#[ answered asks ] setting fire to our insides for fun

[grcvewctcherarchivedarchived]

‘  i feel like i could lie wrapped in your arms,  staring at the sky for centuries  &  need nothing else.  ’ - @berthindeath

Emmrich blinks down at the woman currently wrapped in his arms, only slightly bemused, lips twitching to a smile. They're on the balcony of the Lighthouse, watching the Fade's sky shimmer through magic, through color and dreams, and if he is to be truthful to the core, he feels much the same.

There is a contentment here that he has never known the like of.

"I think eventually, your legs would go numb, my dear," he teases gently, before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and shifting them both where he leans against the railing, and she against his chest.

"But I shall endeavor to fulfill that need as much as we both comfortably can."

[sweettu1ips]

PAIGE BUECKERS x FEM!READER

REQUEST: Can you do one where Paige and get gf get caught making out (or full on doing it) in one of the team facilities and they get bullied (in all good faith) for the entire day but the next day they show up with hickeys on their necks and the whole team including coaches see and teammates make fun of them. Later in the day they see hickeys on their thighs and asked crazy questions again and do not let it go | request here

WARNING(S): (18+) slight smut ⋮ oral (r!receiving) ⋮ hickeys on neck + thighs ⋮ making out ⋮ getting caught ⋮ teasing ⋮ established relationship ⋮ think that's all ..

WORD COUNT: 4.9K

| MAIN MASTER LIST |

THE GYM STILL PULSED with the ghost of motion, the energy of the game clinging to the air like an echo that refused to fade.

The sharp squeak of sneakers on polished hardwood still lingered in my ears, phantom footsteps chasing each other across the court.

The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting long shadows that stretched and swayed as if they, too, were reluctant to let the night end.

The air was thick—humid with the weight of bodies in motion, steeped in the sharp, briny scent of sweat and adrenaline.

It wrapped around us, a heady mixture of exertion and something else, something less tangible but more intoxicating. Something unspoken yet undeniable.

Laughter and chatter rippled through the gym as teammates gathered their things, shoving each other playfully, shoulders bumping, voices overlapping.

The scent of worn leather and cooling skin mixed with the artificial sweetness of sports drinks, the occasional pop of a water bottle cap punctuating the noise. One by one, they trickled out, disappearing into the night, the open world waiting to swallow them whole.

But not us.

Paige and I lingered, the pretense of duty draped loosely over us like a threadbare excuse. Gathering stray basketballs, stacking neon cones, looping resistance bands over our arms—movements automatic, practiced, but our minds were elsewhere.

The silence between us wasn’t empty; it was charged, humming with the friction of something unspoken but growing louder with every second.

It had started during practice, or maybe even before that. The slow, burning awareness of each other, the weight of her gaze when she thought I wasn’t looking. The brush of her fingers against my back, my waist, my hip—each touch fleeting but deliberate, setting my skin ablaze in ways a full game never could.

This wasn’t just cleanup.

This was stalling.

Dragging out these last few moments before the inevitable pull became impossible to resist.

Every stolen glance, every fleeting brush of her fingertips had been kindling to a fire that had long since ignited—its embers buried beneath my skin, glowing, crackling, spreading like molten honey through my veins.

Heat curled in the pit of my stomach, thick and insistent, twisting like smoke from a slow-burning wick, waiting for the moment it would finally catch, finally consume.

Even now, as I stood gripping a stack of disc cones, I could feel the weight of her gaze—heavy, dragging over me like a painter’s brush, tracing every line, every curve with a deliberate slowness.

Mapping the length of my legs, the dip of my waist, the way my sweat-slicked shorts clung to me like a second skin.

Paige wasn’t just looking. She was studying. Committing me to memory in a way that sent a sharp, thrilling ache curling between my ribs.

"Are you even listening?" I narrowed my eyes, placing the cones inside the storage room, my voice sharper than I intended, though it did nothing to break her focus.

Paige didn’t answer.

Instead, she moved—fluid, intentional, her every step humming with a quiet sort of control that made my breath catch. Her hands, warm and unyielding, found my wrist, her grip sending a jolt of anticipation up my arm, down my spine. She tugged me into the narrow hall, the space suddenly feeling too small, too charged, her body a live wire against mine.

Her eyes flickered around, scanning for stragglers, but the way her fingers tightened just slightly around my wrist told me everything.

I knew that look.

And I knew exactly where this was going.

And then, before I could even shape her name into something solid, before the thought of resistance could form, she was moving—swift and sure, pushing open the locker room door, guiding me inside with a silent kind of urgency that sent a sharp thrill down my spine.

The heavy door swung shut behind us, the world outside fading into nothing but muffled echoes, leaving only the pulse of her presence, the charged air stretching taut between us.

“Paige—”

I barely breathed it, barely formed the syllables before my back met cold wood, the shock of it biting through the heat coiling in my veins.

The wooden locker bench rattled behind me, a hollow clang swallowed by the hush of the room, by the press of her body against mine—so warm, so solid, so devastatingly close.

The air crackled between us, thick with something unspoken, something waiting to snap. My skin burned, every nerve alive with the anticipation of her touch, every cell in my body tuned to her. And then—

Then, she kissed me.

It was reckless, molten, a kiss that stole the breath from my lungs and replaced it with fire. Her lips crashed into mine, not tentative, not teasing, but claiming. A collision of want and heat, of something that had been simmering too long, finally spilling over.

The weight of her against me, the way her hands grasped at my hips like she couldn’t stand the distance—God, it was intoxicating.

I gasped into her mouth, fingers clutching at the fabric of her jersey, dragging her closer, needing more, needing her in a way that felt primal. But it still wasn’t enough.

I needed her like a body needs air. Like fire needs oxygen to burn.

I let my hands slip beneath the edge of her jersey, fingertips grazing the soft warmth of her skin, pulling it up slowly as if I could feel every inch of her body alive beneath my touch.

The smooth curve of her waist, the hard lines of muscle beneath, each shift of her body beneath my hands made me ache with a need that settled low in my belly. Every ridge, every dip of her form seemed to hum against my skin.

A shiver ran through Paige, sharp and electric, as my fingers traced the contours of her body.

The quiet groan that rose from her chest vibrated through me like a low hum, something primal, something desperate, and it cut through the haze of wanting, striking me like a blade to the heart.

My own pulse quickened, blood rushing to my ears, the ache inside me sharp and deep.

And then—without warning—I was lifted.

Paige’s hands slid beneath my thighs, strong and steady, lifting me effortlessly as though I weighed nothing at all. My back left the cool, hard wood of the lockers, and I was weightless for a moment—caught in the air, held in her arms.

Her strength was a kind of magic, and when she set me down on the couch, I could feel the weight of her presence settling between my legs. Her body pressed into mine, full of warmth and heat, every inch of her against me—so close that my head spun, my breath shallow and ragged.

The pressure of her, the force of her body moving against mine, made my chest tighten with a craving so raw it nearly stole the air from my lungs.

Her lips left mine, trailing a path of fire down my jaw, each kiss a whispered promise, each breath a silent plea. Her mouth found the curve of my neck, her breath warm and soft, sending shivers skittering across my skin.

She paused at my pulse, lips brushing, then pressing firmly as she sucked—tender, then teasing, then possessive in a way that made my body arch instinctively towards her.

I gasped, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, not caring if she could hear my desperate need in the way I tugged at her, urging her deeper into me. A sigh slipped from her lips, vibrating against my skin, and I felt it all the way down to my bones.

Goosebumps rippled along my skin in the wake of her touch, each fingertip leaving a trail of fire and ice in its wake, as if her hands were both a balm and a blaze.

The contrast was sharp—cool, electrifying shivers meeting the molten heat pooling low in my stomach, a tension so thick it pulled tight across my chest.

My hands roamed the wide expanse of her back, tracing every sinew, every curve, as though trying to memorize the way her muscles moved beneath soft skin. I felt the subtle shift of her posture, the delicate flex of her body as she adjusted, as she pressed closer, her breath mingling with mine.

Each movement was deliberate, every inch of contact like a silent conversation—an exchange of yearning and promise.

We were caught in the tide of something that wasn’t just lust, wasn’t just the desperate need of bodies craving each other.

No, it was thicker than that, heavier—like a dark, intoxicating storm that rolled in without warning, flooding me with a desire that felt like drowning, but in the best way possible.

The ache in my chest, the throbbing pull in my veins, was more than just physical. It was the quiet desperation to feel her, to be with her, to lose myself in the space where she and I collided. We were fire and fuel, each breath a flame that threatened to consume us whole.

When Paige’s lips found mine again, it was slower, deeper—an unraveling.

The kiss wasn’t frantic; it was a quiet, lingering hunger, a study of each other’s mouth, of the rhythm we created, of the way our bodies knew how to bend and fit together, like two puzzle pieces that had been waiting their entire lives to meet.

Each brush of her lips was a gentle claim, a slow unraveling of tension that had been wound too tight. My hands tangled in her hair, urging her closer, needing the weight of her against me, needing to feel the full depth of her hunger.

My lungs burned, but I didn’t care.

Paige wasn’t just my breath.

She was the wildfire consuming me, turning everything to ash and desire, leaving only the scorched remnants of myself behind.

Paige’s back was faced towards the door, her body a steady, comforting presence against mine. We were so lost in each other, the touch of her hands, the press of her lips, the weight of her gaze—that everything else in the world faded away.

The hum of the gym, the sounds of our teammates disappearing into the distance, the lingering burn in our muscles—all of it dissolved into the quiet intimacy of the locker room.

We were cocooned in our own world, where nothing existed but the electric pulse of our skin against each other.

The only sound was the rhythmic thumping of our hearts, syncing in a frantic dance that echoed through the silence, our bodies swaying as if guided by some magnetic pull.

But then came the footsteps.

A faint shuffle at first, barely perceptible, but loud enough to snap us back to reality, to shatter the fragile bubble we had created. The sound of sneakers against tile grew louder, sharper, like a warning bell ringing in the distance. Panic flared up in my chest, sudden and hot.

Before I could process the rush of alarm, the door slammed open with a loud crack that felt like it shattered the space between us.

The sound echoed in the room, jarring us from the fragile cocoon we had woven around ourselves.

My body jerked back, nearly losing balance, but Paige’s hands were like fire on my waist, quick and strong, anchoring me as I crashed into her.

Her breath hitched in shock, her eyes wide with surprise, but there was a flash of something else too—anger, protective and fierce—as she twisted around, her gaze sharpening into a glare, directed at the intruder as if daring them to even think about encroaching on our space.

Her posture was all fire, like a lioness ready to protect her territory, and I felt the power of it settle deep in my chest. The room felt smaller now, but it wasn’t the tightness of walls—no, it was the weight of being caught, of being exposed, that made the air thicken.

We pulled apart, hearts still racing, our faces flushed with the rush of embarrassment and the remnants of heat we couldn’t shake.

But when our eyes found the source of the interruption, it wasn’t anger we felt—it was an awkward jolt of vulnerability.

Our friends stood in the doorway, their wide eyes taking in the scene, none of them saying a word, but their grins spoke volumes. Ice, ever the instigator, raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly, knowing smile.

My heart was pounding, and I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

The air between us was thick, suffocating with the pressure of what had just been interrupted, but the doorframe suddenly filled with the faces of our friends—wide-eyed, mouths agape.

And then Ice’s voice cut through the tension, teasing, light but pointed, as her grin stretched across her face like a wolf circling prey.

“I’m sorry, were you two...?” she drawled, her voice dripping with mischief as she let the question hang in the air. The rest of the team filed in behind her, already laughing, already knowing—too much, too soon.

“Nothing happened!” I shot back instantly, the words tumbling out too quickly, too defensively. My face burned, hotter than anything Paige had made me feel just moments before.

“Nothing, huh?” Sarah’s voice was laced with playful challenge as she gave us a knowing, half-smirk. “We’ll just tell Coach then, no big deal.”

“Shut up!” Paige muttered, her voice thick with laughter that didn’t quite cover the surprise still rattling through her. She tried to brush it off, but it was clear—she was as flustered as I was, and the teasing was only beginning.

Azzi’s voice rang out across the room, teasing and loud, almost playful enough to pierce through the tension.

“You guys are so cute,” she teased, the words thick with a mix of affection and mockery. “Kissing in the locker room like it’s a rom-com!”

“Yeah, how long have you two been sneaking around, huh? Making out after practice?” KK’s voice joined in, her grin cheeky, her wink a clear challenge.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, leaning into Paige’s side for support, her warmth grounding me even as the teasing escalated.

She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer, her own quiet laugh vibrating against my ear as we tried to cover the embarrassment we both felt.

But the teasing didn’t stop there. It continued in small bursts—every casual glance from across the room felt like a spotlight, every whisper coated in an undertone of knowing.

The rest of the team didn’t let up. For the rest of the day, we were the subject of every whispered conversation, every sly look, every playful jab.

It was harmless, all in good fun—but still, the intensity of it all made us feel like the center of a universe we hadn’t meant to create.

THE NEXT DAY:

Last night had been something out of a fever dream—clothes flung carelessly across the room, the lingering scent of sweat and skin, the remnants of our desperation painted in bruises along our bodies.

Every inch of me ached, a slow burn of pleasure and exertion coiling beneath my skin, a testament to the way we had taken each other apart, piece by piece, only to put ourselves back together again.

But the morning… the morning was no different.

A slow, building sensation—warmth pooling low in my belly, something slick and wet teasing against the most sensitive part of me.

Even in the haze of sleep, it sent shivers up my spine. My breath hitched, my legs twitching beneath the sheets as pleasure stirred me from the edges of unconsciousness.

Then came the first real stroke of her tongue, languid, deliberate. My hips jerked slightly, a moan slipping past my parted lips.

“Oh, fuck—” My voice was rough with sleep, my fingers blindly searching for something—anything—to hold onto as my body arched against the touch.

My eyelids fluttered open, the dim light of morning spilling through the curtains, and there she was. Paige, mouth hot and eager against my folds, licking into me like a woman possessed.

She pulled back just enough to press a kiss to the inside of my thigh, her breath warm against my damp skin.

“Good morning, baby.”

Her voice was thick with amusement, smug and knowing, before she dove back in, this time wrapping her lips around my clit and sucking, sending a jolt of electricity straight through me.

My back arched off the mattress, a sharp gasp tearing from my throat, my hands tangling in the sheets.

I kicked off the duvet, the fabric pooling at my waist, revealing Paige in all her sinful glory—hair twisted into a messy bun, blue eyes locked onto mine, her mouth glistening with me.

My legs were thrown over her strong shoulders, her grip bruising against my thighs as she held me open for her, completely at her mercy.

And God, she looked starved.

"M’sorry," she groaned, voice muffled as her lips pressed deeper against me, her mouth hot and unrelenting.

The apology was empty—pointless—because the moment her tongue flattened and dragged through my folds, all I could do was arch into her, thighs trembling.

A shuddering gasp tore from my lips as the vibration of her words rippled through me. "Got hungry, baby," she murmured, her grip on my hips loosening just enough to tease me with the absence. One hand left its place, drifting lower, a featherlight caress against my entrance that had me keening.

And then—Paige filled me.

Two fingers, warm and deft, stretched me open with a slow, deliberate thrust, the kind that sent a sharp, needy cry tumbling from my lips. My breath hitched, nails clawing into the sheets as pleasure curled low and deep, winding through me like a live wire.

"Please," I gasped, voice shaking, body trembling against her.

She didn’t make me wait. Paige was never cruel like that. Her fingers curled inside me, finding that devastating spot with a precision so sharp, so consuming, that my vision blurred at the edges.

A white-hot rush seared through my spine, my back arching off the mattress as my legs quivered beneath her touch.

"Right there," I moaned, voice raw, desperate. "Right there, baby."

She hummed in satisfaction, her lips never straying far from where she wanted to worship me.

Open-mouthed kisses burned along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, her tongue flicking over the heat she left behind before she latched on, sucking slow, deep, claiming.

A moan spilled from my lips as I felt it—the mark she was leaving, a deep bloom of purple, a whisper of her possession etched into my skin.

"Paige!" I cried out, my hips jerking when she finally—finally—attached her lips to my swollen clit. The sensation was instant, electric.

The dual assault of her mouth and fingers—sucking, stroking, curling—had me spiraling, toes curling into the sheets as heat pooled molten in my belly.

My thighs tensed around her head, every muscle locking up, strung tight with the unbearable need for release.

My walls clenched around her fingers, desperate, unrelenting, pulling her deeper.

A strangled sound ripped from my throat as my head fell back, drowning in it, lost in her.

"Ugh—baby, I’m so close," I whimpered, voice breaking, pleasure surging in waves. "Please—please, don’t stop."

"Come for me, princess," Paige murmured, her voice dark, coaxing, dripping with sinful intent.

And I did.

The coil inside me snapped, pleasure bursting like a tidal wave, swallowing me whole.

My back arched, lips parting on a silent scream as the world around me dissolved into nothing but heat, touch, and the sweet, unbearable pulse of release.

My thighs trembled, my body wracked with aftershocks as Paige worked me through it—her fingers slowing, her tongue soothing, kissing away the remnants of my pleasure until I was nothing but a boneless, trembling mess beneath her.

I gasped, shuddering as I came down, my mind hazy, limbs heavy, completely undone. The room was thick with warmth, with the scent of us, with the lingering echo of my moans still ghosting through the air.

Still catching my breath, I reached for her, pulling her up—bringing her close. Paige hovered above me, her lips glossy, eyes dark, watching me with a knowing smirk.

But I wasn’t done.

With a lazy, satisfied grin, I rolled us over, pressing her into the mattress, my hands already trailing down, teasing, promising.

"Your turn," I purred, voice still wrecked from what she had done to me.

Then, without another word, I disappeared beneath the duvet—ready to return the favor.

"Morning, y’all," Paige greeted smoothly as we stepped into the gym, her voice dripping with the same ease and confidence she always carried.

But this morning, that nonchalance felt almost too casual—like she hadn’t woken up and stared at the same damning evidence on her neck that I had on mine.

The second we crossed the threshold, the air in the gym shifted. Conversations stumbled to a halt, laughter simmered down, and a thick, buzzing silence settled in its place.

It wasn’t the usual quiet before practice, nor was it the exhausted lull after a hard workout. This was the kind of silence that comes before a storm.

And then—like a fuse finally catching fire—it spread.

Smirks ignited on familiar faces, creeping across lips that barely tried to hold back amusement.

Eyes flickered between Paige and me, scanning, assessing, then zeroing in with a focus so sharp I felt it like a brand against my skin.

Azzi. KK. Sarah. Ice. And—oh, for the love of God—now Aubrey, too.

Goddamn it, Ice and her big-ass mouth.

There was a certain mischief in their gazes, their smirks widening as they took in something Paige and I clearly hadn’t noticed yet. A slow, prickling heat climbed the back of my neck, my stomach twisting with unease.

Paige and I exchanged a glance. Confused. Searching. Unspoken words flickering between us.

And then I saw it. Or rather, I felt it.

A dull ache where her lips had pressed against my neck last night, kissing, sucking, marking. And the realization hit me like a slap.

Shit.

The matching bruises. The unmistakable evidence of last night’s reckless hands and wandering lips, still stamped across our skin like ink that refused to fade.

I didn’t even have time to react before KK’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Oh, it definitely was a good morning, huh?” KK smirked. 

"Guess you two didn’t just kiss yesterday," Ice hollered, her voice ringing through the gym like a gunshot.

A wolfish grin stretched across her face as she pointed directly at our necks. "More like… full-on making out, huh?"

Laughter exploded around us, bouncing off the gym walls, each chuckle and cackle making the heat in my face burn even hotter.

Azzi let out a low whistle. "Damn, y’all couldn’t wait till after practice?"

KK snorted, elbowing Sarah. "That’s why they volunteered to clean up last night. Thought they were being slick."

Sarah shook her head with a smirk. "More like sloppy. Y’all didn’t even try to cover it up."

Aubrey, of all people, chimed in with a teasing grin. "At least pretend to be ashamed."

And Paige?

Paige had the audacity to smirk.

She loved this. Thrived in it.

She simply shrugged, all lazy confidence, like she wasn’t the reason I was currently dying of secondhand embarrassment.

"Jealous?" she drawled, the smirk in her voice just as clear as the one on her face.

A collective groan. Eye rolls. KK threw a towel at her. A chorus of “oh, shut up, Paige.”

I buried my face in my hands, groaning as the teasing escalated, but even through my fingers, I could feel Paige’s eyes on me. Not just watching—devouring, savoring, enjoying every second of my suffering.

And across the gym, CD finally glanced up.

Her gaze flickered over us, cool and unreadable, before settling back down, like she were choosing peace instead of engaging in whatever the hell was happening. But it didn’t matter. The damage was done.

This wasn’t just any morning at practice.

We could pretend we had walked in like normal. We could act like nothing had changed.

But the proof was already there, written in bruises and smirks and the way Paige’s fingers brushed against mine like last night wasn’t enough.

And judging by the way our teammates were still grinning, teasing, and whispering, they weren’t going to let this go anytime soon… again.

My body was a canvas of aching muscles and fatigue by the time practice ended. Each movement felt like a betrayal, the weight of the day pressing into my bones, the sting of every drill lingering in my skin.

Geno’s harsh words were still burned into my mind, his voice echoing like a drumbeat, demanding more—more effort, more focus. He’d been relentless today, his critiques like sharp stones, each one sinking deeper than the last.

And then there were the girls—constant teasing, their laughter ringing in my ears, pulling at the edges of my patience. Nothing, absolutely nothing, had gone my way today.

I tried to shake it off, willing the exhaustion to loosen its grip on me, but before I could even gather my thoughts, Geno’s voice cut through the air again, sharp and direct.

“Y/N.”

My name bounced off the walls like a sudden storm, filling the empty gym with a weight I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I turned, locking eyes with him, trying to steady my breath. His gaze was different now, less harsh, almost softened by the weariness of the day.

He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture signaling that he was about to say something important—something that, for once, might actually make me feel like I wasn’t just the target of his frustrations.

“You know I push you because I believe in you, right?” His voice was quieter now, more personal, like he was trying to reach through the tension between us, to calm the storm in both of us.

I let out a breath, slow and controlled, nodding. “I know.” And I did. I knew he was tough on me because he expected the best. Because he believed I could handle it, even when I felt like I was breaking.

But today... today had felt different. The weight of every word, every move, it had all piled on, and no matter how hard I tried, it was impossible to shake it.

The gym was emptying out now, the sound of bag zippers, shoes squeaking on the floor, and quiet chatter filling the space.

I bent down to grab my bag, my fingers brushing against the cold floor as I tried to push all the noise from my head. But then, behind me, a sharp gasp broke through the hum of the room.

“Oh my god…”

It was Paige’s voice, thick with disbelief, and the instant she spoke, the whole world seemed to stop. I froze. I didn’t even need to turn around. I already knew what she was staring at.

The marks. The dark, unmistakable hickeys on my thighs.

I swallowed hard, my heart stuttering in my chest. No. No, not now. Not here.

Azzi’s voice rang out, light and teasing, as if she’d just found the greatest treasure. “No way,” she said, her words drawing a sharp laugh from the rest of the team.

“You guys are out here with hickeys on your thighs now? What’s next? A map of your entire body?”

And just like that, the weight of my embarrassment crashed into me, a flood of heat rushing to my face. I wanted to disappear. To sink into the floor and never come back. But of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Stop it!” I groaned, half-laughing, half-wincing. The teasing was relentless, each word digging deeper, a playful but pointed reminder of my private life spilling out into the open. “You’re making it worse!”

Sarah stepped forward, arms crossed, her expression dramatic and serious, but her eyes sparkling with humor.

“Where’s the line, huh?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock concern. “Are we gonna see them on your backs tomorrow?”

The entire team erupted into laughter, the sound of it echoing in the gym, bouncy and light, as if the day’s weight had been lifted by this moment of shared chaos.

Even our coaches, who’d been trying so hard to stay professional, couldn’t hold back a chuckle under their breath.

Paige stood next to me, her face a mirror of my own—exasperated, embarrassed, but also unable to do anything but laugh with the team. We exchanged a glance, our eyes saying everything without a word.

This was the price we paid for trying to keep something private in a world that was far too eager to share it.

And yet, there was something freeing about it too. Every time they found a new angle to tease us, every time the jokes started back up, it felt less like an invasion and more like a badge of honor. We had earned this moment. We were owning it, because what else could we do?

The teasing didn’t stop, but neither did we. And as the laughter rang in my ears, I realized it wasn’t the worst thing in the world after all.

…or maybe it was.

requests are open! Also just wanted to say that I loved writing this <3

© sweettu1ips.tumblr 2025 do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[xetlynn]

season 2 claggor x fem reader maybe they get caught making out?? thank you for keeping the tag alive 

of courseee and thank you!!!<3

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Preheat

[arcane] [main page]

Summary: in which you and claggor get caught in a lil steamy moment.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Powder and Ekko wave goodbye, leaving our home to go out on a well-needed date. Claggor, Mylo and you tell them to have fun and enjoy themselves. You bring your legs up on the couch, playing around with your necklace. “Welp, this is boring. I’m leaving.” Mylo stands up, grabbing his jacket. He doesn’t even say anything when walking out the door.

 

Claggor and you turn to one another before chuckling. “We have the house to ourselves it seems.” He smiles. The corners of your lips doing the same movement. “What should we do?” You ask, holding onto your knees. The two of you had recently started dating after being friends since you two were children. You were raised by a close friend of Vander’s and Benzo’s. You had grown close with the others, especially Powder, being best friends. Claggor was her older brother and it felt weird to go after him but then he pursued you. It was kept a secret from the others and still is. You didn’t know how to tell Powder you were dating Claggor at all. Not knowing how to bring it up. 

“Want to cook?” He proposes and you purse your lips, shrugging your shoulders as if to say “why not.” He stands up from his chair, going over to you to help you up. 

You lead the way to the kitchen. “Pizza?” You tilt your head, opening the fridge. “Sounds good.” He hums, getting the cutting board out along with the flour and oil. You grab the cold ingredients. 

“I hope it turns out better than when Mylo did it.” You comment, throwing the stuff on the counter. Claggor laughs, “I don’t think we’d have the skill to catch the pizza on fire and only burn the inside.” He shakes his head, remembering when Mylo woke everyone screaming that there was a fire. “Fun times.” You whisper. 

You leave the room momentarily to put on some music before joining back. “Alright, let’s start.” You roll your sleeves all the way up to wash your hands before actually touching anything. Claggor had already done that when you left the kitchen. 

The two of you start off together before you get distracted by the song that came on. Dancing around the room, pretending to smack your boyfriend’s butt. He didn’t mind taking care of the pizza, this usually happens when you cook. In the middle of it you’d get bored or distracted by something small. Forgetting about the ingredients on the counter. 

“Alright, did you preheat the oven?” He asks suddenly, already knowing the answer though. You forgot to do it. Your arms drop to your sides with a frightened expression. He bursts out laughing. “It’s okay, babe. I figured you wouldn’t have.” He kisses your forehead and you frown. “Rude.” You cross your arms and look away. “But true.” You mutter. He gets the oven started and you both watch it heat up, leaning on the opposite counter. 

“Sorry.” You say sadly, upset that you can’t have the pizza sooner. “It’s okay, I promise.” He snorts, pulling you into his chest, hugging you. “I’m so hungry.” You whine, tugging on the chest of his shirt. 

“Same, but it’s only going to take a couple minutes.” He says, but right as he says that the oven dings meaning that it’s done heating up. He lets me go and you  open the oven door for him as he grabs the pizza and sets it in. Shutting the oven. 

“Set the timer.” He points over to the tiny little timer next to the oven on your side. You set it to twenty-five minutes, clapping your hands after placing it down. Since you two had some time you decided to go back to the couch and cuddle for a little bit. You were snug between the cushion and partly on top of him. Legs tangled together. He pets your head as you stare at the coffee table. Only thinking about how good his fingers feel on your scalp. 

He stops after a couple minutes, staring down at you. “You’re very pretty, y’know.” He compliments, you lift your head to look at him. “Really? Say more.” You tease making him snicker. “I could compliment you all day.” His hands travel down to your waist, rubbing up and down. “I’d love to hear just a few.” You cross your arms on his chest to rest your chin on them. 

“You’re very smart even though you get easily distracted.” He begins and you pout. “Not off to a good start.” His body shakes under you with laughter. “Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes. 

“You are incredibly kind, I don’t understand why. Kind to people who don’t deserve it. Also just beautiful. Your inside matches the physicality and not a lot of people can say the same.” He tells you. “So nice on the eyes. More than nice. I love admiring you.” His hands start to get lower and lower on your back/ hips. “An amazing kisser.” He raspily says when his face gets closer to yours. 

“You think so?” You hum, eyes flickering between his lips back to his eyes. “I know so.” He pecks your lips. You slowly move your legs so that you are straddling him now. You butt right above his crotch. 

“Let’s make sure I’m truly right though.” He sits himself up a little more and kisses you. 

You moan into the kiss, lips cushioning one anothers. You press further onto him, gripping his shirt for dear life. “Mm, you drive me crazy.” He musters taking a small breather before getting right back to making out. His tongue licks your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You open your mouth allowing it. 

He takes it and battles with your own tongue. Going back and forth not even noticing the fact that the front door opened. 

You move his hand from your back down to your ass before bringing your own hand to the back of his neck. Not wanting to let him go. He grips your clothed flesh. You pull a little bit on his hairs on the back of his head on accident, getting a low groan in response, vibrating your lips. His free hand is holding you tightly by your waist. Making sure you were right against his torso. 

You do it for another time to take another breather, but really it was because you wanted to do something more. “Wow!” A voice laughs from the corner of the living room, startling you both. You jump off of Claggor. “In the family room!?” Ekko grips onto his stomach with laughter as Powder was trying to bite her own giggles. Claggor and your faces flushing tremendously. “I- sorry.” You put your head down, not believing that neither of you heard the door open or close. 

“We already knew about you two, don’t worry.” Powder puts her purse on the hook. “You guys made pizza?” Ekko excitedly asks, heading to the kitchen. 

“It’s not… done yet.” You say, not understanding why they’re home from their date not even an hour into it. “Oh can’t wait to eat it then.” He chuckles from the kitchen. Powder smacks her brothers back, plopping down on the couch. “Have fun there, didn’t ya.” She teases him. He rolls his eyes. 

“[Name], you okay? You look mortified?” She asks me and you turn to her, blinking slowly. “You knew?” 

“Of course we knew, you two are not discrete… whatsoever.” She smirks up at you. “And you just let me think you didn’t know!?” You cry out, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment. “Mm I knew you’d tell me when you wanted to or I’d “find out” like this.” She uses finger quotations then does a hand motion to the room. 

“At least we don’t have to hide it anymore, babe.” Claggor stands up, rubbing your back. “Doesn’t stop the shame I am feeling right now.” You turn into his chest, still hiding your face. 

“Bleh, babe.” Powder mocks, playfully gagging. “Oh you can’t be talking, sweetie.” Ekko sits down beside his girlfriend and you turn to see her face turn red. “Shut up.” She looks away. 

[emmyrosee]

Imagine having a kid with Sukuna and him urging you to have a day out after giving birth and taking care of the baby so you can have a fun stress free day with friends, and then him having a daddy daughter date. I thought it’s cute 🥰

oh… oh you KNOW HOW I FEEEEEEEEL ABOUT A DAD!AU (bro this got so long im sO SORRY-)

———

“Okay, there’s three bottles of milk in the fridge.”

“Okay.”

“And her melts are in the cabinet!”

“I know, I live here too.”

“Oh! And her stuffed lamb is her favorite to nap with-“

“Babe,” Sukuna laughs, wrapping an arm around you. In his other arm, Akiara is held securely, with an arm under her thighs to keep her perched against his chest, the pacifier in her mouth bouncing as she rattles a small toy in her hands. “I got this. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but if you need me, call me.”

“I’m not going to call you. Go have fun,” he encourages. Deep down, he knows you’re terrified to leave the baby with anyone for more than 15 minutes, always keeping her in close proximity and within earshot. The farthest you’ve gone is to shower while Sukuna indulges with tummy time, and it seems that every time, you’re surprised the house hasn’t crumbled in the brief period.

But Akiara is five months now. And your friends begged you to come shopping with them, missing you from outings with the group. Sukuna knows you trust him implicitly, but your separation anxiety is physically felt in the air this point. He pulls you in for a hug and presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “go. If the house catches on fire, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I can handle a few hours with my own spawn.” You tense slightly, and he offers you a stern look, “do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, but-“

“Then let me take care of everything. Go.”

You offer him a shaky sigh and make your way over to Akiara in his arms, “mommy loves you so much, okay?” You whisper. She babbles and grabs your hair, and Sukuna can see the nervous tears welling up. “I’ll be home in two hours tops.”

“Don’t time yourself,” he chuckles. “Go with your girlfriends. I gave you the credit card, go buy some clothes, or a necklace, or those expensive ass pastries you love so much.” Then, he nods his head towards the door, “scram. Before you cry your mascara off.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Okay-“ you blow them both a few kisses as you slowly make your way to the door, “I love you both so much. Behave. Oh, and nap time is at 1:30-“

“Babe. Go,” he snickers. He watches as you open the door and walk backwards out, your eyes focused on the two of them until the door shuts fully, keeping you outside and them on the inside. Sukuna sighs in relief and he adjusts Akiara to be held arms length, “you, stinky girl, need a bath,” he hums, and when the little girl coos, he brings her tiny body up to his mouth to playfully bite her chubby belly, hiccupy laughter filling the air briefly before he pulls a face of disgust and holds her back out. “Yeah. You stink. Like a lot.”

Sukuna wastes no time in setting up her bathtub and cleansing the tiny child with her soaps, letting her splash the warm water for some time until she reaches up for him. He barely gets her out of the tub and into a towel before his phone buzzes wildly. He sighs and answers it, “do I have to block your number?”

“No!” You whine. “I just wanted to see how things were going. I just got to the restaurant, wanted to make sure everything was okay before I ate.”

“Well the dog got out, I broke a vase and our kid went to college, so not great,” he says flatly, and when you huff in annoyance, and smirks, “everything is fine. She just had a bath, I’m trying to dry her off, and then we’re going to watch some of those dancing fruits she likes so much. Goodbye.”

“Wait- you bathed her before you fed her?” You ask.

He pulls his mouth into a straight line, “yes. Because she smelt like shit fart-“

“Sukuna!” You snap.

“If I have to bathe her again, I will. It’s not the end of the world,” he tries to soothe. When you click your tongue he chuckles again. “Okay. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” you say, ending the phone call. He pockets the device and looks down at his child. “Shes your mother alright,” he says. His daughter merely babbles and chews on her fingers. He gets her settled into a clean diaper before hoisting her back and onto his hip, making his way to the living room, resting her on his massive stomach and clicking on the TV for some entertainment. There’s a baseball game on, surely you won’t mind if he indulges while his baby lays on his chest.

The colors are good stimulation.

“Who you got money on?” He asks Akiara, who blinks eyes like yours up at him. When she smiles a gummy smile, he shrugs, “I don’t know. They’ve got a really good pitcher.” His thick fingers gently stroke up and down her spine, so gently and warm that he feels Akiara’s breathing slowly even out, his little girl falling asleep on his chest. He winces, he knows you’re not going to be thrilled about an early nap time, but who the hell is he to wake a sleeping baby?

A sleeping baby who sleeps for hours. You’re going to be pissed at him.

By the time the game is over, Akiara is still fast asleep on his chest, tiny hands balled into fists as her long lashes lay on her cheeks. Sukuna’s gotta give you credit, you haven’t called or texted since her bath, and now it’s well into four hours since you’ve left and you’re still out with your friends. He’s proud of you.

He’s not sure how long in total Akiara was sleeping for, but not long after the game, she slowly twitches awake, eyes fluttering open before fixating on him. He watches fondly as her body slowly wakes up, starting with her sleepy eyes that blink open, followed by her mouth which opens to let out the smallest yawn.

“Good morning, sleepy girl,” he hums, gently cradling the back of her head. “Was that a good nap?” Akiara merely thunks her head back against his chest in response. He kisses her head softly before standing up, shuffling to the kitchen to grab one of the prepared bottles from the fridge. He pops it in her mouth, where her tiny fists assist him in holding it. The child drinks the milk happily, wide eyes blinking as she downs the beverage hungrily. He smirks, “definitely my kid.”

With that, you come home.

He can tell by the jingling of keys you’re trying to hurry in as fast as possible, and he snickers at your struggle. Once the door finally creaks open, you haul your bags into the home and kick the door shut, smiling as your eyes land on your little family. “Hey you.”

“What’s up?” He hums, kissing you as you get close. “How was it?”

“It was great!” You squeal, and he can’t fight the way his heart squeezes at your excitement. “I got some new dresses, a pair of heels, some perfumes- oh, and I got you a cologne-“

“That’s my girl,” he says, but he can tell your attention is focused on the small girl he’s currently burping, and he shrugs, “you want to take over?”

When you nod sheepishly, he gently passes Akiara over to you, and you coo down at her, “hi, Mumma’s girl,” you coo, and she burps loudly in your face. “Well excuse you!”

Sukuna can’t fight the laughter that barks from his throat, snickers tearing through until you’re smiling and shaking your head, and he pulls you in for another hug.

He loves that his small family fits in his arms.

[grcvewctcherarchivedarchived]

He has been sleeping soundly, a dreamless, deep sleep rather than a period of time wandering the creations of the

Emmrich has known hard work through the whole of his life. He has known exhaustion. He has never felt it to the degree that he does some days after working with Gwen and her team. The work, though- it's so deeply worthwhile, that it's worth every moment of aching bones and eyes.

His bed is a rather ingenious contraption that can be pulled out of one of the bookshelves by pulling upon one of the skulls upon the left set of his shelves. The Lighthouse seems to have created the mechanism and idea of its' own volition, and he cannot help but to be impressed by it.

And it helps that the bed is deeply comfortable.

Still, it takes him a moment to stir when the bed shifts- and the touch to this hair is what finally drags his eyes open, blinking quickly and attempting to adjust to the pervasive darkness, staining the room like ink in water, making everything just slightly out-of-focus, -

Even his beloved herself. But as his gaze lights on her face, he sees the distress in those beautiful eyes. Hears the tremor in that voice, and he sits up quickly, careful not to collide with her. "Gwen? My darling what is the matter?" he asks, reaching to draw her closer to his chest, concern and that bone-deep affection warring in his head. "I'm here. I'm- are you alright, dearest?"

@scvcnofswords asked: The first sign that something isn't right is that there's no light whatsoever in Emmrich's wing of the Lighthouse- normally, even when he isn't there, Manfred is, so the place remains warm and well-lit. But not this time, though perhaps that shouldn't be the most alarming thing. But then there's the missive, left on the floor outside of Gwen's room in the middle of the night by a candlehop, the little creature wobbling away once its' left its burden where it was meant to. Written in a strange, dragging hand, she reads- 'Missing something? As are we. Find what you long for where watchers dare not tread. Trade something dear for something beloved.' No Manfred in the Lighthouse. No Emmrich. For a moment, the halls of the necropolis superimpose over the Lighthouse, twisting and warping, sending vertigo spinning through the mind. But those once-loved halls sway red, and sickeningly familiar laughter sounds- just for a moment. And then the dream fades away entirely. The light is on inside of Emmrich's wing.

She wakes with her face pressed against the cold floor of her quarters, her coverings twisted around her legs as she slowly comes to. The nightmares persist, but it's been so long since she's heard that sound. That sickening laughter that plagued her, shook her resolve to the core at the mere echo of it.

As she pulls herself up, the pain sets in; a red mark from the impact on her face blemishes her cheekbone, but having landed shoulder first into the unyielding surface below leaves her already exhausted body in worse shape. Worse yet, the manifestations in her mind swiftly breed anxiety as she looks around the room, cast in a blue hue from the aquarium that lends no comfort.

It was just a dream... It had to be.

And yet she's moving out of her quarters at a brisk pace, rounding her hallway only to sharply turn left right down his. The light above her shines in a muted purple as she pushes right through the door without a knock.

Her heart shudders in her chest, thudding against the confines of her ribcage like it may escape. Her knees crush into the mattress of his bed as she climbs onto it with perhaps more force than she'd intended, but the desperation to confirm his safety drives her movements.

Then the moment her hands reach the warmth of him, she lets out an shivered exhale of relief. His hair is soft between her fingers as she strokes through it, the other hand curving reverently around his shoulder so that she might pull him closer toward her.

"Em?" She whispers as wet violet pearls blink rapidly down at him, her fingers curling into his night shirt. " Dragul meu? " Croaks out of her throat, broken by the unassailable need to look into his eyes in this moment. Just to make sure.

[colorwastaken]

"We were Almost a Story" // Hwang In-ho x Fem. Reader

Chapter 1

Description:

" What if In-ho wanted to play in the games that happened in Season 1? What if he wanted to feel something again, anything? What if he begged Il-nam to let him play. And what if he met her.

She lost everything, just like him.

She joins the games just to survive. She is broken by what life has thrown her way.

But as the games progress, he heals some parts of her and mends them together. And her…just maybe, she has some effect on him also. "

■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●

Warnings: What if scenario, violence, murder, blood, betrayal, manipulation and lying, age gap (reader is around 32, In-ho is in his later 40s/early 50s)

■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●

A playlist to listen while reading the story:

"I'll be joining the games this year, so I'll need you to take full charge of them this year." Old Il-nam stood with arms behind his back, gazing outside the big window overlooking the city. His back facing the man in the black suit. "You can do that for me," turning around he smiled "Can't you, In-ho?"

A flurry of thoughts started swirling in In-ho's usually detached and clear mind. He knew of Il-nam's illness but this - it wasn't something he expected. Especially since he set his mind on asking him for permission for a long time to do this….So, for the first time since he let go of every emotion or feeling he had, he dared to care enough to voice his opinion of dissatisfaction.

"No, I'm afraid not this time."

The smile dropped right off of the old man's face, as confusion painted it. "What do you mean?"

"I-…Now that you mentioned it, I want to ask for permission to join the games also."

Il-nam's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh, and where does this sudden change of behavior come from?"

"Back when you talked about how you wanted to feel alive for one last time, before your decision of joining the games was final…It got me to think of whether I'd ever again get to - feel anything. Ever since - then - everything felt like an expanding void."

"Ah, my boy…From the moment I saw you in those games I knew you would be a great help in the games but - you never did enjoy any of them. And you didn't stay for the money either. Detached. You were always detached from it all. You are unlike anyone I've ever seen."

In-ho only stood there, his eyes fixated on the floor, d ace void of any emotion.

"But do you think this will help, huh? Spark up something inside of that shell of yours?" Il-nam fired back fiercely but was met only with silence. Turning his back to the other man, he faced the city view once again, sighing. "If I were to join, then who would be looking over the games and welcoming our guests - since both of us will be there playing the games."

"I'll have everything arranged. As for the VIPs, I can exist the games before they join us on the island. I - I can play the first set of games and since they they are to arrive before the last two games, I'll have just enough time to give them my full attention."

"And - you think four games will be enough to make you feel something?"

In-ho stayed quiet before he answered. "I don't know." He hesitated before confessing. "Please - allow me this at least. It doesn't sound ideal that we are both in the game at the same time, especially because of your condition….but I need this - now. Give me the permission. Since the day I joined you, I've never asked for anything and was always doing everything you ordered without a fail. Let me have this at least, this time. I need it."

"Mmm." Il-nam turned to face him. "Very well, let's have the fun of our lives then, In-ho."

■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●

A turquoise tracksuit, white shoes and a sole number tag 002. That's everything In-ho found himself with when he entered the room full of sleeping players. Bunk beds were full with the new batch of players. Old Il-nam was also somewhere there. Something about "wanting to feel the full experience", he said. That wasn't the case for In-ho. Getting sedated and having the guards manhandle him while being out cold didn't sound so enticing to him as much as it did to the old fool. He didn't like situations which he couldn't control at least in some way and being unconscious was one of them.

Find his way around the dimly lit room, he found his designated empty bed. As he slipped under the covers, his eyes closed and his mind drifted off in the land of dreams. Not like he ever had any anyway.

■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲���

The bright lights lit up the room, as a cheerful, enigmatic song started playing. Then a woman's voice sounded across the speakers. In-ho climbed out of his bed and observed other players as confusion painted their faces.

"What is this?"

"Where are we?"

"Where are our clothes, belongings?"

"Who dressed us in this?"

"Did you kidnap us?"

Those were all the questions he also once had.

Disinterest. None of this seemed interesting. Always the same reactions, same questions. So predictable. He sighed. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Then, minutes later, the guards entered the room, as per procedure.

"여러분 모두에게 진심으로 환영의 인사를 전하고 싶습니다. 여기 계신 모든 분들이 6일 동안 6개의 다른 게임에 참여하게 됩니다. 6개의 게임에서 모두 승리한 분들은 막대한 상금을 받게 됩니다."

[Transl: "I would like to extend a heartfelt welcome to you all. Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days. Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize."] One of the guards started announcing.

"그리고 왜 우리가 그걸 믿어야 합니까?"

[Transl: "And why should we believe that?"] One man yelled.

"Y-당신은 우리의 모든 물건을 가져가서 여기로 오게 하고, 우리를 잠재웠고, 그런 다음 우리를 이 이상한 창고로 데려왔어. 이제 우리가 가서 몇 게임 하면 돈을 주겠다고? 정말 우리가 그걸 살 거라고 기대하는 거야?"

[Transl: "Y-You took all our stuff and put us to sleep coming here, and then you brought us to this strange warehouse. Now you're saying you'll pay us if we go and play a few games? You really expect us to buy that?"] The other one joined.

"우리는 당신을 여기로 데려오면서 기밀을 유지하기 위해 마지못해 그 모든 조치를 취했습니다. 게임이 끝나면 모든 것을 돌려드리겠습니다."

[Transl: We reluctantly took all of those measures to maintain confidentiality as we brought you here. We'll return everything once the games are over.] The square guard - manager- answered.

"여러분 모두… 여러분 모두 마스크를 쓰고 있어요. 왜 그런 걸 쓰고 있어요?"

[Transl: "You all… you all have masks. Why are you wearing those things?"]

"우리는 직원의 얼굴과 개인 정보를 참가자에게 공개하지 않습니다. 이는 공정한 게임과 기밀을 보장하기 위한 조치입니다. 이해해 주시기 바랍니다."

[Transl: "We do not disclose the faces and personal information of our staff to any of the participants. It's a measure we take to ensure fair games and confidentiality. Please understand."]

"당신은 우리를 속였어요. 우리는 납치당했어요. 당신이 여기서 법을 어겼다는 걸 아무도 모르게 하기 위해 아무리 변명해도 돼요. 그걸 만회하려면 뭔가 더 필요할 거예요."

[Transl: "You tricked us. We were kidnapped. You can make as many excuses as you want to make sure nobody knows you broke the law in here. If you're going to make up for that, then we're gonna need something more."] One tall man stepped forward, confidently holding his stand with the help of the knowledge he possessed.

"플레이어 218, 조상우. 나이 46세. 조이인베스트먼트에서 팀2의 전 팀장. 고객들의 잔고에서 돈을 빼돌려 파생상품과 선물옵션에 투자해 실패. 현재 손실 6억 5천만 원."

[Transl: "Player 218, Cho Sang-woo. Age, 46 years. Former team leader of Team Two at Joy Investments. Siphoned money off from his clients' balances, then invested it in derivatives and futures options and failed. Current loss, 650 million won."] The masked manager started listing the personal information of the man who stepped up to them a moment prior, rendering him speechless.

Then a long list of some of the contestants started to show up on the big screen that lowered from the ceiling, as the masked guard listed their personal information and the amount of debt they were in.

"이 방에 서 있는 모든 사람은 재정적 파탄 직전에 살고 있습니다. 여러분은 모두 갚을 수 없는 빚을 지고 있습니다. 우리가 처음 여러분을 찾아갔을 때, 여러분 중 단 한 명도 우리를 믿지 않았습니다. 하지만 여러분도 알다시피, 우리는 게임을 했고, 약속한 대로 여러분이 이기면 돈을 주었습니다. 그리고 갑자기, 여기 있는 모든 사람이 우리를 믿었습니다. 전화를 걸어 자발적으로 이 게임에 참여했습니다. 그러니 이게 전부입니다. 여러분에게 마지막 선택의 기회를 드리겠습니다. 채권자에게 쫓기며 옛날의 우울한 삶으로 돌아갈 것인가요? 아니면 행동해서 우리가 여기서 제공하는 이 마지막 기회를 잡을 것인가요?"

[Transl: "Every person standing here in this room is living on the brink of financial ruin. You all have debts that you can't pay off. When we first went to see each of you, not a single one of you trusted us. But as you all know, we played a game, and as we promised, gave you money when you won. And suddenly, everyone here trusted us. called and volunteered to participate in this game of your own free will. So this is it. I'll give you one last chance to choose. Will you go back to living your old and depressing lives getting chased by your creditors? Or will you act and seize this last opportunity we're offering here?"] In the thick silence of the room, only murmuring and whispering echoed, bouncing off of the walls.

"야! 여기서 무슨 게임을 할까?"

[Transl: "Hey! Which games are we playing here?"]

"공정하게 경쟁하기 위해, 우리는 경기에 대한 정보를 미리 공개할 수 없습니다."

[Transl: "In order to play fair, we cannot disclose any information about the games ahead of time."]

"한 가지 질문이 있습니다. 우리가 이기면 얼마나 받을까요?"

[Transl: "One question. If we win, just how much do we get?"] Player 456 asked.

As the guard raised up a remote, a lottery-kind music started playing, as a piggy bank lowered from the ceiling. "당신의 상금은 매 게임마다 거기에 누적됩니다. 우리는 첫 번째 게임이 끝난 후에 모든 사람에게 금액을 공개할 것입니다. 만약 당신이 참여하고 싶지 않다면, 지금 당장 알려주십시오."

[Transl: "Your prize money will be accumulated in there after every game. We will disclose the amount to everyone after the first game is over. If you do not wish to participate, then please let us know at this time."]

And as the crowd started to quiet down and line up in two rows, the signing of the contracts began. But there was one person who's breathing started to pick up and she frantically looked around not knowing what to do. A girl in her early thirties, a foreigner who barely knew the most basic sentences for conversation in Korean. The ones she forced herself to learn on Duolingo before her trip to Korea. How did she end up here though, you ask? Well…when she found out her parents died in a car accident while she was abroad…while she was having fun…wanting to get some air, some space…wanting to "see the world" before settling down and getting married…One night of gambling and drinking till she couldn't remember even her name, led her to spending all money she had on herself. Apparently, that night, she spent a night with a man who took it all. She signed off her rights and body, her life, to that man. Who he was, she did not know. Only that he was very dangerous. When she woke up, he told her everything she owned him, including herself. But she couldn't accept that, so she run away. The man sent his lackeys after her, demanding for either an unimaginable amount of money or her life. She since she didn't have any money…it was her life then that he wanted to take. So that one night, while looking for a place to sleep, she was passing through the subway in Seoul when a man in suit approached her. Her was handsome and spoke perfect English to her surprise. He asked her to play a game with him for some money. And while she knew this was a great opportunity to earn at least some, without getting a job and gaining unwanted attention, she shook her head saying it'll never be enough to cover what she'd got herself into. But the man only smiled and took out of his pocket a card with a number.

"Call this number." He said. "There's a competition of a ton of different games, and the cash prize is more than enough to cover your debt."

And that's how she found herself in this mess. But if she had known she'd have been practically kidnapped and brought into this place that looks like an asylum, she'd have never called that number. Especially if had she known that the games would be in Korean, with no English translation or subtitles.

As the masked man was talking, from the moment he entered, she was nervously waiting for them to start talking in English. Anything, even just a single word. Panic started to settle in her, as minutes passed with every word being in Korean. As people started to line up, her heart rate picked up. She didn't know what was happening.

So she did the only thing she could at that moment. Ask for help. "Excuse me - d-do you…can you explain to me what's happening?" Her voice trembled as she approached the closest player to her. They only shrugged her off, muttering some words in Korean.

Starting to sweat as her heart dropped to her stomach, the girl trembled as she staggered to another person, asking for help. The woman that she approached tried to hear her out but shook her head only with a saddened expression on her face in a way of saying "I don't understand you." Fear filled her whole being as she froze for a few seconds, realizing no-one here knew English. As tears sprung up her eyes, her voice started to raise uncontrollably, as she raced through the crowd of people. She was now shouting and hoping that at least one person here knew English to some extent. "Please, does anyone speak English here?!"

In-ho was watching everything unfold from the sides. From the square manager coming in and listing the rules of the game and players' debts, to people lining up to sign the contract. He was waiting to be the last in line to sign it. But that is when he spotted some frantic movement in the sea of people. Going from one player to the other, becoming more nervous each passing second. This piqued In-ho's interest. After all, he did come here to see something new. So he got closer and joined the crowd. What he heard shocked him to say the least. The woman. She was asking for help - or rather - someone that could speak English. A foreigner? He huffed. What was a foreigner doing in Korean Squid Games? His eyes followed her every movement, gaze steady as an iron fist and sharp as a knife. Narrowed, like that of a hawk. He then turned and walked away.

And as the two straight, clear lines of players formed, the woman was left alone on the side, and she tried to calm her erratic breathing. She didn't know what to do. Should she join them even though she didn't know what was happening? Her hands fumbled nervously as with unsure steps she approached the back of the column. Still looking around like a lost puppy, she still stood a few steps away from the line. That's when she felt a firm grasp on her elbow as she got dragged into the line. Shock painted her features as her head snapped up to look at the person that stood now right besides her. The man on her right side stood tall, his gaze focused straight ahead. The woman waited for him to say anything, since she was at loss for words.

After a thick silence spread between them, the girl swallowed hard. Then the man's voice cut through the quiet atmosphere of the room like a cold blade. But to her, it was the most beautiful thing she could hear right now.

"Calm your breathing. You shouldn't show your weakness. Not here." His gaze met hers. "The contract. Sign it if you wish to play in the games."

The woman's eyes widened so much she thought they'd pop out of their sockets, as her lips opened slightly. English. This man was speaking English. And fluently at that! So listening to his tip, she licked her dry lips, wetting them as she started to relax. "Thank you. I-I didn't think anyone here spoke English."

He exhaled besides her, as his lips curled into a smile. Never the real one though. All the emotions he was showing were fake, at the end of the day, anyway. "You're welcome. I hardly did anything."

"No I - if you hadn't showed up…I would have been completely lost." The girl brushed her hair off her sweaty forehead. "Would it - be okay if I kept close to you during the games, at least until I catch the drift?" She looked up at his expectantly and pleadingly. "I promise I won't bother you."

The man once again glanced at her, without moving his head an inch. "Sure."

And soon enough they were next in the line. He gently pushed the small of her back, motioning for her to go in front of him. As she came face to face with the masked guard, she swallowed, and looked at the paper in front of her. All Korean letters. She understood nothing. Was this smart? Signing a contract without not knowing what was on it? No, never. She could be off selling her organs and herself for them to do as they pleased, for all she knew. But - they needed this money. If not for anything but to make her parents' last wish a reality. For her to live a good life and get married. Have a happy family with lots of children. And if some jerk who used her wants the money, she'll get him that money. She'd do it to survive, even she'd rather spit in his face. So, she made up her mind and with a smooth stroke, signed her name on the contract.

As she stepped to the side, the man behind her was the last one to sign the papers. As he finished, he locked his eyes with the guard in front, his eyes holding all the words and emotions that his face no longer possessed. Then he turned and saw the woman from before. His mind was void of anything as he stepped closer to her and stayed at her side. And the girl welcomed him with a small shy but grateful smile.

The pair stood still besides one another as they waited for the instructions. "I'm Y/n by the way." She smiled up at him.

His eyes widened only subtly at the sudden gesture. Stupid woman, she shouldn't try to connect with anyone or she'll get attached. But he decided to play along. She won't survive the first game either way. "Young-il. Nice to meet you."

In-ho was met with one of the brightest smiles, as the woman besides him tilted her head. "Please take care of me, Oppa!

"Mwolago - What did you say?" He scoffed as a chuckle left him.

She pouted, confused. "Isn't that what you say when showing respect towards your elders here? Hoping they'd accept you and take good care of you?"

Unbelievable. "Hah, is that what you've learned alongside those basic Korean greeting phases from earlier. Where did you learn it from? The back of the cereal packaging that provided a guide into Korean basics, preferably with a "earn a free trip to Korea" on the front, painted in colorful letters?"

"Huh, look at you! So, you were just watching me the whole time? How much did you hear?!" She huffed stunned.

"Most of it." He threw a playful shrug her way.

"You…just you make fun of me." She laughed, waving her finger in front of him. "And just so that you sleep peacefully this night, all of the letters were red."

"Haha, alright." In-ho actually laughed at this, amused at the woman's antics. He raised his hands in surrender.

The sound of the masked guard speaking broke their little bubble. "첫 번째 게임이 곧 시작됩니다. 저희를 팔로우해 주세요."

[Transl: "The first game is about to begin. Please, follow us."]

As the players exited the room, they entered a long hallway that led into a corridor of passageways. They were met with a maze of stairs and walls painted in all kinds of bright colors. All the players looked around, amazed at the vastness of the space.

Y/n huffed after a few minutes of endlessly climbing the stairs. "I think my legs are about to give out."

In-ho's eyes instinctively looked over his shoulder. "You came to play the games while being this unathletic?" He scoffed, his voice betraying his fake, mocking amusement. "You won't get even get to the finish line."

"The girl gasped, pretending to be offended. "Hey, you," she playfully hit his waist and then took a hold of his tracksuit. That made In-ho stop for a second, before facing her.

"Just - just give me a second," she tried to draw breath, "-or two." Gasping, she propped one hand onto her knee while the other still clung onto In-ho.

Seconds passed and when she raised her head once more, her eyes were met with an outstretched hand. The girl's eyes snapped to the man's faces. His cold, piercing eyes, stared straight into her soul. "Come. We have no time to waste. The guards will come for us if we stay behind." Dazed, as if his eyes held her in a trance of sort, Y/n took his hand. Pulling up, they continued to climb the stairs, hand in hand.

■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●

After passing through a few more corridors, the crowd walked into a clearing with a few monitors set the walls of the each column. The voice of the woman played once again, as she announced to stand and pose for a picture. Y/n and In-ho - or rather - Young-il, were one of the last batch of players to enter.

"What is happening?" Y/n leaned in closer to In-ho, not quite understand the situation fully.

"They need to take our pictures." He replied without looking at her.

"Oh…" Her gaze landed on a player with a purple hair. A small crowd gathered around him, begging for an autograph. Moments later, they positioned in front of the camera to take a group photo.

"Is this guy famous in Korea or something?" She questioned In-ho once again, like he had all the answers.

"I don't know honestly. I think he's a rapper or something like that…Not something I'm really interested in."

"How do you not hear about someone if they are famous and all over the media? Didn't take you for that old of a man." She scoffed.

In-ho's emotionless face broke at her words as shocked flooded him. She left him speechless and, he hated to admit, somewhat embarrassed. "I'm - I'm not that old." He pouted, shaking his head, lost in thought.

Their little conversation was interrupted by the red guard, as he came towards the purple haired fellow. "Only one person can take the picture."

"But please, you took all our phones, can we just take one?" The other players pleaded.

"No." The guard said as he made a X gesture with his arms.

"I guess, they aren't aloud to do that." Y/n made a remark.

Soon, it was Y/n's turn to pose for the picture. She thought of smiling but this whole predicament she was in didn't make her want to smile at all. She somehow had a bad feeling about all this. Her being part of games held in a foreign language was only the start of her misfortune. So, her photo ended up being a serious expression, with her eyebrows just slightly curved inwards.

■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●

The big door opened, revealing a giant open court. Y/n had to squint says, only to see at the very end a big doll and a finish line. As the players slowly filled up the space, the female voice sounded on the speakers once again.

"첫 번째 게임은 다음과 같습니다. 무궁화 꽃 이 피었 습니다 를 플레이하게 됩니다. "it"가 "녹색불"를 외치고, "it"가 "빨간불"를 외치면 앞으로 나아갈 수 있습니다. 그 후에 움직임이 감지되면 탈락합니다.

[Transl: "Here is the first game. You will be playing Red Light, Green Light. You are allowed to move forward when "it" shouts out, "Green Light," "it" shouts, "Red Light." If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated."]

"무궁화 꽃 이 피었 습니다 우리가 어렸을 때 놀이��에서 했던 일?"

[Transl: "Red Light, Green Light The thing we did as kids the playground?"] Some players whispered between themselves.

Y/n got anxious again, once she heard the voice in Korean probably saying the rules of the game. She hated the fact that she couldn't understand a word. Cold dread enveloped her as a seed of doubt dropped into her thoughts, like a small drop falling into the already full glass, causing the water to spill over the rim. What if Young-il lies to her at some point? It's - possible. She hated to admit it but she barely knows him. She just met him. Hitting herself mentally at thrusting a first man that gave her a helping hand in this nightmare. Why did she sign that contract if she couldn't understand any of the rules?! To trust the word of a stranger. Absurd. She really has lost it, after all.

The girl stiffened as Young-il caught up with her and stood right beside her. Although not confirming it was him, she already knew. He made his presence known. She could distinguish him, his presence, the aura around him even with a blindfold on. All of that from just one interaction - the moment he grabbed and walked her into the line. It felt the same now, his presence, just colder. Her gaze avoided his, as she casted her eyes down.

In-ho walked into the familiar game setting. A few steps away, he spotted the woman and approached her. He saw her mood drop drastically down, as she made no remark as he walked up to her, no bright smile of greeting she flashed him with when telling her name. He stared at her, analyzing. Then his gaze met the Doll, thinking about the game. Suddenly, strong feelings started to bubble from deep within him. A hot, burning instinct flooded his heart and brain. Should he tell actually help this woman? She couldn't understand their language. She wouldn't make it past the first game. One liability down. The only way she does is if he explains the rules. Should he? And even if he did, even if she knew the rules for each game, she didn't look capable enough to pass any of them. She wore her heart on her sleeve - that was obvious. Especially to an observing man, such as In-ho. He looked at her once again. His eyes holding the weight of his next decision, or rather heart - but he didn't have one, not anymore anyway. Nothing reached that feeble piece of flesh - not after he build up a dam for the stream that was already cut off.

Moments passed, as he stared at her. Stared through her, as if searching for her soul. Anything that would make him not do this. And he saw it and it made him feel conflicted. Some deep part of him felt bad for the girl. Maybe even guilty and disgusted for potentially being the cause of her death in the very first game. A bubbling feeling of wanting to throw up simmered in the deepest parts of his being. Not enough for him to notice but enough to evoke emerging feelings of guilt. Something unknown pulled him towards helping her but his hardened heart also couldn't care less.

He faced the big Doll once again as words flew out of his mouth. "The first game is red light-green light. Do you know what it is? Have you played it before or do you need me to explain the rules to you?" Maybe he wanted to give her a chance to stay alive - at least for now.

His voice cut through her like a needle. Her head snapped into his direction, although she still avoided to look at him. After a moment of not hearing the bubbly woman's response or any kind of reaction, he finally casted his gaze into her direction. Seeing she barely acknowledged his words, his eyebrows lifted. "Are you alright?" He tilted his head, bending down slightly, trying to meet her gaze.

Reluctantly, the woman's eyes met In-ho's. She tried to put on a small smile. "Yeah. I-I know the game."

In-ho stayed in that position for a few seconds as he studied her face. He straightened himself up nodding but not buying the act at all. "Okay." But, just to be sure, reminded her of the rules of the game. "When that tall Doll starts to sing, it's a green light for us to walk. When it turns around and stops singing, you need to not move, alright?" He flinched internally, as he realized that he said something the female speaker didn't listed as one of the rules.

"Yeah, okay." Her gaze was, once again, locked onto the ground and her voice melancholic, almost sad.

His gaze flicked to her, watching to see her reaction. But he was relieved that she made no comment on his blunder. In-ho reminded himself that she couldn't understand the voice in Korean in the first place. That's when it hit him. He could tell her anything and she'd believe it.

His expression hardened as his hand gripped her bicep. "No, I'm being serious. Do. Not. Move. No matter what happens." That is when she met his eyes. His, hard, dark eyes, worked as an intimidation tool but we're also hypnotizing, pulling you into a trance.

And her eyes…Oh, the way she looked at him in that moment. Her eyes looked like that of a doe. Big and innocent, shocked and wide, staring up at him. "Do you understand?" His voice got lower. But all she got do was slowly nod as her brain lost the connection to any common self. She was focused on him alone.

His grip loosened on her as the doors closed and players lined up on the start line. The game was about to start.

"Let's go." In-ho let go of the Y/n and walked past. The girl stood there, her head still in the same position, looking up, at now empty space, that In-ho's head was in only seconds ago. Snapping out of whatever that was just now, she shook her head and walked to the crowed.

Somehow in those few seconds, she lost In-ho from her sight. She looked around, initially thinking he'd be right beside her. Well, no matter. She knew what the game was. That was what mattered. She would find him after this game. And so, the start of the first game was announced.

■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●■▲●

A/N

So? Thoughts? It was a plan to post this as a one shot but I decided to still post it as a multiple chapter story AND as a oneshot once I finish. This is my first In-ho fic, I hope you like it. Please do leave comments, they inspire me to write more.

Also, the little easter egg that I put in this is, if you haven't noticed, whenever the POV is focused on In-ho and mentions Y/n, I almost always wrote "woman" instead of "girl" or something else. Just to show in a way that In-ho sees her as a woman and not a little girl, even though he is younger than her around 20 years.

Words: 5149

[turn3tifosi]

FROM THE ANGELS

i. THE FERRARI DREAM

Hungary, 2022

The voice of Alex Jacques echoes like the end of the world, circling the track as the cars scream into the final lap. Ausilia de Angelis, Ferrari’s young lioness, dances with destiny, carving her name into the air, leading the race like it was always hers. The past six races bow before her, and she’s hungry—hungry for the points she’s about to steal from Felipe Drugovich, the man who chases shadows in the championship.

And then it happens.

The world cracks open. She crosses the line, and the earth stands still. Seven. Seven times the victor. The Prema pit explodes, red and white and joyous. Theo Pourchaire—fourth to second—follows her ghost, and Ayumu Iwasa, eyes like fire, claims third.

The circuit breathes out. The race is over. Spa waits on the other side of summer.

"Oh my God, that was fun!" Ausilia’s voice is a storm, a whirlwind, as she crashes into her team, arms and laughter and victory all tangled up. She turns, the chaos in her chest finding its rhythm, and she leaps—into the arms of Lucrezia Cattaneo, the woman who believes in her like she’s gravity. "I’m so proud of you, tesoro mio," Lucrezia whispers, but it’s not really a whisper. It’s the sound of the sun setting on a perfect day.

Later, after the world has quieted and the night has taken over, they drive back to the hotel. The road is dark, but there’s light between them. “You’re going to Maranello this week?” Lucrezia asks, her eyes fixed ahead, searching for something only she can see. Ausilia, for once, doesn’t have the answer. She shrugs, letting the silence fill the car like water in a glass. “It’s the start of the summer break. I’d rather not see their faces, not yet. They haven’t called.” But she knows, somewhere deep, that the call is coming, and when it does come, it won’t be joyous.

Summer Break, 2022

Ausilia never expected a calm summer break, not after what she and Lucrezia had set into motion. The summer break was supposed to be a breath, a pause—but the first day, and already the phone rings, and the mood shatters like glass.

“Have you terminated your contract with Ferrari?” The voice on the other end is calm, too calm.

“Not yet,” Ausilia replies, her voice steady, though the storm inside her builds. “I haven’t been to Maranello since last Monday. Why?”

A chuckle from the other side, low and knowing. “You were right about them. I’m at the gala, and certain Italians are whispering in corners, telling potential sponsors that you’re only winning because Prema’s given you the faster car. They’re trying to sway me, push me toward Ferrari, and away from you.”

Ausilia’s eyes narrow, the fire beneath her cool words sparking. “Any team gives the faster car to the better driver. If they’re saying that, it just proves they know I’m the better one.”

There’s a beat of silence, the tension thick even across the distance, then the question comes, sharp and decisive. “Should we contact your future team for the sponsorship deal?”

She lets the question hang in the air, measuring it against the chaos she knows is coming. “Not yet,” she finally says, each word a deliberate step. “There’s going to be drama this summer. Let’s not tip our hand too soon.”

As she’s about to end the call, another ring cuts through the quiet, the name on the screen making her groan. Marco Matassa (FDA Head). Of course. The devil always knows when to appear. “Looks like I’ll be heading to Maranello sooner than I thought.”

She cuts the call, lets the phone ring unanswered until it stops. A message pops up, cold as a command: “Drive to Maranello tomorrow. The team wants to discuss your future. Bring your manager.”

And just like that, the storm begins.

Ausilia woke early the next morning, shedding the Ferrari red for something that spoke in whispers rather than shouts—something fashionable, defiant in its simplicity. The day held a certain weight, and she dressed for the part, not as a driver but as something else, something more.

She left her apartment and picked up Lucy, who was waiting with a smile that knew too much. “Excuse they’ll use. Just one. Closest guess gets an extra slice of pizza tonight,” Lucy offered, a game to pass the time, to cut through the tension that hung between them. Ausilia laughed, the sound sharp and bright in the morning light.

As the engine roared to life, Ausilia waved her hand with mock drama, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “There’s just no seats in F1.”

Lucy turned serious, eyes narrowing as she thought it through. “I don’t think they’ll use something so blatant. They’re not that stupid, are they? My guess—something about how F2 and F1 are worlds apart, and just because you dominated F2 doesn’t mean you’ll succeed in F1.”

Ausilia’s laugh came again, this time darker, edged with something bitter. “If they go with that, they’d be proving just how stupid they are.”

The drive from Modena to Maranello was only half an hour, but it felt longer, like the road itself was stretching out, trying to delay the inevitable. When she finally pulled into Ferrari’s parking lot, she did it in a Porsche, not a Ferrari, each moment of defiance deliberate, each choice a statement. No team polo, no red, no shield. Just a rival’s car gleaming in the enemy’s territory.

She knew what she was doing, knew the risks. But if this was the end, she would go out on her own terms. What better way to say goodbye than to flaunt a rival's machine when she had spent her time as a Ferrari Driver Academy member refusing to touch any of their own?

As Ausilia slid into her seat at the head of the table, Marco Matassa, the head of FDA, and Mattia Binotto, Scuderia Ferrari’s Team Principal, rose in a slow, deliberate dance of formality.

The room crackled with tension. The Porsche in the parking lot was an unwelcome guest in a sea of Ferraris, a silent proclamation of defiance. Everyone knew who it belonged to.

Ausilia, draped in dramatic anticipation, knew exactly what was coming. But drama was her craft; she was here to see how they would script this act.

“Apologies for the Porsche. Lucy’s car is in the shop.” She offered a smile, disarmingly serene, as if it might soften the blows to come. If these men weren’t bracing for the conversation ahead, they might have laughed, dismissed it as a trivial matter.

“You can sit down, you know,” Lucy’s voice was a gentle chime, the kind of sound that seemed to make the air around them a little lighter.

Marco gestured to Mattia, urging him to take a seat while he remained standing, his eyes locked onto Ausilia. “You are an incredible talent for Ferrari.” The words were like a well-rehearsed lie, and Ausilia almost laughed, because of course she was a talent—but not for them, not anymore. She smiled back, wide-eyed and innocent.

“Unfortunately,” Mattia cut in, his impatience a jagged edge, “we don’t have any seats in Formula One. Carlos and Charles are locked in until the end of 2024.”

“The pizza’s mine,” Ausilia whispered to Lucrezia, the words a secret promise as she turned her attention back to Marco and Mattia. “Haas have a seat, don’t they?”

An uneasy silence settled over the room, the kind that lingers after a question too sharp. Marco finally responded, his voice carrying a tone of practiced indifference. “Haas won’t take another FDA driver. They don’t want to be seen as Ferrari’s junior team.”

Lucy’s eyes sharpened, her voice cutting through the pretense. “So despite Ausilia’s domination of F2 and F3, she’s to remain grounded? What kind of academy can’t even pave the way for its own drivers?”

Marco took a breath, as if steadying himself. “It might be better for her career if she’s not branded with Ferrari. Let’s terminate the contract—it will make it easier for her to find a seat elsewhere.”

Lucy winced, her patience fraying. Did these men really think they could pull the wool over their eyes? Getting an F1 seat without an F1 team backing her was going to be a fight, especially as a woman.

But Lucy mirrored Ausilia’s façade of ignorance, agreeing with the men with a tone that dripped with feigned logic. “Well, at least you’re being practical.”

Ausilia walked into Ferrari headquarters as an FDA driver and left as just another driver. The weight of the label lifted from her shoulders, but a shadow of sadness lingered. Despite her plans for a Formula One career, a part of her—the part that had dreamed of driving for Scuderia—felt the sting of loss.

[velvees-archive]

Tags: Love Confessions, Getting Together, Found Family, Miles POV, Insecurity

and more!

this is my day 16 submission for @fictober-event, and my late contribution to unnecessary feelings day…which passed two days ago. woops!

Prompt: “No, I’m not okay”

inspired by my tumblr post here!

An errant strand of jet black hair bobs to and fro as he pores over Miles’ face. "Edgeworth? You with me?" He’s surrounded by an emulsified blurb of noises: easy laughs, accompanying shouts, a beat. Miles isn’t feeling quite up to a lengthy conversation about his rationale, not when he’s insisting to himself that Wright is happy, he is happy, that the fire brewing inside of him is a fluke, and that perhaps it was time for him to move forward with his therapy sessions— “I was asking why you did it.” If he were to tell Wright that he already knew the answer: that he'd been spurred into action due to his creed and his pursuit of justice, he knows he’d only be propagating a half-truth—a secret by omission. In other words, a lie. “I wanted to help you,” he says, earnestly. Wright's shoulders rise and fall, an even rhythm. He takes a deep breath in, and the silence scatters. “Why?” - Miles Edgeworth does not long for more than he’s already been given. Sometimes, though, he thinks about it.

a few days ago, i proposed that narumitsu hits even harder when miles is the one hopelessly pining over phoenix following his disbarment. i also happened to want to explore phoenix working through the “prosecutor miles edgeworth chooses death” fiasco in jfa.

hence, this fic.

fic screenshots:

misc commentary/musings under the cut! :)

one day, i’ll stick a fic landing. it won’t be today, but one day...

very fun idea that became more convoluted as i tried to parse through dialogue, leaving me with 3 pages of unused scenes and dialogue exchanges. i can’t tell if i really hate this fic or really really hate this fic. regardless, it’s out there now, so no takebacksies :)

i’m happy with how the setting came out though! purposefully isolating miles from the rest of the group while they were in the karaoke bar was dirty work on my part but necessary for setting the tone of the story. phoenix is a bit mean here but i think that smarminess is integral to phoenix wright, especially when he’s confronted with his repressed abandonment/dependence issues.

did i sacrifice characterization for liberal dialogue choices though? absolutely!

about the title. it was originally supposed to be called “kill the lights” but i switched it to save me a seat because i think it gets the point across better!

i still don't think i've gotten the angst worms out, mostly because this fic doesn't follow my narumitsu getting together hc + the way i feel their characters are in canon. miles is a bit too self aware and eloquent w his feelings, while phoenix is too nice and too mean at the same time. there's always the next fic tho, thankfully! and maybe once i’ve gotten characterization down, i can share my actual hc

i have a few other fics i want to pump out before i start playing the great ace attorney and my lack of object permanence catches up on me. i’m thinking of making a low stress fic (lie, writing is never low stress for me) from an outsider’s pov. you’ll never guess who the outsider is tho, i promise

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for assuming my coworker is a toxic partner?

I, 22M, work in a big chain restaurant with a bunch of people my age. Recently, one of the bussers who’s been at this branch since it opened two years ago (I’m a relatively newer higher but not by much, just not og staff) turned 19 and revealed that he has started dating one of the other servers that he’s been friends with for a while, let’s call the two of them Busboy (19 ftm), and Server (21 MtNB)

I’ve got nothing wrong with Busboy. He’s a hard worker, a little odd sometimes, and he’s been with our location for a long time. He and Server are both original staff members and the two have done a lot together, especially after Busboy turned 18 in December of 2022. Server set up Busboy’s first tattoo appointment, they go to the movies all the time, and at work they keep things friendly but professional. Honestly, we all kinda thought they were already dating before Busboy told everyone

Recently, Server got fired because of a stupid management rule about tables that walk out without paying. It sucked, but Server wasn’t really the best waiter anyways and there wasn’t really any lost love. Another waiter, let’s call him Closer (24M), and his wife (23F) have started hosting game nights at their apartment with Closer’s sister and some of her friends. As far as I know, Busboy and Server have been frequent attendants and tbh it looks like a lot of fun. Closer sent a general invite to the work group chat and me and some other coworkers decided to head over tonight

When we got there, it was fine at first. We were mixing drinks (no drinks for Closer’s wife since she’s pregnant or Busboy since he’s underaged) and playing games when I see Busboy take Server’s drink from them and tell them to stop drinking. Server sort of nodded real small like and I don’t know, it set off an alarm bell in my head. To paint a picture, Busboy is a fit young white guy even if he doesn’t pass that well while Server is a fat Mexican person with a lot of acne and stuff like that. Busboy’s also been known to cite his alleged disabilities to get out of work from time to time and he’s picky when ordering around the other bussers at work. Regardless of him being a Trainer, it’s just off putting yk?

I keep watching them before I asked Server if they wanted to be on my team for a card game we all wanted to play. Server looked to Busboy for permission and Busboy gave me a strange look before slowly agreeing. When Server and I were off by ourselves, I asked them if everything was okay. They didn’t really give me an answer, just sort of shrugged and said that it wasn’t anything I can do. Can you see where I’m going with this?

While we played the game, Busboy got very loud and obnoxious, saying inside jokes that only he, Closer and Server would know from when they opened our restaurant location, frequently interrupted my team and chastised me for offering Server some of my lemondrop drink, saying: “can’t you see that they clearly don’t want any?”

And here’s where I may be the asshole, I said: “How about you shut up and ask him what he wants?”

I know, I misgendered Server on accident, and I corrected myself in the moment, but the room went silent and Busboy got really confused and said: “But i did?”

I asked him: “When? They’ve spent all night stuck to your side, it looks like you’ve got them on a leash.”

Closer made an inappropriate joke to lighten the mood, but Busboy looked really confused and kept asking everyone if that’s what it looked like. I said: “yeah, it does. [Server], what do you want to do?”

Server said; “I don’t know, man, what are we upset about?”

But when I tried to explain that Busboy was acting really suspicious all night, everyone started telling me that I was wrong and that this wasn’t true, that Busboy’s always like this. It didn’t make any sense to me! I asked if Busboy always micromanages how Server drinks and Closer said; “no, but it’s [Server]’s turn to drive the two of them home. Usually [Busboy] drives and it’s a long drive, but today they’re in [Server]’s car.”

I ended up leaving pretty soon after and I feel really silly about the whole thing. So, tumblr, Aita?

What are these acronyms?

[dowagerqueenofhell]

3. Weekend at Bobby's

3. Weekend At Bobby’s

One Year Later

Much had happened since the deal. Lucifer and Michael were thrown into Lucifer’s cage by Sam who fell with them. Dean resigned himself to go and live with Lisa and Ben as he’d promised his brother. Castiel went back to heaven. Bobby got back to being the helper of all hunters around. Sam came back, but he’s been working with his mother’s family ever since. As for Lane, she worked part-time at one of the Sioux Falls middle schools as a substitute for the English teachers while living at both Jodie’s and Bobby’s. They hadn’t heard of Crowley for ages…

*•*•*•*•*•*

Lane was working a shift instead of a sixty-year-old, pervy teacher when she decided she’d go visit Bobby. She hadn’t seen him in a week and she wanted some news on the boys. She got in her car and drove to his house as soon as the school bell rang, feeling like a teenage girl who visits her cool uncle once in a while. It was theoretically true. 

Shearrived there to see a fresh patch of concrete in the backyard —she always got in by the back door. She frowned and made her way inside, feeling eerie a bit. 

“Bobby?” Lane called, somehow knowing he’d be in the basement. 

“Down here!” came his muffled voice from downstairs. 

She set my bag down on the kitchen table and went there, on my way she heard a woman scream. Lane figured he was trying to exorcise a demon. She found a girl, barely older than her, tied to a chair in a Devil’s trap.

“Yo,” she greeted him simply.

“Hey, what’d you need?” he asked gruffly. 

Lane was taken aback by his harsh tone. “Er nothing, just thought I’d say hi. Help around, maybe… Are you okay?”

He looked at her and sighed. “Sorry, I just… Can’t get anything done with everyone interrupting because they need something. Rufus even came to ask for help burying a body, for God’s sake!“ 

Lane blinked at him. "I don’t have anything going on like that, so what’s up with her?” She asked pointing at the demon on the chair. 

“I need information from her,” he replied before turning to her, “what’s Crowley’s name? Back when he was flesh and blood.”

“Does tying a girl on a chair make you feel better about that time when you murdered your wife?” She asked, surprising her. Lane didn’t know Bobby ever had a wife. 

He didn’t answer her, instead he grabbed a sack of what sounded like bones. “What’s that?” The demon asked uninterestedly. 

“You don’t recognize them? They’re yours,” he said casually before placing the sack on the table next to him such as to be able to see the bones clearly. Then he grabbed his flamethrower and lit it. 

“It won’t work,” she said smugly, “it’s a myth.”

“Then you got nothing to worry about,” he said as he threw fire at her bones, making her yell in pain. 

“I can’t!” she moaned when he stopped. “You don’t know what he’ll do to me.”

“Right now, you better worry about what I’ll do to you,” he replied. 

“You don’t understand, he’s the King—”

“King of the Crossroads, I know.”

“No, King of Hell,” she said. 

“Well, this is news,” Lane said. 

Bobby was silent as he blew off the flamethrower, and just as he was about to talk the doorbell rang.

The demon spoke. “You’ll get that or what?”

He turned to Lane. “Keep her quiet.”

She nodded and he went upstairs. “That’s the blonde neighbor,” said the demon, “hoping to tap the drunk.”

Lane threw Holy water in her face and she screamed. Crap! She’d forgotten she needed to shut her up. She had to think fast. She went upstairs and heard Bobby talking to Ms. Ward about horror movies. She went to the front door and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come on, Bobby. You’re missing all the fun!” Lane said excitedly before glancing at the neighbor and smiling at her and extending her hand, “Hi, I’m Lane Carpenter. And you must be our new neighbor, right?”

She looked confused as they shook hands and said, “Er—uh yes.”

Lane smiled again, trying to abate tension. “So I’ll go rewind what you missed,” she told Bobby, “and we’re out of chips—”

He handed her the tray she’d brought and said, “Take this to the kitchen while you’re at it.”

Lane grabbed it carefully, “Alright,” she smelled it and felt her heart leap, “this smells terrific! Don’t scare her off, Bobby.”

He glared at me while she looked more confused than ever. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be, kid?”

“One question, did you use walnuts when you made this?” Lane asked her. 

She shook her head. “No, I’m allergic.”

“Awesome! You’ll be lucky if you even taste this, Bob’,” Lane said walking away.

He glared at her again. “Go, for God’s sake!”

“Okay dad!” Lane sighed heavily, “Bye ma'am, thanks for this!”

She went to the kitchen and heard them talking. “Well, this is awkward,” said Bobby embarrassed. 

“So, you two..?”

“What? No! No, nothing like that she’s got a twelve year old’s brain,” he said with a chuckle. 

“And you could be a hundred years old, for all I know!” She retorted before going downstairs.

“That was the worst sitcom ever,” said the demon as soon as she caught sight of her. 

“Spare me your third grade teasing,” Lane sighed, sitting cross-legged on the floor outside of her Devil’s trap. 

Then, they heard Bobby’s heavy footsteps down the stairs. “Are you gonna make sweet love to her and stab her to death? That is your thing, right?”

He didn’t answer, but lit up the flamethrower and burned her bones more. “I want Crowley’s name, now!” he yelled over the noise. 

She was nearly completely consumed so Lane caught Bobby’s gaze. “She’s nearly done…”

He nodded at me and stopped the fire. “Last chance, you black-eyed bitch.”

“Okay, okay!” She panted desperately. “His name's Fergus MacLeod, we call him Lucky the Leprechaun behind his back.”

“MacLeod is Scottish, dumbass,” he remarked before turning the flamethrower on full blast.

“No! we had a deal!” She protested frantically before bursting up in flames like ghosts did. 

Lane gave Bobby a look of pity and he scrunched up his face at her saying, “We’re hunters, Lane!”

*•*•*•*•*•*

Lane decided to spend the night at Bobby’s, and help him find leverage against Crowley so he got back his soul. After some research he had found out that demons were sort of like ghosts, and that they could be completely destroyed by burning their bones. 

She went to my room and curled on my bed, tired from the week at school. The night was short but she felt rested. She washed up and went to see what Bobby was making out of that information, but she found him washing blood off his clothes instead.

She frowned and murmured in a still-sleepy voice, “’D'I miss something?”

He saw her and nodded before replying with, “Thing Rufus had me bury escaped and went on a killing spree. At the new neighbor’s.”

“Ouch,” she winced. “Must’ve been me jinxing you when I told you not to scare her off, sorry.”

He shook his head. “Nah, you were right. I do scare them off.”

She leaned against the kitchen’s threshold. “Not Jodie,” she said, trying to make up for it. 

“She’s better off without me. Y'all are, except I’d like to see you try,” he told her maliciously. 

“Meaning?" 

"You’re all dependent on me, whether it’d be for hunting or other things. When you’re stuck, Bobby’ll help and never say thanks or ask how he’s doing!” He complained loudly.  

“I’m sorry, what did I come here for yesterday, Bob?” Lane asked a tad too exasperated for the matter.  

He looked straight into my eyes and seemed like he didn’t know what to say. She spared him the trouble of fishing for words by grabbing her keys and jacket and heading toward the closest diner for breakfast.

*•*•*•*•*•*

She was reading in her car, parked in front of a lake when she started feeling guilty about what she said to Bobby. Maybe he wasn’t complaining about her but rather to her. She’d just been a total douche to him, not the friend he needed at that moment. 

It was nearly sunset when she slapped her book shut and decided to go help Bobby some more and apologize to him. It took her little more than twenty minutes to get there, she ran inside feeling a rush of anxiety. She never knew how to apologize. 

“Bobby?” She called, and just like yesterday the reply came from the basement. 

“Here!”

She went downstairs and felt a ghost-induced chill. She saw a man, barely younger than her, talking to Bobby in a strong Scottish accent. 

“Who’s the stiff?” Lane asked pointing at the ghost. 

Bobby looked proud of himself. “Gavin MacLeod!”

Her eyes widened with shock. “MacLeod as in—?”

“Yep, very same,” Bobby said nodding, “and he gave me interesting information about daddy.”

“Like?” She asked excitedly. 

He looked at her, no resentment due to earlier today visible on him, and said, “Don’t wanna spoil the surprise, there’s more to come.”

He continued to interrogate Gavin and asked Lane to gather the ingredients for demon summoning. She did so and when she was done, he drew a Devil’s trap on the low ceiling. Was he going to summon Crowley right then and there? She was sure of it but part of her hoped not. 

She didn’t wanna face the bastard because each time it reminded her of what she had done for Sophia, and that she had eternity with him to spend. She couldn’t even take back my soul because Sophia would get sick again and she wouldn’t allow it. Bobby summoned Crowley who appeared right under the Devil’s trap. 

Crowley sighed after he looked up to see the Devil’s trap, “Don’t we already know how this ends?” Bobby was going to talk but Crowley interrupted him, “Let me play it for you.” he pointed at Bobby, “‘Want me soul back, idjit!’” and then to himself, “‘'fraid not.’” to Bobby again, “‘But I’m all surly and I got a beard, gimme!’” to himself again, “‘Blah blah blah,’” to Bobby, “‘Bad joke on this and that,’” to himself, “‘Witty retort from yours truly.’ Bottom of the line: you get bubkes. Are we done here?”

Bobby wasn’t phased by Crowley’s obvious uninterest as he said, “Just getting started.” Gavin reappeared. 

Crowley looked surprised as he said, “Gavin? So-Son it’s been so long… I love you so—” he was acting like a human father would until he broke into a chuckle, “I’m sorry, this is your leverage? I loathed the little bastard, you wanna torture him I’ll pull up a chair and I’ll watch. Hell, you can even burn his bones and we’ll have a family reunion downstairs.”

“Surprisingly Gavin hates you, if possible, just as much as you hate him,” announced Bobby. She was not expecting that kind of reunion, “meaning that he was more than glad to spill on you. Like how you used to get drunk and beat him to the blood.”

She winced, never pegged Crowley for the drunk abusive father. Hell, barely even for a father. The King looked like he’d just noticed her so he said, “Oh hello Poppet, didn’t see you there. How’s it going? Enjoying life, I hope?”

Lane stiffened before Bobby resumed his speech. “He also told me of how you sold your soul for an extra three inches below the belt.”

She lost it at that. The King of Hell, former King of the Crossroads, became a demon because he wanted to be better-equipped? 

She snorted and of course, he noticed and looked smug as he said, “Just tryin’ to reach double digits.” Which made her laugh out loud and made him look her up and down before saying, “Tick tock, Poppet.”

She didn’t stop laughing, though her laughter went from amused to nervous as she shook her head in a Stop, he doesn’t know! way. What was she hoping for? 

He pressed on. “I’ll love having you as a guest.”

“What’s he talking about, Lane?” Bobby asked.

“Later, keep going,” she said before sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

He grabbed his phone and when whoever it was picked up, he put it on loudspeaker. “Hey Crowley,” said Dean’s voice, “guess what, the Winchesters have gone international now.”

She raised an eyebrow and Bobby said, “Gavin was kind enough to tell me where old Fergus was buried.”

Lane had just then realized that his real name was Fergus and she suppressed a smile. Until she realized that those assholes went to Scotland without her! 

“You went to Scots without me?!” She bellowed at the phone. 

“Lane? Hey, how’s it going?” Dean greeted. 

“Without me?!” She bellowed again. Crowley was poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek, obviously bored and impatient. 

“You really think this is the moment, Lane?” Bobby asked exasperated. 

She hadn’t realized that she’d stood up, so she sat back down with a huff and folded her arms over her chest, sour. “This isn’t over, guys!”

“Anyway, guess what we got here, Crowley?” Dean asked. 

“A quilt?” He asked in a monotone voice. 

“Your bones, and—” we heard a click, “—this is my lighter ready to turn you into ashes.”

Crowley gave Bobby a dirty look before waving his hand and making fire writing appear on Bobby’s arms, another wave and it disappeared.  

“I think we’ll go ahead and leave the part about my legs,” Bobby suggested as some of the writing appeared again on his arms. 

“Can I go now? I’ve to be overseas,” Crowley said conversationally. 

Bobby took his shotgun and broke the circle of the Devil’s trap. “Pleasure doing business with you, Crowley.”

“Likewise… Both of you,” he said looking straight at Lane.

“Shoot,” she breathed as he disappeared in a snap of his fingers. 

*•*•*•*•*•*

The air in the Singer house was thick with tension, the kind that settled deep into the walls and lingered long after the shouting stopped. Lane stood her ground in the living room, jaw tight, arms crossed, refusing to let them see her hands shake.

Bobby sat in his armchair, exhausted but very much alive, his soul back where it belonged. Sam stood stiffly beside him, arms folded, lips pressed into a thin line. Dean, though, was pacing—back and forth, jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides like he was barely keeping himself from putting a fist through the wall.

Finally, he stopped, leveling a glare at her that could’ve peeled paint.

"Tell me it’s not true."

Lane swallowed. "Dean—"

"Tell me," he growled, voice low, dangerous, "that you didn’t make a deal with Crowley."

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

"Son of a bitch." Dean turned away, running a hand over his face before spinning back, eyes blazing. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

Lane’s fingers curled into fists. "I was thinking my sister was dying."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "And you thought handing your soul over to the King of Hell was the solution?!"

Lane’s temper flared, pushing past the guilt. "What was I supposed to do, Dean? Just sit there and watch her die?"

"You should’ve told us!" Sam cut in, his voice sharp with frustration. "We could’ve found another way!"

"There wasn’t time!" Lane shot back, looking between them. "You really think I wanted this? That I just jumped at the chance to chain myself to him?" She took a shaky breath, lowering her voice. "I didn’t have a choice."

"You always have a choice," Bobby muttered, and that—that stung more than it should have.

Lane turned to him, eyes burning. "Do I? Because as far as I can tell, the people I love tend to end up dead if I don’t do something about it."

"Yeah?" Dean snapped. "And what happens when Crowley comes to collect, huh? What happens when your time’s up?"

Lane set her jaw. "I’ll handle it."

Dean let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah? And what’s the plan there, genius? Hope he changes his mind? Newsflash, Lane, demons don’t just let people walk away from deals."

"I know that!" she snapped.

"Then what the hell is your endgame?"

Lane didn’t answer.

Dean shook his head, anger simmering just beneath his words. "You know, I thought you were smarter than this."

Lane flinched, but she bit back the hurt. "I saved her," she said instead, quieter this time. "That’s all that matters."

Dean let out a sharp exhale, like he was trying to force the rage out through his teeth. Sam just looked tired. Bobby, disappointed.

And Lane—Lane felt like the ground beneath her feet had never been more unsteady.

Because they didn’t get it. They couldn’t.

And maybe they never would.

Right then, they heard slow claps coming from the kitchen. They all grabbed the closest gun until they could find and saw Crowley come out. 

“Very touching,” he commented as they all sighed, put their guns back down and got back to eating.

“Most people ring the doorbell,” she replied. 

“I am not ‘most people’, Poppet,” he murmured. 

“What’re you doing here, Crowley?” Dean asked. 

“Dropped by to visit, or is that a crime now?” He feigned honesty. 

“Knowing you, it is,” Bobby grunted. 

Crowley stared at him and then at me. “You told them, then?”

“What is it to you?” She asked, taking another slice of pizza. 

“Don’t eat that much, your soul won’t fit in your cell,” he said. 

Lane surveyed him from head to toe as she took the biggest bite she could, enjoying every inch of flavour.

She swallowed before saying, “Do you know how I don’t care? And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I find you interesting, that’s what it is,” he replied. She raised her eyebrows. 

“Interesting? Just that, well I should feel honoured. Oddly, I don’t,” she retorted. 

He pressed his lips before saying, “Really, best investment since the extra inches.”

“You must’ve had crappy deals all these years, then. Does it even beat French kissing Bobby?” She asked, making the brothers snort and Bobby sigh heavily. 

“By far,” Crowley said, “might want to do it again, some time?”

Dean frowned. “You can’t make two deals with the same person, Crowley.”

He raised his hands. “King of Hell, Squirrel.”

“Squirrel?” She repeated.

“Fitting, don’t you think Poppet?” Crowley teased before turning to Dean, “Although I wasn’t talking about the deal itself, more of the sealing of the deal.”

Dean raised his eyebrows while Bobby looked like he wanted to burn Crowley’s bones. “Really Crowley?" 

"What? Gotta be honest, I didn’t think you’d be a good kisser, Poppet.”

She narrowed my eyes at him. “Didn’t think you’d refrain from touching my ass either.”

He bit his lower lip and winked at her. “Now I think I should have.”

“Don’t you have a hell to raise?” Bobby asked him bluntly. 

“Jealous?” Crowley teased. 

“Just go, please,” she sighed, “I’m freaking exhausted. See you guys tomorrow.”

She stood up and went upstairs, not even bothering to check whether Crowley was gone. Although he wasn’t there when she got back to grab her shotgun. She closed my bedroom door and when she turned around, she found a package on my bed. She held the shotgun with her underarm while she inspected the package. It was a minimal nightgown made of black silk, or what felt like it, and it had lace all over the bra part. She looked further into the package and found a word:

Like it?

There was no name but she somehow knew who it was from.

"Fugly,” she muttered, scrunching the paper in her hand and tossing it in a can. 

Lane picked up the package, it felt heavy, so she inspected further in it to find a fancy chocolate box. Her teen self would’ve torn through the box to get all the chocolate but she knew better. Ninety percent of the time she saw Crowley, he either smelled of alcohol or he was drinking something. She was too tired to inspect every single chocolate so she put the whole package on her desk and started undressing for bed. 

“I would appreciate a response on my gifts,” murmured Crowley’s voice when she was halfway through taking off her pants, which made her jump and fall on the floor gracelessly. 

“Everything okay, Lane?” Lane heard Dean ask. 

“Yeah! Just fell!” She answered, glaring at Crowley. She extended her hand to him whispering, “A little help, maybe?”

He chuckled as he motioned upward with two fingers and she was up before she knew it. “I don’t like lingerie, and that chocolate has a spell in it, I’m sure.”

He pressed his lips. “You underestimate me, Poppet… As for the lingerie, I’ll give it some time.”

“If you knew I was sober you’d’ve known that I don’t have sex,” she commented, as she grabbed a large t-shirt. 

He saw her pyjama pants laying discarded. “What about those?”

“What is it with you and not your business?” She asked exasperated. 

“Well,” he began, “I like my investments to be—”

“Stop calling me your 'investment’ I just did what I had to do to save my sister. I’m not your business partner or some crap like that. Just-- leave me alone,” she sighed, exhausted and frustrated with him.

He didn’t flinch or look like he was paying attention to her. He traced his chin with his thumb saying, “Until next time, Poppet.”

[girl-in-a-bubbl3]

Glamrock Bonnie(FNAF) x Reader Part 8

Not enough sassy Bonnie fanfic so here we go...I'll try to upload at least once a week.

Notes:

AU Fanfic/NonCanon

Bonnie is terrible but he likes you

5 greenrooms on RSR (we include Monty)

Sun/Moon are the same animatronic

Moon has a lil touch of the virus

Will probably be some spicy parts so...18+

Also just using the gif

After talking to Sun for a few hours, your brain was completely frazzled but also yearning for so much more information.

First of all, Sun and Moon both were an extremely interesting animatronic. Truly an engineering marvel, honestly. Apparently, when the lights went out, they designed Sun in a way where he turned into a completely different animatronic, that being Moon. It all made sense but you never knew they were even remotely designed like that. It was fascinating. You also learned that they could communicate with each other inside of their head. So the times Sun was staring in the distance... he was actually having a side conversation.

Secondly, Moon did have a virus. It wasn't as bad as it used to be, but Moon was still pretty unpredictable around people. Sun did make it seem like Moon liked the virus. It seemed to give him more freedom, the side effect being it also made him very volatile in certain situations. You definitely wanted to take a look into that but Sun made it pretty clear that Moon said it was off limits.

Sun didn't understand why Moon did what he did with you, though. He wouldn't answer his questions or give him his thoughts or feelings. When speaking about you, Moon would shut down completely. You and Sun were both perplexed by that.

You asked Sun if Moon had ever actually hurt anyone before and he didn't want to talk about it so you assumed that something happened. You made a note to ask Freddy about that too.

Sun did let you scan him and, surprisingly, there was nothing wrong with his code. No virus, no bugs. Everything perfectly normal. Your brain was on fire with the need to keep looking and learning how one was effected but the other wasn't but you didn't want to overwhelm Sun.

You really liked Sun. And Moon, too.

Looking down at your Fazwatch, you noticed it was now around 4 am. You needed your last few hours to check up on the Glamrocks one last time before you had to leave. You completely forgot to scan them while bowling and you figured they purposefully didn't remind you.

"Alright Sunny, I guess I'll head out now."

"Oh do you have to?! I was having so much fun!" While having your talks, you both had started coloring and making crafts to take the pressure off of Sun. It was fun. And you wish you could stay and just play with the glitter glue and pipe cleaners.

"Unfortunately, I do. But I really enjoyed our time together! And Moon, too, I really enjoyed meeting him. Even though he wanted to be all grab-by and mysterious." You chuckled and rubbed your neck, thinking of his grip. Lazily wondering how tight it could get while still being comfortable...

What is happening with me lately?

You looked up and saw Sun staring at you in what looked like...shock? "Sunny? You okay?"

"You like...Moon?"

"I do. He's the other part of you. You like him and I trust your judgment so..."

Sun's voice got very quiet and his smile grew wide and very warm. You heard his fans start to whir loudly. You made another note to ask Freddy what that could mean.

"Thank you, Sunflower. We're both very happy to be working with you."

"Same here, Sunshine. And tell Moon that I want more time soon but I expect better behavior."

Sun's eyes glazed over for a moment and then he gasped, whispering to himself quickly. "Moon I will not say that!"

You leaned over the table and poked Sun on the shoulder. "I want to know!"

Sun started chuckling nervously and stood up fast, skipping around the table. "Time's ticking! Better get going to the others!"

Sun scooped you up in another big hug and spun you around while gently setting you back down and ushering you towards the daycare exit.

"You can't keep hiding things from me, you know. I'm going to start bugging you eventually!"

You looked back at Sun when you were almost through the big, wooden doors. His genuine smile was back on his face as he stared down at you.

"I know... but Moon said we can't reveal everything all at once! Ruins the 'mystery'" Sun wiggled his fingers at you, "See ya Sunshine!"

Sun rapidly closed the daycare doors while giving you a big wave before you could get out another sentence. You were left staring at the locked exit in stunned silence. Were they teasing you?

You couldn't help but walk away with a shy smile on your face. You were really enjoying your job and the people you were going to be working with.

-----------------------------------+++---------------------------------------

You were almost out of breath when you made it to Rockstar Row. You really needed to work on your cardio...

You approached the familiar door with the teal light and yellow star on the door. You were actually pretty excited to see Bonnie tonight. Before you even knocked on the door, it slid open and in front of you was the big bunny himself.

He looked down at you with a lazy expression before you saw his mouth pull up into a little smirk. "Can't stay away, can you Peeps?"

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms but couldn't help yourself from breaking out into a big grin. "You're just so charming I don't know what I would do without all of your lively remarks."

Bonnie chuckled and moved to let you in. "Come on, before I change my mind and shut the door on you."

You shook your head and walked past him. You had seen his room recently. When you saw it last, it was an absolute disaster. Things were broken, stuff was everywhere, etc. But looking around the room now, everything was so...clean. It looked like Bonnie had organized and replaced (or at least tried to fix) the furniture that was broken.

It was nice.

"Wow, you really cleaned up in here."

Bonnie narrowed his eyes at you. "And how do you know that?"

You shrugged and started taking out your tablet. "I saw it when I was looking for you guys earlier."

"I didn't answer so you just welcomed yourself into my room?"

You froze and turned to look at him. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. Drop the attitude."

You noticed the tip of his ear twitch. He was quiet for a moment before grumbling to himself and heading to the couch to sit for the scan.

"What took you so long in the daycare anyway?" Bonnie asked as you started the scan.

"I was talking to Sun. And I met Moon."

Bonnie made a noise like he was choking. "You did what?!"

Bonnie whipped around and grabbed your wrists, yanking you closer to him. He started doing his own little scan of your body until he froze when he looked at the mark that was left on your neck.

Immediately Bonnie's face went from shock to anger, extreme anger.

"That son-of-a-bitch."

Bonnie ripped the wires out, stopping the scan, as he proceeded to race out of his room, presumably towards the daycare.

"Bonnie, no!!"

You started running after him, panic settling in.

Oh no no no.

To be continued...

Authors notes:

Kind of a short chapter to transition into some...stuff lol. What's going to happen between Bonnie and Sun/Moon? o.o So sorry for the suuuuper slow burn. Creating a foundation is so tedious but I want to make sure that's something I don't skip. I want to do a spicy chapter soon so... stay tuned for that xD Much love guys! <3

[leniisreallycool]

Their Wrath

Rage curls its icy first around Vivianne's thoat and settles in their stomach. They grip their short brown hair tightly with both hands, too far gone to notice the pain.

Their room has been torn apart and yet they can't bring themself to care. Cute plush blankets strewn across the floor, books woth cracked spines scattered face down, loose pieces of unfinished homework crumpled among clean and dirty laundry, dresser and closet emptied onto the floor and thrown carelessly across the bed.

Vi's chest heaves as they try to breathe before they work themself into a panic attack. But god they are furious. Despair and wrath mingle into a hard rock that sits in their stomach and chokes them.

"It's not here," they mutter. "Where the hell could it have gone?

"... Mammon."

Vi stalks out of their room, down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the dining room, where they stop short beside Mammon's chair.

Satan immediately sits up straighter and stares at Vi in surprise. His eyes glow green from the residual wrath radiating off them.

"Vivianne, you're late for breakfast. Grab a plate before Beel eats in all," Lucifer chides. "And look at your uniform! Are you even wearing an undershirt? Button your coat for decency if nothing else."

"This is more important," they retort. "Mammon. Did you take my ring?"

"Whaaat?? Pfft, who, me? Never! A-anyway, what ring?" Mammon stutters, leaning his chair back in desperate nonchalance.

Levi deadpans at the pathetic show. "He's a scummy idiot. He's not gonna be honest with you."

"Yes he fucking will," Vi growls. They grab the back of Mammon's chair and force it back on all four legs, caging him between their body and the table. There's nowhere for him to go. "Mammon, I'm only going to ask you one more time. What did you do with my ring?"

Lucifer pushes his chair back to intervene, but Satan holds up his hand in a wait gesture. Miraculously yet reluctantly, Lucifer sits back down.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mammon blusters desperately, eyes wide in panic.

None of them had every felt the wrath Vi held inside except Satan, and even he never thought they'd have such a meltdown.

Vi's olive eyes and pact of wrath on the inside of their left shoulder flash green as they snatch Mammon by the collar. The only thing that stopped them from grabbing his throat was Lucifer glaring at them with barely suppressed malice in his eyes.

"Mammon, I call on our pact and order you to get my fucking wedding ring back before I use your intestines as a goddamn scarf," Vi hisses.

The matching gold pact marks on Vi's and Mammon's right hands glow brilliantly and Mammon dashes out of his seat so quickly Vi trips backwards and would have fallen on their ass if Satan hadn't caught them. They saw just the tips of Mammon's leathery black wings before he was gone out the door, presumably to buy back their ring from whatever wretched pawnshop he sold it to.

Vi shakes Satan off them and sets Mammon's chair back upright. Stressed but no longer panicking, they turn to face the other brothers, who stare at them in shock. Well, except Satan, who's trembling, like he's just barely holding back from changing into his demon form.

"What? Why are you all looking at me like that?" Vi demands. "All of you react the same way when he does that to you."

Asmo breaks first. "You're married?!" he cries. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Vi deadpans. "I've been here for three months and you haven't noticed."

"That's not the issue here," Lucifer interjects. "You cannot treat Mammon like your pet, even if he occasionally behaves like a dog."

"Then maybe you should teach him not to steal my shit and I won't make him fetch it back," Vi fires back.

Asmo slams his hands on the table. "You didn't answer me! Why didn't you tell us you were married? Oh, the fun we could have, you and me and your spouse!" He puts his hand on his chest and swoons dramatically.

Vi's eyes narrow into the darkest scowl any of them had seen on a human. "You won't mess with my husband. For any reason. None of you will."

Beel and Levi both start to say something, but Vi walks away without giving them a chance to speak.

[lucky0stars]

Hi hiiii! Ok so I have this fun idea. Well I think it's fun. But how about some headcanons about Reader working for the Moogles in Traverse Town?

Thank yoooou in advance!

Aww, this is a great idea! I absolutely adore Moogles. Thank you for sending this request in, it was super fun to brainstorm! I hope you enjoy!

**Working for the Traverse Town Moogles Headcanons**

-You first encounter the Moogles of the Synthesis Shop not long after your arrival to Traverse Town. While looking for available work, you’re directed to an odd little workshop located just above the First District Accessory Shop with only a simple “Good luck,” to give any indication of what awaits you. Not the most reassuring remark, but how bad can it be?

-You receive your answer the moment you arrive at the workshop when a loud bang shakes the ground beneath your feet. From within the building you can hear the muffled bickering of two high-pitched voices. (Maybe you should come back later, part of you wonders, but you already came all this way…)

-Inside, the cluttered workshop is filled with a pungent smoke that makes your eyes water. Two little winged creatures with red pompoms sprouting from their heads are deep in a heated argument in front of a crackling forge. (“I told you, kupo! TWO fire crystals! Just. TWO.”) Their argument is soon forgotten, however, when the two Moogles see you standing there. “Our new apprentice, kupo!” one of them says in excitement. “And they have thumbs!” the other adds.

-The Moogles are quick to put you to work, but it’s duties of little consequence at first. Sometimes it’s sending you to get them food from the café down the street or having you run deliveries to Squall—ahem, Leon—and his group. Other times they have you move around heavy boxes or transcribe notes as they discuss recipes. You ask for a chance to use the forge, but the Moogles are reluctant to let a newcomer handle such important equipment.

-After a week of asking for a chance to prove yourself, they eventually relent and allow you to work on an order. Your first job is simple, just setting magical crystals into a protective chain. It takes a few attempts and the metal gets a little scuffed in the process, but to your delight the Moogles deem it passable and put it on display to sell in the shop downstairs. Even they seem to be surprised at how well you did with your first creation!

-(A spiky-haired boy buys it the next day before leaving on a ship with a knight and a wizard to travel the worlds. Unbeknownst to you, it saves him during a particularly difficult fight against a massive Heartless.)

-After seeing your potential, the Moogles take a more active role in teaching you the skills of the craft. You’re still not allowed to touch the forge, but they have you put the finishing polish on various accessories and brew consumable medicines now that you’ve proven yourself a capable synthesis artist! (Sometimes it feels like you’re single-handedly keeping the Item Shop stocked with all the Potions and Ethers they have you make.)

-That spiky-haired boy and his companions visit the shop several times over the following months, turning in materials they’ve collected from their battles. They become familiar faces in the shop and often bring you the materials need for your orders. You listen to the stories of their adventure and the boy’s mysterious “Keyblade” while you work, and one day the weapon’s modular keychains sparks an idea.

-You work on the design in secret between all of your order fulfillments. After several weeks you eventually finish your recipe blueprint and show it to the Moogles. For once they fall quiet as they look over your diagrams and measurements and even notes on material procurement. You’re not sure what they’re thinking until they set your blueprint down.

-“A keychain packed with this much power? I’ve never seen anything like it, kupo,” they say before handing you a pair of protective goggles and heat-proof gloves and pointing to the forge. “Let’s see if you can bring it to life, kupo.”

-You spend hours toiling away in the workshop, using the materials you have on hand to build what you hope is an acceptable prototype. It’s only an example piece because such exotic materials are incredibly difficult to source and “Orichalcum doesn’t grow on trees, kupo!” But still you can’t waste this opportunity to use the synthesis forge.

-Despite your efforts though, the keychain doesn’t come out quite right. The substitute base metals warp under the immense power of the inserted gemstones, and the energy within can’t flow without the necessary Mystery Goo to channel the trinket’s magic. As you show your Moogle teachers the results of your effort and explain to them what went wrong, you can’t help but feel disappointed.

-But to your surprise the Moogles nod their heads in approval. This assignment was to test your skills in the art of synthesis, and they clearly see the potential in your drive and passion. The knowledge you show about the prototype’s weak points proves that you are a true synthesis expert. You are dubbed an honorary Moogle artisan with full access to the forge, and your winged teachers promise to help you perfect your Ultima Weapon recipe.

-(The next time that spiky-haired boy comes in, you make sure to give him a massive list of materials to gather.)

--------------------------

-Mod Orna

[countrymusiclover]

60 - Missing What We Had

Part 61

Family is More than Blood

@melvia-ito @vavafaure1994 @kmc1989 @tallrock35

Missy’s pov

Ethan parked his truck outside of the lake house before I vamped behind opening the tailgate and taking out our suitcases. It had been five years since we had graduated high school. And we were doing our best to work in our small town. But most free weekends we were spending our time out here with our friends. “Landon just texted and said they’re almost here.”

“That’s good to know. We can set up the bonfire after the sun sets. My aunt Caroline said that they’d always start the school year off with a bonfire in the woods. And I think we should make that a tradition here, what do you think?” Grabbing the fireplace lighter stuffed inside one of the kitchen drawers I turned back to face my boyfriend.

My boyfriend smiled back at me. “That sounds fun. Let’s get everything set up before they get here.”

A few hours later we stood in the yard and down by the edge of the lake water with a burning pile of firewood at our feet. It was our whole little group of family and some friends gathered together which included me, Hope, Ethan, Landon and Andrea. Josie and Lizzie were back at Mystic Falls catching up with each other. “So what exactly are we doing with a fire? Are we going to be camping outside?”

“Not this time, Landon. This is actually a Mikaelson family tradition.”

Ethan made a confused face. “What kind of tradition?”

“Our auntie Bex said that we would write down our wishes and then burn them for luck.” Hope explained sitting on a log with Andrea and Landon seated on either side of her.

Landon smiled, scribbling down something and throwing it in the fire before anyone else could see it. “Sounds like fun.”

“Dang Landon, I guess we don’t get to know what you’re writing over there.” Andrea was the first to notice what he had just done.

The rest of us paused our wish writing focusing on the former supernatural boy. “What don’t you want us to know, Landon. I mean I thought we were all friends here.”

“He doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to.” Hope defended.

Landon nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just embarrassing. I wished for some more muscles - like a certain Avenger.”

“The Hulk, Captain America or Thor?” I asked him with a cheeky grin.

Ethan pointed his index finger at him. “It’d be hard to pick between Thor and Steve Rogers.”

“Nah it wouldn’t be hard for me. God of Thunder, all the way.” Ethan and Landon shifted their gazes at me. Ethan gave me a weak smile until I responded back to him. “He’s a hot God. Oh don’t worry, E. You’re the only guy for me.”

Andrea slightly rolled her eyes, chuckling. “You guys are such cute nerds.”

The laughter in the room began to fade with my sister seeing some sadness welling in my eyes. “Missy, what’s wrong?”

“I wish Alina and Jackson were here. Along with the rest of our family.”

My sister nodded her head yes in agreement looking up at the stars above our heads. “Yeah, me too. I wonder if Alina is happy back in New Orleans.”

Raelyn’s pov

“Alina Mikaelson, you open the door this instant!” Vamping inside the cabin I heard my husband’s voice shouting down at the end of the tight hallway.

Striding up to him I grabbed him gently by the shoulder. “Klaus, yelling at her isn’t going to help us any faster.”

“She shouldn't have done what she did. She lied to us for five years. She didn't tell her son, our own grandson, about us. Oh and now to top it off she has another offspring that will probably know nothing about us!” He shouted back at me throwing his hands up in the air.

Running my hands down my face I sighed heavily knowing he had every right to be furious with her. I know I was but what would that anger solve, absolutely nothing. “I'm angry with her too. But if we don't have her on our side then I can’t do the spell to help my brother have another baby.”

“So that's what this trip was all about. My idiot brother in law can't wrap his head around the fact that he can't have any more children. Oh I feel so sorry for him.”

Glaring at my husband I remarked. “Niklaus, be nice. Remember he is my brother and I care about him just as much as I do you.”

“If he really cared about you he would have told you what Alina had done.” He turned his head back towards the door shouting again. “We're still your parents regardless of you legally being an adult now!”

Slapping my hand over his mouth I shut him up, turning his face with my other hand. “That’s not going to get us anywhere. Besides you can't dagger her for this, Nik.”

“Freya - could use - a boundary - spell.” He muffled against my palm.

Shaking my head he knew I was right. “And she'll break it in a second because she's half siphon witch in case you've forgotten.”

“What do you suggest we do then, Raelyn?” He removed my hand from his mouth holding it in his larger one.

Leading him over to the living room coach with our hands still together I dragged him down to sit with me. “We just wait for her to come talk to us.”

“You can't be serious, Rae?” He knitted his brows at me.

Nodding my head I laid down on my back on the coach staring at him. “I am 100% serious, Nik. She's old enough to make her own decisions even if we don't agree with them. We have to listen to what she has to say. Now can we please cuddle while we wait?”

“I have a better idea, we could go have sex on your brother's bed.” He smirked down at me.

Covering my mouth with my hands I attempted to hold back the fit of laughter that escaped my lips. “Nik, no!”

“Why not?” He pressed on leaning down to connect our lips together, his body hovering over mine.

Breaking the kiss I held his face in my hands I lightly smiled. “Because with our luck we'd get me knocked up and be on our way to child number 7.”

“What’s wrong with that? We both love our children don't we?” He questioned with a tilt of his head.

Lazily running my fingers through his dirty blonde locks I replied hoping he would understand. “I adore them with all my heart. It's just - we never have time to ourselves anymore. Like we used to when my cousins were alive and -”

“And you were always horrified you'd die and kill your entire coven.”

Rolling my eyes it all seemed so foreign now for me to be afraid of death. Looking back now I was born to be a vampire. I was born to be a heretic. “Yes, that too. But my point is I want us to go back to those moments. The moments where it was just you and me against the world. Where we aren't responsible for other people, just you and me.”

“I'll find a way to make that happen, my heretic Queen. You have my word on that because I love you.” Nik closed the gap between us, connecting our lips in a heated kiss.

Threading my fingers deeply into his curls I let myself get lost in the passionate kiss. “I love you too.”

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober Day 27: Scars

First it was Pixal and now it's Zane! We love our favorite nindroid, and I like this one a lot. I feel like it maybe could've been a little better but oh well, if it works it works.

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @ghostwalloper @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken

Words: 2.1k

There were so many.

Jay’s hands kept tracing up and down his arms, following the lines as they went up and up and up all the way to his shoulders. Angry and red, his arms were throbbing in pain as he tried to flex his hands. He had already applied as much cream as he could safely put on, and it was doing jackshit to numb any of the pain. Pain that was worse than almost anything that he had ever felt, and he was pretty sure that it would be less painful if he cut his arms off.

He was supposed to be doing his exercises to try and strengthen his hands, but instead he had spent the past half hour sitting on the bench and trying to keep his arms as still as possible. Sweating, Jay bit his tongue to try and distract from the fire racing through his nerves, flinching when his hands twitched against his will. Need to breathe and breathe and breathe and breathe—

“Brother?”

Zane was standing in the doorway to the medbay, looking at Jay rocking back and forth with thinly veiled concern. He was holding a plate of food, setting in down on the nearest table and making his way over to Jay’s bench. Jay was suddenly very aware of how naked he was with his shirt off and his torso exposed, all of the scars from over the years on full display.

The whips and the burns and the slashes and the claws and the—

Sitting down, the ice ninja bit his lip. “The others were getting worried when you didn’t show up for dinner. Is everything alright?”

“I…” Jay looked away, feeling the shame bubble up from deep inside. “I can’t finish my stretches.”

“You can’t?” Zane asked. “Why? Is something wrong?”

There was nothing he could say that would make Jay feel any less embarrassed of himself, even though Jay knew that Zane would be the absolute last person to make fun of him for anything. “It hurts.”

“Hurts? What hurts?”

“Everything,” and Jay finally turned around to face Zane, paranoid about the nindroid looking at his back for too long. He didn’t want to answer any questions. “Everything hurts. My skin and my nerves and my—”

“Scars,” Zane finished, a sympathetic look on his face. Jay hated how weak it made him feel. “I may not have this problem, but I think I can still help. Would you want my help?”

No. “Sure, if you think there’s anything you can do about it.”

At least it wasn’t Cole. Jay didn’t know how he would’ve felt if it was Cole, but he knew that he would’ve just waved his best friend away and continued to suffer on his own. Kai would’ve been an instant no, and honestly? Nya and Lloyd probably would’ve been too. Zane wouldn’t go snitching on him, and Zane knew a lot about how to take care of them from past experiences and plenty of research. None of that logical thinking made him feel any better.

“How long have you been hurting?” Zane asked, taking Jay’s hands in his own and stroking across the top with his thumbs. The motion felt nice, his metal skin cool against the burning scars.

It was a tough question. Jay technically hadn’t been sitting here and hurting for very long, but his scars? His scars were hurting weeks before, almost like he overused them or overextended something. But the pulsing and the throbbing and the tingling were easy to suppress, easy to wave away. And of course, Jay made no effort to take care of himself when they started flaring up.

Humming, Jay just decided to give Zane the short version. “Since this morning.”

Zane raised an eyebrow, and Jay realized that the nindroid had a finger over his pulse point to measure out his heartbeat. “You’re lying. Tell me the truth.”

Biting his lip, Jay looked away. “...why should I? It won’t make a difference.”

“It makes a difference to me,” Zane said, “but I will not push if you do not want me to. I merely wanted to know so that I may help you in a more effective manner.”

Silence settled over the two of them, and it made Jay antsy, feeling like something was crawling under his skin. Guilt wormed its way into his bones; he couldn’t remember the last time he snapped at Zane or talked back to him. Something about it made him feel afraid, like the nindroid might punish him for stepping out of line.

Jay hated how often he felt like he had to walk on eggshells around his family.

All because of him.

Pain exploded across his body in response to his brief thought about Nadakhan, and Jay folded in half as stars swam through his vision. Gasping, he clutched at Zane’s hands, using his lightning and willing some of his nerve endings to shut off so he wouldn’t feel all of the pain. He knew that Zane knew what he was doing,

“Brother, do not,” Zane insisted, activating his power and letting the soothing cold envelop Jay’s hands. “You will only make it worse.”

“I know, Zane,” Jay was biting his tongue to keep from crying out.

Pins and needles stabbed into his legs from sitting down for too long, and Jay stood up without thinking about what might happen. His ankle gave out almost instantly, and Zane’s grip on his arm was the only thing keeping him from crashing into the ground. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jay couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore as the feeling left his leg, and it felt far too familiar to the numbness of the vengestone. He shouldn’t have switched the nerves off. He needed it back he needed it back he needed it back—

His back was pressed against a wall, and Jay choked on his next inhale. Shoulder screaming in pain, he threw his hand onto the wall, trying to feel what material it was made out of and praying to the First Master that it was wood—

It was stone.

He was up against a stone wall and he couldn’t feel his legs.

No. No. No. No no no no no no—

“--calm down,” Zane was saying, but Jay wasn’t listening. Using every bit of strength that he had left he tried to toss his entire body weight onto the thing keeping him down, crying out when it felt like his skin was splitting in two again. The thing barely moved an inch, and Jay sobbed, fighting harder and scrabbling against the metal skin as if he were a caged animal fighting for freedom.

Finally understanding what was making Jay so distressed, Zane carefully took ahold of the blue ninja’s shoulders and lay him down on his back on top of the room’s small carpet. Jay felt the carpet, clinging onto it until his knuckles turned white as he tried to get his bearings. Zane let a very small layer of frost coat his hand, carefully setting it on his brother’s neck and rubbing his jaw with his thumb.

Cold. It was cold. It wasn’t Nadakhan.

“Is this better?” Zane asked softly, and Jay was aware of the tears that escaped from his eyes from his mini-meltdown. He was embarrassed, and he was ashamed, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into his brother’s touch.

“Y-Yeah. Better.”

“We are going to stay like this for a couple minutes until you catch your breath.”

And that’s exactly what they did. Zane let his processor whirr a little louder than it normally did, and Jay was grateful for the peace that washed over him when it was all he could hear other than the sounds of them breathing. The carpet was rough and scratchy underneath him, but that was good. Anything other than the smooth and slick feeling of stone against his skin.

“Jay,” Zane said, and Jay opened his eyes again. He didn’t even know that he closed them in the first place, “would you be comfortable laying on your stomach?”

Dread filled him from the bottom up, and Jay had to swallow the fear back. This was Zane, his brother, and he wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him. “I-I guess so. Just be careful with whatever you’re going to do, alright?”

“Always. You know you can trust me,” Zane said, and he waited patiently for Jay to roll over onto his stomach. Jay took his time, feeling the pain come back twofold now that the pressure on his skin was being relieved. His scars stung as he exposed them to air again and Jay grimaced, keeping the small whimpers from escaping his mouth as he stretched his arms out.

Zane straddled him, and it took all of Jay’s self-control not to buck him off out of pure instinct. Apparently, the nindroid must’ve sensed Jay’s hips tense and prepare to move, and he was quick to get back off and sit down next to Jay. Jay felt a hand slide between his face and the carpet, lifting his head up and setting it down so that Jay’s head was cushioned against Zane’s thigh. He liked this better, nuzzling into Zane and feeling his brother’s hands start to work through his hair.

Jay liked that Zane’s powers were still active. The cold was a nice difference from the burning pain that he was feeling before.

Zane sighed. “You are going to be the death of me one day.”

“I thought that would be Kai,” Jay joked, and winced when Zane tugged a little too hard at one of the knots in his hair. Probably out of retaliation.

“Kai can be trusted to tell someone about his wounds, and I know that he can’t hide anything from me. You, however, have been successfully hiding this for weeks without me noticing, and that scares me.”

“Why?”

Zane paused in his movements. “I am your brother, and I have lived with you for years. I should be able to tell when you are in pain.”

Jay let his eyes close again as one of Zane’s hands smoothed across the back of his neck. “Zane, buddy, that’s because I didn’t want you to see it.”

Both of Zane’s hands left his hair, and Jay would’ve whined in protest if two cold spots didn’t settle on his shoulder blades, Zane’s wide hands spreading themselves flat before starting to go up and down his back. Jay felt his jaw go slack, finally able to take a breath without feeling like his skin was going to snap right off of his body. “Why would you not want someone to know that you were hurting?” Zane asked.

First Master, he was too tired for this. “Not worth the effort, Zane. It wouldn’t have made any difference.”

“The effort? Of helping you to feel better?”

“Yup,” Jay said, popping the ‘p’ on the end, “not worth it. The others and you have better things to do with your time than help me.”

At least, that’s what Nadakhan and the rest of the pirates told him.

“I can think of no better use of my time than helping those that I care about,” Zane said softly, kneading into Jay’s lower back. Jay squirmed for a second and settled down again. “I do this for Cole, and for Kai, and Lloyd, and even Nya once or twice. I would be more than happy to do it for you as well.”

“Damn, I’m the last one?” Jay hummed as Zane moved over the grooves in his spine.

“Yes, and yet somehow I think you’re the one who has needed it the most,” Zane was almost grumbling, and the tone of voice would’ve made Jay giggle if he didn’t feel like he was going to fall asleep at any second. The nindroid’s ice made a world of difference; for the first time in weeks, he felt almost normal. Like he might be able to sleep without fearing for his life when he would spring awake an hour later.

“Thanks, Zane.”

“You’re welcome, but if you wish to truly thank me, please do not hide something like this from us again. Any one of us would be more than happy to sit with you and help massage until you feel better.”

“You know how dirty that sounds, right?”

Zane very lightly whacked his shoulder, and Jay snickered in response. “Hush, you need your rest.”

“What about that food that you brought me?” Jay asked, remembering that it was there and sitting on the table near the door. Zane wasn’t that worried about it, still sitting on the ground and starting to trace along the myriad of lines criss-crossing Jay’s back.

“I will call Cole to come and get it after you fall asleep. And then he can help carry you to bed.”

“Can it be with you? Cause you’re cold and it feels nice.”

“Yes, Jay. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[natlacentral]

‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’ Crown Prince Dallas Liu Had Elliott Smith on his Zuko Playlist

With the Netflix show officially renewed for two more seasons, the actor talks to GQ about his personal style, his cult series PEN15, and bending lightning.

Before he found his calling, Avatar: The Last Airbender star Dallas Liu considered becoming a stuntman. But when Liu was only 12 years old, his soon-to-be manager discovered his competition videos on YouTube and asked him if he'd ever thought about acting. The answer was yes: “Martial arts had definitely inspired me to become an actor, because of the performance aspect of it,” Liu tells GQ from his home in California.

Now, at 22, Liu’s credits include a Gen-Z cult comedy (PEN15) and a high-profile Marvel film (Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.) He’s been able to channel his eclectic background to play the complicated villain at the center of the Avatar: The Last Airbender franchise, Fire Nation royal Prince Zuko.

A few weeks before Netflix announced that Avatar had been renewed for a second and third season, Liu talked to GQ about how playing Prince Zuko changed him, his love of A24 films, and the Pen15 renaissance.

Were there any Avatar scenes that you were really excited to film?

All of the flashbacks. All of episode six was super fun, but specifically the scene between Aang and Zuko in that shed after an escape. And then, when Zuko sort of blows up at Zhao, at the fight at the Northern Water tribe.

The writers had given me a lot of good stuff to work with, and so I was just happy that in our show Zuko gets a character arc. In the first season of the animated series, he’s sort of one-note and quite melodramatic in each scene—he's sort of being repetitive about his motives. [But] he was always my favorite character as a kid. I just loved Zuko. Being able to play him was a dream come true.

I saw in another interview that you said that it was great to humanize him. Was there anything that you kind of discovered about yourself through playing Zuko, because he's such a complicated character?

Yeah, since he’s so complex, playing him opened up my heart while I was off-set. When I had originally arrived in Vancouver to work on the show, I was similar to Zuko in that I was very narrow-minded in what I wanted to do, in terms of how I wanted to be an actor on set. I thought this was my one opportunity in life to prove to the people that I have a spot in this industry.

I was like, I'm focused on my work, do my job, go home, rest, and just take care of myself. And throughout that process, that's what it feels like with Zuko and Iroh. Zuko is like, "I'm just going to capture the Avatar, and then return them to my father and then I get to go home." And we see that that's not the case.

There are so many things that are involved in this journey that Zuko and Iroh go on, and something that I felt was my relationship with the other cast members and with the crew members started to grow. I found myself wanting to open up my heart and share this experience with them, and share all the love that I had inside of me that I had been trying to hold back on.

If you were not playing a character from the Fire Nation, what powers would you want to have personally?

Oh, it still definitely would be fire. It’s the most aesthetically-pleasing one in my opinion. In the world of Avatar, you can start to manipulate other elements once you become a master of that base one, and I think lightning is something that I've always thought would be super cool to bend. I think fire represents me, my heart.

What's your Zodiac sign?

I'm a Leo.

That adds up.

Wait, why?

Leo is a fire sign!

Oh, yeah, that's true!

Have you seen the TikToks about the Pen15 renaissance?

During my time shooting it, Pen15 was still blowing up. It's been on this continuous rise, which I'm so happy because that show—now it's really, really popular. But at the time, it was so underrated. I was still tapping into a younger version of myself on that series. But [for Avatar] I took inspiration from watching Maya and Anna act out as kids, for Zuko being an innocent child himself in the war meetings, in that first scene with Uncle Iroh in episode six.

I mean, you were still a kid. You were 16. That's a child.

Yeah. Yeah. Well, I guess it's a lot closer to Zuko, and that he doesn't think he is.

Did you really shave your head for this, or did you do a bald cap?

Given that we were trying to stay faithful to the original and what it represented in the show, I thought it was extremely important for me to shave my head. I had a choice. I won't get into what it represents so much, but you get to see a little bit in some of the Avatar lore that exists outside of our series. But it gets you into character so much because it pisses you off so badly every morning. Waking up on the weekends when I'm not working and I just want to go out, I have to throw on a beanie. But waking up and staring at myself—This is my life now, this is who I am—I think it certainly got me into character very easily.

I really liked your red velvet suit at the premiere. How has your style evolved from your younger years to now?

My mom has always been my biggest fashion influence. She's the one who sort of turned me into this picky critic when it comes to outfits and clothes. Even when I was younger, I wouldn't ever let her pick out my outfits. And because I didn't let that happen, I ended up looking really stupid and goofy a lot of the time.

But I think everyone starts in sneakers—very common, especially for guys. You start with basketball shoes, and then you transition into Jordans, and then you transition into some form of streetwear after that. And at that point, you could go, I think, either into this world of vintage or archive clothing, or obviously, people love designer clothing and mixing up that world of streetwear with that.

But for me, I think I just really elevated basics. My style has just become less about brands, obviously, and more about quality. I'm 22 now, so I'm paying for all of this stuff myself. So I'm like, is this worth it? Am I going to be fine without this? On carpets for the Avatar premiere, I wanted to go all out. When I'm in real life, I just stick to all black and different shades of gray.

Did you make a playlist for Zuko, his character to get into character?

I did, but at some point, I stopped using it just because I sort of found my groove from the character. But some artists that were in there were Elliot Smith and Duster.

Which Elliot Smith songs did you put on there?

“Between the Bars.” And just all of his most popular stuff for sure, because especially “Between the Bars” relates to some part of Zuko's life, whether it was his actual scar banishment or catching the Avatar.

Are there any genres you want to dabble in next?

I honestly love drama so much. Obviously, the new Dune film just came out and I just love Denis [Villeneuve]. Every actor, I feel like can agree with me on [that]—and that we want to do an A24 film. But honestly, I'm still just trying to take any work that I can get, because I do want to show my range as an actor. I'd love to work with Willem Defoe on something, that'd be cool. So, just projects that are grounded, but have a stylistic element that separates it from Hollywood blockbusters.