he hadn't wanted to be left behind and you didn't have the heart to say no to him.

You were leaving in the middle of the night in secret, and Olly had to promise he wouldn't say a word if he wanted to come. You didn't know when you would be returning, how long this would take, but after helping a grieving boy burn the remains of his mother and father, the least you could do was not leave him behind again.

Theon was going to be furious with you for this one.

What you didn't expect, was the sad whine in Ghost when you had finally taken off. Having been out hunting in the wolfswood, he had caught you in sight as he stood perched on a nearby cliff side looking down at you. Wishing he weren't so smart, you knew he could sense what you were doing out here and when you gently tried to call up to him, telling him to go back, that it was alright? Ghost whined, whined more when you gave him a sorrowful look, and you heard him still when you rode off.

Maybe when he got back to Jon, Ghost would pick up what happened and hate you too finally. You had done what was advised against, told Jon the truth and it seems like that truth came at the cost of whatever love was left in his heart for you. He deserved to know, not telling him was cruel, but telling him came at a great cost it felt.

You couldn't even recall the extent of how not normal your mind felt that night. The only thing screaming at you in a very specific voice that Jon didn't want you, and for whatever reason, that might have hurt you into a panic more then anything else. In Castle Black you had been scared you would ruin his life by being in it again, but now it finally came to fruition. You did ruin his life.

As you sat in the tavern, looking around for the one person left to you, you wondered if you should do Jon the courtesy, find a way to free him from his new vows, and leave him to find a better wife you always worried he would want instead. You were tired of being the one to bring him problems.

Only days ago, you had not the inkling of what a disaster one man's appearance in Winterfell would spin into. Days ago, you still thought what Jon felt for you would stay real. You still thought you made him happy, and you now felt that toxifying poison of self loathing at how wrong you were. You told Jon the truth, and your only conclusion, was that the truth made him hate you.

But as the barmaid passed your table, clucking a plate onto it it pulled you right out of the memory. Olly's eyes narrow and concerned on you, but you just grabbed whatever bread was closest on it, and pushed the plate more towards him.

Mumbling through your chewing with a lecturing look, “You're the one still growing. Eat.” But as you chewed, washing it down a bit your eyes found a figure in the distance, and it was exactly the strange reaction you wondered if it would feel. But you looked at them, as they saw you. Jon Arryn was still not wrong.

“The seed is strong.”

One drop of Baratheon blood and the two of you looked just the same here. You could only wonder as you both looked wide eyed at one another, how alone did they truly feel to have reached out to you of all people? It had been many years since that day on the Street of Steel, and you never had a good or safe reason to think you'd see them again. Pylos said they were all dead, all of Roberts bastards. And yet, this one wasn't. The one which lived, you shockingly already knew.

Gendry had travelled all the way North, to try and find you himself.

[snowbabys]

Jake Yandere Profile

(Disclaimer: I do not condone this behavior, nor think the idol acts like this in any way. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.)

. .. .♡·˚ 𝚃𝚆: toxic and obsessive behavior (obviously).

. .. .♡·˚ 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂/𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂: use of ‘gorgeous’ and ‘pretty’ (gender neutral).

Sim Jaeyun

Occupation: Pet shop employee Yandere type: Caring, clingy, and depending Violence level: 8/10 Danger level: 8/10 Punishment: 1/10

First time seeing you There weren’t many customers on the night shift, the exceptions being adults with crazy schedules or bored teenagers who made their pets an excuse to go out. You, on the other hand, were an exception among exceptions. Finding a starved stray kitten on the streets on your way home made your heart sink, and you took it without hesitation. You wrapped the kitten in a hug and rushed for its life, knowing there was a pet shop right down the street, near a vet facility.

“Good night, how can I help you?” Jake was strolling through his phone when you came up. Despite his welcoming tone, he didn’t look at you at first, only caring to meet your eyes when he heard you panting – and boy, oh boy, how gorgeous you are. He even dropped his phone on the desk, palms sweaty and face reddening.

“I… I need to feed this little one here, asap,” he could swear he saw the stars in your eyes.

It took him a minute to start moving around the shop to get what you needed, he was so mesmerized by your appearance. He kept looking at your face while you caressed the animal, only looking down to his feet when you caught him staring. With a flirtatious smile, he crouched down to touch the kitten’s head.

“Pretty boy/girl like you… such a shame you like cats.”

Personality/Traits

Don’t get fooled by his sweet words, caring actions, and physical affection. He may be a sweetheart to his friends and you, but he has his short limits with people (and trust me, you don’t wanna see this boy mad).

Will use the rescued kitten you keep bringing to the clinic next to the shop to see and talk to you.

It wasn’t long until he had your phone number, which he asked with the sweetest smile, knowing you wouldn’t say no.

He’s always so worried about you and your well-being. Buys you food, sends you morning and night messages (might keep you talking to him the whole day), shows up at your place randomly claiming that he was worried you’d be skipping meals due to stress – you were pretty sure you didn’t send him your address, but what could you say?

Also likes to take you on mini dates, such as a short walk around the neighborhood, a picnic in the park when he needs to take Layla out, or just bringing you to accompany him during his night shift, acting like your boyfriend so people don’t hit on you (secretly tells some he’s your actual boyfriend to keep them away).

At first, you thought he was just a protective best friend. He’s relieved you didn’t realize his murderous glare at the customer flirting with you the other day. He’s also happy you didn’t miss that coworker that kept buzzing you.

110% clingy. Will take any opportunity to hold your hands, touch your face, or any form of physical contact you allow him. He just loves how your skin feels against his.

Loves to cling to you when you’re doing anything, just to support and watch you.

Flirts blatantly with you ’cause he loves to see you all shy, but if you reply or flirt back, he becomes even shyer and hides his face into the crook of your neck.

Always napping on your shoulders and inviting you to join him. And he drools a bit too (if you bring it up to him, he’ll embarrassingly dismiss it and state he’s just leaving his smell on you).

He’s the type to brag about how you’re so attractive to his friends. Shows them his favorite pictures and goes on and on about how much he adores you and your personality, but as soon as they become interested, he’s all cranky and cutely protective.

Jake never fails to amaze you with the random gifts he gives you. As a result, you learn how attentive he is. If you mention you’re especially fond of a specific color, he’s only buying items in that color.

In addition, he randomly sends you photographs of clothing he thinks you’ll like and asks what size you want it (don’t even dare mention money to him, he’ll stop you immediately).

Jake wants to watch every single movie release with you. He prefers to have you come to his house rather than go to the movies, so he can be close to you while sharing and learning your favorite genres, tv shows, and actors/actresses.

Pictures and more pictures. He’s taking as many as he can while you’re around, he has so many folders dedicated to your pics (more about this trait here).

Book recommendations constantly, and if you’re a bookworm, he’ll read every book you mention.

He may recommend a physics book (at least pretend you’re interested and you have all his heart).

He’s been told by his closest friends that he’s a bit too infatuated with you, but his response it’s always how he’s proud that he loves someone that much. Let’s be honest, he’s a sweetheart.

Pet names:

Baby boy/girl

Kitten

Babe

Love

PDA:

If you’re okay with PDA, he’s in heaven. Jake won’t be shy about it at all, especially because he gets to demonstrate his affection in front of people who might have their eyes on you.

He always has his hands on you, whether holding your own hands or around your waist, never forgetting to caress the area so you feel relaxed.

Long-lasting back hugs, cheek kisses, piggyback rides to anywhere, he’s in for it all.

It’s not like he gives you any chance to start physical contact, but he’ll be the happiest man alive if you start it – be it a surprise hug or blocking his eyes with your hands when you visit him in the shop.

If you react negatively to any of his physical advances, he’ll be understanding and more than happy with just holding hands or being by your side.

back to masterlist | sunghoon yandere profile

© snowbabys 2023 | do not repost.

[steddiealltheway]

Part Nine of Alone Together :))))))))) Part One. Part Eight. AO3 Link.

The first part of Steve’s day is spent mostly on the phone. “Come on, dude. You told me it was the ‘most metal concert in the world.’ How do you not remember what Eddie’s guitar looked like?” 

“I was focused on more important things – like saving your asses and not dying. Besides, you saw it too, so go ask Gareth or something.” 

Dustin hangs up without giving him an address or a phone number. So helpful. He racks his mind for something on Gareth. He remembers Eddie saying something about how Jason had beat him up for his location – he was really pissed about Jason laying a finger on his friend at his home. 

...Which Lucas witnessed! He calls him up and gets a vague recalling of the address, but it works. 

Steve finds himself hesitantly approaching a house, praying that maybe he got it right on the first try. He raises his fist and goes to knock. 

The steady beat of a drum gets Steve’s attention. He turns around and heads across the street, following the sound. He gets outside of a garage door where the loud noise is ringing out. This seems about right. He pounds on the garage door. The drumming stops. 

There’s a creak as the garage door slowly comes up to reveal Gareth standing in the middle of the garage holding the cord. “Shit!” Gareth yells letting the cord go but the garage door doesn’t go back down. He looks up at it like it’s personally offended him then back at Steve. “Please don’t beat me up. It’s Christmas, dude. What do you want?” 

Steve puts his hands up. “I promise I’m not friends with that asshole Jason. I just wanted to know if you knew what type of guitar Eddie had before. Or if you had any pictures of it or something.” Gareth’s eyebrows furrow, he looks confused and still very on edge. Steve sighs, “It’s a Christmas present for him. And I really like him, but I’m also an idiot who constantly puts his foot in his mouth, so I need this present to be really special.” 

Gareth still stares at him, but his confusion turns more into shock. “You’re Steve Harrington, right?” 

Steve nods. 

“Holy shit, I thought Eddie was lying about you and your whole big change. But you said you... like him?” Gareth asks carefully. 

Steve’s heart thuds, but he feels like he can really trust him. “A lot, man. Like... a lot.” 

Gareth’s guarded expression finally fades. He smiles knowingly at Steve, and motions for him to follow him. He digs through a box in the garage and lets out an “aha!” when he finally gets what he was looking for. He hands Steve a polaroid. 

Steve looks down at the picture of Eddie sticking his tongue out and making the devil horns with his fingers. His shirt rides up a little, showing off his flat stomach but it’s partially covered by his guitar. 

“See something you like, Harrington?” Gareth asks with a smirk.  

Steve lightly shoves at him but replies, “Yeah, I think I do.” 

Gareth whistles low. “Charm level thirty, am I right?” Gareth asks with a laugh. 

Steve stares at him blankly. 

“Oh god,” Gareth says in horror, “And you’re the Steve Harrington that Eddie Munson says saved him?” 

“The one and only,” Steve replies lamely.  

He swears Gareth mumbles something like, “And this is who Eds is so in love with? Christ,” but he says it so under his breath that Steve’s sure he heard him wrong. He clears his throat and speaks at a normal level gesturing towards the picture, “I hope this helps.” 

Steve nods and tears his eyes away from it. “It does. Thank you so much man. Do you mind if I keep it? For guitar purposes,” Steve clarifies. 

“Yeah, for guitar purposes,” Gareth shoots back with a grin. Steve can tell him and Eddie will be relentless together, but he can’t wait. 

“Thank you again. And good finally meeting you. Eddie has said a lot about you. Merry Christmas,” Steve claps Gareth on the shoulder and starts to leave the garage. 

“Same to you,” Gareth replies, but the teasing lilt to his voice makes Steve wonder if maybe Eddie talks about him a lot too.  

By the time he gets back to his car, Gareth has already started back at the drums but with a bit more enthusiasm as he ups the tempo. Steve smiles and heads towards the closest store that sells instruments that he can think of. 

-:-:-:-:-:-

“Nope, we don’t have anything like that here in Hawkins. Sorry.” 

Steve’s heart drops. Shit shit shit. “Could you please write down the make and model or whatever it’s called in instrument terms of this guitar?” 

The man seems to take pity on him and writes something down on a sticky note and hands it to him. “Merry Christmas,” the man says and moves on to another customer. 

“Merry Christmas!” Steve yells, running out the store. 

Once again, Steve finds himself on the phone after circling several stores in his parent’s phone book. He gets increasingly more frustrated as each business says they have nothing like Eddie’s guitar in stock especially so close to Christmas. Steve thanks them and leaves him his number anyway. Shit, he’s down to the last store. 

He goes through the same process and hopes for a Christmas miracle. “I’m sorry, we don’t have that in our store, and you said you needed it by Christmas?” a kind lady asks. 

“Yes, but thank you for your time.” Steve sighs and leaves his name and number. 

“Must be for someone really special to have you sounding that down,” she pries a bit, sounding sympathetic. 

“Yeah, yeah they really are,” Steve replies. There’s a hum on the other line. 

“I’ll see what I can do for you. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” Steve replies kindly and hangs up. He sits back against his counter. Okay, different plan. He’ll... wash up Eddie’s battle vest and give it back. 

Yeah, that will work.  

Or will that send the wrong message? Like, here, I’ve had this for months, and now I’m finally returning it to you like an ex returns their things. 

Steve shakes his head. After his talk with Eddie, there’s no way he’ll misinterpret it. 

No, he needs to think of another idea. He paces his house and comes up with a few things, but nothing is as good or as grand as a gesture as the guitar. He groans, regretting waiting until the last minute. 

Speaking of last minute... Steve needs to start getting ready for Christmas caroling. He takes his time getting ready, carefully layering his clothes and taking a good amount of time on his hair until it looks practically perfect. 

He’s doing his final puff of Farrah Fawcett hair spray when he hears the phone ring. He wonders what kid is going to be asking him for a ride. 

He quickly answers. “Hello?” 

“Is this Steve Harrington?” a familiar voice asks. 

“Yes?” 

“You called my store earlier. I called in a favor and will have the guitar in stock tomorrow around three pm. The store closes at five. Does that work for you?” 

“Yes! Thank you so much! Really, thank you. Merry Christmas!” 

The lady on the other line laughs. “Merry Christmas.” Steve writes down the name and address of the place and thanks her again. 

Steve could jump for joy. He looks around before doing exactly that. Today is a good day. 

-:-:-:-:-:- 

Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as he parks his car next to the others outside the trailer park. Eddie’s uncle had insisted that the government’s relocation had been the most uncomfortable stay of his life, and he just wanted to have things go back to normal. So, they had gotten a new and slightly nicer trailer home and relocated to the outskirts of the same trailer park.  

Max hadn’t ever explicitly said that she was secretly happy to have him there, but Steve knew she was especially since she had always seemed to be there whenever he had come by to help Eddie with his similar healing process.  

He shakes the thoughts away to question if this is really a good idea. Eddie is probably still pissed at him, and he’s pretty sure Dustin won’t be able to talk Eddie down this time. There’s a knock on his window. 

“Join the land of the freezing,” Robin says. 

Steve opens up his car door and shivers as the cold wind stings his face. He cuddles up against Robin and asks, “Do you think this is a horrible idea?” 

“Probably,” Robin says honestly. “But everyone is pretty excited.” 

“Hey! What song are we singing first?” Suzie yells at Steve. 

He takes a moment. Oh shit, he didn’t think about it. “Uhhh...” he trails off trying to think. 

“’Rocking Around the Christmas Tree,’” Robin yells back. Steve gives her a look. “Gives you a chance to finally sing the chorus like Eddie talked about.” 

Steve gives her an incredulous look and glances around to find Nancy. When he spots her, he says, “Nancy, you have the best girlfriend in the entire world.” 

“I know,” she replies and hooks her arm around Robin’s free one. 

They all start on their way to Eddie’s trailer, and Steve hopes he doesn’t look out the window because he imagines they look more threatening than jolly. When they get there Dustin shoves him forward saying, “This was your idea.” 

Steve raises his hand and hesitates. Here goes nothing. He knocks. 

The door swings open and a slightly miserable looking Eddie opens the door. “Steve...” 

The group erupts in a horrendous rendition of ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.’ Steve is pretty sure Eddie says, “Jesus H. Christ,” under his breath a few times, while standing a bit uncomfortably in the doorway. 

The group comes to an end when Steve finally cuts them off after he’s pretty sure no one know where they are in the song and have sung the same chorus three times in a row. “Alright, alright, thank you guys. I’ll catch up with you guys in a couple of minutes after I convince Eddie to join us.” 

When Steve turns back, Eddie’s eyebrows are raised looking a bit done with him. He hopes it’s just about his remark and not in general. The group waves their goodbyes and Robin shoots him a thumbs up. 

Steve smiles apologetically at Eddie. He sighs and backs up, “Come on in.” 

Steve thanks him as he steps into the warm trailer. “I’m sorry-” 

“I’m sorry-” 

They both look at each other in disbelief. Steve beats him to talking first. “Eddie, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while-” 

Eddie interrupts him quickly “No, no, it’s okay. I realized that you were just trying to end things before anyone got feelings and got hurt. I overreacted, and I’m sorry.” 

Before anyone got feelings. Oh. “Yeah, yeah. I was just... looking after you. Looking after us,” Steve lies. 

“Because that’s what friends do,” Eddie says, fidgeting with his rings. 

“Yeah, friends,” Steve confirms.  

The air between them is still tense. Steve steps into Eddie’s space and wraps his arms around him, hooking his chin over his shoulder. He breathes a sigh of relief when he feels Eddie’s arms go up and pull him in closer, burying his head in his neck. “I think we need to work on our communication skills,” Eddie mutters against his neck. 

Steve nearly snorts at the irony of the statement. He resists the strong urge to kiss Eddie on the forehead as he says, “Yeah, I think we really do.” 

They linger in the hug for a moment longer than Steve thinks friends are supposed to, but he’s pretty sure him and Eddie have never had the most conventional friendship. Steve breaks the hug remembering Eddie’s concern. “Get some warmer clothes on, man, you’re going caroling with us.” 

Eddie pouts but heads off towards his room calling out, “I didn’t sign up for this!” 

“Don’t worry, I signed up for you!” Steve jokes. 

“You’re going to regret that!” Eddie yells out. 

And maybe he was right because once they catch up to the group, he sings obnoxiously loud and off-key – although Steve knows he can sing. Whenever he doesn’t know the words, he fills in the verse by singing “I don’t know the words” in whatever tune they’re singing until he can recall a few. 

As they move on to another trailer, Steve shoves his arm, “You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

“I told you that you were going to regret it,” Eddie states, leaning into his space until Steve pushes him away with a laugh. Steve looks at the group far ahead from them and says, “Come on slow poke.” 

As he jogs off and Eddie follows, Steve hears him ask, “Is that the best insult that you...” he trails off. Steve glances over at him as he approaches the group with what he’s sure is a confused look. “Steve, we need to leave.” 

Now Steve can tell when Eddie is joking, and, right now, he is not. Before he can tell the group, he already hears the problem, “You guys look familiar...” the owner of the trailer says. 

Steve looks towards the man and immediately recognizes him. 

“Nah, there must be some kind of mistake here, man. We’re just Christmas carolers,” Argyle says with a laugh, unaware of what’s happening. 

Steve tugs on Dustin’s shoulder and whispers, “Get on my back.” 

“What?” Dustin questions. 

“Are you the people who stole my RV?!” the man yells.  

“Oh fuck,” Dustin says and jumps on Steve’s back. 

“Run!” Steve yells, taking off with Dustin on his back. 

The group sprints beside him while Argyle asks, “You guys stole his trailer?!” 

The group yells back, “Run!” 

Steve sees Max starting to trail behind the others. Fuck, Steve had forgotten that Vecna had broken her leg too. Her recovery process was faster than Dustin’s because that girl is a freak of nature, but now it’s starting to get the best of her. 

A streak of brown hair passes by him. “Hop on, Red!” Eddie yells, and squats in front of her. As soon as she’s on his back, Eddie is sprinting away past all the others as he spots their cars. 

Damn, that should not be as hot as Steve finds it. 

When they get to the cars, the older man is far behind them. The group gets into random cars and start driving off. Steve stays last in his car with Dustin, Eddie, and Max to ensure no one gets left behind. 

By the time they’re on the road, Eddie is cackling and grabbing Steve’s hand. Steve can’t help but laugh as well and squeeze Eddie’s hand back. Even though they’re just friends, today is a good day. 

Part Ten.

Tag List <33:

@eddiesbabe95 @hagbaby420 @grtwdsmwhr @mightbeasleep @saramelaniemoon @bidisastersworld @spectrum-spectre @henderdads @wrenisflying @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @strangerthings1983fan @haluton @silversnaffles @thosemessyvibes @fandemonium-takes-its-toll

[nerves-nebula]

Shrek the Third:

——

Raph learned after Mikey.

He was out with Casey. Not, like, out out. Just out. Not that he really wanted to be out out with Casey. Haha. Whaaaat? That would be weird.

“Dude, five bucks I can shove this whole thing down my throat.” Casey beamed, holding up the enormous hot dog he’d just bought from a street vendor.

“You lubed it up with enough ketchup and mustard to drown most humans.” Raph gestured to the thing, dripping as it was, “I’m not taking that. You just want me to watch you choke on some long meat.”

Casey snorted with laughter, jabbing his elbow into Raph’s arm. He still decided to try to swallow the whole thing down, looking like one of those weird birds at the park while he did.

The theme song to Revolutionary Girl Utena chimed through the air and Raph pulled out his phone, answering Mikey’s call.

“Bro, what-“

“Raph, you have to get to the hospital. I tried calling Leo but he’s not answering.”

“Whoa, slow down, bud, what’s going on?” He immediately got to his feet, turning his back to Casey.

“It’s Donnie. Donnie, he- he…” Mikey broke down crying, unable to finish his statement.

Raph’s heart shattered. Donnie was hurt and Mikey was crying. He hated not being close by to comfort his brother, and being able to still hear him sobbing only made it hurt worse. His instincts told him to grab Mikey, to hold him close and shield him against anything and everything, but he couldn’t, not when Mikey was so far…

“What hospital?”

Mikey’s voice cracked a few times before he managed to speak up again, “M-ma’am, what’s the name of this hospital?” His sniffled loud, directly into the microphone, “Hidden City Main Hospital. Go through the Emergency gate. I- I can’t get ahold of Leo, Raph. She doesn’t know, she- she was shopping today. You know she ignores her phone.”

“I’ll get ahold of Leo. You call April. They probably won’t let her or Casey in but it’s better to keep everyone informed.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Mikey. Take a deep breath. I need you to tell me what happened.”

He heard Mikey follow his instructions.

“Did Donnie text you?”

“A little while ago. He said he left something for me in my room, but I’m up top with Casey.”

“It’s a suicide note, Raph. At least, I think it is. He had one here with him, too. He drank something, I don’t know what it was but the doctor said it wasn’t good.” Mikey’s voice was breaking again, “It was addressed to whoever found him. He’s been planning this, Raphie. He had all of our numbers written down and April’s and Casey’s. Fuck, he even had Splinter’s old number on there, he was just gonna- he- if I hadn’t turned around, he would be-“

“Mikey!” Raph snapped, “Mikey, focus, okay? The doctors will do what they can, but we need to be together. Call Leo and April. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” He turned, looking at Casey, who had since bitten and swallowed his hot dog. He mimed the words ‘Text Leo’ to him, which he immediately pulled out his phone to do. “Look, buddy, I’m up near Time Square so it’ll be a bit before I can get there. Focus on getting Leo and April, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“I’m gonna hang up and try getting Leo’s attention too, okay? He has to answer one of us.”

“Okay.”

Raph hung up and turned to Casey. Casey just nodded. He didn’t need Raph to explain, he could hear the worry in his friend’s tone, the fear in his posture. Casey didn’t care what the problem was, just how he could help. He followed Raph without question, getting them on his bike to find the nearest entrance to the Hidden City. Raph filled him in on the way, in clipped sentences that only provided what he knew.

Donnie had made a suicide attempt.

Mikey found him.

He was in the hospital.

Leo wasn’t answering.

—

Casey got them to the hospital quick. Given that he didn’t actually have a license, human or yokai, he didn’t actually care to much about breaking traffic laws. Two officers stopped them when they finally parked, but Casey let Raph hurry inside and while he dealt with the cops.

Mikey was in the waiting room.

“Leo still isn’t answering, but April is on her way. She said she’d stop by the apartment to get him.” Mikey grabbed Raph’s hands, tear tracks staining his face, “I haven’t seen any of the doctors that took Donnie since they brought him to the back.”

“You did good, Mikey.” Raph pulled him in close, squeezing him tight, “You did such a good job, you did everything right. I’ve got you, Mike. Raph is here. Raph has you.”

Mikey broke down again in his arms. Raph cried with him. Partway through he registered a human hand resting on his shell, soothingly tracing the pattern of his scutes in the way Casey liked to do.

When Mikey finally settled, they all got to work texting and calling Leo.

——

Damn, Donnie, your depression interrupted Raph’s gay thoughts. RIP.

-Monster Anon

you're really savin my ass with this today. i am having a BAD ONE. also goddamn if you aren't on a roll. i posited this idea last night at like 2 AM and you've already written 3 whole whatchamacallits.

im swirling this shit around in a glass like its wine. hell yeah.

also i had to look up what a scute was lol.

[freakattack]

I found this video essay about Wario and I want to know what you think of it. youtu(.)be/jSzc28SIvKQ

First of all, i am obsessed with how this ask is formatted like a phishing scam directly tailored to me. This is not a dig at you at all, but this message did make me realize that if someone actually sent me a malware link with the word "wario" on it, i would fall for it without question. Much to think about. Anyways

I did see this video in my recommended for a while but i never clicked on it because i was afraid i would get mad at it. Something about me that may surprise you is that i get really mad about stupid shit. I have to know my limits. But after doing some breathing exercises and drinking some water, i steeled my nerves enough to watch this video, just for you. And it's pretty good! It's by the tamatoa guy, and I don't remember any of the tamatoa guy's other videos but at least one must have left a positive enough impression on me that I trust the tamatoa guy to talk about wario at me. He didn't even fall into the trap of "wario land wario is completely separate from warioware wario", which would have made me eat my leg probably! But I appreciate that he thoroughly researched for this video despite having stumbled into the World Of Wario by pure chance; he even got sound bomber in there. He leaves the question of wario's relationship with waluigi open, which I can only assume is because he's hinting at a future waluigi video because there's no way he didn't figure it out after all that sleuthing. He did introduce to me a disquieting question that I had not stopped to consider until he said it out loud: What would I do if a stranger stopped me on the street to ask me "Who is Wario"? Would I give them a clinical rundown of his wikipedia article? Would I wax poetic about how he has inspired me to become a better person? Would I die? Hard to say. It makes me sad that 9 out of 10 people on the street presumably do not know him like we do, but I realize now that that is why this video is so important. This is a public wario announcement. But to address the central thesis of the video: yeah. I disagree with the idea that mario kart wario is particularly lacking in characterization compared to other incarnations - I play as him specifically to hear his Warioisms when I lose - but I agree with the general sentiment being presented here, which is that WarioWare the company is what allowed wario to finally shed the rivalry that was holding him back prior to his foray into game design. Don't get me wrong, wario will never fully be okay with mario, but now it's moreso a simple desire to dunk on him than festering hatred and envy. Wario used to be "the evil mario", but nowadays mario isn't even in his top 3 rivals. (The top 3, if you're wondering, are syrup, pyoro, and - at number one - toad. Can't say I blame him.) The fact that this microgame exists at all is a testament to how far he's come:

It's funny too, because I was just thinking the other day about how wario's friends basically domesticated the guy. A couple decades ago he spent his days terrorizing woodland creatures and putting curses on forests, and now all he does in the woods is hang out and grill hotdogs for a flock of animals and children. Finally, a wario for the whole family!

Other thoughts i had:

-Appreciate the wario world acknowledgement. In my heart of hearts i want to believe that there is a wario-esque doppelganger of my own out there that is just as passionate about Wario World as i am about warioware. Where are the dinomighty comics? I know they're out there

-I did actually get mad exactly once during the video, and it was at the very very end when he used the "what if wario had a website" question just to plug squarespace because wario's websites are some of my favorite websites on this god damn planet. I don't hold this against him because it's not his fault but it kind of felt like he kicked my dog. But that's the only time! I still deserve a sticker for that.

-On a meta level, I think wario's character development is a beautiful testament to how the cartoon characters that we shape with our hearts and minds can become so real that they begin to shape themselves. I know i'm the wario guy but believe it or not i have made my own flock of cartoon characters, and it is a beautiful feeling when they start naturally coming into their own like that. I always took this quote at face value but the interview where they say that "wario is really stupid and is always doing idiotic things" totally represents that turning point moment for him. Not that his character fits the role, or that it would be funny to have him do stupid things, but that he's already doing them! In real life! You hear that, Wario? You're a real boy!

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day eleven

"Well, that worked out great."

original fiction (power payback)

word count: 1682

It was rare that someone sought Magni out when it came to cases he consulted on. 

When the phone on his desk rang, he was caught off guard. No one called his work number. Not even his mother when she was desperate to reach him. 

Reluctantly, he removed an earplug and lifted it off the cradle. “This is Hillson Consulting Services. I’m Magni Quinn. How can I help you today?”

“Magni Quinn?” the voice on the other end repeated. It was a woman’s voice, deep and raspy. “My name is Ms. Fay. I have some information about that string of robberies you’ve been investigating. The ones in Westside?” 

He leaned back in his chair. “I’m not the detective on that case. I just gave counsel on possible Talent involvement.” There had been none, at least that he’d found. The shop owners had just called them in because Westside had the most Talents, where he’d grown up. Just the kind of nonsense job Hillson sent him on when he did get tired of sitting behind a computer. “I suggest you call Detective Pallas if you have any details pertaining to those robberies.” 

“Ah, but-” She paused. “Nevermind. I thought you just might be more willing to take me seriously.” 

Magni looked around the small office. Hillson’s door was closed, and his coworkers were busy with their own cases or out. “What is it?” 

“I’d prefer it if we talked in person,” Ms. Fay said. 

“You and me both,” he muttered. Though the phones in Hillson’s office still ran on old-fashioned landlines, he still hated calling people rather than talking face to face. “Where do you want to meet?” 

“Oh, no.” She laughed nervously. “You need to come to me. My address is 7118 Geffen Road.” 

As he jotted it down, he wondered if he was being pranked. “Alright. When-”

“Any time. As soon as you want.” 

“Fine.” Magni sighed. “I will-” He glanced at his computer. The case of finding who was diverting links on the Studio 99 website to the Youtube video for Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” seemed much less interesting now - and that was saying something. “I’m heading over now.” 

“Thank you.”

He hung up the phone and stuck his other earplugs in. Magni locked his computer and grabbed his keys, but his escape wouldn’t be that easy. Hillson opened his door right as he stood up from his cubicle. 

“Quinn! Where are you going?” 

Magni opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly. “I’ll be back,” he decided on, nodding. 

“You’re an awful liar,” Hillson told him. 

“I didn’t even try to lie,” Magni said, leaving his cubicle. 

“I know you were trying to.” 

That was fair. But Hillson didn’t stop him as he headed towards the door. 

Ms. Fay’s place wasn’t in Westside. It was closer to the Resorts District, which meant he had to cross Bright City Boulevard and the traffic that always plagued it just to find her address. When he did finally find 7118 Geffen Road, Magni realized why the police didn’t take her seriously. 

The two-story house faced the street, the glowing sign in the window clear for any passing tourist to see - “PSYCHIC” with the outline of a star. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He parked on the street and walked up to the door. Living in Bright City, Magni should have been used to the weird. But as many Talents as he’d met, both on and off the job, he knew psychics weren’t real. 

Still, he was here now. 

Magni knocked on the front door. From inside, he heard the voice from the phone call, “Come inside! I’ll be with you shortly.” 

He opened the door and stepped inside the entry. A staircase led up stairs, with a narrow entry and an archway that opened to - well, it should have been a living room, but calling it a parlor seemed more accurate. Heavy curtains shrouded the room in darkness. A fancy but worn red couch was pressed up against the wall, under a tapestry of violet and crimson knots. 

Without his earplugs in, he heard a couple of smartphones, a computer somewhere deeper in the house. 

Magni stepped into the parlor. It was empty, but another pair of curtains separated it and another room. He figured that must have been where Ms. Fay did her business. 

He sat on the couch tentatively and nearly thought about texting Sprout. But this wasn’t the kind of thing to text her about. She’d think he was dying if he had to text her about it. No, it would be a better story to tell her over dinner. 

The curtains parted just enough for two young women in their twenties, one with a ‘bride-to-be’ sash over her short dress, to step out. “Thank you, Ms. Fay.” 

As they walked out, giggling, Magni tapped his fingers against his knee and wondered if this was really worth the scoop. Shit, he wasn’t even the actual investigator on the case. And what would Detective Pallas think if he did pass it along? Hillson was right, he was a terrible liar. He just had to hope she would actually believe him if he said he got his information from a psychic. 

The curtains opened again. He wasn’t sure who had expected the woman who had called him to be. Maybe an older white woman with a touch of cultural appropriation. Instead, a short, Black woman walked out. She definitely wasn’t much older than him, with thick, black curls with no touch of gray. She wore a deep purple dress that nearly brushed the ground and billowed with every step she took towards him. 

“Magni,” she said, before he could even stand to greet her. “I hope you can overlook your skepticism. May I interest you in a reading?” 

He tried to say no, but she was already disappearing back into her reading room. 

With a sigh, Magni followed her in. The room was lit by candles, making him feel a little disoriented in the dim light. “I don’t want a reading-” 

“I know,” Ms. Fay said. “You want your information. You think this is a waste of your time, and that I’m not what you expected, which- I’m only 31. And you must be gay, because most straight men notice my cleavage first.” 

He struggled to find the words to answer any of those claims, but only one answer came to mind, which she so helpfully filled in as well.

“And by now, you’ve figured out that I’m a telepath.” 

Ms. Fay smiled as she took a seat at the circular table in the room, looking at him expectantly. 

“Yes.” Magni took the seat across from her. “Are you going to talk over me the whole time?” 

“No. But please excuse my impatience.” 

He laid his hands on the table. “Is this reading the only way to get you to talk?” 

Ms. Fay picked up the deck of tarot cards in the middle of the table. “Let’s call it trust building.” As she started to shuffle them, she asked, “You’re a Talent, right? You work for Hillson.”

“Yes. Technopathy.” 

“Then I think you understand why I operate like this.” She met his eyes, hands still moving deftly. “My therapist said I’m an agoraphobe. I just think it’s too loud outside.”

He sighed. “Now that’s something I understand.” 

Ms. Fay spread the deck out in front of him. “Pick three cards and don’t look at them. Just hand them to me, in the order that you pull them out.” 

Magni did as she asked, picking at random. He’d never done one of these before. All he could hope was that it led to some kind of helpful outcome. 

She laid out the three cards for him, straightening up the remaining cards. “Here’s my secret, Mr. Quinn. Tarot is a symbolism game. I read the thoughts of my clients - what they desire, what they don’t even know they desire, what they fear, what they- well, you get the drill.” 

Ms. Fay flipped the first card over. “Five of coins. Someone’s fallen on hard times. They can’t keep a job. They get kicked out their apartment and have to crash on their cousin’s couch, down on Westside.” She turned over the next. “Seven of swords. They come up with a plan. Break into a few pawn shops in Westside. No one will look at them. They’re just a normie. Flying under the radar.” Finally, she flipped over the third. “Two of wands. They didn’t think this through enough, though. Everyone knows what’s been stolen. They can’t sell what they’ve stolen. They need guidance, ‘cause they think they’ve outsmarted you and Detective Pallas, but not enough. They need to know their next move.” 

“So the suspect came here?” 

“Bingo. I heard all that, did a little googling, and-” She picked up the next card on her deck, and grinned. “Huh.” Ms. Fay turned it around. A figure sat on a throne, a sword in one hand and a set of scales in the other. “Justice. Well, that worked out great.” She set the card down. “Think this was a waste of time now?” 

Magni leaned back in his chair. “You want the honest answer?” 

She laughed. “You ask like I don’t already know. Your perp’s name is Jerome Grover. I have his number and his credit card information, but you don’t need that last part. And if you do tell Detective Pallas about my parlor tricks, don’t tell her all my secrets.” 

He stood. “You know what they say. Honor among Talents.” 

“I thought it was honor among thieves,” Ms. Fay said, writing down Jerome’s name and number.

“If it were, I think you’ve broken that code, Ms. Fay.” He took the card from her. “If that’s even your real name.”

“Yes. It’s real. Althea Fay.” She rose. 

“What do I owe you?” 

“Nothing. Just being a good Samaritan. And hopefully, finding someone who understands.” 

Magni stuck the card in his pocket with a smile. “I think I do.” 

[bluejay-writes]

MysticTober Day 7: Ephemeral

Prompt: Chatroom / Bomb

Wordcount: 2359

Author's Notes: Good Luck.

You can read this on Ao3 if you want!

MC spun around in a circle in the sunlight, relishing in the day. Or well, she would be, if she didn’t have the weirdest feeling. She’d finished college, her internship was over, she hadn’t landed a new job, and was currently staying in a hotel until she found a new apartment. Honestly, if she disappeared right now, she wasn’t sure if anyone would even know she was gone for months. That was normal for her, really. Ever since her parents passed when she was a teen, she’d had the hardest time making and keeping friendships, and the ones she did make were tied to school.

And that was why she was going to make a change. Do something different. Find herself some friends, maybe a boyfriend, and get her life started right. And to do that… She pulled out her phone. She’d downloaded an app that claimed she could use it to talk to cute boys, and she was all about that. She tapped to open the app and was startled by the glitchy-looking background. Hmm. Must be a tutorial.

Unknown: …Hello…? Unknown: Can you see this? MC: Hey there! Of course I can see it! Unknown: Finally connected. Thank god. Unknown: Oh. You’re nice. That’s… good. Unknown: I found this phone in a subway station. It’s just got this app and some address and a code number in it. MC: Sounds spooky. Unknown: Yeah, yeah, I know but… I’m abroad right now, you wouldn’t happen to be in Seoul would you?

MC blinked. What were the odds?

MC: I thought this app was for chatting with pretty boys? Unknown: What? Oh. I mean maybe? I don’t know, it’s the only thing on this phone and.. well. Unknown: Maybe the owner of this phone is a pretty boy? MC: Oh, that would make sense. Maybe I can meet him if I help return his phone. How can I help? Unknown: Uhm, I’d like for you to go to the address saved here. Unknown: I saw the street view through the internet, it’s an apartment in downtown. Very crowded. Not Sketchy. Please? MC: Of course! Throw me that address! Unknown: You trust me… Thank you! Just a sec, I’ll send you the address.

MC waited, and sure enough a map ping came in. She was literally two blocks over from the place. She walked over, and got there to see… well, the apartment existed. That was a start.

Unknown: Are you there? ^^ See. Nothing strange. Unknown: Is there a password lock on the door? MC: Sure is! Unknown: I’ll send you the digits saved in this phone! Try it!

MC saw the password blink in - 14 digit code, 14th floor apartment. This person sure had a thing for the number 14. She tapped in the password, and the door unlocked with a quiet click.

MC: Whoa. The door’s open now. Unknown: Good. Why don’t you go inside? MC: But…  Unknown: We have to leave a note, right? MC: Yeah, legit.

She went inside and the door clicked shut behind her. Good, now no one weird could follow her in while she left a note for this cute guy. She looked back at her phone to get the person’s info to leave, and realized her phone had settled into some other chatroom and was moving on without her. Weird. Very weird.

MC sat down at the desk, looking for a pen and paper to leave a note even as the chatroom noticed she was there. No pen. No paper. She should leave, she didn’t even have anything to tell this person anymore, and she didn’t want them to think that she was breaking in to steal things if they suddenly came back. Which they probably wouldn’t because they were likely overseas where they lost their phone. But still. She stood and went to the door and attempted to open it. It was locked. No code panel on this side, not that she’d memorized the long code, but also the deadbolt spun uselessly. She was locked in? Rude! Maybe she could talk to this random chat? Maybe they knew.

She didn’t bother to read back through the long chat she’d missed trying to leave the apartment. She didn’t have time for that. What if someone called the police already?

MC: Hello…

The chatroom freaked out, emojis, calling her it. MC couldn’t help but chuckle. Based on their profile pictures, the app hadn’t lied to her. She really was chatting with cute boys, even if the setting wasn’t really what she expected.

707: Oh… ^^; Wait. 707: Just found something. This is weird. ZEN: What is it? 707: I traced the IP. It’s from Rika’s apartment.

Everyone was confused and upset. Including MC… Rika was a woman’s name. Which meant the phone belonged to a different woman who also wanted to chat with cute boys, as opposed to a cute boy. And here she was trespassing. She was the worst.

MC: Listen, my name is MC. I just wanted to help return a lost phone, and now I’m in this chatroom with you all instead of connected to the person I was helping. MC: I’m sure it’s all a weird app glitch and I’ll be back out of your hair in no time flat. MC: Not that I wouldn’t love to stay, going off your profile pictures you’re all gorgeous.

MC watched as there was silence in the chat before they all started talking at once. Everyone seemed horrified that this 707 made a mistake with the app. Maybe she was in the secret dev chat or something?

Jaehee Kang: Could it be that we have a security breach? ZEN: True… MC, how did you get in that apartment? MC: Unknown gave me the code. 707: Unknown? MC: Yeah, I was connected to a stranger through this app and he sent me the address. Jumin Han: Chatting with a stranger… Jumin Han: How naive. MC: I mean that’s the whole point of the app so I don’t know why you’re all up in my business about it supposedly-Jumin-Han. ZEN: I think we’re more surprised that you just went to an address from a chatting app. Yoosung: Don’t listen to strangers ~ the world is dangerous. Jaehee Kang: I agree. 707: Wait, do you have that person’s username or chat record? MC: The username was ‘Unknown’, and the only thing the app has now is this chat. Jumin Han: Does the username not exist? Why is it ‘Unknown’? MC: Well, I mean I never set mine and it knew me, so… 707: That’s just weird. I made it impossible to log in without a username… MC: So this IS the dev chat 707: It’s the only chat, so. MC: I’m confused. Yoosung: That makes all of us confused. Zen: Mood. 707: I think we’re dealing with another hacker. 707: Hey, MC. So Unknown told you the address and the password for the door lock? MC: Yeah. Jumin Han: I see. That ‘Unknown’ person seems to have dragged you unwittingly into this. Jaehee Kang: MC, where did you get this app? MC: I just wanted to chat with pretty boys… ZEN: Me? You wanted to chat with me? Jumin Han: Completely out of his mind. Yoosung: Yee. 707: I should trace the person who distributed the app. Jumin Han: If what she’s saying is true… Jaehee Kang: …I think it would be a good idea to contact V. 707: Yeah. I think that’s a good idea. 707: I’ll call and explain everything. Jumin Han: I can call. 707: Already on it lol

Seven fidgeted while he waited for V to pick up, staring at the camera feeds for the apartment, and digging through the feeds for the rest of the building to see when she arrived and what her expressions were like.  She really did look like she was just following instructions. She even paused at the door and texted someone, and then copied the code from a message on her screen. On his other monitors he’d pulled up a background check on her. She was practically no one, exactly the kind of person the agency liked to get their hands on for  infiltration missions, but he knew she wasn’t on their roster and RIka’s apartment wasn’t somewhere the agency would be trying to get into anyway.

“Shit.” He said quietly.  He was really glad that he’d disabled the special security system after Rika’s death.  If he hadn’t… and she just showed up like that…

The phone against his ear clicked as it connected.

“What is it, Luciel?” V’s voice was sharp, but low-fi, and Seven hated it.  He was somewhere with bad signal again. He should have been home resting his damned eyes. “There’s someone in Rika’s apartment.” “What?!” “Yeah. Looks like she was led there by someone.  She’s also in the RFA chat. I think we’re dealing with another hacker, and if that’s the case, I can’t help but worry about..” “…Rika’s special security system.” V said coldly. “Luciel, you need to get her out of there.” “She’s locked in. I’m working on getting the lock to release so that she can leave and meet me at the cafe across the street, but in the meantime…”  He glanced back at the chat who were clamoring to know what V had to say, and if they could tell MC anything at all about the RFA.

MC: I’d really love to get to know all of you. MC: Do you think… MC has left the chatroom.

The bunker was eerily still even as all of the camera feeds went white and then flashed red connection errors. Seven dropped his phone, hearing V’s concern through the speaker even though it wasn’t against his ear anymore.  He stared at the dead cameras - feeds dropped because the cameras themselves had no doubt been destroyed.  His fingers blurred through hacking into nearby cameras only to see the devastation firsthand - the special security system, it… the bomb.

707: I have to go. 707 has left the chatroom.

He sat back in his chair and tucked his knees up against his chest.  He’d prided himself on his hacking, on his ability to save lives even when his agency jobs were wetwork. And yet, when it truly mattered…

“Why aren’t you working? We have a deadline, you damn brat.”

Vanderwood walked into the office and looked at the way Zero Seven was starting at nothing and swore, letting the broom they were holding clatter to the floor as they stepped into his personal space. They’d seen shock and grief before. They knew this near-catatonic state, but Zero Seven had seemed practically immune to it. Hell, they’d been partners for eight years at this point. Nothing shook this kid, even the things that definitely should.

“Zero Seven. Come back to me. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

Seven didn’t even acknowledge their presence.

One person was killed and eighteen others were injured in Seoul on Monday after a residential explosion caused at least a partial building collapse, rendered three nearby buildings uninhabitable, and sparked a daylong fire, officials said.

Two people are in serious condition. Five Seoul City Police were among those taken to the hospital for smoke inhalation.

A body was discovered in the apartment at the epicenter of the explosion of a 21-year-old woman suspected of causing the explosion. The body is yet to be identified.

Video from the scene showed debris strewn across the sidewalk, streets, and several cars. Windows were blown out of the building, which had extensive damage to the fourteenth floor.

“The cause of the incident is unknown, but there is no reason at this point to believe the cause is related to gas or any of our equipment.” A spokesperson from the gas company said.

Saeran snarled, slamming his fist into his desk, causing his entire setup to rumble like an earthquake. How had this happened? He’d made damn sure that bomb was disconnected before he’d sent the plant into the old apartment.  She was perfect for the project, the absolutely ideal member for their paradise, and now she was dead, and for what? Choosing to help?

He launched himself out of his chair, pacing around his room like a caged tiger. Unable to stay still, unable to even think straight after what had happened.  His entire plan was ruined, but MC…. MC was dead. He did that. 

He killed her. 

Sure, he hadn’t set the bomb off, but he’d led her there. He locked her in there, knowing the redhead would never do something so heinous as to set off the bomb while she was there. It was the perfect plan. He’d thought through everything, so why?  What had gone wrong?

From the doorway to the intelligence room, Rika’s voice rang out quietly.

“Why aren’t you working, Ray?”

Saeran whipped his head around and glared at her until the sharp look on her face and her crossed arms cowed him.

“Savior, I… The plan is ruined. The special security system triggered and took out all of the data, and our tool as well.”  The only way he was managing to think around the fact that he’d gotten a girl killed was by thinking of her as an object and not a person.  The tears leaking down his cheeks would put lie to his claims to be coping with the situation, however. “I didn’t think the traitor would do it. It must have been that Liar. He knew what was there and he couldn’t let us have it so he… he blew her up.”

Rika shook her head “He didn’t trigger it.” She said, a quiet pride suffusing her tone. “I did.” 

Saeran felt his blood run cold. “You, Savior? But why? This was your plan.”

“You got too obsessed with MC, and were planning to forsake the paradise for her. I couldn’t let her live, records be damned.”

The bitterness in her tone was like a wake-up call, and Saeran bit back on anything else he thought he might say. This paradise… no, this place… was not safe. Not safe from her, and not safe for him.