#i saw it was temporary but how long is temporary lol??????

[akkivee]

and so here we are again with another bad decision lol

[qqqqqqqqqqq0]

i did a thing

[helaintoloki]

Hey I want to request something since I saw your request was open. So can you do a fic where five and y/n ( they are already married) end up in the deli with the other fives.

Basically there are only few fives that have a y/n but she's died in their timeline. So basically it's just the other fives wanting to know more about her abd the fives telling their stories of their y/n

Y/n absolutely loves the attention she almost sequeled when she saw the other fives lol.

a/n: so this actually ended up turning into a more depressing piece than i planned LOL but the original intention is there

warnings: language, angst, mentions of death, light amount of fluff

summary: your search for answers leads you to a deli with multiple versions of your husband inside

As the danger of the impending apocalypse finally begins to sink in for Five, he realizes he needs to get you somewhere safe until he figures out a way to stop the world from ending. Thus, while his siblings continued to fight off the monstrous cleanse that was Ben and Jennifer, Five quickly grabbed hold of you and jumped you both to the only place he could think of.

You stumble over your own feet as your body adjusts to being dropped into a new setting, your hand quickly raising to shield your eyes from the bright neons that hang above you as you take in your surroundings. A subway car comes to a screeching halt in front you, and before you can protest Five is quickly ushering you inside.

“Five, where are we?” You demand, completely disoriented from having been transported away from the fight without warning and preoccupied with worry at the thought of your family fighting against the Cleanse without you both present. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you somewhere safe where you can stay until I figure out how to undo this mess,” he instructs you hastily, his lips pulling back into an exasperated frown at your resistance to enter the subway car. He doesn’t have time for you to fight him on this, his siblings need him, and he needs you away from the fight. Though you’re skilled at combat and wickedly smart, you don’t have powers, and Five can’t risk something happening to you while he’s preoccupied with saving the world.

“You’re leaving me?!” You exclaim in distress as panic immediately begins to take over your rational mind. You push against him harder to move away from the train, but despite all your efforts the boy doesn’t budge.

“It’s only temporary, I promise you,” he assures you, and when you shove him hard in the chest once more he tightly takes hold of your hands and brings them to his lips to comfort you. “I’ll take you somewhere nice, somewhere with a beautiful house and a garden full of strawberry bushes. I found it while exploring other timelines in search of clues on how to prevent the apocalypse, I know it’s safe because I went there alone. You can stay in the house until this is all over and I’ll come back for you.”

“Five, what if…” you swallow harshly as tears begin to well in your eyes, your emotions overtaking you at the thought of this being goodbye, “…what if you don’t come back?”

Five refuses to meet your gaze when the question leaves your lips. He’d never lie to you, and he knows he can’t guarantee he’ll live long enough to join you in the peaceful timeline he’d found, but he doesn’t have the heart to voice this to you. How can he look you in your tear filled eyes and tell you that this might be the last time you’ll be together as husband and wife?

Sighing, he releases your hands in exchange for cupping your face so that he may brush away the tears that slide down your warm cheeks. He hopes that one day you’ll be able to understand that every moment leading up to this has been for you, and he would happily die a hundred times over if it meant keeping you safe. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

You open your mouth to argue only to snap it shut when your gaze falls over his shoulder and lands on another figure in the subway. You blink away your tears to get a better view and are left speechless when you realize you’re staring back at the face of your husband.

But how can that be when he’s standing right in front of you?

Noticing your change in demeanor, Five follows your gaze and spots the lookalike that stands across the way from you both. His features contort into confusion as you both watch the second Five offer you a wave in greeting before disappearing down the stairs. Exchanging looks of uncertainty, Five and yourself immediately rush after the doppelgänger to figure out just what exactly is going on.

Your quick chase leads you both to the front doors of a deli, the dazzling sign above welcoming you warmly as you cautiously open the doors and set foot into Max’s despite Five’s protests to wait. If this other Five has the answers you need to return home safely together, then you’ll stop at nothing to get them.

Your originally confident demeanor quickly dwindles when the restaurant becomes deathly silent upon your entry. While you only expected to see one Five, you now find about twenty of them staring intently at you as you slowly walk towards the lookalike from the subway that waves you over to his table. Five is quick to rush after you and place a protective arm around your waist; you’re not the only one unsettled by their stares, and he feels uncharacteristically territorial in the presence of himself.

“Have a seat,” the subway lookalike offers with a gesture towards the empty space across from him, and you’re both quick to slide into the cushions at his command. “I’m glad you found me.”

“What is this place?” Your husband demands impatiently as another Five dressed in a waiter’s uniform approaches your table with three cups of coffee in hand.

“This is where all the Fives come after they decide to give up on figuring out a way to stop the apocalypse.”

As he speaks, a plate of pie is suddenly placed in front of you, and before you can even open your mouth to question it, the waiter offers you wink and assures you, “It’s on the house.”

Picking up the fork, your eyes widen in surprise as you realize what specific dessert has been given to you. Looking up at the Five across from you, you ask, “How did he know that-“

“Pumpkin pie is your favorite?” The lookalike finishes for you with an amused smile before leaning back to take a drink of his coffee. “We all know that, because we all know you.”

“Me?” You repeat quietly, brows drawn together in confusion as you look to your husband who seems rather displeased with all of the attention you’re getting. He never once thought to think of himself as potential competition over you, but it figures. Who better than himself to sweep you off your feet?

“Mind telling me why you all seem to have such a great interest in my wife?” Five demands with a wry smile, eyes blazing with annoyance and a subtle hint of jealousy.

“‘Your’ wife?” The Five behind the deli counter scoffs in amusement. “Take a number, pal.”

“What deli Five means to say is that each and every one of us has our own y/n in our own perspective timelines,” the boy across from you clarifies before gesturing to the the back of the shop. Your eyes widen in shock as you take in all the various pictures of yourself that line the wall from top to bottom, and it takes you a moment to process the fact that various versions of you have existed throughout time unbeknownst to you.

“My y/n was a trained assassin,” the Five at the table next to you describes with a dreamy smile before biting into his sandwich.

“Mine was sent alongside Hazel and Cha Cha to kill me,” another voices while pulling down the collar of his shirt to showcase the ghastly scar on his chest. “She gave me this along with three beautiful kids before I screwed it all up with this end of the world bullshit.”

“If you all care so much about her then why did you give up trying to save the world?” Your husband protests in agitation. Your search for answers is going absolutely nowhere, and you’re both left with more questions than solutions. If these doppelgängers were really meant to be him from different timelines, then why did they quit so easily? His sole purpose, his entire being, was doing everything in his power to ensure the safety of his family. Come hell or high water, Five would always be willing to get his hands dirty if it meant you and his siblings lived to see another day. So why weren’t they doing the same? “Why come here instead of preventing the apocalypse so she has the chance to live a safe and happy life even if it means you can’t be in it?”

A forlorn silence fills the deli at his question, and now none of the Fives can find it in themselves to look at you. Their features are almost shameful, their eyes full of guilt and their shoulders full of tension as no one dares to answer.

“When us Fives find a way to save the world, y/n is the one that pays the price,” the boy across from you discloses somberly before tilting his head to meet your gaze. Looking at you is like looking at a ghost, and he has to stop himself from reaching out to you as if you are his own. “The Handler killed my y/n after discovering my betrayal of the Commission.”

Another Five raises a woeful hand before announcing, “Viktor killed my y/n on accident with his bow after he discovered his powers.”

“My wife took a bullet for me because she thought my life was worth more than her own.”

“Dad had y/n disposed of in my timeline because he saw her as a distraction to me and my siblings.”

“Cha Cha tracked us down, found our home, and burned it to the ground with y/n still in it while I was away trying to save the world.”

You swallow harshly and ignore the knots in your stomach at hearing all the violent ways in which other versions of you had met their end. Your heart aches at learning what these men have been through and how much they’ve lost, but it also makes you begin to wonder if your fate will be worse than any story they can come up with. Sensing your discomfort, Five wraps a comforting arm around your figure and pulls you closer into his side.

“No matter how many times I traveled back to make it right, the result was the same,” the boy across from you relents in a desolate tone. “If I couldn’t even keep the most important woman in my life safe then how could I expect myself to save the world?”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you murmur softly, taking it upon yourself to reach across for his hand and offer your comfort. “I’m sorry for all of your losses. But as a y/n myself, I don’t think she would have wanted you to give up. She would have wanted you to keep going in spite of her death because that’s what she loved about you- your strength and your resilience when it comes to saving the people you care about.”

“God, you sound just like her,” he comments with a doleful laugh before shaking his head and pulling his hand away. “Believe me, I did everything I could. But no matter what we do, there’s no escaping the apocalypse.”

“So that’s it? There’s nothing we can do?” Five retorts in disbelief. This was all a complete waste of his time. He’s nowhere near close to preventing the Cleanse, and you’re still not somewhere safe away from the impending apocalypse.

“You can enjoy the time you have left with your y/n,” the lookalike instructs firmly, the other Fives in the deli nodding along. “You got lucky, you still have your wife, so why don’t you do us all a favor and take her somewhere nice?”

“I’m not giving up on this,” your husband argues before hastily rising from his seat in the booth. “There has to be a way to save the world, and I won’t stop until I figure it out myself.”

You watch him stalk out of the deli with purpose as he slams the door open and begins to formulate his next move. The room is silent other than the bell that jingles above the door, and you take this as your cue to leave.

“I should probably go after him,” you admit with a meek smile before scooting your way out of the booth. The Five from the subway rises to meet you, and he can’t help but to carefully cup your face in his hands and admire your features for just a moment. This might be the last time he’ll ever get to see you in person, and he’d like to commit every detail of you to memory from the reflection of the light in your eye to the smell of your perfume.

“If he ever gives you any trouble, you know where to find us,” he instructs you firmly before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and releasing you from his hold. Smiling faintly, you return the gesture by chastely pressing your lips to his cheek before rushing off after your husband.

Who would have guessed that in every timeline, in every possible version of himself to exist, Five’s love for you knows no bounds.

[venus-maneater]

a loyal dog’s reward ii. | yan! criston cole

yandere / obsessed ! au

fem! targaryen princess! reader

part i

synopsis. suffering an injury from a tournament, criston has to deal with seeing you alongside his temporary replacement. fortunately, you weren’t interested in teasing too much this time, trying to distract yourself from your sister beginning her labors, and you were happy to cheer your poor mutt up.

note; I’ve decided to make this a series with no real plot lol 😭 if being attracted to criston cole is a crime then lock me up !! this chapter took a mind of its own bc this was not the original plot and it’s twice as long as part i

WARNING(s): obsessive / possessive behavior, manipulation, violence, thoughts of violence, implied murder, blood, injury, JEALOUSY, nosebleeds, talk of bastards and having bastard children, Rhaenyra gives birth, allusions to sex but no actual smut, cole def has a breeding kink y’all

Ser Criston Cole, your ever-so-loyal shield, always said yes when you asked him to enter tourneys. He knew how much you enjoyed them, and relished in your attention as he succeeded in competition. There were only two real downsides to tournaments for him: the hours he had to spend apart from you, and the injuries. Criston had always excelled at anything physical, but he was only mortal. He was just a man who could be maimed or murdered just like any other. It served to remind him of the status gap between you: he was a man while you were born from dragons.

He kept his eyes on your form in the nobles’ box until it was his turn. This was typical behavior from him, he was nothing but devoted to you. Since you’d discovered his true feelings, you gave him more attention than before. You entertained his tendencies, teasing him sometimes but always reassuring him at the end of the day. You wanted no one but him.

“Oh, don’t fret, my Criston.” You’d tut, “I could never replace you. You’re the only guard dog for me.”

You played with his feelings occasionally, trying to get a rise out of him, but he quickly found that he didn’t mind. His reward at the end made all his anger worth it. He never blamed you either, it was never your fault that men didn’t know how to leave you alone.

He wondered now if this was one of your attempts at making him jealous.

The large man who stood obediently behind you was the one taking over Criston’s position as he competed in the tournament. Usually, another Kingsguard member would take over, but this particular Knight had something to prove. He was highborn, from some house in the Vale, with wide shoulders and a somewhat handsome face. The two men looked nothing alike; the Knight next to you was pale, hazel-eyed, and thin-haired.

He doubted it.

You didn’t like men other than Criston Cole guarding you, you’d expressed so before. They’re boring and untrustworthy, you insisted. Your words made his chest puff out with pride. He liked that he was the only one you truly trusted with your life; you knew he would protect you. You chose him to protect you.

To be honest, you didn’t even seem interested in the Knight from the Vale; you looked stiff and bored, which concerned your sworn shield. You loved tournaments, you loved when he won things in your honor. Why don’t you look excited?

Soon enough, it was his turn again. With your flowery red favor around his wrist, he got into position.

You perked up a bit when you saw that it was Criston’s turn once more. You’d been rather stiff most of the event, and you partially blamed it on your boring temporary guard. The man was flat; no personality to work with at all. It bummed you out honestly, he was from the Vale but behaved like a Northman. He was presumably around Ser Criston’s age, but had not even half of his spirit. It wouldn’t have bothered you so much if you couldn’t feel his stare burning into the back of your head. You could give him some credit; at least he’s taking his job of supervising you seriously.

But no, the primary reason for your irritation and lack of focus was your father. He had demanded you to attend this tourney to celebrate Rhaenyra’s labors, not allowing you to be by her side. You and your sister were close, very close, and quite similar as well. To not be by her side when she was in pain had you tense. You didn’t want to be here, not even to see Criston compete.

Criston Cole was facing a member of House Bolton, a rather fierce young man who didn’t scare easy. Most Northerners were like that, but Criston should know best as he just beat another one last round. The tournament today was celebrating Princess Rhaenyra beginning her labors, so competitors have traveled from far and wide. The event had been planned for a month, so it was good news that the Princess was finally giving birth.

“Jessil,” you called to your guard with a smirk, “You should watch closely this round, my shield is competing.”

The man nodded curtly without a word, causing you to roll your eyes. His under-reactions irked you, but you were starting to blame Criston Cole for that fact. He always reacted wonderfully to anything you did, perhaps you were too used to it.

Speaking of your shield, you could see his anger growing the longer you were with another man. It was the only thing keeping you here at this point; waiting to see if he’ll get violent. Criston was the most amusing man you’d ever met, you just knew something was going to happen. There were only two more rounds until the event ended, and he’d been stiff ever since Ser Jessil bent down closer in order to hear your comments about two hours ago.

The two knights settled into their positions across the courtyard from each other, on opposite sides of the tilt. Then, a horn sounded, triggering their horses into a sprint. With their lances aimed, the men collided, wooden splinters flying but neither of them falling. New lances were readily tossed to them and the process repeated. Criston spared you a glance, noticing that Jessil had gotten a few inches closer.

Again, they charged forward. Only this time, when they clashed, Criston was thrown from his horse at the force of the hit. The Bolton fared a bit better, remaining on his horse, but he was hit in the face by Criston’s lance, causing the front of his helmet to cave in just enough to cut him.

What you saw made you shoot to your feet, your hands gripping the railing in concern. Never in your years of knowing Criston Cole had you ever seen him knocked from his horse in a tournament. He was easily one of the best fighters you knew of, it seemed impossible that this could happen. Had you pushed too far with your teasing? You’d never tried anything during a tournament before, perhaps Ser Jessil’s presence threw him off.

The round didn’t end there. Criston was quick to stand despite his obvious injuries, and his morningstar was swiftly given to him. His helmet had flew from his head when he fell, so his bleeding mouth was for all to see. He was holding his right arm close to his body, making it appear broken or incapable of proper use. Although he was right-handed, he gripped his weapon in his left hand and prepared for a fight. The Bolton Knight was also without a helmet at this point, ditching the damaged armor when he jumped to the ground to grab his sword. His nose was bleeding and looked to be broken from the hit.

“Is his arm broken?” You asked aloud, leaning over the railing a bit in an attempt to see better, “he favors his right.”

Jessil ignored your words, but inched closer so you wouldn’t go over the railing, “Princess, you could fall.”

Criston let the other Knight come to him, not willing to waste any energy. He used his time to look your way, not liking the way your guard was holding your shoulder.

The fight began, but didn’t last long. The Bolton may have made a skilled jouster, but not a fighter. He was no match for the angry Kingsguard, even when he had every advantage. Handicapped from his injuries, Criston swung his Morningstar with his left hand, swiftly hitting his opponent in the head while avoiding any oncoming attacks from the sword. The impact knocked the younger Knight out, but visibly broke his brow bone. Due to the force from the spikes, his face was bleeding badly and the area around his eye was caved in, perfectly mirroring the damage to his helmet.

Half the crowd was silent in shock (including yourself), but the other half was cheering loudly at the violence. You were desensitized to such things at this point in your life, but that didn’t mean you welcomed them. You didn’t like that Criston came so close to losing, or that you have to watch some poor Bolton boy bleed out on the ground for no reason, your shield was too injured to continue to the next round anyways. And due to your being a princess, it would be inappropriate to leave early to check on the Kingsguard member. Because your father wouldn’t allow to be with your sister, you’d made Criston your fixation of the day.

The two of you made eye contact as a few servants rushed over to him, helping him limp off to see a maester. It was soon announced that although neither competitor was continuing to the next round, Criston Cole was technically the winner.

“Well that was certainly a show” You cleared your throat, shaking Ser Jessil’s hand off your shoulder and finally taking your seat once again, “I knew something was going to happen.”

“So you did, Princess.” The Knight nodded curtly, recalling your words earlier, telling him to watch closely.

With Criston gone, your mind shifted back to a pregnant Rhaenyra, who was currently giving birth without your comfort. You stiffen up, nails digging into the railing before exhaling deeply and taking your seat. The two of you return to your proper positions and continued to observe the event for the next few hours, clapping dutifully when an insignificant Lannister won.

x

You made it back to the Red Keep in record time, it seemed. Even Jessil had trouble keeping up with you on your horse as you rushed home. You’d refused the carriage ride, eager to see your sister.

You were sprinting up the nearly infinite steps to her chambers, Jessil following close and maids jumping out of the way. A couple of people tried to stop your entrance, but you only shoved them aside and pushed your way towards your sister.

“Rhaenyra!” You gasped softly, a grin finding its way to your face when you saw her cradling her new baby in bed. After the death of your mother, childbirth was a sensitive subject for you and your sister, you hated being apart during this time. She dismissed the women in the room, leaving just the two of you and her first child.

“I’ve decided on Jacaerys.” She smiled at you as you crawled into the bed beside her.

She’d discussed baby name ideas with you before, with Laenor as well, who suggested Joffrey. Rhaenyra was adamantly against it, and you remembered the distaste you felt hearing it, knowing the implications that would come along if they decided on that name. You’d always liked Joffrey actually, unhappy with his death, but almost all of court heard the rumors of he and Laenor. You’d suggested Jacaerys, a Velaryon sounding name. Rhaenyra didn’t seem overly interested, so you didn’t expect her to choose it.

“Oh, Jacaerys.” You cooed, stroking his little head, full of dark locks. That wasn’t good, not really. Hopefully he took after Rhaenyra in his other features, or else questions of his parentage could arise. Rhaenys was half Baratheon, so that could be used as an excuse. But then the baby boy opened his eyes, revealing big brown orbs that mirrored Harwin Strong’s. You liked Harwin quite a bit, not minding. But the court would mind. You and Rhaenyra would just have to protect him.

“Have you slept yet?” You asked your sister, who hasn’t stopped grinning since you first saw her.

“Not yet, dear sister, I cannot stop looking at his sweet face.”

“Has… his father seen him yet?” You both knew who you meant.

“No. But he will soon enough, when I’m well enough to leave the room.” She gave you a knowing smile, which you returned.

Upon leaving Rhaenyra to rest, you were able to successfully escape Ser Jessil’s supervision with the help of Ser Harwin Strong, and went straight to Criston Cole’s chambers. You found out through your favorite handmaiden that he’d been released from the infirmary, and you took the first opportunity that presented itself to you. You didn’t knock before slipping into his room, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

Stepping in, your eyes were drawn to his place on the bed immediately. He was lying down above the blankets, with his arm wrapped and splinted in a sling resting above his bare midsection. His ribs were bruised, but it was apparently nothing bad enough that would need wrapping. Both legs were extended out, with his left pant leg pulled up to the knee to reveal his bruised ankle. He didn’t notice you enter, his eyes were shut and he was likely half-asleep. His face was fine, handsome as always, besides a cut on his nose-bridge that was beginning to darken into a bruise.

“Look at you, my poor sweet thing.” You cooed quietly at him suddenly, waking him from his relaxed state. His eyes shot open, head snapping over to the door.

“My princess.” He gasped. His chambers were much smaller and less impressive than yours, he didn’t want you in such an environment.

“Are you well?” You asked, closing the door as quietly as possible, “The maester says you’ve broken bones.”

“I’m well, I swear it to you. It’s a small break in the arm, everything should heal rather quickly.” He tried to reassure you as you approached, struggling his way into a sitting position, his back against the head board.

You hummed at his clumsy movements, stopping to stand at his bedside. Cute. Criston wasn’t an inherently violent man, at least not with you, so it was easy to forget how strong and dangerous he truly was. It was unnerving to see him injured; weak.

“How quickly would you say?” You asked.

“The maester says a month.” He answered quietly, not willing to admit the extent of his injuries. His primary goal was to get back to you.

You knew the Maester had actually said two months.

“Hm. Who will protect me for a whole month in your absence?” You held back a smirk.

You watched as Criston’s body language immediately changed. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, his leg twitched in frustration.

“I am still fully capable.”

Has he always been this attractive or does jealousy just look good on him?

“My father thinks you should take time to heal.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “I don’t care what he thinks, you saw what I did to my opponent despite my injuries.”

“You ‘don’t care what he thinks’? He is King.” You said in a mock-scolding tone, lifting your knee to rest in against the bed, close to his lap.

“Yours is the only word to mean anything to me. I listen to no King.” Still seated, he leans forward to get closer.

“Though you listen to me? Only me?” You ask with a smile, batting your lashes at him and leaning in. He doesn’t move to kiss you first, he rarely does. He lets you do as you please, feeling the puffs of air from your giggle on his lips.

“Yes. Only you.” He whispers, his eyes begging you to just kiss him already. But nothing is ever that simple with you, and he knows it well.

You grin at him, leaning in until your lips are just grazing his own, before laughing and pulling away entirely. His face followed yours until you were out of reach, leaving him to huff and fall back against the head board once again. He let out a quiet groan, closing his eyes and tossing his head back so he could catch his breath.

“You’re so easy, Ser Criston.” You snickered. His lips quirked up at your joyous tone, but he resisted the urge to open his eyes. After a few moments of stumbling around the room in amusement, you bit your lip to keep quiet.

Criston went stiff when you fell silent, excited fingers beginning to twitch as the urge to touch you increased. But he was a seasoned warrior at this point in life, and could hear every movement you made. He heard you tiptoe back over to the bed before pausing. The mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed and landed in his lap, straddling his thighs and avoiding his bruised ribs. It was only when you were on top of him that his eyelids fluttered open to watch you. You gave him a satisfied look. He was happy to let you believe you caught him off-guard.

“Criston?”

“Yes, my Heart?”

“There’s something I have to tell you…” You placed your hands gently on his chest and leaned in, your mouth next to his ear, “and you will not like it.”

“You think me incapable of handling such news?” He asked, a bit breathless.

You smiled, “Of course not. You’re my protector, my strong and most loyal servant. You can handle anything I give you, yes?”

He nodded, unable to speak properly with your lips on his ear.

“My father says that Ser Jessil will be your stand-in as my protector.”

Criston’s good hand immediately moved to your waist, gripping it tightly, “You don’t need anyone else to protect you. Only me.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” You kissed his jaw gently, “but you should heal and rest.”

“I will kill him. Do not doubt me.”

“He would just be replaced.”

“I don’t care, I should kill the next as well.”

“You go against my word?” You pulled back, sitting up fully. He hesitated in his response, so you continued, “Ser Jessil will be your temporary replacement, my King father has said this and I have agreed.”

It was a lie, technically; you didn’t exactly agree to anything. But you weren’t about to let Criston believe he had the power here. He’d started to get a bit too bold.

Your faces were close together now, the two of you holding heavy eye contact. Criston said nothing, though his body language revealed his true feelings easily. He didn’t like that you were taking your father’s side over his own.

“I love you.” He blurted out, brows furrowed in emotion.

Your hands moved up to hold his face, “I know that. I just want you well. You must rest and heal so you can be at your best. Don’t you understand?”

Criston nodded slowly, a satisfied shiver running through him at the thought of you caring so much. His health is truly that important to you?

“Good.” You say with a grin, pecking the corner of his lips and reaching up to pat his messy hair down. His long locks grew wild already, but the style worsened from hours of wearing a helmet.

Giving into you, per usual, the Knight sighed and wrapped his good arm fully around your waist, pulling you close so he could tuck his face into your neck. You cooed at him, returning his embrace and giggling in between your praises.

“I know that this upsets you quite a bit,” You began, gasping in surprise when you felt a warm tongue trail over your throat, “but I don’t mind making you feel better.”

“Feel better you say?” He questioned absentmindedly, more focused on the taste of your skin.

You hummed in confirmation, “I can take care of you in places you may need help with. You know….. here?”

Eyes closed, you placed a delicate touch to the bulge in his pants, smiling when you felt him stiffen beneath you.

Criston Cole was always half-hard around you, your presence alone able to rile him up. He often found himself having to control his thoughts when around other people, not wanting them to notice his… state. As much as he wanted to touch you all over— taste you and love you and worship you— he held a higher respect for you than himself. You were not just a Lady, you were a Princess. He would not dishonor you in such a way, at least not until the two of you were married.

“Princess—” he grunted, mouth dropping open in pleasure briefly before pursing his lips. He pulled his upper body away from you slightly, giving you a bit more space to do what you wanted.

“Oh, it’s fine, Ser Criston. I want to.” You reassured, shrugging because you knew he would end up letting you anyways, “You just look so good bruised up like this, all jealous over some loser, nobody Knight.”

You whispered the last sentence harshly, and Criston loved it. He loved when you degraded other men in comparison to him. He was who you wanted, not that loser, nobody Knight. It didn’t matter that he was low-born or sick in the head, you wanted him anyway.

“You prefer me?” He asked looking up at you, “to him? Tell me...”

“I prefer you to him, Ser Criston Cole. I prefer you to all other men.”

Pulling him by his hair, your lips captured his. Whimpering into your mouth, he now does nothing to stop you from reaching your goal. You smile into the kiss at his surrender.

“… but perhaps you’re right.” You pull away from his lips, but stay close enough to tease, “it would be so dishonorable and you’re injured as well. Hm.”

Criston, his mind in shambles, doesn’t say a word, just sucks his teeth and releases a shaky breath. He doesn’t like to argue with you, he won’t. He’s overwhelmed, you’re so close.

“Can’t think.” He muttered so quietly you almost missed it.

A breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it, “No? And why is that, Ser? Do I possess you so?”

“Possess? Princess, you are torturing me with your affections. I cannot think of anything else, I cannot focus, I cannot stop shaking.” His voice cracked at the last word and he wasn’t lying, his body trembled.

“Do I dominate your dreams as well?”

“Yes.”

You hum, curious. You knew of his fantasies; his plans to run away, marry, and have many children with you. But you never question the details, allowing them to stay fuzzy so he wouldn’t get too ahead with his scheming. Dreams, however, you could create your own world. “Won’t you share them with me?”

“We ah-” he pauses to take a deep breath, likely attempting to control himself, “You call me by name a lot.”

You tilt your head, a bit confused.

“Not Ser, not dog, not thing— just Criston. The sound of my name from your lips is like music to me. It makes me— I never want you to say another’s name ever again. And uh- a daughter. We have a daughter. She looks like you- so much.”

You begin to shift at his words. A daughter? No Westerosi man wishes for a daughter, at least not before a son, “Daughter you say? Why?”

“She will be you, reborn, carrying my blood. I dream of a baby girl that smiles like you. I will call her my little princess as you are my Princess. A child that is ours.”

“A daughter.” You repeated once more. It was… nice to hear a man express desire for a daughter rather than a son. You and Rhaenyra had suffered due to that mindset, spending most of your lives watching your father desperately try for a son, even at the cost of your mother’s life. He no longer felt that way, but it was too late, the damage had been done. He now had Aegon and Aemond, who he didn’t even pay much attention to. Your mother’s life felt wasted.

“Princess—?”

“A sweet thing it is.” You cut him off, “your dreams are endearing. But I must go now, Jessil has no doubt noticed my absence.”

Criston tensed, “Ab—sence” He croaked, jealousy building.

“Mmhm.” I nodded, “I’ve avoided him thus far, impressively. He may report this to my father if I’m gone any longer.”

Just a few minutes more, his mind screams. But he’s good for you, so he only nods. His jaw is clenched and there’s a noticeable twitch in his expression. His fingertips dig into your sides.

“I don’t want to part with you for so long.”

“Perhaps I’ll visit if you behave.”

x

“He’s clearly a bastard.” Criston spoke quietly, but plainly.

You’d snuck him into your chambers after a long day of cooing over Rhaenyra’s baby boy, Jacaerys. It’d been a couple weeks since his birth and she finally brought him to court for all to see.

“It is treason to suggest such a thing, Ser Cole.” You bitterly defended your sister as you brushed your fair, before rolling your eyes, “And even if it were true, what does it matter who the boy’s father is? He is Rhaenyra’s true son and her heir. The boy is a Targaryen.”

At the risk of upsetting you further, he held his tongue. Being rather low born, Criston grew up having to prove himself through his ability rather than his status. But when he was young, at the end of the day, he was still a rank above bastard children. He had that, at least. He knew that it wasn’t exactly fair, you can’t control who your parents are, but it was a mindset he was raised with and couldn’t shake so easily.

“What if my father marries me off to some Lord I do not love? Are you saying you wouldn’t fuck little bastard babies into me? Babes that look just like you?” You ask him, standing up from your vanity to approach his spot on your bed, feigning innocence.

Face twitching in annoyance, Criston grabbed your wrist and roughly pulled you to his level. With your faces were inches apart, he reached up and gripped your chin. The action made you bite your lip to hide a grin.

“I will be fucking little trueborn babies into you. I’ll make you my wife before giving you children.” He took slight offense to your words. How could you suggest that? You should know he would not let you be married off.

“Oh, of course, My White Knight. You plan to steal me away.”

“Hardly stealing.” He muttered, lovesick eyes staring into yours.

You don’t voice your disagreements, you only laugh. You did not belong to Criston Cole, you belong only to yourself. His words make you think that this game had gone a little too far; he’s getting too confident in his possessiveness. His hesitancy was one of his initial charms for you, and it’s leaving him. Perhaps it’s best to stop entertaining his ideas of a future with you, no matter how cute and pleasant you believe them to be.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t like it, even just a little?” You tilted your head, his hand still holding your chin softly.

“No.” That’s a lie, maybe just a small amount. Everyone knowing you belong to him, having his kids, despite your status. But the negatives massively outweigh the positives. Not only would it put so much dishonor on you, but Criston isn’t good at controlling his jealousy. He wouldn’t be able to handle you being married to another or his children not having his name.

You smiled knowingly, teasing, “I don’t believe you.”

He released his grasp on your chin, letting you fall closer into him, “I could never be fond of an idea where you are not mine.”

“Well I would be, only secretly.” You pointed out.

“I want you to be mine openly, in every way. By name.”

You knew that wasn’t possible, not even across the sea. But you didn’t want to burst the bubble he’d been constructing for the last year. You let it go. A short silence takes over, not an uncomfortable one, but not the kind you particularly liked. The two of you had extremely different thinking processes, and it was something only amplified when you discussed your ideas for the future. Luckily, your partner was delusional enough that he didn’t notice your discontent with running away.

“Criston?” You ask, letting yourself fall to lie flat beside him. He lets go of your wrist and his eyes follow your moments, as usual. He lies back on the bed as well.

“Yes, my Princess?”

“Why do you desire me the way you do?”

He looked slightly surprised at the question, like he’d never expected you would ask. The truth is, he hadn’t. It wasn’t like you to care why. You were quick to accept things for what they were.

“You’re special to me.” He eventually whispered, “I was made to love you.”

“Made?”

“The gods constructed me only for the purpose of worshipping you. You have bewitched me with no effort. I do not know whether to kiss the ground you walk on or fall to my knees and beg for your continued attention.”

You stare into his big, dark eyes silently. He’s loyal, like a dog. And he’s hopeless like one too. “You’re not exactly a poet, but I suppose that will do.”

He grins, and you can practically feel his heart racing, “Not a poet, no.”

You tear your eyes away from him to glare at the ceiling. “Do not call my nephew a bastard again.”

He tensed at your words, entirely disliking that he’d upset you, and nodded immediately. He was embarrassed, “Yes, my love, I’m sorry.”

You sighed and looked back at him, sitting up once more. “I think you’ll find him charming. Rhaenyra says he reminds her of me already.”

“Well I’m sure to be charmed in that case, aren’t I?”

“Oh, yes, since you’re more than quite charmed by me.”

“Charmed,” He smiled, pupils expanding as he began to fantasize, “I hope to be charmed by our own children one day.”

“Our own?” You entertained, “How many? Including this daughter of ours of course.”

“Five perhaps. More if you’d like.” He took a piece of your hair between his fingers to play with.

“Is that what our lives would look like if you had it your way?”

“If I had it my way,” His eyes shifted back to your own, darkening, “by now you’d be chasing around our first two children as your stomach swelled with our third. You’d be called Lady Cole.”

“Ah, yes. Lady Cole with her many Cole babes.”

Criston had to take a deep breath at that, practically vibrating at the mere thought of you carrying his children and living as his wife.

You giggle at his visible reaction, leaning down to claim his lips. He sighed into the kiss, hesitant hands reaching for your hair. He tugs, trying to urge you closer, onto his lap, “My princess, please.”

“He begs, ‘Please please please’. You are the wantingest man I’ve ever met.” You grin into the kiss, allowing him to take you into his lap.

“I will never have shame in begging you. My life belongs to you, I am yours.” His words are beginning to slur slightly, “It’s only natural for me to be greedy when you are the one who claims my heart.”

“Always trying to impress me with your words,” You playfully roll your eyes, “you’re nearly healed, you know. Ready to return to my side?” It was a lie, he had good a bit left of healing to do.

“I never should have left.” He squirmed, trying not to show his anger. He never left, not willingly. He was removed.

“Of course, of course.” You tugged on the dark hair at the back of his neck, “The man who’s been with me is utterly serious. Neither I nor Rhaenyra like him.”

Criston listened to your complain about your temporary shield with a sense of pride and giddiness. He was relieved you disliked his replacement. But the mention of your sister disliking him as well did nothing for him, as the princess Rhaenyra didn’t like most men surrounding you, Criston himself included. She never vocalized it much, but he noticed when she tensed and sneered when he got too close to you. He wondered if she knew about your relationship.

“I’m more your taste, Princess?”

A grin found its way to your face and you nodded, “That’s right, I can do whatever I please to you and you only bask in my attention.”

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, argue with that. While he had his own boundaries of sorts, they were completely disregarded in your presence and he didn’t even mind it.

To prove your point, you began to kiss his jaw, sweet and gentle kisses. Criston hummed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back only slightly. You nipped at the delicate skin, comfortable with leaving just a few marks because he was still out of action; not many people would be seeing him anyways.

“G-gods-” he choked out.

“The gods cannot save you, I’m afraid.” You giggle.

“I beg them not to.”

You giggle at his dazed voice and expression, blowing cool air on his neck and enjoying his shiver. His hands keep twitching. Just to tease, you kept your face tucked into him, kitten licking at the skin until you felt something wet hit your cheek. Pulling away slightly, you quickly identified the source of the warm liquid; blood was dripping from Criston’s nose, falling over his lips down to his chin.

“S-sorry, your grace. I’m overwhelmed is all.” He muttered, hand immediately going up to face to stop the dripping. But you only pull his hand away with a smirk.

“You know,” you begin, thumbing some of the blood and smearing it over his lips, “in the way of Old Valyria, we share blood when we marry.”

“Please, please,” he croaks, big dark eyes boring desperately into your own. They’re shiny and lack any coherent thoughts, “Don’t say such things to me now— can’t control myself.”

“We use dragon glass to cut one another’s lip,” you take your bloodied thumb and swipe red onto your bottom lip, “then we kiss to show we are of the same blood now.”

His leg begins to bounce and he has to look away from your face. His nose continues to drip blood, but neither of you move to stop it this time.

“You like that idea~ i can tell because you’re shaking.” You giggle into his ear.

“M’not shaking-” he replies, but even his voice trembles.

“Well you’re bleeding, is that not a sign?” You tilt your head, “perhaps you’re unwell, should I stop?”

Before he can beg you not to stop, his sharp ears catch the sound of clicking armor in the hall. He tenses, almost forgetting he was in the Princess’ chambers; he doesn’t know how when yours was easily three-times the size of his own. There was no need to panic and hide, people were not permitted to just walk in.

Three hard knocks sounded throughout the room, causing Criston to freeze. Your expression didn’t change, as you’d heard the footsteps.

“Who is it? Do not enter please.” You answered, your eyes not leaving your knight’s. As nervous as he was, Criston maintained eye contact and didn’t move a muscle. With a small grin, your hand traveled back up to his chin, which was now smeared with blood. As your fingers traced his features, you leaned in close to his ear to place a few gentle kisses there.

“Princess, it’s Ser Jessil. Your sister, the Princess Rhaenyra, has sent for you. She is… perhaps you should open the door to let me explain. It concerns your safety.”

Your reactions vary; Criston’s posture is still stiff and he’s growing annoyed at the knight’s presence. It’s almost offensive how this pathetic creature is trying to protect you when that’s his job. But you’re worried, though you won’t show it. Rhaenyra? Is something wrong? But something about it didn’t make sense; if your safety was threatened, then why did Rhaenyra know first and why did Jessil bother knocking at all?

“I’d prefer you explain from where you are.”

You could hear his sigh through the door, an impressive feat, “She is suspicious that a knight of the king is sneaking into your chambers.”

Probably because it was true, you thought, glancing at a stiff and unhappy Criston.

“Let me ready myself and I will speak with her at once.” As you began to shift off of your shield, but he only pouted and desperately hung on. He had the mind to keep quiet, but his heart wouldn’t allow you to leave him.

“… Yes, Princess.”

You turned to him sternly, “Let go, Criston. Don’t be foolish, just hide for now and be gone when we leave.” You quietly scolded and his grip loosened.

He clenches his jaw, the most common hint to his annoyance, and said nothing. He allowed you to pull him up by the hand and drag him over to your wardrobe, shutting him in with a last apologetic kiss.

“Be good.” You uttered, and his gaze softened for a moment before the door shut in his face.

He could hear you shuffle around, dressing quickly to see your sister. He sucked his teeth angry. Did he deserve mistreatment? To an extent, yes, he could admit that. But this wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t you just— stay? Tell him to kill that bothersome knight and be done with him entirely. His fists clenched. He’d kill him— and soon. Right now even. Then he’d take you away and give you a nice little home with sweet little silver-haired babies. Criston was growing sick of waiting, it was eating him up inside. You affected him so severely, it was showing itself physically. He brought a hand up to the crimson liquid that had finally stopped leaking from his nose.

You were gone now— he knew this because he could feel when you were near. But someone was in your chambers, someone closer to his size. He could hear the metal clanking of heavy armor. The person was looking for something, an intruder most likely. But Criston was not the intruder here. The idea of someone who wasn’t him being in your space made him burn with anger. That was fine, he decided, he’d handle it. With balled up fists, he stepped out from the wardrobe.

x

“Has Ser Jessil been good to you, little sister?”

You shrugged at Rhaenyra, your chin resting in your hand as you leaned on the table. It wasn’t polite, but you were comfortable in her presence, “He’s fine, I suppose.”

“But you prefer that dog of yours.” Your sister teased. You could tell she didn’t like that— didn’t like Criston. You understood.

“He’s good, listens well.”

“Not for long— I can see it well. He’s a sick thing, sister.”

“I can handle him, he does as I ask.”

“He’s greedy, an oath breaker.”

You hummed in agreement, “He has pretty eyes.”

Rhaenyra scoffed with a grin at your reply, “He will try to steal you away. Not just that, but he’s also obvious. Painfully so. If I know, someone else does too. He needs to be put out. Be rid of him.”

“I… understand that he’s got troublesome feelings. But he’s become something of a pet to me now.” You pouted and your sister sighed, not fond of upsetting you.

“When I ascend the throne, he will be gone. I worry he’ll be your downfall.” She wasn’t being dramatic, she’d disliked the man for years and saw every bit of concerning behavior he displayed. She saw clearly his desperation to leave with you. When it comes time for you to marry, he’ll go mad.

You knew whatever you had with Criston wasn’t permanent, but to hear your elder sister give away her intentions of getting rid of him really struck you. “He’s brainless, Rhaenyra. Just a dog, truly. He can hardly read. He’s only a threat physically, and he would never hurt me.”

Rhaenyra sighed, wrinkling her nose in distaste for the man. She used to be like you, still was sometimes, but she would protect you from her mistakes. She would not allow any whispers at court of you being a whore and your children being bastards, not like her. Since the birth of Jacaerys, she’d grown just a bit more serious, and much more protective.

“You needn’t be literate to kill a man.” She replied after a brief silence.

You held back a huff. The truth was that Criston could read fine these days, though not nearly at the level you could. You’d only said that to give the illusion of harmlessness. Unfortunately, Rhaenyra would never buy it; she had seen the knights he’d bloodied during tournaments.

“I’ll be harder on him then, perhaps add a bit of distance. But, sister, he is important. As a member of the Kingsguard, his support and loyalty will aid your claim. One more soldier on our side— a good one.”

“I will not sacrifice you for my cause.”

“I’ve told you, he will not harm me—”

“It’s more complex than that—!”

It felt like you were 13 and 14 again, bickering over something that was caused by your sisters protectiveness.

No, you will not be coming with me. You will sleep in your bed and I will wake you myself come morning!

If that stable boy looks at you that way again, I will have father or Uncle Daemon take his eyes— probably Daemon.

No, sister. You are mad if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a wild dragon—!

You sometimes think that Criston and Rhaenyra hate one another because they are a bit similar.

“Nyra,” you groaned, head in hands, “I will fix it, you’re right, he has become a bit… extreme lately. But you must admit he’d be beneficial to our cause.”

Although Rhaenyra was legally the heir to the throne, there were already whispers of putting Alicent’s son, Aegon, on the throne in her place. Criston wasn’t very powerful politically, but he was a brilliant fighter and his words as a Kingsguard held just a bit of sway.

She furrowed her brows, “You’re too fond of him.”

You shrugged, standing up, “Perhaps. But I’m no fool; you come first. I will never flee with him.”

“And when he realizes that?”

You didn’t have an answer. You passed Harwin Strong on your way out, and bit your tongue to stop myself from calling out the hypocrisy.

What was the difference between her and Harwin vs you and Criston?

x

Well for starters, Harwin didn’t murder any man who entered Rhaenyra’s vicinity. Criston on the other hand…

By the time you returned to your chambers, the entire stone floor was red, the liquid seeping into your intricate carpet you’d had since you were a child. There was no body, suggesting that Criston had already gotten rid of it or the victim managed to escape. (But that was unlikely, Criston was a beast in a fight, and his temper was unmatched.)

“Princess.” Criston croaked from behind you, in the open doorway. He’d just arrived, and it took only one glance at him to know what he’d done. Blood covered his hands, arms, and chest. It was splattered from his face all the way down to his knees. He was in his civilian clothes still, rather than any armor due to being put on leave. His eyes were shiny, some sense of desperation in them, and he was fiddling with his red hands. Nervous. Why were you back so early? The sling for his arm was gone, though he surely still needed it.

“Is—” You cleared your throat. “Is he alive?”

But judging by the brain matter on the ground, you knew the answer was—

“No.” Direct and honest. He took a few steps forward, shutting the door behind him. You weren’t scared of him necessarily— you knew well enough at this point that he’d never hurt you. But he didn’t look quite human at the moment, so you took a step back.

Your simple shuffle backwards was enough to send him into a panic.

He dropped to his knees, blood soaking into his breeches as he inched closer, “My love— he was threat! He would’ve found me in here—” He babbled on about protecting you, begging for you not to be afraid. You let him talk, focused on the blood.

“Clean this up.” You finally muttered, patting him quickly on the head to avoid soaking yourself with the crimson liquid.

As much as a part of you wanted to coo at him ‘good dog’, you couldn’t. This was messy— emotional and obvious. Risky. He was a bad dog, a stupid one even. He wasn’t like Harwin— manageable. He was something else entirely. You liked him how he was, violently loyal and protective, but you couldn’t have it.

He quickly agreed to clean it and began to calm down, which led him to notice your own unease. He flinched when he saw how much blood seeped into your shoes and skirt, pulling you into his arms and placing you on your favorite stool.

He was cooing at you, “Sweet Princess, don’t worry about this, yes? I’ll rid you completely of this man, I swear it. I allowed his blood to soil your clothes, I’m sorry.”

Criston kissed at your collar bones down your arms to your palms.

“Criston,” his eyes shot up to meet yours. Big brown heart eyes. “No more of this, not in this castle.”

His hands tightened slightly around your wrists, “But you like it.” He muttered.

“It isn’t about that—!” You held your tongue, deciding to take a smarter approach, “My sweet Criston, the people in the Keep will soon notice a pattern, I cannot let that happen. My sister needs nothing in her way of that crown.”

He nearly scoffed, “Is it always about your sister and her crown? I have protected you again! From-from these perverts who wish to—”

“You’re the pervert-!”

“You love me! You love it! How you affect me— how you can physically see every thought that goes through my head about you! You love how perverted I am for only you! I see you— I love every part of you, even the part that gets off on a Kingsguard soiling his cloak for you!” Criston was shaking, “I am sick, and you cannot get enough! Just as I will never tire of you— I need you!”

There was silence, besides his heavy breathing. You didn’t expect such self-awareness, and you didn’t like it. You liked him better dumb, but it appeared he never was fully clueless. His brown eyes were wide and a shade darker than usual.

“Sit.” You commanded and he did, “Just clean this up.”

x

[taglist] @3abydolll @pearlstiare @caramelcandescence @eilishchaos @watercolorskyy

The Rhaenyra/Criston beef is gonna go crazy in the prequel

im hoping you guys noticed, but this chapter was meant to emphasize the lack of control the reader truly has on criston. like yeah, he worships you and is willing to do almost anything you say, but his urges control him more than anything else ever will. this is going to be a common theme in the future. i also wanted this chapter to show more daily life and readers relationship with rhaenyra compared to part i.

[keerysfreckles]

hey hey hey, yo

It's 2am and I was thinking of a simple Luke story (in whatever format you want) with an Aphrodite! reader who simply leaves him mesmerized every time, and at one point Percy simply exposes him and it all ends in a confession and reader just being completely beautiful lol lol lol (no description needed, we are all beautiful!!!)

teenage dream — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader (no specific pronouns used)

warnings: none! just a cute little luke drabble 🤗

a/n: im a sucker for aphrodite!reader x luke omg SMTH ABT IT IS JUST SO UGH-

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

if you said luke staring at you almost all day every day was shocking to you, you'd be lying. you didn't tell luke you noticed, but oh, you noticed.

in archery today, while you were helping a few of the newer campers how to aim, you sensed someone staring at you with nothing but heart eyes. that someone was luke.

while you were walking with one of your sisters after lunch, you made eye contact with luke as you passed his cabin. the boy blushed, and turned in embarrassment. you thought it was adorable.

and on the way to the infirmary with another camper, who hurt his arm during sword fighting lessons, you saw luke staring at you from afar. you sent him a simple wave and a smile. you were surprised he waved back, considering most of the time he would've just looked away with flushed cheeks.

those were only three of the hundreds of times the hermes boy has stared at you with adoration. you couldn't help yourself when you stared at him the same way. (what he doesn't know won't kill him).

you were on your way to dinner with your cabin. mr d. barrelled into your cabin telling you all to get to the mess hall. he mentioned something about chiron waiting on your cabin so he can get along with tonight's announcements.

just as you were about to sit down, you felt a tug on the back of your camp half-blood shirt.

"oh, what's up percy?"

you'd seen the boy around camp plenty of times. you two became close once you helped him get seaweed out of his hair one time. (don't ask, he had a long day).

"hey, so you see that guy over there?" he was quick to the point, as he turned and gestured to luke sitting at the hermes table.

you nod, "i'd say im familiar with him, why?"

"now luke doesn't really want me to tell you this, so you didn't hear it from me." you nod, making him continue. "he has the biggest crush on you, and i mean biggest. even when i was in his cabin he wouldn't shut up about you."

your eyebrows raise in amusement, "oh! is that so?" you look over towards luke, who seems too busy to be talking with his temporary siblings to see your stare.

percy nods, "i'm telling you, he's obsessed."

you giggle, and look at luke again. he's now looking at you and percy. you almost sense that he's nervous.

you thank percy for the not so newfound information, before walking towards luke's table. his eyes never leave you. "hi luke," you smile, placing your hand on his shoulder. "so uh, a little birdie may have told me you have a crush on me."

a few ooh's left the lips of luke's siblings. both of you chose to ignore it.

he shakes his head, "i don't know what you're talking about."

you lean down to his ear, so only he can hear, "meet me outside my cabin after dinner," you offer sweetly. you simply kiss his right temple before going back to your own table, leaving a very stunned and blushing luke behind.

[tkaulitzlvr]

SORRY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you were drinking your sorrows away after yours and tom’s breakup, receiving unwanted attention at the random club you are at, until the last person you expected to see comes to your rescue.

content: angst + smut

a/n: again pulled this out of my ass this is becoming a very common theme LOL. this isn’t what i wanted to post but it’s been a week since i last put anything out so i threw it together, def not my best work and i feel like all i write is angst to smut whoops, hope u all enjoy anyway and thank u for 500 followers!!

the alcohol soon takes over as i down another shot, the liquid burns my throat and only fuels my recklessness. not that i mind, in fact, it is exactly what i need. tonight i don’t want to feel - tired of the everlasting burden of my emotions. i want to be numb, nothing but an empty vessel, letting the alcohol lead the way opposed to my diseased mind. music blares through the speakers, probably loud enough to cause some serious damage to my eardrums. but i don’t know how long i have been at this club for, though it is long enough for my hearing to become accustomed to the thick bass pulsating through my body, no longer wincing whenever i would near the speakers.

intoxicated bodies encircle me whilst i make my way to the centre, some just like me - alone and drinking away their self pity. others dance with their friends, slurred giggles leaving their lips as they sloppily sway their hips to the music, covered in nothing besides their skimpy dresses. those that i envy don’t dance alone, but with a man beside them, hands on their body, faces inches apart. they are able to focus on the one person in front of them, tuning out the hundreds of people surrounding them. but, each person that i see all have one thing in common - they fit in. and i want that too, so bad, instead of feeling so misplaced - that feeling ripe within me, apparent ever since he left.

everyone knew about tom and i’s breakup, hell, how could they not? ‘germany’s biggest heartthrob - tokio hotel guitarist tom kaulitz, parts with model girlfriend after two years!’ - that’s a headline most reporters dream of, christmas having come early for them when the news came out. and it spread like wildfire, his fans - who were particularly notorious for not being entirely fond of tom finding a long term girlfriend - had hit the jackpot. they speculated, some saying that i cheated on him, some insistent on me being too controlling - others even going as far as to say i made him choose between me and the band. but when it came down to it, they were just rumours, plain and simple. no one is aware of the true reasoning behind it - only the two of us knew why we parted.

it was a mutual agreement, yet tom was the one that initiated it. the distance inevitably put between us as a result of him travelling on tours, from continent to continent, state to state, meant that we rarely saw each other, this putting stress on the both of us. i wanted us to work, more than anything, yet the way we drifted apart from each other made it impossible, being with him feeling like a chore as every small disagreement would blow way out of proportion, usually fixed by sex, the cycle repeating for the last few weeks of our relationship, until it reached breaking point. and i didn’t want to be used for my body, though i knew deep down tom loved me for more than that, fixing our problems with physical intimacy was only a temporary solution - leading to us parting ways.

that was one reason for our breakup, however the other was far more serious, and tom wasn’t even aware of it - but i had been speculating for a while. with his frequent travelling, i knew that i wasn’t the only girl in his life. how could i have been? he would go without seeing me for weeks, and whilst he had changed past his womanising ways, it would be stupidly naïve of me to think that he had moved on from that lifestyle completely. or perhaps my mind was tricking me, the loneliness i was often left to increasing the paranoia. though he had never explicitly given me the impression he was cheating, the thought always nagged in my mind, making the breakup slightly easier once he announced that we were no longer working. he promised that he still loved me, that maybe in the future things would work out, but i knew that was just a way to make our separation less bitter.

the constant articles, pictures, videos, and speculations of tom with other women each week lead me to the present, drinking my sorrows away a month after our breakup, wishing that i had never let him go despite agreeing that us parting ways would be the best solution. i was tired too, sick of fighting for a relationship that was no longer there. sometimes it felt utterly one sided, like i was the only one willing to try. tom refused to admit this, reminding me that "i know how much he loves me". however we just didn’t work anymore, his claims of our love like empty spews of desperation, but any words uttered from his beautiful mouth were words of truth to me, until i came to the soul-crushing realisation that he doesn’t adore me the way he did when we first met, all those years ago.

but god, every time i see pictures of him with a girl that isn't me, my heart wrenches at the sight, slowly tearing my insides apart as i recognise letting him go as my deepest regret. and the anger at not only myself, but him for leaving me eats me up, alcohol and temporary fixes being the only thing that can put my ill mind at ease.

but tonight tom isn’t on my mind. i’m desperate, longing for the touch of anyone who will give me the attention. that is why i left the house wearing nothing but a tight black dress that barely passed my mid-thighs. tom would never let me leave the house in such an outfit alone. he was always over-protective over me, loving the idea that I was his and only his. however he had left me, and i don’t care how promiscuous i appear, because admittedly, i am more needy than ever. my body running way ahead of my mind, i move sloppily to the rhythm of the music, feeling two hands grab my waist gently, pulling me into them as i turn around, seeing a tall-ish guy with fluffy blonde hair smirking down me.

he wasn’t tom. he could never be tom. nobody could. not a single person on this earth could even come close to him, could make me feel the way he did, both mentally and physically. right now it doesn’t matter, i don’t care who he is, because, on the surface, he is a male giving me attention, something which i have craved over this last month of loneliness.

"hi there." I utter drunkenly, slurring my words and backing further into him, the alcohol sinking more and more into my system as i no longer care who is dancing with me, this being the first time i have experienced physical touch since tom. and oh god how i’ve missed it. i’m a mess; a desperate, foolish fucking mess. if tom could see me right now, he wouldn’t recognise me. hell, i don't even know who i am anymore - in all honesty i had lost every part of what i thought i was the second he had walked out of the door. somehow, through the alcohol and attractive man behind me, tom is all my mind can focus on - his body the only clear image in there, beyond the fuzziness from the alcohol. i utterly despise the way he has such an effect on me, knowing that he has already gotten over our relationship despite the years we spent together, even before we had started dating, we had been close friends. using all the strength within me, i drown out every thought of him, attempting to enjoy the bitter-sweet freedom and get over him.

"what's your name beautiful?" the mysterious guy shouts over the crowd, tightening his grip on my waist.

"doesn’t matter." i reply. honestly, it didn’t - i probably won’t see this guy ever again, not after fucking him anyway. in any other circumstance, i would be scolding myself for giving myself up so easily, selling myself like some cheap slut. now though, i’m no longer myself, turning to face him, latching my arms around his neck. "what's yours?"

"alex." he responds, clearly not looking to make conversation, his dick appearing to be doing all the talking. "do you wanna get out of here?" he signals to the door, my head nodding eagerly in response, craving for any intimate moment no matter who it is with. part of me convinces myself that i am with tom, that it is him i am leaving the club with, as i would every single time. i imagine that it is him holding me with such adoration, that it is him soothing me in every way possible, yet i know that he is never coming back.

my body pushes its way through the crowd, uttering broken excuse me’s as i walk by, legs becoming weaker by the second as my vision slowly blurs. i soon pick up on the reality of the situation, disgust and shame echoing within me as i realise how fucked up my mind truly is. i am about to have sex with a guy who I have never met before - whether or not tom had broken my heart, i deserved to have morals. the rationality ticking in by the second, i roughly pull out of alex's grasp, his tall frame turning around in confusion.

"i- i have to get to my friends." i lie, totally aware that i came here alone, my words barely audible as my breathing becomes uneven.

"no, come with me, don't be like this baby." he smiles, pulling me along with him, tears soon clouding my vision as the chances of me escaping the situation seem to slip through my fingers before i can gather any sense of what is happening.

"let me go!" i muster all the courage and strength within me and yank my arm away, stumbling backwards into the cold brick wall behind me, the harshness causing me to shiver as i bite the inside of my mouth, praying for something, anything, to take me out of this situation. alex nears towards me, our faces inches apart as he towers over me, my body weak and defenceless against his.

"stop being such a bratty fucking bitch and just come with me-" he begins, grabbing ahold of my arm, only to be pushed to the floor in a matter of seconds, my head looking upwards in confusion to be met with a face i dreaded and longed to see at the same time.

"fuck off!" tom begins, squaring up to alex, who is useless against him, the height difference almost humorous. if i hadn’t been scared for my life seconds prior, i probably would’ve laughed, though the only thing i am truly able to process is the confusion that soon replaces any fear within me. "you ever go near my girl again and i'll break your fucking jaw. you understand, hm?" he shouts, alex smiling to himself and walking away, clearly not looking for a fight, though his cold glare moments ago said otherwise. his girl. i am everything but, closer to being the complete opposite, though i am too startled to consider questioning his words right now.

my body refuses to move, paralysed in utter shock, wondering whether the alcohol is causing me to hallucinate. i hadn’t seen tom since the day i moved out of his house, and now he is standing in front of me. and fuck, he looks good. it doesn’t matter that it has only been a month, somehow he seems to look much better, and undeniably different. his hair, usually a dark shade of blonde, the thick locks tied into a ponytail, adorned with whatever cap matched his outfit, is changed, almost so drastically it is hard to recognise him. instead, jet black braids rest on his shoulders, the colour mirroring his entire outfit - dark and cold. his cap is replaced with a small bandana, fitted securely around his forehead, the silver piercing on his lips now just as dark as his hair, matte black, making the soft shade of pink on his lips stand out even more.

though his new look is certainly a shock, the more daunting realisation comes merely from his presence. he is here - standing inches away from me. i am unable to gauge his next move, his expression still just as harsh as it had been once he had threatened that guy. however, any doubts i have are quickly put to bed, his tensed frame nearing mine, planting a calloused hand on my shoulder before pulling me into a tight hug, his thumb caressing my lower back whilst his other hand rests in my hair. i sob into his chest, failing pathetically to hide my emotions as i cling on to him, my small frame shaking due to the cold berlin weather and my irrational state.

"i’m so sorry." he mutters, resting his head on top of mine. i cannot respond, choking on my tears and unable to do anything but hold onto him as if he may slip away. my vision is slowly blurring, the countless drinks i had making their appearance as i realise how badly i have fucked up by coming here. beyond my intoxicated state, i realise that i don’t want to be this close to tom. i long to scream at the top of my lungs, something about how he made me feel, how fucked up he is, and how much i hate him, but right now i am too shaken to even stand up alone, so i save my breath and prepare to spew my feelings out when i have the energy.

"we need to get you home." he mutters, pulling away after a couple minutes. i stare into his eyes for the first time since we broke up, his immediately filling with hurt once he registers my damaged expression. "god, this is all my fault." he whispers under his breath, guiding me to his car, grabbing his jacket that he always kept in the back for instances like this, knowing that i get cold easily. it brings me some comfort knowing that he kept the jacket there, though it probably means nothing. he places it gently over my shivering frame before climbing into the driver’s side and beginning to drive to my apartment. the house that tom and i shared was in his name, meaning that i insisted on moving out. despite us breaking up, he helped me find a place, a decent sized two bedroom apartment in the heart of berlin. though it wasn't nearly as perfect as our home, it was something, and i am grateful for it.

i face away from him, not willing to forgive him despite my vulnerable state just moments before. no matter how much he protected me just then, i can’t place my trust in him, my heart and mind still wary, the thought of him discarding me for other girls so nonchalantly after we parted fresh in my mind.

"i missed you." he announces into the empty silence, his head turning in my direction whilst i scoff in response. "don't lie to me tom." his words bring anger coursing through my veins the second they utter from his mouth, sobriety soon taking over me as the alcohol quickly wares off. if he missed me, he wouldn't have fucked every girl he has seen this past month, he would have come back, or better yet, he wouldn’t have left me in the first place.

"i'm telling the truth." he begins, hesitantly turning his gaze to meet mine, my eyes filling with tears before i can attempt to collect my composure. "i regret leaving you. i need you to-"

"do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? i haven't been eating, sleeping, you've just seen me almost have sex with a guy i'd barely known for five minutes for gods sake!" i shout, my voice breaking as the tears cascade inevitably down my cheeks, unable to hide my vulnerability in this moment. he winces slightly at the mention of me nearly sleeping with alex, his grip on the wheel increasing whilst his jaw is clenched.

he is hurt. i have known him long enough to be able to distinguish how he is feeling without him saying a word. the pained look on his face almost pleases me, glad to see him guilty over the emotional turmoil he has caused me, because i long for him to grasp even a small segment of how i feel, and my small outburst has definitely achieved that.

"i’m sorry. i never deserved you, now even less than ever. i fucked up, badly. i have no idea how to make it up to you. help me, please schatz. i want to be better, for you." he finishes, pulling into his driveway as the dark grey gates open, revealing the house that i share so many memories in, yet it feels strangely foreign, like i don’t belong here, and i never did.

"sure doesn't seem like it." i begin. "from everything i've seen online you seem to have gotten over me pretty fast. thought you were better than meaningless sex, but i guess not. same old tom." i scoff, shaking my head in disbelief of his empty words.

"what are you talking about? i haven't had sex with anyone. not since you anyway." he fires back, staring into my eyes, and for some reason, i don't think he is lying, the amount of time spent with him across my life meaning i can read him like a book.

"whatever, i don’t have the fucking energy for this. besides, you said you were taking my home. this isn’t my house anymore, incase you fucking forgot.” i state matter-of-factly, not in the mood for continuing this conversation, or even being around him.

"you can barely walk. no way was i leaving you to go home alone. you can spend the night here." he replies assertively, stepping out of the car as i do the same, slamming the door shut in frustration.

"you don't have to protect me tom. we aren't together anymore." i respond bitterly, looking down at the ground, wishing it would swallow me up. his hand gently grazes mine, testing his limits as he attempts to take his hand in mine, to which i quickly refuse, pulling away and looking at him in confusion.

"what are you doing?" i hiss, looking upwards as he puts his hands up, surrendering.

"sorry just, please come inside, you're freezing in that tiny dress." not having the energy to argue, i reluctantly sigh, following him inside, taking in the all too familiar surroundings and immediately reminiscing on all the memories i have here, longing to go back to the time when things weren't so complicated.

"look i-" tom begins, however his words are soon shortened to a stop as i quickly cut him off, lethargic and carrying a lack of effort to argue with him, because i know that no matter how long i let him speak, the conversation will only end badly, turning even more sour than it already is right now.

"i'm tired, please can we talk about this in the morning." i sigh, my head pounding as i groan out in pain, massaging my temples slowly and closing my eyes.

"okay, you take our- my bed and i'll sleep in the guest room. there's some of my hoodies in there for you to sleep in." he responds, a look of defeat evident among his complexion, relief coursing through me as i nod my head, walking up to his bedroom. the countless nights i spent in this room, wrapped in his arms, the countless mornings i woke up to his affection, the countless evenings we shared intimate moments all seem to be lost as i feel a stranger here, almost misplaced without a sense of belonging.

i open the wardrobe, immediately knowing which door has his hoodies from when i would often steal one, something he is used to me doing. i pick out my favourite one. it is simple - a white hoodie with writing printed across its front. to others, it holds little meaning, however even after our breakup, it holds thousands of memories, because it is what he wore when we had our first kiss, and the first piece of clothing he ever gave me, this small act something i won’t ever be able to forget. slipping my dress off and the hoodie over my head, his scent quickly envelops me, providing with all the security i have been longing for, my mind quickly breaking down as tears cloud my vision, my desire to have him holding me taking over as i wish that we would have never parted.

climbing into the soft sheets, i attempt to fall asleep, any element of lethargy in my body fading away as i crave to be in tom’s arms like i have been each time i have laid in this bed. his side is cold and empty, my body shuffling over to it as i snuggle into his pillow, reaching out pathetically to any remnant of him i have left. seconds feel like hours of me thinking of him, wondering if he cares anywhere close to the extent that i do, finding myself longing to take a small look inside his mind, because all i want is his love. the darkness encloses me, silence echoing throughout the empty house and only fuelling my wandering mind. every thought flashes back to him, and i loathe how he can consume my entire being without even being aware of the effect he has on me.

eventually, my eyes begin to droop, almost falling into a somewhat peaceful slumber, however before i can do so, the door creaks open, light from the hallway leaking into the bedroom, before it is cast out seconds later with the soft click of the door closing, footsteps nearing the bed as i feel it dip beside me. my body is afraid to move, instead laying still in confusion until i feel a single hand brush against my shoulder, causing me to whip my head around, tom’s eyes gazing into mine.

‘i can't do it." he mutters, scanning my eyes with his own, only the seas of brown are filled with sorrow, slightly distinguishable through the darkness.

as much as i want to tell him to leave, to scold him for disturbing me when i was finally close to falling asleep, i simply can’t. i am compelled to him, silently thanking his impulsiveness and finding myself pleading for us to work things out.

"can't do what?" i respond, laying on my side and facing him, our bodies at each side of the bed as he is slightly reluctant to push my boundaries.

"live without you, i can't do it. i need you." he replies, slowly reaching his hand out until it meets mine, his fingers clasping mine in the centre of the bed, this small act of physical affection being the only thing that binds us together, yet it is more than enough.

"you broke me tom." i whisper, blinking away the tears as i refuse to cry again, tired of being so vulnerable around him. “do you realise that?”

"i know, and i’m so sorry schatz. i’ll never be able to make that up to you. but i want to try, can you let me do that? please baby." his body slowly nears mine, until our faces are inches apart. he removes his hand from mine, my face falling in disappointment, however this quickly turns into curiosity as it moves only to reach up and caress my cheek, wiping the single tear that had fallen with his thumb. i wither helplessly into his touch, feeling completely and utterly trapped within his affection. i am bound to him, left hopeless and attached. no matter how much i try fight, it is useless, my body and my mind is unable to function without him.

"it’s only you schatz." he mutters, his face nearing mine as he captures my lips in a sweet kiss, the first one we have shared in over a month. the way his lips fit so perfectly with mine, their softness contrasting with the harshness he showed me all those weeks ago, makes me wonder how i managed to live without this feeling all this time. he is a drug, his kisses addictive as i find myself longing for more, desperate to make up for the lost intimacy as a result of our separation.

"i love you." he whispers against my lips, reattaching them almost immediately with even more desire than before, sealing every unspoken apology in the most beautiful way possible. the darkness between us is a barrier, preventing my vision from witnessing the man above me. tom reaches quickly to flip the bedside lamp on, faded yellow light leaking dimly around the room, illuminating his features as i can finally see every part of him. and oh god, is he perfect. his lips plump and parted, tinted with a rosy shade of pink, adorned with that same piercing that drives me crazy each and every time, tired and shaky breaths erupting from them whilst i stare into his eyes, deep pools of brown that i could get lost in if i look for too long.

his body. crafted by god himself - concrete proof that he really does have favourites. each inch of skin soft and sheen, resembling silk itself whilst my fingers slowly trail down it, melting into the pale surface , past his chest to his chiselled abs, gently grazing the muscle and refusing to break eye contact. my hand creeps lower and lower, tom becoming increasingly flustered until they reach the waistband of his boxers. at an agonisingly slow pace, my finger slips inside, fiddling with the waistband whilst touching the skin there, refusing to move my hand any lower whilst i take in tom’s expression. his eyes are flickering between being fully closed and half-lidded, barely noticeable wrinkles lining his forehead as his eyebrows knit together, lips parted with shaky breaths uttering from them, the cold air fanning onto my face, heavy against his warm kiss.

"fuck- please don't tease." he whispers, resting his forehead against mine and beginning to slowly kiss my lips once again, my body feeling full again as i soon realise how much i missed this feeling. complying with his plea, my hand slips further into his boxers, a choked breath muffling into my mouth as i begin to gently move my hand up and down. he struggles to kiss back, soft moans escaping from his lips and mixing into mine in the most delightful way possible as i pick up the pace.

"oh my god..." he trails off, his voice vibrating into the soft skin below my ear once his head falls just below it, my movements not slowing, the slight whines emitting from his mouth pushing me further, desperate to please him. the fast and sloppy kisses being placed onto my neck soon slow down, giving me the signal that he is close. he clutches onto my waist, his fingers running up and down whilst his legs slightly tremble, his release taking over as he lets out a loud groan, a string of curses following until he slips his boxers off, regaining his composure and climbing fully on top of me.

our faces are inches apart, my ragged breathing echoing my desperation to feel him inside me, because it has been so long since i have experienced the feeling, and it is like no other. his thumb runs along my lips, pulling the bottom one downward slowly and releasing it, before moving his head to the nape of my neck, placing slow and gentle kisses.

"you have no idea what i want to do to you schatz." he mutters against my skin, nipping at it gently, these words alone almost being enough to let go, to lose any remnant of composure i have and allow him to take me right there and then. his calloused hands reach for the large hoodie draped over my frame, pulling it over my head as i am almost completely naked, my underwear being the only barrier between us and exercising those silent promises of our love on the tips of our tongues.

"so perfect." he whispers, caressing my cheek lightly. pressing himself against me, his hand reaches to caress my now exposed breast, kissing and biting at any skin he can get access to, inaudible spews of satisfaction swallowing the silence surrounding us, my hands pushing his head further downwards ever so slightly, savouring the pleasure and wishing it would last forever. he slowly pulls away, maintaining eye contact as he reaches for my panties, swiftly tugging them downward and discarding them somewhere across the room, like the rest of our clothing.

skin to skin, the warm and bare air a mirror to our nakedness, we kiss with such hunger, such desire that our need for each other is palpable, so strong that i swear if i tried, i could feel it. because he is that love, his body living and breathing evidence that this love is real, not something that can only be felt inside, though the fire that his touch ignites within me is one that will burn forever, as long as he vows to supply the heat that is his affection. my hands clutch onto his back, his roaming my waist and pushing our hips into each other, ragged breaths echoing throughout the room as i find myself becoming too impatient. although part of me wants to savour this moment as it is our first special one in over a month, one part of me, the more irrational side, wants him to ruin me, wants him to claim me as his own and do whatever his heart desires. i am his to destroy, because if it means that i can be with him for eternity, then i am willing to do anything.

"tom…i need you." i whisper helplessly against his lips, no longer able to mask my hunger.

he places one final kiss to my lips, stroking my hair gently and positioning himself to my entrance. my eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, relishing this feeling and preparing for the intense pleasure that i have been so empty without.

“then i’m all yours.” he speaks softly, sliding into me slowly before i am able to repeat my desperate plea. because if i tried, i know that my speech would be inaudible, struggling to breathe at the feeling of him filling me up.

unaccustomed to his size, or any dick for the last month, i wince in pain before he is even halfway in, gripping his bicep and giving him the signal to stop. "wait a minute." i state breathlessly, biting down on my lip as he stops his motion, gently stroking my cheek with his palm and awaiting my permission to carry on. feeling him stretch my walls fills the hole within me, once hollow and empty, however the pain takes longer to subside, tom slowly biting and kissing the sensitive skin on my jaw whilst he waits.

"c’mon baby, you can take it." he mumbles against me, the raspiness within his voice vibrating up my spine, motivating me to tune out the pain and allow him to pleasure me. "okay." i whisper, pleasure soon starting to take over as he moves into me, stopping and throwing his head back as he bottoms out, his tip hitting my g-spot perfectly, this being enough for me to cry out, my screams echoing throughout the room, the air thick with passion. his eyes are screwed shut, sweat lining along his forehead, his breathing ragged and uneven, yet he only increases his stamina, picking my leg up and placing it over his shoulder.

the new angle sends me into euphoria, my vision turning white as i can do nothing but scream his name, my fingers raking down his back. he memorises the way he hits my g-spot, doing it over and over again, bringing me closer to my release, yet i can tell he is not there yet, prompting me to hold it so i can share my high with him.

"fuck me..." his voice trails off, his eyebrows furrowing as he savours the pleasure. my legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer inwards, if that is physically possible. somehow he is still going, not showing any signs of lethargy. he is desperate to meet his release, hips snapping against mine with such intensity, his head buried in the crook of my neck, the incoherent groans escaping from his mouth fanning over the bare skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"tom i'm so close!" i moan, knowing that i will not last much longer. i do not know if it is the absence of sexual intimacy in my life recently, or my intense desire for him, but this time around, my ability to contain myself is long gone.

"i know baby, i know..." he sighs out, the feeling him twitching inside of me silently letting me know that he is almost there too. "just hold it for me." overstimulation soon takes over, the feeling of him moving in and out of me providing me with such overwhelming pleasure that my mouth gapes open, no sound escaping as i am utterly speechless, drunk on the sensation and a complete mess beneath him. i could cry at the feeling, on the verge of tears with each stroke, wondering how this moment is reality, seeming entirely too good to be true.

"okay baby, let go." he breathes out, his voice shaky as it is soon cut off with a choked moan, his load shooting into me as mine soon follows. i swear i can see stars, my eyes not able to stay still, my whole body the same as it trembles uncontrollably, tom’s slow and steady thrusts sending me into oblivion as he rides out our highs, his lips hovering over mine. "oh my god" is all he can say, still inside me, his mouth eventually moulding with mine, the kiss filled with so much energy despite the amount of stamina that was used just seconds before.

i am not done yet, my body feeling like it has just started as i have the motivation to go one thousands times over, addicted to the way he feels. "let me be on top." i mutter against his lips, the pillowy skin battling to try continue kissing me. in one swift motion, he flips us over, moving upwards so that his back is resting against the headboard, his hands placed steadily on my waist whilst i sit on top of him. i waste no time, hovering over him and sliding downwards, letting him fill me up and sighing loudly as i do, tom tightening his hold on me and muttering a slow ‘jesus christ’, his voice low, words as sweet as honey as they sound from the back of his throat.

pressing open mouthed kisses against my jaw, neck, collarbone, anywhere he is able to access, he groans out in pleasure, his hands remaining steadily on my hips whilst i easily maintain my rhythm. with a slight change in the movement of my hips, his tip presses against my g-spot, the friction causing me to cry out, him doing the same as his head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut, savouring the ecstasy. my hands lay flat against his chest, watching it heave up and down with each unsteady breath he takes, his muscles flexing with each squeeze of my waist, this only encouraging me to go further, the sight of him being pleasured by me almost pushing me to my release alone.

the feeling so good i question whether i have reached heaven itself, though my actions won’t get me anywhere near, my mind wanders how i survived for so long without him, without his dick inside me, without his hands on mine - because right now he is my oxygen, my sole purpose. i can barely catch my breath, my legs shaking uncontrollably whilst my hips circle around his, feeling every inch of him inside of me. my body leans forward, skin to skin, as i bite down on his shoulder, becoming increasingly tired, however i am so desperate for my release that i continue my slow and lethargic movements.

tom is quick to pick up on my change in speed, grabbing my hips once again and angling himself correctly, before thrusting into me from below, the sudden pressure causing a throaty moan to escape from my swollen lips.

"fuck…missed this, missed you so much baby." he mutters, his whole body tensing for a second whilst he begins to twitch inside of me.

"i’m close." he groans, meeting my lips in a sloppy kiss before i can respond. i don’t even bother trying to hold it, instead allowing my release to take over me, my vision turning white as i cling onto tom’s shoulders, my head buried in the crook of his neck, crying out in pleasure as it is so intense i almost feel myself slip away. his release soon follows, mouth gaping open, eyebrows furrowing and sweat glistening his chiselled frame, outlining his muscle in the most attractive way possible. he still strokes in and out of me slowly, his hands wrapped around my small frame, no space between us. my breathing ragged, hair a mess and body trembling, i pull away from his shoulder to look into his eyes, pressing my forehead against his as i can do nothing but admire him.

“shit- i love you so much." he manages to breathe out, moving a few stray hairs from my face and planting a last kiss on my forehead, slowly pulling out of me, the loss of contact making me whine slightly as i cling onto him, afraid of losing him ever again.

"i love you too." i respond, certainty uttering from every word as i find myself more in love with him, the best sex we have ever had replaying over and over again in my memory, our naked bodies pressed together.

"i promise you, i never slept with anyone else. i never even kissed another girl. i couldn't, it wouldn't have been right, not when you were the only person on my mind." he speaks slowly yet firmly after a few seconds of peaceful silence, pulling my body further onto his as he rests his forehead against mine, stroking my hair gently.

i move my head upwards, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "why not? there's so many girls that you could've had. what was stopping you?" i ask, lacing my hand with his and beginning to play with his fingers, the skin soft and smooth.

"the fact that they weren't you." he responds, gently lifting my chin upwards with his pointer finger, tenderly running his thumb along my cheek. "i never got over you. i hope you know that."

deciding that actions speak louder than words in this instance, i place my lips on his, sealing our love with a sweet kiss as he instantly kisses back, laying downwards flat against the bed whilst i am still on top of him. i slowly pull away, my entire body aching, eyes fluttering shut as a tired yawn escapes from my mouth. tom reaches over to turn the lamp off, laying down beside me and opening his arms out, my head resting on his chest, his thumb running comfortingly up and down my arm. "goodnight meine liebe." he whispers, my throat sore from our rendezvous, so i place a quick kiss on his chest in response, my eyes falling shut as sleep takes me. our legs entangled, bodies together, heartbeats aligned, i feel him now more than ever. not just physically, but i feel him mentally, spiritually, our mind and being merged together as one.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[jeongin-lvr]

This's kinda freaky but hear me out!!

Skz member#1 fuck reader and film it to send it to skz member#2 who is her boyfriend.

Skz member#1 was fwb w/ reader but she ended it cause she has a boyfriend now, and skz member#1 is jealous of skz member#2 and wants him to know who owns that pussy.

(I'm kinda into that type of things, lol)

immediately yes pls… my guilty pleasure is shit like this >< makes me think of hanji & felix for some reason :p

Jisung wasn’t having it. You were his— originally, at least. Sure, he didn’t get to call you his girlfriend or give you his last name, but everyone knew you were his. He thought you knew as well. But then he found out you got yourself a boyfriend and suddenly he was gritting his teeth fuming. How could you? How dare you? And the fact that you still kept his number in your phone… the same contact, the same random texts at night. Oh, Jisung was going insane. He knew you still wanted him; he knew he’s the only one who could have you, and he knew you knew that very well. Yet, you were still posting pictures of your “perfect, pretty boyfriend.” You were still telling everyone he was amazing.

Jisung wondered why you were even wasting your time. He’s seen the pictures of your boyfriend— Felix. Even the name makes him scowl. Felix was too innocent looking, too kind, the way he held you in pictures was nothing like how Jisung held you. It was different, softer. It almost made Jisung laugh whenever he saw them. Was it jealousy? Maybe, but it was also smugness. His name was practically carved into you at this point, Felix was just an added accessory. Maybe it was sad how Jisung still waited by his phone every weekend, manifesting your call on his screen as he stared at it. Maybe he was the one who should be embarrassed, but he didn’t have it in him. He always found himself accepting the invitation to your house, to invitation to fuck you. It’s like the second he heard your voice he folded. The anger he felt for being the second choice dissipated and all he longed for was you— your momentary ecstasy. The only time when he can call you truly his. Maybe it’s pathetic, he’s beginning to believe that he actually is, but he can’t help himself. It’s an incurable urge, an insatiable need.

“You’re mine— mine,” Jisung moans as he bends to your face, the flat, toned surface of his chest meeting yours, sweats mixing, eye contact unbearably toxic, “Say it to me.” God, he wants to cry, from the pleasure the absolute burn he feels when he sees you. He almost sounds angry, hissing out demands. You obey them always, your infidelity clearly not a worry in your brain. You breathlessly respond as his hips drive into you, again and again. Over and over in the same spot that he knows drives you mad. “I’m yours— Hannie, m’ all yours, please, baby!” Your nails dig into his shoulders but he doesn’t feel it, his big brown eyes shimmer down at you. “Louder.”

“I’m y-yours!” Your back arched off the sheets, Jisung’s fingertips sliding up your body and onto your throat and jaw. He touches you like lava on water, stinging and singeing. Burns of lust and bliss. Your vision is blurry and suddenly Jisung is wide awake, the pure rage becomes smugness again because, well, you just said it. You’re his. He knows it’s just temporary, but what if it didn’t have to be? Your perfect, little boyfriend might not like that his girlfriend is being fucked brainless by another man— he may not be aware of it now but Jisung was more than capable of changing that. So as your eyes cross and roll back, Jisung reaches for your phone, the screen alight with 3 messages from your boyfriend: “Where are you?” “I miss you.” “Come home soon.” And it almost makes him laugh. Oh, he knew this was evil, he knew this was an irreversible, bitter act. But so was cheating on your supposedly-perfect boyfriend.

Was it an act of jealousy or an act of revenge? Either way, he was doing it. So he opened your phone, placing the Face ID in front of your fucked-out face, snickering of how unaware you were. He laughs as your messages open and, of course, the chat was with Felix. The three messages practically burning into his retinas. He clicks the camera icon and doesn’t hesitate before clicking record. His hips relentless, but slowing now just so the camera wouldn’t shake too much. You blinked, callously breathing while your eyes stared at the ceiling above. “Baby, look at the camera,” Jisung commanded, your obedience was perfect, immediately looking curiously at the phone in front of your face. Your phone. You parted your lips to speak, only to feel the quick interjection of his cock thrust deep inside you, a moan falling from between your lips, “Who do you belong to?” Him. “Y-you.” Who? “M’ yours, Ji!” That’s right.

“Say to your boyfriend, baby, I’m sure he’ll be so happy to see you,” Jisung chuckles, tongue gliding over his teeth. You’re too fucked stupid to even reply, moaning as his thrusts became indecent, too quick and rough. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to press send, he flips you both around, situating you on his lap, a simple command of, “Fuck yourself on me, bub.” His eyes fixated on the screen; he watches the little grey dots appear and disappear, he watches so happily. He has it immortalized forever, you’re his. And now your boyfriend knows. Your boyfriend is well aware of what a cheating slut you are, the three dots appear again. And the message that sends makes Jisung laugh boisterously, throwing the phone down as his hips instantly reach for your waist, helping you bounce on his cock, “Felix said hi.”

[realcube]

hiii my sweet toe bunny😍😚🤎 i have an upcoming gigahuge exam bc it will determine whether i have to go to school for another whole damn year or not so im getting the stress hornies big time!! your requests seem to be open for some reason?! good writers like you are usually busy with a flood of them so i can never request anything😭 but anyways i was gonna throw you this little peanut, a classic really: size kink with lev! dont even know if you write for him lol, couldnt see it on ur profile🥲 i think he’d have the size kink more than any of us ever could, i just feel like he goes crazy especially if its a much shorter person. bc having a size difference from far away is one thing, but being right next to the person and interacting with them and putting your hand on their back and realizing you’re nearly twice their size… is another.

feel free to ignore this pookie butt im soo sorry if this is too specific or something ☹️☹️ writing is hard and getting inspired by someone elses idea is even harder, so yeah. stay hydrated and keep emitting gamma rays☃️

LEV HAIBA + SIZE KINK

a/n → not the sweet toe bunny 😭 stress hornies is so real, sorry for replying so late rah. but i hope your exam went well. or if you haven't sat it yet , good luck and i hope this helps :) also thank you so much for i compliments i can'tttt aaa 😩 wc — 2.5k

tags/tws → size kink (ofc lol), petite!reader, breeding, vaginal, fingering, oral (giving), frenching, petnames, semi-public, pregnancy implications & no beta

you've seen haiba lev before, in magazines and on billboards. sometimes even on television, promoting luxury perfumes in advertisements or modelling designer clothes on the runway.

you knew he was tall — most models are — but it was only when you saw him in person that you realised how truly big he is, how he towers over everyone else on set.

you work as an intern for a famous fashion brand, and you met haiba during a photoshoot he was doing for their new office wear campaign. your job was mostly fetching food or drinks for the models; making sure they were comfortable at all times.

the first interaction you ever had with him was when you were handing out water bottles to the models as they walked onto set, and as soon as you saw his huge frame saunter in, you almost froze from shock. he flashes you a polite smile and mouthed a quick "thank you" as he followed the director to where ever she was leading him.

and though it was brief, that was enough to have you fixated on him for the rest of the photoshoot. you were attentive to your duties but still so mesmerised by him. his lean figure and silvery hair. you had always known lev haiba was exceptionally attractive — he's a model, for fucks' sake — but something about seeing him in person made you feral.

and little did you know, after he first saw you, lev kept an eye out for you too. admiring from afar how hard you worked, and making sure to flex just a little bit more for the photos whenever you were nearby. he just thought you were so cute.

you assumed this whole situation would end as a little temporary work crush. you can fangirl over him for now and blush whenever he smirks at you from across the room, but once this shoot was over, he would never think of you again, while you'd go back to seeing his face plastered nearly everywhere and fantasize about what could've been.

but that wasn't lev's idea. he was used to pursing what he wants.

when the shoot is nearing completion for the day, lev has a long conversation with the photographer and is one of the last models to leave the set.

you were tasked with helping the models remove the designer's clothes, if they needed it. thankfully the majority of them didn't and by the time lev entered the changing room, all the others were leaving to go home, and you were wishing them a safe journey.

"excuse me, ms?" you hear a voice call from the changing room, followed by lev stepping out from behind curtain. he was previously wearing a full suit, but you can see he's shedded the black blazer and was now in only the fitted white shirt, black trousers and dress shoes.

he was looking down and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, "could you help with this, please?" he asks with an awkward chuckle.

lips slightly parted at his unexpected inquiry, once the initial shock fades, you hastily nod and guide him back into the changing room, and this time you enter with him.

it's a confined area but still somewhat big. there's enough space for the two of you to stand, a stool, a clothes rack and full length mirror. he stands before you while you work on unbuttoning his shirt, starting from the top.

"sorry for asking you do this. the buttons are just too small for me." he holds his hands up as a size comparison, and they're undoubtly big.

"it's okay," you stutter, not daring to break your intense stare with his buttons because you know if you were to look up at his face, you might die. "i know these can be very fiddly sometimes."

"exactly." he nods in agreement.

it takes you quite a while to even reach his mid-torso because your hands are shaking so much from being in such close proximity to a celebrity you admire so much. and not only that, but you're literally taking his clothes off. and lev takes notice of his and comments, "nervous?"

your eyes widen and you freeze, heart jumping to your throat. eventually, you're able to squeak, "kinda."

"why?" he laughs, but not in a mocking way. he's genuinely confused as to why you'd be scared of someone like him. it's funny because people usually praise him for being very friendly and approachable.

"you're just.." your voice trails off, trying to think of a way to explain yourself without sounding offensive. "intimidating, y'know, in stature."

lev laughs even harder this time, "woah, that takes me back to when i was in high school. people used to be scared of me because i was the tallest kid in class." he explains, and you detect a hint of pride in his tone.

"that makes sense." you muse, continuing to work on his buttons but it becomes increasingly difficult. especially as he captures your chin between his fingers and pushed your head up so you meet his fiery gaze.

"doesn't make any sense to me." after soaking up your cute flustered expression, he glances down and sees you've only got one button left to do, so he prompts, "go on."

since your fingers are already latched onto it, you're somehow able to undo it without looking. he then releases his grip on your chin so he can slip the shirt off, hanging it up on the adjacent rack.

now shirtless, he turns to you and hums, "your turn?"

lips pressed into a line and heat burning your cheek, the only response you're physically able to give is a meek squeak accompanied by an eager nod. which doesn't even begin to encompass your enthusiasm but perhaps that's for the best.

he smiles at your agreement and grabs the bottom of your top and pulls it off in one swift motion, leaving you standing in your bra in front of him. and before you have a moment to process any of this, he slips one arm behind your shoulder and his other hand reclaims its spot on your jaw to manoeuvre your head upwards, so it's ready to receive his kiss when his lips suddenly come crashing down onto yours.

despite your tact, now that his lips have locked with yours, you find yourself melting into his touch and moving your against him rhythmically. your bodies — though vastly different in proportions — arching into each other desperately.

while one hand sloppily undoes his belt and pulls his cock free from the designer trouser, the other hand on your jaw slowly moves to hold your cheek as the two of you kiss fervently, then it shifts up to your ear, then tangles itself in your hair which he uses to gently pull you away.

you whine quietly at the seperation, missing his hot lips against your own, and he smirks at your reaction. eyes glued to yours, he rasps, "you want it, pretty?"

he motions downwards and you bite your lip at the sight; his size alone is enough to leave you dumdfounded and nodding pathetically, eager to hop on to his monstrous length.

"good girl. think you can handle it?"

"uhuh." you whisper, shaky hands wandering down to take hold of him, and he lets you. in fact, with his grip on your hair, he yanks you down until your face is mere inches away from his tip, "taste first."

with hesitation, you drop to your knees and graciously accept as much of him as you can into your mouth, though that is barely even half. lev still appreciates it; the warmth of your mouth causing his breath to hitch. his cock even twitches at the sight of your cheeks puffed out, struggling to hold him inside.

when his tip prods the back of your throat, it causes you to gag a little, so you immediately jerk away from his cock and cough into your arm.

a concerned look crosses his features and he lightly rubs your back to aid your coughing, "ah, sorry." he apologises, as if it was his fault his cock was so huge that you were gagging on it.

"it's okay." you grate once your coughing fit has calmed down, throat still a bit dry.

he offers you his hand to help you stand up, "c'mon, cutie, that's enough teasing." he reassures you.

you place your hand upon his and as he guides you to your feet , you can't help but notice how big his hand is compared to yours. your thoughts suddenly becomes flooded with fantasties of what you want those big hands to do to you, which he notes by how your touch lingers for a couple moments extra after he lets go.

identifying what your longing for, he presses his lips against yours once more, engaging in a heated make-out while his hands wander down to unzip your jeans and tug them off, leaving you in only your underwear.

while he creeps in tongue into your mouth to make for a french, his long slender fingers rubs your labia through the fabric of your panties, amused by how wet you are already. "still think you can take it?" he basically breathes into the kiss, parting for barely a second to mutter his inquiry.

you reply with an affirmitive moan into the kiss. and just in case that wasn't clear enough, you hook your leg around his hips to give him better access.

he gladly slides the damp strip of material out of the way and sticks his two fingers into your hole, silently snickering at how you writhe at the stimulation of his fingers alone. but you can't help it; they're just so long at push against your walls in just the right way that makes your needy pussy flutter.

the wet noises from your pussy fill the changing room, shortly followed by your stifled moans — afraid other staff might be nearby to hear. his palms rubs against your throbbing clit, as his fingers shallowly thrust inside you. the minimum amount of stimulation needed to make you squim.

lev simply stares at you, enchanted by how your tight hole clings to him, and how the size of his palm compares to your pussy. it's like he could scoop you all up in one hand; hold you tenderly in his hand like a precious doll.

"sweet girl.." he idles, fingers stirring inside you, "fit me so well."

just as he says that, a hiss is drawn from you at how he harshly pulls his fingers out of your hole.

"bend over for me." he commands nicely, and without a second thought, you turn around and bend over, positioning your forearms against the changing room walls to balance you. while you do this, lev has already hooked a finger under the lace of your panties and dragged them down until they fell to your ankles.

his fingers rubbed over your labia, occasionally teasing your clit and soaking up your slick with each seductive movement. his other hand worked on aligning his cock with your glistening hole, until the bulbous tip was prodding against your enterance, at which you let out a low whine of confirmation.

however you didn't fully understand the capacity of what you were giving yourself up for until it was halfway stuffed inside you, contorting your plushing walls to accomodate his massive size and creating a slight buldge in your abdomen. truly it had knocked the wind out of you and despite him no longer being crammed down your throat, you were still choking on it.

as you writhe and mewl in attempt to cope with the intrusion, lev pauses and takes a moment to admire your figure beneath him. how you're so kindly bent over for him, and your tight cunt is struggling to accept his cock.

you were just the right size. with you bent over, he was still tall enough to place his hands on the wall above you, essentially capturing you under him. his sweet angel ready to take him all, and he couldn't help his eagerness to give you what you want.

before he knows it, his hips start to move autonomously against yours, ramming his length into sopping pussy repeatedly, making a lewd squelching noise with every sharp thrust. the volume of which made it clear to anybody nearby what was going on in this changing room, though you didn't have the power to try and silence it, as the hot arousal pooling by your pussy was the only lubricant that facilitated lev's entrance into you, and main reason it was possible for him to move within your homey walls.

his dick stabbed into you over and over, while his slender fingers drew lazy circles over your clit. you were trying your best to stay hushed in fear of being overheard, but lev didn't seem to care. he was allowing the moans, profanities and obscene exclamations to flow freely off his tongue with out a care in the world for who might hear.

"fuck, cutie, so tight." he squeezes the flesh of your ass, then lets his hand wander up so it rests on the small of your back. he's just so much bigger than you, if he wanted he could probably pick you up and fuck you at his height so he doesn't have to bend his knees so much. it's a miracle you're even able to fit him all inside that petite little pussy.

it gets him so hard so see you like this. stripped bare and trembling under him, stifled moans brewing behind your lips and legs trembling as his colossal dick thrashes against your insides. relentless and bruising your cervix with each fervish thrust. completely fucked out from being impaled by his dick, your arms have given out which levaes your cheek pressed lazily against the wall of the changing room. the cold plastic making contact with your skin, hardly enough to combat the waves of searing pleasure he sends rushing through your quivering body.

"can't take it, huh?" he leans over you, his breathy words tickling your shoulder, "too much for this little pussy? too big for my sweet girl?" mindless dirty talk spills from his mouth as his eyes squeeze shut and he basks in the warmth of your walls clamping down on him.

and he pries them open again only so he can get another look at your shaking body, struggling to take him all but persevering. and with the friction of your hole , along with the sight of your small waist held in his soft hands, it wasn't long until lev finished inside you, spilling his hefty load within the confines of your gummy walls.

his cock was pushes out in the process, which made you sigh of relief, but with his hand already positioned on your clit, he was hasty to stuff his fingers right back into your creamed pussy, causing you to gasp.

"sorry," he whispered, straightening his posture and shuffling back, "just don't want to get any on my trousers. they're designer." he chuckles to himself, meanwhile you are still bend over with his load filling your insides; fully exposed and panting.

"maybe i should've used a condom." he muses, playfully curling his fingers, resulting in an erotic moan departing from your lips.

lev laughs heartily, as though he had just cracked the funniest joke, "nah. raw's more fun." he yanks his fingers out, leaving you to feel the full force of his cum stirring within you, "who knows, maybe next time i come back here, there will a tiny version of me."

he places a final kiss to the nape of your neck before heading to pick up his shirt, "and i don't just mean tiny because of your genes."

[paintbrushnebula]

Ghostflower Headcanons

As romantic gestures, Miles loves setting up these elaborate (if a little overkill) activities for Gwen to do, whether it's a special occasion or just. whenever feels like it. They're always these elaborate treasure hunts that he'll set up for her to complete. Like for Valentine's Day--Gwen never stirs in her sleep, so he'll surround her sleeping form with lilacs and peonies all around on the bed so she can wake up basking in their scent. Then this gesture will be somehow tooled as the first clue in this elaborate scavenger hunt across several dimensions, each stop being a cute little romantic gesture like a lovely written note or souvenirs from their times together. He'll have like, puzzles that require playing music or reading scores to move forward in the hunt. And Gwen LOVES them. She likes adventures and the ones Miles orchestrates for her always involve her having to use her many talents. She kinda sees Miles' games as a sweet, fun way of staying sharp. ^_^

Miles will mindlessly rub his face against Gwen's cheek whenever when he greets her or bids her farewell after a long day. A lot of people find it a little strange lol, but know better than to judge Miles in front of Gwen. 

Ghostflower's petnames....so Miles sucks at pet names. He can't think of any good ones besides whatever he's heard his Mami say to Jeff (so just the usual "mi amor.") Mamita works for her too. But aside from that, all the typical English pet names (so like "honey," "sweetie," etc) just feel weird coming off his tongue, he thinks they're cringe and he hates saying them XD. Besides there's just something about how much he loves saying Gwen's name. He loves her name. It's like music to him. And every new time he says it makes his heart flutter more than the last. Gwen's pet names for Miles on the other hand are very... eherm...varied. Like she does use all the typical English pet names, but she'll also randomly spout some very creative names that have to do with situations they're in or objects she just saw or smth, I hope I'm explaining this right 😭 So for example, "my weighted blanket" (if they were just sleeping), or "cupcake brain," "coffee bean," "my bespeckled cheekster" or some other stupid thing she randomly comes up with on the spot XD. 

Gwen is big spoon but Miles will jump off a bridge if Hobie finds out

Lol in fact, a lot of how Gwen treats Miles (fluffy pet names, cuddling him) is stuff Miles never wants Hobie to see XD. So picture Miles melting into Gwen on the couch while she runs fingers through his hair, then Hobie walks in and Miles flings himself right out of Gwen's arms, sitting up straight and clearing his throat, "aherm, wh-whassup' man." And like, Hobie probably wouldn't even give a dang XD. But Miles feels the need to keep up this... intimidating "not some feeble gumdrop" reputation around certain spiders like Hobie, Miguel, and now Peter B, etc.

Gwen hates the heat, she always has to have the AC on or at least a fan in front of her. Sometimes both. But Miles is very sensitive to the cold. So this becomes a dilemma when they're in the same room. Then it breaks out into a back and forth "no it's okay, I can turn it off/No it's okay! I can just put on a jacket!" Eventually they'll reach a compromise: Gwen can have the AC, but she has to cuddle Miles close so he can keep warm. 

Miles likes to paint or draw on Gwen a LOT. Like it basically becomes the norm Gwen's their friends and family to see her walking around with what appears to be temporary "tattoos." Sometimes there'll be "Miles x Gwen" in graffiti-styled lettering on her shoulder, or little spider-man chibis with little speech bubbles, or a jumble of illustrations of places they've been to, lyrics from songs he likes, and just colorful geometry painted all around her arm like a tattoo sleeve, or sunflowers on her cheeks, or just random lines and shapes here and there on her knuckles, arms or jawline. Miles will paint on her whenever he has the chance, whether she's in conversation with a completely different person, or she's doing work, writing, eating-anything. She always lets him, she loves it. And when they're alone and he's drawing on her, they'll sit in a comfortable silence the whole time, it's very...entrancing for Gwen when they're alone in a quiet room and he's hardly making any noise while she feels markers and paintbrushes dancing across her skin. 

[goldfades]

👒 trevor zegras realizing that his new gf is nothing compared to what you were

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 | tz¹¹

♡ ─ word count | 937

♡ ─ warnings | so much angst, idek what i was on (this week was terrible, okay?) drunk!trevor, comparing y/n and new gf and just overall angst.

♡ ─ ev's notes | god angsty trev content makes me so miserable LOL, i this doesn't ruin ur night

Trevor sighed as he stumbled into his home, shutting the door after him. His eyes were red and his clothes smelled like alcohol once again, he wasn't sure the last time he hadn't went drinking. As he walked through his vacant home, his heart felt empty. He felt weak and numb at the same time, he didn't really understand what had happened the last three months.

He found his bedroom door and drunkenly stumbled in the room, falling onto the bed wearily. His mind somehow wandered off to you once again and he felt the pain seep into his heart once again. You and Trevor had been broken up for almost six months now but he still thought of you every single day without a doubt, even with his new girlfriend.

You were his first everything - his first kiss and his first love and he thought that you were gonna be last, as well. However, things didn't go his way. Somewhere along the line, Trevor became everything he was afraid of and eventually, you had left; the one thing who was stable in his life.

As Trevor lay there, staring at the ceiling, the old memories flooded his mind. He couldn't shake the image of your face, the way you used to smile at him, the warmth of your embrace that now felt like a distant dream, something he couldn't believe. But now, he was slowly beginning to forgot the sound of your sweet voice and the way you used to laugh. He closed his eyes, willing himself to hold onto those memories just a little while longer, afraid that once they were gone, there would be nothing left of you.

His new girlfriend was nothing more than a temporary distraction, a feeble attempt to fill the void you had left behind. She didn't understand him like you did, didn't see the broken pieces he tried so hard to hide from the world. Sure, she looked like you but she was nothing like how you were.

She didn't understand his sarcasm or his jokes. She didn't laugh the way you did, she didn't talk like you did and she could never compare to you - she wasn't even in the same league. In her presence, Trevor felt more alone than ever, more aware of the gap that separated him from the happiness he once had known. He longed for the comfort of your embrace and the sound of your voice whispering reassurances in his ear, but she could never provide that comfort.

He couldn't escape the truth – she was a placeholder, a temporary fix to numb the pain of his heartbreak. Each moment spent with her only served as a reminder of what he had lost: the intimacy, the connection and the comfort that came effortlessly with you were now replaced with a mere attempt at a "relationship." Your absence had left a void that no one else could ever fill, and this new relationship felt like a desperate attempt to grasp at something familiar. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, Trevor knew that she could never compare to you. You were in a league of your own, a rare gem in a world of imitations, and he had let you slip through his fingers without fully realizing how special you truly were.

You were there for him when no one was. When no one had believed in him, you believed in him, telling him he was worthy of his dreams. You stood by Trevor's side through the darkest of times, your unwavering faith in him was the reason he had achieved his dreams. You were his rock, through everything. Your belief in him had breathed life into his heart, igniting a fire within him to pursue his dreams with determination. You saw the potential within him, the raw talent waiting to be unleashed and you refused to let him settle for anything less than his best. But somewhere along the way, he had lost sight of what truly mattered, had let his own insecurities and fears cloud his judgment. He had taken your love for granted, he knew that now. He just wished you didn't hated him with all your might, but could he blame you?

He had shattered your trust, broken your heart, left you to pick up the pieces on your own and embarrassed you. He had torn down the walls you had worked so hard to build around your heart, leaving you vulnerable. He fucked up so bad, he began hating himself too.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[hey-i-am-trying]

hi, tripoier here! Long text incoming alert and a detailed explanation of the situation for qsmpblr (also sorry if I make some typos I'm writing without translator)

Yeah I also saw what happened today with the og admin of Pepito and I have a lot to say about it. First of all I'm not speaking in behalf of the community but I'm my own experience of the situation. I watched the development of Pepito's story since day one and fell in love with that little guy (and his laggy PC). Then second day arrived and I noticed the admin change bc he was less laggy and I've learned enough Portuguese and 07's (Richas admin) mannerisms to recognize when he's playing a character, even Roier noticed but didn't say anything until the screencap incident lol

Few day passed and 07 created such a cute and wholesome personality for Pepito, that contrasted very well with the role that roier was having at the moment— that it's understandable that it may not be too comfortable for some people but for the ones that had been watching Roier's story in the server + his relationship with Bobby, we take it with humor/hope for him to heal slowly after what happened in Purgatory and with Bobby (and believe me, Bobby had a HUGE impact on how Roier behaved with the rest of he eggs after his death)

So during the days 07 played as Pepito all the tripoiers were in this state of hope because we knew how much q!Roier was trying hard to not to get attached to Pepito, he knew the moment something happens to him he was gonna suffer A LOT, and Pepito was this pure, innocent ray of sunshine that it was imposible for us not to love immediately (Roier also did from day one but he loved to play with us + his lore at the moment was being in depression for the lost of his husband and having Richas and Leo in their comatose state). Also, is worth to mention that after he discovered it was 07 the one playing as Pepito he became more playful and started to tease him just to make him go out of role (and succeeded one time). Which is why he used the chancla a lot with him, as a shield for the feelings that were starting to grow on him again.

Then, Otipep happened.

This is the part I'm gonna be more careful to explain bc there is a language barrier that for the people who don't have Spanish as their first language they cannot understand or got confused

When Otipep appeared Roier noticed that it was another admin playing as Pepito because 07 was busy helping with Q's lore, we don't know if he recognized immediately that it was the original one or just a random temporary admin, but he noticed that this Pepito appeared where the fist one disconnected (in the garden outside of his house). Some people noticed that it was the original one and got happy bc it meaned that finally Pepito had his permanently admin back and bc Richas and the others eggs were also back from the coma we could see them both at the same time (roier used to joke about it every time 07 was around)

We also thought that the og admin had been catching up with the role that 07 has built so far with Pepito (which was not, and we would never know if it was either miscommunication between the admins or the og admin just decided to ignore the actual role to keep their 'idea' for the role), so at first we were a little bit shocked when this Pepito started acting so "dry" (idk if this is the correct word) with Roier, bc we had already gotten used to Pepito's tender way of speaking, but we just let that pass for a bit.

But then that "dry" behavior started going to go down a path were even we as an audience started getting uncomfortable, because roier was trying to socialize with the admin but they clearly didn't knew what's has been going on these past days, so Roier take the time to make a summary of the last days with his typical chill humor, and while he was doing that everything reached its final point with the sign "hueles a culo también hijo de puta" = you also smell like ass son of a bitch.

now This. THIS right here is what destroyed everything. Because you would say "oh, it's just Pepito following Roier's game, it's was in a playful way".

No.

It. was. not.

When Roier starts calling someone with some swears or related words is always in a playful way, and there is context and trust behind. When Otipep put that sign Roier was making a summary of the role that 07 has been doing with Pepito, bc he didn't wanted to let them behind, and while doing that he always explain with his usual humor to make it less unconformable for the admin/ entertained for his audience.

So when he placed that sign we all get out of the loop because it came from nowhere, even Roier kept silence of a few second because 1). it sounded rude, that sign was so out of place 2). Roier was explaining the last few days to the admin so he can keep up with the role, he was not "joking" with the admin, or moving on to another topic, he was helping the admin. 3). We, as an audience, felt so shocked because they weren't saying that to Roier in a playful way, they were giving weight to those words. And this is the part that people that do not have Spanish as their first language doesn't understand. They gave weight to the insult. They didn't wrote that as a joke, they directly INSULTED the streamer.

Then roier proceeded to hit him with the chancla bc he wanted to take the control back of the situation in a humorous way, a damage control in other words, because the chat was filling with "??????" And people getting offended and angry (justified, even I felt offended) with the admin, but Roier is not of those type of persons and he always try to make his streams a safe place for his community, so if you ask me he did a really well job handling the situation even tho he felt offended and his audience noticed that for the rest of the stream (hell, even days later)

And if that was not enough, Roier kept trying to save the situation but the admin was not cooperating, with the "no he preguntado"= I've not asked you and other sign that I just don't remember and is not really worth it (and bc Otipep literally left Roier speaking alone with the "I'm going to look for better parents" and went to spawn zone), he just gave up trying and waited for Richas to come back (which was also chocked w the situation)

And this is me speaking from a non-neutral tone, but I think we could've had a Roier being super loving and caring with Pepito if this situation didn't happen in the first place, bc after this I noticed that Roier stopped tried to get close to Pepito, the situation really affected him so whatever role he was building with the character he just simply stopped and changed the dynamic with another one more limited and less parental, but keeping his usual humor bc it was not the fault of the actual admin or 07, it is what it is unfortunately.

That's why I'm so glad that the actual admin and Ricardão did such a good job saving Pepito because the Spanish speaking community was about to drop him, even streamers friends of Roier that are not part of the qsmp acknowledge the behavior of Otipep with Roier (if that doesn't say a lot about how complicated it was on this side of the road)

And even after all these things there was people out there calling the Spanish speaking community as dramatic or harassing Roier when the situation happened (and it seems they still do it :/ ), but most of us kept quiet because we respect Roier and as he says, mejor pasamos de movidas.

and well, this is it, I know I'm missing some points in the story but honestly getting into fights or hate in general is not my thing, I wanted to give some context for the people of Tumblr because I know, at least here people take the time to read and are more chill unlike twt, and I hope I gave some clarification for the rest of the communities that are not native in Spanish, I really really love Pepito and I'm so glad we had 07 and the actual admin there to play this character, I still can't believe that person had the audacity to come out proudly as Pepito's 1st admin when literally no one from the Spanish community considers his 2 appereances as canon after their blunder xd

Thank you for sharing!

I understand that some stuff are hard to translate, thank you for taking the time. I didn't know that your community was being called dramatic because of that! That is dumb as hell and I am sorry it happend in the first place.

Of course we are no in business of spreading hate. I have always tried to see the other side of situations, I think from what I read in the admin's doc they had some kinda of vision for the character, but I guess they didn't realized that well, they were not going to become automaticly friends with Roier and have room to "joke" like that just because they have become an egg admin. Probably my best guest of what it happend.

It is really weird, maybe they were banking on the support that the other admins have gotten? Or they actually never realized how insulting they have come out as.

Well, I don't have much to say, except I am sorry it happend at all with Roier and the hispanic community.

[ju-vondy]

Into Jason's mind (Headcanon scene)

So, after the release of EP 4 I couldn't stop wondering the reason Jason prefer not commit to a long-term relationship and how he would react when he realize Candy was breaking that barriers down... So I wrote this for the chap. 20+- in my fic and I just HAD to share with you all. I didn't post the fanfic yet once I'm still waiting AO3 invite me LOL. But here you go, I hope you enjoy it:

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Jason was sitting on the sofa in his luxurious apartment, the dim light from the modern lamps casting soft shadows on the walls. He held a glass of whiskey, slowly swirling the amber liquid, lost in his thoughts. The night was silent, interrupted only by the occasional sound of distant traffic.

He glanced at the clock on the wall: 2:45 a.m. Sleep was something that had been eluding him lately, especially with Candy dominating his thoughts.

Jason ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. The goals, contracts and meetings that once occupied his mind so easily now seemed insignificant. His mind wandered incessantly to Candy, to her smiles, her expressions of determination, and even to the moments of vulnerability that she rarely let show.

Looking around, he realized how his personal space was carefully designed to reflect success and control. However, the emotional emptiness remained unchanged.

Jason picked up his phone and, on an impulse, opened Instagram. He looked at his recent posts: several photos of him at social events, with different women by his side. He recalled Thomas's words that he had overheard while the Devenementiel team gathered at the Cosy Bear Café: "Jason is a womanizer…" “He doesn’t seem to commit to his relationships…”

That was true. But why?

Releasing a deep sigh, he leaned back further on the sofa, closing his eyes. His mind drifted back in time, reliving memories of past relationships. Then he remembered the first time he decided not to commit: He was young, ambitious, and... In love with an older woman who had promised to be his partner in life and in business. But she betrayed him, both emotionally and professionally, ruining not just his heart but also an important business transaction.

After that, Jason vowed never to let anyone get that close again. Long-term commitments brought risks he couldn’t afford. He built a life where control and independence were paramount, and where women were only temporary distractions, never real threats to his heart or business.

Moreover, he didn’t have time to dedicate to a partner. His work consumed every second of his day, leaving little room for anything else. And children? The idea of being a father was a responsibility he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, assume. Kids are absurdly expensive and need time, patience—things he couldn’t offer in the phase of life he was in.

Jason also couldn’t ignore the fact that most of the women he met were shallow. They played hard to get, but as soon as he showed some sign of value, some symbol of status, they yielded instantly. Candy, however, was different. Candy never yielded. She challenged him and… That intrigued and attracted him in a way he couldn’t ignore.

She disarmed him with her intelligence, her strength, and paradoxically, with her vulnerability. He remembered how he felt when he saw her wearing glasses for the first time, how that unexpected sight affected him more than it should have. Jason stood up and walked to the window, looking at the illuminated city below. The view was something that always calmed him, but today, even that couldn’t soothe the restlessness within him. Candy’s presence in his life was starting to make him question his decisions.

What was most frightening wasn’t the desire he felt for her, but the fact that he wanted more than just a fleeting affair. He wanted to know her better, wanted to be by her side, wanted to hear her bad jokes, wanted… Commitment.

“Why does she affect me so much?” he murmured to himself, his thoughts returning to the last time he saw her.

They had met at the tennis club last weekend. He still remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw her with sunglasses and a hat, an unexpected and incredibly attractive sight. And then, during the match, the moment they bumped into each other and he offered his hand to help her up. The connection he felt at that moment still haunted him.

In fact, all the other moments haunted him. Even though he had shared a bed with several women in recent months, it was always Candy he found himself thinking about. The first time he kissed her in the garden, that night when the explosion finally happened and they released all the tension between them as their naked bodies engaged in heady movements. And then, at the Snake Room, the electricity between them was almost unbearable. The heat and urgency of that moment still made him shudder.

At the opera, the tension between them was so palpable that he could barely focus on the performance. And later that night in his apartment… their bodies fitting perfectly, the way she knew how to touch him in ways he didn't even know he needed. Every encounter with her was a whirlwind of emotions and sensations.

Jason closed his eyes, remembering the conversation with his mother he had earlier.

Since the moment their families reunited again she encouraged him to bring Candy closer, seeing something he tried to ignore. He accepted the mayor's proposal for a partnership with Devenementiel not only for strategy but also to keep Candy close. At first, he told himself it was to destabilize the competing company. But now, the truth was becoming increasingly clear: he wanted Candy by his side for much more personal reasons.

Jason walked to the desk in his bedroom, opening the drawer and taking out a small wooden box. Inside, there was a ring he had bought years ago, intended for a proposal that never happened. A reminder of his failures and fears.

“Candy…” he murmured, closing the box and putting it back in the drawer.

He needed to admit to himself that all this had started as a game. He wanted Candy to accept his job offer to screw up over Devenementiel again, but in the process, he ended up getting lost. She was not just a pawn in his corporate game anymore; she was someone who made his life more complete, more vibrant and his days became easier when she was around. She was someone he didn’t want to lose.

And he hated to admit it.

Jason stood up again, taking the glass of whiskey and heading to the terrace. The cool night air enveloped him, bringing a momentary sense of clarity. He looked at the stars, remembering how his life seemed simpler before Candy entered it. But now, he couldn’t imagine going back to that simplicity.

He knew he was at a turning point. Continuing with his usual behavior meant losing the chance at something real, something he hadn’t felt since… well, since forever. But opening up meant exposing himself again to pain, to risk, to vulnerability.

Jason took a long sip of the whiskey, feeling the warmth descend his throat. He needed a new approach, a new way of thinking. Maybe, just maybe, Candy was worth the risk. Maybe she was different. He just needed the courage to find out. Because, in the end, he was falling for her. And that was the truth he could no longer deny.

This realization hit him hard.

“Damn, Candy,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. “What have you done to me?”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

PLEASE DO NOT POST IT ON OTHER PLATFORMS without giving credits! This is all my original writing and I would hate to see anyone use it without my permission. Thank u <3

[hxxsxxng]

SUNGHOON 박성훈 - SOULS BONDED

Word Count : 2k

Genre : Angst

Content : mentions of death, mentions of being orphaned, unrequited romantic feelings, childhood trauma reguarding lack of parental figure and poverty

Preview : When you are hanging out with your best friend, you realize you crave something you could never have

Authors note : I feel like I am becoming a dictionary because I am trying to produce higher quality work. lol enjoy!

SUPPORT BY REBLOGGING if you want

You glance over at Sunghoon sitting across from you at the dingy café table. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he sips his cup of coffee. You know that crease in his forehead all too well - it means his mind is drowning in the turbulent waters of the past again.

Sunghoon had confided in you about his childhood not long after your own paths converged. The two of you were kindred spirits, orphans with none but each other to cling to. While you lost your father at a tender age, Sunghoon never knew his parents at all, thrown from one fostering situation to another until finally aging out of the system.

In those fragile early days, you marveled at how Sunghoon's eyes would become inscrutable pools when he spoke of his upbringing. Never dwelling on specifics, but the hurt and confusion were palpable underneath his steely exterior. You recognized that look because it was the same one you saw in the mirror after your dad passed - the look of someone who had the ground torn violently out from beneath them too soon.

That shared brokenness was the tether that bound your souls. An unspoken language of deprivation and loneliness that became the basis for your bond. No matter how dire your circumstances became, you vowed to always be there for Sunghoon and not let him freefall back into that void of isolation.

But over time, that vow mutated into something more complicated. Something that kept you awake at night, tossing and turning with tangled sheets and an aching emptiness. The more you learned about Sunghoon's quiet strength, his dry humor, his latent brilliance left to wither on the vine...the more your feelings started drifting into uncharted waters.

You trace the sharp lines of Sunghoon's profile with hungry eyes. The elegant slope of his nose, the strands of night-black hair falling across his eyes, the sculptural cut of his jawline that could have been chiseled from marble. Naturally, your gaze drops to the full pout of his lips, and you feel a lush, insistent ache deep in your belly. The painful throb of yearning for something - someone - so achingly close yet impossibly out of reach.

Get a grip, you growl at yourself, shaking your head minutely. Sunghoon is your friend. He's already been through so much in this life. The last thing he needs is the weight of your burgeoning feelings muddying up what little hope he's found.

But you can't help replaying all of the late nights you've spent side-by-side, putting the shattered pieces of your lives back together through hushed conversations and shared laughter over future dreams. How his obsidian eyes would glitter at your jokes as your shoulders brushed, sending tingles racing across your skin. The way his calloused hand would linger over yours during rare instances of contact, raising goosebumps along the surface like an electric brand.

You've tried so hard to rationalize your feelings away as temporary insanity. As the inevitable yearning to find intimacy in the one person who truly sees you for who you are - the lost girl grasping just as desperately for belonging, already torn to shreds by the all-consuming need blazing through your veins.

Sunghoon's lashes sweep upwards, his penetrating gaze catching your fixated stare. You startle slightly, blood rushing quickly to your cheeks at being so transparently caught in your staring. He arches an inquisitive eyebrow and you hastily shake your head, worrying your bottom lip in an attempt to regain composure.

"Sorry, I was just...lost in thought," you mumble with an unconvincing laugh, trying in vain to ignore the thump of your pulse drumming in your ears.

Sunghoon holds your gaze for a heavy moment, his stare stripping away every flimsy barrier you've tried to build. The ghost of a smirk plays at the corners of those tantalizing lips. "I could tell. You get this look...like the whole cosmos is swirling around behind your eyes."

You snort softly at his turn of phrase, finally allowing your features to relax into a crooked smile. An attempt to retake control and deflect from the storm ravaging you from the inside out. "Pretty sure it's just the usual jumbled mess bouncing around my skull."

"Well, whatever it is..." Sunghoon murmurs, leaning forward slightly with uncharacteristic earnestness. His eyes search yours with an arresting intensity that has your breath catching in your throat. "I hope you know you can talk to me about anything. Anytime. You're..." He pauses, adam's apple bobbing, "You're the only real family I've got."

Your throat constricts at his simple yet loaded admission. For all of Sunghoon's projected nonchalance, his vulnerability was one of his most disarming qualities. He didn't let just anyone see beneath the armor.

The urge to reach across the table and pull him into a hug is overwhelming. To pour every ounce of your heart's desires into the union of your bodies and souls. But you swallow that reckless impulse, nodding mutely.

"I know," you rasp, fingers straying unconsciously across the tabletop until they're covering his hand. Ignoring the lump in your chest at the searing brand of flesh on flesh. "And you're mine too, Sunghoon. Wherever this crazy life takes us...I'll always be on your side. I'm not going anywhere."

A kaleidoscope of emotions flicker across Sunghoon's features - gratitude and something deeper, more visceral that you dare not put a name to for fear of shattering the delicate tension covering you both. He turns his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours in a way that has your breath hitching.

In that single gesture, your vision blurs with a maelstrom of feeling. You realize with a bone-deep ache that even if Sunghoon doesn't reciprocate this all-consuming need scorching through your veins...this bond alone is more meaningful than anything you could have ever dared dream for yourself. Two souls who found sanctuary in each other's light, refusing to let it be extinguished by the gales of the past.

And maybe...just maybe...there's still a flicker of that same fire reflected in Sunghoon's gaze. A spark flickering tantalizingly behind his eyes that could one day ignite into a cataclysmic firestorm if you let the air rush in. But for now, you'll embrace this steady glow of affinity and belonging, letting it envelop you like the first warm rays of dawn after an endless night of darkness.

No matter what the future may bring, you'll bear this burden, letting it burn through your very marrow as proof of life's persisting beauty in the ashes. Both of you have wandered in shadow for far too long. It's time to let this bond guide you, however fraught with longing, into the searing light of grace.

You give Sunghoon's hand a firm, resolute squeeze. Steadying yourself against the current of want threatening to sweep you away into uncharted depths. With a smile, you hold his stare.

"I'm never letting you go, Sunghoon. We've got each other. That's what matters most."

[heesdreamer]

SILENCED (4)

MASTERLIST

GENRE ➩ enhypen zombie apocalypse au!

SUMMARY ➩ navigating life 1 year post end of the world was already difficult as you avoided rotting corpses with hefty appetites and groups with various bad intentions. things get harder when you run into a group of survivors, 7 boys who make it impossible to run away.

WC ➩ 6k

WARNINGS ➩ death gore blood um zombies and everything the apocalypse brings…

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Hello, me again lol Sorry it’s been so long since the last update on this I’ve had other stuff I was prioritizing but thank you to the people following and enjoying this story! The updates are a lot smaller than my usual works and that bugs me a bit but I have a lot planned and it won’t be such a long gap between each chapter from now on lol. Reminder to check out the playlist for hints and general vibe! NOT PROOFREAD but u knew that

“What are you even talking about dude, I beat you five to one easy. It wasn’t even close.” Jake’s voice was laughing out as he rested back on the couch, swinging an arm forward in emphasis towards his friend.

“No you don’t get it, if we had a rematch I’d whoop you.” Jay was quick to respond, a gloomy look on his face from losing so terribly and the younger boys broke into a fit of giggles at his attitude.

The day had been quiet, picking up each other from school one by one and heading back to Jake’s place. His mom had been out of town for the month on a business trip and it’d become their official club house for the time being, messier than it should’ve been with blankets covering any surface that could serve as a temporary bed.

Heeseung was pushing through the front door with a strange expression on his face, glancing behind in the hallway before locking the deadbolt and peaking out of the peephole. Sweat was coating his face and the other boys stopped laughing as they looked at him.

“It’s that bad out there now?” Jungwon was asking in a soft voice and Heeseung jumped a bit before glancing at him and giving him a solid nod.

News stations had been buzzing for weeks but nobody paid too close of attention outside of the people with particularly raging anxiety. Reports of cannibalisms, first in America and then the neighboring countries.

The boys hadn’t thought much of it, some crazy new drug that would never make it this far or mass hysteria. Then it was announced that it was a disease, something that couldn’t be helped and borders could not stop and things started to get a bit more wary. Some stores were shutting down, families leaving to their summer houses out in the country and yesterday Jay had been cut from work early.

“I don’t know, I don’t think we can wait anymore.” Heeseung was muttering and Jake sat up on the couch, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.

“You mean like leave? Where would we even go?” He was asking and his question made them all fall silent, knowing he was right and they didn’t have a safe haven to disappear to like others did. They all had families but they weren’t extremely close now that they were older, spending most of their time together and only coming home to get scolded for poor grades.

Heeseung was shaking his head and turning towards them fully to scan the room, freezing up slightly when his head count came up one short. “Where’s Riki?”

“He.. had that exam I think. Must’ve had to stay late.” Sunoo was saying it slowly to try and explain but a feeling of dread settled over everybody at the realization he was out there alone, not yet realizing how quickly things were falling apart.

“Is it really that bad Heeseung?” Jay was asking in confusion, just yesterday they all were walking around casually outside of the few religious nut jobs screaming about the end of days.

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a long time, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to relay what he had saw or if he just wanted to let them think things were okay for a few minutes longer. He knew he had witnessed stuff that wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon, stuff that would change how they lived from now on and he wasn’t sure he was ready to fully embrace that.

He was clearing his throat to speak but the words fell short and he made his way over to the kitchen counter instead, taking Jungwon’s moms keys and glancing at him for permission.

The younger boy looked confused but he gave him a small nod, eyes widening a touch when the oldest hesitated before going back into the kitchen and returning with the largest cooking knife available.

“Woah, you can’t go out there with that. You’ll get arrested dude.” Sunghoon was rushing out, suddenly paying attention and alert now as he sat up off the couch and raised his hands towards Heeseung.

“I don’t think there’s anybody left to arrest me.” He was spitting out but he wasn’t angry at his friends, just stricken with fear and anxiety at the thought of returning back outside but he couldn’t stand the idea of Riki being out there alone.

“Well I’ll come with you.” Jay was announcing and standing up, wiping off the chip crumbs from his sweater. Heeseung almost denied him and demanded he stayed here and kept the doors locked but he figured he might not be able to make it alone and Jay was definitely the most capable of the two of them, strong and sturdy despite his carefree personality.

“The rest of you need to stay put. I don’t care what you hear, or how long it takes for us to come back, you can’t open that door.” He was warning the group and they all paused in fearful hesitance before slowly nodding, the idea of not searching for their friends after a period of time leaving them unsettled.

The two eldest were making their way out of the apartment building, stopping at the entry door to push a vending machine in front of it. Jay looked confused when Heeseung asked him to do it but he followed suit anyways, not wanting to deny the orders considering the fear in his friends face.

Jungwon’s moms van was large and loud, rattling when you pressed too hard on the gas pedal and squealing every time it forced its large frame to a stop. They didn’t drive it often, outside of trips to the beach and going through drive thru’s, and Heeseung was grateful that the roads were uncharacteristically empty as he amateurly made his way through the city streets.

It was complete silent as they pulled up to their youngest friends school, both holding their breath as they leaned forward to see out of the driver side window and try to catch sight of any sign of life.

Heeseung’s heart was throbbing and he felt sick, almost too scared to go and find the boy in case he saw something he wasn’t able to ever forget, something he wouldn’t be able to move past. Jay’s hand was reaching forward to take his arm and he glanced at the other boy, seeing him give him a firm nod with a look of determination. Heeseung gave him a weary smile in return but it was the boost of strength he needed to open the door.

There was debris around the area from the days of mild chaos leading up to this and Jay bent down to grab a particularly long piece of metal, steadying it in front of him like a baseball bat as they got closer to the school doors.

They were unlocked and they quickly realized something was wrong judging by the papers scattered along the hallway, backpack’s abandoned in classrooms like they had to evacuate fast and Heeseung could smell something foul that caused his nose to turn up in disgust.

“Riki.” It was a yelled whisper echoing through the halls, carrying the noise all the way down the silent building until it was reaching the end and bouncing back towards them.

“Hyung? Is that you?” A scared voice was coming from the end of the hallway, shaky and muffled like he was hidden behind something and the two older boys let out a sigh of relief at the confirmation that he was at least okay enough to respond.

They were swift in their approach towards the room the voice had come from, forgetting to be cautious because of their relief and rush to get out of there but they quickly froze when a figure was coming out of one of the classrooms in the middle of the hallway.

Heeseung automatically recognized the signs of the creatures he had seen earlier, staring at the man who was staggering into the hall and turning towards them with his nose in the air. His eyes were yellow and vacant and he had dark liquid around his mouth, still moving his jaw like he was finishing a large meal. The man groaned loudly in their direction, bordering on a screech and the boys could do nothing but stare.

“What the fuck?” Jay was rushing out in an anxious tone, glancing over to his friend who was remaining still and watching it carefully. “Dude what’s wrong with him, what the fuck?”

“He’s got it.” Heeseung was stating matter of factly and Jay paled at the realization, shaking his head in disbelief and faltering backwards a few steps.

Heeseung was approaching the creature slowly and they both jumped when it reared its head and roared in agitation, sloppily approaching them and not faltering even when it almost slipped and crashed into the floor. They watched it approached speedily and when it got near they both circled around it’s back, confusing it momentarily but not long enough before it was attacking again.

The creature pinned Heeseung back against the wall, his hands flailing in front of him as he tried his hardest to shove it away with cries and groans of fear. It’s strength was double what a normal man’s would be and he was seconds from giving up when it was slumping to the ground.

Heeseung dropped off the wall and scrambled over to Jay who was panting with the piece of scrap metal in front of him, dripping thick syrupy blood now that he had smashed it into the figure.

They both watched in horror, attempting to catch their breath, as it begun to rise off the floor again. Shakily standing back to its full height and snarling again at them, seemingly angrier now.

“Oh you’ve gotta be shitting me.” Heeseung was panting out as he stared up at its cracked skull, half of its face sliding downwards and a bloodied mess from the force of Jay’s swing mixed with days of decay.

Both boys watched it as it started to approach again and then Jay was letting out a loud scream, taking a few steps forward and swinging the metal back down on its shoulder. They both froze in anticipation and then fear when the creature didn’t react to the hit at all.

“Oh what the fu-“ He was cut off as the creature swung at him and he dove out of the way with a grunt. “How do you kill this thing?”

“Why the fuck would I know?” Heeseung was screaming back in bewilderment, glancing around in confusion to try and find a way out of the situation but coming up with nothing as he turned back to keep his attention on the man who kept getting more and more unhinged the louder they avoided him and his gaping mouth.

The creature wasn’t getting winded whilst the boys were barely managing to swing their arms anymore, using this to its advantage and catching Jay off guard. Heeseung watched in horror as it pinned his friend to the hallway floor, listening to his screams of terror and gasp of air from under its heavy frame.

He didn’t think twice before he was rushing forward, and throwing the entirety of his weight into its body. He let out a guttural scream and pulled his arm back as far as it could go before driving the knife forward into its softened skull. Jay was, thankfully, getting the memo and rolling out of the way before the creature slammed onto the floor, now fully lifeless.

Both boys collapsed to the floor in fits of gasps and pants. Nobody spoke for a few minutes from shock and then Jay’s tired voice was ringing out. “Dude… you just totally saved my life.”

It was silent again for a few seconds before Heeseung was letting out a soft chuckle, launching the other into a fit of delirious laughter until they were both cracking up with the body in between them.

“Holy shit.” Both boys were pausing at the sound of Riki’s voice, a lot closer now as he pushed his way out of the classroom and was watching them from the end of the hallway. “You guys totally killed Mr. Kim.”

“And then what?” Your voice was completely enthralled as you spoke, leaning forward towards the campfire so your elbows were on your knees and you thought you saw Jake’s lips curl up from the corner of your eye.

“Well… we went back to get the others. We tried to get to family but..” Jay was trailing off but you nodded in understanding and he gave you a grateful look before sighing and continuing with his story. “Heeseung found a map in the pocket of a dead guy on the highway out of the city and he had circled the general area that you found us in, so we assumed it was safe.”

“And it was.” Jake was adding and it was some of his first words of the night, having remained mostly silent and to himself throughout your trip.

It had been two days since you left and you knew everybody was feeling unsettled by the fact you were heading back home now to the unknown. It was a mostly uneventful journey, not stopping much or sleeping more than a few hours with a shared determination to get there and back as soon as humanly possible.

You felt like the universe had cut you a break when you arrived to the veterinary hospital Jungwon had seen on the map, only encountering a handful of walkers and finding some medicine that should do the trick fairly quickly. But you knew the universe wasn’t kind nor was she fond of handing out breaks so your stomach clenched with the idea of what could be waiting for you back at the camp.

Sunghoon could’ve died from blood loss and infection and passed along the traumatizing act of putting him down before he turned, or he could’ve turned in the night and taken out a few of his brothers before anybody was awake enough to put a stop to it.

You knew the two boys with you were thinking similar things so you’d ask for a story to try and keep their minds off of it, listening to Jay carefully as he recounted the first time they’d killed a walker and how happy Riki was that it was his mean teacher that often stuck him in detention.

“Heeseung was our leader before he was ever our leader.” Jay was remarking as he finished his story, scooting down more into the dirt so his back was fully pressed against the rotted log he was resting on.

Jake hummed in agreement and you didn’t say anything, thinking about the statement and the conversation you’d had with the eldest boy about the weight of his responsibilities. You felt a longing for him suddenly, missing him and the others more than you thought you would and you could tell the two with you were thinking the same thing now that it was falling silent again.

You didn’t say anything as you were standing up to stomp out the fire, knowing it was already a risk to strike it up in the first place but especially to sleep with it roaring.

The three of you followed the same routine as the past two nights, stringing up cans in a circle around where you were sleeping so if anything, dead or alive, bumped into it you’d have some form of warning before it was coming down directly on top of you. You laid your head down in the pile of leaves and tried to ignore the sticks sitting uncomfortably under your shoulder blades, falling asleep to the sounds of the forest and the two boys breathing.

——

You’d been walking for a few hours before seeing anything familiar but your body was alert to the fact you were getting closer to the camp again, this time with a backpack full of supplies and a prayer in the back of your mind that things would be okay.

It didn’t take long for you to realize something was off about your surroundings, the woods unusually silent and resting like all the animals and trees were holding their breath. You raised your hand and folded it, a silent signal for the boys to stop walking and fall into a crouched position behind you.

Your eyes were hurriedly scanning over the forest floor and your heart sank when you noticed multiple pairs of tracks and footprints that wouldn’t have been from your group, having no reason to venture this far out. You waved Jake and Jay closer and they quickly shifted forward in their crouched position.

“Is it a hoard?��� Jake was whispering to you when you pointed out the shoe prints in the mud, glancing at you with a worried expression. Jay’s eyes were dark with concern and his face was hard, glancing in the direction of the others and frowning.

“I don’t think so.” You were shaking your head and sighing softly as you trailed your finger around the indented mud to explain to them. “The steps are too direct and pointed, if it was walkers they’d be messy and all over the place.”

“So it’s people then.” Jay was saying matter of factly and you all feel into a heavy silence, knowing you had no choice but to continue on the path back home, regardless if there was anybody left waiting for you or not.

You didn’t bother wasting anytime, falling into fast and silent footsteps and you maneuvered your way through the woods, guns drawn and knives out of your holster in case any of the people were still around and surveilling the surrounding woods.

Jay caught sight of something long before you did and you were grateful for his hand that shot out to stop you from rushing right into the view of the man you could now see, pacing back and forth in the center of the little houses and keeping an eye out for anything out of place.

You lip curled up in a sneer but you weren’t exactly sure what to do. If it was up to you, you’d simply take him out from a distance but you didn’t know how many were inside with the boys and if any more were not here, not wanting to risk the safety of the others or the three of you by acting on impulse. Jake seemed to be thinking something similar considering he was tapping your shoulder to get your attention, indicating down to your knives after you looked at him.

You understood what he was implying but you stared at him for a few seconds to make sure he was certain, realizing you hadn’t yet discussed the groups morals when it came to the living.

His eyes were hard as he gave you a solid nod and he mouthed for Jay to have your back as you moved in silent towards the patrol. The man didn’t have time to react before you were behind him, listening to the sound of Jay whistle and bring his attention forward before you were wrapping your hand around his forehead and tilting his head back so his neck was fully exposed to you.

He let out a gurgled shout as you slid your knife across his throat, grunting softly under his weight as you tried to lower him to the ground as silently as possible.

You looked up at Jay after he was on the ground, watching him carefully as he gave you a small nod of acceptance and you sighed softly before returning it to him and waiting for Jake to come out of the woods and meet you. The three of you ducked against one of the houses, your backs pressed against the wood as you listened to try and get a guess of how many people were inside.

“I say we just kill him already.” It was a woman’s voice and she was speaking in a nasty rasp like she was a heavy smoker, your heart pounding at the sentence she spoke. “He’s half dead already, I’ll be pissed if he turns on us and takes a chunk out of my arm.”

You glanced at Jake after she was done speaking and he was already looking at you, both of you relieved to hear that she was talking about Sunghoon still being alive, immediately followed by the dread of what she was implying they should do.

“Touch him and you’ll have bigger problems than him turning.” Heeseung’s voice was speaking now and it was dropped to an octave you’d never heard it in before, cold and serious and he threatened her in a deadly tone.

You heard an annoyed scoff from a male voice before it was followed by the sound of low groans of pain that you made out to be Sunghoon’s, wincing slightly at the hurt in his cries.

“Do something then.” The males voice was speaking in a teasing manner and you heard Sunghoon groan again, likely being hit or kicked by somebody inside to prove a point towards the other boys helplessness. “Oh.. you can’t, that’s right. I forgot.”

There was more sounds after that but you couldn’t fully tell what they were, feeling sick and helpless where you were sitting until Jay was snapping his fingers and getting both of your attention back on him.

He was making signals with his hand and you swiftly understood that he was implying he wanted to rush inside and take them out before they had a chance to react or take any hostages, using the element of surprise to your advantage. Jake seemed more hesitant in the idea although you figured it was only the two of them inside the small house, seeing the car they had arrived it and doubting it could fit more than four people.

Your eyes wandered over to the body on the ground and you steadied your footing in the dirt before nodding softly to Jay and patting Jake on the back.

It went extremely fast, your mind on complete autopilot and devoid of any extreme emotion to help you get through the terrible act without hesitating or missing your shot. Jake was kicking the door open roughly and then stepping back to allow you and Jay to rush forward, relief rushing through you at the confirmation it was only two people and then followed by horror considering how easily you were able to sink your knife into the skull of the woman.

She’d barely had a second to process your arrival, eyes widening in fear and letting out a painful gasp of shock before her face was lifeless and she was crumbling to the floor.

You felt slightly sick that it had been so easy for you to kill two people in the span of minutes but you glanced up at the scared boys huddled around the house and you realized that you didn’t regret it, that you’d do it 100 times again if it was necessary.

Heeseung was tied to the radiator next to Sunghoon, clarifying the reason he hadn’t even able to stop their assault on the boy and you glanced at him to see him far paler and more lifeless than he had been when you’d seen him. He was still alive however and you were rushing to grab the supplies from your bag when you noticed the horror on the boys faces, eyes over your shoulder.

You froze up but before you could turn to see what they were seeing, a shot was ringing out close to your ear and you were completely disoriented for a few seconds.

It took awhile to process what had happened, turning your body in a panic to see a fourth man laying in the doorway of the house. His knife was still rattling against the floor from where he’d dropped it and you saw the exit wound coming out from the backside of his head. You spun back around and your heart crumbled when you saw who it was that had killed the man, saving your life by taking another’s.

Riki was holding the gun in shaky hands, barely able to keep it steady and his eyes were wide in shock and horror, keeping it pointed in your direction despite the threat being gone now.

“Riki.” You were saying softly, still frozen but raising your hands in surrender and taking a small step towards him. You didn’t necessarily think he would hurt you but he clearly wasn’t thinking straight and his fingers were still dangerously tight around the trigger. “Riki, it’s okay. You got him, he’s dead.”

His eyes shot to yours at the words and his face softened slightly, letting you approach and take the gun from his rigid hands.

He was dropping his shoulders in relief once the metal was out of his hands, shocking you by pulling you in for a tight hug that knocked the air out of your lungs. You returned it after a few seconds, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly with your eyes shut. You could hear the others moving around, untying Heeseung and greeting the others.

After Riki let you go and went to sit down in the corner and calm down, you quickly administered the medication into Sunghoon’s veins and sighed softly at the heavy breath he took at the feeling of it entering his system. You pushed his damp hair off his sweaty forehead and smiled softly at him even though he couldn’t see it, happy he had managed to fight for this long.

You were standing up again and immediately bumping into another frame, pausing until you realized it was Heeseung.

His hands were coming up to cup your face and you smiled at him in relief despite the cuts on his face and the noticeable black eye that you imagined had come from the struggle with the looters that had led to him being the only one tied up. “You gave them hell didn’t you.”

He laughed softly at your words and nodded his head, eyes gentle as he looked down at you and you felt your heart clench uncomfortably at both his expression and how much you had missed him.

You thought this about them all as the night continued on, telling them how your run had gone and listening to them laugh and tell funny stories that you didn’t fully understand but you still felt a lightness in your heart just from how excited they sounded about remembering the smallest details of things that had happened to them together in the old world.

Riki was still a but subdued after what had happened, not speaking much and staying in the corner as you all ate dinner and took sips from the liquor bottle the three of you had found on the trip. He seemed a bit out of it and your heart felt heavy after Jungwon had leaned in to whisper and explain to you that he had never killed somebody before.

You felt guilty that he had done something like that to save you, your own mistake for not assuming there was another person still outside or checking the tracks more carefully because you were too worried about them and too focus on getting inside as soon as possible. Your care was making you stupid and making you weak, leaving the youngest to lose a piece of himself to fix your mistake.

It was this that made up your mind for you, solidifying that you couldn’t stay here with them any longer or else things like this would keep happening. You’d have to continue to risk yourself for them and vice versa, you couldn’t take watching them hurt themselves in the name of saving you or each other and you knew now that they were always going to put the others and you over themselves individually.

You kept reminding yourself this as you silently packed your bag, waiting for the others to fall asleep and leave you on watch duty before you were preparing to slip out.

You’d stay in the woods outside the camp for the night and make sure nothing hurt them during your watch cycle and then you were going to disappear into the dark cover of the trees once the next person on the rotation woke up and found you missing. You left them all of the medication and food, taking nothing but your change of clothes and your knives.

The crickets were extra loud as you made your way outside, having carefully stepped over the sleeping boys and left a note with detailed instructions on which medications to give to Sunghoon and when. You included a small goodbye sentence just so they knew you hadn’t been taken and didn’t get hurt trying to find you, although you had a feeling they’d try anyways.

You were barely off the porch, your foot hitting the dirt softly and feeling the cold chill of the night when a voice behind you was causing you to jump and spin around.

“So that’s it then?” You whipped around with wide eyes but your face crumbled when you realized who it was, seeing Heeseung come out of the shadows with a hurt expression and hooded eyes. “You’re not even going to say goodbye?”

You froze as you looked at him, words falling short as your mouth open and closed in silence. He scoffed as he looked at you, turning his head away as his eyes teared up slightly but he shook his head in anger before taking a few steps in your direction with a raised accusatory finger.

“You’re just going to leave after all this?” He was spitting out at you and the tone of his voice, the disgust lacing his words, made your heart drop into your stomach with a crushing weight.

“I have to.” You replied back with desperation, your face curling up in anguish and you tried to get him to understand even slightly what your reasoning was. “Sunghoon almost died Heeseung, and Riki he… these things will keep happening.”

“He didn’t die.” He was almost yelling now and you flinched back at the volume of his voice, having half a mind to shush him softly and watching the way his face curled up in anger at the sound slipping through your lips. “He didn’t die Y/N, and you were the one who made sure of that. You care about us, I know you do.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that, not wanting to correct him especially when he wasn’t wrong.

You did care about them and it was making your skin crawl every time you found yourself smiling affectionately at one of their offhanded jokes or paying extra attention to their wounds and bruises. Even more so with the boy in front of you with the gentle way he touched you to make sure you weren’t injured, when his face was lit up by campfires or his determination to lead a group of boys through a world he himself didn’t understand.

“I can’t watch it happen.” Your voice was breaking and your shoulders sagged in upset, exhaustion wracking through you both emotionally and physically. “And it always happens, Hee.”

“It won’t happen this time.” He was taking more steps towards you and his hands were shakily coming up to hold your face, staring down at you with his own sense of determination to try and help you see his side of things. “Why didn’t you say bye to me?”

He was asking but you knew he already knew your answer and you tried to pull out of his touch to avoid answering, stopping when his thumb was gently rubbing your cheek and shaking his head to try and stop you.

“Because you wouldn’t be able to leave.” He was answering for you, filling in the blank and giving you a soft sad smile that made you break into a sob, your first time allowing yourself to cry for as long as you could remember. “Right? Tell me I’m right.”

You didn’t say anything but you didn’t need to, feeling him pull you in tightly against his chest as you fully let yourself feel the wave of your emotions, restricting them for so long in the name of survival and fighting to make it through the day.

Heeseung was keeping you in his embrace even when your legs were giving out and you were sinking to the floor in his arms, your hands hitting the dirt and feeling it mold between your fingers. You hooked your head over his shoulder and shut your eyes tight when your gaze fell on the body of the man you’d killed so easily earlier.

You let him hold you like that until your sobs were slowing down and the blood was drying in the grass.

You stayed like that far longer than you’d realized, sitting still and frozen until your cries slowed down and his blood had fully dried in the grass.

[pedrito-friskito]

// track 1 - fortnight //

-> welcome officially to TTWD! (kay’s version). first on our track list is some sweet, smutty lovin’ from my favourite lover boy, marcus pike🤍

word count: 2.5k

warnings: drinking, meet-cute, unprotected p-in-v (wrap it before u tap it), marcus is a pleasure dom we all know this, kay knows nothing about the FBI LOL

Marcus has always hated paperwork. Finds it tedious, though he knows it’s necessary, but he loathes it, much preferring to celebrate a job well done than to rehash his assignment alone in his office.

It’s that exact hatred that had him sneaking out of the building, heading in the direction of the bar not far from his temporary workplace, one he’d visited earlier in the week with a few friends.

He’s only here for a few weeks, two to be exact. And with the way things are going, he has a feeling he’ll be heading back to Washington earlier than anticipated. He doesn’t mind the travel, it’s always been a perk of the job, though he knows it’s probably part of the reason he has yet to settle down.

After the fiasco in Austin with Robin, he’d sworn off dating for a while. Washington was a fresh start in every sense, but no sooner had he unpacked his bag, they were sending him to Maine on a job, then to Seattle, then Colorado, then Tulsa, the list went on and on. For a stretch of at least four months, he hadn’t even set foot in his apartment, living out of a bag and becoming far too accustomed to sleeping on those godawful chairs in the airport.

Seattle had been a highlight, however.

You were the commanding officer of your division, as much of an art geek as Marcus, and damn good at your job. Marcus had fallen easily into step beside you, and his week-long visit was shorted to a weekend after your success, but he found himself lingering, hesitant to tell his own CO that the job was done. He knew the news would make its way up the flagpole regardless, but he wanted to stay.

Wanted to know you better.

You let him, the pair of you starting with a dinner that was so full of conversation that you didn’t realize the place was closing until your polite-as-hell waiter gently suggested you head across the street to a 24-hour diner with the best cup of coffee in the city. You’d headed over, Marcus holding an umbrella over you both against the sudden downpour.

He lost count of the cups of coffee, enraptured by the way your hand kept inching closer to his on the tabletop, how your gaze flickered between his mouth and his eyes. On a whim, he reached out, curling his fingers around yours and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

The rain outside had thinned to a drizzle, and he leaned across the table. “You wanna get out of here?”

It was you who ended up taking him home, to the small house near the coast you called home. “Much nicer than whatever hotel they have you in, I can guarantee,” you commented as you fumbled with the lock.

The moment you were over the threshold, he had your face in his hands and was brushing his mouth over yours, the taste of coffee lingering on both your tongues, Marcus stepping forward so you would step back, until your shoulders hit the wall and he could press himself against you.

You took him to bed, and called in the next day, more content to spend the day with him. You didn’t leave the bedroom much, and the week progressed like that, wrapped up in sex and conversation and coffee, until Marcus’s phone rang and the bubble popped.

“We need you in Colorado. Your flight leaves in four hours.”

He saw it move through your face, then you shrugged and said, “It’s the job. I get it.”

He didn’t want to leave. But he had to. You said over and over that you understood, and when he asked if you could stay in touch, that maybe this could work, your eyes clouded.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Marcus.”

Crushed, he got himself drunk in the airport bar, and by morning, he had a new assignment, and knew he had to put you behind him.

Fate, however, seems to have another plan in mind.

Stepping into the bar, he sighs, heading toward the same stool he’d occupied a few nights ago, when a familiar face catches his eye. His heart stutters in his chest as he reaches his seat, letting his suit jacket slide off his shoulders.

Your hair is shorter than he remembers — maybe a trim, maybe his mind is playing tricks on him — but the rest is the same. Better, somehow, like a restored painting in his mind as he drinks you in again like it’s the first time. Perched at the bar, your fingers curled around a glass, one heeled foot floating in the air. 

He recognizes those heels. He took you out for dinner another night in Seattle, and when you got home that night, he told you to keep them on. And you did. He felt the marks in his back for weeks, but it was worth it.

He orders a scotch, knowing he’s going to need more than a little courage. But how is he going to play this? What’s the best way to—

“Marcus?”

You’ve made the decision for him, your excited gaze meeting his across the few stools separating you. There’s a light in your eyes he remembers, knows you’ve probably had more than one drink, and that your next will be water. You had a system, he remembers you telling him.

The bartender slides him his drink, and Marcus takes it over to where you’re sitting, sinking into the stool beside you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You grin wider. “Of all the gin joints in all the world…”

His heart does that stuttering thing again. “You finally watched Casablanca?”

“I did,” you reply, nodding, looking up at him through your lashes. “Cried like a baby.”

“Told you.” Tossing back some of his scotch, he signals the bartender to bring you a water. “I can’t believe it.”

You’re still smiling, your head cocked slightly to the side. “You know, I had the strangest feeling I was going to run into you? It sounds insane, I’m sure.”

“Not insane,” he shakes his head, setting his glass down inches from yours. If he straightened his fingers, he could brush the tips along yours. “I’m calling it fate.”

“Fate?”

He nods, taking a healthy sip of his drink. Liquid courage. “I’ve been wanting to call you since I left Seattle.”

You scoff. “It’s been three months, Marcus.”

He leans forward, contemplating putting his hand on your knee but thinking better of it. “I know, and I feel awful. I just…didn’t know what to say. When I left, it didn’t exactly sound like you wanted to hear from me again.”

“I didn’t,” you say bluntly, sipping your drink and mumbling thank you as the bartender brings you your water. “It wasn’t going to work; we both knew that.”

“And yet, here we are.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Fate, huh?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Or something like it. I’ve missed you. A week wasn’t nearly long enough.”

Your gaze meets his and lingers, flickering between his mouth and his eyes. “How long are you in town for?”

“Two weeks,” he answers. “Maybe less. I’m on assignment, but I plan to stay right through. Been slacking on my paperwork. Then once I get back to Washington, I’m hoping to stay in one spot for a while. What about you?”

“Two weeks,” you echo, and he grins.

“Fate, I tell you.”

“We shouldn’t do this again,” you say, leaning back slightly, your brow pinching. “Rekindle what we had just to have it pulled away again? It isn’t fair, Marcus.”

Defeat sinks onto him like a weighted blanket around his shoulders, and he tosses back the rest of his drink, the glass feeling like lead in his hand. “You’re right, it’s not—”

“We shouldn’t,” you cut him off, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Before he can get another word out, you’ve got your fingers curled around his tie, tugging him down your level. Your lips are soft, tasting faintly of lime and mint, and Marcus can’t help himself. His free hand dives into your hair, fingers locking around the strands, tugging until your lips part against his and he can kiss you more thoroughly, tongue stroking yours.

You pull back with a soft moan, still gripping his tie. “You wanna get out of here?”

Twenty minutes later, he’s pushing the door of his hotel room open, your fingers linked together. 

“Don’t mind the mess,” he starts, but barely gets the words out as the door shuts behind you. It’s his back that hits the wall, a low grunt falling past his lips as you tug on his tie again, using it as leverage to drag yourself closer, closing the distance between your bodies.

Marcus groans as you fit your face into his neck, teeth scraping his pulse as his hands find homes on your hips. Clothes start to fall away, landing in puddles of fabric on the floor until you’re both bare and falling into his unmade bed together. He lays you out on your back, trails kisses right down the front of you, over each hip and along the inside of your thigh. He doesn’t stop until you’re keening, back arching and one hand locked in his hair.

You’re soaked when he strokes his fingers along you, his name sung like a prayer when he presses them inside you. “Fuck,” he grits, curling up and dragging slow, watching the way your body reacts, the way it shapes to him. “Just as tight as I remember.”

You whimper, head falling back as he pushes deeper, seeking out that rough patch inside you, remembering how it made you fall apart before. The hand not in his hair shoots down, fingers wrapped around his wrist, forcing him deeper.

He lowers himself, kneeling at the edge of the bed, surveying how you’re spread out before him, your knee hooked over his arm. “Look at you,” he purrs, dragging his mouth along your thigh again. He can feel your muscles twitch, see the way your breath chokes out. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

Body writhing, your head lifts just enough for your eyes to meet.

“More.”

He’s more than happy to oblige, lowering his mouth to your cunt, laving his tongue around the place you’re split around his fingers. You moan loudly, one hand clapping over your mouth a moment later, and he snakes his free hand up your chest, squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple between his knuckles.

“I want to hear you,” he mumbles against you, moving up ever so slightly to suck your clit between his lips. It makes your whole body go tighter than sin, bearing down on his fingers as your breath hitches. He doesn’t stop, swirling his tongue against your clit, releasing it only to lap at you over and over, his fingers never stopping until you go tighter still, every muscle going taut as you cum, his name moaned over and over until your body starts to go lax.

He pulls his fingers from you slowly, still tonguing at your cunt as he does, pulling away only when you push lightly at his head. He stands slowly, cock hard as a rock against his stomach, and watches your eyes roam up his body as he licks his fingers clean.

“Come here,” you beckon as he leans over the bed, planting a hand on either side of you. Your hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling him close. “I still need more, Marcus.”

He doesn’t make you wait long, using his knees to spread your thighs further. His cock taps against your cunt as he lowers his body to yours, and you gasp, finding his mouth with yours. He drinks down your noises as he presses himself inside of you, the pleasure snaking down his spine like a memory.

He’ll be the first to admit that this is what he’s thought of these last three months. You, underneath him, your body soft and pliant and his. It hasn’t been far from his mind, playing like a movie in his mind whenever he’s taken care of himself.

But just like seeing you again in the bar, this is another thing entirely.

Your body accepts everything he has to offer, your heels hooking around his calves, hips rocking up into his. You’re still so fucking tight, and he knows he’s not going to last long, knows that’s why he made sure you came first.

The room fills with the sound of skin-on-skin, with your breathy moans and his quiet grunts. You hook one hand under his ribs, the other finding the back of his head and tugging at his hair, putting your gaze to his. “I want to hear you, too,” you tell him, a sly smile on your face, and he nearly cums on the spot.

He didn’t need the permission, but it unlocks him all the same, the quiet grunts growing louder until he’s all but growling your name in your ear, fitting his face into your neck and biting down as he feels the pleasure coil tighter and tighter until he knows he’s about to cum.

It starts to rip its way through him, and he pulls himself from you, painting the crease of your thigh with his cum, chest heaving. You watch him, eyes darting between his face and his twitching cock. The look on your face tells him you have other plans for him.

Good, because he’s got other plans for you, too.

And fuck the two weeks, he’s not letting you go again.

As you both come down, Marcus having retrieved a cloth from the bathroom to clean you up, both of you sharing. a glass of water, your face turns sheepish as you hand him back the water. “What is it?”

Your mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. “You know how I said I thought I was going to run into you earlier? I think the reason I was feeling that…was because I’ve been meaning to call you, too. Since you left, I wanted to call you, and then something happened and I just…”

“What happened?” he asks, sinking onto the bed beside where you’re laid out, pillow bunched under your arm, head tilted into your hand.

“I got a job offer,” you say, and before he can congratulate you, you lift a hand. “I got a job offer, and you were the first person I wanted to call, but I wasn’t sure if I should. Because it’s been three months and you’re amazing and I kept telling myself you found someone else and that was why you never called. But then I got this job offer, and I…”

You trail off, shaking your head, staring him down. “What’s the job, sweet thing?” he asks, reaching out and putting his hand on your leg, covered by the blanket.

The sheepishness disappears and you grin. “It’s in Washington.”

// TTWD track list //

[the-old-mayhem]

I've never understood people who think Øystein treated Pelle's corpse the way he did because of "shock" or "trauma" or whatever. Literally who, in the history of ever, saw that their "friend" committed suicide and decided to react to that by taking pictures and chunks of bone? I just don't buy it, at all. Øystein was just a shit person sometimes, he was young it isn't bad to admit lol

Many people, in the history of ever, did such things. Mary Shelley had her husband's heart in her drawer, for example. People wear ashes of their family, friends and pets around their necks. Him collecting bones isn't at all weird to me.

I am not sure that you know how emotional shock aka traumatic shock works, and that people who witness things like Øystein did, can develop even temporary personality changes (google it if you don't believe me), dissociation, absolutely erratic behaviour etc.

I have witnessed a family friend making bad jokes and laughing when her son had died in a car accident, and then after a year or two she ended up on 3 year long sick leave because of mental health issues. Trauma and grief work in funny ways, my dude.

Øystein was a shit person as much as Pelle was a shit person, don't fucking elevate Pelle to a position of a martyr and a helpless little victim, while Øystein gets all the heat. "I can't say that Pelle wouldn't do the same thing if he was the one who found Øystein's corpse" is what his own brother has told me face to face. I am so sick of Øystein hate, ffs