#they turn their head the same moment the same direction

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 9

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

It felt like forever. He knew it wasn't. It must have been minutes until the car door was ripped open and Charles slipped in right next to him.

It wasn’t until the doors were slammed shut behind Charles that Max dared to look at the Monégasque.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight. Charles was still in his racing suit just as him, the suit itself streaked with sweat.

The moment the car door closed, the car started riving.

"Merde," Charles cursed. Max could only agree. "I am sorry, that it took this long."

Max gave a sharp, jerky shake of his head. "You don’t have to apologize," he somehow managed to get the words out. "I’m just..." he trailed off, a shaky exhale escaping him. "How could you make it here so fast?" he asked, casting a quick glance in his friend’s direction.

Charles snorted. "Your press officer had a shouting match with Ferrari's,“ he said simply.

If Max wasn’t so focused on not completely losing it, he might’ve been amused with the mental image. But at the moment, he could only shake his head.

Next to him, Charles let out a sigh. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"No. You?" he gave back.

"I don't have a bad feeling," Charles said quietly. “Not worse than it has been for days at least.”

Twin Telepathy was apparently a thing as far as Charles and Colette were concerned. 

Quite frankly, till this day, it still weirded Max out. They just seemed to know when the other one wasn't feeling well. 95% of the time, they got sick at the same time. They communicated more easily with each other than with anyone else, and regardless of what game they played...they needed to be put on opposite teams, because otherwise nobody had a chance against them.

Max was well aware of Colette and Charles' strange connection. Even if he didn’t fully understand it. They both had some sort of sixth sense when it came to the other one, and it sometimes felt like they were talking in secret code.

"What’s it telling you right now?" he asked, his voice barely above a rough whisper.

Charles turned to him fully at that, and Max saw the way his eyes swept over him, taking in every aspect of his appearance.

Max could only imagine what Charles was seeing. He felt like a walking wreck, and there was no doubt his appearance was mirroring that.

"Colette is in pain," Charles finally said, his voice strangely quiet. "She’s scared."

That answer felt like somebody shoved a knife into Max’s stomach. He inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat. “Of course, she is,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Charles seemed to sense what he was thinking, even without being telepathically connected through whatever the hell Colette and him had going on. The Monégasque reached out and took a firmer hold of his hand, the grip almost crushing.

"Don’t," Charles said firmly, his voice leaving no room for arguments. "Don’t go there. We’re gonna get to her as fast as we can."

There was a brief moment of silence, as Max tried to collect himself. He focused all his attention on the pressure of Charles' hand on his, and somehow, it actually helped.

"I feel so goddamn useless," he finally admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to be with her."

"You want to try calling her before we are in the air?" Charles suggested.

That was not a bad idea, not at all. Max let out a low and slightly shaky exhale, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I…” he had to stop and clear his throat. “Yeah, I’ll try to call her.”

His hands were shaking when he pulled out his phone out of the backpack that somebody had handed off to him, already packed. Regardless of all the drama that had gone on in the RedBull garage during the year… if it really mattered, the people in there pulled off minor miracles.

Within minutes, his entire day - hell, his entire week - had been packed for him, with all the essentials of clothes and everything else he would need.

He had almost forgotten about the phone in his shaking hands, but now he just stared at the screen for a moment. His fingers were trembling so badly that just unlocking the phone was a challenge in itself.

Jimmy and Sassy were on his lockscreen...a picture that Colette had once sent him when he had been away for one of his races...the two of them laying on top of her on their couch...

Every other time Max saw the photo, it made his heart do a little funny jump. Now though, it made his chest ache. It felt like a sharp stabbing pain, and for a moment, he just sat there and stared at the picture.

Then he called her.

It rang. And it rang, and it rang again. With each passing second, that horrible knot in his stomach tightened a little more. With every ring of the bell, it got harder to breathe.

Finally, to Max’s immense and enormous relief, the line connected.

"Hey, Maxie. I put you on speaker," Victoria's voice came over the phone, sounding surprisingly calm.

A shiver of something resembling dread ran through Max, at the sound of Victoria’s voice. But he pushed past the feeling.

His thoughts were once again running wild - was it a bad sign that Colette wasn’t the one speaking to him? Or was he just overreacting..?

“Hey,” he forced the word out past the lump in his throat. "How are you feeling?" he asked, pleading for Colette's voice. Was it selfish that he just wanted to hear her tell him that everything was going to be okay?

"Better now," Colette's voice came, sounding slightly hoarse.

The words were like a shot of adrenaline, and for a moment, Max actually felt a little lightheaded. “Liefje.” He closed his eyes, just hearing her voice sending another wave of relief through him. “Are you okay? How is Bébé?”

"Bébé has decided that they would rather be born today, so I would suggest you hurry up," Victoria said drily.

"Seems like the kid already inherited Max's need for speed," Charles quipped. "How are you doing, Coco?"

"I'm good," Colette's voice replied, and Max could only imagine the eye-roll that was currently happening. He knew his girlfriend, and he had no doubt that she had been glaring at Victoria ever since the phone was put on speaker.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice suddenly turning much softer. "You're coming, right?"

"Coming," he assured her, his heart aching. "We're coming, I promise."

"I know. I’m not worried." She sounded like she meant it, but Max could easily imagine the anxiety in her eyes.

"You'd better not worry," Charles said, and then added, "I’m keeping him from doing anything dumb."

Max shot Charles a dirty look at that, bt he swallowed down the annoyed protest and focused back on Colette instead. “Just…hold on a little longer, okay?”

"It's not like I can go anywhere else," Colette replied, her voice slightly amused. "I’ll keep our little speed demon in there a little lo...." She broke off and let out a quiet hiss of pain, her voice once again cut off by what Max suspected to be a particularly painful contraction.

“Colette,” he said sharply, all kinds of emotions washing over him, one by one. “Liefje, just…just breathe through it, okay?”

There was a second of panting, then, he heard her take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” she finally said. “Just…hurts like hell.”

He swallowed and clenched his free hand tightly into a fist, fighting against the urge to just jump out of the car and start running towards the airport.

Colette being in pain was not something he could deal with.

He heard her take a few more deep breaths, and he just sat there, waiting and listening and feeling absolutely useless.

"How long until you get here?" she asked after a moment, her voice breathless. He could see her in his mind, his sweet girl, sitting on the bed and clutching her belly as another contraction hit her.

"We're not even at the airport yet," he told her, and damn it, why were his eyes suddenly burning. "We’ll get there as soon as we can, okay? Just...hold on a little longer."

"What your dad said..." Colette said with a shaky voice.

"I know," he said simply, the grief raw in his voice. Neither of them were ever really going to get over the two babies they had lost. They had learnt to live with the pain, they had dealt with the heartbreak an grief...but it was always going to be scar for them.

"Max, if something…" she began, her voice a little wobbly. He could tell that she was crying, by the way her breathing got a little more hitched and ragged.

But she suddenly cut off and gasped, letting out an even breath. Another contraction..."Hey, nothing is gonna happen," he quickly said, trying to soothe her. "Nothing. I'll be there soon. I'll be there before you know, and our child will meet their parents. We will be fine, we will get through this. You, and me. Together."

"If something happens," Colette continues. "If..."

"No," he cut her off, the word coming out as a growl. "Nothing is gonna happen. You will not talk that way. You’re going to deliver a gorgeous and healthy baby, and I won’t hear anything else."

"Max..." she protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said firmly, putting as much steel in his voice as he could. "You will be fine. Our baby will be fine, and I will be there soon and I will hold your hand and you can threaten to geld me and all of it will be okay. Just breathe.” 

He could hear the sound of her breathing, deep and even. She was trying to steady it, and Max gripped his phone tighter. He didn’t know if he was trying to hold himself together, or if he was trying to hold on to the sound of her voice.

The seconds ticked by, and then another contraction hit, and he heard her gasp out another ragged breath. Max felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin. The idea of her in pain was like an invisible knife twisting a little deeper in his gut, each time.

"We need to go," Charles said suddenly. "We need to get into the plane." The car slowed down at that moment. "Coco, listen to me. I am going to be absolutely fucking furious with you if something happens to you," Charles told her fiercely. 

"Trust me," Colette’s voice said, sounding slightly tired. "I am very, very motivated to stay alive."

That was good. That was a good sign. If she was still being sarcastic and even a little bit cheeky…it was good.

"Just hold on," he told her again, the familiar feeling of helplessness seeping into his bones. "Just keep hanging on, for me. I love you."

“I love you too,” the words were as immediate and as fast as the sunrise each morning. "Hurry up, dammit."

"I’m trying," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I’m trying. We’re at the airport now. We’ll get there as fast as we can-" he had to stop, when he heard her let out another pained gasping sound, as another contraction clearly hit her hard.

“Goddamn,” he exclaimed, all of his muscles tense with the urge to do something. He wanted to help her, he wanted to be there to comfort her…but more than anything,  he was terrified of losing her. "Liefje, just keep breathing, okay? Breathe and stay calm."

"I’m trying to," her voice was breathless, and he knew that she was probably trying hard to fight the urge to cry out. Oh God, he hated that. He hated seeing her in pain, he loathed feeling this utterly useless.

"Go. Love you," she told him.

"I love you," he told her emphatically, wanting to say something more, but then Charles impatiently gestured at him to hurry up and get out of the car. "I...I’ll see you soon, okay? Just hang on, okay?"

"Yeah," he could tell that she was trying even harder to control her voice, trying to put on a calm and steady front for his benefit. "Just..." she cut off and let out a gasp, another contraction evidently hitting her hard. "...just hurry up before this baby decides to make their way out before you arrive, okay?"

"I will," he promised through gritted teeth. "I will, goddammit, I will, just…hang on."

He heard Colette’s pained panting, and each of her breaths was like a stab in the gut.He hated having to hang up on her

Everything in him rebelled at that. How could he, how could he possibly abandon her like that, how could he let her take on this pain and fear all by herself, without him there to hold her hand...but goddamnit, he had no choice.

He took a shuddering breath and pushed past the urge to scream, to slam his fist into something, anything. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from the desperate need to get to her, to overwhelming panic, to anger at the universe for forcing them apart and for putting her through this pain.

Into the plane they went…it was probably the shortest amount of time between entering a plane and taking off Max had ever experienced. 

Before too long they were up in the air, flying towards Nice.

The minutes ticked by, each one passing by like a century. Max would sit in restless agitation at his seat, his mind racing back and forth. Every thought and memory came back to Colette. He just wanted to be at her side, he just wanted everything to be okay…

And instead he would be stuck on this plane for 6 hours.

He would be stuck on this goddamn plane for six hours. Six hours, each one of them filled with the knowledge that the love of his life was giving birth to their child, and he was not there to support her, to hold her hand and reassure her that everything was okay.

It was driving him absolutely insane. He couldn’t take it, he just wanted to be there, with her. He could vividly picture her, sitting in the hospital bed and gripping the rails, her face screwed up in pain as she fought through another contraction. And he was not there to comfort her.

"Maman is with her. Your sister is with her. Lorenzo and Arthur too." Charles said at that moment. “We aren't there but everybody else is."

"How can you be this calm?" Max asked him, dragging a hand through sweat damp hair.

"Don't mistake calm for not being worried," Charles said evenly, his eyes tracking Max's restless pacing of the plane. "I am worried. For her, for you and for the little one. But freaking out isn't gonna do anyone any favours right now."

"I know,” Max said, his voice still strangled tight with stress. He just couldn't get any of the images out of his mind - her struggling and fighting her way through the pain, looking more vulnerable and pale than he had ever seen her...and he was not there.

“Besides, I shouted at Ferrari’s PR and got it out of my system, so currently, I am feeling quite calm.” Charles said darkly. “I imagine that’s going to change again when I am sure that Colette and the baby are alright.”

Max just stared at him. Charles had done what?

If there was a religion that Charles Leclerc believed in then it was Ferrari.

Charles Leclerc was their golden boy. Their Il Predestinato. There was no good-natured fobbing to be had about Ferrari regardless of what issues there had been had through the years, and there had been a lot.

Charles worshipped Ferrari like a malevolent goddess. He didn’t want to hear any criticism of his team and Max had given up on that a very long time ago. 

Charles and Colette both could be the most stubborn people Max had ever match. The only one who could match their stubbornness were each other. 

"You did what?" Max stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Charles was an absolute Ferrari fan and loyal to the very core…why the hell would he yell at the PR people?

"Why...? What did they do?"

"They weren't even going to tell me that something was wrong with Colette," Charles said darkly. "I knew it. I knew that something was off. But they didn't say anything. It was one of Red Bull's PR Staff that got me out of the cooldown room. Ferrari wouldn't have said anything to me. Ferrari didn't want me to leave either. They wanted to debrief, they wanted me to give interviews,"

Max had to resist the urge to swear. He had been so focused on the fact that he was not with Colette that he hadn't even processed the fact that Ferrari had actually kept her labour a secret from Charles, simply to make him stay and do his goddamn job for them.

"You know that that is not normal, right?" he asked him drily. "I am not telling you that everything is perfect at Red Bull but Christian would never fucking stand for that."

"You know I never expected it," Charles told him, his mouth a thin hard line. "We are the drivers. We are the stars. But we come second. First and foremost, we are assets to the team. What Ferrari wants, Ferrari gets. We drive, we get podiums, we hold the trophies, and we smile for the cameras. Everything else comes second. It doesn’t matter to them. To them, only the trophies matter. "

"That's what they want," Max told him, anger seeping into his voice. "But that's not how it should be. Ferrari is wrong. If something is wrong with your loved ones, they have no right to keep it from you like that. Especially not for the sake of a goddamn interview."

"I know," Charles said, his lips thin with bitterness. "But there's not much I can do about it, is there? We may be the top drivers on the grid, but we drive the car that the teams give us. There's only so much that we can do when the team has power over pretty much every aspect of our career. And believe me, I am going to pay a fucking price for doing what I did. I just don't care at all. It's Colette," he said sharply. "I love all my siblings. I do. I love Lorenzo and Arthur. I would do everything for them. But they aren't my twin. They aren't the second half of me," Charles said simply. "Ferrari be damned."

Max hadn't thought that he was ever going to hear these words out of Charles' mouth but here they were.

"What the fuck did Jos say by the way? What did Coco mean?" Charles demanded.

"He gave an interview to Sky Sports," Max said, fury still embering deep in his gut.

"Of course he did." Charles said, not sounding surprised at all. "What did he say?"

"Confirmed the relationship...and the pregnancy," Max said clenching his teeth. "And if that wasn't enough...he made a...comment about how it had taken us long enough to have a baby."

There was a sharp indrawn breath as Charles absorbed that. "...What?" Charles said after a moment, his voice strangled. "...he made that comment in public? Are - are you serious?"

"I never told him about the two...miscarriages," Max said quietly. "I couldn't deal with whatever well meant advice he was going to have...but I...We lost two babies," Max said weakly. "My father went out there and confirmed our relationship and the pregnancy without talking to either of us. He just made that decision because it's "ridiculous" that we kept it a secret for so long. An it’s making me furious. This wasn't his decision to make. This was ours."

"Yes," Charles said, his jaw clenching. "It was. Your decision. Nobody else’s. He had absolutely no right to do that. Goddamn it, I have never liked that man, but I've never had the urge to punch him as much as I do this very moment."

"You and me both," Max said. The anger he was feeling would have been burning through him like a damn inferno if he hadn't been so worried about Colette.

"This should have come from us," Max repeated quietly. "Not from anybody else."

"It still can come from you," Charles said.

Max paused, looking up at him. "Are you saying we should..." he began uncertainly.

"You want to tell the entire world that you love my sister and that she is having your baby? You have an Instagram account and a phone with an internet connection," Charles said drily. "Tell them the truth. Your truth."

Max opened his mouth and then closed it again. Charles had a point. It was obvious what the news was going to be now if people had seen Jos's interview.

But he wanted to be the one to tell the world. He wanted it to be on his terms. He wanted it to be public but on his public terms. Not his father's.

"Are you ever going to ask my sister to marry you?" Charles asked him suddenly.

The question caught him completely off guard. "...What?" He said blankly, stunned by the change of the conversation.

"You gave her a ring when you were both 18 that you both insisted was only a promise ring," Charles said drily. "Are you ever going to replace it with the real thing?"

He thought back to that ring that still sat on Colette's finger to this day. A simply gold band with a tiny heart-shaped diamond.

He had given it to her in 2016, after his very first Grand Prix win in Spain. He had gone out and bought it that very same day to be exact.

He had bought Victoira a handbag the first time he had scored his championship points...but the first time he had won...he had bought Colette that ring.

"Apparently the baby is only going to have your surname too, because you have an agreement," Charles continued. "Do I actually want to know what that agreement was?"

"We were 18. Both our father's would have probably killed us, if we came to them and told them that we were engaged," Max said with a sigh. The Leclerc's had always been supportive of their relationship but Hervè Leclerc had very much thought that both Colette and him were far too young to get married. 

Jos on the other hand...Max didn't even want to imagine that screaming fit.  "So I gave her that ring and we agreed that..."

"You agreed that..." Charles repeated slowly, silently urging him to continue.

Max let out a deep sigh and dragged a hand through his already messy hair, mussing it up even more. "We agreed that we didn't really need a piece of paper to tell us what we already knew," he said simply. "Colette and I had been together for 6 years at that point, we already knew and accepted that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. It was just a matter of when. So we decided that we didn't need a damn piece of paper to know that we were committed to each other. We already knew that, without a doubt," Max said simply. "It was a promise ring. To love and to cherish, till death us do part. One day we would do it properly, but till then...that ring was a promise."

Charles stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You have been married to my sister for 10 years?" he asked him sharply.

Max winced. Okay. Put like that, it sounded kinda bad. "We never had the actual wedding," he said sheepishly. "We both know it wasn't necessary for us, so...we kinda just...never got around to it."

"I mean, I did ask your father for her hand in marriage when it was clear that he wasn't going to be there...when we eventually did it properly...but...for us that ring was… It was more than enough," Max said quietly. "I knew damn well that I would be with her for the rest of my life. She knew it. We both knew it. And that ring was a symbol between us that sealed the deal. We both knew that it was going to be for forever and always. It was a promise. A promise to always stay by each other’s side. No matter how badly things fell apart around us. No matter how much the world wanted to tear us to apart. We were going to stay together, come hell or high water. We didn't need a paper to prove that to us or the rest of the world," Max said firmly.

Charles stared at him for a couple of long moments, processing this. Max was well aware that, from an outside perspective, it might sound weird. That they had been so young, but so utterly certain that they were going to spend their lives together.

But he and Colette had been together for years. And he had seen how strongly they had bonded over the years, seen what they had been able to deal with as a team, as one, and how they had come through every single thing that the life had thrown at them together.

"You two are utterly ridiculous," Charles finally said drily. "You didn't get engaged because as far as you two were concerned you already got married years ago."

Max winced a little bit and couldn't really refute it. If he were to be honest, he'd have admit it did sound utterly ridiculous, when Charles spelled it out like that.

But that just...that was how badly they had known right from the very beginning that this was it for them. They didn't need a piece of paper to tell them what they already knew.

"I'll ask her properly," he promised Charles. "I already got the ring. But Colette doesn't want to overshadow Lorenzo and Charlotte and I knew that she wasn't going to want to have a big party while pregnant so I figured I would just wait."

Charles was slightly taken aback by his words, before he gave a small smile. "She'll definitely say yes, you know," he said, the corner of his eyes crinkling with affection.

Max smiled in return. His heart ached with the thought of her. "I hope so," he said quietly, feeling like there was a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. "I really, really hope so."

[mimipolo]

Nam-gyu x reader

I've only seen like two people write for him and I'm desperate 💔

It was the same old thing everyday. Hollering at people to come to the bar he worked. Fake smiles and bitter humour became the norm. He wasn't surprised with how things turned out, not like he cared to try and neither did his folks.

It was another Friday night, but tonight was different since he wasn't working today, that meant no hassling for customers. Some time just to himself. He wondered what he could do to pass the time, maybe a change of scenery, away from the bar and the thrum of music that ached his bones on those long nights.

But the lifestyle was already too deeply engrained in him, it was like a second home at this point and honestly where else would he go? He couldn't imagine using his money for anything other than to pay his rent or get his regular fix. The evolution from bummy cigarettes to actual drugs seemed so far away he can't remember when it began, it's not like he went out of his way to find it. He was content with the cheap stuff, but with work like this he should've expected how it'd eventually turn out. He tried to convince himself he hated it, that he only did it for the sake of his image but he knew better, he knew he got off the high and the one easiest to blame other than himself was Thanos. As he walked towards the bar he let out a sharp scoff as the man slipped into his mind, he was funny, entertaining but as bad an influence as any other.

He slows as the neon lights came into view, sighing as he picks a cigarette from a packet in his back pocket and easily lights it. Taking a long drag as he stares ahead, tempted to go in but something else repells him. For the moment he just hangs outside, just by the door of a small convenience store where most went to get a quick meal after a couple of drinks. His head unconsciously perks up at the sound of the convenience store doors bell ringing as a customer walks out and he has to take a double take to make sure he wasn't imagining it, wiping the cigarette smoke from his face to get a clearer look. The person of interest only seems to recognise him as they walk down the stairs and are about to make a turn to walk in his direction. Stopping dead in their tracks as they make direct eye contact eyes as wide as his. Yeah it was her.

Spluttering slightly as he continues to wave his arm to clear the smoke before swiftly butting his cigarette on the brick wall. A coyish smile on his face as he steps towards her, rocking on the balls of his feet.

"Been a while huh?"

He'd been friends with you for years knowing each other from highschool to the end of college, he couldn't be asked to go to uni, you didn't seem surprised but the disappointment on your face was clear. It almost made him back out.

Considering all this he'd say you two have a good length of history together, memories too. One memory he could never seem to shake was in the second year of college.

It was lunchtime and he had come to your classroom to sit and bother you as usual. You knew the routine. He was ranting on about some guy that he claimed to be an "arrogant dick", talking your ear off as he faced you completely, his leg knocking into yours occasionally to catch your attention when he got to certain parts, he was content with you humming your acknowledgement as you ate your food. But then he suddenly stops mid story, making your head perk up confused. He smirked proudly finally knowing you were actually listening to his dumb stories after all before it solemned slightly.

"What do you think?" He said almost mumbling, tucking his hair behind his ear, a habit of his you found endearing.

"Think of...what?" You had said back mid bite of your food, staring into his eyes, a bit too deeply, so he ran his hand over his face with a sigh.

"...Of me." His voice quieter now, looking ahead instead of at you, he could sense your judging gaze without looking. He remembers how his heart pounded and his hands felt clammy.

"Of you?" You hummed in thought, placing down your food as you looked at his side profile, unimpressed with how he refused to look back at you. You had sighed before answering, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, "You're nice, when you're not with your friends, I like you more when it's just us." Is all you had said before returning to eating.

He couldn't forget how genuinely taken back by your words he felt, his hair moving with his head as it snapped towards you expectantly. You only give him a pleased side glance as you chuckle and shrug slightly, refusing to let him have a deeper insight to your words. And being immature as he was back then he never figured it out and even now he wonders if he'd figured it out. He wonders even now as he stands opposite you after three, almost four years, if you'd still be interested in an "us".

You chuckle softly, an undertone of disbelief as you step forward him with a small smile on your lips as you finally recognise him. Huffing again in shock, the cold air condensing and forming white clouds with each exhale.

"Nam-gyu? It's been so long I didn't think I'd see you again?" There's a gladness to see him in your words, in your expression and he can't deny the fact it made him feel better about himself.

"Yeah...we never really saw each other again after you left for uni and stuff." He muttered awkwardly, he wanted to seem more confident, it was embarassing to realise he'll probably never be able to look you in the eyes if he's not rambling about something stupid."How was it?"

You sink further into the warmth of your jacket as you answer the question, "It was fun, had all the experiences I missed out on and got my papers." He can't help but chuckle alongside you, even if he's sharing your joy three years too late. "What about you Nam, what are you up to?"

His heart seemed to lift at the familiar nickname, one that you had decided him worthy of on a random Tuesday afternoon in your third year of high school. He didn't care for when others used it but when it was you, and after so long? He could already feel his ears growing hotter as he chuckles again as he tucks his hair behind them.

"Ah...ha, just working ya know." He pursed his lips, he didn't want you to know where he worked, after all your scolding of how he "had potential" but any drive he had left with mum when she abandoned him with his grandma after his dad's death. All of a sudden he was itching for another drag of that cigarette he had just snubbed out. Sucking it up with a slight smile as he gestured awkwardly behind him. "I, uh actually work here, at the bar."

You only nodded, understandingly it seemed, but his gaze wavers at how your eyebrows draw together slightly, he knew what you were thinking but he wasn't ready to confront that, not now. "I wouldn't recommend you come by though." He sighed as he rubbed his hands together, trying to seem as unbothered as he could. He honestly didn't want you near this place, or getting involved with the people in it. He was only here because the pay was good enough and he couldn't think of anywhere else to apply, maybe, just maybe if he had looked around. Sucked up his pride and asked you for advice he wouldn't be stuck in this place. But it was far too late to be considering that now.

He watches as you tilt your head at his warning before shrugging slightly "Not my scene anyway." He was grateful you didn't pry, it was too soon and too late to explain everything at once.

Now that the awkward introductions were over he had the mind to look at you more closely. He knew he found you pretty before but now you'd grown to be beautiful, round features, now more defined by age and experience, illuminated by the gentle glow of the store lights. His staring a drastic change to his demeanor before, he wonders if you notice the slight changes in him too. In his own honest opinion he's only grown taller and you've apparently stayed the same, he bites back a smirk once he notices, tucking his hands in his pockets as he snorts. And like you knew what he was thinking you scoff and roll your eyes. The situation felt all too familiar.

Suddenly you step closer nudging his arm with yours as you look him up and down questionably, "You're not as touchy as you used to be the old you would've been slung over me by now." He only scoffs as you giggle to yourself at the memories, feeling fairly embarassed, and even more so because he knew he had to mentally tell himself not to when he officially recognised it was you in front of him.

"Yeah? Well I grew up." He says sarcastically pushing his hair behind his ear as he stands taller earning another laugh from you which rings nostalgically in his ears. He wonders if the either of you even grew up. You were still connected by the memories after all, is that the same concept allowed for feelings? He felt selfish for entertaining the thought, but for now he was happy to see your face again, it was a breath of fresh air from the constant buzz of his life. A life he felt he could leave behind if you stayed as close as you were now.

[quailfence]

[Image description taken from alt: Image 1: Jekyll stands at a table holding a loose sheaf of papers, which he looks down at as he speaks. “This diary… has been most elucidating, I will not deny. It certainly explains the attacks of a few years ago, but not the most recent attacks.” Offscreen, Irene asks, “Why not?” Image 2: Jekyll raises his index finger as he replies, “That greenish substance, for one. You mentioned it was found on the wreckage of these attacks, but the good professor makes no mention of it—only of an electric light, which would leave no such residue.” Image 3: A shot of Irene and Mina, seated at the same table, both looking in Jekyll’s direction with wide-eyed expressions. Mina has one hand on Irene’s back in a comforting gesture. Irene says, “A light—! I thought I saw one beneath the water during the storm, when we were trying to find…” She trails off. Mina adds, “Please, Dr. Jekyll, tell us all you can.” Image 4: A shot of Jekyll in profile. He sighs and says, “Very well. As you suspected, Mrs. Norton, there is far more to Professor Aronnax’s journey than he has shared publicly, beginning from the moment he was lost overboard.” Image 5: A flashback to a scene from the diary. Professor Aronnax, Conseil, and Ned Land stand in a group, their hair bedraggled from seawater. Nemo stands in the foreground with his back to the viewer, looking at the three of them. Ned, a tall, broad-shouldered white man with large sideburns and a kerchief tied around his neck, glares angrily at Nemo, standing protectively in front of Aronnax and Conseil. Conseil looks wary, while Aronnax appears starstruck. Over the scene, Jekyll narrates: “They were saved in an extraordinary fashion—brought aboard a vessel that travels under the sea. The captain, who called himself ‘Nemo’, was… a queer fellow, with many secrets. He refused to release them, lest the secret of his existence be discovered.” Image 6: A shot of Griffin, leaning on the table in a manner that suggests his head is propped up on his hand. His other hand fidgets with a pencil. He says, “A submarine! The old man’s less dull than I thought! How’d he get away, after all that?” Jekyll responds from offscreen, “He released them, though not until after seriously endangering their lives.” Image 7: Another flashback to a diary scene. Aronnax, looking confused and upset, stares at Captain Nemo, who has his back turned to Aronnax. Nemo’s eyes are closed, and his expression is pained and regretful. Jekyll narrates over the scene: “The three men were treated well—the professor most of all. Yet while voyaging near the South Pole, the ship became trapped under the ice, and the professor nearly suffocated. The captain became moody and avoided their company; then without explanation, freed them on an island off the coast of South America.” End description.]

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Start reading Episode 1

Dialogue transcripts:

Panel 1

Jekyll: This diary… has been most elucidating, I will not deny. It certainly explains the attacks of a few years ago, but not the most recent attacks.

Irene (offscreen): Why not?

Panel 2

Jekyll: That greenish substance, for one. You mentioned it was found on the wreckage of these attacks, but the good professor makes no mention of it—only of an electric light, which would leave no such residue.

Panel 3

Irene: A light—! I thought I saw one beneath the water during the storm, when we were trying to find…

Mina: Please, Dr. Jekyll, tell us all you can.

Panel 5

Panel 4

Jekyll: *sigh* Very well. As you suspected, Mrs. Norton, there is far more to Professor Aronnax’s journey than he has shared publicly, beginning from the moment he was lost overboard.

Jekyll, narrating: They were saved in an extraordinary fashion—brought aboard a vessel that travels under the sea. The captain, who called himself ‘Nemo’, was… a queer fellow, with many secrets. He refused to release them, lest the secret of his existence be discovered.

Panel 6

Griffin: A submarine! The old man’s less dull than I thought! How’d he get away, after all that?

Jekyll: He released them, though not until after seriously endangering their lives.

Panel 7

Jekyll, narrating: The three men were treated well—the professor most of all. Yet while voyaging near the South Pole, the ship became trapped under the ice, and the professor nearly suffocated. The captain became moody and avoided their company; then without explanation, freed them on an island off the coast of South America.

[s1lu3s]

PILLOWTALK, xavier.

warnings: suggestive content +18, sexsomnia, fingering, masturbation, fem!oc, no protection, nipple play. pairing: xavier x y/n. notes: i honestly feel that this situationship could fit with him since he always keeps sleeping… as always, reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated <3 i also wanted to thank you for the support on my first shot, ily sm, hope you also like this one 😭 credits for the banner of mdni to roseschoices.

Sleeping with Xavier is full of surprises, you never know what you might get. Because in the same way that he can be totally still while resting, he can also be more clingy.

It's amazing how even when asleep he seeks physical contact with you.

Today you find yourself in that specific situation.

After you had a quiet dinner at home, you went straight to sleep.

The case of the wanderer you had to deal with today left him totally exhausted. You aren’t so much, but because he always insists on overprotecting you, so you barely had to do anything more than watch out for the safety of the citizens circulating around and prevent them from approaching the battle scene.

You wake up the moment you feel a soft breath near you. Then, you feel an arm around your waist.

“Xavier?” you call out softly, but you get no response. Instead, you feel his body pressing yours against the bed, so you can't turn around to see the man on top of you.

“Hmn.” His lips land on your neck and he begins to move down to your shoulder leaving wet kisses that make you shiver in pleasure.

“Xav, you don't have to do this…” you murmur, wanting to let him know that he should stop before the situation goes any further.

You hear an incoherent response from him as he slides his hands under your shirt until he finds your nipples to pinch and pull them.

“You!-” but immediately your words are silenced by the warmth of his touch.

Grabbing you by the hips again, he turns you to be on his side, pulling you closer to his body so that you are able to feel the growing bulge in his pants in your back.

Again, he starts kissing your shoulder, moving up to your neck, sucking gently, licking and nibbling your skin with pampering, gradually raising your body temperature.

“Uh, Xavier…” you whimper, leaning your head on his shoulder, letting him do it for you and melting for the soft caresses your man is giving you at this moment. “Please...” You change your mind. You need him everywhere.

Only he can provoke this effect on you. And so only he can solve it.

One of his hands tugs at your tank top while the other slips between your pants, also pushing down to get rid of them.

His fingers go to your neglected and needy slit, pressing gently before sliding them into you in a single gesture. You let out a loud moan at his sudden movement that has unleashed a thunderstorm throughout your body.

His other hand doesn't stop squeezing, circling, pulling and kneading one of your breasts, occasionally tugging on your nipple and making you shiver.

Xavier's lips drown your mind in a deep well full of obscene, greedy and lustful thoughts that you don't want to come out of.

You feel how he curves his fingers inside you, hitting the same spot over and over again with slow thrusts. You close your eyes as you feel your walls squeeze his fingers, squeezing hard as he doesn't cease ramming you.

“Xav, Xav, please, please, don't stop. I'm about to...” you mumble, your breathing ragged and your legs are shaking.

And so he never stops. He continues to push his fingers deep inside you, twisting, curving, and moving them in his direction. Pressing your clit and doing it in slow circles. His hands do not stop giving you caresses that make you melt inside, soaking his hand and the sheet. His lips don't leave your neck either.

He turns you around and stands over you, leaning on one of his elbows for balance while still holding his left hand between your legs, keeping pushing.

Before you can say anything again, he pulls his other hand away, tugs his pants down and in one move he slides inside you, replacing his fingers. You wrap your legs around his waist, adjusting to the cadence of his thrusts, and cradle his face to kiss him.

That's when you notice that his eyes are closed. But you don’t know if…

“Xavier?” You call out again, this time your voice oscillates between a scream or a moan, but you are immediately observed by a pair of blue orbs as beautiful as a whole galaxy. “Were you...?”

“My dear little star.” He murmurs before silencing your whimpers by sealing your mouth with his, continuing with his thrusts in your walls. He grunts, noticias the feeling of your walls squeezing him. “I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you too, Xav, but how the hell do you were asleep while we were…?” Even you don’t have any words to explain the situation.

He only chuckles, offering you another kiss.

[insidekatmind]

Stuck with you- alejandro balde

The stadium echoed with the cheers of fans and the distant hum of post-match celebrations. You adjusted your jacket and made your way to the elevators, the badge on your wrist granting you VIP access. The match had been intense. Your father's team, FC Barcelona, had fought hard, and as usual, your father, Xavi, had been on the sidelines barking orders like a maestro directing an orchestra. You loved watching him coach — it reminded you of the passion that once connected you to football… and someone else.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and your heart froze.Alejandro.

He stood inside, his arms crossed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you. His hair was damp, probably from a shower after the match. He still looked the same — tall, athletic, with that same brooding intensity that once drew you in like a moth to a flame.

You hesitated, considering taking the stairs, but time was not on your side. Your father would be waiting.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut behind you, sealing you in a tight, awkward space with your ex. The air grew heavy with tension.

The silence was deafening.

Alejandro shifted his weight, his gaze fixed on the elevator doors, refusing to acknowledge you. The hum of the elevator filled the void between you both.

Suddenly, the elevator shuddered, and the lights flickered before plunging into dim emergency lighting. The elevator jolted to a stop.

Alejandro sighed sharply. "Infierno sangriento," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough.

You watched as he clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He closed his eyes, jaw tightening with frustration.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you said, crossing your arms. "Of course, it had to happen now."

Alejandro opened his eyes and finally looked at you. His gaze softened for a moment before hardening again. "Fate has a twisted sense of humor."

You snorted. "Fate? Or just bad luck?"

Silence stretched again, the only sound being the occasional creak of the elevator cables.

"You were watching the game," he stated, not a question, but a fact.

"Yeah," you admitted. "I was here for my dad."

"Of course," he said, looking away. "Xavi’s daughter. Always his biggest fan."

"And you? Still chasing the ball around like it’s your whole world?"

Alejandro turned to you sharply, his dark eyes blazing. "It is my whole world. Football is the only thing that’s ever made sense to me."

"Right," you said, your voice laced with sarcasm. "Because it’s easier to love something that won’t leave you."

He flinched, but his gaze didn’t waver. "You think I didn’t love you?"

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. "You loved football more."

Alejandro took a step closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space. "Don’t pretend you didn’t understand. Football is my life. You knew that from the start."

"And I was supposed to just come second?" you shot back, your voice rising. "I gave you everything, and you gave me scraps."

He shook his head, frustration etched on his face. "It wasn’t scraps. You had all of me — everything I could give."

You laughed bitterly. "Except your time. Except your presence. Except your heart when I needed it most."

Alejandro ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small space. "You knew what you were signing up for."

"And you knew I needed more," you whispered, pain lacing your words.

He stopped pacing, standing in front of you. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did," you said quietly. "Over and over again."

The elevator jolted slightly, making you both stumble. Alejandro instinctively reached out, his hand brushing yours. The touch sent a jolt through you — a reminder of what once was.

You pulled your hand away, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"You’re different," he said softly, studying you.

"So are you," you replied. "Maybe it’s for the best."

"Is it?" His voice was barely a whisper, filled with something raw and unspoken.

You met his gaze, seeing the conflict in his eyes. "I don’t know."

The elevator shuddered again, and with a mechanical whir, it resumed its slow ascent. The lights flickered back to life, casting the two of you in harsh brightness.

Alejandro exhaled deeply, stepping back. "We’ve both changed."

"Yeah," you agreed. "But some things don’t."

The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival. The doors slid open, revealing the familiar hallway leading to your father’s room.

You stepped out, pausing to glance back at Alejandro.

"Goodbye, Alejandro."

He nodded, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. "Goodbye."

The doors closed, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, heart heavy with the weight of the past.

As you made your way toward your father’s room, you couldn’t shake the lingering presence of Alejandro — or the question that echoed in your mind.

Was it really goodbye?

[moonlit-imagines]

Took a Bullet

Jason Todd x reader

warnings: GUNS BLOOD WEAPONS INJURY

a/n: AYO ANON I LIED I STILL HAD MORE FROM YOU YAAYYYYY!!! i sowwy it is a little short

prompt: anon 🥀: “I've been in a jason todd mood as of lately (I'm literally so obsessed with him) and wanted to request a jason one-shot where it's a sort of enemies/ rivals-to-lovers type of dynamic where reader is another anti-hero who always ends up beating jason to jobs/ stealing his thunder by taking out whatever baddie he was after before he could do it? And then one time they have to work together to take down a criminal and reader gets severely injured (not fatally) so jason gets all protective. Then jason takes reader back to his safe house and patches them up, scolding them for making such a reckless move, which gets them talking and a confession ensues.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Red Hood sarcastically asked you after you shot down his last four battle plans for taking out a heavy weapons deal that would be taking place in under two hours.

“Anything that doesn’t guarantee our deaths, Red Hood.” You remarked, slamming your gun on the table. “I need a break from this.” You stood up and headed for the door for a moment of fresh air—Gotham fresh air.

“We don’t get breaks, y/n, this is happening tonight. It’s now or never so get on the same page.” He argued as you slammed the door behind you, rolling your eyes at his arrogance. The sun was setting, you were losing time—and you felt you were better off on your own. But he just wouldn’t leave you alone, had to have a hand in this takedown. Maybe because you were always one step ahead of him, he had to be apart of this one.

Jason worked hard, but you seemed to work harder with the way you handled your jobs. You got information first, you were there first, you did it on your own. He never understood how he was coming in second but he didn’t feel like he was doing enough, so when he caught wind of your operation he had to have a hand in it to make up the difference—only you couldn’t stand the way he did things.

You took a deep breath and walked back inside, seeing Jason scribbling on the board his new plan. “Is this better for you?” He crossed his arms as your eyes darted across a board of people, places, paraphernalia and more.

“Hang on.” You took the marker from him and altered it hastily, just for show because you knew it’d irk him. “This I can do.”

“Thank God.” He grabbed your gun off the table by the muzzle and handed it to you. “Can we go now?”

—————

Things did not go as planned. You insisted it was of no fault of your own but that was up for debate, especially since you chose to dive in front of a bullet to prevent Red Hood from taking a hit. That wasn’t the story you were sticking with, though.

“I wasn’t the one who dropped my knife, Hood!” You argued as he drove the getaway car. He could barely hear your yelling over the overworked engine revving and the barrage of bullets coming your way. You rushed to tie off your wound—a gunshot to your leg—as he sped away. “Can you drive a little less insane so I can fix this?!”

“Working on preventing you from getting shot again, if you hadn’t noticed. And I dropped the knife because you hit me, thank you very much.” He took a hard left turn and another right, trying to lose the pursuit to get you back to his safehouse.

“Yeah, because you wouldn’t shut the hell up about Batman and I was trying to concentrate.” You retorted, wincing in pain at each turn as you braced yourself for the force. “I thought you were a professional who, at the very least, could hold onto his weapon what he gets tapped in the arm. I guess that’s why I’m always a step ahead, huh?” Jason made another rough turn and you groaned in pain. “Come on! We lost them, you can stop with the reckless driving.”

“If you say so,” Jason shrugged, finally starting to drive in the right direction and looking over to you, noticing a second bloodstain on your arm, “did you get shot again?” He asked in disbelief, oddly calm.

“Yep.” You stared ahead and ignored his gaze. “You can go a little faster. I’d like to get this taken care of.” He pressed the gas pedal and arrived back at base, helping you up the stairs due to your first injury. You cursed under your breath the whole time with no end in sight. “Your fault you can’t pay attention, you goddamn…goddamn…can you just, ugh, do something?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to get you to the gurney so I can fix the mistake you made.” He sassed back.

“You were going to take this one to the chest, so I’d be thanking me if I were you.” You argued back as you were laid on the gurney within your base.

“I wear kevlar, thank you very much.” Jason replied, rummaging through first aid.

“Not on your shoulders. Would have gone straight through and probably hit your heart.” You poked him as hard as you could on his shoulder with your good arm—you know, the one without the bullet hole. Jason scoffed and cut your pantleg off without asking. You groaned at the pressure and decided to quit complaining since he had the tweezers in hand. “No, the bullet went through in my leg. Not my arm, though.” He nodded and instead went for the needle to stitch your thigh.

“That hurt?” He asked.

“Yeah, it hurts. Are you kidding?” You snapped and he shook his head, finishing the first set of stitches and moving to the back of your leg. A more sensitive spot, you tried to hide the twitches and winces of pain from him. And finally, he got to your arm, where he’d had to reach in to get the bullet.

“Just squeeze my shoulder, it’ll only hurt a little.” He fixed his mask settings to seek the bullet and slowly went in with a long pair of tweezers, the pain was worse with the bullet coming out than going in. You grabbed his arm so hard you could have punctured it with your bare hands, regretting your decision to save his ass as you cursed about a dozen more times. “You know, taking that bullet was a terrible idea.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” You huffed, growing more agitated as the needle entered your skin again. “Why can’t you be more grateful?”

“Because you could have died.” He took his mask off and looked you in the eyes. “And I couldn’t have lived with that.”

“And you think I could have? If you died, I’d have felt the same way.” You explained to him, tears welling just barely enough to notice. “Maybe you’re just upset you’re not the knight in shining armor.” You sarcastically teased.

“Maybe.” He answered as he cleaned the excess blood from your skin. Your eyes widened.

“What?” You simply replied.

“Maybe I’m upset I couldn’t save you.” He said, grabbing the gauze and gently wrapping the affected areas.

“You’re patching me up, so I think we’re even.” He looked up at you and shook his head. “What are you getting at, Jason?”

“You know what I’m getting at.” He said and you gently reached for his face, hand holding his chin. “Are you that surprised?”

“That your jealous, whiny ass is really just hopelessly in love with me?” You raised an eyebrow in mockery. “I might have gotten the hint somewhere down the line.”

“Doubt it.” Jason retorted.

“Yeah, why don’t you finish fixing me up first?”

taglist: @captainshazamerica // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @the-did-i-ask // @azazel-nyx // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[ang3lmoans]

Feeling Garam reach his limited internally and seeing it externally was a sight. Angel could feel the man tighten around his fingers and squirm in his hands. As he felt Garam reaching his climax Angel did everything he could to make sure the other man would never forget it. He began pumping his fingers at a rapid pace, aiming to hit his spot. His hand was soon replaced by the raven-haired man’s mouth. His cheeks hallowed as he sucked and bobbed his head. Being sure to deep throat him. He could feel the lazy pumps that the smaller man offered him. It turned him on even more that his best friend was so over come by pleasure that he couldn’t perform anymore. And the moans he was letting out were like music to his ears. Angel had imagined what they would sound like countless times. But never did he imagine how dam sexy they would be. The pants and whimpers didn’t help either. All he could imagine was their next time together. What they might be ready for down the road. And what noises he would make then. Angel could feel Garam’s cock twitching in his mouth and as he said he was gonna he pushed his head down and held it there. Swallowing every shot that was sent down his throat. His fingers continued to help the man ride of his climax and they gradually slowed. Just feeling his best friend grabbing at his thigh, moan the way he was, was enough to get Angel right where he needed to be. He slowly pulled off Garam and just looked down at him and he came all over his face. He released a string of shots back to back as his body tensed and trembled. “F-fuck” he moaned as he flopped down on the bed panting. Angel rolled over to lay on his back and look up at the ceiling. He laid their quietly for a moment and laughed as he could hear the shower water still going. Which reminded him how they got in this situation in the first place. “Garam, don’t tease me like that. You are too cute for that. I can’t help myself” Angel smirked and reached out a hand for Garam. He just wanted to feel him, know he was still there. He shifted before completely sitting up and moving to lay the same direction as Garam. He moved close to the smaller man and pulled him against his chest. He pressed a kiss to his hair as he rubbed the man’s back, “I’m a cuddler after sex. I hope that’s alright.” Angel admitted. He was always this way which was unfortunately a turn off for many. He realized early on he couldn’t be with someone who could just get up and walk away or turn over after sex. Angel hated that feeling it made him feel unwanted and unashamed in some ways. As in they got what they wanted and had no use for him. Angel also enjoyed taking care of his partner, in general, but especially after intercourse. “I’ll order pancakes in. We can go out for dinner. How does that sound? I think you need a bath, and we can watch a movie” Angel offered some ideas as his hand moved to Garam’s hair. He quietly played it with running his fingers through the strands.

"you wo-wouldn't believe me-e," garam couldn't even finish a sentence without being interrupted by near constant panting and moaning, his words were already shaky now made almost incoherent by the sounds leaving his lips, "i-if-if i to-old you the tru-uth." what he couldn't admit to was just how long he'd thought about the kind of fun the two of them could have. angel was his best friend and he'd promised himself that they wouldn't cross all the lines they were crossing now just to satisfy the dirty thoughts that would cross his mind. the truth was, garam had thought about angel a lot as the years had passed. when he wasn't dating anybody, and even when he was, when whatever they were doing just wasn't enough to get him off. he'd have to come up with something that would get him to the finish line. a lot of those times, he'd think about angel. he would picture the man's body, the curves and valleys of his abdomen, the way his muscles would contract with each movement he'd make. the deep, guttural sounds he'd make being pleasured by garam. he had absolutely no idea what it would be like with angel back then so he had no choice but to use his imagination and, so far, angel was living up to the expectations garam conjured up. it did make him feel a bit guilty, though. he'd already admitted to using the man to fill the emotional void his relationships left, angel had no idea that garam was using him in other scenarios, as well. it wasn't until the man's finger pushed and entered garam's body that he let loose a whimper which quickly turned into a string of soft moans as angel moved his fingers in and out. over and over. feeling the sharp pain against his ass made his whole body quivered as he whined in pleasure, though the sound was still muffled by angel's cock thrusting deep down his throat. the pain came to him completely by surprise but it wasn't unwelcomed. while a lot of what his ex did to him were things had forced to find pleasure in, garam was still okay with some things and being spanked was one of those things. with each movement, garam grew louder and louder. sucking angel off was the only way he could keep himself quiet, filling his mouth and throat only hushed the noises he was making. it wasn't long before everything he was feeling became all too overwhelming, garam was afraid he wouldn't last much longer but he was still determined to hold on as long as he could. he was already struggling with how he felt by means of angel's mouth. adding in to play the man's fingers, the way angel spoke to him, and garam was about to fall over the edge. it was all welcomed, though. he was given exactly what he'd asked for, and more. as he released angel's manhood from his mouth, he lost all strength in his body and let himself fall to rest his head on angel's thigh. if he couldn't continue with his mouth, he at least tried to keep pumping his hand to ensure angel continued to feel something. but he was only able to find the power to continue for a few more seconds. his grip loosened, his hand falling altogether to rest in front of his face on angel's thigh. "don't stop," he was desperate, the words were whispered and slurred together. garam's teeth sunk into his forearm, not hard enough to form bruises but enough to leave his skin red and indented with each groove of his teeth. he bit down in order to buy himself time but angel worked him so well, all effort he put into delaying his orgasm were useless. as he released his arm from his mouth, his head tilted back to press further against angel's thigh. heat welled up in his belly as he rolled his hips against the man's hand. he just couldn't take the pleasure anymore, there was nothing garam could do to hold himself back. "i'm gonna," he breathed out, eyes closing tight as his hand moved to angel's inner thigh and squeezed. garam couldn't even finish his sentence as his jaw dropped, unable to make a sound or even take a breath until he reached his peak. quick oozed of white spilled out of him, his body convulsive with each shot.

[live-laugh-lenney]

Can u pls write a smut where Arthur comes home after the worst in class episode in his little green suite, and maybe they roleplay or sumthing more vanilla

i'm telling you... there's something in the air right now because all these british youtubers are going through the peak of their lives right now in terms of how hot they're looking... don't tell me you don't agree. 👀 || WARNING: SMUT.||

"stay right there."

"pardon?"

"i need you to stay right there for a moment. don't move," she insists, holding a finger in his direction to keep him still, occupying the open doorway of arthur's en-suite bathroom and allowing her eyes to take in his appearance by dragging her vision up the figure dressed so elegantly in a suit coloured with a deep green material, "let me look at you for a minute."

"i'm confused," he hums out, hands on his hips and his elbows bent outwards, his eyebrows furrowing on his browline as he felt desperate for an answer, "what is happening?"

"don't be confused, babe," she shakes her head with a smirk on her lips, finally letting her eyes land on his face, "i just, i really like this look right now."

it dawned on him then, in the moment they finally made eye contact, that she was feeling a rather specific way towards him in the outfit he had worn for a video shoot that afternoon, his cheeks flushing a pink colour at how ravenous she seemed to look from where she had been stood in the doorway of his bathroom. her eyes had darkened, pupils large and black and overtaking the colours of her orbs, and she'd pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and she chewed hungrily on the flesh... all whilst refusing to tear her eyes away from his face.

"oh, you do, huh?"

"yeah, i really like it."

he cautiously took a step towards her and he was certain that he saw an intake of breath get caught in her throat, and the way her eyes widened at his movement had the depth of his stomach tingling, an urge to reach her quicker than he was planning to.

"don't take it off," she whispers softly, taking one large step to close the gap between them, his warm breath washing over her face and she felt her knees almost buckle beneath her, "keep it on. please."

his arms wrapped tight around her waist and he pulled her close to his front with her arms, out of pure instinct, joining around his neck, hands connecting at the nape of his neck and her fingers finding refuge in the hair at the back of his head. twisting the tips into the soft strands and pulling ever so gently on the tufts she had a hold of.

"someone's really in the mood today," he admits cheekily and she can't help but gulp thickly to his question, "did you miss me today?"

"miss you all the time you walk out the door," she says in reply, dragging her arms down his shoulders and loosening the tie that was still done to perfection around his neck, "but when you come back looking like this-"

"like what?"

he wanted to hear her say it. he wanted her to use her words. he just wanted to have clarification, to hear her verbally admit to him, that it was a turn-on for her to see him to handsomely dressed.

"arthur, please."

it was whiny, desperate, beautifully implorable and he could feel himself harden up in his boxers at the mere thought of being just brief minutes away from being deep inside her, having her mewl out and moan in pleasure, living a fantasy she'd never thought much into before. his fingers digging into her hips, his heart racing in his chest, tongue licking across his bottom lip at the thought of having her weak and reliant on him as she stood before him.

"tell me," he whispers softly, leaning his head down and much closer to her level, the tip of his nose brushing against her cheek as he spoke gently into her ear, "tell me how turned on you are. tell me how you want me to fuck you right now. tell me how you feel, lovie."

"i need you," her head tilts back and his eyes matched the exact same darkened look that she had in her eyes, moments ago, her hands pulling his head closer to hers and her lips brushed over his, "right now."

"right here?"

she nods quickly in response, "please."

his lips attached themselves to hers in a rough kiss, full of passion and hunger, overwhelmed by the desire to have her where she was so in need of him. his hands gave the tops of her thighs a pat, urging her to pull away from his lips and to jump up for a second, hands ready to catch her as her legs wrap around his waist and her ankles hook at the base of his back. immediately going back to having their lips dancing together with passion.

her back was soon against the mattress, body placed on the edge of the bed as he pulls away from her, standing above her.

"don't you dare take it off," she cries out breathlessly, shaking her head when she saw his fingers touch the buttons of the blazer, "don't, please."

"how am i supposed to-"

"just take your pants off," she digs her toes into the plump flesh of his covered bum and urges him to return to his previous position, "we don't need romance right now, arthur. i just need you. i want you."

the urgency in her voice, dripping with a desperate plea, had him eagerly throbbing behind the material of his trousers. fingers undoing the belt, followed by the button, followed by the zipper as he wiggles out of the waistband and lets the garment drop to his knees. her eyes wandering down his body, settling on his hardened cock hidden by his boxer shorts, pleading with her eyes to release what she was after.

he sprung into action, her head rolling back because she was always in complete awe and astonishment at how lucky she'd gotten to be with someone so incredible as pleasing and satisfying her, knowing she was in for a treat that afternoon. he hoists up the material of her t-shirt and hooks his fingers into her knickers, pulling them away from her core and revealing the wet and glistening folds between her legs.

"you really are desperate for me, hm?"

she nods and her attention reverts back to him when she feels his weight adjust above her, his knees propping her legs open so he had access to tease her entrance with the tip of his cock.

with a deliberate thrust, he sank into her and filled her completely, enticing a stunned gasp from deep within her. pleasure coursing through her as he stretched her in ways she had felt before but would never get over - it was thrilling for her, knowing he had the same effect on her like he did the first time they shared a intimate evening together. they moved together, a rhythm building between them as her hips bucked up every time he gave her a thrust, each one sending waves of ecstasy through her body. toes curling, fingers gripping at the material of his blazer, knees tensing around him in an attempt to have him go deeper.

they were lost in each other. the chaos of london outside his window fading away as they surrendered to the pleasure that had overtaken their bodies as he continued to thrust, each movement sending her closer and closer to the edge.

“don't stop,” she gasps out, her breath coming in quick bursts, "don't you dare."

he responded with fierce intensity, their bodies continuing to move together in perfect harmony, the heat between them becoming thick and palpable, a fire that threatened to consume them both.

and as they reached the peak of their pleasure, she cried out loud, her body quaking in ecstasy as she fell over the edge without a care in the world on who could hear her. the world around her exploding in a blur of sensations, her body arching and trembling as she gave in to the white hot ball of pure electricity that erupted in her belly.

arthur followed closely behind with his own release. his own moans filling the air and mixing with her purrs of pleasure once she'd hit the high, his body falling beside her in the aftermath of their passion. breathless and satisfied.

"that was amazing," she whispers hoarsely, feet flat against the floor as her back stayed flat against the mattress, "i don't know what came over me then, i'm so sor-."

"don't even think about apologising," he turns his head to face her and she can see sweat clinging to his forehead and his eyes watering so slightly at the corners, "that was incredible. i might have to come home wearing suits more often."

"i don't even know if it was the suit, the colour, the fact i missed you a lot today," she shrugs, "whatever it was, i hope it never disappears."

silence swallows the both of them, their heavy breathing being the only sounds to fill the quiet of the room, his fingertips brushing over hers as they laid together on the edge of the bed.

"reckon we should get cleaned up?"

she nods, "can we have a bath though? i don't know if i can stand."

"i did you that good, huh?"

[marauder-misprint]

The Morning After

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.3k words

cw: fluff

The next morning, you aren’t talking to anyone. You are far too in your head with conflicted feelings about yesterday’s date to converse with anyone. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel all the eyes on you. Word of your date with Sirius had quickly spread beyond your friend group. There are whispers accompanying the stares but your ‘don’t talk to me’ face wards off any questions directed at you, for the most part. 

“Well?” Regulus asks as soon as you sit down across from him at breakfast. 

Dorcas leans her elbow on the table so she can get a full look at you. Instead of answering Regulus, you reach for a mug in front of you and it’s filled with tea by the time it reaches your lips. Regulus waits a moment after you set the mug down before giving Dorcas a pleading look. 

“How was it?” Dorcas asks.

You hum. “Could use some sugar. Can you pass it?”

Regulus holds out the container of sugar cubes for you.

“We’re not talking about your tea,” he says. His voice is teetering on impatience. 

“No?” you retort blandly. You didn’t want to talk about the date until you knew how you felt about it. 

“How was your day with Sirius?” Dorcas asks. 

You take another sip of your tea and nod.

“Much better,” you mumble. 

Dorcas and Regulus share an annoyed look.

“Can’t you just get the rundown from Marlene later?” Pandora asks Dorcas with a hand gesturing toward the Gryffindor table. “Seems like Sirius is more talkative this morning.”

Sure enough, when you turn around, you can see Sirius deep in a lively conversation. He’s surrounded by his usual crowd, all of whom are leaning in, captivated by whatever he’s talking about. James throws his head back laughing as Marlene says something. By the looks of the rest of the group’s reaction, it was an insult aimed at Sirius. 

Facing Regulus again, you sigh. “It was… fine. He wasn’t a complete arse.”

Dorcas’ face lit up. She had hoped the date went well because if you started actually dating Sirius, she’d have another Slytherin in their Gryffindor group. The Gryffindor group that already liked you. 

“Sooooo, will there be another?” she asks eagerly. 

Your face snaps towards hers. “I don’t know,” you say bitterly. “Maybe? Probably not?” You groan and rub your temples. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Like what?” Dorcas crosses her arms. She obviously wants to know every detail about  your date and why there won’t be a second one. 

“Isn’t there a quidditch match coming up? Last one of the term?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not nearly as interesting as-” 

You threw a slice of toast at Regulus to shut him up.

“Talk about quidditch or I’m eating in silence.”

---

At that moment, you want to be left alone so you can work on your assignments. You can’t work in your dorm, Dorcas and Pandora would hound you for details about the date. You can’t work in the common room, same thing but with Regulus and maybe Evan and Barty since they were nosy. You drag yourself to the library and search for an empty table that’s semi-out of sight. You really hope people respect the unwritten rules of the library that when someone is working, you leave them alone. 

For the most part, they do. You are completely unbothered minus the few lingering stares and too-loud whispered comments. You work through it. It’s nothing too disruptive and one harsh glance from you often sent the culprits scurrying off. 

“-made progress, Moony. I really think she’s warming up to me!”

That voice. You stop writing, eyes wide as you continue to stare at your parchment. 

“That’s great, Padfoot, really, but can you help look for the book?”

“She confirmed that I’m attractive.”

“I know.”

“That has to mean something.”

“Maybe…”

“She didn’t say she wouldn’t write over Christmas!”

“Sirius!” The second voice, that you recognized as Remus, was growing irritated. “We can talk about her later. The Charms essay is a bit more pressing right now.”

The Charms essay. The one you were currently working on and had snagged several books for. You hear Sirius let out a soft groan. You look up in time to see them appear from the shelves next to you. Sirius pales slightly, realizing you probably just heard everything he said. You give them an awkward smile.

“Which book were you looking for? ‘Fraid I might’ve grabbed it,” you offer.

Remus approaches your table, leaving Sirius where he stood. “Tunnels and Tombs of Moldova.”

You scan the table and spot it among the pile of books you haven’t looked at yet. You point at it.

“You can take it. Just bring it back when you’re done?”

“Thanks,” Remus says quickly, grabbing the book and heading off to wherever he and Sirius are set up.

Sirius is still standing just beyond the bookshelf aisle he emerged from. He’s staring at you, waiting for you to say something. 

“You better go with him, Sirius,” you say after a moment. “I doubt Remus will write your entire essay for you.”

Instead of following Remus, Sirius walks up to your table, standing at your shoulder and looking down at your essay. 

“You did enjoy yourself yesterday, yeah?”

It’s one of the few times you’ve heard him sound so uncertain, so unsure of what your answer would be. You tear your eyes from your essay to look into his grey eyes. The uncertainty isn’t just in his voice but etched onto his face. Like he really cares what you have to say.

“It… it wasn’t bad. Don’t think I’ll be writing to you over Christmas, but you know,” you say earnestly.

He runs a hand through his hair.

“So that’s a ‘no’ on a second date then?”

Part of you wants to laugh. Did he really think you were interested? Were you interested?

“Sirius…” 

“Yeah?”

“Ask me again after the next quidditch match.”

The widest grin spread across his face, his eyes lighting up. 

“So there’s a chance! You are warming up to me!”

You give him a gentle shove in the center of his chest, causing him to take a step backwards.

“Don't push it, Black,” you warn as you turn back to your essay and reach to grab a new book from the pile. 

There is silence again so you assume that Sirius left your side to find Remus. You end up not needing the book that Remus borrowed from you. You finish the essay without it. You move onto your other homework and are about done when Remus comes back, holding the book. 

“Oh, are you leaving?” he asks, confused. 

You nod as you finish stacking the books on the table.

“Are you done with that book? You can just set it on the stack and I’ll get ‘em put away.”

Remus steps forward cautiously and puts the book on top of your pile. He’s eyeing you carefully.

“Are you playing with him?”

Remus’ tone is almost accusatory, which takes you aback. You focus on putting all of your work back into your bag as you answer him.

“No? I don’t think so? What do you mean?”

“I know you heard him when we were over here. Made him jump through some hoops to get you on a date. And now you’ve given him hope that there’ll be a second date. He’s giddy ‘bout it.”

Standing up straighter, you say, “I need time to figure some things out.”

“Hm.”

You watch Remus walk away before turning to tap the stack of books with your wand so they would return to their places. Sirius is giddy about the chance of a second date? You think that’s a bit of an overreaction, but you’re not sure if you can talk since you don’t know how you feel about him. He was so concerned about if you had a good time yesterday. You had had a good time. You’d be damned if you told anyone that right now. The more you thought about it, you didn’t not have a good time every time you were around him. Maybe if you got to know him a little bit more…

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife

[tuesday-teyz]

Butterfly Reign chapter 40 😧

Hi!

First of all, I just wanted to say how much I love Butterfly Reign—your writing is incredible, and I’ve been absolutely hooked from the start. I think I started reading when there were only about 10 chapters out, which feels like a lifetime ago!

I just finished chapter 40, and I’ve been thinking a lot about the direction the story took, particularly regarding Theseus and Wilbur. Their relationship has been such a complex and emotional journey, and I’ve really enjoyed seeing them work through their issues. Honestly, it’s crazy to think back to when I first started reading, and how I would’ve been rooting for Theseus to get his revenge, but now, with everything that’s happened, I didn’t expect the story to take such a tragic turn.

While I’m still deeply invested in the story, I’m curious about a few things—particularly the choice to have Wilbur die. I’ve been wondering, how long have you had this planned? I noticed the MCD tag from the beginning, so I’m wondering if this was always the direction you intended to take their characters or if it evolved as the story developed?

I’d also love to know your thoughts on Theseus’s actions here (without giving away any spoilers ofc). In the context of the story (obviously not condoning murder in real life 😭), do you think Theseus did what he had to do? Do you see him as someone who is still redeemable, or do you think that this was a mistake in his journey? I ask because, even though I’ve been the number one Theseus defender (his rights and wrongs) throughout the story, I found myself struggling with this moment. It’s the first time I’ve felt so conflicted about his character. I’m really curious about your perspective as the author, especially when it comes to the moral complexities in his decision.

Thank you so much for sharing this story— and I can’t wait to see what comes next! (even though i'm not yet willing to except that it shall continue BR!crimboys-less) at least give me hope for Br!discduo if nothing else

Hi, thank you for the ask, it made my morning!

To answer your questions, it's a little complex when exactly the decision came about. In my original outline back in 2022, this whole scene did not actually involve any fire. Instead, it was Theseus and Fundy stranded on the lake as ice begins to crack. Wilbur gets Fundy to safety first, and then when he comes back for Theseus, they fall through. From there on, there were two versions of this scene that I fluctuated between: one, Wilbur cuts the rope connecting them and lets himself drown, and two, the same happens but both of them get saved by a third outside force. This is followed up by Wilbur falling into a coma and being absent for the rest of the fic, sans the epilogue where we see him awake. Simply put, it was never my plan for Wilbur to be present in the final arc; he simply has no place there. His story was always meant to end in this chapter.

However, as time went on, I realized that using a coma is a very cheap (for the lack of a better word) way to write off a character, and his death by sacrifice did not feel right. As I mentioned in another post, br!Wilbur was, off and on, for nearly a decade, br!Tommy's abuser. To have someone who caused so much pain for him die saving him didn't sit right with me. Tommy was working for so long on accepting his past and unlearning the behaviors Wilbur brought up in him that it felt like an injustice and a poor message besides to basically say 'oh well he loved you at the end of the day'. And exploring his death from the point of view Tommy being relieved by it and feeling guilty at the same time is too repetetive of the story itself from when Wilbur ran away the first time. That's when the decision for Tommy to kill Wilbur was born.

So short answer: Wilbur's story was always meant to end at this moment. The idea for murder hatched during the travel arc.

I could not tell you exactly when did I realize that the plot was heading towards Tommy killing Wilbur, but I very firmly stand by the point that it's something that has been brewing up in the background unbeknownst even to me. The thing, Tommy has always been a killer. You have always known him as one (Clara was killed by him 3 years into the past), even though you didn't know his full backstory. An important part of this arc in its entirety is that it's Tommy unpacking and healing from the trauma he experienced 6 to 3 years ago. When Tommy gets sick and Wilbur takes care of him – that's 11 year old Tommy getting closure from Wilbur leaving him behind, and trading their family for the life of a commoner and a family of his own. It's not about them learning to be different in the future; it's about them mending the past. At no point at all this was meant to be about redeeming Wilbur.

Off to the next question: was this necessary? Did Tommy do what he had to?

Not at all. I address that in the chapter itself. I believe it's three different times that an image of Clara tells that Tommy must do it, meaning kill Wilbur, but the only time Tommy voices that thought himself (after the dialogue with Warden), the must changes to can. It's him taking agency over his own choices and acknowledging that he has this option and it's his decision to proceed with it. He tells Wilbur not to make excuses for him for Clara's death, knowing he's about to commit the same crime again.

As to how to feel about his actions – that's entirely up to you. You're not meant to feel a certain way about any of the characters, and especially not Tommy, but I am curious to hear your guys' thoughts and analysis. What do you think?

[legendary-69420]

Awkward Interviews 2 : Compliments, Chaos, and Charles

Chapter 5 : Part 2

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )

racing hearts

The PR Stunt – A Game of Secrets

Mark and Charles were once again seated side by side for a Ferrari PR event. This time, the concept was simple: share one thing fans don’t know about their teammate. Easy enough—right? Wrong.

The journalist directed the first question to Mark, who leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, wearing a mischievous grin. He seemed ready to deliver something lighthearted yet flattering.

“Mark, what’s one thing about Charles that fans wouldn’t know?” the journalist asked.

Mark tapped his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Hmmm… oh, I got it! He’s multitalented. Surfing, racing—you name any sport, and he can ace it. The guy’s a living highlight reel.”

Charles flashed a modest smile, nodding his thanks. “Not bad,” he murmured, though his tone carried a playful edge.

The journalist turned to Charles, clearly intrigued. “And you, Charles? What’s something about Mark?”

Charles' smirk grew devilish. He was already scheming. “Something the fans don’t know, huh? Oh, I have the perfect one.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, curious but cautious.

Charles began, “Mark loves ice cream with all his life.”

The journalist chuckled, clearly unimpressed. “We all know that, Charles.”

“Right, right.” Charles waved his hand dismissively, as if setting up the punchline. “Here’s a great one, then. Mark can accidentally flirt with anyone, but…”

“But…?” the journalist prompted, leaning forward.

Charles let the suspense linger, the glint of mischief in his eye. “…but he can’t take a compliment or flirt back to save his life.”

The journalist blinked in confusion. “Why? Is he insecure?”

Charles shook his head, laughing. “No, he’s just an airhead. If someone flirts with him or even compliments him, his mind goes completely blank. Watch this.”

Turning to Mark, Charles called him over. “Hey, Mark!”

Mark looked up from inspecting his microphone, immediately alert. “Yeah?”

Charles leaned in, his expression oozing faux charm. “I’m not a photographer,” he said, voice low and teasing, “but I can picture you and me together.”

Mark blinked, tilting his head. “Uh, yeah, we’re standing next to each other right now?”

Charles turned back to the journalist, arms wide in exasperation. “See?”

The entire room burst into laughter, and Mark, still clueless, frowned. “What did I miss?”

Another Interview – Three Words and a French Faux Pass

At another PR stop, the drivers were given a seemingly simple task: describe their teammate in three words.

The journalist looked at Charles first. “Three words to describe Mark?”

Charles took a moment, his finger tapping his lip in thought. “Charismatic, annoying, and… random.”

Mark scoffed in mock offense. “I’m not random!”

Charles arched an eyebrow. “Few days ago you out of blue told me a horse normally has more than one horsepower.”

“Well, its true,” Mark muttered defensively.

The journalist suppressed a laugh, turning the question to Mark. “Okay, Mark, your turn. Three words to describe Charles.”

Mark grinned. “Hmm… focused, funny, and… French.”

Charles froze. His jaw dropped slightly as the words sunk in. “French? Did you just call me French?”

“Yeah,” Mark replied, nonchalant. “It’s a compliment. French people are...uhm.... cool.”

“I’m Monegasque!” Charles shot back, his tone offended but tinged with humor.

Mark shrugged. “Same difference.”

Charles groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, but before he could retort, Mark interjected with a smirk. “I’d add a fourth F, by the way—freakin’ hot—but I was only allowed to say three.”

The room went still for a beat before the journalist awkwardly cleared their throat. “Uh… Mark, why do you think Charles is, um, hot?”

Mark, oblivious to the blush spreading across Charles’ face, answered matter-of-factly, “Oh, because he’s short-tempered and gets annoyed really easily. When he gets mad, his face gets all red and… hot.”

The room collectively let out an “Oooohhh” of understanding, and Charles groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Mark, you’re impossible.”

Mark just smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

Fan Reactions on Social Media

As expected, fans took these moments and ran with them.

@F1Gossip_Guru: “Mark calling Charles French instead of Monegasque has me SCREAMING. Charles is one small French fry away from losing it. 😂 #PRFails”

@LapLaughs: “The way Mark genuinely thought calling Charles ‘freakin’ hot’ was a normal thing to do… AND THEN explained it by saying Charles gets mad a lot. 🤣 #HotHeadCharles”

@Formula1_Memes: Mark: “Charles is hot.” Charles: (Internally combusts) The rest of us: 👀 #MarkTheMenace

@RedFlagHumor: GIF of Charles blushing furiously. Caption: "Charles after Mark calls him ‘hot’ because he’s an angry Frenchman. #MonegasqueNotFrench”

@F1_Dorks: “Charles trying to flirt with Mark: 🧑🏻‍🤝‍🧑🏻 Mark’s brain: 🧱 Charles: ‘See? I told you.’ 😂”

The PR events may have been intended to showcase camaraderie, but all they really proved was how effortlessly Mark could leave Charles flustered—and how entertained the fans were because of it. Charles might have been the one trying to outwit Mark, but when it came to accidental chaos, Mark was always the reigning champion.

(Dividers by @omi-resources)

[heliads]

we both know what happened to you - newt

Ben is exiled. The Glade doesn't take it well.

masterlist

It’s easy to be quiet in the mornings when it doesn’t matter. Simple days are for simple words, fading phrases, and long spells of silence. On days like today, though, after nights like last night, silence feels like the only option. No one can meet each other’s gaze. And no one wants to talk when they can still hear the echoes of Ben’s last desperate scream echoing in their mind. 

You feel a certain kind of restlessness when you’ve killed your friend. It gnaws at you like mad. Like how Ben was mad until you shoved him in the Maze and let him die. You can’t stop thinking about it, turning over that awful moment in your head again and again, unable to let the wound close in peace. He’d begged you to let him live, all of you, again and again until he was already half inside the Doors and knew it was over. You’ve known him for months. Many knew him longer still, yet all of you are complicit.

This is the Maze, after all. This is where you’re all born again with no memories and hardly even a name, and this is where half of you die. Stephen, cut in half after trying to climb down the Box Hole. Nick, his grave just barely green over with moss. And now Ben, hair like corn silk, who ran too far too fast, dead before he got to twenty. You’ll be there soon, maybe. You and Newt and everyone you’ve ever cared about. The Maze is where scientists kill the kids they raised. Birds kicked from the nest. Someone’s smoothing out your feathers now and readying you for the plunge, but all you can do is stare at the empty place among the straw and twigs where one of you had been just seconds before.

You’re staring at the walls of the Maze, lying flat on your stomach in the grass. There’s a stone jutting uncomfortably into your left elbow, but your chin’s resting on top of your laced fingertips and you’re not sure you have the strength to keep yourself from falling into the dirt while you push the smooth rock away. You wonder if Ben ever kicked that stone, if he ever tripped over it on his jog into the Maze and out again. You wonder if he stayed by the Doors when he died, or if he tried to run his old routes one last time, operating on instinct alone.

A shadow passes in front of you, darkening the pear green knives into something like the needles of the pine trees. A boy comes with the shadow, free of charge, and he slumps down next to you, pausing briefly to slide the stone away from your left elbow before lying down on his back. You turn your head, placing your right cheek on your interlaced fingers to stare at him.

Newt has always been beautiful in the sunlight. Even now, in this uncertain gray somewhere between overcast and clear skies, his eyes catch the faint bars of sunshine and turn from brown to gold. With a pang of agony deep between your ribs, it reminds you of the blond crown of Ben’s hair. You wonder if his eyes will ever shatter scarlet like Ben’s temples did too, at the end, when he hurt himself so badly he never came back, and your eyelids flinch shut to stop yourself from seeing it.

When you manage to open your eyes again, a cloud has passed over the sun, coaxing Newt’s eyes back to a woody brown, and it’s okay to look at him again. He’s looking at you too now, the lines on his face deepening with regret. You’re mirrors, the two of you, perfect pictures of guilt and misery reflecting back again and again until you’re certain you’re going to dissolve into each other for good.

“It’s not your fault,” Newt whispers. His throat is dry, and his voice cracks on most words.

“It’s not your fault either,” you murmur back. “Not Minho’s, not Alby’s. These things happen.”

Newt’s lips press together, and you know he’s going through the same swoops of grief as he remembers every Glader you’ve lost over the past few years.

“You know, I remember when he just started out as a Runner,” Newt says quietly. “Stupid shank. He was terrible at directions but he tried so damn hard that he actually fixed his own shuck memory. You should have seen him smile the first time he got a route right without one of us having to correct him. Could have powered the sun.”

He sighs, a sob trapped in the sound. To distract him, you ask, “Why’d you let him stay on as a Runner if he kept getting lost? Wouldn’t it be dangerous?”

Newt looks up at the sky, remembering. “We didn’t have many Runners in the early days. We had to take what we could get. Besides, Nick was dead set that it was better for morale if people weren’t letting the Runners quit so soon. He was early in his days as first-in-command, so we wanted to believe him. Ben got better anyway. Soon he was just as good as any of us.”

Newt’s voice trails off a little, and you know him well enough to guess what he’s thinking– if they had switched Ben out anyway, maybe he wouldn’t have been in the Maze, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten Stung, and maybe he wouldn’t have tried to kill Thomas. Maybe he wouldn’t have been Exiled. Maybe he’d still be here, and you wouldn’t be lying here trying to suppress this invisible wound bleeding out both of you without spilling a single drop of blood.

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat.

“It’s no one’s fault,” Newt says listlessly. “That’s official protocol for when someone gets exiled, you know. Nick made that klunk up too. Said people knew the rules, so if they broke ‘em, it was on their shoulders, not ours.”

“Doesn’t explain why I feel like I should have saved him, though,” you mutter.

Newt nods in agreement, expression tired. “We’re going to get through this,” he says dully. “Same way we got through every other friend we lost. We’re going to pick ourselves up and we’re going to move on. We’ll stop thinking about him.”

“No, we won’t,” you say, and continue before Newt can interrupt. “We’re never going to forget Ben, and it would be awful not to. We’re just going to stop feeling guilty, that’s all. We’ll think about Ben as Ben, not how he was after he got stung.”

“Is that fair to Ben?” Newt asks. “If we ignore what happened to him? I’d be mad, I think. Feels like we’re cheating.”

You let out a long breath. “When you think about Ben, what comes to mind? Your gut instinct, I mean. Not the first awful thing about the Doors shutting on him, but what Ben really is to you. Is it the thing we had to strap to the bed in the Med-Jack hut when he was so strung out that he was hardly human at all? Or is it the shuck kid who kept making too many left turns and followed you and Minho everywhere?”

Newt closes his eyes, half in agony, like he’s begging for strength from someone who isn’t listening. “Runner Ben. Not him when he was sick. That’s Ben to me.”

“Exactly,” you say. “That’s our Ben. That’s what matters. He wasn’t Ben at the end. Ben would never hurt us.”

And Ben would never beg for you to save him. He would never look at the Maze like a bad dog, terrified, and he would never stand there for so long once he was past the Doors, as if he had forgotten the way again.

Newt reaches out and takes your hand, gripping your fingers almost painfully, his eyes still squeezed shut. “Promise me, Y/N. If something happens, if I get stung or if I– if I– again– Tell me you’ll do the same for me. You’ll remember me as me.”

You choke back a sob. “Nothing’s going to happen, Newt.”

He squeezes your hand again, insistent. “You heard Ben. He was saying all kinds of stuff, saying the world out there was terrible. If it does, you have to promise– you have to promise–”

He’s manic and terrified in a way that shocks you. Newt is the calm one, always has been, except that one time that terrified you just as bad as this. If he isn’t in control, then you’ll have be that for him.

“I promise,” you say as calmly as you can. “You’ll always be my Newt. Always.”

He relaxes suddenly in your grasp, still as death. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat.

He pulls you close to him, your head tucked against his collarbone, heart to heart and rib to rib. The sun warms you both, dappling skin and hair and clothes. It’s going to be a while until you stop hearing Ben’s last scream when you’re locked in sleep. It’s going to be a while before you remember how to go about living like usual again. If there’s one comfort in all of this, at least, it’s that you won’t be alone. With Newt, you never will be.

maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @bonesnplywood, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

[twst-aceofhearts]

Reddened

a/n: I'm so sorry this took so long TT - there may be a pt 2 idk depends on how busy I'll be with school - also don't ask why i posted this at 2:30 am

~sorry if you're not good at math but I had Yuu be good at it for the sake of this fic~

pairing: Deuce x Yuu

words: 1606

taglist: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @ai-kan1

Deuce has been getting tutored by Yuu due to Professor Crewel’s orders. They didn’t mind, of course! They’ve been friends with Deuce for a while now. Although, lately, he’s been acting a bit weird.

“I-I think I get it now!” Deuce’s face turns red as Yuu’s hand accidentally brushes against his.

Yuu smiled. “That’s good. Here—try one more time and we can take a break.”

Deuce nods, his face still pink. He takes his pencil and answers a math question. “Is this…right…?” He gives a sheepish smile, trying not to look at Yuu directly in the eye.

Yuu picked up his notebook, looking over what he wrote. “It’s right,” They handed it back to him, placing it in front of him.

Deuce lets out an exhale, relief taking over his expression. “I’m really starting to get the hang of this…”

He glances up at Yuu to study their face, his eyes darting from their eyes to the corners of their mouth, then to Yuu’s cheek. He suddenly looks like there’s something on his mind.

Yuu tilted their head. “Deuce?”

Deuce quickly turns away, trying to hide his reddening face. He’s been staring at Yuu for a moment too long and he knows it. He doesn’t exactly know how to respond when Yuu addresses it.

“Huh?” he says, his voice cracking. “I-I’m just thinking.” 

His hands fidget with the pen in his hands, still avoiding eye-contact.

“Uh…okay. You want to go grab a drink from the vending machine and take a break?” Yuu paid no mind to it, rummaging through their bag for their wallet.

“S-sure, yeah, that sounds good!” Deuce replies. The break would give him the chance to clear his head a little.

Deuce shuts the textbook, placing his pen on top of the hard cover. He stands up, waiting for Yuu to do the same.

Yuu nodded, finding their wallet and standing up beside him. “Let’s go.”

Deuce follow Yuu, walking out of the library. He can’t help but sneak glances at Yuu from time to time as they make their way down the hall. He struggles to keep his eyes on the path ahead of him, his eyes darting away whenever they looked in his direction, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Yuu suddenly stopped in place, causing him to bump into them. Deuce lets out a surprised ‘oof’ as he collides into them. He stumbles back a little, regaining his footing before addressing Yuu. 

“Why’d you stop? What’s the matter?”

Yuu raised an eyebrow at him, pointing at the vending machine beside themself.

Deuce’s eyes followed the direction of their finger. He blinked once before he realized what they were pointing at. “O-oh,” he mutters, “right…”

With Yuu standing so close next to him, Deuce is becoming aware of his body, and the fact that him and Yuu were practically touching.

“Which one do you want?” Yuu went through their wallet, taking out a few thaumarks.

It takes a second for Deuce’s mind to understand what Yuu was asking. He’s too focused on the feeling of Yuu being right next to him. “Huh? Oh, um…”

He quickly scans the drink selection, searching for the one he likes. The last thing he wanted to do was make them wait long enough for Yuu to get suspicious of his behavior. “I’ll take the strawberry one,” he answers, “if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yuu inserted the thaumarks, getting a strawberry for Deuce and a [flavor] one for themself.

Deuce watches as Yuu use the vending machine to get the drinks. His heart is racing, still trying to calm his nerves. He mentally scolds himself for being flustered over something as stupid as standing too close to them. Yuu has done things like this before plenty of times. Why was it bothering him so much now?

Deuce lets out a defeated huff, accepting that he’s going to continue feeling this way for the rest of the day. He can only hope to not act like too much of an idiot around them.

“We should go back now before someone steals our stuff,” Yuu handed him his drink, before taking a sip of their own.

Deuce nods in agreement, taking the drink from their hand. He’s still feeling a little flustered, and he’s worried they might notice. He  takes a sip of the drink in order to avoid having to speak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While walking back, Yuu suddenly spoke up. “Can I try yours?”

Deuce nearly chokes on his drink when they ask him to share. He wasn’t expecting anything like that, swallowing hard before stammering a response. 

“U-uh, sure…?”

Yuu let out a grateful hum, drinking from the straw—the same straw where he drank from.

Deuce stares in silent shock. When Yuu pulled away, he’s left a little breathless. He didn’t even think that they’d want to do that. The act of sharing a drink felt very personal to him—not that he’s opposed to the idea. In fact, he’s already imagining drinking from the same place as them again.

“Here you go. It’s refreshing. You have good taste,” Yuu complimented, handing him his drink back.

Deuce manages to find the words to speak again, a little embarrassed by Yuu’s compliment. He takes the drink back, wrapping his fingers around the plastic bottle. 

“Y-yeah, it’s my favorite,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Taking their praise like that made  him flustered in a way he couldn’t explain. He wanted to hear them say that again, and again, and again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the library, Yuu plopped down in their chair, letting out a small sigh—relieved that nothing was stolen.

Deuce follows Yuu’s lead, sitting next to them. He’s still feeling the after effects of their compliment—he had practically been left speechless afterwards. Even now, he’s silently fidgeting with his hands. He glances in Yuu’s direction from the corner of his eye. He was wondering if Yuu could see how red his cheeks were.

“...Deuce? Are you okay? Your face is redder than Riddle’s hair,” Yuu chuckled, opening the textbook once more to start the next topic.

Deuce’s eyes snap to Yuu when they address his red face. He silently panics, trying to think of a way to respond that wouldn’t be suspicious.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” He tries to laugh it off, but it comes across as a little too hasty. “It’s just a little warm in here, that’s all!”

“...? It’s 60 degrees (F) in here though plus air conditioning,” Yuu blinked twice while looking up, their eyes meeting his.

Deuce winces a little at their comment. He knows it’s not real convincing, but he it’s not like he can suddenly drop the “Oh yeah, I have a crush on you” card right away at random. 

As Yuu’s eyes meet his, he could suddenly feel the redness in his cheeks spreading to his ears.

“I-I don’t know, I guess I’m just…” he trails off, looking for a way to end his sentence that isn’t a lie. “I’m just feeling a little off today, that’s all.”

Yuu shrugged, pushing the textbook with the correct page in front of him. “If you say so.”

Deuce lets out a quiet sigh of relief as they drop the subject. He’s silently grateful that Yuu hadn’t pushed anything further, turning his attention to the hardcover book in front of him and trying to focus on what he’s supposed to do. There were still things he needed to fully get a grasp of.

After a moment, Deuce speaks up again. “Can I ask you something really fast?”

Deuce hesitates, not sure how to phrase his question. Well, go big or go home as they say.

“How do you know if you, um…have feelings for someone?”

“...oh wow,” Yuu was expecting a question more related to the topic of geometry, not…relationship advice. 

“Well…” they trailed off. “...I guess if you feel happy with them and look forward to seeing them again.”

“Right,” he nods. That’s a given, he thought. There were more specific signs he was wondering about though.

“What if you also get really…flustered when you’re around them. Like, you get this feeling in your chest, and your heart starts beting really fast. And you can’t concentrate on anything else because they’re the only thing on your mind. And when they stand too close, you get all dizzy and stuff…is that a sign of having feelings for someone?”

Yuu blinked. “That’s oddly specific. Do you have a crush on someone or something?”

Deuce freezes at their question, his eyes wide. It was like the read his mind. “I…I’m just curious,” he says, trying to keep a composed tone. It’s a little strained.

“Then…yeah. That too.”

Deuce nods in response, trying to hide his nervousness. Their words don’t help him feel any better about his situation. If anything he’s more flustered now.

He thinks back to all the times he’d experienced all the things he asked them about—of all the times it happened around them. The realization causes him to feel his heart pound in his chest again. It definitely wasn’t just a small crush he had on Yuu.

“...Deuce, you know you can tell me anything right?”

Deuce looks back up, making eye contact. He can see that genuine look in their eyes—they’re being serious right now, silently telling him he doesn’t have to hide anything from Yuu.

He’s a little torn on what he should do. Should he be honest with you—telling you the truth? Should he try and push these feelings away—hoping they go away eventually? After a moment of silence, Deuce musters up enough courage to answer. 

“Yeah… I know.”

credit to @cafekitsune for divider

[brookediamonds]

don't forget to kiss me, or else you'll have to miss me | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

based off this request

Summary: Your anxiety gets the best of you, and when you're overwhelmed you find the kata Sensei LaRusso has taught you, grounds you. When your in the middle of your routine, someone is caught admiring you.

Word Count: 968 Warnings: None, fluff!

gif is not mine

You knew the Sekai Taikai was going to be a challenge, but you didn't expect all of this.

You weren't prepared when you saw your friend Tory standing with the your biggest enemy, you hadn't anticipated Robby would be so distracted, you definitely weren't expecting one of your strongest teammates having to leave due to a family emergency.

It felt like a lot and when things felt heavy for you, anxiety crept up. Which leads to panic attacks. And you surely didn't want one right now.

Deciding against a night out, you changed into some comfier clothes, those being a pair of leggings and a crop top t-shirt, and head down to the beach to get away from those around you.

You found Miyagi-Do kata to be extremely soothing and relaxing for you, it brought a sense of peace to your mind and body that replaced the anger you held over at Cobra Kai.

When Sam and Sensei LaRusso learned about your daily struggles, not only did they help your problems, they helped you with your mental health.

So when you're feeling a staggering feeling of panic, that heart racing feeling that you lose control over, you count to ten and work your way through the Miyagi kata.

Which is what you were doing now. The sound of the waves crashing behind you sang calmly as you moved with ease, breathing in and out with each strike.

Unbeknownst to you, a stranger has come across you, recognizing the familiar dance of kata you were performing. Axel was entranced, completely in awe by the way your eyes held a look of focus and calm all at once.

When you twist in his direction, you jump in your spot making him freeze in his place.

"S-Sorry!" He apologizes quickly, his eyes diverting in the opposite direction like he had just been caught with his hand in a cookie jar that was off limits.

You recognized him, he was the captain for that Iron Dragons team. He was an excellent fighter, and not at all bad looking.

"You can join me," you offer politely, gracefully continuing where you had paused. He stood still for a moment, contemplating your offer.

He too had wanted to get away from everyone and work on his training.

"Only if you show me that kata," Axel says lowly, taking a few steps closer to you. You nod in agreement, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

Your new friend is taken by this new form of work you're teaching him, following along with you as you move with ease.

"You are very good," he says after half an hour the two of you practicing. You both stood in front of each other, taking a breather.

"I could say the same about you," you grin, brushing away a strand of hair from your face. A silence falls between you, an uncertainty lingering.

You were afraid it was time to part ways for the night, but something about the way this handsome boy was gazing down at you kept your feet glued to the ground.

Just as you're about to suggest something, Axel looks like he’s about to say something too.

"Do you want to—"

"Maybe we could—"

You both stop mid-sentence, your words overlapping. A surprised laugh escapes you as Axel’s cheeks turn a faint shade of pink.

"Go ahead," he nods unable to hide his giant smile, glad you wanted to further explore his company.

"There's a churro stand on the way back to the hotel, maybe we can grab one and hang out for a little longer?" You propose the idea, yours words spilling out before your courage can falter.

"I would like that," he says warmly.

The two of you fall into step, walking along the edge of the water, enjoying the sound of the rolling waves in the background.

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

"Okay, if you had to choose between finishing this churro with me," you held up your half-eaten sugary dessert, "or never get to eat churros again, what would you choose?"

There's a playful smile tugging at your lips, when Axel is mid-bite into his churro, freezing at your question.

"That is unfair," he frowns looking down at you as the two of you strolled down the streets of Barcelona. "Is this trick question? If I give up mine, do I get to finish yours?"

You gasp, clutching your churro dramatically. "Absolutely not! This one is mine. You’re on your own."

Axel laughs before letting out a dramatic sigh.

"I guess I would choose this churro with you," he answers your question. "A night with you is worth no churros for the rest of my life."

Your hearts soars in your chest, a bubbly feeling rising in your stomach.

"I better make it an unforgettable night then," you joke, trying to mask the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

He chuckles, watching as you take a seat at a nearby bench. Sliding in right next to you, you twist your body, pulling up your legs to fully face him.

"Tonight has been fun," he says matter factly. "And unforgettable."

You grin taking the last bite of your food, tossing the wrapper in the trashcan behind you.

"I know what can make it even more unforgettable," you spoke softly, your eyes flickering between Axel's and his lips.

He catches your gaze, a small smirk tugging at his lips. He knew what you were implying by the way you inched closer to him.

Closing the gap between you, he leans forward capturing his lips with yours, completely ravishing you.

The fireworks that have been flickering all night, finally erupt. His hand found its way to your cheek, cupping it gently as you snaked your arm around the back of his neck.

When you pull away, both your eyes reconnect holding the same love-struck glint.

It was an indeed, an unforgettable night.

[themurdochmemesteries]

Some surprise Malcoshi for @deadheaddaisy It's angsty, because that's what I do, but I hope you like it.

Also on ao3.

She finds him in the armoury, alone, picking apart a phase pistol. Exactly where she suspected he’d be. He has his back to her and doesn’t seem to hear her come in. Hoshi frowns. It’s not often one can catch the ever-perceptive Lieutenant Reed off guard, so she ensures her footsteps are loud as she walks closer. When he still doesn’t lift his head, she clears her throat.

He whirls around so suddenly he almost teeters off balance. Seeing her, he relaxes ever so subtly. “Hoshi,” he breathes.

“Hey, Malcolm.” For all her extensive vocabulary, Hoshi is, for once, at a loss for words. A dozen or so different things she could say crowd at the tip of her tongue—questions, apologies—but none of them feel right. So instead her eyes flick to the phase pistol lying in pieces on the desk. “What are you working on?”

Malcolm glances back, running his fingers through his hair. “Erm, replacing a power pack.”

“I see.”

He turns back around to face her. “Was there something you needed?”

“I just came to see if you were alright,” Hoshi says, and even as the words leave her lips, she notices Malcolm stiffen almost imperceptibly.

“I’m fine,” he says immediately.

Hoshi’s expression softens. “What you went through-”

“Was nothing.” And there’s another uncharacteristic moment, for Malcolm hardly ever interrupts anyone. “I’m fine,” he says again.

“Sure. But… it’s okay to not be, you know.”

“I know.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds.

Hoshi takes a deep breath. “Captain Archer told me. About your fear.”

And Malcolm stiffens again, his spine ramrod straight, jaw set, shoulders tense. “Is that so,” he bites out.

“The aliens… What they did was inexcusable. Regardless of whether or not ‘tests of strength’ are their tradition.”

“It was the only way to get them to talk to us.”

Hoshi frowns. “But we didn’t have to.”

“We needed the dilithium.” Malcolm turns back to the worktable, but Hoshi is nothing if not persistent—and stubborn.

“Someone else could have gone. But you volunteered. Why?”

Malcolm doesn’t answer.

Hoshi takes a step closer. “Why, Malcolm?”

Still not a word.

Hoshi grits her teeth, anger flooding through her—but not directed at the man she’s held secret affections for for the past two years. Towards the aliens who returned him to sickbay two days ago, sopping wet and borderline catatonic. “They locked you in a box and left you to drown!” she exclaims.

“I know that!” Malcolm hisses.

Hoshi grabs his shoulders and spins him around. “So why did you do it?”

He shuts his eyes.

She shakes him. “Why, Malcolm?”

He purses his lips, once again not responding.

“Do you know how difficult it was seeing you like that?” Hoshi whispers hoarsely.

He glances away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “Tell me why.”

He’s silent for a moment, and Hoshi worries he’s not going to answer again, but then he opens his mouth.

“They told us, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link,” he says in a quiet voice. “If I couldn’t face my fears…” He swallows thickly, tears crowding at his eyes.

“You’re not weak,” Hoshi assures him. “It’s their system that’s bullshit.”

He shakes his head, hands coming up to rest on her own, which still grip his shoulders loosely. He hangs his head. “I cried for help,” he whispers. “When the water got too high. I cried out for someone to save me. I couldn’t handle it.”

“I’d do the same, if I was suddenly stuck in a shrinking box,” Hoshi points out.

“You’re not the security officer.”

“But we are both human.” She reaches up, cupping his face, and to her surprise he leans into it and closes his eyes. “We can’t help that.”

He draws in a shuddering breath. “I was scared…”

“I know,” she says.

And then suddenly he’s leaning forward, burying his face in the crook of her neck and soon Hoshi feels hot tears against her skin, dampening her uniform, and before she knows it her arms are wrapped around him. “It’s alright,” she murmurs, “no one can hurt you anymore,” and she holds him as he slumps in her arms and breaks down.

[ellswritings]

Code Breaker 1x12

“No, I’m not letting you leave them here,” Stiles shakes his head, his voice breaking at the thought of leaving them here to die. He couldn’t look Michael in the eye and tell him that he let his daughter bleed out on the lacrosse field.

Peter wiped the blood off the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, “You don’t have a choice, Stiles. You’re coming with me.”

“Just kill me!” Stiles screams. “I don’t care anymore!”

Peter walks over to the boy, sticking his claws under Stiles’ chin, lifting him up by simply using just the tips of his fingers. “Call your friend. Tell Jackson where they are. That’s all you get.”

Stiles pulls out his phone, his hands shaking as he calls Jackson. The explanation is rushed, leaving the blonde with a plethora of questions Stiles didn’t have time to answer. He feels like his world is falling apart every time his eyes meet Fallon’s form. He can’t even tell if she’s breathing. A few tears finally slip from his eyes, him quickly wiping them so Peter wouldn’t see. He just hopes that Jackson brings Issac or someone to get them both to the hospital.

The only thing Stiles didn’t seem to notice was the way Fallon slowly sits up as soon as he and Peter turn to walk away. Her mind is fogged, nothing making sense to her. There’s a dull sting in her side, she feels like she’s walking through a dream. The world around her seems to be in a purple haze. Every direction she looks is covered by the pretty color. She’s not quite sure if what’s happening is real, or if she died when Peter bit her. Lydia lays still beside her, shallow breaths leaving her body. Fallon tilts her head, feeling the urge to reach out and touch her, but a more primal need fills her. She has somewhere she needs to go. Someone she needs to find.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The woods were a maze of twisting shadows and silvery moonlight, and Fallon stumbled through them, disoriented, her mind fogged with confusion. She could barely remember how she’d gotten here. One moment she’d been at the dance, the next... darkness, followed by pain. Everything after that was a blur.

The only thing that seemed clear, cutting through the haze in her mind, was a single command that pounded with every beat of her heart: Find Derek.

But why? Why was that the only thought running through her mind? Her legs were heavy, her body exhausted, but she couldn’t stop moving. Fallon didn’t know how long she had been running. Maybe hours. Maybe minutes. Time seemed warped out here, twisted by the shadows and the overwhelming sense of urgency that filled her.

Find him.

The thought echoed in her head, like a voice that wasn’t her own, yet completely hers at the same time. She didn’t understand it, but she couldn’t ignore it. The forest pressed in around her, branches clawing at her arms and legs, her footsteps uneven and unsteady over the rough terrain. The cold bit at her skin, but there was a strange heat radiating from inside her, a burning sensation she couldn’t explain.

Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, each inhale sending a sharp pain through her chest. She stumbled over a root, her knee crashing into the earth as she hit the ground. Fallon groaned, clutching her side as she gasped for breath, but the pain didn’t stop her from getting back up.

She couldn’t stop. Not yet.

The moon hung high in the sky, bright and full, casting an eerie glow over the forest. Fallon stared up at it, squinting against the light. There was something about the moon tonight. It felt... powerful. She could feel its pull, like it was connected to her somehow, drawing energy from it. The burning in her veins flared again, and she clenched her fists, trying to fight off the sensation.

She had to keep moving. She had to find him.

Derek.

His name pulsed through her like a drumbeat, and her feet moved forward before she even realized it. Her body felt different, almost like it was working independently of her mind. Her senses were sharper—she could hear every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig underfoot, every breath of wind that swept through the trees.

But there was more than that. She could feel something else—something raw and primal stirring inside her. Something that both terrified and exhilarated her. It was as if her body was changing, becoming something new, something powerful. And it frightened her.

What is happening to me? Fallon wonders, her thoughts barely audible over the sound of her own rapid breathing.

The wind carried no answer, only the distant howl of a wolf in the night. The sound sent a shiver down her spine, her heartbeat quickening in response. She felt exposed out here, vulnerable, yet stronger than she’d ever felt before. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

She pressed on, her feet sinking into the damp earth as she moved deeper into the woods. The trees loomed over her, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to grab her. But Fallon barely noticed. Her mind was too clouded, too focused on finding him.

Derek. He was the key to this, wasn’t he? He had to be. Why else would her mind keep returning to him? She needed answers, and Derek was the only one who could give them to her.

But where is he? Why does she need to find him?

The moonlight flickered between the trees, casting strange shadows that danced across the ground as Fallon wandered deeper into the forest. Every step felt heavier than the last, her body aching from the relentless push forward. She wasn’t even sure where she was anymore. The forest seemed endless, and every direction looked the same.

Her pulse was racing, and the burning sensation in her chest only intensified the further she went. Fallon could feel it, that primal energy, bubbling just beneath the surface of her skin. She didn’t know how to stop it. Didn’t know if she could stop it.

The branches whipped at her as she broke through the thicket, her breath coming in sharp gasps. She had to slow down. Just for a moment. She needed to think, to figure out what was happening to her. But every time she tried to focus, her mind clouded again, that same thought overpowering everything else.

Find him.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles stumbles into the hospital, out of breath and a strong feeling of panic in his chest. Nurses, Doctors, and patients all whirl around him, only making his anxieties grow. He just got away from Peter, the older man stealing his Jeep in the process. He got Derek’s location for the man and now his only priority is finding Lydia and Fallon. His only hope now is that they’re still alive for him to find.

He charges forward once he sees Lydia’s room, but is stopped by his father. Noah pushes him back slightly, jabbing his pointer finger into his son's chest. “You know what? It’s good that we’re in a hospital because I’m gonna kill you.”

Stiles stammers emotionally, “I’m– I’m sorry. I lost the keys to my Jeep. I had to run all the way here,” he explains trying to get a glimpse of the strawberry blonde. He hasn’t heard anything about Fallon yet.

“Stiles, I don’t care!” Noah exclaims angrily.

The boy finally sees Lydia in full, the girl completely unconscious, receiving her oxygen through a tube. “Is she gonna be okay?” He asks tiredly.

Noah sighs, looking back at the teenage girl with unsure eyes. “They don’t know…” he answers. “Partially because they don’t know what happened. She lost a lot of blood, but there’s something else going on with her.”

Stiles’ chest tightens, “W-what do you mean?” He asks broken heartedly.

“The doctors say it’s like she’s having an allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock.”

Stiles’ face falls as he realizes that means her body could be rejecting the bite. Suddenly a more prominent worry takes over his mind. “W-what about Fallon?” he asks with wide eyes. “Where is she? They told me Lydia was up here, but I didn’t hear anything about Fallon.”

Noah’s face scrunches in confusion. His own heart rate quickening, “What do you mean, ‘what about Fallon?’” He questions his son.

“Wait–” Stiles’ lip quivers. “Did Jackson not bring her in? I told him that Fallon and Lydia were on the lacrosse field,” his breathing quickens when he watches his dad get very worried in a short span of time.

“Stiles, Lydia was the only one Jackson brought in.” Noah reveals.

“No–” Stiles shakes his head, trying to keep his fear at bay. Where could she have gone? She was unconscious. “No. Dad, she was there, okay? She was hurt, bad. Like bleeding out from a wound on her side bad. She’s supposed to be here. Why– why isn’t she here? She couldn’t have just gotten up and walked away!”

Noah’s heart drops, but he calmly presses the button on his radio, “All units, I need an APB out on a missing girl. Brown hair, about 5’5, blue eyes.”

“She was wearing a pink sparkly dress with a slit on the side,” Stiles interjects, trying to give as much detail as possible.

His dad nods, ”Her name is Fallon Donovan. Was last seen wearing a pink dress with glitter embedded in it. She won’t have any ID on her, and according to a witness is injured. Wound to the side.”

Stiles runs a frustrated hand through his buzzed hair, his breathing more ragged than ever. He lost his best friend. His best friend since third freaking grade. He lost her. She could be dead, and it’s all because he let Peter control him.

Peter. Maybe he’s the reason she’s gone. Did he send someone to get her body? Why would he do that when he promised he wouldn’t hurt them? His mind runs at a million miles a minute until his dad pulls him out of the rabbit hole he’s going down.

“Stiles,” he snaps his fingers. “Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked them? We could use that to try and narrow down the search.”

Telling his father about Peter would mean revealing the entirety of the supernatural to him. He couldn’t risk putting his father in danger. “No,” he lies, hoping there’s another way to find Fallon. “No, I have no idea.”

“What about Scott?” Noah questions.

“What do you mean? What about him?”

“Did he see anything?” Noah elaborates, practically working with nothing to try and find his own best friend's daughter.

“What do you–” Stiles breathes out, confused. “Is he not here?”

“What are you talking about?” Noah furrows his eyebrows. “I've been calling him on his cell phone. I've gotten no response.”

That’s when Stiles remembers. Scott doesn’t have his phone. Derek does. “Yeah…” he mutters looking down to his feet. “And you’re not gonna get one.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon staggers, her legs nearly giving out beneath her as she pressed her back against a tree, trying to catch her breath. The world around her seemed to spin, the trees blurring into a dizzying swirl of darkness and light.

Her chest ached, and she could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, her skin prickling as that strange energy surged through her once again. It was almost too much, like her body was on fire from the inside out. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady herself.

The urge to give up is present, but she needs him. She needs to know where he is. If he’s okay. If he can help her.

She pushed herself off the tree, her legs trembling as she forced herself to keep moving. There was no time to rest, no time to stop. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep going, but she didn’t have a choice.

Suddenly, she heard it—a growl, low and menacing, echoing through the trees.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she froze, her eyes darting through the darkness. The sound sent a wave of fear through her, but there was something else, too. A strange sense of familiarity. The growl wasn’t just any growl.

It was Derek.

Without thinking, Fallon took off in the direction of the sound, her legs moving on instinct alone. Her mind was too foggy to fully process what was happening, but she knew she had to reach him. She had to find him.

Branches snapped beneath her feet as she raced through the forest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Fallon’s heart pounds loudly. She was getting closer. She could feel it.

The ground seemed to slope downward, and Fallon stumbled, her body careening forward as she slid down the incline. She hit the ground hard, her knees scraping against the dirt, but she barely registered the pain. She pushed herself back up, her pulse racing as she darted forward again.

The growl came once more, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine, but it was closer now. Much closer. Fallon’s heart raced as she pushed herself harder, her legs burning as she sprinted through the trees.

The moonlight flickered overhead, casting strange shadows that seemed to dance around her. But Fallon didn’t care. All she could think about was Derek, and the primal, animalistic sound of his growl pulling her forward.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the growl stopped.

Fallon skidded to a halt, her breath catching in her throat as she stood in the middle of a small clearing. The forest was eerily silent now, the wind barely rustling the leaves overhead. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she scanned the area, her eyes wide with confusion.

“Derek?” Fallon’s voice was shaky, her body trembling from both fear and exhaustion.

But there was no response.

The silence was deafening, and Fallon’s heart sank as she realized she was alone again. She hadn’t found him. Not yet. But she was close. She had to be.

Her legs felt like they were made of lead as she took a few hesitant steps forward, her chest heaving with each breath. The burning sensation in her veins has intensified, and Fallon could feel her body vibrating with that strange energy. It was overwhelming, like her body was on the verge of breaking apart.

She staggers forward, clutching her chest as she gasps for breath. The moon seemed impossibly bright overhead, its light almost blinding as it bathed the clearing in an otherworldly glow. Fallon squinted against it, her vision blurring as the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

She shakes her head, the purple in her vision becoming more clear as she tries to push through. A low growl emits from her own chest as a newfound energy finds its way into her veins. She sucks in a breath, the pine trees above making her chest pang from the freshness. The air is too crisp to avoid the jabbing in her chest, but she ignores it.

The growl she heard reverberates in her head as she tries to follow the sound. It scares her how her body seems to know exactly where to go just by sound alone. She replays it over and over again until her body halts in front of a familiar structure.

The Hale House.

Her brows furrow, until she gets a rather strong smoky scent of leather and pine. It fills her nose and she closes her eyes. It’s him. He’s here. That’s when she also notices a different scent lingering in the air. It’s familiar to her. Fresh soap, cedar, with a slight hint of eucalyptus. It smells energetic and warm. Much like Scott. He’s here too. He found Derek the same way she did.

She travels through an unnecessary amount of brush and weeds, finding an underground entrance. Her mind is still repeating the same mantra over and over again. The scent gets stronger and pulls her through the winding pathways of the underground looking jail. All of her senses are on overdrive. She can hear, smell, and see things that no normal human should be able to.

“Ready for some more fun?” A dark voice fills her ears. She assumes it’s a hunter. She’s careful not to give away her location, walking on the tips of her toes to remain unnoticed. “To be honest, my knuckles are kind of hurting... So, I brought some help. But, I need to warn ya– I used to play in college.”

She stops when she hears the sound of the bat being caught. Right before she turns a corner, she notices Scott standing in the middle of the hallway, no doubt staring the hunter down. “…I brought a little help too.” Derek reveals.

Scott moves smoothly into the room, eyes glowing yellow as Derek knocks the hunter out. Fallon wonders how neither of them have picked up on her scent, but that’s a question for later. She clutches her side, the bleeding slowing, but still rather prominent.

Chains rattle as she moves further down the way. The brunette stops right before the room Derek’s being held in. She peeks around the corner, watching Derek struggle to pull his other arm out of its restraint.

“Scott, help me with this,” he commands urgently, not wanting to get caught by Kate who is no doubt going to return soon.

“No.”

Fallon fights the primal urge to growl at the defiance. She doesn’t understand why her anger is so high, but what she does understand is that Derek needs help. And if Scott isn’t going to do it, then she will.

“What?” Derek looks at Scott in disbelief.

The younger boy takes a brave step forward, standing up to Derek, “Not until you tell me how to stop Peter.”

Derek tugs at the chain again, “You really wanna talk about this right now?” He asks exasperatedly.

“He’s going after Allison and her family. He’s going to kill them.”

“So what?!” Derek shouts, not exactly caring if the Argents end up dead. Fallon can feel his anger, the bubbling rage that he uses to keep himself human. The purple tint over her eyes makes the room around her look much more menacing, darker than it actually is. She hides in the shadows, creeping carefully against the wall, using the lack of light to her advantage.

“So, tell me how to stop him,” Scott demands calmly.

“You can’t!” Derek reality checks him. “All right?” He once again frustratedly tugs in the chains holding him in place. He angrily looks at Scott, “Now, I don’t know when Kate’s coming back, so just get me out of this right now! Get me out right now!”

“Promise you’ll help me,” Scott persists.

“You want me to risk my life for your girlfriend?” Derek asks furiously, baring his teeth at Scott. “For your stupid little teenage crush that means absolutely nothing? You're not in love, Scott! You're sixteen years old! You're a child!”

“Maybe you're right…” Scott nods, conceding to his point. “But, I know something you don't. Peter said he didn't know what he was doing when he killed your sister, right? He lied.” He pulls out a crumpled up autopsy report from his pocket, holding it up for Derek to read. “Remember this?” There’s a dead deer in the center, a spiral embedded into its side. “This is what brought your sister back to Beacon Hills, right?”

“Where did you get that?” Derek asks breathily.

“My boss told me three months ago, someone came into the clinic asking for a copy of this picture. Do you wanna know who it was?” Scott asks rhetorically, planning on revealing the information without an answer. “Peter's nurse. They brought your sister here so that Peter could kill her and become the Alpha, and that's why you're going to help me.”

Derek’s jaw clenches with anger, his nose flaring as he processes the new information. He balls his locked up hand into a fist, making Scott think he’s still being defiant. The boy turns around with a sigh, “Just say you’ll help me, and I’ll help you unlock your other–”

Fallon takes that as her opportunity, she sneaks up behind Derek, ripping the cuff off of his wrist. Scott stops in his tracks when he hears the metal hitting the ground. He spins around and sees Derek freed, with a very dazed Fallon standing behind him, her eyes flashing purple.

“Fallon?” Scott’s eyes widen. It takes Derek a moment to process that the girl is the one who just released him. He takes in her appearance. Still in her winter formal dress, the right side of it torn and drenched with blood. Her feet are caked with mud and dirt and that’s when he realizes Peter did exactly what he told him not to.

“He bit her,” Derek says angrily.

“Derek…” the girl mumbles, swaying back and forth on her feet. “Found… you,” she barely manages to get that out before collapsing. Derek surges forward, catching the girl in his arms.

He cranes his neck to fully assess the wound, his heart pounding rapidly. His breathing speeds up and his eyes grow worried at the thought of her dying from this. But he slowly calms when he sees that the injury is healing. Her body isn’t rejecting the bite. But she’s still in no condition to be running around in the woods.

“We need to get her out of here,” Derek says. “Now.”

Scott nods his head in agreement, leading the way out of the cellar. They climb uphill and out of the gate and begin trudging through the forest. Fallon’s limp body sways back and forth, Derek cupping the back of her head so she doesn’t accidentally break her neck.

“I don’t understand,” Scott turns to the man. “If he just bit her, how did she know where to find you? I didn’t even think people could adjust that quickly after being bitten.” He says, completely lost as he stares at his best friend with concern.

“I don’t know…” Derek mutters. “But she hasn’t completely adjusted, that’s why she passed out.”

Fallon’s eyes flutter open, but this time they’re her regular color. She groans as the pain in her side returns, no longer just a dull ache. It’s come back with a stinging vengeance. Though the wound is definitely not as bad as it would be if she wasn’t rapidly healing.

She startles when she notices she’s in Derek’s arms. The last thing she remembers was running outside to find Lydia. “Derek…?” She questions, voice groggy. Her head spins and that’s when she notices her best friend, “Scott?”

“Fallon!” Scott exclaims, practically ripping the girl out of Derek’s arms.

She wriggles her way out of Derek’s hold, planting her wobbly feet on the ground. She uses Derek’s shoulder for support. “What the hell happened?” She asks, looking at her own appearance with disgust. “And why am I in the middle of the woods?” That's when she suddenly remembers what Derek did to her a mere few days ago. She slaps his chest roughly, “And where have you been?! You sneak into my room and try to kill me only to disappear for two freaking days!”

“You tried to kill her?” Scott asks angrily.

“I didn’t try to kill her,” Derek rolls his eyes, annoyed. “I gave her a warning, one she clearly didn’t listen to considering the fact she has a whole chunk missing from her side.”

“I didn’t exactly have time to build a relationship with a whole family of hunters,” Fallon replies snidely. “I had about as much time as you were missing.” She looks down at her hip, swallowing thickly as she watches the skin literally mend back together. “So– I–” she sucks in a breath. “Does this mean that I’m…?” She looks at Scott and Derek, both of them sensing the fear in her.

“We don’t know yet,” Scott says comfortingly. “We didn’t see much, but you managed to find Derek on your own. You don’t remember any of it?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “The last thing I remember was going to find Lydia on the lacrosse field. She was looking for Jackson.”

“Well,” Scott sends Derek a worried look. The only thing they do know is that she’s not a normal werewolf. At least not one they know of. Her eyes were purple. “We don’t know for sure, but we do know that you’re something.” He watches as her face falls and tears begin to well up behind her eyes. Of course, being who she is, she tries to hide them. “I’m sorry, Fall.”

She sniffles, waving her hand in the air. “It’s fine,” she mumbles. “I’m fine. Can we please just get out of here?”

Derek has never felt more guilty. He told her he wouldn’t let her get bit. He might’ve threatened her, but that doesn’t mean he actually wanted this to happen. His goal was to protect her, and he did the exact opposite. The very person he’s been helping hurt her. Knowing Peter killed his sister and deliberately went behind Derek’s back to bite Fallon makes the man beyond furious.

Scott helps Fallon climb up the small hill that leads away from the Hale house. All the girl wants to do is sleep for the next twenty years. She’s never felt more exhausted in her life. But apparently, traveling with these two means that request is simply too much to wish for.

“Hey, hold on, hold on, hold on,” Derek stops them, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. He analyzes the woods around them. “Something doesn't feel right.”

Scott slings Fallon’s arm over his shoulder, trying to ease the pain she’s feeling as much as possible. Now that her adrenaline has worn off, she’s going to feel the ache of the bite for the next hour or so. That's what happened to him. “What do you mean?” He asks, both him and Fallon trying to see what’s making him skeptical.

“ I don't know,” Derek exhales. “It’s- it's kind of like it was–”

“No!” Scott interjects loudly. “Don’t say ‘too easy.’ People say ’too easy’ and bad things happen,” Derek rolls his head to the side irritatedly. Scott raises his eyebrows challengingly, “What, do you think finding you was easy? Getting away from Allison's dad? Fallon getting bit by your uncle?! None of this has been easy!” He exclaims.

Derek nods his head with a sigh, realizing he might be being a bit over dramatic. “Fine. You're right.”

Scott throws his head back, “Thank you. Now can we please go–”

Scott is cut off by a loud and high pitched whirring. Fallon’s head snaps into the direction it’s coming from, and she gasps as an arrow lodges itself into Derek’s shoulder. He topples over weakly, the wind being knocked out of him as his energy is still depleted after being tortured for the past two days.

“Derek!” She yells, rushing over to him. Another arrow flies through the air, nailing him in the leg. She drops down next to him, moving quickly to try and remove the arrows. She glances in the direction where Derek once had suspicions of and she sees Allison with a large bow in her hand, Kate standing by her side. She whispers something into her niece's ear.

“Now the flash-bolt.”

Fallon’s eyes widen, “Scott!” She screams. “Cover your eyes!” She surges forward, hiding Derek and her own face with her arms, hoping Scott had enough time to do it for himself.

He didn’t. The arrow fires, hitting the tree next to him. A bright light flashes, momentarily blinding the werewolf as he also falls to the ground. He grunts out in pain, the bright light giving him an instant headache. Derek clenches his teeth as Fallon finally pulls out the arrow in his leg. “I know, I know,” she says. “I’m sorry. But you gotta get up.”

She pulls him to his feet, their combined strength being enough to get both of them up. They pull each other closer to Scott, Derek grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. They stumble and fall as they try to run away. Fallon trips over a branch on the floor in front of the Hale house due to Derek losing his grip on her. All three of them fall to the floor, incapacitated in some way.

“Fallon! Scott! Go!” Derek begs them, hoping that they can find a way to escape. Scott sits there, his vision still not fully focused as Allison comes out of the tree line. Fallon grits her teeth in pain, having fallen on the side that’s still healing. Once Derek sees the hunter coming, he pulls Fallon over to him, blocking her body with his own.

Scott scoots backwards as his girlfriend/ex-girlfriend continues stalking towards him. “Allison, I can explain,” he says in a panic.

“Stop lying,” the girl stops him, not interested in what he has to say. “For once, stop lying,” she hisses.

“I was gonna tell you the truth at the formal. I was gonna tell you everything... because everything that I said, everything that I did–

“Was to protect me,” Allison interrupts rudely. She tilts her head condescendingly as Scott looks up at her with pleading eyes.

“Yes,” the boy confirms.

Tears well up in Allison’s eyes. She shakes her head at his sentiment, “I don’t believe you.”

Kate groans in relief, nonchalantly waltzing over to the scene with a gun in hand. “Thank God,” she huffs tiredly. “Now shoot him before I have to shoot myself.”

Fallon feels Derek tense up when Kate draws near. The newly bitten girl reaches forward, gently placing her hand on Derek’s back to assure him she’s still there. She shuffles around, moving into a more defensive position. Watching Allison betray her friends so easily makes Fallon realize where her loyalties really were this entire time. They were never safe with her. Maybe Peter was right.

Allison looks back at her aunt nervously. She blinks a few times, not comprehending the request. “You… you said we were just gonna catch them.”

“We did that,” Kate nods patronizingly. “Now we’re gonna kill them.” She raises her gun, firing one shot at Derek’s chest, right where Fallon had just pulled out the arrow. Fallon goes to try and attack the woman, but Kate is quick to cock the gun at her. She tilts her head, a menacing smile covering her face. “Too bad you had to go getting involved in things that didn’t concern you,” she pouts fakely. “I actually kind of liked you.” That’s when she pulls the trigger, a bullet whizzing into Fallon’s thigh. She grunts in pain, falling to the floor as blood pools around the wound. She starts applying pressure to it, trying to get the bullet to come to the surface. She remembers Derek saying that it won’t heal unless the bullet is out.

Allison feels the urge to run towards Fallon, but stops when Kate approaches her. “She-she’s innocent,” Allison says with glossy eyes. “She hasn’t done anything. She isn’t a werewolf.”

“Oh honey,” Kate giggles. “Why don’t you look at that big bite mark on her side? I’d beg to differ.” She turns her attention back towards a terrified looking Scott. “Now kill him.” Allison shifts uneasily. Her mouth opens and closes, at a loss for what to do. She can’t just kill the boy she loves. Kate’s face falls, a small groan leaving her lips. “Oh no… I know that look. That’s the ‘you’re gonna have to do it yourself’ look.” She sighs, clicking her tongue, but doesn’t hesitate to hold her gun up, directly aligned with Scott’s head.

Fallon ignores the bullet still lodged in her leg as she tries to crawl towards Scott. However, Derek is able to gain enough strength to pull her back down. He tugs the girl into his chest, preventing her from going anywhere near Kate or Allison. She whispers Scott’s name, calling for him, telling him to run. She wants to protect him, to throw her body in front of his, but Derek’s tight hold stops her. He keeps his arms coiled around her midsection, not giving her any room to escape.

Allison surges forward, “Kate– Kate, what are you doing?!” She tries to stop her aunt, but Kate is quick to shove Allison to the ground.

The older woman tilts her head, “I love those brown eyes…” She cooes before placing her finger methodically on the trigger, but just as she’s about to shoot, someone calls her name.

Chris.

“Kate!” The man’s commanding voice gets all of their attention. His gun is gripped tightly in his hand as he stares down his sister. He takes a step forward, “I know what you did,” he says accusatively. “Put the gun down.”

As the chaos unfolds around them, Fallon lays on the cold ground, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The pain from the gunshot wound radiates through her body, mingling with the strange, pulsing energy coursing under her skin as the transition into a werewolf slowly takes hold. She clutches her thigh, her fingers slick with blood, as Derek pushes himself up beside her, his own pain evident but masked behind his usual stoic expression.

"You need to focus," Derek murmurs, his voice low, barely above a whisper as he presses his hand over her wound, applying gentle pressure. His face is tight with pain, but his gaze never wavered from hers. "You’re healing… but you need to control it."

Fallon clenches her jaw, fighting to keep the overwhelming pain at bay. “It hurts, Derek…” Her voice is strained, barely managing to push the words out as her body trembled. She could hear Kate and Chris arguing in the background, but it felt distant, almost like a blur compared to the searing heat of her wound.

“I know,” Derek replies, his voice still calm, though the urgency in his eyes was clear. "But you’re stronger than this. The moon is giving you strength. Use it."

She nods weakly, squeezing her eyes shut. The energy from the moon seemed to flicker within her, almost like it was waiting for her to take control, but it was slipping through her fingers. Her breaths were shallow, each one sending a sharp pain through her chest.

Derek’s hand moves to her cheek, forcing her to look at him. His face was closer now, his eyes piercing through the fog of pain clouding her mind. “Fallon, breathe. You have to let the pain fuel you, not overwhelm you.”

She opens her eyes, her gaze meeting his, the connection between them grounding her in a way nothing else could. For a moment, the chaos around them fell away, and it was just Derek—steady, strong, a quiet force anchoring her. Fallon took a shaky breath, her fingers curling around his wrist for support. The warmth of his skin against hers was the only thing keeping her tethered to the moment.

“I’m trying,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Derek’s grip tightened, a flicker of something almost gentle in his otherwise stoic expression. "I know you are. You’re going to heal, Fallon. You’re not going anywhere."

The sound of Kate’s voice rang out again, “I did what I was told to do.” It’s a harsh contrast to the moment between them, but Derek didn’t flinch. Fallon, despite the agony she felt, found strength in his words. She took a deep breath, focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest next to hers, feeling the energy begin to shift inside her. The pain was still there, but it was duller now, less consuming.

"Stay with me," Derek murmurs, his voice low but firm. "Just a little longer."

Fallon nodded, her hand still holding onto him as the faint glimmer of healing began to take over. She wasn’t sure if she could fight off the transition completely, but with Derek beside her, she knew she wasn’t alone.

“No one asked you to murder innocent people! There were children in that house, ones who were human,” he stares at his sister with nothing but disappointment in his eyes. ”Look what you're doing now! You're holding a gun at a sixteen-year-old boy with no proof he's spilled human blood! We go by the Code– Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

“We hunt those who hunt us,” Allison whispers, suddenly regretting all of this evening's choices.

Kate rolls her eyes, moving to try and shoot Scott again, until Chris points his gun directly at her head. “Put the gun down,” he commands firmly. When Kate doesn’t surrender, he pulls the trigger, the bullet barely missing Kate’s face, launching into the tree behind her. “Before I put you down,” his voice is laced with warning.

Kate finally listens, allowing Scott a moment to breathe. Then there’s a small creaking sound that makes everyone tense up as they look to the front door of the burnt down house. Derek is quick to scoot him and Fallon back, both of them getting the sense that the following events are not going to be pretty.

“Allison,” Chris cautiously calls out to his daughter. “Get back.”

The door opens slowly, an eerie tone filling the atmosphere. Chris and Kate’s gun immediately goes to the door. Scott shoots up to his feet, claws out and ready for a fight. Derek and Fallon on the other hand stand up slowly and carefully. Derek’s eyes flash blue, “Stay behind me,” he whispers.

Fallon scoffs, her own eyes flashing back at him in offense. She can’t control them, but it was the perfect moment of retaliation. “No,” she defies him, moving to stand at his side. “I’m helping.”

He growls under his breath, but figures this isn’t the best time to lecture her. He rolls his neck, his Cannes slowly revealing themselves. Fallon gulps, realizing that might be her by the time the next full moon rolls around.

Instead of heeding her father’s warning, Allison gets up and grips her bow tightly. “What is it?” She questions.

“It’s the Alpha,” Scott answers.

One by one, the circle of people are taken down by Peter. Chris goes down first, then Allison, and then Scott. Which leaves Kate being the only one standing. She spins around, trying to catch Peter in a moment of weakness, her gun at the ready. “Come on!” She taunts the powerful man, urging him to try and get her. “Come on!”

For whatever reason, Peter leaves Derek and Fallon untouched. They both watch curiously, waiting for a moment to intervene. But watching Kate squirm wasn’t such a terrible thing. Fallon would probably have cared a bit more if the woman hadn’t just shot here a mere three minutes ago.

As Kate spins around once more, Peter appears in front of her. His hand grabs her wrist, the one holding the gun. She grunts out in pain as he squeezes her arm so tightly that his knuckles turn white. She fires her gun, desperately hoping one of the bullets hits him, but it’s of no use. Every single one of them fly in the air, the casings gracefully falling down to the floor.

Peter hits her hand roughly causing the blonde woman to scream and drop her gun. Her scream is halted by Peter wrapping his hand around her neck. Apparently the Hale’s have a thing for strangulation. She screams in pain as Peter chucks her across the clearing and onto the front porch of the house. She cries out, her back hitting the rotting wood with a loud thud before Peter drags her into the house.

“No!” Allison screams, running into the house in hopes of saving her aunt.

A lot of commotion goes on inside the house. Derek moves to go towards the front door, but once he notices Fallon trying to follow him, he stops. He grabs her by the arms, picking her up and setting her down far behind him. “You’re not coming with me,” he says.

“Yes,” she corrects him. “I am.”

“No,” he mocks her tone. “You’re not. You’re going to stay out here where it’s safe.”

“The second you leave I won’t be safe!” She argues with him. “Just stop being a stubborn ass and let me go with you!”

Derek lets out an annoyed breath, but nonetheless allows the brunette to follow him in. Scott also joins them as they dart inside the house, just in time as Peter starts to advance on Allison. Scott and Derek transform easily, baring their teeth as they get ready to attack Peter. Loud growls escape their lips as Fallon just stands there, struggling to even get her claws to show. They make this look much easier than it actually is.

Scott charges towards Peter, the two of them fighting which gives Derek enough time to help Fallon. “Stop thinking so much!” He yells at her. “It won’t happen if you overthink it.”

“I’m trying, Derek!” She snaps, ducking as a piece of wood flies at her head, courtesy of Scott and Peter. “Not exactly like riding a bike!”

Peter turns his attention towards his nephew after he’s satisfied with throwing Scott around. Derek grunts, “Dig deep!” He advises. “Find something that makes you angry. That makes your pulse rise, and lean into it.”

Peter laughs, punching Derek in the face with no remorse. “She’s not ready. You’re sending her to her death, Derek.”

Scott stands up and lunges at Peter, claws outstretched, but Peter sidesteps effortlessly, sending him crashing into the wall. Fallon watches, heart racing, knowing she needs to help, but her body isn't responding. She’s stuck between human and whatever she is, unable to break free.

“Fallon!” Derek barks at her. “You can do this. Focus on your heart rate. Get angry and use it.”

Fallon squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself to block out the sound of Peter’s taunts, the chaos around her. She focuses on the rhythmic pounding of her heart, letting it grow louder in her ears. She thinks about the fear she felt for Allison, the anger towards Peter, and the fire in her blood when Derek yelled at her. The tension of the moment surges through her body, sparking something deep inside.

Her pulse quickened, and with it, she felt the shift. Her body responded, bones snapping and realigning as her form began to change. The pain is excruciating, but she embraces it, letting the power of the full moon wash over her. Her senses sharpening, her vision clearing, and suddenly, the wolf inside her is unleashed.

The energy coursing through her feels unstoppable, like she can tear the entire house apart with her bare hands. She locks eyes with Peter, her eyes glowing a bright shade of purple, her lips curling back into a snarl as she steps forward, her claws glinting in the dim light.

Peter’s smirk falters, just for a moment, as he takes in her form. “Interesting,” he muses, “but still inexperienced.”

Fallon charges at him, moving faster than she ever thought possible, her claws slicing through the air. Derek and Scott flank her, working together to keep Peter on the defensive. Fallon’s blows are powerful, each one sending shockwaves through the room, but Peter dodges them with ease, his experience as an Alpha giving him the upper hand.

Scott manages to land a punch to Peter’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. Fallon sees her opening and leaps forward, swiping at his chest with all her strength. Her claws meet flesh, leaving deep gashes across Peter’s torso, but it isn’t enough to bring him down.

Peter roars in fury, his red eyes glowing with rage as he swipes at Fallon, knocking her off her feet. She crashes into the wall with a grunt, the wind knocked out of her. Before she can recover, Peter is on her, his hand wrapping around her throat as he lifts her off the ground.

“You think you can fight me?” Peter growls, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re nothing but a child playing with power you don’t understand.”

Fallon claws at his arm, trying to break free, but his grip is like iron. She gasps for air, her vision blurring as the edges of her consciousness begin to fade.

Suddenly, Derek is there, ramming into Peter and knocking him off balance. Fallon falls to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath. Derek stands over her protectively, his own body battered but still standing strong.

Scott joins them, standing beside Derek as the two of them face off against Peter. "Fallon, stay down!" Scott shouts, but Fallon isn’t done yet. She pushes herself to her feet, her body trembling with exhaustion but her determination unwavering.

Peter chuckles darkly, wiping the blood from his mouth. “Is this all you’ve got? Three against one, and you still can’t take me down?”

The three of them run at Peter together, their attacks coordinated, but it still isn’t enough. Peter is faster, stronger, and more experienced. He blocks their blows with ease, countering with vicious strikes that send them sprawling across the room.

Fallon tries to stand again, but her body wouldn’t obey. The shift has taken too much out of her, and her strength is fading fast. She watches as Derek and Scott continue to fight, but they are losing ground.

Peter grabs Scott by the throat, lifting him off the ground just as he had with Fallon. Derek tries to intervene, but Peter swatted him away like he was nothing. “This ends now,” Peter growls, his red eyes glowing with lethal intent.

He throws Scott out of what could’ve been the only window left standing in this house. His body hits the woodsy floor with a loud crash, leaving Derek and Fallon badly beaten on the floorboards inside. Peter jumps out the window, fully transformed as he focuses his full attention on Scott. Fallon groans as she tries to crawl over to Derek who is writhing in pain on the floor. She hears a loud honk from outside and immediately gets a whiff of Stiles’ scent.

“I’ll be back,” she whispers to Derek, placing her palm on his chest. “Don’t move. Let yourself heal,” she instructs him, leaving before he could protest.

Once she exits the house, she jumps backwards as a bottle of liquid flies past her and towards Peter. A Molotov cocktail. She smiles, happy Stiles remembered that little tidbit from the night in the school. Unfortunately, Peter catches the flask with ease.

“Oh, damn…” Stiles says weakly.

Scott’s eyes travel to Allison’s bow and arrow. His golden eyes light up with an idea, “Allison!” He shouts, throwing the weapon over to her. Fallon is quick to jump out of the way as the hunter fires an arrow, hitting the glass dead on. The collision causes the flask to explode, fire encasing Peter’s form.

Everyone watches in complete horror as the man tries to put out the flames on his arm, but it’s no use. Especially when Jackson chucks another flask at him, hitting his other side. His entire body is now on fire. He growls in pain, staggering aimlessly around the front yard of his old home. Fallon would feel bad for the man, he’s about to die the same way he did the first time, but he did try to kill her and her friends countless times. Her empathy can only go so far.

She notices the flaming Alpha about to attack Allison. A low growl reverberates in her throat as she charges at him without much thought. Scott does the same, both of them striking Peter harshly, which sends him spiraling into the trees in the other direction.

Peter shifts back into his human form, his skin completely torched. Scott and Fallon heave heavily where they stand, both of them still stuck in their werewolf form. Or in Fallon’s case, what appears to be a werewolf-like form.

Inappropriately timed, Allison carefully walks over to Scott, kissing him softly. Fallon looks away, not believing after just trying to kill them that Allison has the audacity to do this. Especially in front of her hunter father.

Stiles’ eyes glaze over Fallon’s form. He lets out a relieved sigh, knowing she’s alive and well. But he’s also slightly terrified. She’s a werewolf. At least, he thinks she is. He watches as the brunette closes her eyes, sucking in a deep breath and suddenly she transforms back. Not a trace of werewolf on her. She did that a lot quicker than Scott did.

Fallon twirls in a circle, wondering if Derek ever made his way out of the house. She gets her answer when she hears leaves crunching under someone’s heavy footsteps. Her eyes snap over to Derek who is stalking towards Peter, a clear mission to accomplish.

“Derek?” She calls out softly to him. He doesn’t stop moving. He doesn’t even look back at her. She furrows her eyebrows, “What are you doing?”

He stops over his Uncle’s twitching body, straddling him. The only thing on Derek’s mind is vengeance and power. His claws protrude out where his nails should be and Scott scrambles to his feet. “Wait!” the boy begs Derek, running over to stop him. “You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. Derek, if you do this, I'm dead. Her father, her family–what am I supposed to do?”

Everyone watches tensely. Derek doesn’t even bother turning around, he just keeps his burning gaze on Peter. No one’s sure what his next move will be. Most of them hoping he chooses the path to help Scott.

“You've... already... decided…” Peter says weakly “I can smell it on you...!”

Without even a second's hesitation, Derek raises his hand in the air, claws at the ready. “Wait! No, no! Don’t!” Scott shouts, but it’s too late. Blood flies through the air from Peter’s slashed throat. The man gurgles on his own blood before the red fades from his irises, the power transferring into Derek.

Fallon’s jaw is on the floor. She takes a step back from Derek, a small amount of fear creeping up inside of her. She didn’t think Derek would kill anyone. Even though Peter was a psychotic serial killer, she still never expected Derek to take his life. Let alone for the power of an Alpha. His eyes meet hers, his once blue irises turning into a deep shade of red. One that she isn’t used to.

“I’m the Alpha now.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“Do we really think this is necessary?” Fallon asks Scott quietly as he unlocks the door to the animal clinic. “I’m really not that curious.”

“You might not be, but the rest of us are,” Scott counters. “And I think Deaton might be able to help give us some answers.”

“How could your boss possibly know what I am? Last time I checked, his specialty was dogs and cats, not were-people,” she says sarcastically.

“He knows a lot more than I do,” Scott tells her with a quickened tone. “Trust me. I think he can help.” He guides her to the back room where Deaton is already waiting. He has a small smile on his face as if he were already expecting them to come in.

"So," Deaton begins, his voice steady, “I hear you’ve had quite the night.”

Fallon offers a tired, sarcastic smirk. “You could say that.”

Scott, still trying to process everything himself, jumps in. “Deaton, you have to help her. She’s different. The way she shifted, the strength—everything’s just... different.”

Deaton’s brow furrows slightly as he looks from Scott to Fallon, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Different how?”

Fallon shifts in her spot, rubbing her hands together anxiously. “I don’t know… It was like I couldn’t control it at first, but then, when I finally did, it was… intense.” She hesitates, searching for the right words. “It felt like the moon was... in me. Not just influencing me but actually... fueling me. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Deaton leans back slightly, a rare hint of intrigue flickering across his normally composed face. “The moon was fueling you?”

Scott nods enthusiastically. “It’s not like how I turn, Deaton. She—she’s different. Like, stronger.” He pauses, “And her eyes are purple!”

Deaton moves toward one of his bookshelves, pulling down a heavy, worn tome. He places it gently on the table, opening it with care as Fallon and Scott lean in, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever knowledge the pages hold.

“I’ve read about something like this before,” Deaton says, flipping through the pages. “But only in legends. The kind of thing passed down through the ages, not meant to be believed, just stories.”

Scott’s eyes widen as he stares at the book. “Legends?”

Deaton stops on a page filled with intricate drawings and old, faded text. “Lunar Sentinels. Guardians of the moon’s power. Werewolves unlike any others, tied directly to the lunar cycle. But not just influenced by it—amplified by it. The moon’s energy flows through them, granting them heightened abilities, strength, and instincts.”

Fallon blinks, trying to absorb the gravity of what Deaton was saying. “So… that’s me? I’m a Lunar Sentinel?”

Deaton nods slowly. “It’s incredibly rare. I’ve never encountered one in my lifetime. I’ve only read about them in texts like this, and even these are more legend than fact. Most werewolves don’t have such a strong connection to the moon, but you... you’re different.”

Scott shakeshis head in disbelief. “Wait, so Fallon’s... like a werewolf, but more powerful?”

“Not necessarily more powerful, but... unique.” Deaton explains. “She’s directly tied to the moon’s energy, which can give her abilities other werewolves don’t have, particularly during certain phases of the moon. But with that power comes unpredictability.”

Fallon’s brows furrow. “Unpredictability?”

Deaton closes the book softly, his gaze meeting hers. “The stronger the connection to the moon, the more volatile it can be. You’ll need to learn control, Fallon, perhaps even more than Scott did. The moon’s phases will affect you differently, and you may find yourself stronger during full moons... and more vulnerable during new moons.”

Scott rubs the back of his neck, still processing. “So, what do we do? How do we help her?”

Deaton smiles faintly. “You’ll need to train, both of you. Fallon will have to learn how to harness this power, how to control it. The strength that comes with being a Lunar Sentinel is a gift, but without control, it could be dangerous.”

Fallon swallows, her heart pounding in her chest. The weight of everything is now suddenly overwhelming. She never asked for this, never wanted it, but now it was hers. The idea of being something so rare, so powerful, scared her as much as it intrigued her.

Scott reaches out and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, Fall. We’ll figure it out together.”

She nods, feeling a surge of gratitude for Scott’s unwavering support. “Thanks, Scott. I... I appreciate it.”

Deaton, ever the calm guide, stands once more. “I’ll look into more information about Lunar Sentinels, but for now, just focus on grounding yourself. The moon may fuel you, but you are in control of your own power.”

As they turn to leave, Scott couldn’t help but glance back at Deaton one last time. “This is crazy. We’re really dealing with something... legendary here, huh?”

Deaton smiles knowingly. “In Beacon Hills, Scott, legends have a way of becoming reality.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Returning home from the animal clinic felt odd to Fallon. She doesn’t know what to do with all this newfound information about herself. She barely even knew what to tell her dad about her disappearing after the formal. Thankfully, Chris Argent gave her and Scott a pretty good alibi, despite the older man pretty much hating Scott.

She collapses onto her bed, her eyes going straight up to the ceiling, “I’m a werewolf…” she mumbles.

“That’s one way to come to terms with it.”

Fallon shoots up in her bed, eyes widening as she sees Derek just casually sitting in her desk chair. He gently closes the book he was reading, his eyes meeting hers with their usual stoic glare. Yet his words have some sort of playfulness to them.

““Jesus, Derek!” she yelps, clutching her chest. “Can’t you knock like a normal person?”

He shrugs, his usual intense stare is locked on her. “I needed to see you,” he explains shortly.

Fallon rolls her eyes, her pulse still racing from the jumpscare. “Well, you scared the crap out of me. One of these days, you're going to actually give me a heart attack.”

Derek’s expression softens ever so slightly, but his eyes hold the weight of everything that had happened. “I wanted to apologize.”

Fallon frowns, crossing her arms. Apologizing isn’t exactly Derek’s thing, so whatever this is, it has to be serious. “Apologize? For what?”

“For killing Peter in front of you,” he says quietly, standing from the chair and taking a step towards her. “And for not being able to stop you from getting bitten.”

The sincerity in his voice hits her like a punch to the gut. Fallon shakes her head, trying to brush it off. “Derek, you don’t have to apologize. Peter was a psycho. I’m not exactly losing any sleep over him being dead.”

Derek’s jaw tightens, and he glances down as if weighing his next words carefully. “Still... I should’ve protected you better.”

Fallon huffs, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I don’t need protecting, Derek. And, in case you forgot, you were kind of busy getting your ass kicked at the time. I’m not exactly holding it against you.”

Derek looked back up at her, his eyes searching hers. “You’re taking this better than I expected.”

“Being bitten and turned into a werewolf? Oh yeah, piece of cake,” Fallon remarks sarcastically, though the smile on her face told a different story. She rubs the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension. “I mean, it’s a lot to process, sure. But it’s not like I can change what happened. So, I just have to deal with it.”

Derek’s lips twitched slightly, a ghost of a smile. “You’re handling it better than most would.”

“Well, I’ve had good company,” Fallon replies, smirking. “Plus, Deaton gave me some... interesting news today.”

“About what you are?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding, the weight of the information still settling in her mind. “Apparently, I’m not just a regular werewolf. I’m a Lunar Sentinel.”

Derek’s brow furrows, though Fallon can see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “A Lunar Sentinel?”

“Yep, a living myth,” Fallon says with a wry smile. “Deaton said they’re rare. You know, super special. No big deal.” She shrugs with a polite brag.

Derek crosses his arms, leaning against her desk. “He’s right. Lunar Sentinels are rare... almost unheard of.”

Fallon raises an eyebrow, her grin widening. “So, you’re telling me I’m one of a kind?”

Derek’s lips quirk into a faint smile. “Always were.”

Fallon snorts. “Right. Because if there’s anything I needed on top of this whole werewolf drama, it’s a mystical title and the weight of centuries-old legends hanging over my head.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Derek says surely. “You always do.”

“I guess,” Fallon shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. “But seriously, if I’d known turning into a werewolf would come with this much responsibility, I might’ve considered running a little faster when Peter came at me and Lydia.”

Derek’s expression shifts to something softer, almost amused. “You didn’t run.”

“Yeah, well...” Fallon waves a hand. “Maybe I should’ve.”

Derek shakes his head, stepping closer to her. “You don’t run from anything.”

Fallon glances up at him, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “Neither do you.”

For a moment, they stand in comfortable silence, the tension between them gone, replaced by something else. Something lighter.

“So,” Fallon says, breaking the silence, “are you done lurking in my room, or...?”

Derek smirks. “I don’t lurk.”

“Sure, you don’t,” Fallon teases. “Next time, try knocking. It’s a pretty standard practice among normal humans.”

“I’ll consider it,” Derek replies, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

Fallon can’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re the one that keeps letting me in,” he shoots back, his eyes flicking over her face before softening again. "But seriously, if you ever need help... with the transition, the shifting, any of it... I'm here."

Fallon nods, her teasing demeanor melting away for a moment. “Thanks, Derek.”

Derek gives her one last lingering look before turning to leave, but Fallon calls after him. “And next time, I better hear a knock!”

Derek’s only response is a faint chuckle as he disappears through the window.

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