#thanks for reading if you made it this far

[raleighrador]

Thanks for the thoughtful reply!

You obviously (and everyone) is free to make whatever choices around what and how they consume etc so I am not trying to persuade you of anything but I am interested in pursuing this thinking.

Please correct me if I misrepresent anything you said or are trying to articulate.

My basic issue is that in order to accept all of the above we need to rely on what seems to be a false premise: that AI created writing [art in general?] lacks perspective because perspective is a function of choice, and choice is something only humans can do, therefore AI writing cannot have perspective.

First, it isn't clear to me that perspective is a function of choice (certainly not only or even primarily). At the most macro level, if perspective is foundational informed by the lives we've lived, we didn't choose those lives nor do we consciously translate those experiences into a defined perspective. Our perspective is an emergent phenomenon. Translating that into writing - absolutely a human writer makes choices (some conscious some unconscious) about what to put on the page and what to leave off. My claim here is that far more of it is conscious than not. The majority of grammar, diction, arrangement etc is defined for us by custom that we operate within. Faulkner and Joyce are famous examples of not that but are a) exceptions and b) largely incomprehensible (one lit major's gripe). The vast majority of the vast majority of written work is - at best - more like your example of a collage than not. We all have the same lego pieces and the same rules and we're just moving them about.

What informs that arrangement is some choices and a lot of just baked in preferences and habits and patterns.

Second, even if we accept that perspective is a function of (conscious) choice this then needs to be integrated into our characterisation of what "AI writing" is. So far as I am aware there is very little "purely" AI writing i.e. an AI spontaneously picked a topic and generated something. These tools - certainly in the context of e.g. fanfic writing - are all human driven i.e. a human booted up chatgpt and at minimum wrote a prompt and hit "generate".

I guess it is possible that these people are then copy pasting and publishing these outputs without even reading them but that seems unlikely. I think the minimum interaction is they read them and decide if they like them or not - and then publish.

Why are they not making a choice about what to include or not? How is the process so fundamentally different to a more typical writing process? This becomes more evidently (to me) similar when you imagine that this "AI author" likely gets the AI to draft and redraft the output multiple times. They're engaging with what the AI produces and then directing it to make changes - choosing what to tell it to emphasise or remove etc.

If it is human choice that creates perspective, that seems to exist in writing even where the bulk of the "writing" was done by AI.

2 other thought experiments that spring to mind: 1) if the act of consuming output created by others and then saying "more X less Y" is NOT sufficient to create perspective, would you say that the director of a movie is not creating a perspective? They didn't write the script, they didn't say the lines, they didn't sew the costumes. They watched other people read other peoples' dialogue and then they say "make it more/less". 2) Do Jackson Pollock painting's have perspective? He made choices about colour and the force with which he threw or dribbled paint but he didn't control where the paint landed. How much choice, how much control, is required for perspective? And if they don't have a perspective does that mean they aren't worth engaging with?

I think both of the above imply that even absent the majority of the labour you can make choices and those create a perspective AND that conscious choice derived perspective is not a prerequisite for something to be worth engaging with.

I think this land son my third point which - regardless of any of the above the majority of the perceived perspective of a given piece of material is in fact RECEIVED perspective i.e. it is what the VIEWER brings that creates that perspective as much if not more than what the author intends. This is a pretty standard post modern position but even if you think Barthes is a hack the fact that so many people in academia or elsewhere fill so much time arguing over what was meant by any given piece of media is evidence of the fact that a significant portion of the perceived "meaning" of art is created by the viewer and not the artist.

What that implies is even if you accept that AI created/supported writing has none of the human choices that create an identifiable artist's perspective, that doesn't mean the work upon being read wont have a perspective projected onto it.

I think this paragraph of yours is interesting: "Could there be a person-made work that's just as bland and vapid as a ChatGPT work? Sure. A thousand monkeys and a thousand typewriters, etc. Even as I'm sure the person-made work would have a perspective ChatGPT lacks, I'm sure there's a work (or likely several) where I, as a reader, couldn't distinguish whether it's human-written or ChatGPT-generated. But humans also use heuristics to make choices; I've never read a ChatGPT-generated work that I remember a few days later, and I've read hundreds of human-written works that I do remember. It's just a better bet for my time to not bother with a ChatGPT-generated work and read a human-written work instead, even if I might hit a dull work every once in a while."

I basically look at this the other way round - the question is not "Can humans make art as bad as ChatGPT?" the question is "can ChatGPT create art as interesting and engaging as human created art". To me the answer is yes.

I get your point about heuristics but it seems to me that "was this written by/with extensive help from chatGPT" is not a good heuristic, in the exact same way that "was this written by the author in a single draft with no edits and no input from anyone else ever" or "was this written by a committee of authors who all mutually edited each other's drafts" are helpful heuristics.

Again, I am not seeking to convince you of anything and if this heuristic is helpful for you that is great, but I don't understand how.

just saw a fanfic on ao3 have a dedication for chatgpt... that section is meant for your horny perverted mutual who proofread your work, you violated sacred law and you will be torn apart and laid bare btw

[takes1]

Hiii, I love all ur fics sm! Ur literally so talented omgg

I wanted to request a fic where Oikawa and short/academically inclined reader are friends with benefits. I think it would be fun to see them get jealous and tiptoe around their feelings for each other since they don’t wanna ruin what they have. Can it also be nsfw and could u add some angst pls? Thank youu!

f*cking jealous!oikawa in secret

hi! thank you so much!! hope this interpretation is alright!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / short!reader / jealous!oikawa / popular x loser trope / jock x nerd trope / tutor!reader / subby-switch!oikawa / switch!reader / oikawa with a nerd fetish / needy!oikawa towards the end / kind of hate fucking? / oikawa being mean / riding / implied oral / fluff, angst, and smut / reader with glasses / 1.8k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines

"You're sooo lucky to tutor him, (Y/n),"

Your hopeless friend sighed, scrolling through Oikawa's Instagram for the upteenth time.

"I'd give anything to spend that much time alone with him."

It was a little creepy, but you loved her. Other girls fawning over your secret fuck-buddy was something you had to -begrudgingly- get used to. It pained you more when it was somebody so close, but nothing was worth coming clean about it.

The last thing you needed during senior year was a target on your back.

"Oh, he's such a prick!" You wave her off and grab your drink from the café counter with a smaller, pleasant, 'Thank you.'

The table was more of a C-curved booth that your group had to shimmy into. The shape made it hard to get in and out of, rather serving as an ultra-cozy prison to focus on your studies, your caffeine, and your snacks.

As a way of not letting you off the hook so easily- your friends cracked open their notes, laptops, textbooks, while entertaining the 'absurd' idea that any of you could actually date Johsai's least eligible bachelor.

A bunch of star-students with decorated academic achievements was the only impressive thing about the patrons at your favorite, quiet, coffee house. With- maybe-- the exception of money in eyeglass prescriptions, or luxurious stationery that decorated the table.

Your voice stood as the most displeased, the most troubled, of the discussion. You flipped through the chapters, halfway forgetting what page you needed to be on, because you got caught up in his shortcomings.

"He doesn't listen- he takes my hours away from people who might actually need it- he's, obviously, got the biggest ego I've ever seen--, Oh- hold up."

It was a struggle to flip to your page and rummage around your pocket for your buzzing phone.

"Well, I'm glad somebody's got some common sense-," Was the only guy in your group, disgruntled at all the Oikawa-talk.

Oikawa's name flashed across your screen. Your body seized and you hugged it to your chest.

"Woah!"

"You good?"

"I'm just--gonna take this outside," You cleared your throat and sank all the way to the floor, crawling over shoes and bags from under the table to get far away from your friends.

It was on the second-to-last ring by the time you hurried outside. You hated him for many things, but the wind picked up, spraying a chilly mist all over your clothes, and you couldn't help but associate him with the feeling. Your hoodie was still inside, forgotten in your haste.

"What? I'm busy right now." You spat, shivering already.

"Don't fog your glasses up, princess."

His easy, light tone particularly bothered you. You groaned.

"Get to the point, pretty boy, I'm busy--,"

"I know. I just called to say you should stop talking about me. Reads as a bit... obsessive, don't you think?"

The breath you took to poke a hole in his 'obsessive' argument gave way to nothing- except a silent realization.

"You're- where are you?"

You squinted at the dark window, but it was one-way.

Oikawa watched you turn to the parking lot, smirking, from inside the cafe.

He sighed, a real airy, fake one; the one he knew you loved to hear from him in bed.

His voice was lower, closer to the receiver. "I thought you said you were busy?"

The audacity to call you obsessive, mixing with the adrenaline his sudden proximity shot into your system. You pressed 'end call.'

When you re-entered the cafe, you spotted him immediately. He was walking back to his booth, one away from yours, from the restrooms. Though you both saw each other, there was hardly an indication that you knew one another at all, thanks to so much practice.

It was, still, hard to watch him slide into a seat right next to some other girl.

So, he heard you talking shit about him while on a date, then left her to go call you? You rejoined your booth, and spared a mean glance over at him, like the absolute garbage he was. He returned it with lesser intensity.

-

You'd think, with his cock in your hand, he wouldn't bring up the events of that morning. It put him in a less-than ideal position.

"Y'knoww,"

He hadn't said anything yet, but your eyes were rolling. Used to the attitude, and equipped with a firm point to make, he continued:

"You should ditch- ahh, that little loser in your little friend group."

A little roll of your hips had him wincing- spreading the slickness all across his dick, from all the work he had put in, already.

You cocked your head at him, "Oh, yeah?"

Oikawa's eyes rolled back into his skull, a groan at how hot you looked, grinding on him. You were his perfect, nerdy little secret. He specifically wanted you to keep your glasses on today. It was a thing. You didn't understand it in its entirety, but it likely had a connection to the reason why he opted for a lowkey arrangement.

"And you should ditch that shallow whore--,"

"Oh my god!" He gasped, surprised to hear such a thing uttered from your mouth, "Fuuuck you're so jealous-!"

"Me?"

It was completely unfair and utter bullshit that he acted like his jealousy was nonexistent. To him, only you could get out of your pay grade. He pretended to forget that the only reason you were fucking multiple times a week was because he 'needed' you so bad. You felt a little exploited.

"That's so hot-aughhh!"

His big, strong hands were forcing your cunt against his slippery, thick cock, since you wouldn't move quite right.

"M-mmh-! Tha-t's-," You struggled, voice breaking, hands against his muscular chest, "Not- mh, fair."

Your textbooks, his assignment due in 40 minutes, were neglected on the floor across his bedroom. Your tutoring was basically roleplay. It turned him on as soon as you got to talking about the relevant class material, telling him that the work he had already done was wrong.

It turned you on too, to an extent. You liked that you got him stiff without trying, without touching. You loved when he pretended like he wasn't, but bounced his leg right next to yours, cleared his throat before every response, got caught staring like some depraved creature.

You were exactly his type. He was the hottest guy you'd ever met. Something had to give.

"I- ah, don't wanna--," He fucked you hard, like you had a ring on your finger, "See you talk to that loser again."

He couldn't stand the threat of being second place. A guy with such a precious ego needed to feel like you wouldn't leave him. While your social structure may have harbored the suggestion that this would be the case, it wasn't an accurate representation of your feelings.

The whimper lacing his voice grew as you placed a firm hand around his throat.

"Don't- date- other girls." You threatened through gritted teeth and bitten-back moan.

It was just your luck that the most ridiculous peacock of a man would have such a great dick, give you such great head, that you couldn't live and let this fucked-up situationship die. The timer of the semester ticked away, standing as an informal end to it, so neither of you had the gall to cut things off before you needed to.

He whined under your touch, bottoming out hard, keeping himself as deep as he could get.

The lonely bastard draped his arms around you and pulled you close.

"Mmh- you know I gotta- h-ah, keep up appearances for us, princess," His quiet mutter, spilled across your shoulder, forced a shiver down your spine.

His sheets smelled just like him.

You loosened your grip and decided to play with his soft, lush locks, taking in his scent, his touch- that feeling. Like you were his, but not in some twisted, shameful way.

You wanted one of his shirts but it wasn't that simple.

For the moment, you chased the dream, while he was still gentle and peppering you in kisses.

Maybe in some perfect world, he would let go of his status, be a little less weird about your intelligence, and you could have a boyfriend instead of a glorified dildo.

He sounded close, so you fucked him back, hand back on his throat; you wondered how many girls would be disappointed to know that Oikawa Tohru didn't last very long in bed.

"You wanna cum, pretty boy?"

A wince at your rough, loaded kiss. His grip was iron, his strength speaking enough for how mute you got him.

It was so quiet, so pitiful: "Pl-ease,"

God, he looked so cute all fucked-out. He only looked at you like that. Like he never wanted you to leave, like he couldn't breathe without you around him, like you weren't just friends with benefits.

Too bad you were just some freaky nerd-fetish.

He pulled out and you sat, buzzed, on his drained cock, more than satisfied with the sight of cum all over his stomach.

When you pushed up your fallen glasses, his cock twitched accordingly and reminded you of the only reason you existed to him at all.

Kissing, cleaning up, cuddling, all of the winding down was still commonplace between you. He wanted attention, you wanted time to chill before you had to go home. He even made it difficult to get dressed and out the door.

Today, he kept his arms around your waist when you attempted to get up, after 20 minutes of cuddling.

"Pleaaase stay," He whined, unable to hold you as firm as he wanted for fear he would hurt you.

You smiled.

"I need to study more tonight."

"Study here!" He pouted.

Right. Then this would happen all over again- because as soon as he would see a pencil between your teeth, he'd try to replace it with his cock.

"Really study," You pried his fingers off and got dressed.

He watched for a time, but needed to assert himself more in order to feel like he wasn't useless, or forgettable. He joined to get dressed, too, and kept a close eye on your seemingly unbothered expression.

"I'm sorry for cursing at you."

It was so unimportant that you had no idea what he was talking about.

"It's okay," Rolled off your tongue, fast.

Oikawa got twitchy. His sly attempts at dragging out your departure slipped through his fingers like sand.

"Let me help you with that," His unprompted kiss to your forehead, along with his gentle gathering of your things, left you a bit dazed.

You fixed your hair- hesitant to look at him.

"Thank you."

He insisted, like usual, to walk you home. You sighed and posed the same argument, the way you had for the past month. People would notice if you were together in any capacity. Rumors would start.

When he was done packing your books up, he was touchier, and hung over you like a cat rubbing itself all over your ankles as you walked to the door.

You rationalized that it had to be your glasses. It gave him some sort of kick. He barely let you out of his bedroom, let alone his house.

You forgot to ask for a shirt, but... maybe next time?

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines.

[zerocoded]

summary: headcannons of what caleb is like in bed.

authors note: help me i need him chronically. this is my opinion babes! i can't shut my brain off when it comes to him anymore. waiting for the 22nd to come is like waiting for my husband get back from war. everything here is what i read about his character so far, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: nsfw content • minors dni • SMUT • talks about size kink, teasing, fingering with his prosthetic bla bla, idk what else. A LOT. • this is basically word vomit, i'm sorry.

word count: 1.2k

caleb might be more conscious of his touch, especially with his bionic arm, carefully adjusting his strength to ensure comfort and gentleness.

i KNOW bro can’t keep his grunts down, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

he wants to consume you entirely, like occupy your every thought and feeling when getting intimate with you.

he’s a sucker for your reactions, so attentive to the point it makes you shy.

ALSO he’s so big—like everything about him is just massive. we know that already, right? sometimes HE forgets.

i just got a feeling that caleb's bed is enormous, like king-size for real, made for someone his size. like BIG BIG. because he's a big boy.

he kind of doesn’t fully grasp how strong he is or how big he is compared to you, like the first time he closed his hands around your throat, he gave you whiplash.

everything in his apartment is set high to accommodate him, and you struggle with it constantly.

his frame completely consumes you, overwhelming but in a way that feels safe.

one time, tara walked in on the two of you mid-moment, she was sleeping on your apartment for some reason and caleb came from the farspace fleet really missing you. she asked caleb where you were, and he just casually said "here," while tara bolted out, flustered beyond belief when she realized what was going on.

you were literally UNDER him and to anyone passing, it looked like he was alone lol.

you two have little banter all the time, thanks to growing up together as childhood friends.

tell me i'm not getting too ahead of time, but i gotta say this. when you’re pregnant, caleb has this habit of saying “shush, i’m talking to the baby” every time he rests his head on your belly.

THAT'S SO CUTE, RIGHT? URGH.

he loves being in control – not in a domineering way, but because he wants to make sure you feel completely taken care of. he’s meticulous, learning what you like and pushing those boundaries just enough to drive you wild.

his size is an obsession for him – he’s hyperaware of how much bigger he is compared to you, and he uses it to his advantage. holding your wrists in one hand, pinning you beneath him, or just the way his body completely overshadows yours—it gets him going every time.

he’s vocal, but only for you – low grunts, whispered praise, and occasionally losing control with a deep growl when you hit just the right spot. but he’s also hyperaware of how you react, loving every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips.

a possessive streak – he doesn’t say it outright, but the way his hands grip your hips or how he marks your skin with kisses is all about claiming you. his touch lingers, even when you’re just walking around afterward.

obsessed with eye contact – he insists you look at him, especially in your most vulnerable moments. “keep your eyes on me,” he murmurs, his gaze locking you in place as if the world outside the two of you doesn’t exist.

an absolute tease – he loves winding you up, taking his time until you’re begging him to stop playing around. slow kisses down your neck, feather-light touches that leave you trembling—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

his hands – they’re huge and rough, but his touch is incredibly gentle when he wants it to be. he loves how your body reacts to the contrast, and he uses it to his full advantage, whether he’s tracing your spine or gripping your thighs.

THE BIONIC ARM? OH MY GAWD.

he really hates the fact that he can't feel you - at all. but his prosthetic can come in handy sometimes 😏

he could use his arm’s advanced capabilities, like adjustable pressure or vibration, to focus on your pleasure, experimenting with new sensations. GUYS I HAD TO SAY IT.

i just know he teases you gliding the cool metal over warm, flushed skin and eliciting shivers of delight.

not him using it like your own personal vibrator. turning on subtle vibrations during a kiss or when he's fingering you.

he LOVES to explore areas like the neck, back, or thighs, using varying pressures to heighten your sensitivity.

aftercare king – he’s all about making sure you feel safe and comfortable afterward.

he’s a little shy about certain things – despite his confidence, there are moments when he feels self-conscious, like when you run your fingers along the scars on his body. but your touch soothes him, and he grows to crave the intimacy of being vulnerable with you. again, his prothetic can become a insecurity of him on these times.

unexpectedly playful – he likes to keep things fun, especially when the mood is light. sneaky touches, biting your ear just to hear you squeak, or pulling you onto his lap when you least expect it.

easily undone by you taking control – as much as he loves being in charge, when you take the lead, he absolutely melts. seeing you confident and assertive makes him lose every ounce of his composure. I JUST KNOW HE LOVES IT.

praise kink on both sides – he loves telling you how good you’re being, how beautiful you are, and how perfect you feel. but he’s also weak for your praise—if you tell him how much you want him or how amazing he’s making you feel, it’s game over.

a sucker for your scent – burying his face in your neck or your hair is his favorite thing. he associates your scent with safety and home, and it’s an instant comfort for him, even when things heat up. i just know he missed you so much while he was gone.

light experimentation – he’s always willing to try new things if it means making you happy. he might be cautious at first, but your enthusiasm has a way of bringing out his adventurous side.

he’s an absolute wreck for soft moments – when you’re tender and loving, gently tracing his features or whispering sweet things, it undoes him completely. he’s all about intensity, but those quiet, intimate moments leave him weak in the knees.

he’s competitive – if you ever tease him or play hard to get, he rises to the challenge, determined to win you over every single time. and when he does, he’ll make sure you know it.

obsessed with your reactions – he watches your every move, cataloging the way your body arches, the sounds you make, and the way your breath catches. nothing escapes his attention, and he uses that knowledge to drive you to the brink.

neck kisses – his favorite spot to tease and mark. he loves the way you shiver when his lips brush over that sensitive spot just below your ear.

secretly loves when you’re a little rough – tugging on his hair, biting his shoulder, or leaving marks on his skin? he thrives on the proof of how much you want him. it’s like a badge of honor for him.

he’s insanely attentive to detail – he remembers everything you like, from the way you gasp when he kisses your collarbone to how your breathing changes when you’re close. he uses that knowledge to make sure you’re always completely satisfied.

i need to write about him loving us ASAP, bye.

author's note: i came up with these while trying to write for caleb's love language (the thrid chapter) and i thought i could use it as a solo post hehe. see you guys next! send me a request • my masterpost

[cherrysolo]

I knew it, I know you.

yall have asked for a longer fic of this request, so here you go <3 instances where the reader comforts lu because of his back pain.

warnings: a wee bit of smut maybe angst too

you had been dating luigi for a couple of years now, you knew him better than anyone else. you knew all of his behaviours, every time he was frustrated and had a pout on his face, or when he would use his hands to talk during arguments. you could read him like a book, which was handy when he didn’t want to communicate. especially after having a rough time with back pain and surgery complications, you wanted to be the best partner you could be.

for instance, you guys were hiking together in hawaii, and halfway through the hike you could tell the mood completely changed. every couple of steps, lu would kind of stretch his back, or even let out a groan. it was obvious he was struggling, “baby is everything okay?” you questioned quietly, not sure how to approach this. “all good,” giving you a shy smile. you could tell he was in pain, but trying to pull through. you guys have been wanting to do this trail for months but never found time, until today. “why don’t we just go home and rest, it’s getting kind of hot out here anyways,” you suggest trying not to pry. you were already breaking a sweat and luigi was shirtless, so maybe this was a good excuse to leave. you wanted to take care of him but not baby him either. “but we made it this far, why give up now?” he snaps back. “yeah, but you’re in pain, let’s go, if we don’t stop now you’ll regret it later,” you snap right back because you want him to take care of himself, and sometimes that includes rest. “I’ll be fine,” you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “fine, let’s go, it won’t change anything though,” he sighs grabbing your hand to walk back to the car. “I know you’re pissed at me lu, but you need to take care of yourself. I worry about you,” pleading with him to understand your side. he squeezes your hand, knowing that he does care what you say. “thank you, baby, I know you care, sometimes I do push myself too much,” he leans over to kiss your forehead. you two end up cuddling on the couch for the rest of the evening, sometimes rest is not a bad thing.

another time is when you two are intimate, it can complicate how a night can play out. communication is everything to you guys when you’re together. sometimes you could tell instantly from the way luigi moves or his face twitches that his back is starting to bother him. you always motion for him to lay back and you take charge. straddling him and grinding your hips onto him. “hmmm why don’t I take care of you lu?” you smirk down to him. lowering yourself onto him, he groans out as if it’s a sense of relief. his hands immediately fall onto your hips, gripping onto you as you bounce up and down. “you’re such a good girl, taking care of me like this,” he’d moan out. attacking your neck with kisses, pleasure taking over the room. as you guys both reach your peak, a sense of gratitude fills luigi’s heart. even though you’re showing love (literally) switching up positions or doing things for lu’s comfort makes his heart swell.

the most common thing is showing small gestures of pda. if it’s small back rubs in public, lingering kisses of comfort, or just simple whispers of “are you okay?”. you’d hug lu from behind, and ask him how his back is feeling, if he needed any ibuprofen, or wanted to go home. you were scared of overbearing him, but your affection and worry made him feel loved. he loved the way you always looked out for him even in simple situations. after a long night out, or a workout that didn’t help, you’d give him a massage or cuddle with him to relax. it was just the little gestures that meant the most. you just wanted him to be happy and healthy, without the worry of his back pain.

[cottonlemonade]

Behind Closed Doors

word count: 1242 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: University AU!Iwaizumi x chubby!Reader

genre: spicy, tad of fluff for cushioning

warnings: mdni

request: Hi! I love your stories!! Could you do lunch, 22 procrastination with iwaizumi please!!! Thank you 😊 || fluffy-spicy, at a party with boyfriend Iwaizumi

Iwaizumi knew better than to question why you pulled him away from the commotion in the common area and dorm hallways to find refuge in his room, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than simply wanting to escape the ruckus of the party. When you had grabbed his hand, you said something about needing his “professional opinion” and with every step, his sinking suspicion that this would not be anything innocent was confirmed. Closing the door behind you, he was gently pushed to sit on the edge of his desk and waited, tense with anticipation. It didn’t seem like you were still mad about earlier, when he may or may not have thrown a bit of a hissy fit about the revealing outfit you chose for the night. All it took from you was a cocked brow for him to immediately regret his possessive outbreak, and he begrudgingly promised to never do it again. You got on your tiptoes to kiss him so… you had forgiven him, right? 

The party beyond the door was in full swing from the sound of it. Music, hoots, and laughter could still be heard, albeit slightly muffled. He swallowed as he admired your plump silhouette in the dark room, the only light coming from the lamp on the other nightstand his roommate once again had forgotten to turn off. The tight little skirt and deep neckline of your top he had commented on a few hours ago were now a godsend when you stepped closer, slotting one of your legs between his. 

“I thought since you are the expert on fashion…”, you began, looking far too sweet to match your actions, “what do you think about this?” 

Soft fingers ran along the collar of your shirt, pulling it a little lower to expose the black lace of your bra. His breathing became shallow. 

“It’s new. I wanna know what you think since you’re so concerned with my wardrobe.”

Your boyfriend held back another apology and instead said in a voice, that still stayed raspy even after clearing his throat, “I might need a closer look first.” 

He leaned forward to set butterfly kisses on your bare skin.

His lips gently brushed over your breasts, your neck, your jaw, before he sweetly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear so he could catch your lobe between his teeth.

The warmth and softness of your body pressed against him, the hot tingles on his lips that never went away since your first ever kiss, and the delicate smell of your perfume made his head spin. He soon felt the familiar pull in his lower abdomen and drew you closer, turning the sweet gentle touches into hungry ones. He craved you now. 

His free hand wandered over your thighs, up to your hips, and down again only to settle on the curve of your ass and when he pressed his lips again to yours he had you smiling into the kiss.

Not long after you slipped your tongue into his open mouth and rolled your hips against him did he start to feel completely drunk. 

You hummed and chuckled when he pushed even closer so he could squeeze as much of you as possible. 

“I need you.”, you whispered through a sigh. You sounded so desperate for him. 

More than anything did he wish he could give you what you wanted, wished he could just lock the door and prove his love until neither of you was able to speak anymore. But the walls were thin, his roommate could return any second and the people outside got increasingly rowdy, so it would not be unlikely for them to mistake his door for theirs.

And so he shook his head, partly to clear his thoughts, clouded heavily by the feeling of your plush thigh, no longer accidentally rubbing against his bulge. 

“If Trashykawa comes back, I’m done for.”, he said half frustrated half apologetic, kissing your collarbone ever so gently.

You frowned, broken from the spell of passion. “He’d tease you about getting laid?”

Iwaizumi shrugged and nodded. “He still gives me shit about that time in the kitchen.”

“We were never caught in the kitchen.”, you said in surprise.

He chuckled, “No, not that. When he caught us making out that one time.”

“He does live a sad existence, doesn't he.”

Your boyfriend shivered a little when your nails tenderly scratched the back of his neck.

“I would be sad, too, if someone else did this to you.”, he murmured, tracing the tip of his tongue just above the lace of your bra.

“Not fair.”, you pouted.

“I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could help you.”

A small protest escaped his lips when you removed yourself from his embrace, leaving him cold and wanting.

Seemingly aimless, you strolled to his bed and let yourself fall into his comfortable sheets. Iwaizumi‘s mouth curled contritely, seeing you stretch so far away from him.

“I really can’t go back out there like this.”, you said quietly, and ran your hand along your body.

He watched in awe as you wiggled out of the little leather skirt and took off the shirt, too, noting with an appreciative grin that your underwear matched. In the next moment, he threw panicked looks at the door. What if someone came in and saw you like this?

Yet, the softest moan brought his attention back to you. He didn’t dare to move or blink, not wanting to miss a thing.

You were lying on your back, one hand between your sinful thighs, teasing yourself.

“Don’t do this to me.”, he begged in a failing voice.

He was sure he stopped breathing altogether when your fingertips slipped into the cups of your bra.

“But it’s so much fun.”, you whispered with a little pant, arching your back, leaning into your own touch as you started to tease your nipples.

As he watched you squirm and gasp, all Iwaizumi could do was try to ignore the roaring in his head and the growing problem in his pants. He should be the one to dip his fingers into you. He should be the one to take off your bra and grab handfuls of your tits and tummy. 

“I’m close…”, you whined, squeezing your legs together and locking eyes with him.

“Cum for me, princess.”, he told you, calmly.

Covering your mouth with one hand to conceal your climax, Iwaizumi watched his gorgeous, daring, evil girlfriend twitch as you came down from your high.

You let out a happy sigh like one might after a refreshing drink and smiled at him through glazed eyes.

“You feeling better now?”, he asked with a smirk.

You gave a small nod.

"You'll be the death of me.", he said defeated, letting his gaze wander over your devilish body, every inch of which he wanted to touch, mark, and worship.

"Come here."

You raised an eyebrow. "What happened to your determination?"

"It watched you play."

You laughed quietly, hiding your face in his pillow with the most adorable giggle, as if you hadn't just driven him to madness.

You got up and took your sweet time returning his sheets to their original state. A gesture he would have considered thoughtful if you wouldn‘t do it in that cursed lace.

Finally, you walk back over, stopping a few inches before him, waiting.

"Could you help me out, pretty girl?"

art: @ikizamade222 on Twitter

a/n: thank you so so much anon for the request and kind words! I’m sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoyed it! 🌟

Also thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for helping me edit! 🫶🏻

[leonastarry]

Hiii!! First of all I want to say, I love your Solo Leveling fics, I binge read so many of them after my 3rd reread of the manhwa. You write Jinwoo so well, I love your writing!

I'd like to request a hurt/comfort angst to fluff fic with Jinwoo, where Jinwoo is so busy leveling up before the S rank gate appears he rarely comes home and reader is away on a raid where she gets attacked by one of the monarchs and Jinwoo is late to arrive so she gets very hurt and he loses his mind. She does recover and they have some cute fluffy moments. Would love to see dark Jinwoo.

Thanks! No pressure at all, take all the time you want to write, XD

[ Req 17 ] Unspoken promises. ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x reader.

The clock on the wall ticked incessantly, filling the stifling silence of the apartment. Jinwoo hadn’t been home in weeks, pouring all his energy into preparing for the S-rank Gate looming on the horizon. He wasn’t avoiding you—at least not intentionally. But the drive to protect everyone had consumed him, and you were left in his absence.

You understood him. How could you not? As an S-rank Hunter, you knew what it meant to shoulder the burden of countless lives. But that didn’t make the loneliness any easier to bear.

So when the call came for an urgent raid, you jumped at the chance. A distraction, something to keep your mind from wandering to the empty space on your bed.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The dungeon was supposed to be normal, something even a mid-ranking guild could handle. But as soon as you entered, you knew something was wrong.

The air was heavy, stifling. The shadows seem alive, moving in ways they shouldn’t. And then you feel it—a presence so overwhelming it makes your blood run cold.

But as the dungeon’s boss room opens, a terrible pressure hits you. It’s suffocating, a presence that stops even the most seasoned hunters in their tracks.

The Frost Monarch and the Plague Monarch stand before you, eyes filled with malicious amusement.

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise,” the Plague Monarch growls, her voice dripping with venom. “These humans think they’re gods.”

You instinctively step forward in front of your squad, raising your weapon. “Get out of here,” you command your comrades, your voice firm despite the fear creeping into your heart.

The Monarch attacks without warning, its malice evident. You fight with all you have, but it is relentless, its power far beyond anything you have faced before.

Your comrades fall one by one, their screams echoing through the cave. And then it turns its attention to you.

Pain erupts as its claws tear you apart, and you fall to the ground, blood pooling beneath you. Gritting your teeth, you summon the last of your strength, but it is not enough.

“Jinwoo…” you whisper, your vision fading.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jinwoo felt it the moment your mana flickered. He had always kept a shadowy part of himself connected to you, a silent assurance that you were safe. But now, that connection was weak—almost nonexistent.

He had been on the other side of the country when it happened, but the Shadow Monarch needed no conventional means of transportation. His soldiers opened a portal, and in a moment, he was in the dungeon.

The sight that befell him made his blood run cold.

The battlefield was littered with corpses, the smell of blood thick in the air. And then he saw you, lying motionless, blood staining the ground.

The monarchs were gone, leaving only a few ruins and some of their minions, proof of their presence.

Jinwoo’s vision blurred with anger. His shadow exploded from the ground, a wave of darkness swallowing everything in its path.

Jinwoo was ruthless, his attacks relentless. He did not stop until his enemies were nothing but ashes.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jinwoo carried you out of the dungeon, his grip gentle despite the anger coursing through him. His shadows formed a protective barrier around you, their loyalty unwavering.

He knew that the Monarchs had left on purpose, their retreat a calculated move to avoid facing him. But their cruelty towards you - the person he held dearest - was unforgivable.

In the days that followed, Jinwoo stayed by your side, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a ferocity that confused even the closest shadows.

When you finally woke up, his relief was palpable.

“Jinwoo…” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I won’t leave you again. Never.”

His shadow moved behind him, a silent testament to his promise.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your recovery was slow, but Jinwoo was there for you every step of the way. He refused to leave your side, his guilt showing through his constant care and concern.

He brought you food, fluffed your pillows, and even carried you when you were well enough to move.

“Jinwoo, I’m not made of glass,” you protested one evening as he tucked you in.

“I don’t want to risk it,” he replied, his expression defiant.

Despite his overprotective demeanor, you couldn’t deny how much you appreciated his efforts.

One night, as you lay in bed, Jinwoo sat beside you, his hand intertwined with yours.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?” he asked, his eyes softening.

“For being here,” you said. “For caring.”

He leaned down, kissing her forehead gently. “Always,” he whispered.

In that moment, all the pain and fear seemed to melt away, replaced by the warmth of his love.

Hope you like it 💗

[judesmoonbeauty]

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟞 - ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕊𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Both chapters 6 & 7 discuss snippets of Jude's past records. If you'd like to read the event in full, then please check out my collab translation here.

It’s a member-based club where upper-class woman gather every night.

When I went undercover, I found out it was nothing more than social club where “Gentlemen” waited upon women.

In order to obtain the title deed to some land, I played an absurd game, but the game ended at the last minute…..

Kate: Haa, Haa…..Wh-what about Ellis?

Jude: Don’t worry, he’ll make it out easy.

I ran out of the mansion with Kate, breathing heavily as I stood next to her in a nearby garden.

(Whatta farce. How pointless.)

Kate: But is that all right, you missed your chance to claim the land deed...

Jude: Pretty sure that noble lady’s in the habit of cheatin’ ‘n other things.

“You’re fooling around with young men again!”

By the comment made by the husband who had burst in, it’s clear that woman is a repeat adulteress.

Jude: Got loads t’shake her down with, I’ll just take it later on.

Kate: I see. What can I say, that’s cunning of you….Heh, hehe….

Jude: Ha, what? Yer laughin’ outta the blue’s creepin’ me out.

Kate: I mean, I never expected my first Crown mission in a while to end like this.

Kate: Plus….Pff…..Jude your fake personality’s something you’d see in a dream!

My eyes were drawn to Kate as her shoulders shook and she contained her laughter with the back of her hand.

(That’s the first time seein’ such defenseless laugh.)

When I picture the expressions of the woman called Kate, an angry face or a confused face comes to mind…..

(Yeah. There hasn’t been a situation where I’ve seen this girl laugh since we met.)

(……Regardless.)

Jude: Huh…..so ya can laugh like that?

Kate blinked several times and looked away bashfully.

Kate: That’s because you’re usually saying things that make me angry, Jude.

Jude: ‘Cause ya ain’t a bit hateful it’s cute.

Kate: C-Cute….?

Kate’s cheek turn a pale crimson, like they had caught fire.

(The hell’s that innocent reaction?)

Jude: Ha, so foolish. Yer a damned fool if yer pleased with that rubbish.

Kate is a woman who’s terrible at giving up, stubborn, and lives by following her heart.

(That’s why)

You’ve stepped too far into darkness.

Jude: Ya got flowers for brains, so time to stop goin’ to places like that.

Jude: You’ll end up losin’ everythin’, lookin’ all kinds of pitiful ‘n humiliated.

Kate: Thanks for the advice, but don’t worry, I won’t be going back!

(Oh, really?)

Kate said self-satisfied, then tilted her head asking herself a question.

Kate: Anyway, the club turned up clean, so Crown doesn’t need to condemn it, right?

Jude: Yeah it’ll be left alone, whether that stupid place’s ‘round or not, it ain’t for better or worse.

It’s rare for a mission to end in such carefree manner.

(This world’s overflowin’ with revoltin’ things…..)

[Flashback]

Jude: ….Argghh, why’s this happenin’ to me?

Jude: I…..hate this, I….resent this, This is….pathetic.

Jude: Even if I regret it….it’s too late.

Jude: Haha…….really….

Jude: …..It’s funny how miserable I am….

[Flashback ends]

Jude: ‘Sides….it’s better than buyin’ ’n playin’ with women for their bodies, innit?

Although the words I grumbled probably didn’t reach Kate.

I changed the subject before my shitty past that I don’t even want to remember is touched.

Jude: Oh, forgot to ask ya somethin’ important.

Kate: Something important? What is it?

Jude: Which one was the lady gonna choose in the end?

Kate: That’s….

I don’t care about this girl’s feelings or anything.

“Gentleman” - It’s just losing to a weak man who’s kept by a woman is nauseating.

That’s all it is.

(…..Ha, what’s that look?)

Kate’s eyes darted around like an idiot.

The look on her face told me exactly who she was going to choose.

(Ya shouldn’t be in a place like this after all.)

The darkness is unsuitable for a woman who can’t even conceal her emotions.

Jude: Woman’s so easy t’read it ain’t even funny.

Kate: I haven’t told you the answer yet!

Jude: Yeah, yeah, foolish ‘n cuuute. I’m goin’ home.

As I started walking, the pitter-patter of Kate’s footsteps trailed behind me.

The “fairytale keeper’s” unjust contract was to be for one month.

(…..Get out of this darkness quick, princess.)

(And then forget all ‘bout it.)

Although, I feel like it would be boring,

If I no longer hear the sound of desperate footsteps chasing me.

[Main Story Master List] [Chapter 7]

T/L: "That's all it is." Sure it is bruh. She's already infected you.

Dividers: @.natimiles

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne

If you wish to be added (+18 YO), or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

[first-edition]

Wishes

Spencer reid x reader

(Not proof read my bad)

Soencer is turning 30 and you are the only one who remeberd

Confession kissing Spencer crying fluff

(Hes a blurb while i get back into writing sorry I disappeared lol)

You’ve been planning this for 2 weeks getting the decorations and presents and setting up his schedule so he’s be free. You’ve been talking to Emily about it but somehow it got lost in all the work and she’s forgotten you’ve tried to do the same with the others but they forgot as well.

“Hey! Spence.” You call to him. He spins around in his chair to face you.

“Hmm?” He asks

“What are you doing tonight?” You ask.

“I was gonna go see my mom but that got cancelled hospital difficulties so I was gonna go to the library of olden books.” He says giving you a small smile.

“Oh I’m well did you wanna come over maybe I could go with you?” You ask.

“Yeah sure that’s be great I can talk about the making and weaving of how hard covers and soft covers were made.” He chuckles

“Yeah!” You smile and nod walking off passed Morgan’s desk. As he eyes you in confusion.

———

The entire rest of your evening is filled with the large library soencer taking your hand and leading you to each book talking about how they were made and crafted and the kind of paper they used.

You actually found it quite interesting it helped that you had been crushing on him for the past 2 years and him as wel to you.

He bought a few books for an obscene price before you faked the realization that you had to rush home and since he drove you both hurried into his car and drove to your place.

“It’s fine Spencer I can just grab it and we can continue to another library before it’s too late out.” You smile as you open your door all the lights off not helping with the time of night as your home seems to be a menaching place to be.

“Light switch to you left.” You say as you disappear into the darkness. He closes the door behind him and turns on the light. The sight of balloons and presents with a mini banner that says happy birthday strung across the ceiling.

“Happy birthday spencer!” You exclaim holding out your arms. His expression drops as he looks around at all the things for him. You rush to the fridge to take out the cake you had made of his favorite flavor.

“I also got a cake. And custom ordered the flavor as well as the decor. The presents are all for you and I-“ you stop as you look at him setting the cake down. Tears fall down his cheeks and his bottom lip quivers.

“S-Spencer…oh I-I’m sorry I know you like cupcakes more but they didn’t have any and I just through may if you wanted you could eat it by your self if yo-“ with out saying anything else he cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a deep kiss which you kiss back.

It lasts for a few seconds before pulling away.

“Thank you..thank you so much you have no idea how much this- how much you mean to me and not just for doing this.” He says his voice breaking you wrap your arms around his neck kissing him again before pulling away to speak.

“You’re welcome I wouldn’t miss your birthday.” You say a smile on your face.

The rest of the night is spent with him opening every present he could’ve ever wanted eating cake and watching a movie before you’d both fallen asleep on the couch.

A few months would go by before the case in Vegas where he and Emily would be talking and she’d ask him how old he was.

“Common it can’t be that far how old are you 29.” She says rolling her eyes before Spencer has time to correct her.

“I’m thirty.” He says her expression changes in shock as she realizes.

“We missed your birthday?”

“No..not everyone. Y/n remeberd planned a whole thing.” He says smiling looking over at his girlfriend who talks with jj.

“Fuck….i forgot she wanted me to come over for that. I’m so sorry.” She apologizes Spencer shakes his head adjusting his glasses.

“It’s okay.”

“Hey! There’s a spot new place down past Luxor if you’re hungry.” You skip up to him holding onto his arm.

“Actually I made a reservation as Caesars palace for us.” He says.

“W-what!? Why.” You smile looking up at him. He leans down to you ear whispering to you.

“Happy birthday.” He says this time it’s his turn to remember your birthday.

[teeth-farie]

Restroom Rendezvous

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)/Reader

…: I’m back from the dead! I can’t guarantee that I’ll post often, but I at least wanted to share something I wrote. Deadpool has been my hyperfixation since I saw DP&W last summer, so this is set right after that. Thanks for reading!

~~

Wade totally wasn’t caught up on Vanessa’s rejection, not at all. Things don’t work out sometimes, and that was fine, really, it was. She let him down easy, he was thankful for that, at the very least. People change. She had and so had he. They simply weren’t what each other needed anymore. 

It hit him bitterly, that he can admit. He spent many long nights drowning his sorrows in ice cream cartons and reruns of the great British bake off, and a couple nights actually drowning himself in the bathtub. It was a rough period, but life goes on. 

He’s since come to terms that romance just isn’t in the cards for him, not when most people ended up nauseous after a first impression. However, that wouldn’t stop him from living vicariously through Logan’s love life. 

He’d put up a good fight so far, but Wade would be damned if he let all that go to waste because The Wolverine doesn’t know how to flirt with this universe's population. Seriously, he’s never seen someone be so politically incorrect and over correct in his life. 

It all leads them to a seedy little bar, but one with enough charm to know you probably won’t be getting an std. Probably.

He has to tug Logan away from the bar and to the pool table before he can get too shitfaced, sighing in exasperation. 

“It’s like you don’t even want to find anyone.”

“You said I’d be getting laid, not that I’d fall in love.”

“Oh, but don’t you just love the trope of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers?”

Logan snorts a puff of air from his nose as he grabs a pool stick and rubs the little thing of blue chalk on the end of it.  

Wade turns to scope the bar population, leaning up against the edge of the pool table as Logan lined up pole tip to white ball, cradled by his fingers. 

“At first I was like, ‘let him have some time, he’s new to this universe’, but now I’m like, ‘fuck it, he’s had enough time!’,” Wade begins, the sounds of pool balls clacking making him roll his eyes. 

“See, that’s exactly it! I took you here to mingle and now you’re huddled away playing fucking pool. Alone. You aren’t even playing with anyone.”

Clack. Roll. 

“I didn’t even think you could play pool alone, it seems like a very obvious two player game, but you do know best,” 

Clack. Thunk!

“OW!!” Wade turns dramatically, hand on his ass to face the other man with a look of betrayal. 

“Did you just hit my ass with a pool ball?”

“Shouldn’t be sittin’ on the table there then, bub.”

Wade frowns and Logan chuckles to himself, jaw flexing with his hidden grin. 

“You’re gonna make me do the work for you, huh? You big baby. You big 5’3 baby.”

SNIKT!

“YEESH, don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m leavin!”

There’s that saying of ‘there’s always more fish in the sea’, but the fish out here look a little too dead eyed for his tastes. Well, Logie’s tastes. 

Just when he’s about to call it quits, he spots you (Duh, you know what you came here for). 

There’s nothing outright that he can pinpoint that draws him to you. Maybe it’s the way you dress, or the way you hold yourself, but something about you makes him feel just about as giddy as a kid in a candy shop. Part of him wonders if maybe he could snatch you for himself. 

Checking his breath in a cupped hand, he winces and shrugs. It’s not like the rest of him was all that better. 

Wade leans up against the bar next to you, dark hoodie shadowing his mottled face under the overhead lights. His smile still gleams, crooked lower teeth and blistered gums. 

“You’ve been looking over at me and my friend a lot, I noticed it.”

“Ah, guilty as charged.” You respond, a split smile, beer on your breath. “I’m sorry though, if it made you uncomfortable.”

“No! No no, the opposite, actually,” he sits down on the barstool, leaning on his elbows against the sticky countertop. “See, my friend over there,” he points over his shoulder, voice suddenly low and conspirative.

 You follow the point of his thumb to his friend, thick and burly, bent over the edge of the pool table to line up another shot. Truly a magnificent specimen, but your eyes don’t seem to be on that prize. 

“I’ve been trying to set him up for ages now, and between you and me, he thinks you’re real cute.”

“He does, does he?” 

“Oh yeah, super cute. He might seem like an asshole, but he’s a real softie at the center, all gooey and shit.”

“Mhm,”

“Ok, ok, I see I’m losing you a bit- but what’s the harm? Come on over, just don’t say I brought you over here.”

You sigh, resting your cheek on your palm, and he can’t help but feel a little scrutinized under your gaze. 

“You know, it wasn’t him I was staring at.”

“I…oh, pfft, yeah, this whole thing,” he gestures to his face, scarred and tumored flesh pulled taut and tender. “Wanted a ticket to the freak show?”

“No, not like that,” you say quickly, a little hot in embarrassment. “I meant, I think you’re…cute.”

Wade almost balks at you, silent before scoffing. “Cute? Pardon my French, but are you fucking blind?”

You laugh, and you’re a little worried that you probably shouldn't have. “Listen…”

“Wilson. Wade Wilson. Did that sound cool?”

“Wade,” you say, and the way you say it makes him feel all tingly at the base of his spine. “You seem like you really love your friend.”

“Totally! We’re BFF’s, best friends forever, we’ve got the matching necklaces, too.” He tugs on the thin chain dangled around his neck, a half heart charm jingling underneath his hoodie. 

You’re resting your hand on his thigh, a deliberate movement that makes his fingers twitch a little, necklace falling back under his shirt. You lick your lips a little, and he’s back under your spell.

“Wouldn’t your friend want you to…have a little fun?”

His mouth falls open to say something, then closes, then opens again. “F..fun? I like fun, what kinda fun are we talking about?”

Your head leans back with a laugh at his flustering, hand squeezing his thigh just a little tighter. He shifts in his seat and you notice it, of course you do. 

“The kind of fun where you follow me into the bathrooms and I,” you stop, fingers inching up just a little bit higher on his thigh, just shy of bumping this fic rating from mature up to explicit. “Well,” you sigh out, and move your hand away entirely. “I wouldn’t want to give it away, not when you can come see for yourself.”

“Yes,” he strains, leaning up in his seat like he was ready to jump you right then and there. “I want that, I wanna have some fun with you—if, if you still want it?”

“Honey, I’ve been groping you for the last minute, of course I still want to.”

“Right! Right, right, right,”

“Leave a bit of distance, don’t make it so obvious,” you say to him, getting up from your seat and nodding towards the bathrooms with a wink before you leave. 

Wade’s heart pounds in his ears almost louder than the bar's music. Surprisingly jazzy, they probably came on a themed night. In ways, he thinks his heart might be singing too. 

He looks over to Logan, finding him still at that damn table. At least this time it looks like someone’s joined him, or he hopes so. He really wants to be following you right now. 

Then, with a skittish bit of flair, Wade slinks away into the crowd. 

—

Wade’s tarnished skin feels impossibly hot when your mouth makes contact, lips and tongue over the length of his jugular. His hands wander, catching on your clothing, rumpling the fabric under his grip. Yeah, this fic is getting rated explicit. 

“This is fucked,” he huffs, head lolling back against the bathroom stall. You make a questioning sound against his neck and his whole body shivers. “S’posed to be hooking you up with Lo’, not…not…” you’ve found the tender little spot below his ear as he speaks, blunt teeth pressing firm and he hates how reactive he is to it. 

“God, you’re not playing fair, this isn’t fair,” he wheedles, tugging on your clothes. 

You laugh and wiggle your leg between his, hip pressing against his groin, and you’re pleased to find him half chubbed already. “If I were fair, I’d be talking to your friend right now instead of kissing a cutie in the bathroom.”

“I’m- am I the cutie?”

“Yes, you’re the cutie.”

You’re mouthing lower and Wade is sure his heart is going to burst from his chest Alien style. Your teeth catch on the chain of his necklace, a touch of your tongue against his skin and you tug, breathing out a laugh when he whimpers. 

“That shouldn’t have been so hot,”

“But aren’t you glad it was?” 

You’re only stopped by the neckline of his hoodie, lavishing your mouth over the exposed skin of his throat. He’s breathing heavy, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath your teeth. 

He’d never thought anyone would want to be close to his cancer riddled skin, let alone kiss. The scabbing and sores of his skin don’t bother you, you devour him all the same. 

Just as he thinks it can’t get any better, he feels your fingers tug on the waistband of his jeans. 

“Is this ok?” You’re asking, all soft and hushed, like you haven’t unraveled him at the very seams. 

“Uh,” he stammers like an idiot, flushed red and sweating. “Yes, yes, it’s ok, it’s more than ok, actually! I’d really uh, it’d be totally cool, totally consensual—“

You cut him off with a kiss, fumbling with his buttons and pulling down the zipper with a huff puffed from your nose. 

His pants shuck down easily enough, caught around his thighs while your hand finds his erection. The first touch is like bliss, your fingers wrapping around his mottled cock and tugging, toying with the foreskin around the tender head. 

You make a pleased sound, reverberating into his mouth as you give him a testing squeeze, his hips canting forward. 

It feels better than he anticipated, much better, though he supposes it’s due to only having his right (and left) hand for a while. 

“No undies, huh?” You’re laughing, a sickly sweet sound that makes his knees feel weak. “And here I thought you were just trying to set your friend up. Were you hoping for this all along?”

He shakes his head, though it’s more like a frantic twitch. “Huuh, nuh-uh,” 

“No? I think you did,” his cock weeps enough to make the slide of your fist easy, the soft palm of your hand so much better than his own blistered one. “I think you were hoping I’d pick you, that I’d come kiss you all better, make you feel good.”

“Please,” is all he can muster, nosing against your head with a pitiful sound. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you croon, letting go of his cock to put your cupped palm below his chin, expectant. “Come on, get it wet for me, Wade.”

It’s all but purred, the way you say it. Like butter and cotton candy had a baby and it was your voice. And he’s obeying, gathering the saliva in his mouth and spitting it into your palm, flushed red hot and wanting. 

“Good boy,” you whisper and he thinks he’s in love. 

Your wet hand is grabbing his cock again, slick and dripping. 

“Tell me what you like, cutie.”

“Tighter? Oof- not that tight, j-just kinda- ohhh,”

His body feels like it’s blooming, warmth flooding into his nerves different from the anxious, hormonal flush of his blood. He sucks his lip in between his teeth, eyes rolling when the web of your finger and thumb catch on the head.  

“Now that’s a pretty expression,” up and down, up and down, wet and messy. “I think it’s cool, how your dick is like the rest of you. Nice on the hands…” you thumb over the uneven skin, thumb pressing against the more tender and raw flesh, pulsing with his heartbeat. 

“Oh, ha..haha, r-ribbed for your pleasure, amiright?”

“Oh, Wade…” your tongue slides across the shell of his ear, saccharine voice a heady whisper. “I’m not the one that’s gonna be bent over.” 

“Oh my god,” he wheezes, hands shooting up to cover his face in near comedic embarrassment. 

You laugh in his ear and it sounds utterly mocking, your voice trailing off into a sigh of a moan (which isn’t helping him in the slightest- or it is, and that’s why he’s suffering).

“God, you’re wet, I don’t think I even needed you to spit at all.” You thumb over the head, a back and forth rub that gets your fingertips sticky with his pre. “Look at that, like a fucking garden hose.”

Wade huffs loudly through his hands, spreading his fingers to peek out, pupils dilated under the milky sheen of his eyes. “Don’t stop,” it comes out strained and weak when he says it. “K-keep talking, I need- I-I—“ 

His hips jerk in aborted thrusts, biting on his own tongue when his teeth clench. He whimpers, and you kiss him better, tongue against tongue. 

“Close,” he still tries to whimper anyway, his balls drawing up to his body in anticipation, the building of his orgasm festering in his gut. 

“Close? Alright, alright,” you start to shuffle him forward and he makes an indignant sound when he’s pulled away from your mouth. “Aw, don’t look at me like that, I’m just trying to avoid getting a stain on my clothes.”

You position him over the toilet and he grabs at the tank of it, your hand wrapping around him from behind and pointing his cock down to the bowl. It’s not the first time he's jerked off over a toilet, but this time is definitely more enjoyable. 

“There you go,” he can hear the smile in your voice, feel your hands wrapped tight around him. It makes him feel kinda jelly inside, soft and jiggly and vulnerable. 

He finds himself holding onto the hand on his stomach, your other making quick work of his erection, pumping quickly to push him right back to the edge again. 

“C-can you,” he swallows, tries to catch his bearings. 

“Can I what, sweetheart?” 

It only makes him whine, a gutteral noise from the back of his throat. “Say I’m good,”

“Ha, you want to be a good boy? Want me to call you that?”

“Please,” really, it’s all he wants. At least in the moment. Or maybe after too, think about the way he made you happy and apply that to himself so he doesn’t seem like that much of a fuck up anymore. 

You don’t notice his inner quarrels, of course you don’t, but you still squeeze his hand back, dig your thumb into just the right spots with your other to make him push back against you. It’s enough to tip him over from the edge where he teetered, down into the fallen abyss or whatever poetic shit his mind could conjure. 

You keep his cock aimed and he spills into the toilet, shuddering with the force of it. It’s the deep rooted kind of orgasm, the kind that makes your eyes roll and bones go gelatinous. Yeah, that kind. It’s honestly the best orgasm he’s had in months, he thinks he could actually cry. 

No, scratch that, it’s not hot to cry after sex, even if it’s a bathroom handy. 

He feels your hand move up and down against his stomach, petting him, such a soft action that he does sniffle a little. 

“Good boy,” you say to him, tender, kind. 

Oh boy, here comes the waterworks. 

—

Wade would have been an idiot not to have grabbed your number after that night. Actually, it’s more like you grabbed his phone and put your number in yourself, which made him fall just ever a little bit more in love. 

It’s scary, he thinks, to try again after so much heartbreak. Vanessa would always be his friend, even if at one point, he had still wished it to be more. Actually, he thinks she might be proud of him for making another new friend, and that thought does make him feel warm inside. 

He meets you today at a cute little coffee shop for a technical first date after the restroom rendezvous (which he’s still surprised got no knocks on the door, thanks author).

It’s cliche, sickeningly so, but it’s so healing to his mangled up little heart that he’s damn well bringing a bouquet with him, too.

He knows it’s your favorite spot, not because you told him, but because he did some light stalking on his own. Hey, there’s nothing wrong with doing a little research! He had to make sure you weren’t an ax murderer or something (which would have just been another score in his book). 

He watches you from the window of the shop for a minute, a certain type of nervousness gnawing in his chest, more so than he felt with you before. Maybe it’s because this time it’s more than just a mindless fling. Maybe he just really likes you. 

You catch him when you look up from your phone, giving him a wave through the window and he gathers himself up once more, and pushes open the door. 

[thethreefaes]

“Me? No.. no I’m okay, Hiccup.” Lyra finished picking up the ingredients and capped the vials.

By the stars, Kiara felt tired. No longer warm and her arm didn’t throb. She remained sitting up and drinking the odd antidote. To think, cold iron able to absorb into the blood. How twisted did a human have to be to think of this? And… how had he tested it? Kiara looked to her sister.

Lyra sat on the floor beside the bed. Her back resting against the wall and faced them. She looked up at her friend with a weak but grateful smile.

“Thank you. Gortaigh’s powder… even if Kiara had come to me I would have needed your help.” Lyra rubbed at her face with her stained fingers. She wrinkled her nose at the copper smell.

“I can’t believe she let you stitch her.” Lyra gave Kiara an amused look and the older fae felt herself relax. There was her flower.

“Look. I’m stubborn, not stupid.” Kiara shot back.

“Debatable. You… you what? Went to fight the hunters? Gortaigh? No back up. You couldn’t just… let the past be?” Lyra shuddered and curled in on herself.

“They hurt you. No one hurts my own and gets away with it!” Kiara coughed as her voice raised. Leaning back she settled. “I had to be sure those hunters were far from here. And take care of the one who sent them after you.” Lyra kept her eyes down cast. She couldn’t look at her sister. Couldn’t look at Hiccup. How much did they know? What had Kia read and did she tell Hiccup?

“You… destroyed the books? They’re all gone?” Her voice was quiet. Fearful.

“Tá. I read one and it set me in a rage. I made sure they all burned with him. No one else will learn from those.” But had others learned? Did he share that knowledge with anyone else? Lyra prayed not.

The tests. The experiments. The pain. When she escaped she never thought his work would find her… well. She supposed her sister found it. Lyra felt her heart racing. Panic was trying to grip her throat as she breathed.

“Hiccup!” Lyra ran up to the chief, an excited grin on her face.

“Are you busy? I have something to show you!” She took his hand and pulled him towards Altair and Toothless.

“You know how last month the lightning strike caused the large forest fire?” Stopping in front of the dragons the fae all but buzzing in excitement. If her wings were visible they’d be fluttering.

“I did a thing!” She couldn’t wait to show him.

[warping-realities]

2k Special - Coach Knows Best: Tight Ends

So we’ve come to the end of the 2k special. I’d like to thank again @johnbrand and @mrrharper for letting me borrow one of their ideas, but especially the great @callmecallmecrazy who I’ve been following for almost 20 years (I was underage and shouldn’t have been, but still). The Jocking has been and still is one of the most impressive things ever written in our niche; it’s not just about transformation, there’s a plot, character development and a cohesive story, and it’s something I’ve always tried to follow while writing my own work. Here, I made a little homage to his seminal work and to Clifton Jocks, which I’ll say for the thousandth time is my favorite story of all time and an impressive demonstration of developing writing skills.

Lastly, there’s a pun (or more) in the title of this story. 🙃

Just two days before the final game of the season, Steele sat in the stillness of his home, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a heavy fog. The transformation of Tyler had been a double-edged sword. On one hand, he had become the player Steele always knew he could be. On the other, the pressure of the BACS protocol loomed ominously over everything. As he contemplated for the millionth time how to navigate the challenges ahead, his phone buzzed violently against the wooden surface of the table in front of him shattering the quiet.

Startled, he reached for his phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was Jenkins. The feeling of unease settled deeper in his gut as he answered. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with tension.

“Steele, we’ve got a situation,” Jenkins said, his tone serious. “Lee Dawson has gone missing from his dorm at college. He was supposed to hit up a study group and now no one’s seen him.”

Steele’s heart raced. “What do you mean missing? How long has it been since anyone last saw him?”

“Just a few hours, but it’s enough to raise alarms. From what I gathered from my guys on the team, he’d been complaining about his brother’s behavior for days, saying Tyler was acting weird. At my request, they pressed Lee for any major signs that a glitch was popping up in the BACS protocol, but whenever pressed, he backed down. There was nothing to suggest any major failure or need for intervention so far.

“I told you Lee is smart and you know why BACS has fallen out of favor, and yet you insisted. What the hell do you expect me to do now to clean up your mess?”

“What I want is for you to keep an eye out. It seems like Lee is gonna go searching for his brother or even come to you. In that case, you need to find out what’s going on. This could have serious implications,” Jenkins urged, his voice quickening.

“Implications? What the hell are you talking about?” Steele shot back, a sense of dread creeping into his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to be linked to the board’s experiments or Tyler’s recent transformation if shit hit the fan.

“Let’s be real, Steele. If the government finds out what we did with BACS, we could all be in deep trouble. You need to act fast. In the worst-case scenario, you’re authorized to use BACS on the older Dawson.” Jenkins warned, urgency unmistakable in his voice.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m on it, but I warned you, Jenkins, you idiot!” Steele replied, his mind racing. He couldn’t let this situation spiral out of control. As he hung up the phone, he felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He had to find and protect Lee, and somehow make him understand the whole program before the kid, who was Steele’s greatest pride, ended up consumed by it like his brother had.

Steele woke up before dawn, the clock reading 4 AM. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, battling the heavy feeling that seemed to have settled in his mind. The morning darkness enveloped the room as his thoughts churned about Lee and Tyler. It was a constant struggle between the determination to keep his legacy as a coach intact and the guilt that consumed him.

He got up and started his morning routine. The first task was to run. He laced up his running shoes, threw on a simple T-shirt, and headed out, feeling the cold morning air against his face. Each step took him further away from his worries, and he tried to keep a steady pace. Running had always been his way to release built-up tension, but today felt harder. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tyler’s situation and what he could have done differently.

After 30 minutes of running, Steele finished his routine with calisthenics. Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups; all done in silence, but his mind was far from what he was doing. He felt like a robot, following a routine without really being present. The joy he used to feel while working out was missing, replaced by a sense of emptiness.

With sweat dripping down his face, he returned home and made breakfast. He brewed a strong cup of black coffee, letting the dark liquid fill the mug. Coffee, once a comforting ritual, now tasted bland, as if bitterness had seeped into his life. He served himself an absurd amount of food: eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit. But even while eating, he couldn’t savor the meal. Each bite felt like an obligation, a meaningless ritual.

After breakfast, he shaved, staring at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the deep circles under his eyes. “What the hell happened to me?” he thought, doubt creeping into his mind. He had been a passionate coach, someone who inspired his players to become the best versions of themselves. Now, he found himself trapped in a cycle of manipulation and politics that was corroding his soul.

After getting ready, Steele finally left for school, his car cutting through the quiet morning. But upon arriving at the school parking lot, he hesitated. He stopped the car and sat there, watching the students arrive, the laughter and chatter floating in the air. He felt like a spectator in his own world.

“How did I end up here?” he murmured to himself. He remembered when everything seemed so simple, when his love for football was pure and genuine. He had a dream: to turn young athletes into champions, to guide them through hardships, and help them shine. But over time, he became obsessed with winning, accepting the machinations of the board, believing it was all worth it. He convinced himself he was offering insignificant kids the chance to experience the same glories he had. But now, after what happened with Tyler, those certainties were crumbling. The kid had been the kind of athlete who, with the right encouragement and training, could have been for the Tight Ends what Brock Purdy was for quarterbacks: a last pick with seemingly no shine but whose effort and skill landed him a spot on one of the big league teams. Now? Sure, the kid was great, almost perfect. No doubt he’d shine, but it’d be an artificial shine, risking being marked more by a influencer life than what he did on the field, more like a Garoppolo than a Purdy. And then there was Lee, the incredible Lee, Steele’s greatest victory, shaped just right, now at risk of going through the same shit as his brother. Thinking about that made Steele’s gut churn, and a new determination surged within him. He could lose everything, but he was going to make sure Lee wouldn’t get caught up in this, even if it meant making some subtle tweaks, a little memory alteration… maybe something to boost his stats before the Combine… Then, without realizing the hypocrisy and contradiction in his own way of thinking, the coach let out a long sigh and headed off to start the day’s work.

…..

The locker room was in a state of controlled chaos. The boys on the team were undressing and getting ready to put on their practice uniforms. The distinct smell of deodorant mixed with male sweat hung in the air, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and teasing.

“Look who’s here! The king of farts!” Trey shouted, letting out a loud fart. The room erupted in laughter, and the boys started mimicking fart sounds.

“For God’s sake, dude! You need a deodorant for your ass!” Connor teased, making everyone laugh even harder.

Rafael, always ready to stand out, raised his hands as if he was about to make a speech. “Attention, attention! The champion of burps is here!” He then let out a burp so loud it echoed through the locker room, causing another wave of laughter.

“You and your special talents, Rafe. One day you’re gonna win an award for that!” Miguel joked, while getting dressed. “Most retarded award!”

The boys continued to talk nonsense, sharing stories about weekend parties, the girls they had hooked up with, and the drunken escapades they had. The vibe was carefree, a celebration of the brotherhood that existed among them, but also tinged with machismo and arrogance.

“Dude, did you see the new cheerleader? The transfer girl, blonde with blue eyes?” Miguel commented, winking at the others. “She was totally checking me out during practice. Bet she’s in love with me!”

“Probably out of pity for your malnourished state!” Adam replied, laughing. “But it’s true, she’s hot. I’d hit that too.”

“Malnourished? I’m ripped, you fatass!”

“That’s just jealousy of my muscles, scrawny boy?”

“Jealousy is what you have of my abs, fatty!”

As the chatter continued, Tyler, sitting a bit further away, looked at Brock with a frustrated expression while tying his cleats. “Man, my brother’s been an ass lately. Lee’s always been a bit too uptight, but lately, he’s just straight-up unbearable,” Tyler said, trying to keep his tone light, but irritation was evident.

“Like, he keeps nagging me about my grades, and I can’t deal with it anymore. I stopped replying to his texts. I’ve told him Cs get degrees,” he vented, his voice dropping lower, almost lost in the locker room noise.

“Well, the problem is you hardly ever get Cs, do you?”

“As if you’re any better, you dumbass. You know Coach is gonna sort this out and we’re all gonna get into college with football scholarships. But for Lee, that’s not enough; it’s like he wanted another brother instead of me.”

Brock looked at Tyler, sensing his frustration. “Dude, I get it. It’s tough when you have a brother who seems to be trying to control you. But at the same time, he just wants what’s best for you, right? Maybe he’s just worrying too much.”

“Maybe… but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s being a total pain. He doesn’t know how to have fun. It’s like he thinks life is only about training and studying,” Tyler replied, shaking his head, visibly irritated.

“Man, you need to put him in his place then. One day, he’s gonna realize life isn’t just about work. You gotta enjoy the journey too, just like we do here on the team!” Brock said, trying to encourage Tyler to feel better about the situation.

“Whatever, maybe I should try talking to him again, but just thinking about it makes me tired,” Tyler mumbled, crossing his arms.

What the boys didn’t realize was that Coach Steele had entered the locker room just as the conversation was heating up.

“Is that what I heard, Tyler?” Steele asked, his gaze fixed on the young man. “You’ve been ignoring your brother?”

Tyler hesitated before answering. “Uh… I’m just tired of hearing the same old shit, coach. He just wants me to fit into the image he has of me. I just wanted some space,” he said, trying to justify his behavior.

Steele shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Look, Tyler, you might not like what Lee has to say, but he’s your brother. What he wants is what any brother wants: the best for you. Ignoring his texts isn’t the solution. You might not realize it, but he cares about you,” Steele said, his voice firm.

“Yeah, I know. I just… I just need some space, that’s all,” Tyler muttered, a bit frustrated.

“I get that you need space, but that doesn’t mean you should push him away. Promise me one thing, if he tries to reach out again, don’t ignore him, but more importantly, I want you to tell me right away,” Steele said, with a serious look. “Now, let’s go, finish getting ready. It’s almost time for practice.”

The boys nodded, and the conversation quickly dissipated as they hurried to get ready. When everyone was ready, they headed out to the field. The sun was shining brightly, and the energy of the team was palpable. Steele watched as the players lined up, each carrying a confidence that was contagious. He felt a little lighter, even knowing the precarious situation he was in.

“Today’s the last practice before the finals,” Steele began, capturing everyone’s attention. “That means we need to give it everything we’ve got. Remember, the opposing team is gonna come onto the field wanting to take us down. But they’re gonna face the Titans, and we’re gonna show them what that means!”

The players shouted in response, adrenaline coursing through their veins. The practice began and Steele moved around the field, watching every move, every play. The boys were in sync, their skills at their peak and their energies channeled toward a common goal. Steele watched it all with a satisfied smile. The hard work and dedication were paying off. He remembered his own experiences and what it meant to form a cohesive team. “Great job, boys!” he shouted, as the players regrouped in the locker room after practice. “You’re ready to face the Knights! What we saw today was magnificent. Each of you gave your best. Remember, tomorrow is the big day. You have a chance to show everyone what it means to be a Titan.”

The players shouted in response, the spirit of unity filling the air. “One last thing: rest up! I don’t want to hear that anyone partied or drank alcohol before the finals. If you do, I’ll skin you alive!”

Laughter and shouts spread through the locker room, but Steele’s seriousness conveyed the message that he truly cared. The boys knew he was there to guide them and protect what they had built together.

With practice wrapped up, the players dispersed, ready to rest up and prepare for the big game.

…

Night fell, and as the city prepared for the game the next day, Tyler lay in bed, heart racing and mind full of expectations. He knew he had a role to play, and he was determined to do it to the best of his ability. In the darkness of his room he was lost in thought, recalling the day’s practices and what awaited him in the big game.

At that moment, Lee walked into the room unannounced, his expression serious. “Tyler, we need to talk,” he said, looking intently at his brother.

Tyler frowned. “Lee? WTF? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

“You. Something’s not right with you,” Lee replied, worry evident in his voice. “I can’t pinpoint what it is, but I feel like something’s changed.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tyler asked, confused and a little irritated. “I’m great! I’m about to crush it in the game tomorrow!”

Lee shook his head, frustration growing. “It’s not that, Tyler! It’s like you’re… different. Like you’re not really you. I… I’m worried.”

“What the hell, Lee? Who else could I be? And worried? You don’t know anything about me! I’m never good enough for you, right? You’ve always been the favorite, the family talent!” Tyler shouted, anger boiling over. “But I’m gonna prove to everyone that I’m better than you, that I’m the best player!”

Lee looked at him, pain in his eyes. “Tyler, I’ve never cared about that. For me, there’s never been a competition between us. I just wanted you to be happy in your own way. You don’t have to try to be what I am or what you think everyone expects from you. What matters is that you’re yourself.”

“You don’t get it! I can’t just be me, with a Mr. Perfect brother I always have to be the better! And now that I’m finally getting attention, I can’t let it slip away!” Tyler shot back, his voice filled with frustration.

“I… I think I understand more than you realize,” Lee said, sadness weighing on his words.

“You’re not making sense, Lee! I just want to be recognized, and that involves winning! For me, that’s everything!” Tyler replied, anger replacing insecurity.

“I really thought I could trust him… I don’t know what I can do to help you, but I’ll try. Just know that I love you, little bro. I hope that next time we see each other, we can recognize each other for who we really are.”

Tyler sat there, alone, frustration and confusion flooding his mind. Until a memory popped into his head. He grabbed his phone and called Coach Steele. “Coach, I… I need to talk to you,” he said as soon as the call connected.

“Sure, Tyler. What’s up?” Steele replied, his voice calm and attentive.

“It’s about Lee. He was just here… and he doesn’t seem right; he said a bunch of nonsensical things… he thinks something’s wrong with me, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I act all tough, like I’m the best Dawson, but the truth is, Lee is my biggest inspiration, and seeing him like this… please help him!” Tyler poured out, tension evident in his voice.

“Tyler, I need you to try to remember what else your brother said. Did he say where he was going?” Steele asked, his voice now more concerned.

“I don’t know, coach. No, he didn’t say. He just mentioned he thought he could trust someone and that… that he’d try to help me… and that he hoped next time we met, we could… recognize each other. I have no idea what he meant by that.”

“I do. Try to calm down and get some sleep; tomorrow is the big day, and I promise everything will be alright. Better yet, Lee will be there to watch you shine, trust me!”

“Always, Coach!”

…

Steele hung up the phone, poured a generous shot of bourbon into two glasses, and waited for Lee. It seemed the time had come for him to answer for his choices in front of one of the few people he cared about in this world.

….

Lee walked toward Steele’s mansion, his heart racing and his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The worry for Tyler consumed him, and his brother’s words echoed in his head. “What’s wrong with him? Or is it me? Ty is right; I’m not making any sense! Still, I know… that’s not who he should be!” Lee thought, feeling frustrated for not being able to understand what was happening, but he knew there was someone who understood and worse, could be responsible for it all. As he walked, fear and frustration overwhelmed him. For it wasn’t the first time he felt that way; if he had done something sooner… maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to go through this with his own brother.

As Lee walked through the familiar streets, he couldn't help but remember those times he felt that same awkwardness when he was on the team. Not in the same creepy way as now, but it was there, this uneasy feeling, as his teammates came and went. He figured it was 'cause he never really clicked with the others off the field; his life was all about discipline, totally grinding to improve. His body was a temple, and football was his religion. Of course, there was the Pastor: Steele. They had a tight bond, with the coach filling the gap left by his dad when he bailed on the family. Maybe that’s why Lee ignored what his gut was telling him every time a new player joined the team. It’s also why he asked Steele to treat Tyler the same way he treated him. Now, Lee felt like a total fool for thinking Steele would keep that promise. The coach was the one who drilled into him the idea of winning at all costs... he just chose to overlook that to Steele “at all costs” also included everyone else. And now, his brother was paying the price for that mistake.

Standing in front of the big mansion gate, Lee felt a chill in his stomach. Without doing anything, it opened, and he walked up to the porch where the imposing figure of Steele awaited him.

“Lee, I was expecting you,” Steele said, his expression serious. “Sit down and grab a glass.” The man settled into a magnificent leather armchair and pointed to a glass of bourbon.

“You know I don’t drink. My diet is strict to not affect my performance. Besides, I need to know, what did you do to my brother?”

“To explain what happened to Tyler, I need to tell you a very long story. And I know you don’t drink, kid, but trust me, with what we need to talk about, you’re gonna need it.”

Lee complied, but the tension in the air was palpable.

“Coach, I don’t need a story; I need to know what happened to my brother… more than that… I need to know who my brother really is… or I think I’m gonna lose my mind… I need you to reverse what you did.”

“It’s not that simple, kid. What you’re asking isn’t impossible, but highly unlikely. So I need you to understand. And to understand, I need to tell you everything from the beginning, so please take a sip and listen.”

Still reluctant, Lee conceded and positioned himself to hear his former coach, feeling the drink burn his throat and warm his stomach.

“Good, good. The story I’m about to tell you starts way before Tyler, you and even me. Back in the mid-2000s, a decline in the number of young men dedicating themselves to contact sports, notably football, began to be noticed. You might question this info due to what came shortly after, but trust me, it’s real. Continuing, due to this decline, a group formed that is now known as The Board, whose goal was to find ways to prevent this decline from becoming irreversible. And thus, the so-called Enhancement Protocols emerged. Due to the shady nature of such protocols, it was established that the test fields would be some schools across the country and always with individuals over 18. Colleges would be a highly unfeasible field, and the NFL, with all its scrutiny, would be unthinkable. What happened next was… revolutionary but also opened the doors to a true hell.” Steele said, pausing to take a long sip of his own drink before continuing.

“In one location where I have no access, one of the coaches responsible found gold. A way to alter the very fabric of reality and turn insignificant kids into perfect players. The techniques used were multiple as long as there was a catalyst; clothing, food, even the presence of another altered player was enough to modify an unsuspecting target. It was groundbreaking. But there were two problems: it messed with things that shouldn’t be messed with. A bunch of mumbo jumbo occult stuff whose details are better left unsaid. The other problem is that he went rogue. The modified players of his spread like a wildfire, hitting colleges and schools all over the country to the point that the fabric of reality became so thin it allowed certain things that should’ve stayed out to come in. At that time, I was already playing for the Eagles, and I’d like to believe the NFL wasn’t affected, but I can’t know, the man’s insanity was that great. The Board can’t say for sure, nor can the government, because the one who finally ended that coach’s megalomania was an apparently ordinary individual, but whom I believe is still imbued with more power than any man should have. But thanks to him, reality got back to how it should’ve been, that is, more or less…” Steele let out a long sigh before continuing.

“The kid had no way of knowing about the board’s existence, and it reestablished itself, and from what was left of that mad coach’s work, developed the current protocols.” Steele continued with a serious air.

“I discovered the protocols in my first year as a coach. At that time, the board was still being inconspicuous, the group that took down the coach I mentioned was still active. Initially, I was against using such methods. But the decline of the 2000s was nothing compared to the mid-decade past. Suddenly, kids became these delicate little flowers that can’t handle anything, snowflakes is the term you’ll hear the most. A lot of people associate this with sexuality. Frankly, I don’t give a damn who you fuck with. But watching a bunch of crybabies dominate the school hallways while my team, a place where real men were being formed, dwindled to the point of risking disappearing? I couldn’t accept that. So I let the board into my life and my Titans. Initially only to fill some gaps, cover some deficiencies. I justified it to myself. But over time I used the protocols more and more to the point of having no justifications. Not that I cared anymore, because the Titans had become the team I always thought it should be…

“You… I… did you do something to me?” Lee asked, his voice trembling.

“No, you, Lee, you were a gift to me, a perfect player with no need for intervention, totally focused and dedicated, even not fitting into certain specifications of the board. Specifications I never cared about, by the way. But even the board never dared to ask me to intervene with you given your impressive stats. And I don’t know if I would’ve done anything, even if they asked. The truth is, you reminded me of myself, and I would’ve never had the guts to do anything to you. But then came Tyler. Tyler was a younger version of you, unfortunately without the same impressive talent. Not that the kid lacked talent, but it just wasn’t enough. And the board intervened in the worst way possible. Right before you left for college, taking advantage of the calm environment after so many years acting in the shadows, the they became bold. They developed a method that traded the elegance and subtlety of the previous ones for a much faster and seemingly just as effective one. They called it the BACS Protocol, a stupid acronym that doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is that with this protocol, all it takes is a signal sent by a simple smartphone to a previously exposed individual to a catalyst that can even be dispersed in the air around him, and out of nowhere you have a perfect player ready under all the specifications of the council. To avoid a bunch of clones walking around, the signal uses the player’s own perceptions of what each of the acronym’s specifications represents and uses the individual’s genetic base to update him. For someone like you or Tyler, this can be… disturbing, a change so fast and radical in the fabric of reality without a safer catalyst, an anchor. See, with a stable enough catalyst even the transformed's family members can be modified to better fit their new narrative. BACS has no such capability, which in retrospect may have been a blessing, just thinking about what could have happened to you... sorry, I lost focus. The truth is that unlike safer methods this absence leads to some glitches. Like the ones you’ve been feeling.”

“You mean to say that Tyler…?”

“Yeah… the protocol was shut down due to failures, but for some obtuse reason, the board decided to pick it back up and Tyler was chosen as an example.”

“And you didn’t do a damn thing???” Lee asked, outraged. “You just let my brother be taken like a pig to slaughter? And turned him into this?”

“That’s still your brother, just like many of your teammates with whom you sweat and bled for victory. They’re still people, Lee, with dreams and desires. You might even disagree with their way of life, but don’t treat them like things.”

“I can’t believe the size of your hypocrisy!”

“Yeah, I’m a hypocrite. But I’ve always treated my players the same, the naturals and the modified ones; to me, there’s no difference between them. Except for you, like BACS has its glitches, you were mine.”

“Then help me, help revert what happened to Tyler!”

“It’s harder than you can imagine, Lee. There’s someone out there with that capability, but you don’t want to get in his way!”

“Why not?”

“Because he would destroy everything I’ve built, everything you know too, because that’s his mission. And I can’t allow that.”

“And what’s stopping me from going after this guy on my own?”

“The fact that you ingested a high dose of the catalyst compound and are in the presence of a very strong physical catalyst right next to you, namely me. I swear I’d rather not do this to you, but after letting what happened to Tyler happen, it’s better this way. I promise the only thing that will change for you is accepting reality and Tyler as they are now!”

Upon hearing that, Lee tried to move, but it felt like he was glued to the chair, as if trapped in an invisible trap. While Coach Steele, the man he considered a substitute father, betrayed him a second time.

Seated, paralyzed in that armchair, Lee felt a strange pressure in his body, followed by a wave of heat, and then the first transformation took over his arms, which began to swell, the muscles expanding under the skin. He looked down, perplexed, as his biceps became so bulky with muscles and fat they seemed ready to burst through the shirt he wore. Seeing that, Steele’s eyes widened, and he shouted: “That wasn’t supposed to happen!” But as he tried to get up and somehow intervene, he found himself glued to his own seat. With nothing left to do, the coach watched in growing panic as what came next unfolded.

As he struggled to comprehend what was happening, Lee's legs began to change too. His already huge thighs swelled even more, becoming the size of tree trunks, while a layer of fat started to accumulate, softening the sharp lines he had worked so hard to achieve. Lee felt a mix of horror and a strange pleasure as that transformation unfolded, as if his body were rebelling against his will.

“Lee, you need to resist!” Coach Steele shouted, but his voice sounded distant and powerless, for he knew there was nothing that could be done.

The pressure in his abdomen intensified, and Lee could feel his belly protruding. The famous eight-pack he valued so much was disappearing, replaced by a still firm belly, but now with a more robust appearance, a true muscle gut. He felt as if he were in a nightmare, struggling against the waves of transformation that dominated him. As he attempted to speak, a loud burp escaped involuntarily… buuuuuuurp…

“This can’t be happening!”, Steele repeated, thrashing in his chair. As the change reached Lee’s face, his jaw became more square momentarily only to be hidden by a layer of fat, and then by a thick, scruffy beard. The straight, well-kept hair he always sported now fell in messy locks, giving him a wild look. Lee tried to protest once more, but another burp escaped, and he felt even more frustrated. “Why is this happening?!” confusion dominating his thoughts.

The changes reached his feet, once slender, now starting to expand, going from a respectable size 11 to a gigantic size 15, ripping the sneakers he wore, each thick toe covered with a layer of dark hair. His firm, muscular backside turned into a big cushion. Coach Steele, watching in a mix of horror and despair, shook his head. “No, Lee! Please, no! What have I done?!” he shouted, his voice trembling. The horror of the situation enveloped him, and he felt powerless, unable to help.

As the transformation peaked, Lee found himself in a more muscular and robust body, more like an offensive guard than a tight end. Not that he could think of that, for at that moment, his mind was invaded by conflicting information. The strict diet with complex carbs and high-quality proteins and zero alcohol was replaced by a ogre diet and occasional binge drinking, nothing that would harm the team, but off-season is off-season for a reason. The obsession with being the best remained, but the way of looking at it shifted from almost military-level self-demand to the belief that he would be the best because he always had been; it was inherent to him. The serious and even somber demeanor was replaced by a carefree joy and an unshakeable teenage humor. As a smile spread across his face, it was all over. There was nothing else Steele could do, even if he managed to move, which was still impossible for him.

Lee’s worried and quick thoughts were replaced by an almost absolute relaxation; he was someone who knew his place and what he had to do. Anyone looking from the outside would have the impression of a big teddy bear, but once against him, they’d see he was, in fact, a raging grizzly bear when on the field.

With a carefree attitude, he looked at himself. His clothes were bursting at the seams, the fabric struggling to keep up with the growth of his new body. His shirt was stretched so tight it looked like it could rip at any moment, while his shorts looked more like strips than actual clothing. What the hell had happened? But before he could even think of worrying, his gut acted up, and Lee let out a loud and uncontrollable fart, while the room echoed with the sound he burst into laughter, any trace of horror turning into a moment of pure joy.

As Lee reveled in his new form, patting his powerful gut with a goofy grin on his face, Coach Steele just watched, horrified and powerless. “What have I done...,” he murmured, his mind whirling around the implications of his pupil’s transformation.

Without either man noticing, Jenkins entered the room just as Lee’s transformation completed. He observed the now-imposing young man with his muscular and robust body. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “What did you do?” Jenkins said, with a tone of disdain, startling Steele, who hadn’t seen the sly man but realized at that moment who was truly behind what had happened. “Just what you should’ve done a long time ago. But the specifications weren’t yours.”

Jenkins then turned to Lee, who now looked like a true giant. “Hey, Bull Dawg, how’s it going?” he asked, the provocation evident in his voice.

Lee, exuding the chill vibe that now surrounded him, smiled back. “I’m feeling kinda funny,” he replied, as he stood up and admired himself in one of the mirrors in the room.

“Must be all the whiskey you’ve been drinking,” Jenkins remarked, laughing. “You’ve always been the type to not miss a chance to have fun.”

Lee shot a quick glance at Jenkins, winking playfully. “You know me too well,” he replied, flexing his huge arms and biceps, completely ruining the shirt he wore and exposing his powerful pecs and exuberant muscle gut covered in wild hair.

"Alright, alright. Now, if you’ll excuse me," Jenkins said, turning to Lee, "Steele and I need to hash out some big kid stuff."

"Whatever," Lee shot back, all nonchalant. "But I’m taking the whiskey with me." He turned, the power of his new, impressive body filling the space around him as he grabbed the bottle of bourbon but no glass.

Jenkins and Steele watched as Lee strutted out of the room, one with a smug grin and the other with a dead-serious look. The giant’s heavy footsteps echoed on the floor, his muscular back and well-defined glutes becoming a spectacle in their own right, while the shorts several sizes too small threatened to rip with every step those powerful bare feet took.

“A true masterpiece.” Jenkins said, settling into the chair where Lee had been sitting moments before, the leather still warm from his presence. He crossed his legs, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he looked at Coach Steele, who still seemed to be digesting what had just happened.

“So, Steele,” Jenkins began, his voice calm and controlled, “what do you think of all this?”

Steele, unable to move, finally found his voice. “What did you do, Jenkins? Why make such a drastic decision with a talented athlete like Lee?”

“Oh, Steele,” Jenkins replied, shaking his head almost condescendingly. “You yourself pointed out that BACS has its glitches. And Dawson became a problem. We needed a solution; he was a valuable asset, but the market is changing, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone. What you need to understand is that even though there’s always room for the disciplined athlete like Tom Brady, that’s so 2000s… no, no, with Jason Kelce’s retirement, a niche opened up, that of the wild giant who turns out to be a cute clown. Men identify with him thinking illusionarily that a body like his is more easily attainable than a “more fit one”, and women see the figure of a future husband, someone not so worried about having a sixpack. Which reminds me that I need to find a good girlfriend for the kid and maybe twin boys in a year or two… So, a big teddy bear with a younger, more rebellious bro? All that's left is to find a pop diva to make that winning combo happen again, right? I wonder if I still have Olívia Rodrigo manager's phone number. I’ll have to figure that out too… So the boring, regimented and suspicious Lee needed to go so that the fun, lovable yet aggressive when necessary Bull Dawg could emerge. Ahh the amount of profits these brothers will bring!

"I believed the board wanted the best athletes possible," Steele said, his voice thick with anger.

"The board wants profits. And believe me, someone like the old Lee doesn't do a tenth of what Bull Dawg promises. The public wants their idols to be close to them. They want to feel like they're part of their lives. They want them to be fun. Trust me, Lee Bull Dawg Dawson is someone who knows how to have fun, especially with the products and facilities of our sponsors."

"You and I have very different opinions of what a football fan wants."

"And so we come to the real reason I'm here today. Dawson was just an appetizer, the main course is you, you and your damn insubordination."

Steele took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as Jenkins’ words echoed in his mind. “I’ve always been loyal to the board’s guidelines, Jenkins. You know that. I’ve always put the rules first.” His voice trembled slightly, but he fought to maintain a firm tone.

Jenkins leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and disdain. “Loyalty? Is this what you call loyalty? The admiration you feel for Lee Dawson blinded you, Steele. You didn’t see that the younger Dawson needed enhancement. Your focus was so fixated on your precious Lee that you ignored what was right in front of you.”

Steele felt the blood rush to his head, indignation forming like a storm inside him. “I didn’t hide anything from the board! I always did what was best for the athletes, not just for one of them. You can’t just…”

“Can’t just what?” Jenkins interrupted, an ironic smile forming on his lips. “Hide the truth? Like you did? Since the incident years ago, you know the board can’t allow any coaches to go rogue. And you, my friend, have crossed the line. Your romanticized vision of what Lee and Tyler could be became a trap, and now you’re gonna pay the price.”

Steele tried to stand, but found himself glued to the chair, as if an invisible force kept him there. Panic began to spread through his body, and he turned to Jenkins, his expression turning to desperation. “Jenkins, please, I beg you!”

“Oh, but I have no choice, Steele,” Jenkins replied, his voice now wrapped in a chilling tone. “Did you really think we wouldn’t have a way to deal with types like you? You’re gonna go through the COACH protocol. Complete Overdrive and Assimilation to the Command Hierarchy. It’s what the council decided. On the field, your attitude is impeccable and should continue that way. But you have no idea how happy I am to be free of your stiffness and bitterness, of your unbearable righteousness.” Jenkins said with a mocking smile that showed all his satisfaction before continuing to speak.

“But cheer up, after the step taken with Lee today, the board decided it’s finally time to expand to college, and you, my future and less uptight best friend, are gonna be the pioneer of this. A spot coaching your old college team awaits your new media approved showman self. A self that will pave your way back to the NFL when the board deems it necessary.”

With one last effort, Steele tried to break free, but the pressure was unbearable. He looked around the room, searching for an escape, but everything seemed to fade around him. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Jenkins’ smug grin, a smile that symbolized both triumph and betrayal, as darkness enveloped him.

….

The celebration at Coach Steele's house after the championship was epic. The Titans, once again, showed their power on the field, snagging the title with an impressive victory. The atmosphere was filled with euphoria, and the players were ready to party. Steele’s house was packed with food, drinks, and laughter, with the guys from the team having a blast while reminiscing about the best moments of the season.

Brock, Adam, Connor, and the rest were all there, laughing and making toasts. Lee, who had been given a break from classes until after the Christmas holidays thanks to Mr. Jenkins, was in his element. He moved through the party like a king, surrounded by friends and admirers. Upon finding his little brother, he couldn't help but smile.

"You really gave it your all this season, T-Dawg!" he said, raising his cup. "I’m so proud of you!"

"Thanks, big bro! And this is just the beginning! I’m ready to head to college and show everyone what I can do!" Tyler replied, his smile shining even brighter.

Lee looked at Tyler, a satisfied grin on his lips. "You know, I’m really glad I won’t have to face you on the field. With you playing like a beast, I’d be in trouble!" He laughed.

Tyler smiled back but couldn't help thinking about what that meant. "Oh, but who knows, maybe one day we’ll meet in the NFL? You could still be my rival on the field or worse, we might end up competing for the same position on a team."

Lee gave Tyler a pat on the shoulder, his smile turning into a rare serious look. "Listen, don’t worry about that. The truth is, when I come back from break, I’ll probably be moved to another position, maybe as a guard or center. I’ve outgrown what a Tight End should be.” He said with a grin while giving a little pat on his muscular gut. “So, if all goes well, we’ll never have to compete for the same spot, better we can be an incredible duo on the same team."

Tyler looked surprised by the revelation. "Seriously? That’s amazing! But… how are we gonna figure out who’s the better player?"

Lee chuckled, shaking his head again. "Fuck who’s better, Tyler! What I really want is to play football and go pro. If it’s alongside you, even better. But enough talk, we should be having fun."

As the party progressed, the energy was through the roof. The guys started competing in an impromptu arm wrestling championship in one corner, while flip cup and beer pong dominated other spots. The music was blasting, and the drinks flowed freely. Lee, in particular, seemed to be enjoying himself more and more, his confidence soaring. His teenage behavior, despite his age, was not out of place among the Titans boys who saw him as an example to follow. He began bragging about his achievements, cracking jokes and teasing the others.

"Hey, who wants to see Bull Dawg do a backflip? Bet I can nail it!" Lee shouted, seizing a moment when Steele were momentarily absent, drawing everyone’s attention in the backyard.

"Go for it, bro!" Tyler shouted, as the crowd's excitement peaked.

As everyone gathered around the pool, Lee climbed onto a small platform, determination etched on his face. He was visibly drunk, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to impress his brother and friends. Tyler and the others watched, a mix of anxiety and fun on their faces, as intoxicated as the older man.

"Go, Lee! Show what you got!" Connor yelled, cheering on his friend.

Lee got ready, taking a deep breath before launching himself into the air. The backflip was perfect, and the impact of his massive body hitting the water was violent, soaking everyone around and sending the team boys into a frenzy.

“Bull Dawg!!! Bull Dawg!!” they all shouted in unison. As he came out of the pool laughing excitedly. Meanwhile, Tyler hugged his brother, saying, “Now I gotta do something bigger!”

“Chill, T-Dawg, you’ve already done enough! You're way cooler than I am! But you are a bit too dry for my taste!” Lee replied, shoving his little brother into the pool and falling in with him amidst laughter.

At that moment, Coach Steele approached with his usual off the field chill smile. He watched the scene, pleased to see that everyone there, just like himself, perfectly fit the board’s criteria, but he also felt the need to maintain at least a certain level of discipline. With a firm movement, he stepped closer to the group, calling everyone’s attention.

“Hey, boys! Time to stop the show!” Steele said, his voice booming over the party noise. The music faded into a whisper as heads turned to look at the coach. Lee and Tyler, still wet and smiling, climbed out of the pool, with Dawson boys striking a triumphant pose of gratitude.

“Come on, coach! We’re just celebrating!” Tyler said, laughing.

“Celebrating is great, but I need you all to remember what it means to be a Titan!” Steele began, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. “This season wasn’t just about winning on the field. It was about teamwork, overcoming challenges, and what it means to be part of a family. Each of you proved that together, we’re stronger. And that’s not just a motto; it’s our truth.”

The boys listened intently, the festive atmosphere shifting quickly to a more serious tone.

“You learned to fight for what you believe in, to support each other, and to never give up. Most importantly, you discovered who you really are. That’s what makes you Titans. And I want you to carry that with you forever. No matter where life takes you, always take with you the team spirit we built here,” Steele continued, his gaze steady and determined.

“Now, I have something important to share with you. I’ve been invited to take the position of offensive line coach at Ohio State,” he announced, and a murmur of surprise spread through the group.

“Wow, coach! That’s awesome!” Rafe shouted, clapping.

“I know many of you dream of playing at a higher level, and this is the chance I need to take the experience you had here to a new level. But that means I’ll have to leave the Titans, at least for now,” Steele said, his voice firm, but a bit melancholic. The atmosphere became heavy, the reality of his departure starting to settle in among the players.

“I want you to know that this team meant everything to me. Each of you has incredible talent, and I’ll be cheering for all of you. As soon as I get there, I’ll make sure to stay in touch. And I hope to see some of these faces in September,” he said, looking into each player’s eyes.

“And for the rest, don’t worry! I’ll personally choose the next coach for the Titans. You can trust I’ll pick someone who will continue what we started here, someone who understands what it means to be a Titan. Trust me, after all, as you all say, Coach Knows Best.”

The boys started to applaud, the energy filling the room again. “Thank you, coach! You’re the best!” they shouted in unison.

“Now, get back to having fun! Go Titans!” Steele exclaimed, raising his beer glass in a toast.

The players shouted in response, excitement taking over again. They gathered in a circle, raised their cups, and yelled: “Go Titans!”

[milessunflowers]

Hello! Um... lestappen (they aren't together, not because they don't want to be but because it doesn't feel right) being happy about seeing their shared crush again after not seeing him because he decided to go to nascar only for him to switch to formula 1 for 2025 because he accepted the offer the new team gave him and because he missed them too. (Feel like lestappen doesn't tell reader that they have been in love with him since f3 because they thought he was straight, male reader thought that max was straight and charles was bisexual leaning to women and also didn't tell them he was in love with them)

Also! Love everything you've written so far! Love the franco, paper rings, fic its my fav so far!!!

–🍑

thank you so much peach!! that motivates me so much!! also this idea *chefs kiss*

max verstappen x male!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: when you finally make your debut back in the world of formula racing, max and charles come to terms with how much they loved you, leading to you finally confessing.

author's note: okay so after some practice, i am now comfortable enough that i can write well enough for a driver!reader. for purposes, cadillac will already be a team and reader will be american AND LOGAN IS HIS TEAMMATE BC I SAY SO (miss my american sm😔) EVEN IF IT IS ONLY BRIEFLY MENTIONED. anyways, feel free to request, read the guidelines first ofc! (also apologies for the lack of dialogue in this one. i kinda forgot how to write good dialogue and kinda just let things flow! felt right for the vibes to me idk)

formula one, a true dream come true for you. you had raced in earlier formula series, alongside the likes of now four time world champion, max verstappen, and ferrari golden boy, charles leclerc. you hadn't seen them in a few tears as you had been busy racing in nascar, dominating the tracks at almost every track. you missed them, more than you would ever admit.

when you first heard that cadillac would be joining formula one as a brand new team, you felt sparks of hope erupt deep in your chest. maybe, just maybe, you would finally get the chance to race against your once competitors (and the two men who were your first real crushes).

you hadn't expected to be approached by your manager with a multi-year deal with the american team. without a second thought, you signed immediately, ecstatic that you could prove yourself to those you grew up racing, not including your all-time hero, fernando alonso. you couldn't keep in your excitement, which was clear to everyone in your immediate circle, including your new teammate and mentee (who in reality is a year younger than you), logan sargeant.

when it was revealed you were to be racing for the newest addition to the paddock, max and charles had almost the same reaction: joyful nervousness. they realized all to late the feelings they harbored for you.

but now... now you're back. it was exciting and terrifying for the two men, who have grown accustomed to only really seeing each other and never acknowledging those feelings.

to say that you were all big fat chickens was an understatement.

the first time you reappeared in the busy paddock, charles felt his heart jump to his throat while max just felt frozen. in ways, they each thought you looked better, less stressed and more mature. you seemed genuinely happy, especially in what they always called your natural habitat. you were a social able person after all.

they struck up small conversations during the driver's parade, mainly catching up and swapping jokes. it reminded you three of the old times, even if max and charles back then had some sort of beef. it made you feel even happier and more excited to be back and racing in the formula series.

it took a good few races before the three of you finally shared a podium. you would have never expected to feel more excited about p2 then now. in the cool down room, you chatted heartedly with max, awaiting for the winner to finally arrive. once the three of you were together, it was nothing but subtle flirting and chatter until it was time to go to the podium. even there (save for during monaco's national anthem as well as the italian one ringing) the three would not shut up.

it wasn't until the after party at the club where the three of you drank half of your body weight, confessing with no shame to each other. you couldn't remember the night, having had way too much to drink after celebrating your first podium of the season.

when you awoke the morning, you were in an unfamiliar hotel room, a warm weight behind you. you groan awake, blinking as the morning sun shone bright through the curtains, bathing yourself, max verstappen, and charles leclerc in a beautiful golden li-

wait, max and charles? you sobered up real quick and scrambled out of bed, falling with a loud thud in the process. you curse yourself, trying to grab whatever shirt was closest and pulling it on.

charles was the next one awake, stirring on the farthest side of the bed where he had curled around max. he blinked those beautiful eyes awake, a soft smile gracing your lips before you snapped out of it.

this couldn't be happening. you were half panicked, half happy to have woken up with the two men you had secretly loved for years but never, in a million lifetimes, would have ever thought were anything but into you. charles rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not yet having caught on what was happening. you stood there dumbly, still as a statue as you both finally made eye contact.

you chuckled awkwardly and charles let out a surprised yelp, loud enough to startle the last man asleep awake. you stared at each other for a good, long, ten seconds before max broke the silence with a cough before he sat up, as if all this was casual. it was very on brand for the dutchman.

it was quiet again, charles blinking blankly while you scrambled to collect your belongings. max stops you, sits you back down on the bed, and tries to calm you and charles down. and for some reason, it was too easy for him to.

he was gentle and sweet, carefully explaining what was going (or at least what he thought) before he finally comes clean, opening up about his feelings. after that, it was easy for you and charles to do the same, just in a slightly less organized and calm manner. it was no longer awkward but sweet and caring, soothing each nerve in the three bodies to a nice, warm hum.

you offered to make breakfast while max and charles cleaned up. from then on, it had become routine. from the hotel stays in different countries, to moving into the same apartment in monaco now overrun with pets. it was healthy and well established, the three of you keeping things strictly business at work but at home, leaving raving behind for a nice night in with the lobes of your life.

TAGS! (if you would like to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m

[meanbossart]

Hellow

I was catching up with the latest chapters of ANE before reading The Spice™️ and I was reminded of how well you build and describe the environment surrounding your characters. Which prompts me to ask:

1 Do you have any drawings/sketches of landscapes and places from ANE that you can/would like to share?

2 Any advice for someone (me) that isn’t really good at putting their characters in places? I always end up with either a ‘too crowded’ or a ‘too barren’ of a setting.

Thank you for reading and hopefully answering my questions byee:3

Hello!!

Thank you! I have no idea what I'm doing so I'm glad I'm able to paint a good enough picture 😅

I do have two VERY simple sketches of the house of blood/the compound that I made to compare against my boyfriend's mental picture of it, basically to see how well I had been able to describe it since it's by far the most challenging area to put down into text.

(everything is very boxy and not exactly the ideal proportion, but again, this was a very simple sketch I made to "aid" the descriptions rather than for it to stand on its own at all) Here you see the "apple core" of the hive with the drow settlement and all the precarious platforms that interconnect and spring out of it. The cabins you see are sometimes two stories high so the area us actually quite big! Which is how Do'zynge is able to walk across the support-beams on the underside of said platforms even though he's rather large for a drider. The catwalk pictured can be moved up and down to connect people to different floors a little faster.

Here's a similar sketch based off of an specific scene, this one focuses more on the walkways built into the walls. I'm not sure why I huddled the doors together so much, they should definitely be more spaced out.

Also, while I used the same shorthand for everything, the spawn living spaces are all wood and stone - from the doors to the floor and railings. While the drow settlement (where Dalyria is too) is mostly metal and well structured tents.

For your second question, that's rough because I am also never quite satisfied with my descriptions 😂but I think that's a part of it; you need to make peace with the fact that you will NOT be able to paint a perfect picture, and think of the whole process as less of a job that you must do alone, but rather a collaboration between you and the reader's own creativity! You have to be willing to put some of the onus on them to imagine what it is you're trying to transcribe, instead feeling under the obligation of giving them exact descriptions for every little thing.

I try to use words that evoke a specific style and mood - say that the room is ornamental, warm, say that it's all golden and red and six sentences from now mention that the couch your character sat in is velvety. Reveal things as they come into relevance instead of interrupting the pace for two entire paragraphs to describe the room your characters just walked into - when appropriate, consider what they would even pay attention to at all and maybe limit yourself to it. Set a rough base for your environment at the start of a scene and then sprinkle descriptors in throughout the prose, and always consider if you truly NEED to get into the specifics of something or if the reader can be left to their own imaginative devices.

Also, unless necessary or some sort of plot device, I find that trying to establish where things are in a room (doors, furniture, stairs) in a map-like manner is a waste of time. Just say "behind him", "to her left", "right ahead", I don't think being overly specific benefits anybody - your reader picturing this set of stairs facing the west rather than the east is unlikely to be consequential to your narrative.

That being said, don't shy away from pointing "unnecessary" things out when they help set a mood, or help in characterization. Way early in ANE there's a scene where DU drow walks into the room where him, Astarion, and Shadowheart have been staying and are now about to leave, he takes note of the fact that one of them made the bed - he doesn't say who, besides that it wasn't himself, but I put that there to hopefully establish from early on that one character's priorities had started to change. In the compound, Dalyria is described as collecting useless things she found in the underground and displaying them around the office - this, on top of her new look, outfit, and company should paint a picture. Irennor's living situation should say all there is to know about him, and the way DU drow dismantles his belongings after only what is immediately valuable instead of considering the historical significance of anything says something about him, too. That's my favorite way of setting scenes, by finding out how to say something about the people in it.

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 2

Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Part two baby let's goooooooooo

Okay first up, I wanna thank every single person who has liked, reblogged, commented on and read part one (if you didn't catch it, you can read it here :)) . I love and appreciate every single one of you. Your support, comments and tags are literally food for my soul. So thank you ^^

Second, this fic makes reference to @beckyninja 's Titus x reader fic series. Specifically, it references Titus' relationship with the reader character "little healer." I really wanted to reference them bc they were such a big inspiration for me and @beckyninja is such an awesome writer and creator. If you wanna know more, go check out their fics. They're superbly written, and as mentioned above, they are among the inspo for this series. So go read them! :D

Third, standard warnings and notes: this part is sfw, but has violence, angst and general 40kness. Also unedited so apologies for any spelling and grammar errors (I'm sure there are some lol)

As always, thank you for reading and please enjoy :)

Between the towering grid of criss-crossing spires, the night sky twinkled at Ellicent. It was only a sliver- if she held out her hand, she could cover it entirely with her palm. But for a girl whose life until how had been spent at the very bottom of the Underhive's deepest fissures, it was like looking through a planetary telescope.

Stars of every colour shone against the deep blue back drop. It might just be her imagination, but Ellicent could've sworn it they were winking at her. Like they knew how pretty they were, and were only too happy to show off of her.

A smile touched Ellicent's lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly content.

"I thought I might find you up here."

She turned in her seat. On her left, not far from where the chimney sat, a warm, round face framed with silver hair appeared over the edge of the roof. Ellicent's smile broadened a little more. "You know me well," she said.

Climbing off the ladder and onto the roof, Gadriel carefully made his way over to her Although they were about the same age, were she was lithe like a cat, he built like an ox. Meant with every step he took, the iron sheet that made up the roof shook and rattled. He lowered himself down beside her, then followed her gaze upward.

"Pretty, right?" Ellicent said.

"Uh huh. If only there weren't so many hive spires in the way."

Smirking, Ellicent leaned into his shoulder. Gadriel lifted his arm to make room for her, then draped it around her. Ellicent had to resist the urge to sigh- after sitting outside in the cold for so long, the warmth of his body against hers was heavenly.

"If you join the Angels, you'll get to see all of it," she said.

"You mean when."

"Sorry. When."

Both of their tones are humourous, but underneath is an edge. An unspoken tension wedged between them, despite how close they are now.

"I thought you'd be too old now, anyway," Ellicent said. "Don't they only take young boys?"

"18 cycles is the official cut off," Gadriel said. "I've still got one more left to make it."

Eliicent nodded, but said nothing. Her silence, however, spoke for her.

Gadriel's arm around her tightened. Gently, he guided her head into the crook of his neck. "Ellie. I-"

"I know. It's the best way to get out of here. To get us out of here." She shook her head slightly. "But it's not the only way. And it's definitely the most dangerous."

"It's only dangerous for me," Gadriel said. "For you and Mum, it's the safest."

Ellicent swallowed the lump that was forming in the back of her throat. An old familiar grief rose up within her heart. With it, it brought pictures of her father.

"Ellie?" Gadriel asked. She felt the warm kiss of his forehead touching her crown. "Will you say something?"

Gazing up at him, Ellicent gave him a brief peck on the lips. "We've still got one cycle," she said. "We'll figure something else out by then."

"And if we don't?"

"We will," Ellicent said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It wasn't him.

Over and over, her head tells her the same thing. With every turn of her screwdriver. With every jolt of pain that shoots through her shoulder from her damaged cybernetic arm.

It wasn't him.

It wasn't him.

It wasn't him.

"But it was," Ellicent says aloud. "It was. He said my name. I heard his voice. It was him."

Why did he never come back, then?

Why did he leave you?

The screwdriver slips from her hand and clatters to the floor. Cursing, she stoops down to pick it up. "I... I don't know," she hisses at herself. "Maybe he- maybe he was too busy. Or thought I was already dead."

Or maybe he forgot about you.

Tears sting Ellicent's eyes. It's all she can do to keep herself from crying out loud.

"It wasn't him," she mutters. "It can't have been."

The snap of an opening door makes her look up.

"Ellicent! What the hell was that?"

Ellicent winces away from the voice. It grates her like a razor across her ear, spawns a knot of anxiety deep within her gut. "I'm sorry, sir," she says. "I-"

He punches her in the face. Hard enough to break the skin of her brow. Ellicent tumbles out of her chair, breaking her fall with her still-damaged cybernetic. The arm's metal hisses like a snake who's been stood on.

"How many Space Marines have you killed for me already, huh?"

Ellicent touches her finger to her brow. She stifles another wince.

"How many?!" Severus bellows.

Ellicent swallows bile and blood. "Ten," she murmurs.

"That's right. Ten." Grasping her by the pony tail, Severus hails her to her feet. His own bionic arm whines with the effort. "So tell me, " he spits. "Why the fuck was some trio of damned blue boy-scouts able to best you?"

Ellicent avoids his eye. He hates it when she looks at him. Doing so now would only earn her another punch. "I'm sorry," she says again, even meeker than before.

She can feel Severus' glare boring through her skull. Her scalp is screaming, but she bites her lip against the pain. Show no resistance. Only subservience. Even if you hate it, it is the only way to survive.

With a wordless snarl, Severus throws her to the ground. "Worthless wretch. I invest everything in building you, and you give me nothing in return."

Ellicent sneaks a glance up at him. Running his hand through his long, greasy hair, he wears an exhausted, frustrated scowl. "The Drukhari won't forgive us for this," he says, more to himself than to her. "They'll want to cut ties. Won't wanna risk having the Sons of Guilliman looking their way."

He carries on like this for several minutes. Completely ignoring Ellicent, as if she'd never been in the room in the first place. Ellicent pushes herself up to her knees, but doesn't risk trying to rise. Even without the threat of Severus' wrath, however, she doubts she could stand anyway. Her face aches from the punch, and her head is spinning.

It wasn't him, her mind tells her. Over and over again.

Her heart, however, is not so easily silenced.

But what if it was?

* * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"A Valkyrie is on it's way for Chairon," Titus reports. "Despite appearances, the Apothecary believes he will likely survive."

Gadriel looks up from his hands. For the last hour, he's done nothing but stare at them in silence. He looks past Titus to where their brother lies prone. When the gas charge had detonated, Chairon had caught a piece of debris to the side of the head. It had struck with enough force to sever his helm, break his skin and crack his skull. A sickening mixture of emotions broil within Gadriel at the sight of his brother like this. At the knowledge of who had done it to him.

"Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise."

"Sergeant?"

Gadriel starts. "Forgive me," he says. "That is- that is a relief. Thank the Emperor, indeed."

Titus' expressionless helm stares at Gadriel for several long moments. Gadriel has to stifle the urge to squirm. The lieutenant briefly looks around; after the attack, the fireteam had retreated into a nearby complex, smashing down the windows and taking cover within its walls. Since then, the area has been silent. The only evidence of there ever being a fireifght are the odd tangle of black smoke still spiralling in the air. Satisfied that they are still secure, Titus looks back at Gadriel.

Then, he removes his helm.

The seals around his throat hiss as Titus breaks them, lifting off the helmet before tucking it under his arm. His face is squarer than Gadriel's, with a firmer jaw and a blunt nose. His hair is cropped close to his skull and the pair of silver studs above his right brow indicating his century-long career as an Ultramarine- gleam in the low, polluted light. His is a fierce visage to look upon, there's not doubt about that. But despite that, when he looks at Gadriel now, the only thing fierce about him is the intensity of his worry.

"Forgive me for saying this, brother. But you appear to be distracted. Unsettled, even."

Gadriel's instinct is to lower his gaze. To try and brush the lieutenant off with a snide remark or flat out refusal. Indeed, if they had been having this conversation back on Kadaku, that might have been exactly what he would have done. But much has happened since then. Many things, both good and bad, have passed between him and Titus. As such, the lieutenant has become one of his closest friends.

If anyone might understand, it will be him.

Taking a breath, Gadriel sighs it out through his nose. Removing his own helmet, he sits upon a nearby ledge and sets it on his lap. "That woman," he starts. "I... I know her."

"You've encountered her before?"

Gadriel covers his blush with one hand, feigning the need to rub his nose. "That's one way of putting it."

Titus eyes him carefully. Despite his best efforts, Gadriel can feel himself wilting under the scrutinisation. Titus clasps his helmet to his hip, then walks up to Gadriel to sit beside him. He's leaning forwards elbows braced on his knees. Something about the posture gives Gadriel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Is she a former ally?" Titus asks quietly.

Gadriel chews his cheek. Shakes his head.

"An enemy, then?"

"No," Gadriel says sharply. "No, she- she was the first one."

"An ally?"

"How much more?"

The word makes him wince. "Yes. But she was..." Throne, how do I even describe it? "She was more than that. A lot of more."

Gadriel bites his cheek. His tongue feels like ash in his mouth. "We were... together. Before I joined the Ultramarines."

Titus nods thoughtfully. "I see."

A beat of silence passed between them. Titus is the one to break it. "Tell me, how long have you served for?"

"As of this cycle? Fifty three years."

Tirus nods again. "That's a long time. Particularly in the eyes of a baseline."

The comment is innocent enough, and in no way untrue. Even so, Gadriel feels his hackles rise. "What are you saying? "

"She tried to kill us, Gadriel. She raised a weapon against the Emperor's Angels. And even if she hadn't, I know you saw the same as I: the particle beams, the necronian cybernetics. That alone is-"

"It's not as simple as that," Gadriel says. He looks down at his hands. "It can't be."

His hands become fists. For the first time this entire interaction, Gadriel looks Titus right in the eye. "I need to talk to her."

"Sergeant-"

"No, listen to me. Ellie would never do this. Never. Severus must be coercing her or have her enslaved."

"Gadriel-"

"She could've killed me back there, at the warehouse. She had her blade at my throat. But she didn't. When she heard me speak, she stopped. She recognised me, Titus. She said my damn name!"

"Gadriel, enough!"

Titus' voice snaps like a whip, cutting Gadriel off mid-breath. The corners of his eyes have hardened slightly, and though he still appear sympathetic, Gadriel can feel exasperation bubbling beneath it. "I understand your frustration, brother. If she were truly falsely accused, you know I would take your side. But we both saw her wielding alien technology. We both saw her bomb wound Chairon and her blade almost kill you." His voice softens. "Whoever she was to you does not change that. It can't."

Gadriel bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. The taste of his own blood is sharp on his tongue. Sharper still is the invisible blade scything away at his heart.

But what if it's all my fault? He wants to say. What if I was reason for whatever terrible thing that brought her here, and if I didn't remedy it, I could not bear to live with myself.

Gadriel says no such thing, however. If he did, all he would get from Titus is more stern sympathy.

That isn't to say that Gadriel remains silent, however. In fact, he's already got his next argument prepared, has for a while. He doesn't know if it will work, and the only thing he does knkw is that, initially at least, it will do nothing but outrage Titus. But Gadriel has no other ideas. He's desperate. And he running out of the time.

"What if it had been your little healer?"

Titus' entire body goes rigid. "What?"

Gadriel clenches his jaw. Both of his hearts pound as if he'd just stepped into a firefight. But he keeps talking. "She was accused of heresy, wasn't she? Her own people tried to kill her. But you saved her."

Titus' nostrils flare as he exhales sharply through his nose. "What relevance does that have here?"

"What relevance?" Gadriel demands. "It is the same thing!"

"My healer was falsely accused."

"You didn't know that when you saved her, though, did you?"

With a crash of ceramite on concrete, Titus is on his feet. "Speak your mind, Sergeant," he growls. "But I warn you; you are on thin ice."

Gadriel steadies his pulses with a slow, deep breath. Then, joining Titus on his feet, he meets the lieutenant's gaze. "If this was your healer," he says. "You would not hesitate in seeking her out. Even if she had attacked us- even if she'd succeeded in killing Chairon and I- you would go to her. You'd want to help her. Or, at the very least, try and talk to her. I know you would, and I know that you know it too, even if you won't admit it. So why won't you allow me to do the same?"

Titus' jaw feathers with tension. Gadriel can practically hear the storm raging behind his eyes. He imagines Titus can see something similar happening behind his own eyes, too. "You know the Codex would absolutely abhor such an action," the lieutenant says quietly.

"I do," Gadriel says. "But the codex is not always right. You taught me that."

For a long time, Titus says nothing. He just stares at Gadriel. Either searching for something within the sergeant's expression or mulling over his own thoughts. Gadriel's hearts roar in his ears. The cut he'd chewed into the side of his cheek has now become an open wound. But he doesn't dare interrupt the Titus' thoughts. Right now, the lieutenant is Gadriel's only hope. By extension, that makes him Ellie's only hope.

Finally, after what feels like a century, Titus opens his mouth. "You're right," he says. "Absolutely, you are right. And as your friend, I wish I could stand by you. But I am not merely your friend, Gadriel. I am also a servant of the Emperor, and I am also your commanding officer." He trails off, but Gadriel can hear what goes unspoken. It makes his throat close over, fills his stomach with rocks. "Titus," he whispers. "Please-"

"I'm sorry, Sergeant. But there is nothing I can do."

Gadriel opens his mouth to argue, but as the first curse word leaves his mouth, the bang of a firearm makes both Astartes turn. Gadriel scoops up his helmet and makes his way over to the window. Above the city skyline, piercing the dying daylight like a sword through armoured plating, a single, scarlet light rises into the sky.

"Is that a flare?" Titus says from Gadriel's side.

Gadriel swallows thickly. There's no way... No way she still has it.

"Yes," he replies.

"But there are no other Imperial forces here."

"It's not Imperial," Gadriel mutters.

Titus looks at the sergeant, confused. It doesn't take long, though, for the pieces to fall into place. "Gadriel-"

But Gadriel is already gone. Slamming his helmet back over his head, locking its objective marker onto the location of the flare, no other thought, feeling or concern in his mind.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Feel like I'm finally cooking now XD part 3 is about to be the scene that I dreamed up that made me wanna write this story in the first place so I am SO HYPED to write it :D

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed <3

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi

[dootznbootz]

Hello, I want to ask this question but I don't want it to sound disrespectful, I really want to know and I'm not trying to be rude.

Why are Helen and Menelaus one of your OTPs? I mean, at least the versions I know Helen falls in love with Paris and willingly goes to Troy with him (but I have to say that this was told to me, I didn't read it from any legitimate source, so I could be wrong) so I'd like to know what makes you love them! And that's all, I hope you have a nice day:3

YIPPEE! :D First of all, I wanna say thank you for being polite and genuine with your ask :3 I really appreciate that you seem to be coming from a genuinely curious perspective and want to know why! I hope you have a lovely day too <3

And then~ Ima put some links to other posts of mine (AND some other lovely folks) that discuss Helen and Menelaus and the whole thing with Paris. Most have text evidence :3

I have made the ones that I think are most important to read in bold

Menelaus in the Iliad talking about how Paris stole Helen

A fantastic essay written by another Tumblr user (deactivated now. you will be missed!) that delves into the reality of Paris and Helen's relationship alongside Paris as a person

My own essay about how Odysseus and Helen play "similar roles" in their stories. I'm assuming you've found me through my Odyssey and Water Wife stuff, so you're probably an Odysseus fan so this kind of delves into how I, personally, believe that Odysseus and Helen mirror each other in many ways plot wise. So if you are also in agreement that Odysseus couldn't have cheated because cheating requires consent, Helen is basically in the same situation. Paris is just basically having Aphrodite strongarm Helen for him.

My Own personal feelings on Paris

A neat essay on how, narratively, the story fits into the themes of the whole Epic Cycle and the Iliad if Helen was actually kidnapped

Some stuff on Menelaus being a soft man in canon :3

My Own post delving somewhat into Helen's unwillingness with some text evidence

I recommend reading most of these (or at least the ones that intrigue you) and then I can chatter about these sillies below 🥹

So in canon, just for the Iliad and the Odyssey, Menelaus is often portrayed as a quiet, shy even, and I would even go so far as to call him gentle, man. (It's kind of a collective fanon headcanon that Menelaus is austistic coded based on his behavior in the texts) It's something really interesting that one of his epithet's is "War Loving" and yet, he's one of the more "peaceful" kings there.

Adrestus rolled out of the chariot beside the wheel, face down in the dirt. Menelaus, son of Atreus,                        stood there over him, holding his long-shadowed spear. Adrestus clutched Menelaus by the knees and begged: “Take me alive, son of Atreus—you’ll get good ransom. My father is a wealthy man, owns lots of things—bronze, silver, well-worked iron. So he’ll give you a splendid ransom, if he learns I’m by Achaean ships, alive.”                             Adrestus pleaded. Menelaus’s heart in his chest was moved. He was about to hand Adrestus to his attendant, to take back captive to the fast Achaean ships.           But then Agamemnon came running up to him, sharply criticizing Menelaus:  “Menelaus, you soft-hearted man, why are you sparing men’s lives like this? In your own home, Trojans treated you exceptionally well, did they not? So don’t let any one of them evade a terrible destruction at our hands— not even the young child still carried in his mother’s belly. Let no one escape.                         Let everyone in Troy be slaughtered, without pity, without leaving any trace.”    

(Book 6, Johnston)

Like the main reason WHY Menelaus is fighting this war in the first place and fighting so hard, is because he just wants Helen back. Literally the most "violent" we've seen Menelaus is, imo, during his fight with Paris, the man who kidnapped Helen and is forcing himself upon her. As he literally starts DRAGGING Paris by his helmet on the ground. And when Paris offers Treasure in place of Helen, Diomedes' declines on his (and technically all the other Achaeans') behalf as Menelaus was injured.

And if you've looked at the bolded links I put above, you'll see how Helen also desperately does not want to be there and just wants to go back home, missing Menelaus and their daughter, Hermione.

And with Helen, she literally basically tells Paris that since he would've lost the fight with Menelaus, therefore would've been killed, if not for Aphrodite, that he should kill himself because that's what's honorable.

“You’ve come back from the fight. How I wish   you’d died there, killed by that strong warrior who was my husband once. You used to boast you were stronger than warlike Menelaus,  more strength in your hands, more power in your spear. So go now, challenge war-loving Menelaus to fight again in single combat. I’d suggest you stay away. Don’t fight it out man to man with fair-haired Menelaus, without further thought. You might well die, come to a quick end on his spear.”  

(Book 3, Johnston)

I honestly fucking love how Helen straight up says to Paris' face that she wished Menelaus killed him. Deserved.

In some ways, I think Paris is a very neat contrast to Menelaus in how Paris left his wife and child behind to start a life with a new "better" wife, while Menelaus is willing to go to war to bring the wife he loves so much back home, safe and happy, with him. Menelaus can't even think of the idea of just "starting anew".

And in the Odyssey, it's just... It's just so sweet seeing how these two interact when Telemachus goes to Sparta to talk to them. Helen is no longer in tears, and while she's still dealing with her self-loathing and guilt, so does Menelaus. They share this burden together and are very gentle with each other. The way she's back to being so happy and hosting as a happy Queen and wife should, is so SO different from how we see Helen in the Iliad, as she's finally happy, safe, and at home. 😭

Like, please look at how silly these two are when they see Telemachus:

Right away she started speaking to her husband, asking him some detailed questions:                                   “Do we know, my divinely cherished Menelaus, who these two men who’ve come into our home claim to be? Shall I speak up and pretend, or shall I tell the truth? My heart tells me                            I must be frank. I can’t say I’ve ever seen                            someone who looks so much like someone else, whether man or woman. When I see it, I’m amazed—this man looks just like the son of brave Odysseus—I mean Telemachus, who, when he left home, was a new-born child, when, because I’d acted so disgracefully, you Achaeans all sailed away to Troy, your hearts intent on brutal warfare.” Fair-haired Menelaus then answered her and said: “This likeness you’ve just noticed, my dear wife,               I’ve seen, as well. His feet are similar, as are his hands, the glances from his eyes,                                              his head, and his hair on top. And just now, as I was remembering Odysseus, discussing all the troubles he’d endured because of me, he let a bitter tear fall from his eyes and raised the purple cloak across his face.”

(Book 4, Johnston)

Like??? She feels free to speak and state her mind because she IS free with Menelaus. She feels respected and loved in her own house and is the queen to his king and slkdjf kljdsfalj THEY'RE HAPPYYYYYY

In the Odyssey also, it was she who interpreted the omen that Telemachus and Pesistratus even though Menelaus was asked to interpret it! ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF HER HAPPILY BEING A QUEEN AND HER AND HER WORDS BEING RESPECTED.

Menelaus, for all his warlike qualities, was at a loss to give him the correct interpretation, and his beautiful wife forestalled him. 'Listen,' she said, 'while with such inspiration as I have I explain this omen and what I feel sure that it portends. [...]

(Book 15, E.V. Rieu)

LOOK AT EURIPIDES' HELEN

Like to me, these two in canon are kind of "opposites attract" while OdyPen are "Likeminded". As Helen is definitely one to chatter more and Menelaus is perfectly fine letting Helen talk for him.

And while young, Menelaus and Agamemnon after their father, Atreus, was killed by their uncle, they had to flee Mycenae to stay safe and were exiled. And where did they stay during this time?

In Sparta, WITH TYNDAREUS AND LEDA, HELEN'S PARENTS >:3

And with most depictions of Menelaus and Odysseus when getting married to Helen and Penelope, both are usually beardless, implying youth/same age. So I love the idea of them being childhood friends to lovers. (that's just MY interpretation though) It's part of the reason why Helen picked him out of all the suitors (though yeah, another interpretation)

AND look at this depiction of them reunitiing!!!

So for the context for this specific version/interpretation of them reuniting, he has just killed Deiphobus, Paris' brother that Helen went to after Paris died, (Troy was fated to fall, if Helen was returned, Menelaus and the other Achaeans would go home and Troy would be left alone, so... Fate interfered with Helen even possibly going home) and she was in the room when it happened. Helen, being somewhat scared that Menelaus would try to kill her, started to run. (That's Helen on the Right, the left is supposed to be Aphrodite, who, while she did keep Helen in Troy for Paris, is still the goddess of love. So that's why she's there.)

BUT LOOK HOW HE TOSSED HIS SWORD TO THE SIDE TO RUN TO HER?! 😭

In general, I love the dynamics that play into their relationship AND how their relationship even plays with other characters like OdyPen. I'm not as detailed with their lives as I am with my OdyPen, they're still heavily involved in my ideas and they're all very close. They go on double dates!

Heck, since I have the whole "childhood friends" stuff in my stuff, Helen, Menelaus, Penelope, Castor, and Deiphobus all grew up together and were kind of a goofy lil crew :3 (I have aged up Clytemnestra to work with my Agamemnon more with how I have my timeline work out :') The timeline is a mess and this is how I'm making it work)

Like, My OdyPen are my "Freak4Freak, Likeminded, ADHD, squirming, wriggling, giggling, nuzzling noses and constantly moving and chattering" couple while my MenHelen are my "Slow and relaxed, long kisses, Helen chatters while Menelaus listens, Menelaus is Helen's weighted blanket person who eases her anxiousness with his quiet demeanor, staring at each other with big eyes." couple 🥹

Snippets of my goobers being affectionate in their own special way, my OdyPen one from my one longfic and my MenHelen is just a snippet I wrote recently.

OdyPen squirm and wriggle while MenHelen stare at each other with big eyes and are each others safe place.

My dear friend, @thehelplessmortals (One of MenHelen's super fans! Check em out if you're even more curious about them! they have their own fanart and headcanons for them too!) doodled my version of the goobers being silly. My Helen is Chubby and 6'4 (Zeus' child and most beautiful woman in the world) and she likes to wrestle, and Menelaus is 6'2, she can pick him up >:3

"DAD, I WANT THIS ONE!"

Also~ Here's my list of Odyssey translations I've gathered :3 Feel free to pick one if you ever wanna read the actual text.

[jenzcoxg]

Best Friends Friend

• Renjun x f!reader

• includes/warnings: Mark is reader BEST friend, mention of readers mom, lots of laughing (not really a warning, lol), reader uses Tumblr, jerking off, spanking, slapping, unprotected sex (please just wrap the damn pp), reader makes renjun angry one (two?) times, crying,

•Requested!

•AUTHORS NOTE: I started writing this the second i saw the request . I think this is the best I have wrote so far.

You and Mark have always been good friends. His mom was friends with your mom, and you both just clicked. You both always supported each other. Mark would take care of you when you were sick, then vice versa. When he got accepted into SM, you were so happy for him.

But when he became an idol, you hardly saw him. You would go to almost all his shows to, of course, support him. Every time you would see him, all he would talk about is his members and how sweet they are.

He would take you places but his members of course had to be there too.

Coffee Shop

"So how long have you known Mark for?" Chenle asked you. You were surprised, thinking they wouldn't talk to you for some reason.

"Oh!" Your thumb tapped your cup, "Uh, a long time." An awkward smile grew across your face.

"Longer than me?" Haechan smiled at you.

"I don't know-"

"Do you sleep with socks on?" Jaemin randomly asked.

"Huh?"

"Guys, leave her alone. you're overwhelming her." Renjun added, taking another sip of his drink. You look at him, nodding as a thank you.

The Mall

"Jeno, buy me this." Haechan begged Jeno.

"Dude, just get your own damn money. You're in 127 and Dream, so you should have more money than me." Haechan rolled his eyes, you let out a small laugh.

"Wait! We should buy this and play it sometime!" Mark pointed to the shelf, Halli Galli.

A mantra of "Ohhhs" and "Ahhhs" could be heard from all of them.

"You gotta teach me how to play again, I forgot." Jisung put his shoulder around Jaemin.

"I think I beat you last time we played." He poked Jisungs chest, causing him to wince.

Looking around the shop, you couldn't really find anything until you found this adorable charm bracelet with cute little teddy bears. For some reason, you stared at it for the longest time. You eventually grab it and look at the price tag, then put it back on the shelf.

"That's cute!" You jumped as Renjun appeared from behind you, he laughed. "I saw your face when you saw the price. How much is it?"

You took it back off the shelf, "30" His eyebrows raised with surprise.

"I'll buy it for you." He offered.

"No no no you don't have to do that-"

He smiled at you. "Its fine, really, I'll get it for you. But you buy my coffee next time."

"I will!" You smiled, happy you got the bracelet.

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The more you went out with them, the more you fell for Renjun. He was like an angel. He was so pretty, his face, his body, his eyes, everything. Sometimes, when you go out with them, you will purposely sit yourself close to him or be near him. He made you feel happy and good.

Every day, you would log onto Tumblr to post about your day. Fun stuff, sad stuff, just random stories that happened throughout the day. You started to post about how you fell in love with your best friends' friend.

● mysterybunny33

Today was fun! I went shopping with my friend and his friends. So when I went to this one store, I saw this cute charm bracelet and (Let's call him, X) X bought it for me! X is my best friends' friend. X is also really funny and kind! I think I'm starting to fall in love with him...

Replies*

*starrynight12* - Omg that's so cute! I bet he's hot.

*mysterybunny33* (creator) - He is 🙀

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You started searching for renjun smut everywhere. It was like your new favorite hobby, finding a new fic to read. You read before bed, getting ready in the morning, all the time.

One day, you were at marks house, just having a fun movie marathon with him and a couple of his group members, jeno, chenle, and renjun. You had just finished a movie and everybody got up to leave. You stayed for a bit after, just to help clean up.

"Hey Mark, I gotta use the bathroom real quick." You say as you put the popcorn bag in the trash. He looked at you and nodded.

"Okay."

As you walked down the hallway, you heard a noise. At first, you thought it was Mark accidentally dropping something, but the sound came from Mark's bedroom. You walk in, confused by what you were hearing.

You heard a loud groan which startled you. You turned your head around the corner to see Renjun in Mark's shower. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing here? You quickly swung your head back around, scared he would see you.

You heard moan after moan. Was he jerking off? Why was he in Marks shower? As fast as you could, you ran out of there.

"I'm gonna go home. Bye!" You slammed the door behind you. Mark was confused about why you left in such a rush.

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*mysterybunny33*

Today was a good day! I watched movies with my friends. We had so much fun. I saw X again, but I saw him doing something, so I'm feeling a little weird. I feel dumb. Anyway, that's all!

replies

*d33zznuts* - What did you see?

*mysterybunny33* (creator) - I don't wanna tell.

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It was around 6 pm on a Friday. You were just laying in bed reading fanfiction. Ding!

You have 1 new message from Mark

Mark: Hey, do you want to come over tonight to the dreams house? Since you're not doing anything.

Y/n: Yeah, of course!

You soon got out of bed, did your hair, makeup, and got dressed, you were wearing a cute crop top with a pretty pink skirt.

It took you about 30 minutes to get there. As soon as you pull up, you see Mark running to the front door to greet you.

"Hi! We were just playing a game, if you wanna watch." You nodded in response, Mark smiles and walks back into the house.

You sat on the couch, watching them play whatever game they were invested in. All of a sudden, you felt the couch dip next to you. You turned your head to see Renjun sitting there. He was wearing a plain black shirt and gray sweatpants.

He turned to you, "I don't like that game." You hummed. "So, do you want something to drink, I can get it for you."

"I'll take water, please." He nodded and got up to go to the kitchen. You were zoned out, not really sure why you came over, they were probably just gonna play that stupid game the whole time.

"Here you go." Too deep into thought, you didn't notice Renjun handing you the water. "Hello?" You snapped your head to him

"Oh, sorry. Thank you." You took the water from his hand, taking a big gulp. You jumped when you heard Chenle yell at the game, making Renjun giggle at you.

You were there for an hour already, bored out of your damn mind. All you did was twiddle with your thumbs, drink your water, and watch them play the game for a minute or two.

Renjun was just sitting there quietly, scrolling through something on his phone. Sometimes showing you a reel or a picture he thinks you would find funny.

You got up three or four times to fill your cup with water again. Placing your glass under the faucet, filling the cup then walking back to the couch.

About 10 minutes later, you heard Mark, "Guys, let's play again!" You rolled your eyes at his words. Why did you even accept his invite? You started scrolling on your phone.

As you scrolled, you got more bored. At this point, you wanted to go home. The sudden urge of having to pee hit you like a brick.

"I'm going to use the bathroom." You ran off.

Renjun noticed your phone was still open. He wanted to get your number. He searched through apps til he finally found it. As he tapped his thumb down, he realized he pressed on the wrong app, Tumblr.

He was about to exit out of the app when something caught his eye. The number of tags you followed that said 'Renjun smut' or something similar to that was crazy. He scrolled through some, seeing you've liked them.

As you walked out of the bathroom, you noticed Renjun was gone. "Hey, where did Renjun go?" you asked.

"He said he was going up to his room." Jeno answered. You hummed.

As you sat back down, you noticed that your phone was gone. Thinking Renjun grabbed it, thinking it was his.

You walked up the stairs, seeing a door slightly ajar, you figured it was his room. As you knocked you saw him there, looking right at your phone.

"Renjun, t-thats my phone." he didn't answer you. Instead, he continued looking at it.

He got up, "sit."

"What?-"

"I said sit." confused, you sat on the edge of his bed. He went to his door to close it.

He walked back to you, "Here, take it." as he handed it to you, your stomach dropped.

"How did you find this?" you questioned. He looked at you.

"Want to read it to me?" He sat back down, this time next to you.

"No." You answered just staring at your phone.

He snatched the phone from your hand, "Renjun put his hand around your neck, squeezing till you couldn't breathe. As you gasped for air, he said, 'This is what you like, fucking slut.' He pushed into you fast, not-"

"Stop!" You try grabbing the phone from his hands but he's to fast.

"I thought I could trust you. And you go behind my back and do this? You wanted me to find out, didn't you." Your mouth was wide open. He scoffed, then put the phone on the table.

"Lay." He said. You looked at him, confused. "Are you dumb? I said lay." He meant on his lap.

As you laid down, he gripped your thigh, forcing you down.

"Can you count?" you heard him ask.

"Wha-" a loud smack was heard as Renjun slapped your ass.

"Renjun, stop." You whined. Another slap to your ass cheek.

"I don't hear you counting. Now we have to start over." you whimpered at his words. He slapped your ass cheek again.

"One."

"Good girl." another slap

"T-two." he hummed. the pain was shooting straight to your core. He slapped your ass cheek for the fifth time.

"Three." Your voiced cracked. He took a little longer than he did for the sixth slap. You slowly move your hips on his bulge. He quickly slapped your ass again.

"Don't do that. lift your hips up." You listened to him.

This time, the slap was to your cunt. You screamed.

"I don't hear counting." he said in a teasing way.

"Six?"

"Good job." he smacked your cunt 2 more times before he stopped. "Now get up." You slowly got up, standing in front of him.

"Take your clothes off for me, yeah?" not wasting any time, you started to undress. He watched carefully. "So pretty, just for me." He stood up.

Renjun grabs your shoulders and pushes you to the nearest wall. He starts kissing you, everywhere. On your forehead, cheek, neck, collarbone. He lifted his head to kiss you on the lips.

He didn't let go. He tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Your tongues clashed together. He bit your bottom lip, making you whimper. Renjun put his knee in between your legs, lifting you up so he can carry you.

You could feel his bulge when he lifted you. He gently put you on the bed. "Stay there." He said before he started to undress.

As he takes off his boxers, you finally see him, all of him. He was huge. He moved back to the bed, getting on top of you.

"Wait, flip over." You flipped onto your stomach. Renjun put two fingers in his mouth, getting them wet. You slightly jumped as you felt his cold fingers graze your cunt, coating it with his spit.

"You ready baby?" He asked. You nodded. "I need words baby."

"Y-yes." you whined.

Before you knew it, he slammed his hips into yours, not giving you any time to adjust to his size.

"Oh fuck, baby, you're so fucking tight. Just for me, hmm?" He spanked your ass.

"Yes, mhm, fuck." you let out. He let out a teasing laugh.

The way your hips were hitting each other created wet noises. He tightens his grip on your waist to go faster. The little grunts that came out of his mouth were so pretty.

"You're so pretty. I have had a thing for you ever since I first saw you-fuck- I love you." The words that came out of his mouth were surprising to you, but at the same time, so sweet.

"I also know you saw me jerking off in Mark's shower. I saw your head peak the corner." He confessed. You giggled.

"Renjun, I'm close." You whined, moaning as he hit that one spot over and over again.

"Me too baby. Can you hold it for me?"

"Y-yes."

You needed to release so badly. It was hard when he told you that. You couldn't hold it anymore. With a couple more thrusts, you came undone around him.

"You're so perfect baby and- oh my god, did you just cum?" He asked, you whimpered in response.

"Flip over."

You were now facing him. Your legs were burning at this point.

A harsh slap landed on you cunt, you screamed.

"That's what you get for not listening." he pushed back into you with no warning again.

He spread your legs as far as they could go, to go deeper.

His thrusts had gotten sloppier. "Fuck, baby. I'm gonna cum-" his hot liquid shot right into you.

Tears ran down your cheeks as he flipped you both to where you were on top of him.

"Oh, baby, you're so sweet to me." He ran his fingers up and down your back.

"Do you want anything?" He asked.

"Water." Your raspy voice made him chuckle.

He laid you on the bed so he could get up. tired, you fell asleep. Renjun looked at you and smiled. He put on his shorts and shirt, then walked out the door.

As he walked down the stairs he heard clapping.

"The Huang Renjun has finally done it." Jeno yelled from the couch.

"Shut up." Renjun rolled his eyes.

Mark got up to go to the kitchen where Renjun was.

"Yo, dude, if you wanted to fuck my friend, why didn't you say so." Mark grabbed a bag of chips from the cupboard.

Renjun grabbed a glass, filled it up, and grabbed a cloth from the drawer.

"Too late. She's mine now." Renjun smiled.

"I knew you liked her." Jaemin said.

"Yeah, like when you bought her all that stuff." Jeno added.

Renjun blushed. He's so lucky to have someone like you.