#i also need to just...admit that i need a LOT more help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 2 days ago

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Ahahaaa I love it!! Definitely need to buckle in for this one - it's wild ride for more than one reason lmaooo 🙀

This was soooo good! Pure poetry, friend! Brava 😍👏❤️‍🔥

ehehe thank you, lovely! Coming from you, that's big praise. 🥰🥰 (Also was debating like, how many metaphors for this is too many? Trying to be more creative with the smut writing 🤣)

Not the soap drop 🤣

*snorts* admittedly was a bit cliché and a little mean, but I couldn't resist 😂😂

I’m watching you…

😘

I’m reading up 😭😭😭 I’m happy he gets to say it to her again, but at the same time, I hope it’s not inevitable if the last times 🥲

You know, I even debated whether he should admit it yet, but for some reason it felt right. 🥹 Maybe because he knows he may not have as many opportunities to say it, and he's still reeling that she forgave him and is back in his life. ❤️‍🩹

Uh-huh, let’s do the fucking “second opinion stuff,” Mark?! How long does he think he can wait with this? 😅 And you raised an interesting point that I kept thinking throughout watching (and especially during that little fainting spell in 1x05) – how long does he think he’s gonna be okay enough to do this? At this point, it seems most likely he hopes to get shot because it’s be quicker 🙈

Right?! lmfao she's definitely going to bring that up again soon.

That's honestly what I keep thinking about. Until when does he think he can hide this from his team? And like we just saw in 1x05, how long until that happens while he's mid-mission, not just in a stairwell safe in home base. 😰 I think you're right - he'd rather just keep making reckless moves until he gets taken out on the job somehow, or at least try to finish this last mission.

Lol that poor man. Actually so curious where his story goes 👀

lol me too! He was thwarted in 1x05, but I don't think we've seen the last of him 😂

Yup!!! But I fear Rachel is too far gone and you can’t help someone if they don’t wanna be helped 🤷‍♀️

It's quite possible! But maybe by the end of this one she'll get some clarity on a few things lmao

Of fucking course! God, I hate that woman so much 🤮😂

hahaaa right? She's a lot (too much) 🤣🤣

I loved how reader instantly tore into Rachel! I was cheering her on throughout 😂👏👏👏

When she said "on sight," she truly meant on sight! 😝 Their problems go back way past Mark, unfortunately, so it was like popping the cork open on years of resentment on both sides 😅

Haha his road rage stood out to me, too. Fuckstick 🤣🤣

💯💯 lmfaooo girl I had to put it back the first time because I was like, "he really said 'fuckstick'??" 😂😂😂 This man.

This whole bit had me rolling!! Loved how reader just really gave it to Rachel, and Mark just stood and watched 😂😂 But man, this girl deserved it, and you delivered. Thank you, Alex 😻😌🙌 (And it’s clear theres no coming back from this. I don’t even think Lisette likes Rachel 😂)

Ahaha I'm so glad you enjoyed the show! (we know Mark did.) 🤣🤣 Reader definitely went all in, and tbh I think Rachel deserved it too. Girl needed a reality check 🤣 (honestly no, Lisette is that sad, disappointed woman who just realized she created a monster lol.)

That cut so deeply and it’s so true 😭 Please don’t kill my heart with this series 🙏 (Slowly regretting sending you that song lmao)

Oof yeah, I think this is the part that justifies reader's rage the most. It's not just the fact that Rachel tried to steal her man/wreck her relationship, but the fact that reader and Mark lost precious time where they could've been already married, him getting treatment, etc.

Also I'm trying not to kill my own heart with that song inspo. 🤣🤣 Still trying to decide how big of an asshole Mark is gonna end up being in the next one 😅

Awww, such a callback to Downgrade! I loved this little tidbit between them and how it reminded him of her back then 😍🥹

omgg I'm so happy you caught that little tidbit!! 🥹 That's exactly what I was going for 💕

Oooh, I can’t wait to see where you take this! They tried to paint Valwell in a better light with what Bell said, but I’m still kinda sus of the man – asset or adversary? So I love that reader is in the middle of all of this (even if she doesn’t know it yet) 👀

Aww thank you!! Nah I think Valwell is skeevy tbh. Maybe he was a good prosecutor in his younger days, but he strikes me as getting more of an ego as the power got to him. Reader may or may not be about to find out how in the middle she is in the next part... 🫢

And I sound like a hypocrite after I told you about my angsty deadly Mark dreams, but please let that second opinion work out 😅🙏 Can’t wait for the next part, Alex!! 😍💙💜

Oh my God, Wayne you nearly killed me with that!! 😭 Please be gentle with my heart, friend, you know I'm delicate! 😂😂💙🩵

I'm so happy you're enjoying this little series! I'm genuinely having a lot of fun with it, like I know you're having fun with ATS. Right now I'm torn between going my own way and seeing what they do to end S1, but I guess we'll see in parts (and episodes) to come...

SISTER, SISTER

Pairing: Mark Meachum x F. Reader

Summary: You and Mark have an emotional reconnection after he finally comes clean. But that also means you have some unfinished business to take care of with your sister, Rachel.

AN: Wrote this last week because I guess I can't stop myself! 😂 So yep, these Mark stories have officially become a series of one-shots called — ‘Til When Do Us Part. This one is also a gif check requested by my friend @lamentationsofalonelypotato for the 5K Follower Celebration. I think this is an important puzzle piece to explore after Catastrophic Blues. 😉

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: [Set during 1x02] 18+ only! Reunion smut, fluff, an epic cat fight (lol), angst, hurt/comfort

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His hair dragged through your fingers again. First soft and loose, then gripped tight—desperate, hot tingles across your skin.

It was almost too much.

A halting moan fell from your lips, his biting kiss along your throat as he moved inside you.

“Fuck. Takin’ me better than ever, baby,” he said into your skin, his words gritted out and tinged with smoke and relief. “Gonna feel me for fuckin’ days at this rate.”

The sound of his voice reached deep into your bones. The safety of his arms caged you underneath him on his bed, the old mattress creaking with every test of the springs. He wrapped an arm around your thigh like curling steel, opening you up more for him, making his rolling thrusts hit deeper. Harder. A man possessed.

You gasped, your pussy already throbbing in time with your heartbeat. Your words were barely syllables, but they escaped you nonetheless. "Oh, fuck. Mark..."

He smirked into your neck. His lips trailed down to your shoulder and nipped harder with teeth, just to feel you writhe against him. You whimpered, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chest when you arched back up into him.

His hot breaths further ignited your skin. Your nails raked down the back of his neck and down his shoulder as you held on for the ride—an obscene squelching of wetness and hot breaths, skin against flushed skin. Your fingers pressed into every divot of muscle, as if you could sink right through his skin and make him feel you. Not for days. Forever.

You didn’t have words to speak. It was all in your eyes when they met his. Raw, vulnerable, glassy with pleasure, your breaths unsteady with emotion.

He pulled back a little, just so he could slip his hand between your bodies and find your slick, swollen clit again. He swept the pads of his fingers in the angles and rhythm he knew would serve you best in between his thrusts.

He swallowed your gasp of his name, your whimpers as you shuddered and came. A sensation like kaleidoscope colors, bursting like so many stars. You fucking squeezed him from the inside out for the third time tonight, finally forcing a ragged groan from his own lips as he spilled into you. His hips stuttered a shaky and powerful release.

You grabbed his face and poured your soul into that kiss, a wet and filthy meeting of lips and tongues.

Panting breaths forced their way through his nose, but he wouldn’t break that kiss for all the world. He finally had you back in his arms. He had the scent of your floral soap in his nose, your familiar sweetness on his tongue, your hair threaded through his fingers. He had it all.

It wasn’t the faded memories he clung to in a brick-and-mortal cell, or the daydreams of what if that had been torturing him whenever he saw a girl in a white dress, or a family sitting at dinner with their little kids in highchairs.

It was you, solid and real.

Your kiss swollen lips dragged from his slowly, reluctantly, with shaky breaths in between.

He let your thighs slip down to rest more comfortably around his hips, but he didn't move just yet. He stayed buried deep inside you.

He brushed your frizzy hair away from your forehead, his eyes a little softer, less crazed. You sniffled as a tear rolled from the corner of your eye. He swept the wetness away with his thumb.

“I know it was good, but you don’t need to cry, sweetheart,” he teased lightly. There was a tender note in his voice though.

Your heart clenched to hear it. Part of you still couldn't believe this was real. Despite yourself, you laughed a little, breathless and boneless.

“I guess it’s just, um…it’s been a while.”

“Really? You haven’t, uh, been seeing anyone?” he asked, trying to hide the hope from his voice.

You snorted. “No.”

Plain and simple. He quirked a smile.

“And you?” you asked reluctantly, as if the answer wouldn't tear into you if he said any form of yes.

He almost laughed. “I was in lockup for nine months, remember?”

Relief allowed you to relax again. A smirk began to curve your lips as your fingers tapped an idle rhythm on his dewy arms.

“What, you didn’t get yourself a little boyfriend? No ‘drop the soap’ action?” you teased.

Mark’s jaw nearly unhinged. He stared down at you, disbelief and amusement warring for dominance at your cheek.

“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?”

Your whole body shook in effort to contain your giggles, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he tried not to laugh. Honestly, he should’ve expected nothing fucking less from you.

You were still kee-keeing when you caressed his bearded face with both hands, then twined your arms around his neck. But soon, you sobered up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… You had to live with those animals for almost a whole year. I can’t even imagine how deeply shitty that was. How scary,” you said.

Mark huffed, shaking his head. He rubbed your arm and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Heh. I was in hell long before I walked into Palmdale,” he said.

The confession slipped through his lips before he could think better of it, but there it was. Your expression fell even more. With a sigh, he stroked your cheek. Then he carefully withdrew, pulling out of your heat. You both felt the loss with soft groans.

He climbed out of bed just to grab a towel from his bathroom for the cleanup.

This was the first time you’d come to his place, just a couple of days since he took you home from that bar in Downtown. Two days since he came clean to you about what happened in Venice. Two days since you somehow found it in your heart to forgive him.

He still didn’t know what the hell he was doing with you. He hadn’t discussed it with you, hadn’t labelled it. It was almost as if you two had picked up from where you left off, except this time, there was an unknown expiration date.

That reminder literally hit him between the eyes. It forced him to pause in the bathroom and white-knuckle grip the edge of the sink. He grimaced and willed the pain away, stifling a grunt. Fuck...not even a moment's fucking peace.

"You okay?" your voice filtered over from the bedroom. Mark turned his face away from the mirror, just in case you could catch an angle of him.

"Yeah," he said, a little rougher. He breathed in deep, until the sharpest edges were passed. He padded back out and brought the dampened towel back to you.

It was late, but he still checked his phone on the nightstand for any missed notifications. He never knew when he might get called in by Blythe—another thing Mark couldn’t tell you about. He wondered if the taskforce was on your radar anyway, what with how D.A. Valwell was consistently trying to butt into their operations.

So far, you hadn’t mentioned anything weird going on with your boss in the office. Maybe Valwell was keeping you out of it. As he should.

You welcomed Mark back into bed and under the covers, luring him into a kiss as he settled in beside you. He drew you into his arms and couldn’t help but stare. He took in every contour of your face. Every shade of beauty.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Have I said that yet?”

A slight, sad smile twitched at your lips. Your heart pulsed sharply.

“What’s happening to you isn’t your fault. There’s no reason to be sorry,” you said.

“There is a reason,” he nodded. “I didn’t want to leave you twisting in the wind. I just…”

“I know,” you sighed. You watched his profile as he looked ahead, rather than at you directly. A deep breath ran through him, not altogether steady.

“I love you,” he said. He swallowed, jaw clenching. “Think it’s pretty obvious that I never stopped.”

You guided his face back toward you with a gentle hand on his cheek. Your thumb brushed over his lips.

“It’s become painfully clear to me,” you said, “that I’ll never love anyone like I love you.”

Morning came, and you weren’t ready. You didn’t want to leave this house with its familiar smell and its gray-blue walls, which you and Mark painted together. After he inherited the house from his mother, who passed away a few years ago, you helped him clean and touch it up without losing the character of the house.

You were going to officially move in with him after you two got married and let go of your Downtown apartment that was close to your job, but often so empty. Obviously, that move never happened.

“You’re having dinner with your mom tonight, right?” Mark asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You finished tucking in your blouse into your skirt and began to fix your hair in his wardrobe mirror. You had to go into work, and so did he. He was buckling his belt over his jeans, already dressed in a dark green shirt and one of his favorite leather jackets—the black one you helped him pick out.

“Yeah, every Tuesday,” you nodded. You turned and reached for the edges of his jacket. “I know it’s your business to share, but…can I tell her about what you’re going through? That we’re back together? She would want to see you.”

Mark hesitated. “I’d like that too, but let's just keep this between you and me for now.”

You frowned. “I still can’t believe you haven’t told your precinct. How long do you plan to work like this? Mark, what if…what if something happens when you’re on the job? I mean medically.”

He couldn’t blame you for your worry and concern. He held you by your arms and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“You know I’m on a case right now. It’s important,” he said, trying to communicate the gravity of it through his eyes, the tone of his voice. “After that’s done…I don’t know. We’ll talk about it. That and the, uh, second opinion stuff.”

Despite your lingering worry, a small smile peeked through. “At least you said we.”

Mark flickered at a smile too. He bowed down to kiss you on the forehead, lingering there with a short sigh. Ever since he left you, he’d been operating with a reckless head and a worse heart. But if you were determined to stick this out with him, like you seemed to be, then it wasn’t just about him anymore.

He’d have to protect you too.

“Mmm, smells good, Mom,” you said, shutting the door of your childhood home behind you. Inside, the modest three-bedroom house was filled with the rich savory smell of something warm in the oven.

Your mom, Lisette, waved you over with her oven mitt hand.

“Hey, honey. Come ‘ere and taste this.”

She took out a large glass pan filled with beef pot roast, complete with carrots, little yellow potatoes, and charred sprigs of rosemary on top.

“Wow, all that for just the two of us?” you asked, kissing her on the cheek. She just smiled and gave you a forkful after she blew on it first. You took the bite and fairly melted.

“Ughhh, so good. It’s been a long time since you made a whole…” You trailed off as you realized it.

Lisette’s smile turned bittersweet. “Yeah, it was your father’s favorite.”

She took off her oven mitts and left the pan to cool on the counter. She braced a few fingertips on the edge of that counter, as if her mind contained too many memories to sort through. You brushed a hand against her arm, earning her attention.

“Thanks. I brought dessert too,” you said, raising the grocery bag in your hand. You set that on the counter as well. You gave your mom a hug, warm and comforting.

Lisette sighed and hugged you back gratefully. She rubbed your back, like good moms did. But when she pulled back, she noted the smile on your face with a raised brow. It was genuine, not the fake ones you gave to pacify her. In fact, you looked more relaxed, more like yourself.

“You seem…”

“What?” you asked in confusion.

“I don’t know. A little happier today, I guess,” she said. “Did something good happen at work?”

You huffed. “No. Valwell’s antsy and frustrated about something, but every time I ask what’s wrong, he tells me it’s fine. Nothing for me to worry about.”

Not to mention, he’d taken three long lunches at odd times in the past week alone. Every time he got back to the office, he seemed more agitated and upset, storming through the halls like they owed him rent money.

“Well, it’s probably above your clearance, honey,” said Lisette. “If he wanted you to know, he would tell you.”

You frowned thoughtfully, tapping a nail on the counter. Before you could think too hard on it, your mom subtly cleared her throat, the way she always did when she was a bit nervous. She busied herself with grabbing silverware for the dinner table. Your brows drew together.

“You grabbed three sets,” you pointed out.

“Mhmm,” she nodded. “We’re going to be three today.”

“Who else is coming?”

Lisette hesitated, didn’t seem to want to meet your suspicious gaze. “Your sister. I invited her.”

Your face fell. Stony and incredulous.

“You did not.”

“I did. You two haven’t spoken in almost a year.”

“For good damn reason, Mom!”

“I know,” Lisette said, in a sharper voice than you expected. After a moment though, she softened. “I know. What she did to you…it’s frankly incomprehensible. But she’s still your sister. Your father would be sick to know you two are fighting like this.”

A harsh sigh fell from your lips. You rubbed your temples with both hands.

“We’re not fighting,” you said. “I’m just choosing to pretend I’m an only child.”

Lisette gave you a sad frown that spoke more volumes than her words could. You felt a stab of guilt for it, but you didn’t take it back. If you had to see that hateful bitch today, then you wouldn’t hold back this time. It would be on sight.

And…of fucking course.

As if on cue, there was a commotion at the front door. The lock began to turn and click. Then the door slid open, revealing Rachel with her key to the house poised in hand. She was a personal trainer and yoga instructor, so she was wearing her skin-tight Halara leggings (yes, the “TikTok Leggings”), along with a breezy crop top.

She had a chain-link purse strung over her shoulder and oversized sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, but you could still see her eyes widen when she caught sight of you, her steps stopping short in the doorway.

You stared right back at her. Your teeth clenched, like a train grinding against the tracks at a hard stop and shooting off sparks. Everything Mark told you two days ago came rushing through your mind—every unwanted touch, every disgusting, manipulative word she used to try and spin him into her web while he was at his worst.

“What—What’re you doing here?” she said, a frightened little deer caught in your trajectory.

You didn’t even answer. You couldn’t speak.

You just moved, rounding the kitchen counter and cutting through the dining room with a purpose. Rachel squeaked, and she scrambled to back out of the house the way she came in. She flung the door open and retreated.

You followed.

“I know what you really did, you lying, psycho bitch!” you hissed. Your voice carried and seemed to slap Rachel upside the head. She stopped on the stone walkway leading up to the house. She turned around, lifted the sunglasses to the top of her head, and she glared at you warily.

“What’re you talking about?” she shot back.

You laughed in disbelief. “Oh, don’t act dumb now. What you did to Mark isn’t just reprehensible. I should file a report and get you fucking arrested for being a vile cunt.”

Rachel’s eyes flashed. Her face screwed up in anger, so much that she strode back up the steps and slapped you across the cheek. Your head twisted to the side at the stinging blow. You even stumbled a little, but your shock gave way to a grim smile.

Can we say, self-defense?

Her face dawned with realization, just a bit too late. She didn’t even have the instincts to duck your punch.

“Goddamn it. Fucking move, people!” Mark muttered uselessly at the cars in front of him.

It had been a long damn day. It also looked like he and the team were heading to Mexico in the morning. Doing a drug run for Javi, a local cartel boss, would hopefully get them one step closer to finding out who he carried a shipment of goddamn fissile material for. They had to find out who was trying to orchestrate another 9/11 in California.

Mark was on his way home, cutting through L.A. traffic the best he could during rush hour. His stomach was practically attacking his liver in hunger. He also wanted to see you before he left, hopefully for just a day or two.

Didn’t you say you were over at your mom’s for dinner? Damn, that woman could cook.

How many Sunday dinners had he spent with your family in the past five years? All those Christmases and Thanksgivings, birthdays, Fourth of Julys at the beach and Memorial Day backyard barbeques.

Your mom was a sweetheart, too. She always bought him gifts at Christmas, never forgot his birthday, always saved him a special cut of whatever she was cooking. Truth be told, she was like a second mother to him, especially after his mom passed.

Mark sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his head slowly fall back against the headrest. A warning flash of pain echoed through his skull, like a small oyster knife on the twist.

Fuck me.

It would be good to see Lisette—and be able to share another one of those meals with you too, however many of them he had left.

The traffic light finally turned green. Mark found himself changing lanes, then changing directions. Another twenty minutes had him pulling up to your family home on a quiet residential street.

Well, it was usually quiet.

“Aw, shit.” Was that Rachel out there on the driveway? What the hell was she doing here?

She was beelining up those cobblestone steps right for you. She threw you a slap so hard it snapped your head to the right, making your hair fly in your face.

“The fuck?!” His angry brows furrowing, Mark parked the car and unclipped his seatbelt quick, but when he next looked up, he caught sight of your swift left hook.

“God-damn,” he couldn’t help but laugh. As a man of the law, he knew he should've been stepping in right about now, but this opportunity was a little too satisfying to give up. He stayed where he sat to watch the show.

Rachel went down like a sack of shit.

And you didn’t waste no time. You pushed her the rest of the way down into the grassy front yard and got on top of her, pinning her arms behind her back and wedging your knee in her spine. Before she could swing back and headbutt you, you shoved her face into the grass.

Your dad taught you pretty damn well.

Rachel screamed and cried for help, but all it did was fuel your ire. You felt crazy and deranged, but you also felt alive too, for the first time in a long time.

Meanwhile, your mom watched in worry from the porch. Her protests weren’t strong enough to reach you though.

“Get off me, you fat ugly bitch!” Rachel screeched.

You saw a nice little brown pile the neighbor’s dog must’ve left this morning. It was just close enough for you to grab (unfortunately) with your bare hand. You pulled her head back by her hair and smeared dog shit all over her face—her cheeks, her forehead and chin. Her shrill screech reached new heights.

The neighbors could’ve been watching with shocked open mouths and iPhone cameras raised high, but you didn’t give even half of a fuck. You did quiet her down though, by shoving her face back into the dirt. The lawn was still nice and damp from the afternoon sprinklers.

“Yeah? You like that? Keep talking shit and I'll break your fake-ass nose, which I helped pay for!” you shouted. “I waited in that fucking lobby for hours while they hacked off the old one. I gave you cold compresses for your swollen, puffy lobster face. Now how about I snap that shit off like you’re Mr. fucking Potato Head?”

She cried as if you were killing her. Dramatic, as always. But eventually she stopped wriggling and thrashing so much, just shaking her head and sniveling. Realizing she wasn’t about to get out of this so easily, she switched tactics.

"Okay." She splayed her hands out the best she could behind her back in surrender. "Okay! Jesus Christ, I'm sorry!"

“Oh, yeah? You’re sorry? What’re you sorry for?” you asked.

"I already told you I fucked him! I fucked your fiancé!"

"No, but you tried to," you seethed. "You just couldn't, could you? Because he's a good man, and you're a lying slutbag. Isn't that right?"

Rachel tried to deny it, but the harder you shoved her shit-stained face into the wet dirt, the more she coughed and spluttered. You eased up just enough for her to nod her head, lips trembling.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I was wrong. I didn’t mean for it to end up so bad,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just let me go—”

Tears began to sting in your own eyes. “Do you know what you actually stole from me?”

Your breaths shook, along with the inner most depths of your soul. You bent closer to her ear.

“Time. That’s what you took from us,” you said, a coarse whisper. “Time we’ll never get back.”

Rachel continued to cry pitiful tears. You almost, almost started to feel bad for her.

But then, you didn’t. Too many memories were rising to the surface.

“Why’d you do it, huh? Danny Mendez wasn’t enough for you?” you said. “Oh yeah, you remember him, back in high school. You made out with my boyfriend the night of my senior prom, bitch!”

Oh yeah, that was a fun little memory to unlock from the brain bank. You realized now that it established a pattern of behavior, one you still couldn't completely understand. It hurt your heart.

“Why?” you demanded through blurry tears. “Why do you hate me so damn much?”

“Because!” she yelled. Her own tears had mixed with the shit smears on her face. Her lips wobbled. “Everyone thinks you’re so fucking perfect! Mom…Dad…he practically worshipped you.”

Your brows knitted together. “No, he didn’t. What the hell are you talking about? He rode my ass all the time! Way harder than he ever did to you.”

Your dad had been a good man, but he'd also been a fucking hardass. A former marine turned LAPD, from officer to Homicide Detective, and finally Captain. In typical firstborn syndrome fashion, you took on the brunt of his expectations, and even resented him for it at times. But you eventually saw the wisdom and the work ethic he was trying to instill in you.

Then again, it would’ve been better for everyone if he had paid closer attention to Rachel. She had been a wild child who even you had a hard time corralling. Your mom was a loving, nurturing person, but unfortunately, not much of a disciplinarian. Your father had too much on his plate at work to wrangle Rachel in as much as he’d wanted.

“Because he believed in you!” she said. “He didn’t just pick at you or criticize you or tell you what to do like you were one of his little soldiers. He talked to you like…like a person. Even…even when he was dying. He only ever asked for you, or for Mom. He never asked for me.”

You heard the resentment and immature selfishness in her voice, but you also heard the hurt. The deep kind of hurt that could make you lash out at others, just to try to mask the pain.

After a long moment of hearing her pitiful sniffles, you sighed.

“He did ask for you,” you admitted. “That day, when you and Mom went out to get coffee, and it was just me and him…I think he knew it was the end. He opened his eyes for the first time in days, and he said your name. His eyes went all around the room, like he was looking for you.”

Rachel’s body shook underneath you. Her quiet sobs of realization reached your ears.

“I called you, but you didn’t pick up. Maybe you had your phone on silent because we were in the hospital… Anyway, a few minutes later, he was gone,” you said. “But he loved you, Rachel. He just hated that he couldn’t stop you from becoming what you are. Selfish. Insecure. Immature and vindictive. A truly heinous combination.”

Rachel had long stopped fighting you. She just cried and shook like a leaf.

You jolted at a touch on your shoulder. You were surprised to find Mark, looking down at you with calm reassurance and a tinge of humor in his eyes.

“All right, sweetheart. Think she’s had enough,” he said.

Rachel gasped and craned her neck up as far as she could. Her eyes went impossibly wide, her mouth falling open in shock to see him.

Mark helped you up with one hand on your arm and another around your waist. He guided you away from your sister. Rachel pushed off the ground and scrambled shakily to her feet. She wiped at her disgusting face painted with three kinds of shit, but shame was what radiated the most when she looked up at you and Mark.

“I…I’m sorry,” she said.

It was the first time you actually believed her. You didn’t say anything, but you swallowed tightly.

Rachel shot one last glance at Lisette, who was teary herself with disappointment. Rachel grabbed her purse off the ground and retreated quickly to her car. You watched her go, releasing a deep breath and the rest of your fury.

Mark massaged the back of your neck, pressing a kiss to your temple. He felt a surge of pride well up in his chest for you. Not just for being a veritable badass and handling your business, but for still having the kind heart he knew underneath.

“You good, Rocky?” he asked with a note of teasing.

Your lips tugged reluctantly at a smile. You wondered how much he saw. How much he heard. All you knew was, you really needed to get cleaned up.

“I don’t know. I might still be a danger to myself and others,” you said, a little slyly as your gaze ran up to his. “Might even need you to restrain me.”

His brows rose, his resulting grin showing teeth. You still knew how to catch him off-guard, in the best fucking way.

“Mark, is that really you?” your mother asked from the porch.

You two had to put a little pin in your game, for now, but his green eyes were full of promise. His lips twitched upward and he squeezed your waist. Then he looked up.

“Hey, Lisette. Been a while.”

When you and Mark ventured up the steps to join her, Lisette welcomed him into a warm, warm hug. The kind that sunk into his bones and made his shoulders feel a little lighter.

She later sighed and pulled away, giving you both a raised brow.

“It looks like there’s more to the story of what happened last year,” she said.

“That there is,” Mark nodded. He shared a look with you, and with your clean hand, you rubbed his back in support. However he wanted to do this, you would back him up.

“Well, we can talk about it over dinner,” Lisette said. She opened the front door to the house, giving a small smile. “I made a pot roast.”

Mark’s face broke into a grin. “Oh, I’m excited.”

You and your mom had the same laugh, like sweet sunshine.

“You remember my pot roast?” Lisette asked.

“’Course I do. With the little potatoes, sprinkle a’ rosemary?”

Mark held the door open for you like the gentleman he was, and he shut it behind him.

AN: Sister, sister, dog shit eater. Amirite? 🤣

I have another Mark fic in this storyverse for you guys next week! I do have more ideas too (especially after watching 1x05 😭), so I plan to continue this little series as we get deeper into the season. 💜

But until then, I'd love to know what you guys think of this one! I think reader and Mark deserve a lot more "making up for lost time" moments lol. And was her confrontation with Rachel everything you wanted it to be? 😂

Next Time:

Your arms wrapped around his waist from behind. A smile began to tug at his lips on reflex. He felt your head resting against his dewy skin. Your hands inched up his chest and playfully teased with your nails. Little sexy scratch. Little kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he said. A teasing note crept into his voice, “It’s too early for you.”

“You got in late last night.” Again. He’d been pulling late hours all week. Whatever case he was on, you had a feeling it was a big one. He still wouldn’t give you any details though. Not even when he was gone for almost two days, coming back smelling like a rancid farmhouse and covered in sweat and grime.

“I want to see you,” you added softly. “Kinda the whole point of me being here.”

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#lovely review! 💕💕#reader appreciation #the wonderful wayne tag 💙#lovely mutuals #zep replies #mark makes us feral #it's fine

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exquisiteserotonin · 1 day ago

Text

Light My Fire

Pairing: Johnny Storm X Female!Reader

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Word Count: 5451 | Read on AO3

Summary: You're a very serious photographer and journalist, you're less than thrilled about having a shoot with the Johnny Storm. As the shoot progresses you find yourself full of surprises.

Warnings: Oral (Female receiving), Fingering, P in V (protected, come on wrap it up!), Sort of enemies to lovers, but not really

A/N: Let's just say with all the influx of Fantastic Four: First Steps press we have been inundated with I felt very inspired. I find all the period correct ads, magazine covers, and shoots so fun. Joe as Johnny shoots inspired this. I also found a lot of inspiration from old Paul Newman photoshoots that were particularly sexy (you should check them out when you can). This led to a scenario where I thought Johnny could do something different and more...raw as it were. If you've not read any of my other works, I can be pretty long winded and probably set up scenes way too much. Anyway I hope you all enjoy. This is not beta read AT ALL. So be kind. I was just super impatient to share it with you all.

Also this song, bc Joe said so.

It was early. Almost too early, your colleagues would tell you. That was probably true, but arriving early helped you feel more prepared, more in control. You shuffled around your set for today: a large, beautiful home that your friend so generously allowed you to use for the day while she was gone. You floated around, positioning your soft boxes and light umbrellas strategically around the room. You tapped your fingertips to your lips in thought as you envisioned different poses for your model today. It was a futile practice trying to completely plan your shoot beforehand, knowing it would be largely dependent upon the model.

Truth be told, you weren’t looking forward to this shoot, no matter how many people told you that you needed to be. You were shooting THE Johnny Storm, after all. An audible sigh escaped you. The last thing you wanted was to photograph a cocky “superhero” who monopolized his good looks to be in commercials and on the cover of teen magazines. At least this would give your art the exposure you wanted. As much as you hated to admit it, this shoot and this article could be a game changer for your career.

The rest of the team came in starting with your assistant and followed closely by the hair and makeup artists.

“You look cute today,” your makeup artist said with a bright smile.

You’d worked with her before many times, enough that you would consider her a friend. You followed her into a large bathroom the team set up as a dressing room. You glanced at yourself in the mirror as you tightened your red and cream-colored scarf around your ponytail before smoothing the wrinkles out of your white button up blouse and black pedal pushers.

“Hey, sit down for a second,” she said and gestured towards a chair for you to sit down. “It just needs a little something extra.”

You gave her a side eye, but obliged her. A puff of air escaped your lips when you as she opened her case of makeup. She looked back at you squinting her eyes at you. You stiffened, realizing once again how hard it was for you to hide your judgement.

“Relax,” she cajoled you as she grabbed a tube of lipstick and a lip brush, “you just need a little bit of color.”

The bright red of the lipstick blasted your eyes as she twisted it open, coating the brush with color that she swept onto your lips. Your view of yourself in the mirror was obscured by her standing before you and you fidgeted with anxious hands before she moved to let you see yourself.

“A little red lipstick never hurt anyone,” she squealed. “No shame in looking your best for the Johnny Storm.”

You made a feeble attempt to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I’m at work and he’s just,” you paused to toss out a dismissive wave of your hand, “the talent.”

The onset hair stylist stopped her preparations sucking in air with a loud gasp. Now they were both staring at you, their eyes round and wide-open as though you’d uttered the worst sacrilege. The makeup artist snapped the lipstick tube closed before setting it on the counter.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” she added.

She smiled at you and brought her face next to yours in the mirror. She hugged you and joined you in looking at your reflections in the mirror.

“You are going to rock this shoot, my little workaholic,” she said with a playful grin. “I’m just making sure you look extra cute doing it.”

She took the tube of lipstick from the counter and handed it to you with a wink.

“What’s this for?” You asked.

“Oh, you know, in case you need to reapply.”

You raised your brow at her, once again fighting to hold back a roll of your eyes and an exasperated sigh.

“Talent on set!” you heard the voice of your assistant call out.

Johnny Storm strutted into the dressing room just as you moved to go back to the living room to finalize your set up. All your colleagues froze as he strutted in, their eyes being pulled directly to him as though they were being enticed by an unseen magnetic field. Immune to it, you barely noticed when he held out his hand to introduce himself to you.

“I’m shooting with you today, right?” He flashed a smile at you; his hand still extended towards you. “I’m Johnny Storm.”

You studied his face and how it beamed with what felt like overconfidence. A flicker of impatience twinkled in his blue eyes while his hand began to waiver slightly as he waited for you to take it. You swore you heard a low sigh mixed with relief and exasperation escape him when you finally took it in a firm handshake.

“You did your homework,” you acknowledged him with a surprised and impressed nod of your head before introducing yourself.

“Your body of work precedes you,” Johnny said, his lips curling up into a half smile as he squeezed your hand.

The play on words wasn’t lost on you and you saw your friend’s eyes scream at you to hold back the eye roll she knew you wanted to let go. Somehow you managed and noticed he wasn’t a hard read as you held his gaze with your own. The charm oozed off him like a second skin. His reputation had preceded him as well and so far, you weren’t impressed with it. You hoped as the shoot went on, he’d be able to give you something a little more than this nicely packaged heartthrob persona that he made sure to show everyone he met.

“Ok, Mr. Storm, I’ll leave you to it,” you said, gesturing towards the hair and makeup chair. “I’m just going to do one more lighting test and I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“You don’t want to discuss possible shots or poses?” He asked with a raised brow. “You can also call me Johnny, by the way.”

“Well, I like my shoots to be heaps more organic and natural,” you explained to him. “So don't worry your pretty little head; I think I’ve got it covered Mr. Storm.”

You sashayed away and gestured towards your assistant. You held her hand closely and pulled her in towards you.

“Artistic control is important,” you explained to her as she listened intently, “make sure we let the team know what I’m expecting and this will be the best shoot.”

A large wall of windows brightened the room, bringing the outside in. But it wasn’t what you wanted. What Johnny Storm didn’t know was that you had done your homework too. Every photoshoot you’d seen him do was bright, colorful, and geared towards a younger demographic ready to buy any magazine that had a fold out poster of him. You pulled the roller shades down on every other window allowing for a mix of dark and light. It would be a way for you to play with light and shadows in a creative way. Bold. Dramatic. And as much as you hated using the word in this context, smoldering.

You held your hand out in front of you visualizing in your mind’s eye the flow of your shoot. You were so lost in your thought, you barely noticed the clicks of Johnny’s feet on the terrazzo floor signaling his entrance.

“Are you ready for me?” He inquired and you turned to face him.

He stood before you, wearing a perfectly pressed dress shirt in a deep rusty orange and beige dress slacks. You beheld him in silence with a tilt of your head. He furrowed his brow as you studied him. He looked nice, perfectly acceptable in appearance, if you were going to bring him home to meet your parents. That may have worked for Teen Living Magazine, but not for you.

You stepped forward and gestured towards his shirt, “May I?”

“Um, sure…,” he acquiesced but you heard the caution in his voice.

You released a breathy chuckle as took hold of his right arm and began unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt, “Relax, it’ll look good on camera.”

“And if it doesn’t,” he said with a chuckle, “can I burn the film?”

“Oh well,” you said with a laugh rising up in spite of yourself while you rolled up the other sleeve, “you fancy yourself a comedian huh?”

“Nothing fancy about it,” he said with a playfulness in his eyes, “just organic, natural even.”

You begged for your expressions not to betray you, but couldn’t help but be a smidge impressed that he turned his words back to you. You couldn’t help but notice how his hands were soft but also strong. The veins at the back of his hands traveled to his wrist and forearms. He kept steady as you rolled up the sleeves of his shirt quickly, not paying any attention to if it was neat or not. Undone was better.

Your sole focus had been rolling up his sleeves, so when you looked up it took you aback to see him holding an unrelenting gaze upon you. It was the first time you really noticed him: the vivid blue of his eyes, his chiseled jaw, and his full, rosy lips. Your eyes darted to his tightly buttoned collar and looked up at him.

“Do you mind if I just—,” your voice trailed off as you pointed to the neck of his shirt.

“Sure,” he replied, his voice lowered as you stepped forward. “You have the vision.”

You approached him with a gentle touch of your hands, bringing your fingers to unbutton the top button, then a second one. You avoided eye contact, but you could feel his eyes on you and as you made the decision to undo one last button an immediate feeling of heat rushed over you. You looked up at Johnny, confused, feeling your cheeks and chest flush as though you’d just walked outside on a hot summer day.

“Just one more thing,” you said before, ever so slightly, mussing his perfectly set blonde hair with your fingers.

A sigh escaped your lips and you both seemed to heave a sigh of relief as you backed away from him. You gestured for him to find his way to the sunken living room while you positioned yourself behind your tripod a few feet away from him. Your assistant shuffled in next to you, taking one look at Johnny only to let out an interesting blend of a sigh and squeak.

“Oh, he looks extra dreamy!” She whispers to you in awe, fighting to contain her excitement.

You tilted your head towards her and silenced her with a raise of your brow. She tightened her lips and let you work. You observed him as he walked around the large sunken living space. You followed him with your viewfinder, snapping photos of him looking out the window, admiring the view, his hands instinctively finding his pockets. The sound of your camera shutter caught his attention and he turned to you. The creativity in your mind sparked with elation as you caught his perfectly unguarded, but inquisitive expression that showed in how he raised one eyebrow with his lips slightly parted.

“Oh, you’ve started,” he called out, as he started walking towards you.

You smiled and unlatched your camera from the tripod, “I feel like I’ve already gotten a few great shots—not to say you haven’t done great shoots before—I’m just hoping to capture a side of Johnny Storm we rarely get to see.”

”And what side would that be?” He asked, rubbing his fingers across his smug smile and downward to his chin.

You found him again in your viewfinder at that exact moment. The innate feeling that you had caught something magical took over and fed your creative energy. You stopped and held your camera down at your waist, searching for silent answers that may have revealed themselves in the spark in his eyes and in the twitch of his lips.

“I don’t know—you tell me,” you replied earnestly. “What do you really wish people knew about you?”

Johnny paused and looked out the window, his entire demeanor brimming with contemplation. You moved towards him, drawn towards the beauty of his profile. You snapped another photo.

He took a long, deep breath before turning eyes to you. That same heat began to creep up again. It was a little more intense this time as his stare locked in on you like a target. Another photo.

“There’s not much to hide,” he finally replied, “it’s hard not to be an open book when you’re living in a glass house.”

You brought your camera to your side, not satisfied with his answer. Though an unexpected feeling of sympathy kindled as you observed his bravado slowly start to slip away. You gestured for him to move closer to you, pointing towards a spot on the built-in sofa.

“Lean back here,” you told him, seating him half in the shadows and half in the light.

“Whatever you say, boss.”

Johnny obliged with a wink and rested his left forearm on his thigh while he fiddled with his collar with the other. You slipped off your ballet flats and sat on the sofa next to him tucking your legs beneath you in a kneeling position. You took a photo, the light and shadows framing and accentuating his handsome features. His eyes somehow appeared larger and his lips somehow fuller.

“That’s just a persona though isn’t it: The Human Torch?” You added thoughtfully. “I don’t believe that’s you all of the time.”

Johnny had been looking down at his hands before he looked up at you. His expression softened and the lines on his face disappeared with an unexpected vulnerability that he seemed desperate to hide. He leaned forward, closing the space between you. The dew of perspiration accumulated at your forehead and at your chest as he looked at you.

“That’s kind of what people expect,” Johnny said in a low whisper.

His lips were slightly parted and his brow slightly furrowed, revealing a few lines on his forehead. They revealed a frustration unspoken and a pressure that welled beneath his handsome and well-coiffed exterior. It was yet another photo that begged to be taken, especially when he looked more handsome in that moment than when walked through the door. The set was so quiet that you immediately noticed the quick intake of breath he took and the tight clasp of his hands as soon as you took the photo.

Sensing his discomfort, you set your camera down next to you, placing your hands in your lap before leaning into the back of the sofa.

“You don’t have to meet everyone else’s expectations,” you told him, holding his image in the camera of your brain. “Just your own.”

Johnny leaned back against the coach and shifted his body to face you. You stared at each other in silence for a moment and that same heat you felt earlier circulated through the entire room. As his body relaxed, you observed how his lips curled into a playful smile. The heat was beginning to make you woozy but you still managed to take up your camera to capture this moment of ease that Johnny had finally given into.

You took a deep breath and gesture for your assistant to come to the sunken living room. She tugged at her shirt and you noticed from the slight flush of her cheeks that heat was affecting her too. You fan yourself and push a bead of sweat back into your hair.

“Could you get me a water and maybe one for Johnny, too,” his ears perked when you called him by his first name. “And check on the thermostat too, it’s starting to get really hot in here.”

“That’s hard too,” Johnny’s voice trailed off as he continued your conversation, “when your own expectations are already high.”

“Because you’re a superhero?” You questioned. “Seems unfair and unrealistic to hope and pray for a moment to be saved by someone like you, or the rest of your family for that matter.”

“It’s too bad more people don’t see it that way,” stretching his arms back behind him before resting the back of his head in his hands.

You brought your hand to your forehead, swiping the sweat from your face before picking up your camera to take another photo. He smiled and tilted his head towards you, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

“You know, this,” you pointed at him, his body at ease, “this is way hotter than anything you could ever do for Teen Living.”

A boisterous laughter left him in response to your words, a laugh you were able to capture on film.

“That’s all part of the spectacle too, isn’t it?” He said as you stood up to get a few more full body shots.

“I didn’t want the spectacle today, everyone gets that.” Your voice was soft and you hoped it was filled with kindness. “I just wanted to see you.”

Johnny continued to walk towards you and the heat continued to rise with sweat beading down the neck of your blouse. Despite the growing heat, you felt frozen as he moved to close the gap between you. So, this, this was the Johnny everyone swooned over. You fell into a nearly frantic state as he moved closer, his face so dangerously close to yours.

The quick clicks of your assistant’s feet on the terrazzo took you from the moment. You turned to her, flustered and your cheeks rosy. You could easily lie to her at that moment and blame it on the rising heat. She held out the two waters you had asked for. You could see her hair was damp at her temples, yet another sign of the relentless heat.

“The thermostat seems to be working fine,” she informed as she wiped sweat away from her upper lip.

“This is too much, we can’t work like this,” you told her with a disappointed shake of your head. “There’s got to be something wrong with the air conditioning. I’ll talk to my friend, but you, and the hair and makeup team should go home.”

She nodded and you let them go to pack up their things. You turned back to Johnny, your shoulders sloping down in disappointment. You shook your long ponytail off your back, letting the back of your neck air out from the heat.

“Can I at least help you pack up your equipment?” Johnny asked, pointing towards your camera.

Before you could answer, your assistant and the rest of the team walked past you. They waved goodbye as they fanned themselves, desperate to get away from the heat. Their voices rang out in one more loud goodbye before the door closed behind them.

“You don’t need to do that,” you insisted as he moved close to you again, his hands open to assist you. “I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed we couldn’t finish the shoot—I think I was about to make a breakthrough.”

Johnny smiled and took the camera from your hands. He pointed it in your direction, snapping a photo of you. He handed it back to you, his eyes scanning your face from your eyes to your lips and back up again.

“I would say that you did,” Johnny replied as you set the camera down on the coffee table next to you.

You fought to keep your breaths even and calm with each centimeter he moved towards you. You closed your eyes as you drew in deep breath and were met with the sight of his handsome face, dangerously close to yours once again.

“H-how so?” You ask, as you grip your still bare feet to the floor like you were bracing yourself for something.

“I told you I’m not great at hiding certain things,” he explained as his hand closed in on your arm, haunting you with a ghost of his hot touch. “There’s probably nothing wrong with the thermostat; the heat—,”

Your jaw drops in realization that it was Johnny all along. The heat. You should have known and you felt like kicking yourself.

“It was you,” you sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his voice lowering with a hint of embarrassment, “when it’s something like this, sometimes, it’s hard to control it.”

You watched his expression change before you as he recognized and read your thought process. The same vulnerability he had shown you moments ago returned as he turned his gaze away from you. It silently revealed his uncertainty about how you’d react to his explanation. Drawn to him, just as your colleagues had been, you pressed your hand to his collar. You began to fidget with it before tip-toeing your fingers along his neck up to his jaw. Realizing you had nothing to lose, you pulled him in for a kiss. You pushed your body into his and you felt his heat and the way his member reached for you against his pants. His hands, then his arms slipped around your waist and he parted your lips with his tongue.

“Then don’t control it,” you whispered into his ear when you parted your lips from his.

His hand was steady on your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck until they found themselves pulling at the scarf holding your ponytail. He let the scarf drop to the floor and your waves cascaded down your back. A gasp and squeal left your body as he lifted you. He squeezed your ass, coaxing you to wrap your legs around his waist while he carried you back to the couch.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed out, his hands sliding to the front of your shirt, unfastening every button.

You helped him push your shirt off you. Your breaths grew faster and faster as he kissed your lips, your chin, your neck, and the tops of your breasts. As he did, you reached behind you to unclasp your bra. Johnny’s breaths burned your skin with desire and he pulled your bra from your body, exposing your nipples that he swiftly began exploring with his tongue.

“Oh my god,” you moaned as his mouth moved down your waist.

You closed your eyes when his lips met the waist of your pants. You weren’t able to stop your breaths from quickening as he pulled your pants down your hips. With a gruff moan he tossed them across the floor. With one deep breath you lifted your head to meet his blue eyes staring into you. He massaged up your calves to your thighs with his warm hands, and placed kisses between your legs. He pushed your legs open wider, caressing a damp spot at your panties with a gentle touch that made your back arch.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, rubbing his fingers up and down the soft fabric, the lone barrier between you and him.

“Johnny,” you whined, your pussy trembled and clenched in desperation for him. “Do something, please.”

You squeezed your eyes tight, surrendering to each sensation his hands and lips bloomed in your body. His fingers hooked into the sides of your panties, pulling them down the length of your legs. You were near delirious with desire as you waited in desperation for whatever he did next. Your eager anticipation couldn’t prepare you for the euphoric feeling of Johnny dipping into your folds, with a long, slow, and hot press of his tongue.

“Jesus,” you gasped as he licked through your folds, deeper, slower, and better than you’ve ever been licked by any man.

The sounds that echoed out from Johnny’s mouth as he devoured you grew louder and more obscene. The pleasure vibrated through every fold, moving outward like growing ocean waves in a storm. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes while you gripped at the cushions of the couch, your body growing hotter, your heart beating faster, and your breaths growing more and more shallow.

“I love the way you taste,” Johnny growled as he let go of you to take a breath.

“Please don’t stop!” you begged, your hands clutching his forearms.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he moaned, his hot breath caressing your skin.

One finger, then two found its way inside you. You wiggled and writhed at his touch, knowing with each move he made it was only going to get better. He proved it as quickly as the thought came to the front of your mind, the tip of his tongue finding your clit. You cried out a chorus of “oh gods” followed by a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush as his tongue flicked and rolled passionately upon your clit as he continued to pump in and out of you with his fingers. Your toes curled and you threw your head back as the peak of your pleasure erupted and you felt wave after wave resonate through every nerve ending of your body.

“Johnny!!” You let out a long, loud moan from the back of your throat as you came.

Sweat rested over your body like a beautiful, morning dew. You panted as Johnny released his mouth from your center. As you caught your breath you managed to open your eyes to see him beginning to undress, discarding his shirt to the floor, followed by his pants. He stood before you in his blue briefs. The sight of him palming his erection paired with the remaining shivers of your orgasm left you in a state of near delirium. You tried to compose yourself in preparation for him. That ridiculous sunscreen billboard wasn’t an exaggeration. His body was just that good.

“I need you,” you sighed at the sight of him, finally catching your breath enough to stand up.

He practically lunged at you after your words left your lips. His hands explored your back, your hips, and your ass as he kissed you. You threaded your fingers through his soft, blonde hair and pressed your naked body to his, moaning at the feeling of his erection against you. You walked him backwards towards the couch, before admiring his entire being with your eyes. His shoulders and biceps were defined and the line of his abs drew your gaze straight to his cock. He understood what you needed without you uttering a word and he pulled his briefs off to join your clothes, like refuse you had no need for. His cock stood at the height of attention and twitched and pulsed in want for you.

“Sit down,” you said, a simultaneous order and a plea that he was more than willing to oblige.

You stood over him as he looked up at you, his hands explored your hips and ass until you placed a leg on either side of him. You took his hard cock with a few pumps of your hand before you sat lower on his lap, rubbing your wet center onto him. His hands journeyed up your right side, massaging your breasts until he continued up to hold the back of your neck.

“Are you sure?” He growled into your ear, realizing he didn’t have any protection on him.

“It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

He moaned a sigh of relief as you continued to rub yourself on him. Hot, heaving breaths escaped from his gorgeous mouth as you lined him up at your entrance before finally lowering yourself onto him.

“My god,” he growled as you began to move on top of him, savoring every inch of his girthy cock with a squeeze of your pussy.

The pleasure of being in control of him only made you want to roll your hips harder on him. His mouth dropped open with a low moan and his eyes widened in ecstasy as you rode him. You smiled as you arched your back into his hands that braced you against him with a secure grip. You pressed your forehead to his as you bounced, your sweat mixing with his in the most perfect union. You squeezed his face with your hands to pull him in for a messy and wild kiss. When you looked into his eyes, you swore you saw a spark in them just before he thrust his hips hard up into you.

“Oh shit, Johnny,” you yelped as he hit the perfect spot over and over with his relentless upward thrusts that grew faster and faster.

If he kept this up, neither of you would last very long. You arched your back towards him, his lips kissing your chest until his tongue found your right nipple. His hungry growls filled the room in symphony with your whimpers and moans. He continued to drive into you while you met each thrust with a rhythm of your hips that matched his.

“Jesus,” he growled through gritted teeth, “I’m going to come.”

You knew it already. The signs were all there: fast breaths, sweat spread over every inch of your bodies, the way you trembled against each other, each move felt like something out of control for both of you. Best of all, you felt it. You couldn’t stop your pussy from squeezing his cock. The way the head of his cock, hit that exact spot over and over and over until you could no longer speak. You could only hold onto him tighter and dig your nails into his back and surrender your body to him.

“M--me too,” you squealed breathlessly, “oh god, oh god, oh god!”

His fingers gripped hard into your flesh as he abandoned all control with the roughest, strongest final thrust that was accompanied by a loud groan that filled the large room as he filled you. Not far behind, you chanted out an invocation composed only of his name as you fell apart in final worship of his cock.

Your foreheads collapsed against each other, feeling each other's hot breaths blend together. Your sweat began to cool each other as you came down from the ultimate ecstasy. You felt him twitch inside you one last time, making you shudder with a shaky breath. You lifted your hips and sighed as he pulled out of you.

“Is this the side of Johnny Storm you were hoping for?’ He asked as he pushed your sweat-laden tresses from your face.

You shook your head with a coy smile, “Better; but I’m pretty sure that all of that was off the record.”

“Hmmm,” Johnny pushed his lips forward in a teasing pout, “I suppose we could try again.”

“Pretty certain anything we do from this point forward is going to have to be off the record.”

The corners of his lips, still puffy and full of lust, turned up into a coy smile. He pushed his hips upwards toward you again before pulling you in for a slow, sensual kiss.

“What a sacrifice!!” He teased, as he intertwined his hand in your hair, before caressing a gentle finger to your lips. “Your lipstick is a little smeared.”

“Oh no!” You exclaimed, your cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

“No, no,” Johnny reassured, his eyes mesmerized by you, “you’re beautiful.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at his gentle words. But an unexpected sweeping sound of the front door opening startled you both into action. You grabbed Johnny’s shirt to cover yourself, while he scurried to grab a cushion—the only thing ample enough to cover him.

“I just remembered I left my red lipstick with you—OH!”

It was your makeup artist standing before you, her jaw dropping at the sight of you. You stared at her and watched as her mouth turned into a glee-filled smile.

“Yes, umm—can I get it back to you sometime?” You requested as you buried your face in Johnny’s shoulder.

“Absolutely, no worries—in fact you should just keep it!” She insisted before mouthing the words: Oh my god, it worked!

As quickly as she burst in, she was gone. You and Johnny looked at each other in a few moments of silence before you both erupted with uproarious laughter. It was the only way to respond to the moment.

“So, same time next week?” You teased before giving a small peck on the lips.

“Damn, not sooner?”

“Will you be able to fit me into your busy superhero schedule?”

“Oh, trust me,” he replied, pulling you into him, “I’ll find the time.”

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn characters #johnny storm joseph quinn #jonathan lowell spencer storm #joe quinn #joseph quinn fandom #fantastic four first steps #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x you #johnny storm smut #human torch #Spotify #johnny storm x female reader

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ta3mint · 1 day ago

Note

okok i LOVEDDD blush, now i need a part 2 of the reader and minho walking back to the dorms after leaving the party ofc y/n is still pretty out of it from the alcohol and the whole walk back y/n is being very giddy and flirty bc they both just confessed their feelings to each other so she’s giving him praises and being very h word towards him (bc lowkey i be like that too when im drunk and sometimes when you’re drunk people just seem a lot more attractive) minho is a lil taken a back but loving every second of it, once they reach the dorms y/n has now sobered up a bit, she remembers the confession, but doesn’t remember anything else she said/did (doesn’t really recall making out with him either) after that and minho is teasing her about it they end up finishing what they started at the party, but decide to go a little further 👀. i also just wanna see domesticated lee know taking care of y/n to feed my acts of service love language

Blush (Part 2)

Contains: sequel to Part 1, university au Minho x female reader smut

Warnings: minors do not interact!!, Mentions of alcohol/being drunk, cursing, vague mentions of nausea, Minho being a possessive little shit, teasing, kind of dom Minho but not too crazy (still a consent king), use of the word slut, fingering, unprotected piv sex (don't do this!!)

Word Count: 6,000

Author's note: okay okay, I tweaked the order of events just a bit because I like the way it ended up flowing <3 I hope it's what you're looking for and that you like it!! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) you know where to find me.

Despite Minho offering several times to get someone to drive you back to your dorm, you declined each time. Something told you that being in a car right now would only make your stomach churn even more than it already was, now that the alcohol was trying to work its way out of your system.

Minho reluctantly continued walking you back to your dorm, supporting your weight as much as he could when you were walking more slowly with each step you took.

You groaned suddenly and Minho froze in concern.

"Maybe we should sit down on the sidewalk for a second, (Y/N)."

He didn't let you agree or disagree with him, and instead settled you down on the nearest part of the sidewalk before sitting down beside you.

You had to admit, not moving felt great for the time being. Some of your mental clarity had started to come back, and some of it...had not. You couldn't remember exactly what had happened at the party a little while ago besides the confession, but you knew that you were grateful for Minho to be here taking care of you.

The more you thought about it and thought about him...the more wild your imagination began to be. And the more you imagined, the more came out of your big mouth.

"Minho, thank you for taking care of me," you giggled, leaning over onto his shoulder for support. You reached out your hand and placed it on his thigh closest to you, squeezing it hard in your drunken, maybe slightly turned on state. "I've always wanted to feel these," you finished in a whisper.

Minho watched where your hand landed on his thigh and he swallowed hard.

You couldn't help but notice the sheen of sweat on his skin, likely brought on by him basically supporting your entire body weight on this long walk back to your dorm room. The way his chest rose and fell, the way his breath fanned across the top of your head...it was driving you crazy.

"Are you just saying that?" Minho asked you quietly, the slightest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You shook your head almost violently.

"No, no. I mean it," you whispered, sitting up slightly so that you could see his face better. "You are beautiful, every part of you. I've always thought so."

Minho gave in to his urge to smile before he stood up. He reached out a hand to you to help you up, and you returned his smile as a ''thank you''.

"Come on, then. You can tell me more about it once we get to your room."

Thankfully, you were almost there. You could see your building now, at least. But sitting down for a few minutes had really helped. You felt more steady while walking this time around, and your thoughts weren't as clouded.

Minho got to the bottom of the steps that led up to the second floor where your room was at. You were trailing behind just a bit, but not too much. Once you closed the gap, Minho glanced between where you stood and the top of the stairs a few times.

"I don't know if you walking up the steps right now is a good idea," Minho said, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Oh, please. I'll be fine!"

You brushed past him and put one foot on the first step. Looking at all the steps after that one though...

"Okay," you sighed in defeat, "Maybe not."

Minho chuckled. "Like I said..."

"What are we supposed to do then? The elevator has been broken for days, Minho."

He looked up the stairs once more and then back at you, a mischievous glint forming in his eyes. He then pondered his next words carefully.

"You said you like it when I take care of you?"

You nodded slowly, not sure exactly where this was going.

Minho put a hand on your shoulder, sending what felt like electric currents through your body. You sharply drew in a breath as he leaned in close to your ear, like he wanted only you to hear what he was about to say.

"Then be a good girl and let me carry you to your room."

The hallway around you started spinning. Whether it was the last bit of the alcohol or his words...you weren't sure.

"Okay," you whispered in return.

Minho bent over slightly and placed one arm under the back of your legs and the other behind your shoulders. With surprising ease, he swept you up into his arms and glanced down at you.

"This okay?"

"Mmhmm," was all you could manage.

"Good," he breathed out with a smile.

You couldn't look anywhere else other than at his face while he carried you up the steps. His smile alone was enough to make you melt, and it always had been. But he looked so gorgeous from the side like this, you felt as if you were studying him like a textbook. Had he always looked this good?

Who were you kidding, of course he had.

Minho could feel you staring and despite knowing better, he couldn't help but eat it up.

"See something you like, (Y/N)?"

Heat crept up from your neck into your cheeks, and that was what it took for you to finally blink after staring for so long.

"Sorry, I can't help it. I've looked at you from what felt like far away for so long...it's nice to finally be able to see you up close."

"The feeling is mutual."

Minho glanced down at your lips and back up at your eyes, so quickly you weren't sure if you had imagined it or not. But now you were at your door, and he was setting you down.

You rummaged in your bag and got your key out to unlock your door. It creaked open, and you stepped inside, Minho standing behind you almost timidly compared to how he had acted a few moments ago.

"You can come in, you know."

Minho blinked a few times and stepped in after you, looking around your living room.

It still looked just like you had left it. Clothes everywhere from trying to decide what to wear and accessories strewn about on random surfaces. But this was where you normally got ready since you had a better mirror in here compared to the one in your bedroom.

"Sorry for the mess...getting dressed for the party was stressful."

You tugged at the bottom of your skirt, suddenly hyper aware of how short it actually was. Minho followed your movements, before clearing his throat and turning around.

"Let's get you something to eat and drink that isn't alcohol."

As soon as he finished speaking, your stomach grumbled.

"Yeah, I'm starving. And I feel a lot better now," you said as you flopped onto your small couch by the door.

"Good," Minho said earnestly.

You watched as he dug around your small kitchen cabinets. He was wearing a loose hoodie with a white tank top underneath. This was the first time that you noticed how built he actually was. Lean, taut muscles pulling against the fitted white fabric of his tank top, covered up every few seconds by his hoodie when it shifted as he moved. The silver necklace he wore swayed and bounced against his perfectly defined chest. Not too big and not too obvious. It was like a secret he kept, and you were just now hearing it for the first time.

"Are these okay?" Minho asked, holding up two packs of instant noodles.

His words cut your thoughts short, and you gave him a thumbs up, not trusting your mouth right now.

Minho turned to get some water for the noodles and you decided you needed to look at something else. Like literally anything else, for right now.

You pulled out your phone and instantly saw how many messages were in the group chat with you and the guys.

Felix had sent that video only minutes after you left the party, and the guys were letting you have it.

"Finally, it was getting painful."

"Geez, Minho, didn't know you had it in you."

"It should've been me!!"

Okay, so maybe your phone was something you didn't need to look at right now either. But you couldn't remember exactly what happened in the video Felix took. So, against your better judgement, you clicked on it.

Your cheeks were on fire as you watched yourself grab at Minho and him eventually kissing you.

Felix was struggling to not make any noise, and you could tell he was trying not to laugh.

"What are you looking at?" Minho asked, coming over to sit next to you with two bowls of noodles and two bottles of water.

"Did I...uhh...on the bench...did we?"

Minho snickered, setting the bowls down to cool off.

"You practically begged me to."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as it all came crashing back to you. The plan you made, getting Felix to help you...all of it.

"That isn't how I really wanted our first kiss to go..." you trailed off, reaching for your noodles that were still slightly too hot. "I was just so nervous. I thought alcohol was the answer."

Minho listened to you speak, a genuine expression on his face. But he didn't interrupt.

"I hope you don't think differently of me."

He shook his head, reaching out to brush some hair out of your face.

"Never. I was nervous too. Now, eat your noodles, and let's relax, okay?"

The two of you ate silently, the only sounds in the room being your forks hitting the sides of your bowls. Finally eating something was definitely what you needed, and you were becoming your usual self.

But...

Your thoughts started wandering again. This definitely wasn't the alcohol anymore, this was just you. Finally giving into the fact that you and your best friend had confessed to each other, and you were sitting right next to him in a different context than before.

Something caught you off guard as you ate the last bite of noodles, however.

During the course of your thoughts wandering, Minho had removed his hoodie and threw it on the back of the couch behind him. Now he was sitting beside you in just the white tank top and his tight black pants.

You nearly choked on the last bite when you realized, and Minho almost jumped out of his skin.

"First day eating, too? Shit, you scared me," he grumbled as he clapped you gently on the back.

The choking had subsided, but tears had formed in your eyes in the meantime from how hard you had been coughing.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," you stuttered, wiping your eyes forcefully. "Just warn me next time you start stripping in my room. You're lucky I don't have roommates."

Minho scoffed. "You call this stripping? I only took off my hoodie because the noodles made me hot. Look at you, talking about stripping. Your ass has been hanging out of that skirt all night."

You froze, an icy wave of surprise taking over your body. These words were in stark contrast to the ones from before, when the both of you had been talking about how nervous you were. But it only took a second to recuperate, and you decided to have some fun with him. The way he looked, the way he sounded, the way he talked...it had been driving you wild since you started walking back to the dorms, drunk or not. You wanted to finish what you started.

"How would you know? Had you been looking?"

Now it was Minho's turns to be caught off guard, his ears turning a deep crimson.

"Don't play dumb. How could I not have looked? A few hours ago, I had what I thought was an unrequited crush on you. I had to stare in secret. Now, I can stare as obviously as I want." Minho threw his arm lazily over your shoulders before continuing. "Unless you don't want me to."

He gave you a quick side eye and instantly laughed when he saw you open and close your mouth several times, not being able to make words come out. Looks like he was better at playing with you than you were at playing with him.

"You are my girlfriend now, right? Isn't that what this is?"

You shot to your feet without thinking, Minho's arm falling to his side on the couch.

"I...I'm going to the bathroom!"

Minho called out to you in concern, but you ignored him. Your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest and you needed a minute.

You all but ran to your bathroom, shutting the door behind you in a hurry. Then you made the mistake of glancing at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair and makeup were a mess, but your clothes looked okay. Your skin was flushed and slightly shiny from what you could safely assume was a layer of nervous sweat. It looked like you but also...didn't.

You decided to fix your hair and take off all your makeup, since it was ruined anyway. This alone helped you feel cleaner and more put together. You couldn't believe that this version of you was what Minho had been looking at for the last little while. It made you cringe. Just for the sake of feeling even more like yourself, you also decided to quickly brush your teeth.

You made your way back to the couch, but Minho was no longer there. You sat down and watched as he rinsed out both of your bowls and placed them in the sink. His arms were another dirty little secret he had been keeping, perfectly sized muscles flexing as he worked in the dim light of your kitchen.

You could't help but imagine what they would look like wrapped around you, holding you close as-

"Hey, there you are." Minho was walking back over to where you had sat back down on the couch. "Feel okay?"

The way he was flipping back and forth between teasing you and being concerned for you was enough to make your head start spinning again.

"Oh, yeah, I just wanted to freshen up. I felt gross."

Minho hummed and knelt in front of you, giving your ankle a quick poke.

"You still have these heels on. Do you want them off?"

You gulped, looking down at him as he made eye contact with you from below. He looked almost ethereal now, the way his eyes glistened and his brows knit together, waiting on you to answer him so he knew what he had permission to do.

"Please," you all but squeaked.

Minho laughed quietly.

"So you like being taken care of and teased huh? I'll remember that."

You watched as he undid the first heel, seemingly getting the hang of all the straps pretty quickly. Using one hand to pull the shoe off, he used the other to grip your heel in order to keep you balanced. Then he repeated the same thing for the other shoe.

"Feels better, right?"

You managed an "mhmm" as you stared at where his hand still gripped your left heel, even though the shoes were long gone.

"I can't decide," Minho said suddenly.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion, not sure what he was referring to.

"I can't decide if I should be polite, or..." he whispered, dragging his hand from your heel to your knee, and then finally to your exposed upper thigh, "If I should let you know just how crazy you've been making me this entire time. All your little comments and the way I obviously make you feel...I've already slipped up a few times tonight. But here we are. And I never thought we would be here. It's enough to make me wanna lose any control I have left."

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart sped up again, so much so that you could hear it beating in your ears.

"I've been in love with you for years, (Y/N). I have dreamed of being this close to you, of being able to touch you like this," he continued, fiddling with the edge of your skirt on your thigh, "But I also try my best to be a gentleman. The kind of man you would want for a long, long time."

The room suddenly felt heavy and oh, so hot.

"So, now that you are feeling more like yourself and can give me honest answers, I just can't help but be tempted..." He stood slowly, placing his other hand on your right thigh.

Now that both of his hands were on you, gripping you tightly as he leaned over you on the couch, you felt as though you were short circuiting.

But it ended as soon as it started.

Minho let go of you suddenly with a groan and reached for his hoodie.

"I should go now," he said, as if the past five minutes didn't happen. "It's getting really late. And you need to sleep."

He turned back around and placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. You barely registered anything that was going on. You were completely stunned after having been thrown into a complete 360. The almost shy, sarcastic boy you had been crushing on for years had a completely different side to him that you had never seen.

You wanted to see more.

"Text me in the morning, okay?"

Minho started walking towards the door, but your hand was on his wrist the second he turned away. He stumbled a bit and looked back at you in confusion.

"Stay," you whispered, almost inaudibly. "Please."

"Why?"

Your head was spinning, your thoughts bouncing off of each other and then disappearing before you could say anything that made sense. All you knew was that you didn't want him to leave. You wanted him to stay and above all...you wanted to feel him touch you again.

"Why, (Y/N)?" Minho repeated.

You swallowed hard.

"Because, I..."

Minho watched as you struggled to decide what to say. He couldn't help but be amused with the way he made you feel.

"I want you to kiss me again. But for real this time. I want to remember it."

Minho paused for a few seconds. You stood up from the couch to be closer to him, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He couldn't help but stare at the way your breasts pushed against the fabric of your low cut top.

"I'm your girlfriend, right? Isn't that what you said? I want you to kiss me."

That was all it took for Minho to fall apart completely.

He dropped his hoodie on the floor, not caring where it landed. Then he grabbed your face forcefully and his lips crashed into yours.

This kiss was beyond different from the one you shared on the bench at the party. That one had been fueled by giddy nerves and cheap alcohol. This one was laced with something deeper, something more primal. Minho kissed you hard...telling you things that he didn't need to say with words. At least, not yet.

At first, you had frozen. But once you registered what was going on, your entire body melted into him. His hands fell from your face to your hips, which he then used to turn you around so that you were backed up against the nearest wall. He was gentle, yet firm, so as not to hit your head.

Your fingers tangled in his perfect, dark hair to steady yourself, and he shivered at the feeling.

Minho gripped your hips tighter, his fingertips threatening to leave tiny bruises on your delicate skin. Your mouth parted slightly at the sensation, and Minho took the opportunity to slot his tongue against yours. It quickly got even more heated, both of your chins covered in remnants of each others' saliva.

Tongue and teeth and slippery skin...it was enough to make heat start to pool between your legs.

Minho pulled away to take a breath, and you were glad he did since you needed to breathe as well. But Minho seemed to catch his breath more quickly than you, turning his attention to your neck.

He left a trail of sloppy kisses down from your chin to your shoulder, and you gladly tilted your head back to give him more access. You felt almost drunk again, but this time you weren't drunk on alcohol.

Minho was the first to speak.

"(Y/N)," he sighed, nipping at the soft skin of your collarbone. "Tell me to stop and I will."

You laughed breathlessly.

"You are a gentleman after all, right?"

Minho smiled, his mouth an inch away from your skin.

"I can be. But I'm sure you've noticed that I can be...something else." He pulled away from your neck and looked you in the eye, placing a hand against your cheek. "Am I still what you want?"

"Yes," you breathed out, the certainty obvious in your voice. "I've been in love with you too, Minho. I just didn't know how to say it. I love all of you, and I want all of you."

He groaned, sounding like he was almost in pain. But then his grip on your cheek tightened slightly and he leaned in even more, impossibly close.

"Then show me."

The sensation between your legs was undeniable by this point. Minho, being his usual observant self, immediately noticed that you were rubbing your thighs together, trying to generate even the smallest bit of friction to relieve the feeling.

He scoffed, but there was a familiar, gentle shimmer in his eye.

"Or how about I take care of you a different way?"

All you could do was bite your lip and nod. Of course he had noticed. But you were so, so glad he did.

"Put your arms around my neck and jump," Minho commanded softly.

You immediately obliged, and his hands fell to your ass, which he used to hold onto you as you jumped. He supported your weight with ease, and you nearly started drooling at the way his muscles were now completely flexed.

Minho then carried you back to the couch, where he laid you down on your back. Carefully, so as not to crush you underneath him, he propped himself up on the arm of the couch with his left hand behind you. He settled himself on top of you, but not touching you, with either leg on the sides of your hips.

His right hand traced a line down from your cheek, to in between your breasts, all the way down to the top of your skirt, where it finally came to a halt.

You practically went cross-eyed watching his silver necklace dangle in front of you. But the feeling of Minho hooking his index finger underneath the top of your skirt snapped you out of it.

"Tell me," he said quietly, "Did you wear this for me?"

In the span of a few seconds, you had a heated internal battle over whether to tell him the truth or not. Ultimately, you decided he already knew and he just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yes...I did."

The corner of his mouth curled upwards as he looked down at where his finger sat, pulling against the thin fabric of the skirt.

"Silly girl. You don't have to get drunk and dress like a slut just to get my attention."

You held your breath as he slowly slipped the rest of his hand under the fabric.

"I have dreamed of doing this with you...just the way you normally are," Minho continued.

As he spoke, Minho's fingers dipped lower and lower, until the tip of his pointer finger came in contact with the next to nothing panties covering your sopping core. You immediately drew in a breath, so hard you thought you were going to choke on the air.

Minho chuckled, circling over your clit lazily through your panties.

"Is this where you want me?"

Overcome with the heat and desire filling your every limb, you nodded vigorously, reaching one hand behind Minho's neck to hold onto him softly.

"Okay," he whispered, barely audible. "But try to be quiet, hmm?"

Before you could argue, Minho slid his pointer finger under the edge of your panties, instantly parting your lips and making contact with your bare clit.

This light touch alone was enough to send a jolt through you, and Minho couldn't help but laugh slightly at your obvious pleasure.

He then tentatively pushed his pointer finger inside of you, waiting to see how you would react.

You were so wet, it slid in with ease. You shivered at the sensation, and dug your nails into the back of Minho's neck. He hissed at the sensual pain, beginning to move his finger inside of you slowly.

"Mmmm," you whined, bucking your hips up to try and push his finger further inside. "I need more, Minho. Please."

He swiftly leaned down and hushed you with a chaste kiss.

"This needy for me already? How about this, is this enough?"

Minho shoved his middle finger inside of you as well, more forcefully this time, and immediately scissored you open with an ever-increasing speed.

"Yes! Please, don't stop."

If it weren't for how good you felt right now, you would be embarrassed at the way you were speaking. But he was unraveling you by the second, the two fingers inside of you pulling the strings holding you together.

The sounds of your wetness nearly echoed throughout your small living room. You knew you were humiliatingly close to your release, and Minho picked up on that as well.

Without saying anything else, he curled both fingers inside sharply, almost instantaneously finding the spot you needed him most. Stars swirled around in your vision, the feeling of his fingers and the cold metal of his necklace against your sizzling skin the only things keeping you grounded.

Then everything came crashing down in a searing, slick mess.

You threw your other arm around him as you clenched so hard on his fingers, you were worried you'd cut off his circulation. Your arousal dripped down the back of your ass, soaking your panties and Minho's wrist. Both of your thighs were locked up and quivering against Minho's forearm, essentially keeping him trapped there.

But eventually, the stars faded and you could see and feel properly again.

With a smirk, Minho pulled his hand away and wiped it on the back of his pants. As you watched him do so, you happened to notice just how badly he needed you, too. His arousal was painfully apparent through the tight pants he was wearing, and it made you swoon all over again.

"Let's go somewhere we have a little more room, shall we? And I'll take those ruined clothes off of you."

You weakly agreed, your throbbing sex already becoming hot again.

For the third time tonight, Minho leaned over to pick you up. This time though, he simply draped you over his shoulder, knowing that you wouldn't need to be carried for long.

He made his way into your bedroom, lightly pushing the door open with his foot. He then laid you on your bed and looked down at your beautifully disheveled state from where he was standing by your legs.

"So pretty like this," Minho whispered, bending down and kissing your forehead. "But then again, you're always pretty."

Even in your blissful condition, you couldn't help but blush at his words.

"But before we do this...I need you to tell me something. And be honest," Minho began, the atmosphere now turning more serious than playful. "Will you really be mine, (Y/N)? Mine only? Because once I have had you in this way, I won't want to share."

You watched him attentively. His eyebrows were knitted together in genuine concern, and his eyes searched your face for any hint of an answer you might give him. This was where you saw the shy side of him that you initially fell in love with, and you knew that despite how he may show another side of him with you intimately, that he was always being his true self, no matter what. That part of him that craved your validation and your love was what truly guided his actions.

"If this is your way of officially asking me out, Minho, then I accept." You giggled and reached for one of his hands. "I don't want anyone else. I just want you by my side, always, okay?"

Minho shyly giggled in return, squeezing your fingers slightly before letting them go.

"Okay. Then let's get these off you."

He gripped the edge of your skirt and pulled it down, the cool air hitting the dampness of your panties and making you cringe. That didn't last long, however, because Minho then did the same to your panties, practically peeling them off you due to how sticky they were.

You tried not to shy away from his gaze as he placed his hands on your knees and spread you apart to finally look at you fully.

His nostrils flared and his eyes fluttered shut at the perfectly overwhelming sight of you. He chanted a broken mantra in his mind to keep from diving into you right then and there. God, did he want to taste you. But that was for another time. His painful erection needed to be taken care of soon, and he wanted to be inside of you more than anything else right now.

"Is something wrong?" you asked quietly.

Minho snapped out of his thoughts and his hand instantly found yours again.

"No, no. Everything is perfect, you're perfect. I just... needed to compose myself," he said, his eyes darkening in the dim light of your bedroom.

"Oh," you giggled nervously.

Your anticipation only grew when he stepped away from you and yanked his pants and boxers down in one go, erection springing free and pulsing in the cool air.

"Oh," you repeated, this time more nervous than before.

Even from where you were laying on the bed, you could see how angry and red his tip was, a pearlescent bead of precum threatening to drip onto the floor. Minho gripped himself with one hand, pumping slowly to relieve some of the pent up tension he was holding onto.

"Change your mind?"

You shook your head, your "no" clear as day.

"Good. But tell me if you do. Can you lay like you normally would against your pillows?"

You followed his instructions, bringing the rest of your body onto the bed and laying your head against your pillows. Minho followed, crawling over top of you once more, and kneeling between your legs. You wrapped your legs around his hips to provide him better access, and he quickly positioned himself with one hand at his base and the other gripping the headboard of your bed.

"I'm not going to last long," he grunted. "But I need to feel you now."

"It's okay, Minho. I need you, too."

Without another word, Minho brought his tip to rest against your entrance. He tapped it lightly a few times, before sliding between your folds to spread your increasing wetness.

"Oh, fuck, (Y/N). I could lose it right now," he moaned, his head falling backwards.

He was absolutely beautiful. His thighs that you had been so fixated on earlier were now on full display, muscles taught underneath his perfect tan skin. His white tank top now clung to his chest even more thanks to the layer of sweat that sat against it. And God, the way his hair was sticking to his forehead...the way his mouth fell open slightly in a silent moan...his eyes screwed shut in concentration...it was all too much. You needed him just as badly.

With no further hesitation, he pushed into you, bottoming out instantly. His forehead came to rest against yours and you couldn't help but squeal at the immediate pleasure.

"Mmm, that's right," Minho sighed, regaining control of his hips. "I could listen to that sweet sound forever."

He dragged himself out of you slowly, before crashing back into you, his balls slapping distinctly against your ass. Over and over he want, the sounds of his slick skin against yours ricocheting off your bedroom walls. The only thing louder was the lewd series of sounds coming out of your mouth as your pussy clenched around him in a vice grip.

"Ahh," he moaned loudly, hips stuttering slightly. "Careful, pretty girl. If you keep doing that, I might accidentally make you a college drop out."

Your cheeks flushed as he started pounding into you again. He was obviously getting close to his release already and you were getting close to your second one of the night.

"Look at me," Minho said in a low voice. But he didn't give you a chance and instead gripped your chin roughly with one hand. "Come for me again, I won't last much longer."

His words, coupled with his gaze and his rough hand against you were enough to send you into orbit again. The second your walls squeezed around him, Minho withdrew with a curse under his breath. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as you throbbed around the sudden emptiness inside of you. But you were quickly brought back to reality as ropes of Minho's release landed against the inside of your thighs and on top of your pelvis.

Now the only thing you could hear was your heartbeat and your breaths mixed with Minho's. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, and it remained unbroken as Minho gently slid out of you and pulled his boxers and pants on. He walked over to your nightstand and grabbed some of the tissues you kept there. He then came back around to you and wiped you off as best as he could, which earned him a sincere smile from you.

"Thank you, Minho."

"Hmm, for what? I've done so many things tonight."

You punched him weakly as he sat down beside you, and he chuckled.

"Well, I did the best I could. But I think a bath is in order. And also probably new sheets. Aaaand panties, for that matter."

"You're not wrong about the bath, that sounds nice. Run one for me?"

Minho stood up excitedly, happy that he could help you feel good in so many ways tonight.

"Of course. Then, let's get some sleep."

You agreed, fighting a yawn as he walked into the bathroom.

Against your better judgement, you reached into the pocket of your skirt and pulled out your phone. Despite it being the middle of the night, there were numerous unopened messages from your friends.

Based on what you read with a quick glance, several of them were making bets on where Minho was right now. A few of them were concerned though, since they hadn't heard from him or you since the party.

You decided to cheekily help them out.

You took a quick selfie, making sure to accentuate how messy your hair was and how pink your cheeks were. Then you sent it to the group chat with the caption: "Turns out Minho liked my blush a little too much, guys. Don't wait up xoxo."

Your message was instantly read by the whole group, and replies started flooding in faster than you could read them.

"Thank God you guys didn't do that here, smh."

"I guess you guys are a thing now?"

"Jeongin, you owe me $5!!!"

You could hear Minho chuckle from the bathroom as he shut the water off. He then sent a short message of his own, but tagged Felix in it directly.

"You'll still need new clothes, Felix. I hold grudges."

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rottedraptor · 1 day ago

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yappertron coming through.

okay, so, as much as I’m genuinely so excited for this arc and how it’ll play out, the way they’re handling Puzzles and WPNZ’s characters both intrigue me and confuse me. Let’s start with Puzzles.

Up until now, Puzzles is known for being a manipulative and self absorbed guy who doesn’t exactly care about others. The ending of the newest episode ‘A VERY unlikely friendship.’ though adds something new onto his character.

He looks almost sad, like he’s having a second thought on something. It almost feels like Puzzles is having doubts on this entire plan and might be wanting to call it quits. Meggy mentions in the phone call that she’s only helping him out because Leggy still believes in him, this clearly gets to Puzzles as he looks at his makeshift Leggy plush with a sad look.

I feel like now being aware that there’s someone who believes he can be better, someone who wants him to be better and is willing to help him, it’s making him have his doubts about going through with his plan. If he’s actually thinking about stopping this whole thing, I wonder how it’ll play out with Toomp and WPNZ.

Now, let’s move onto WPNZ.

In this same exact video, WPNZ has this small moment where he admits he’s genuinely proud of all his kids, seemingly a bit saddened about the fall out with his family from SOTC.

I find this scene incredibly interesting because this implies that WPNZ has some sort of care about those kids, but he just cannot understand how be an actual parent and understand that he went too hard on them. There’s also that moment in the last episode ‘PrisonVision’ where he looks to be hesitant on erasing his memories of his family when Puzzles offers that.

Now, does he really regret all his actions? We’ll have to figure that out with later videos depending on what they’ll do, but i feel like they’re hinting at WPNZ having certain regrets about what happened in SOTC. with these little emotional moments.

I honestly feel like WPNZ does care about them a little bit, but he has no idea how to be a proper parent to them, he doesn’t know what a father should do. His idea of parenting was most likely teaching them to be like him, deadly assassins. He just can’t get it through his head that you aren’t supposed to teach children that, especially pushing them into a dangerous mission they clearly aren’t ready for.

Being clear here that I DO NOT think these two need a speedy redemption at all. Do I think redemption is possible? Yes, I do think that there’s a very slim chance that they could change, especially with these small implications they’ve been putting in recent videos.

I just would prefer it if they did it slowly, showing these characters improve over time and not immediately fix them. Puzzles and WPNZ are both flawed characters, and I mean EXTREMELY FLAWED, so if they do make the decision to reform these characters, they cannot rush that.

Honestly? I think Toomp is the big bad of this arc here. Puzzles and WPNZ are good threats, sure, but I’m getting the feeling that Toomp is a lot more of a bigger problem than he’s letting on. Think about it.

He’s JUST gotten introduced last video and we know that he’s extremely dangerous to the point where they had to create a NEW NUMBER for all the crimes he’s committed, and he’s also described as a walking weapon, similar to WPNZ. In the most recent episode we see more of Toomp.

He has a specific interest in WPNZ (he doesn’t have a good relationship with Puzzles at all.) as he stares at him, tries to sneak up on him twice, and eventually drags him off into a building, at night, in the junkyard and fixes him. But what weirded me out is that Toomp used a gear made from his own body and infused it into WPNZ. Im getting the feeling that it’ll affect WPNZ in some way, like what if Toomp can control him through that? What if he makes him more powerful / unstable than he already is? Theres a bunch of possibilities and none of them seem like really good outcomes. I think Toomp has his own agenda, it’s just a matter of when he is going to start it.

If you’ve made it here, thanks for reading my little post! This is all just speculation so I could very well be proven wrong with later videos. ^_^

#smg4 #mr wpnz #mr puzzles #smg4 thoughts #smg4 theory #kind of #I hope this makes sense I suck at writing

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sanderssidesthehouse · 1 day ago

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I've linked a bunch of my previous posts and quoted relevant sections below the cut, it just got really long and would be nightmare for people to scroll past lol. I love to talk about them so if you have questions/comments/extrapolations/mildly related tangents lmk I am unwell and will talk myself in circles if not given a clear direction lol

Janus Character Bingo

My favorite thing about Janus is that he's a liar about being a liar. Not that he doesn't lie, but calling him 'Deceit' is a lie. Sure, he manages that function, but it doesn't have to be his position, if that makes sense. There are several other things he could be called, most of which don't have a negative connotation. I'm not positive his job is necessarily something else, like how Roman is also passion and the ego, but he's called Creativity, so Janus's main gig could very well be lying, but he could be called something else that denotes the purpose of lying, and considering the other things he's shown to manage, such as trying to get the others to STOP lying (looking mostly at you, Patton), lies don't always serve him and his purpose. Are we picking up what I'm putting down? I'm tired and this paragraph is long.

Do you ever think about...

Do you ever think about how Janus is only ever whatever he's expected to be? How he always has to put on a front whenever we're looking at him? And how when the only thing you are is what someone else needs you to be you're never really you and you stop being able to recognize who that is? He only ever gets to be what's necessary which means he can't even form meaningful friendships with the other sides. He is by necessity a care taker but who takes care of him? He's focused on making sure the needs of c!Thomas are met and subsequently the other sides and yet his needs (i.e. being able to freely perform his function and be heard) are routinely denied. Do you ever think of the long lasting effects of that? How kindness will seem suspicious and how he probably can't let his guard down or relax in front of anyone? Bc I think about it a lot.

Janus's Relationship with Lying

I think Janus's relationship with lying is probably really complicated. Like it's part of his job, for sure. And I think he probably resents that a little bc of the situation. But I also think he genuinely enjoys a bit of good natured lying, i.e. bits and such. Like I think he would really enjoy lying about harmless or objectively stuff, but I think his need for backwards talk and constantly being disbelieved must grate on him. He has a job to do and yet his job is prohibiting him from doing it. You know? Does that make sense? I'm tired. Like everyone else gets to have fun with their jobs. Even Virgil kind of enjoys giving Thomas anxiety from time to time and Logan gets to play very serious dress up. Bc of Janus's job, he becomes known as Deceit which then makes him seem unreliable to Thomas and the other sides so they don't listen to him and he can't do his job. But also you've seen him. He has so much fun lying about silly things! I just want to give hin a hug.

Unreliable Narrator Post

So most notably as mentioned is Janus who is introduced to us as Deceit. We get "Warning: Liar" written straight on the package. Not everything he says is a lie or obfuscation so it's really fun to decipher what he's saying and his motivations bc also written on the package is his prime directive: "Sides of Thomas will always seek to perform their duties to help Thomas." The way they all go about it is different and sometimes does more harm than good, but that is still their intrinsic goal. The original post was mostly about people taking what he said in the tutorial at face value when you're talking to the professional mask maker.

Next we have another side who admits to being wrong a lot which is Virgil. He explicitly states this in SvS. He's not lying but that doesn't mean what he's saying is objectively the truth. This is pretty obvious before he says it bc of his role as Anxiety. Anyone who has anxiety knows it's usually wrong or exaggerating, even though what your anxiety makes you believe can feel so much like the truth. It's hard for him to be super reliable in relaying information bc he's scared and stressed about like 90% of things which warps his perception.

And last we have Remus. This guy. Beautiful boy. All about being brutally honest except he's just not lying. Except for when he is. I swear he just says stuff recreationally and like, me too, but at least I admit it. He's got that Brennan Lee Mulligan 'I will die on any hill' vibe methinks. The problem is that he says the actual profound truths in the same tone he does the shitposts so no one takes it seriously. And I swear to you this is on purpose, I can't prove it, but tell me honestly you don't think that's something he'd do. Rat bastard.

So what? They're all dirty filthy liars? Of course not. Sometimes they wholeheartedly believe what they're saying, sometimes they're doing their best in a situation that's difficult to navigate, sometimes the difference between the truth and the lie isn't actually all that important. Even the known liar is more than the lies he tells, and quite frankly it makes the truths he states all the more impactful. Everyone puts on a mask, a facade, the person they want everyone to see or the person they think everyone wants to see. The characters have become very complex over the course of the series which I think is really fun.

Janus and Sarcasm

So far we've had very few glances at his actual personality past his job, unlike the main four, so the only things we have to go off of are c!Thomas's whole personality and deciphering Janus's words through layers of sarcasm and lies. It's also made difficult bc none of the other sides seem to have a consistent handle on when Janus is telling the truth. They don't know him that well and/or are extremely biased in one direction or the other, so we don't even really get clues from their reactions either. Occasionally there's an exception when Logan is in the room (I think he was the one who tried pointing it out to Roman one time), but he still gets tripped up sometimes bc he takes things so literally. Janus's over the top sarcasm also makes it difficult to tell when he's obfuscating the truth in more subtle ways which I think is on purpose bc it makes him more effective at hiding things which is a big part of his gig.

Creativitwins Thoughts

I'm ougouguoughuog. About Remus rn. And about how he's so, so much like Roman. And about how they hate it probably as much as they could love it. The need for attention, the need for control, particularly of any narrative being told about them. If Remus is doing it on purpose the it doesn't hurt when they say he's disturbing. If he's trying to be hated then it doesn't matter when they do. If he puts aside politeness he can take any attention that he wants. If he's provocative, his ideas don't need to be thought put bc they'll just be ignored or violently rejected anyway. But they do get him attention. He is heard. He wouldn't be otherwise, and he knows it. Just another piece of lint swept under the rug, or a trinket hidden away in a box in the back of the closet. And Roman does everything asked of him to the best of his ability bc if he pleases everyone then everyone will like him. If he always does the right thing, they'll listen. When he does a good job, they'll give him praise. As long as he does everything that Remus doesn't, he gets to be in the forefront. He gets to be seen and acknowledged. Which means he has to go over every idea with a fine tooth comb to make sure there's nothing 'icky' in there, never exploring more than is allowed. And it's not good for either of them bc the sides have needs. Neither of them are free to explore their creativity, their main job. They're asked to perform it and at the same time, not allowed. They should be working together but are pushed apart. Neither of them are being genuine bc being genuine leaves you vulnerable. Not that they don't mean the things they say or that they don't support the ideals they claim, just that at all times a little piece of themselves is hidden away. And everytime they see each other they're looking in the mirror, but they can't call the other on it or risk losing their security. And even though they know the truth about each other, they still envy the superficial aspects of the cages the other has trapped themself in. Roman of Remus's ability to spout ideas as they come and explore whatever he wants, Remus of the attention Roman receives, particularly from Thomas. They think that maybe if they just had the other's problems that maybe they could make it work even though they know it's not true.

Remus Character Bingo

I think about Remus so frequently. My absolute favorite we've seen of him was WTIT. It definitely gave us more to work with, particularly with how much he hates being ignored. Bc like, yeah he's a side and he needs to be able to do his function, but his function and subsequently himself have been repressed which has warped everything and tbh I'd act like that too.

Remus is literally an alarm. He shows up when things are bad... And makes them worse, but!!!!! He's a clue to get to the root problem. Also, as someone who suffers from disturbing and upsetting intrusive thoughts, I'd love to see dealing with Remus through creation, bc honestly him having a hold of Creativity is perfect. One way to get through intrusive thoughts is the mindful meditation technique, another is by ejecting them via art/writing. I think that would be fun. Some people think Remus is annoying. And? As is his right? No, but seriously, he's been neglected up until we see him appear, suppressed except for where his influence slips out, honestly, he could be MORE annoying if he wanted. Get their asses. One characterization I see people give him is that he doesn't care, but if nothing else, there is one thing he absolutely has to care about: c!Thomas. I mentioned this in my unreliable narrator post in relation to Janus, but it stands for all of them: “Sides of Thomas will always seek to perform their duties to help Thomas.” I don't believe the sides can purposely seek to hurt c!Thomas. They're not people, they're part of a person.

Remus is insecure

I view both of them as having the 'this is who they've decided I am so even though there's more than that I'm going to be this 110% so that if they're ever disappointed I can at least say "well what did you expect? you made me."' Like Remus is still Creativity, a darker creativity is just as capable of great work as a more sunshine and rainbows one. "What if this happened, wouldn't that be fucked up?" can be just as compelling as "What if this thing happened, would that be cool or what?" but Remus is expected to be everything that c!Thomas hates and he has to be extreme to get noticed so he's being who he's not in order to have a taste of what he wants, when in reality he wants his genuine self to be acknowledged and listened to but he doesn't think that's going to happen and I don't blame him. Roman also does a version of this where he just is whatever he thinks the others want him to be so he can maintain his seat at the table, probably driven on by the thought that if he strays, he's just as disposable as Remus, just as capable of being shunted aside and reduced into nothing of substance.

Virgil and Janus Relationship

I think Virgil would be a mom friend bc he learned about being friends with Janus and they're both mom friends who had a lesbian situationship and when they split it rocked everybody like a divorce and this is anxceit to me. Virgil learned how to read people from Janus and Janus learned how to consider emotions from Virgil and they can never unlearn these things just as anything else they learned from or about the other and they're intrinsically linked for the rest of time regardless of their standing and if they became close again it would never be like it was bc they had that trust and it was absolutely shattered but they yearn for that relationship as it was and as it can't be so they might try to imitate it and let it destroy them out of desperation or they might try to preserve it by never being close again or they might find a way to move forward and build new bridges rather than mending old ones and this is why I can't stop thinking about them. They can be toxic, they can be doomed, they can have hope, they can make all three true simultaneously, I am unwell about them. No matter what they do it will be beautiful, either beautifully tragic or beautifully warm. No one can comfort them like the other, no one knows them as well as the other, no one can hurt them like the other, no one knows less about who they've become in the others absence and yet no one could know more. They don't understand each other on the outside any more, but they can still predict their deepest depths.

Virgil Character Bingo

Funny thing is I think he's the most stable side at the current point in canon which is like... someone please help them. But I think it has somewhat to do with him being closest to having a complete arc (until new stuff is revealed perhaps). His current issues have been addressed for the most part, save his history with the 'dark' sides. He's also an easy comfort bc in my opinion he's the simplest of the sides (what you see is what you get), likely due to his hatred of lying. He's anxious, he's Anxiety, that's his thing. He's also Virgil and he's emo and I can vibe with that. Someone has to be stable (kind of) around here!

And it's so interesting to me how each of the 'dark' sides feels differently about being or playing a villain, with Virgil definitely disliking it the most as a concept but still having trouble leaving it completely behind.

And his friendship with Patton is so special to him, you can tell. Patton was the first person to want to include him, and with open arms, too! Patton treated him like he was someone easy to love, even if he went a bit overboard. But yeah him and Patton together accidentally caused a lot of harm and now Patton is cool with Janus and he's going to feel guilty and mad and sad and I feel bad bc it has to be a problem for it to get better. I want him to be able to play with his friends again. Someone give him a hug, he's had a rough few episodes.

Inside Jokes

Stuck in the Past

Sometimes I think about how the 'dark' sides are like, stuck in the past comparatively. And they can't move into the present until they're ALL acknowledged and accepted. Virgil has been in the light for a while now but he's still stuck. And it's all bc there was a division in the first place. How can you move on from being shunted to the side and detested for something that wasn't your fault and then forced to do the thing that makes people hate you bc your persistence is outside of your control? They've all got villain vibes for a reason. Honestly I think Janus is closest to being able to move forward. Virgil can't as long as his thing with them goes unaddressed and Remus hasn't been completely accepted yet, they're still trying to mitigate his existence.

Laughing at Janus's Misfortune

I think it's really funny that the schemer of the group ended up with the feral cat behaving sides to work with bc like no wonder his plans didn't work out before. Like Virgil is anxious and Remus does whatever he wants which is likely biting. Doesn't seem like a recipe for success.

Anxceit Ship Bingo

I think it would be amazingly angsty if after all this time they still knew each other best. Like maybe they don't know each others current favorite foods or movies, but they know each others deepest fears and how to calm each other down and what each others most formative moments were. I like the idea of them having deeply entrenched history.

Them both having protecting roles is very interesting and it would make so much sense if that's why they had a falling out in the first place. I explored one possibility of what that would look like in Why Do I, excerpt here: "The thing about Deceit- Janus- Self Preservation, whatever you wanted to call him, was that he had one singular agenda: Make sure Thomas gets what he needs and then what he wants, regardless of who he has to cut through to do it. And so, once upon a time, Virgil ended up with a knife in his back." A second excerpt: "And whenever something happening to Thomas would make Virgil freak out, Janus would have Thomas lie it away." I wrote while thinking about how lying can affect anxiety and Anxiety. When you lie, there's always the chance of getting caught, which can potentially be more stressful than the thing you lied about, and if you get caught too many times, it's the boy who cried wolf which would also be a very anxiety inducing situation bc what if you really need someone to believe you? There's also the fact that this would increase avoidant behavior. Janus CANNOT defer to Virgil if he wants to keep c!Thomas safe bc long term that would be disastrous to his health. Sometimes things that are good for you are scary. But this in particular is related mostly to their jobs so they shouldn't be taking it personally, especially since 'dark' sides know better than anyone that they can't help what their jobs are, they just have to do them.

And some fun headcanons

Remus Halloween Headcanon

I think every year Remus absolutely revels in Halloween bc spooky shit is right up his alley. It's the one time of year when the gruesome is normal and expected. Like Virgil has the emo Halloween aesthetic, but Remus is dressing up as a hyper realistic zombie maid and creating the most unsettling stories known to man bc he can and someone might actually listen bc it's Halloween.

Remus German Headcanon

My character/ship playlists

Hey, i don’t know if i was allow to do the @darksideweeks dukeceit prompts this early but I’ve had really bad art block and they helped me get out of it.

(Sorry if these pieces are kind of cringy)

Also if anyone has any ideas or art requests please let me know!

Explanation behind the piece below-

The prompt puppets kinda reminded me of them both.

Remus and Janus are both very different characters but they’re both tied to this idea of having to put on a villainous persona whether it’s to gain some semblance of control (and ironically enough it actually ends up giving them less) or it’s the role they were pretty much forced into because of Thomas’s religious guilt.

Or maybe it’s potentially both.

They do it to make it hurt less, gain the lack of control they never had in the first place.

That’s why I think puppets play do well into the both of them, because at this point that’s kinda what they are.

Luckily enough, Janus is breaking from those strings in SvS but Remus is still kinda in that same puppet state.

Which makes me wonder if his angst/arc will be similar to Virgil’s in the sense that Virgil can’t help his anxiety so he scares everyone for a sense of control.

When the others start to work with him he’s less threatening, happier and his guard is down.

What if his intrusive thoughts are constant or close to it?

If he purposely makes people think he’s a psychopath then it doesn’t hurt as much.

He’s made them think that and every other negative thing on purpose.

If negative attention is all the attention he’ll ever get so why not lean into it?

#siding post #sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders

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leonidas1754 · 1 day ago

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What's been driving me absolutely bonkers lately is that it's so fucking clear that both Eito and Takumi independently have some massive issues that need genuine help (though Eito's are directly touched upon in the game while Takumi's aren't as much), and they could help each other... If they hadn't been put in a situation where doing so is borderline impossible.

Spoilers, you know the drill, mainly Route 0, 2nd Scenario, SF, Coming of Age.

Look, just. Outright, plainly, Takumi has depression. It's not even subtle and it's been driving me absolutely nuts because I haven't seen anyone else talk about it yet (though tbf I haven't gone looking too hard since I haven't played all the routes).

He has no hobbies. His main interest is sleeping. He has no friends aside from the single one, and it's unclear whether he even cares about his family all that much, as far as I can remember any worry about them barely if ever comes up, it's always Karua. The literal FIRST THING WE SEE ABOUT HIM is that he sleeps in the same clothes he wears daily. He's self-sacrificing and he has absolutely zero confidence in himself or his decisions. He has absolutely nothing but his care for his friends and allies, and for the most part, he's not allowed to have anything more than that. He's so focused on others to the point of it being selfish in its own way, and he can and will destroy himself over and over again if he believes it's needed to help those he cares about.

We see him lean on Eito in Route 0, but honestly, I don't believe it's to the degree everyone else seems to think. To me, it always felt like Takumi and Eito were propping each other up, doing the best they could in the insane and terrible situation they were thrown into. It was a little more give on Eito's side and a little more take on Takumi's, but sometimes relationships are like that, some people have more/bigger needs than others, and that doesn't mean the relationship is inherently bad or unhealthy. It's only amplified as the others start to look to Takumi more and more as a leader figure.

Obviously, it's clear in hindsight that Eito was manipulating Takumi to a degree, but much of Eito's actions are done basically entirely on his own, without manipulating Takumi other than in the sense of having his trust. Destroying Sirei, killing Hiruko, letting Eva escape then killing her, destroying their food supply, even convincing everyone but Takumi (and Nozomi) to give in to V'exhness' false surrender offer (that he wasn't aware was a farce), they were all done by Eito alone.

I think part of the reason people interpret it that way is because of what happens AFTER Route 0. Because the problem ultimately is that Takumi still highly values Eito's friendship, he hasn't magically processed that betrayal in the 5 days between when it happens and when he turns back time, in no small part because he has a lot of other shit to work through as well. And once he turns back time, he gets basically no opportunity to do so. He's immediately forced to choose to either kill or spare Eito, and then Sirei names him leader of the SDU. Takumi's entire focus is on keeping everyone alive. Both the time travel and Sirei effectively isolate him. Of course Eito is still on his mind a lot, of course he mentally references what he thinks Eito would say or do, and of course he misses that friend he'd counted on throughout such a stressful and confusing situation.

Something that also drives me crazy is the way the subject of Eito wanting a cure comes up in the SF route. It just really comes out of almost nowhere, with another timeline's Eito admitting to it because ???????? genuinely why? It would have been incredible to have a route that focused on Takumi doing his best to get close to Eito and truly understand him, gaining his trust and having Eito eventually admit that way that his cognitive distortion has caused him a lot of isolation and pain, and that he wants that human connection more than anything.

Because that's the biggest issue, really, on both sides of it; neither truly get the opportunity to try and understand one another. Takumi doesn't get a chance to process that betrayal and grief, to actually be able to approach Eito with a clearer picture.

To Takumi, everything he knew about Eito was false, and Eito is purely a man of spite and malice due to his cognitive distortion.

He doesn't get the chance to wonder if maybe, just maybe, not all of it was a lie, and that Eito is ultimately just another person with wants and needs and pain, someone who doesn't need to be saved, but to be helped.

And Eito, god, it's more obvious, but I really wanna touch on the fact that despite what he says on day 95, it's pretty clear that he was at least somewhat genuine in Route 0. Yes, he hid his disgust and hatred of humanity, but that doesn't mean he didn't form some level of actual connection with the others, especially Takumi. He just can't admit it because it's dissonant with everything he believes he wants, along with his cognitive distortion making it impossible for him to truly connect in the ways he might want to and the ways he knows would be wanted from him, all tied up with a nice bow of fear of how Takumi might react to learning about said cognitive distortion.

Eito's behavior in the Defense Room on Day 95 reeks of someone putting on an act to convince both themselves and others of something. In Eito's case, if Takumi completely hates him and believes Eito truly never felt any friendship or positive things for Takumi or anyone else, then Eito can shove out any and all doubts from his own mind, all the reasons he might cave to a Takumi that instead tries to plead with him and insist that Eito isn't alone.

Of course, after Route 0, Eito doesn't have that connection with Takumi, there's nothing to pretend isn't there because for him, it's not. His fascination with Takumi is born from Takumi's time travel and that he stopped Eito from destroying Sirei, and likely also how Takumi acts towards him, clearly still feeling the pain of that betrayal.

[[ To preface this next bit, I feel the need to be clear that I think the SF Route sucks as a 'true end', but that's an entire long post all on its own. That said, this next bit is going to be written with the approach of addressing the route as the story is rather than blowing Takumi's behavior off as the hasty and inconsistent writing it feels like ]]

Even in the Coming of Age and SF routes, Takumi isn't allowed to actually connect with Eito in any meaningful way.

In Coming of Age, he suggests the DCRT because he sees it as an opportunity to help Eito. There may be some delusion that he could have his false friend for real this time, but more than anything, it read to me as a genuine desire to rid Eito of the clear problem he has, being that his cognitive distortion prevents him from connecting with others and being happy.

Takumi has no context for how terrible the brainwashing machine is in this timeline, only getting the barest hint of it with Eva, so it never really read to me as "being willing to put Eito through something horrible to get route 0 Eito back" (though that's not something that's necessarily off the table for him, at least in some routes) and more as genuine intent, especially when Eito comes back "cured" and Takumi is clearly weirded out, but accepts it. This Eito isn't the one he had back in Route 0, but it's an Eito who seems to truly be happier, even if he's kind of weird about it.

And in SF, we don't even get that much. They find a potential cure again, but Takumi literally doesn't even get the opportunity to try and get to know Eito as he is because Hiruko uses the brainwashing machine on him. And yes, again, Takumi doesn't really have context for how terrible the machine is, not to mention he's hyper-focused on the lead they have for breaking out of the time loop, so he's willing to simply accept it at face value again.

What both of them need, more than anything, is a genuine, mutually supportive connection. And I truly believe it's something they could find in one another, if circumstances allowed for it.

Takumi needs someone who will help him, yes, but also someone who can get him to push back as well, someone who won't put up with him destroying himself for their sake. Because Takumi will, we see him do it several times over in various routes, and it's in no small part because he is being placed in that position of responsibility without proper support, along with that lack of any motivation outside the lives of his friends and the absence of self-worth.

Eito could support him quite well, if given the room to breathe, if he can let go of the idea of using Takumi as a tool to further his own goals. But he's trapped in a cage, given no compassion by Sirei, and no opportunity to pull himself out of the mental trap he's in: viewing his distorted sight as a gift as the only coping mechanism he has for the isolation it caused and continues to cause him.

Eito needs someone who truly wants to help him, but not diminish him as he so often was in his false childhood memories. Someone who wants to cure his condition because of how it affects him rather than it (mainly) being about them, though it's impossible for there to be no self-interest in such a thing, let alone have Eito believe there isn't.

Takumi may have difficulties dealing with the other members of the SDU at times, but he accepts them as they are, and there's no reason to think he couldn't do the same with Eito given the time to actually process his grief over Eito's betrayal, to find that balance between wanting to help others and respecting both himself and others' strengths and struggles.

They just don't have the opportunity, or rather, Takumi doesn't have the opportunity. They're both open wounds; Takumi is reopened over and over and over again, given no time to heal, while Eito is left to fester without care.

God I just want them to get the help they fucking need.

#The Hundred Line #The Hundred Line Spoilers #Eito Aotsuki #Takumi Sumino #Hi yes I feel extremely strongly about undiagnosed and untreated mental illnesses could you tell

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 13 hours ago

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i am in love with this fic <3 🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

Thank you!!

60 for 🪷:

---

She’s terrified.

Bobby

The drive to the airport is quiet. Which is probably for the best, because Bobby is nearly shaking he’s so nervous.

He’s not actually sure if the nerves are fear or anticipation. Perhaps both? It doesn’t even feel like it’s been too long since he’s seen Athena, despite the very real decade between them. He feels like he saw her just yesterday, and he’s desperate as though it’s been twice the time it has in reality.

“Thank you,” Bobby says to Harry, as they’re approaching short-term parking. “For everything today.”

Harry gives him a kind smile.

“Hey, of course,” he says. “Anything you need, seriously.”

It’s strange for Bobby to think that Harry is so sincere in that. He was his stepfather for less than a third of Harry’s life, really. For a good chunk of that, Harry was living in Florida. Yet still, there’s that loyalty.

“I’m grateful,” Bobby says. “For all of you, of course. But especially, uh, you’re looking out for me back at the house and getting everything sorted.”

Harry looks a little flustered with the recognition. “Yeah, I know sometimes when shit happens, everyone fussing over you can be a lot.”

Bobby nods in agreement. He thinks of Harry as a kid, after everything happened with Jeffrey Hudson.

“Has something else happened?” Bobby asks. “Beyond…”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. He obviously knows what Bobby is thinking. “Yeah, I got hurt pretty bad on the job in my… My second or third year, I think? Took a piece of shrapnel from a car exploding to my abdomen.”

Bobby winces. “Damn.”

Harry nods. “Obviously, I’m good. But, like, Mom and May lost their minds. Chimney lost his mind. Everyone lost their minds. It was a lot to try to recover from almost dying, while they were all freaking out about me almost dying.”

“I think Buck went through a bit of that after he was struck by lightning,” Bobby recalls.

“Yeah, he was a lot of help,” Harry says. “Sorry he didn’t have that presence of mind today.”

“It’s a more surprising situation than an on-the-job injury,” Bobby concedes.

“No kidding,” Harry says. “But, yeah… I figured you’d get overwhelmed.”

And Bobby is very overwhelmed. Still.

“I was,” he admits. “I appreciate the quiet, but I also…”

He trails off, unsure how to phrase this thought.

“I know we don’t know how long any of this will last,” he says. “I don’t want to waste the time I have with anyone.”

Harry looks thoughtful.

“Yeah, that’s tricky,” he says. “So many people have missed you.”

Bobby’s throat feels thick at that. There was a time where he could have died and no one was left alive to truly mourn him.

#daisies and briars writes #resurrection fic

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linxnnalyn · 2 days ago

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hey !!

may i rq akito/reader childhood friends to lovers?? preferably fluff of how their relation slowly grew at different ages

-🥞

Childhood friends to lovers with tfem! Akito

࣪𖤐.ᐟ note -> I'm normal Akitos biggest hater /jk but for fem! Akito? Down bad.

࣪𖤐.ᐟ warnings -> none.

࣪𖤐.ᐟ content includes -> fluff, transfem! Akito, childhood friends, reader deals with akitos bullshit, coming out, jealousy, oblivious! reader, confessing.

۫ ꣑ৎ Akito and you have been best friends since you could remember. The two of you were always practically inseparable, always seen playing together. Akito saw himself as your protector and has always been tougher between the two of you so whenever someone was picking on you he would protect you.

۫ ꣑ৎ The two of you would often play at the nearby park or simply just hang out there. You and Akito were so close that you would often have dinner with his family. Akito's mother adores you and Ena likes having you around, someone else that has to deal with Akito's bullshit is great in her books.

۫ ꣑ৎ Akito and you would often get into trouble together, but neither of you minded because you always had a lot of fun. The two of you became so inseparable that it became a shock whenever you two weren’t seen together. You also somehow happened to share a lot of interest and even got into street music together.

۫ ꣑ৎ The two of you would often be stuck in his room, playing games or just talking. His parents always insisted that you two keep the door open, though over time they became less strict about it, and Ena always teased you two about getting together and making stupid kissy faces at you two, which always annoyed Akito.

۫ ꣑ৎ You are the person Akito trusts the most in the world.. And you were the first person Akito told that he—or rather she—is trans and knows that she is a girl. You obviously accepted her and even helped her tell her family, which Akito greatly appreciates. And for some reason she started to feel...weird, around you.

۫ ꣑ৎ As the two of you grew, so did her feelings for you. Akito started to get a lot more jealous whenever someone took up too much of your time or even when someone had an obvious crush on you. She didn’t want to admit it at first, but she was in love with you. Akito didn’t say anything though, not wanting to ruin your friendship.

۫ ꣑ৎ It was becoming increasingly obvious that Akito has a crush on you, and everyone knew except you. Ena and Akito's friends would often tease her about having a crush on you. Ena would be lying if she said that she didn’t expect for one of you to fall in love with the other. Somehow, Ena was able to convince Akito to confess to you, because no one else would be able to put up with her like you do.

۫ ꣑ৎ You were completely oblivious to Akito’s feelings, not because you didn’t care, but because you never even imagined that someone like her could feel that way about you, the same way you felt about her. You always thought that if Akito liked someone, she would just say it. The thought of her liking you like that didn’t even cross your mind until it hit you all at once.

۫ ꣑ৎ When she finally confessed, it was awkward and messy. Akito didn’t even plan to do it—she blurted it out during an argument about something completely unrelated. You were so stunned you didn’t say anything at first, and she just stood there. But when you finally kissed her, all that noise in her head disappeared. Akito hadn’t even realized how badly she needed you to feel the same.

۫ ꣑ৎ Being in a relationship with Akito wasn’t that different from being best friends with her—except now she got to hold your hand, steal your hoodies, and fall asleep with her head in your lap without hiding the way her heart fluttered when you ran your fingers through her hair. Akito’s learning how to be loved as herself, and she’s never felt safer doing it than when she’s with you.

#akito #akito x reader #akito shinonome #akito shinonome x reader #pjsk #pjsk x reader #project sekai x reader #project sekai colorful stage #project sekai #hatsune miku colorful stage #colorful stage #wlw #sapphic

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blackcatxmagic · 13 hours ago

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Now that it seemed like Koda was interested in this, Davis didn't try to hold back his enthusiasm anymore, smiling brightly. "Paladin would be fun, and you can also take a lot of damage and heal your team in a pinch. The magic classes are fun, and I've played them before, but they're pretty unpredictable, and they can't take as much damage. I'm actually usually a monk. I like the idea of fighting with a staff or with my fists. Once I went as my character for Halloween a few years back, and...well, it was a cool costume, I made it myself, but it was pretty cold." Davis laughed at the memory before realizing Koda might not understand it. "Oh, monks don't wear a lot of armor," he explained, "which is why I was cold. I was covered, but the costume showed a lot of skin. A friend helped me make it, and she kept insisting I remove some of the components of the costume, covering less and less. She said it really emphasized how badass monks are even without armor. I'm not sure that's the real reason though. I think she just wanted me to be cold. It was still fun though." Davis was already thinking about his costume for next year, and he was deliberating between a few ideas. "I can help you make sense of it all," Davis promised Koda. "It can be overwhelming at first, but that's why there are books and stuff. Still, it's easier if you've got someone to help you get it all straight." At Koda's remark, Davis smiled a little sheepishly, admitting, "Yeah, I've got some ideas I've been kicking around. The problem is I almost have too many ideas, and they don't really work together. I've got to get them organized before I even think about starting my own campaign.

"I probably actually have a couple comics I don't want anymore, but I usually keep them," Davis told Koda. "I like to collect them, though I've got duplicate copies of some that I don't need, like gifts and such. My grandparents are always buying me comics, and it's nice of them, but sometimes I have them already." His grandparents bought him a lot actually; it was like they were trying to make up for the fact that Davis's parents had basically abandoned him. They had though, more or less - Davis hadn't seen them in over a year and hadn't spoken to them in nearly six months, and even then it had been literally a two minute phone call. "It used to be really nice," Davis said when talk turned to his hometown in Sri Lanka. "It's really resorting. That's actually where my parents met. My dad was...uh, 'finding himself' I guess, and my mom was a local. But then a huge storm came through about 13 years ago, and even though they rebuilt everything, it doesn't feel the same, not for me." There was no reason for Davis to ever return to Trincomalee as far as he was concerned; the only thing there for him were heartbreaking memories.

Davis noticed the way Koda kind of evaded the question, and he understood the desire to keep things to yourself; he was doing the same thing after all. "That was probably kind of cool but also kind of hard," he said, leaving the topic open for more discussion if Koda wanted to but not pushing. Not wanting Koda to feel awkward, Davis asked, "So do you want to do this now? Or we could do it later. We could meet back here, or you could come to my house if you want."

༝༝🔪 ༝༝

The way he talked was with an enthusiasm most people lacked. Koda would argue everyone but found a few of the hidden gems. She'd always wanted to be a hero, a real one, and maybe creating a character to make up for her lack thereof was the perfect solution. "That'd be rad, I have no idea what I'd be doing," the blonde confirmed with a laugh, bookending her words. "A monk is badass too, just not as much my style. You'll have to handle the serious magical shit for sure." Koda preferred to use her fists, and a sword would've been her weapon of choice if she were in medieval times. He had knowledge she craved and a creative outlet that in any other circumstance she might not have considered. Koda didn't know enough people to have a real group or have the know-how to create a campaign of any kind. It seemed obvious that Davis would, causing her jaw to unhinge slightly when hearing the opposite. "Me? A Dungeonmaster? Oh no way." Her head was shaking in disagreement before she'd even finished speaking. Koda didn't consider herself a creative person per se and thrived off the energy brought by others. That's what made her so excited to meet someone like Davis, who beamed when he spoke about what he cared about, unable to contain his shine. "I think you'd be good at it, though, don't know if I believe you saying you couldn't think of a sick campaign. You've got to have something you've wanted to try before."

Koda gave him a look of uncertainty at first, then nodded in agreement and brought the comic to her chest, where she held it tight. "Well, thanks, and if you ever want to get rid of any old ones, you know you can throw them my way." Handouts weren't something she accepted emotionally, pity was not a good look on her, but she took any item she could get her hands on. In her youth, Koda couldn't get attached to objects, not even being allowed to take her favorite stuffed rabbit with her on some trips. Now that her parents didn't have a say in her life, she clung to the things she loved most, and that included the disheveled toy that still sat on her bed. "Maybe I won't put it on my list then," she thought out loud. "Not a bad place to grow up. It's got that real small-town feel without feeling restricted by a lack of options." It hadn't been a bad place to settle down for the time being. Nothing good like this lasted forever, but she'd enjoy it while it did. "Ah, my parents moved around a lot for work. I've lived in a lot of places, but the States the longest," Koda explained without giving away enough details to get her in trouble. The last thing she wanted to talk about was herself, especially the parts of her world the blonde preferred to keep to herself.

#obviously this friend made the costume as revealing as possible because Davis looks the way he does #interaction*#interactions: davis #davis & koda #Q

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spotaus · 8 months ago

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New Age AU (Cross' Spy Adventures)

Hi guys! I'm back! This one has been eating at me so forgive me if it's a bit rougher than the others, but I hope you still enjoy! (And if plot details don't seem to line up? Remember Cross has no clue what's going on yet :] )

Context: Cross has been asked by Dream to do recover information on his brother's next plans of attack. He's not a very good spy.

(Hi to @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

Stars this place was big.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be on a castle grounds after so many years roughing it with Ink. Inns and taverns and tents. He wasn't sure how much he enjoyed being back in the throes of the rich and powerful's estates.

The cart-ride with the other new recruits had been pleasant enough, they were all decently friendly guys. A few were putting on that tough-guy facade, but none of them could've been older than 25. Fresh off the press, practically. Perfect soldiers to be brainwashed.

Cross had laughed and joked with them about what life in the castle might be like. How different it would be from the old daily grind. How maybe they'd pick up a hot partner in town on their patrols. How they hoped they'd eat like kings.

Though, Cross noticed that each of them got cagey when word of the King resurfaced. One birdish-monster mourned that she couldn't have served the last King, Nim, before she passed on to join the gods. Another spoke of the honor it would bring for him to serve the blood of Nim.

They seemed averse to even acknowledging King Nightmare's existence. Aside from his connection to Nim.

Now, the chatter was all silent, and Cross was among the many new soldiers who were ogling the castle as they passed around its outer wall and entered through a side gate.

It was, admittedly, impressive.

His own home kingdom had less of a castle, more of a monolith. It had been dense, and tall, and impossibly smooth. His father couldn't stand imperfection.

This castle was almost the exact opposite of what Cross had always known. The walls imperfect and overlapping, rather than brick it looked like it had burst straight up from the ground. Bumpy and imperfect and natural, and yet beautiful and structurally stable. He didn't linger on it, but he wanted to so badly.

Instead, he drew his attention ahead. To where a man stood, his armor decorated in the marks which indicated him as a reporting officer.

This man, a human with a crooked nose and a thick, black, beard held up a hand, and the driver of the cart tugged at his reigns, the horses pulling to a slow stop.

One by one, once given the signal, the soldiers filed out. Stating their rank, their camp of origin, and their name.

Cross was middle of the pack, and saluted the human as Dream had taught him and as everyone had done before him.

"1st Year Guard, Pierson Camp, Z." He reported.

He was not proud of his code-name. It physically hurt to say it with a straight face, but when he'd been talking about needing a new code name, Ink had excitedly suggested it.

Z, he'd said, Like 'X' but not! And Cross hadn't been able to shut the idea down when Dream had giggled and tapped his cheekbone, the spot just under his eyelight that held is scar.

Dream had called it fitting, and it'd been settled in a heartbeat.

Cross managed to say it aloud without any hint of suspicion and was waved off to join his fellow recruits.

They lined up haphazardly, but didn't dare to do more than grin and snicker between eachother at. Well. Anything, it seemed. They were taking this very casually compared to what Cross had been expecting.

Though, the moment the captain was done looking to the cart for any stragglers, he turned. The soldiers all went still and aligned themselves.

Cross wondered how they survived training if they goofed off like that so readily.

He watched as the cart which had brought them circled away, and he listened carefully as the man introduced himself.

"I am Captain Rogers. Your platoon will report to me for any and all management. I control your training schedules, your mealtimes, and your work hours." He called out to them, right there on the lawn "you are here today to serve the blood of the gods, and by Nim's watch you will not slack on your oath. No matter how much you loathe it here. Understood?"

Such a bold declaration of... unrest.

The soldiers, one by one, gave affirmative nods and salutes, Cross making sure he wasn't the first. He didn't want to seem too eager.

The captain led them about.

He asked for them to stay in formation, and Cross ended up towards the middle of the pack yet again, just close enough to hear the explanations of their duties, places on the grounds they were allowed to go, and what their daily routine was meant to be like.

Near the stables, they paused briefly, and the Captain was taking an extra long time explaining that the horses in the stables were not to be ridden without explicate orders from him or another commanding officer.

Cross couldn't help but notice the guys ahead of him whispering about something, and Cross followed their miniscule gestures off to the left.

A black cat, wirey and short-hair. It was standing in the shadow of a fence, and he didn't think he would've spotted it if it weren't for its big, green eyes. They were like little saucers in its head.

It was staring straight at him. Tail flicking. One ear twitched.

Cross tried to ignore it, but when he'd glance back, it was still there.

Until, suddenly, it wasn't.

By the time they moved on, it was nowhere in sight.

His old home hadn't had many animals, especially not roaming cats. He wondered if it was a 'barn cat'. Blue had explained the concept to him once.

Regardless, that thing was freaky.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, the Captain announced that their last stop of the night would be to their quarters.

He could practically feel the relief rolling off of the guys next to him, and it took am effort to let his shoulders sag even an inch in imitation. The guy next to him looked like he might fall over, and Cross shared none of that exhaustion.

They would start their assignments bright and early in the morning, each of them would have a more experienced guard join them as a guiding measure before they were left to the duties themselves.

A much kinder grace period than Cross had been expecting, honestly.

The Captain escorted them down the halls, long and twisting. Each one held soldiers out of uniform, turning in for the night, going through their routines. As well as some moving out for the night shift. They ignored the rookies as they kept to their own business.

The Captain swung a door open, only to immediately block the soldiers in front from entering the space of relaxation beyond.

"Ah, Ccino, I was worried we'd missed you." The Captain spoke up.

"Soldiers, back up. Stand at attention." Came an order next.

Cross was faster than the others in recognizing the order, but forced himself to wait until the others stumbled into him to start moving. He wasn't sure why they were getting into this stance, but he knew better than to start asking questions.

They all stood in the hall, and Cross caught a few snickers from nearby lounging guards as the rookies stood there.

"The King called upon me, so I wasn't able to meet you where we had planned," a softer, calm, voice rang, "I figured I would run into you here before you turned in for your first night."

The Captain stood before them, and beside him, exiting the barracks, was a monster.

Cross tried not to stare, but he couldn't deny that this was odd. He'd never known a captain to bend to anyone but a higher up. But...

This skeleton was dressed in a servant's uniform. Granted, it was made of a thick, soft-looking brown and tan fabric, with an apron with more embroidery than he thought he'd ever seen in his life, but it was nothing too out of place.

Surely it wasn't a Knight. No, he'd been told they wore masks. He could tell this skeleton was not a Knight. He could see the full skull, soft and gentle, calm eyelights, and a body Cross swore had never seen a single battle.

No. Cross, stop that.

He didn't tear his eyes away, but he forced himself to look back to the skeleton's shoulder. No eye-contact, but still facing him. Good.

"Soldiers, This is our Head of House, Ccino." The Captain gestured to the skeleton at his side.

The soldiers all remained silent, and the captain nodded.

"If Ccino ever gives you any sort of order, you listen." The Captain's voice was harsh with this, the same way he'd spoken about the horses, and the kitchen, and the private training rooms they'd passed. "No questions, no hesitation, no disobeying. You understand?"

The squint of the Captain's eyes were more than enough for Cross to know better than to ask. Something like this was unfamiliar, for sure, but he knew when a soldier was saying something he truly believed in. Lived by. For better or worse.

None of the other recruits seemed to speak up. Cross certainly didn't. He tried not to let his nerves show as this skeleton, Ccino, let's his soft white eyelights skim softly from one soldier to the next. When they came to him, he desperately avoided the gaze, practically staring a hole into the soft fur scarf wrapped around his neck, hiding his spine from view.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," That calm voice again, "As you heard, my name is Ccino. I manage the Castle, it's grounds, and the people who stay within our walls. This includes all if you, as of tonight."

He seemed rather put-together. Pleasant. Cross didn't feel any unease. He was positive, now, that this was not a Knight. Yet, he couldn't figure out why such a monster would be held in such high regard, unless, of course...

"As you heard, our King trusts my decisions regarding these matters, which is why he asks you listen to my requests. However, I don't abuse this privilege, and it shouldn't dissuade you from coming to me if you have any problems." Ccino pulled his arms to cross infront of him, and once again looked over the recruits. "You may be our guard, but that does not mean you shouldn't recieve help as well. If you cannot find me, ask another servant and they will get word to me."

Ccino seemed... kind. That had to be it.

The sparkle of admiration in the captain's eyes. The way some of the soldiers watched. Maybe Ccino was the golden light in this dark place? Though, that didn't seem quite right.

"Stick to your duties, remain diligent, and you will be cared for here." He said softly. "Now, stand down and go rest. Your training tomorrow will be thorough, and you will need the extra sleep."

Oh.

Cross recognized the order, and his body moved a bit before his mind could catch up. He relaxed, as much as he naturally could, and took a step. Toward the barracks. Then paused and glanced like a deer in the headlights to the Captain and the Head of House.

Ccino just smiled, and the Captain seemed stoic.

"Seems Z gets first dibs on the cots!" The Captain announced, and with his approval, humor seeping into his tone a bit, and laughter echoing from the older guard who'd been observing?

Cross made the quick duck into the room and grabbed for the first cot he saw. Bottom bunk, closest to the door, the easiest way he'd be able to leave the long room of bunk beds.

The others hurried in after him, some laughing, others cursing jokingly at Cross having noticed the test first.

The test.

Of course it'd been a test. A test to see if they'd recognize Ccino as an authority figure. A test to see if they took the warning seriously. Cross just listened to the superior officer. And... put himself in the limelight of excelling new recruits.

If there was one good thing, though it was mortifying, the others didn't seem to notice what it was. They were too busy teasing Cross for the grape blush that enveloped his face the moment he sat to think it over. The others assumed he'd just slipped up. Listened to the prettiest person in the room.

Once again, Cross wondered how they'd made it through training. Though, it was good they just thought he was a stupid lover boy. Better than them realizing he was following orders on instinct.

It'd been a hard sell, getting to sleep, but he'd managed somehow.

The morning was much easier than the night prior. He woke up before the sun, before a lot of the others even showed signs of stirring. It was good he got up so early, sneaking off probably wouldn't be much of an issue.

Tomorrow, then. He'd do his sneaking tomorrow, after he got a lay of the land today. From what they'd been told, he'd be supervised today. Everyone would. It was different from what the Prince had told him, but it didn't matter. Policies could change, and Cross knew better than to disobey new policies.

The castle inside felt like a maze yesterday, he'd hopefully have routes inside, so he'd be able to memorize at least a few escapes. Orient himself. Worst case he could break a window.

He didn't want to leave any trace, though. The best scenario, as Dream had explained it, was that he'd get in, get the information, and get out. A week, maybe a week and a half tops. Cross wanted to spend as little time here as possible. He didn't want to fall into whatever mind-control he'd been warned of. He didn't want to run into the Knights. He certainly didn't want to see Dream's twin.

Though, he was curious. What he looked like. If he could see the sibling resemblance between the Prince and his supposedly brainwashed ruler of a sibling. It was honestly none of his business. If the King never saw his face, that would be all the better. He shouldn't know Cross was ever here at all.

The thoughts swirled in hid head as he stared at the bottom of the cot above his. Wood slats, the whole thing was sturdy wood, with decent mattresses and blankets and pillows resting on its support. It didn't creak at all, which was good. And surprising. Everything in the castle seemed so nice.

Mm, must've been a thing for the people here. Serve the 'gods' and live in luxury. It certainly seemed that was how the Prince's camp had run as well.

Cross couldn't be sure how long he was awake, examining the room and sitting still, but the sun managed to rise into the sky by the time he'd heard the slamming knock on the door to the barracks.

It was easy for him. When the Captain swung the door wide open and announced, in a hardy shout, that they were to be in the hall in 5? Cross rolled out of bed the moment the door closed again.

It pained him to move so slowly. He couldn't be the first one out again. Couldn't be the first one dressed. He didn't know why it took so long for the others to change to their uniforms and rub the sleep from their eyes. Monsters and humans alike! They hustled, some of them, and Cross was grateful a cat monster seemed to gather herself more readily than the others. An orange striped cat, her nose and the tip of her tail a stark white. Cross only noticed her when she rushed for the door, and he let himself trail her a moment later.

Thinking back, she'd been at the back of the group yesterday, joking with some of the others. Cross wondered what the energy change was all about.

He didn't get time to worry about it, though. The hall outside the barracks was busier than it had been last night, and Cross found himself facing, not only the Captain, but also several guards. They each seemed to be in full uniform, different than Cross' or the cat's which marked them as trainees. They seemed stoic before their captain, and Cross almost felt a moment if relief. Maybe this was a decent show of artillery?

No, wait, strong soldiers would be bad for the Prince. He'd have to get through these guys.

He shook away the thought, listening in as he stood awkwardly in the hall, another recruit lumbering out to stand where he'd joined the cat already.

The Captain looked them over, before nodding.

"Harper, you're with Jenna." The Captain ordered, pointing from the cat before gesturing towards one of the guard directly behind him.

Cross tried not to let his eyelights give away his observance as the guard stepped around her captain. She seemed to be a bunny monster, lots of fur and long, floppy ears tied behind her head. She, Jenna, saluted the cat, Harper, and Harper saluted in return.

"Listen to what your mentor tells you, got it?" The Captain asked, and Cross saw a few others exiting as he said this.

Those who started moving down the hall, and the Capatin looked to Cross. It was a kick glance, one look-over, before he turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Z, you're with Shep." And a gesture guided Cross towards whoever his mentor for the day would be.

From nearly the back of the crowd, snaked a dog monster. Black and white, short-trimmed fur. His eyes were brown and intense, and after a moment Cross realized this guard was shorter than him. He didn't like that when Shep saluted, he had to peer down to salute back.

He hardly even registered that they were already moving off, not unlike the two before them had done, until he'd taken a few steps to follow this small royal guard.

"So, you're Z?" Shep asked him as they stopped a few halls away. This one was largely barren aside from a few servants. Along each wall hung a huge tapestry, woven out of heavy threads and hung by a long piece of metal along the top edge.

"Yes, sir." Cross responded shortly. Not giving himself a moment to stammer.

Shep looked at his quizzically, before he leaned forward and sniffed. Actually just sniffed at Cross. It was still a few inches away, they didn't make contact, but suddenly he worried he was stinky. He's bathed before hopping on the cart, and he hadn't been exercising much, surely-

"Ah, you're not from this Kingdom! Not originally, at least." Shep said then, leaning away just as quickly as he'd gotten close.

Cross blinked, and he was sure his skull didn't hide his shock as well as he'd hoped. "I can smell the pollen on you, newbie. We don't have those kinda plants in this kingdom." He explained, and Cross internally cursed himself. Would he have to run? Would he have to-

"You know, I'm not from this kingdom either, I was born to the west." Shep admitted then, easily, using a paw to gesture loosely at the space between them, "I bet we'll get along just fine, newbie. C'mon. I'll show you around your route."

Cross didn't even get a spare second to defend himself, or puzzle at why a foreign monster would choose to come here. Shep was already on his way, back turned and hurrying down the hall at a brisk pace.

"As far as I know You're gonna be taking over my old route, inner portion of the castle." Cross listened, but orders were his second nature. As they walked, he eyed the tapestries hung along the wall. Long and intense, and yet, there was a moment where Cross could see the colors were more faded and worn.

"You'll mostly just be patrolling, watching out for anything out of the ordinary, waiting to see if you're needed for any specific duties." The images showed monsters, humans, monsters again. Depictions of complex circles and red splashes dripping from weapons and hands. And he noticed a trend, eventually. These must've been the previous rulers. The past Kings.

"Your patrols will be alone, the rooms in the hall aren't too important, and it's mostly servants that pass through that way." Cross almost lost his rhythm as they drew to the end of the tapestry, though the hall kept moving. There on the tapestry was a depiction of two little skeletons, one which seemed strikingly similar to Prince Dream, even in his adulthood. Beyond, the tapestry simply stopped. It was odd that King Nightmare hadn't bothered to get it finished with his own visage. Maybe his puppetmaster was waiting to put himself there instead?

"Still important, anyways. The servants halls are the easiest ways in and out of the castle, so we can't slack off." They turned a corner, and Cross pried his eyes away from the tapestry and back before him.

They passed a few more halls, before Shep stopped dead in his tracks, and Cross reacted quickly, spotting the way he peaked around the next corner.

Across the way, Cross spotted that they'd run into another pair who had also stopped. Only when Shep saluted did Cross think to follow his lead.

From the hall he couldn't see, emerged a figure.

Cross kept his eyelights to the ground, but the steps, the shoes, the heavy cape, and especially the dark and slimey tendrils which snaked along in his wake? That was the King. The one Dream had been so particular about not running into at all.

Two sets of feet followed him. Closely. He didn't have to look up to recognize that they must've been Knights. The easy weight of their steps, how close they stuck behind the king, the weight of the one's magic? Surely. He didn't risk a glance until after Shep lifted his head again. Cross only caught a glimpse of a tiger mask turning another corner before the three figures were gone.

In the tense silence, Cross swore he could hear his soul beating. He wasn't sure if it was fear, or indignance, or something else, but he knew being so close to the King had not made him feel good. Dream had been right, something about that guy was wrong.

Shep glanced around, and his ear twitched, watching down the hall where they'd left to.

The group across from them was already moving, towards the hall Cross had just cone from.

"You know, you kids are lucky Newbie." Shep voiced then, eying up the human rookie who was passing by. "When I first joined the guard, the King cut my tail off to prove my loyalty."

He said it so easily that Cross was speechless. What did he mean? Was. His tail was docked, but...

"What?!" The panicked whisper came from the passing humans who had obviously been eavesdropping. He expressed the concern coating Cross's soul and freezing him in place.

"Yep. I heard he used it as a cat toy for the strays." Shep confirmed loosely.

"Shep." Came the snap of his name from the other trained guard, though they didn't move to deny his claim.

Cross hadn't heard anything about that from Dream. Of course, he also hadn't heard about this introduction process either. He was flying blindly here, and suddenly he feared for his limbs.

Shep simply shrugged and kept moving forward. Cross wanted, badly, to excuse himself right this moment and go back and claim he couldn't do it. But he was here now, and he had a Prince to help. And a whole lot of people relying on him to prevent more tragedies.

The training wasn't hard. Shep stood with him, made small-talk, told him all the tricks to ensure he knew when someone would switch off with him, and then they had lunch.

He hated to admit it, but the food was delicious. He hadn't had something so filling in... maybe ever. He couldn't put his finger on it, not quite, but for monster food, it felt solid. Warmer. He felt less hungry after, and a part of him wondered if that was how they did it. The mind control. Was it the food?

But, no, surely not. He was still set on his mission when he went right back to his rounds. The food was just... strangely good.

The rest of the rounds were easy. Simple. And there was at least an hour after where Shep willingly guided him through the rest of the building. At least, anywhere he could.

Cross noticed, once, that Shep broke a rule. He ducked into the kitchen. Returned to a surprised Cross with two pieces of bread and handed one to Cross before tearing into his own. Apparently, from what Shep said, the main kitchen wasn't off-limits. Not really. Just the private one.

He didn't ask about the difference, he wouldn't need to know, after all. He doubted plans of attack were stached in the cupboards of a pantry.

And just as swiftly as it had begun, it ended. Shep said he'd be around the training grounds tomorrow if Cross needed him, and released him to dinner. After Dinner, Cross went back to the barracks.

Many of the rookies were talking all about their routes, others complaining that they had gotten cleaning duties for being the last out of the barracks that morning. They'd start training tomorrow. Cross tried not to contribute much, but he liked listening in. Understanding more about the place. The people.

It sounded like the King had crossed quite a few of their paths as well, and they didn't seem happy about it. Discussing in hushed tones how weird the King was compared to the last. Dark, secretive, hardly even a ruler. Cruel. He heard the human from before shamelessly telling Shep's tail misfortune to the gathered group, who all seemed to be riled up by it, exchanging other horrible speculations.

He needed to get this information. He just... he couldn't do anything until the others were asleep. So. Morning it would be.

Cross was a coward.

He knew as much, deep down somewhere, but as he woke up early again, he thought through his plan. He didn't know where he'd find any of this information he needed, he didn't know anything beyond his own route. He didn't even know what he'd be finding. He'd know when he found it, he was sure, but the last thing he wanted to do was get caught

He should've excused himself during dinner to go search around, or chosen a buddy to go wandering with. Shep had told him some things, he knew the room where the Knights trained was the indoor room, and he knew some areas no one went to. He knew the hall where the Knights and King stayed, Cross found it interesting they all stayed nearby, and he'd promised himself he'd avoid the space like the plague. He knew so much, and so little, all at once.

And he waited, thinking, so long that he... he just got up as the others did. Moved to his station to rotate shifts with the night guards. He just... did his duties again.

Well, they weren't his duties. He had no obligation to be here, not really. But the Prince had told him a week. A week and a half. That would make the most sense for an in and out. So, he wanted to respect that. And he had orders now to act out. Surely if he slacked off it'd be noticed, right? Yeah. He'd just slip away before dinner and say he went to train a bit more. Peak into some doorways. No biggy. Surely.

He worried about what he'd do to pick up a slack he hadn't even lost, all day. All through his rounds. If he showed it, his replacement at his last post said nothing, and waved him off.

Cross wanted so desperately to go searching. But. Before he could pass by the hall which would lead to the mess hall for the servants and guard? He glimpsed them from down the adjoining hall.

Two of the Knights.

One with a hood obscuring his face, casting a heavy shadow over everything, his eyelights a dull white. Though he didn't see a mask at first glance, Cross had to make some assumptions based on the one beside him that they were both Knights.

The other had on leather training armor, and a tiger's mask, red ribbons hanging from it, swaying with weight. He could see the skeleton's grin peaking from beneath the mask, and noticed how the tiger draped an arm over the other and laughed.

Cross didn't even give them a second to notice him, swiftly stepping out of the corridor and towards the dining halls after all. He didn't want to get in the way. He didn't want to be on their radar.

He needed to know when they trained. When they'd all be occupied so he wouldn't have to worry about them catching him off-guard.

Off guard. Ink would be having a hayday with that one if he'd made that joke back at camp.

Cross just kept moving forward, ducking into the dining space before the Knights even reached that hall.

Three days. It took him 6 whole days to learn more. To learn where the information might be. To learn where the Knights usually were at any given time. To learn how to navigate the place better. To not worry about getting caught.

He'd gone back to Shep one day, to test if he'd be told to go off the dinner or if he'd be sought out. He was not, so he had his proof that no one cared so long as he was doing his rounds.

He'd sat and talked. Asked about the Knights. (Shep had little to say that Cross didn't already know). Asked about training. (Shep said he was always out here now, running routines.) Asked about the king.

And Shep was interested about him asking on the King. Cross almost fumbled, but said he'd heard a lot of rumors. Shep had been here a while. What was true?

And Shep told him stories. In a low voice. Of the King breaking spines, of throwing objects with his tendrils, of sentencing folks to death over minor transgressions. Of his ruthless rule and cruel first. How he brought in servants and guards by force. Ripping them from their homes. How the king would declare traitors and have them hung.

Eventually, Cross asked him to stop. He'd heard enough.

Some of those things he'd heard from Dream, or the folks back at that encampment. Others were new. Insider information. Things he'd never dreamed of.

It was informational, and Cross decided that he'd keep learning more, until he was sure he had the perfect moment to strike.

He wasn't the smartest, okay?

Cross had done his rounds, and the moment he was done, he scurried off towards his destination.

He paid no mind to servants or guards, and used a servant's hall to arrive in the location he needed. The hall where the King's Study was located.

Yesterday he'd investigated the war room. Entering and closing the doors behind him, the room had been a mess of papers and figures and notes. The maps of each neighboring kingdom alone were strewn on walls, like the ravings of a mad-man. None of them had plans of attack, though. The light from his eyelights had been enough to illuminate each one as he approached. Every single one was a new defensive plan. Ways to deploy troops if they were attacked. Not one seemed unprovoked which was... strange.

Cross was almost unable to find any sign of the King's next route of action for his destructive feats, so he was resigned to search the study tomorrow. His only solace was that exiting the War Room had only been met with a servant a ways down the hall, and a cat pacing by, paying him no mind.

The cats in this place were many. Cross had never seen so many cats in one place, and when he'd asked at dinner, it seemed that everyone thought they belonged to the Head of House, Ccino.

It would make sense, Cross had seen the embroidery along his apron, plenty of paws and cat-like figures along the hemlines, between the branch and tree motif the entire building seemed set on holding tight to. But, it amazed him that there would be so many, allowed to run free. The King must've been very lenient with his Head of House, to allow so many creatures free-roam.

...then again, the Knights wore masks decorated with Big Cats. Cross had finally caught a glimpse of the Lion, out on the lawn while he was talking to Shep. He carried an Axe twice the size of Cross' torso, and he seemed to wield it with hardly any problem. Cross just hoped the little beasts weren't being sacrificed. He'd heard about the barbaric practices from Ink once when he had his head on straight. He hadn't had the guts to bring it up to the Prince. Or Shep. Fearing the answer.

And so, now, he moved for the study. When he knew no one would be around, when no one would see him or bother him. He could dig through the information, tuck it away in his ribcage, and get out of dodge.

It was mid-day. Apparently the Knights tended to have training about now, and the King always supervised. So the forbidden hall, as the others called it, was dead and silent.

It wasn't hard to determine which door was the study, the door was carved carefully with a beautiful tree, and the handle was a shining gold, as though it got less use than the other rooms. He tested the handle, it moved, and he slipped inside.

Of course it wouldn't be locked. Who would have the guts to go snooping around in the private spaces of murderous tyrant kings? Well. Cross would, but that was besides the point.

The inside was lit by a few stray candles, and Cross tried not to marvel at the luxury of the room. Everything was carved out of dark wood, with golden fabric lacing the cushions of lounge seats and the curtains which covered the windows. It was darker, used, but still gorgeous. The daylight filtered in through an open window, giving it a warm ambience. Cross didn't know how a room used by such an unpleasant man would be so calm and soft.

There was a case along one wall, large and long. Hung inside were masks of all different shapes and styles. Some were decorated with swirls and gems, but most resembled animals. A crane, a swan, a horse, a sheep, a hawk, a wolf, they all stared out at him with blank, empty, sockets. He wondered if these were used or not, but they seemed untouched.

And beside that case, in the far corner, sat a heavy desk, with bookshelves filled to the brim tucked just behind it.

The desk was heavy, and it looked to be covered with papers, letter drafts, just a quick glance over the contents told Cross this was just what he needed.

He stood behind the desk, unable to stop himself from lifting the papers up into his hands. From here he could see the door, as well. He'd know if someone was coming.

The first paper he looked at seemed to be the draft of a letter, addressed to someone by the name of Crop. The handwriting was beautiful, and Cross was lucky Ink knew how to write in so many dialects, or he'd have trouble deciphering exactly what this was saying. The cursive was precise. And... it seemed a half-finished letter asking about plants. The state of a harvest? No, that's strange.

Cross lifted the few pages which had been tucked beneath the first, confused. These ones seemed to be written in a much more unsure writing, but they held what he could only call sketches. Showing clouds and plants and... fields? Cross wasn't familiar with farming, but he could recognize a field anywhere. The paper had a few words underlined and circled, and they seemed to be later additions, added overtop by someone else. The words seemed to be mentioned again in the letter draft? It was completely innocuous. If this was the King's letter, he was just asking about the wellbeing of a farmer's harvest. Asking about improvements.

He moved them hastily into a stack and set them aside, reaching for the next haphazard bundle of paper. That couldn't have been right.

The next piece he scooped up was in that same pretty cursive, but this time it wasn't a letter. Instead it was some sort of list. Locations, some crossed off, and some untouched. Was this what he was searching for? Surely this was it.

He moved to grab the next page that had been beneath it. It held more context, it seemed. Notes scribbled down about how these towns needed changes. Action. Cross looked to the first crossed-off name, one he recognized from one of the woman at Dream's encampment.

The paper read of a faulty justice system, a lawman who needed to be checked up on for counts of bribery and false accusations. She'd said the Knight, the tiger, had arrived and asked for their head of city guard, the one who enforced rules and kept peace in their small village. Two days later he was killed, replaced by someone the King installed, and he started jailing innocent folks.

Cross looked to the next one, a pass where travel had been haunted by the royal guard. He'd been told they'd done it to halt people from mining in the area, a crop of wealth the King wanted to hoard. But this said that it was a mountain pass with frequent and dangerous rocks lines thanks to a sudden increase in storms since his rule. Notes reminding of supplies, and pay, and signs. Signs.

The next was not crossed off. An issue of bandits ransacked the town when people would enter or exit. Notes in messier scrawl seemed to pose solutions. Ideas. One that was circled said 'Send Horror, Autumn'. It was nearing the end of summer now.

This did seem to be the list that Dream had suggested existed, my twin is organized, he'll have a list with extensive notes, but he'd said nothing about the way the list wouldn't actually contain anything incriminating.

He skimmed again, but it seemed like nothing harmful. One lower down even acknowledged a damage caused during some sort of raid and to divert funds to someone. A random shopkeep in an outer city. This didn't add up at all.

He folded the paper silently and stuffed it into his armor, but kept looking. No doubt there would be something else. One of the lower pieces, something hidden away.

But the papers atop the desk seemed just as helpful in nature. Even ones like drafted decrees or laws to impose later were not unreasonable. One even seemed to propose a ban on child labor. What kind of tyrant would pass up a chance for easy workers?

Digging through the drawers revealed nothing more, just an impressive collection of quills, ink, and more books it seemed didn't fit on the shelves behind him. He wouldn't find anything more useful than these documents, he was sure. He... he just hoped the Prince would be able to see whatever evil Cross was obviously missing here. He scooped up another piece, one of the decrees, and then the letter draft to that Crop. Maybe they could speak to him? No, the planning was up to Dream. He was just here to get the information and go.

And now that he had it...

Cross sighed a bit, he couldn't understand why these were the things in here. In this innermost sanctum where only the trusted went. Everyone feared this King so much, Dream claimed he and his master were such a threat. And yet all Cross could find was a record of damages, and a plan to enact damage control. It...

"Having some trouble finding the dirt?"

Cross felt his entire soul freeze up as the voice cut through the silent room. It was quiet, and deep, and a bit gravelly. He didn't recognize it, but that didn't matter, because he knew he had been alone.

Almost all at once, a wave of presence crashed over his awareness. That damp static that had passed by once in the hall. Trailing the King. He didn't have to look up to know it was one of the Knights somewhere before him.

"Our King isn't usually one to make a mess." The voice said again, calmly.

Cross dragged his eyelights up, hands tentatively hovering at his sides. There, sat comfortably on one of the chairs, was the hooded one. Dust, Shep had told him.

Now, despite the shadow cast by his hood, Cross could see the faint details of his panther mask, black and hidden away in the darkness of his cover. He seemed entirely at-ease, not a care in the world, watching Cross. If his soul hadn't been sinking into his gut, Cross would've even thought Dust found the situation humorous.

He steeled himself, watching. Could he try and bluff his way out of this? Somehow? How long had Dust been there? How much had he seen?

"Any chance you'd believe I was looking for a good book?" Cross asked, though the bold humor he'd attempted to channel in the way Ink had done so many times before fell flat. Maybe his growing panic was clouding his mind, or maybe he'd never been much of a comedian.

Dust just stared at him, tilting his head a bit. By the way his eyelights changed shape, Cross imagined his sockets had drooped to give an unamused stare. Not a great sign.

"Are you going to try and run, or can I catch a break today?" Dust just asked across the room.

Mm. Cross didn't have much of a choice here anymore. Dream had told him, drilled it into his skull, not to get caught. Especially not by the Knights. They'd torture him. Kill him. The stories of what they did to traitors... Cross couldn't let this knight get hold of him. Couldn't be trapped. He had to get out of here.

He promised Ink he'd be back.

With that thought, his sword summoned to his hand in a flash. It was big, and bulky, and not the best for an indoor fight, but he'd make due. He just needed to get away from this guy. That was all.

His summons was clearly a declaration of intent, because he heard Dust scoff over the rush of adrenaline running through him and roaring through his ears. All at once, the electric charge in the room seemed to up itself. Bones, blue, cracked downwards from the rafters and planted themselves sturdy before the door and the window. His two possible exits. Dust stood up and stretched his arms before him.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Dust voiced, then.

Cross nearly let his guard down in the first moment. He felt a charge of energy coming from his side, and narrowly vaulted over the desk to avoid the spiked and jagged bones which rose where his feet had just been planted.

Momentum carried him now, and his sword was already poised for attack before his mind quick processed it. He slashed at Dust, growing rapidly closer. Hid swing was met with pure white bones that stopped his swing, just enough for Dust to avoid the hit with a split second to spare.

He was quiet, as they fought. As Cross lunged and spun and threw himself forward with grunts of exertion. It was unsettling, how the only noises were the cracks of his magic ripping into existence or Cross's sword cracking them to pieces like a lumberjack's axe.

He kept his attention on Dust. The magic had a pattern. The room was buzzing ambiently, and right before an attack it was like being too close to a fire. Just briefly. Cross barely managed to avoid spearing his ankle thanks to the crackle. He wished he could be a bit faster, though. Cross couldn't feel where an attack was aiming like he normally could. Dust gave no indications as to where an attack would be channeling either, almost like he wasn't controlling them at all. He didn't like it, it was unpredictable, and was wearing him down fast.

Dust kept dodging his swings, no matter how fast he moved, and eventually Cross stumbled. His shoulder connected with one of the random jutting bones. Dust stepped back just before it pierced upwards, and Cross grunted in distress as it drove him back a step as to not get impaled.

That was apparently his mistake. The moment he wasn't close to Dust, bones seemed to crop up all around him, gutting at different angles, just barely piercing the bone, little cracks forming with the force. Cross could feel each one jab a bit deeper than the last. Each time he reversed to get away from one or break away an incoming volley, another would arrive behind him at a new angle.

He hated that Dust stood back. Watched. The only sign that he had even broken a sweat was a slight heaviness to the up and down of his shoulders, and while Cross hadn't lost much HP yet, he was starting to feel the exhaustion creep closer, and each little wound and crack seemed to be draining him. Was this the strategy? Play with him like a living pin-cushion? Was this it's own sort of-

Cross shifted his stance and unsummoned his weapon as he jumped up and out of the quickly growing ring of spikes. He had to act fast. He had to get out of here.

He grumbled a bit under his breath, he didn't like trying to do this, but...

The moment his feet landed, Cross summoned up his other piece of magic. The part his father had embedded into his soul early on in his life which made him so powerful. He was sure his normally white eyelight changed shape in the split second it happened. Red, bright red.

It only took a moment, a tug at the very being, hidden away in the Knight's chest. For a split second, he could feel the control of foreign magic slip into his own hands.

For a moment, it worked just as he knew it would. His fist trembled under the effort, keeping an eye on Dust as the other seemed to stare at him. The bones he'd summoned all seemed to sink away at once, recalled faster than Cross could've hoped. Dust seemed to feel his magic stop responding to him.

Cross just needed to get the Knight downed. Not dead. He just needed out.

He shifted stiffly. One, concentrated blast of bones at the Knight. He seemed like he didn't want to risk taking any damage. That was all Cross needed then. Some damage. And he'd be free to escape back to the camp. Away from these weird monsters with their weird magic.

He let his palm open, directing the force like he'd done so many times, channeling another monster's magic against them. Controlling it against their will.

The feeling of electricity rose again. It spiked. It. It gathered in his hand, that burning feeling he felt when an attack had been about to hit him.

What?

It was too late to recall the intent once he'd released it. The moment he tried to command the magic, he felt it all roll back over him. Bones meant to be aimed at their owner came jolting straight at his front. And though he stumbled back, he couldn't escape the searing pain of a fire too hot to process escaping his bones and immediately rushing up his arm, into his chest, down to his feet.

He had to imagine, with the loud sound like a cracking whip, that that was what being struck by lightning felt like. Molten metal in your veins.

Cross laid sprawled, dazed, on the floor as his control magic puttered out. It hurt to breathe. To see. To exit. He was half-convinced his arm was completely splintered apart after the pulse of raw magic that had filtered through it, but he didn't bother to look.

His soul begged him to move, to get up and run again, but darkness danced in his vision as he stared up at the ceiling. He failed his mission.

He hated to see as the Knight rounded into view, standing cautiously over where he was laid. Floored by the backfire of his power. If the knight said anything, he couldn't hear over the loud ringing invading his head.

Though, instead of stabbing him through like Cross had expected, the knight seemed to duck down. A cool feeling encased Cross' wrists (so the other hadn't broken apart) and his soul suddenly felt exhausted. He felt exhausted.

No matter how much he wanted to stay awake, to escape, he lost this fight fair and square.

#new age au #Y'ALL my formatting obliterated my italics so I apologize....#some narrative beats will feel weird!!! raugh!!!!#anyways yeag #Cross is a goofy lil guy and he's strong af #but he's also very naive and quick to trust blindly. even when he thinks he's being careful and getting a second opinion #and also he's not quite ready to fight to kill again and so Dust is quick to push him around there at the end <3 #neither are trying to kill eachother (The Knights agreed they'd try and get information. Cross just doesn't want blood on his hands or a #target on his back.)#and Dust is just a lot more exoerienced!#Cross' msgic btw (if it isn't clear) is a weird subversion of the Overwrite power #where Cross can temporarily seize control of a Monster's magic and use it against them as though it's his own (relies on embedded #Determination to 'overwrite' control lol)#unfortunately for Cross? Dust's magic isn't actually originating from his soul. it's *outside #* his soul providing power and energy that his emotions influence as though it's his soul.#so Cross can decide where the magic is concentrated. but not where or who or how it manifests a #d attacks :]#so. Cross basically pulled all of Dust's small concentrated bursts of controlled magic and released them directly into his own face lmao #Dust's magic is truly an enigma <3 #AND I think later on when they work together Cross helps Dust center and aim his magic (because Dust is just used to dealing with its chaoti #c nature rather than actually controlling it. so it's a bonus special combo attack they could do if they needed that specific #style of attack!)#anywho yeah #Shep will be a reoccurring character btw. he and Harper I think!#Harper is a young upstart who actually kinda likes being in the castle (Cats being sacrificed for so long in the kingdom did leave a bad rep #on Cat monsters. so Nightmare being fond of and protecting them makes Harper feel a lot more loyalty than she'd like to admit.)#and Shep. well. let's just say Nightmare hired him on for the guard personally :]#andd yeah!!!#i'm sure I'm missing something but I hope y'all enjoy!!!

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