#you just asked what would happen if he was confronted

[themultifanshipper]

It was a lot of fun, being persued by by two Formula 1 drivers. 

But they would soon be getting tired of the chase. They weren't going to let you stay ahead of them for much longer. 

Warnings: smut, finally bottom franco, technically a threesome but not really, restraints (belt), edging, shower sex, anal (mxm), face fucking, tension?

Anon originally had an idea with journalist reader but I went in another direction :3

The tension between you and Max had been brewing since your rookie year. 

You'd instantly taken a liking to each other and hung out all the time whenever you had breaks. 

You'd been on his yacht, he'd been to your family's vineyard for some wine tasting. You were good friends, and you knew each other exceedingly well. 

And of course it wasn't rare for the two of you to find yourselves battling for positions on track, and even came together a couple of times over the years. 

That lead to some pretty heated arguments, you even took a swing at him once. You were both hot-headed competitors, it was inevitable. 

Nothing ever happened between you though, you'd always kept a sensible distance to your coworkers. 

But you couldn't help being a tease. 

You'd put sexy bikini pictures of yourself on holiday in your private story, which only Max had access to. 

He figured it out pretty quickly when no one else seemed to know what the hell he was talking about when he asked them about it. 

And then Franco arrived. 

But he never pushed. If this was a game you wanted to play, he could wait it out, no problem. If you got desperate enough you would come crawling to him, he was sure of it. 

Franco was the biggest flirt you'd ever seen. Surpassing the likes of Daniel and Carlos as the smoothest talker on the grid. 

 He was slightly closer to you in age, so you gravitated towards each other naturally. 

You went on holiday with him a couple of times, and you went clubbing a lot. 

So pretty soon the rumours shifted from you and Max, to you and Franco. 

And there were pictures circulating. You and Max had had your fair share of paparazzi nuisances, but with Franco it was on another level. 

It was impossible to see each other without photos coming out the next day. 

Some were photoshopped, like the ones of you and him on your yacht, kissing.  

Or at least that's what your PR team told the public. 

You hadn't slept with him of course, but 4 glasses of wine is 4 glasses of wine. 

That's 3 too many if you want to keep a clear head. And day drinking in the sun is a dangerous game when you're alone with a horny man on a yacht. 

But you politely rejected his advances, insisting that your relationship was supposed to be professional. 

Max saw the photos. Of course he did. And he knew they weren't fake, so the next time he saw you he confronted you. 

Much to the chagrin of both of your bodies’ needs. 

“So how's it going with Colapinto?” he asked, faking nonchalance while you waved to the fans at the drivers parade. 

“Nothing's going on, don't be jealous” you plastered a fake smile on your face for the cameras. 

“I'm not jealous” he snapped. 

“Sure you aren't, Max. Anyway I keep my love life, and sex life, separate from my career, you know that”  

He scoffed, turning away from you to talk to whoever was on his other side.  

During the next week you decided to spice things up a little. 

The race weekend went by without a hitch, and Max didn't bring it up again. 

You sent Max a dirty picture. 

Nothing too bad, just you in some lingerie and a see through robe that hid absolutely nothing.  

You followed it up with “shit, that wasn't for you sorry” 

If that didn't get Max riled up nothing would. 

But to your disappointment, he didn't reply. 

That night you got yourself off to Franco's answering texts instead. You sent the same picture with the same caption, and waited for him to take the bait. 

The next weekend Max cornered you in the paddock on media day. 

He’d played the game at least, sending you a delicious picture in return, in the name of fairness. 

He dragged you to a quiet corner and caged you in against the wall. 

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he hissed, pressing you against the wall. 

“What the fuck Max! What are you even talking abou-” 

“I'm not fucking stupid, I know that picture was for me” 

You sighed. 

“No it wasn't, Max” 

“Who was it for, then?” 

“Wouldn't you like to know” you smirked, which just made him angrier. 

“Yes, I would actually”  

You pushed him off roughly and he stumbled backwards, taken off guard by your sudden aggressiveness. 

“None of your fucking business. And if you want to fuck me, this really isn't the right way to go about it” 

The next day, lord knows how, Franco managed to sneak into your driver’s room. 

You sauntered off, leaving Max to fume in silence at your audacity. 

“I enjoyed that picture very much, you know” he mumbled as he approached you from behind. 

He quickly plastered himself to your back, hands on your hips while he felt you up. 

“I'm sure you did. But it was an accident” your voice shook as his hands wandered. 

He chuckled. “I am not convinced of that”  

He placed kisses along the side of your neck, trailing upwards towards your lips as he turned your head to look at him. 

“Any chance I can see more?” 

His lidded eyes bore into yours and you sighed, pushing him away half-heartedly.  

“No Franco. I can't go around sleeping with my coworkers. It's not professional” 

He smirked. “Not professional? Tell me, who was that picture for?” 

You hesitated a second too long. 

“You don't know him.” 

He bit his lip mockingly, he knew you were lying. “Okay. I guess will just go then”  

Max won the race. He was back on his A-game and you’d spent the second part of the race squabbling with Franco and Alex over 10th place for the last point. 

And he did, he slipped out without anyone noticing him, leaving you to contemplate your next move. 

You got it, at the expense of Franco's front wing. 

“That was a dirty move” he groaned into your neck. 

You'd found yourselves back in the same position, him grinding against your ass, this time in the club while the bass made your bodies thrum with excitement. 

“If you want to get my attention, crashing into me isn't the right way to go about it” 

You shivered, both at his tone and at the fact that you'd said almost exactly that to Max three days prior. 

“Why would I want your attention?” you murmured back, enjoying the feeling of his hands caressing your body. 

“Darling, we both know you want to fuck me” 

You turned around in his hold, giving him the most seductive eyes you could muster. 

“No I don't” 

He groaned and threw his head back in frustration. 

“Don't do this to me. We both want it, stop playing around and let me show you how good I can make you feel…” 

You smiled and leaned in. 

“But where's the fun in that?” 

You removed his hands from you body and slinked back into the crowd. 

What you didn't know is that Max was in the DJ booth with Lando, and with his vantage point he could see everything. 

Running away, once again. 

He saw you slip away through the crowd and over to the bar. 

His blood boiled and he decided to take action. 

But he didn't make his way to you. He went to see Franco instead. 

“Mate I need to talk to you” 

“Ok, mate” Franco was confused, but followed him towards the bathrooms anyway, where it was slightly quieter. 

“Did she send you a picture of herself last week?” Max was going straight to point. 

Franco hesitated. “Who?” 

Max rolled his eyes at the younger man “You know who, don't play stupid” 

The sudden thought that you might be in a relationship with Max flashed through Franco’s mind. 

What if he'd read the situation all wrong? What if Max had found out about the flirting and was actually about to beat him up? 

“No?” he answered, but it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. 

Max looked unimpressed. 

“Give me your phone” 

Franco complied immediately.  

Max proceeded to scroll through his messages, and clicked on the conversation with you. 

The picture of Franco appeared on his screen first, and he looked up at the man incredulously. 

“You sent one back? It was obviously bait. Are you stupid?” 

“I know it's all a game to her” he snatched his phone back “but playing it got me a very nice picture of her so who cares?” 

“I'm not playing the game and I got the same fucking photo” 

Franco frowned at his phone, and had to admit, he had him there. Maybe he had been stupid. 

“Well… you keep not playing, and I will keep playing, and we will see who get her to break first?” he suggested. 

“No” Max snapped. “I am sick of not playing”  

He glanced at Franco's screen, where the photo of you was still visible. 

They completely ignored you for two whole weeks. 

“She has been teasing us for too long. Now it's time she learned her lesson”… 

They avoided you at the weekend, and they never returned any of your calls and messages. 

You even tried sending them more pictures, but they both left you on read. 

You were bored. 

You knew something was up when you spotted the two of them deep in conversation in front of the Redbull garage. They were plotting. 

Max was pretty much your best friend on the grid, and you missed messing around with Franco. 

So on Saturday night, you sent them both a text you knew they wouldn't be able to ignore. 

Well Max might, but Franco would definitely crack. 

To Franco, you sent “If you come and fuck me now, I won't tell Max” 

And to Max, “If you come fuck me now, I won't tell Franco” 

You sent them both your room number, and waited. They both saw the texts immediately. 

Max had too much self control, so you doubted whether he would be desperate enough to show. 

You waited barely 20 minutes before Franco was at your door. 

But Franco…  

He was so easy. 

You had him on the bed, laying under you while you made your way down his body, picking off his clothing bit by bit. 

“I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me”  

His pupils were blown wide and a slight blush was creeping up his neck. 

“The offer was too good to pass up” he groaned as you rubbed yourself over the bulge rapidly growing in his boxers. 

You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you and roll you over. 

“Your teasing has been driving me crazy” he panted, hovering over you while he made quick work of your clothes. 

“Why do you think I was doing it” you muttered with a smile, and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he realised how much you'd been enjoying teasing him. 

“To make me lose it and come fuck the shit out of you?” he asked, exasperated. 

“That's the plan” you bit your lip, looking up at him with a smile. 

“Perra” he groaned, sitting up. “Turn over” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, doing as he said. 

His hands were palming your ass while he admired the view, when a sharp knock at the door broke the tense silence. 

Your jaw dropped as you looked back at Franco who was wearing a similar look of shock on his face. 

Neither of you knew quite what to do, and the knock sounded again, louder this time. 

You jumped to your feet, grabbing a robe on the way and opened the door. 

Max stood there, fists clenched. 

“Max…” 

“Is Franco in there?” 

You were taken aback by his question. 

“And bear in mind, the answer is going to determine how this evening goes for you” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but was saved answering by Franco appearing next to you. 

“I am here… sorry” 

He looked slightly afraid, and it was understandable, because the grin that spread over Max's face was evil enough to scare even you. 

“I had a feeling you would be here” he stepped inside, crowding against you as he slammed the door behind him. “Option number two, then”… 

You didn't know what option number one was, but number two involved you having your hands tied to the headboard, while Max had his cock shoved down Franco's throat. 

Which is not something you ever thought you would see. 

But there Franco was, drooling around Max’s girth with red cheeks and tears in his eyes. 

You knew he was enjoying it though, because he was still wearing his boxers and the wet patch at the front was getting steadily larger. 

“Look at you” Max cooed “are you crying because you got caught betraying me just to get your dick wet?” 

Franco whined, hips bucking at Max's tone. 

“Or are you crying because you’re enjoying this a bit too much?” 

Franco closed his eyes, more tears falling as he breathed deeply through his nose. 

“You were fucking made for this. You've obviously had practice, slut ” 

Franco whimpered pathetically and you throbbed at the sound. 

You were fully naked, spread out for Max to admire. 

“And you” he snapped at you. “You have been teasing me for years, making me wait, while posting pictures of yourself for my eyes only. Then this little bitch arrives and you let him touch you? Absolutely not” 

He pulled out of Franco's mouth and manhandled him onto his hands and knees, facing you while Max dragged his boxers down his legs. 

Franco's eyes widened as he looked at you, glancing between your thighs at where you were glistening in the soft light. 

“You've been playing games with me since you joined the grid. And you would just let Franco have you after a couple of months? Over my dead fucking body” 

He pushed Franco down onto the bed, making his arms buckle and his back arch obscenely, and the younger man gasped. 

“So I'm going to fuck Franco, and you are going to watch.” 

God knows where the bottle of lube came from, but you were grateful for it, on Franco's behalf. 

The way Franco reacted when the first finger went it made you gasp softly. 

His eyes fluttered closed and he arched his back even more, pushing back against Max as he let out a porn worthy whimper. 

You were getting so turned on, you went to close your thighs but Max tutted. 

“Franco, hold her legs open” 

He obeyed, shuffled forwards and curled his hands around your knees to hold you in place. 

Unfortunately, that brought his face closer to your soaked folds and you could feel his cool breath down there. 

You whimpered and he groaned, leaning his head against one of your knees as he looked at your slick lips with a pained look on his face. 

“Don't you dare touch, Franco” Max growled “You need to learn patience” 

He was on three fingers already, and he was entranced by the way Franco's hole swallowed them greedily. 

He made quick work of lubing himself up and pushing into the younger man, who mewled at the stretch. 

“Jesus, you are tight.” He gritted his teeth as he pushed in to the hilt. “squeezing around me so good, maybe I should give up on her and just keep you as my plaything, hmm?” 

He gave an experimental thrust and Franco whined low in his throat as he looked up at you through lidded eyes. 

He looked so fucked out it was almost pathetic. 

But to be honest, you probably looked even worse. 

You squirmed against the bed, unable to get any sort of friction or stimulation as you were forced to watch Max rail Franco into the mattress. 

“You're fucking dripping” Max commented, finally glancing at where you could indeed feel the sheets under you becoming damp. 

He wrapped an arm around Franco's middle, shuffling him forwards until he was only an inch away from your soaked folds. 

“You want a taste Franco?” 

The younger man nodded as best he could with Max’s grip his hair. 

Max just chuckled and pushed Franco's face forward, allowing him to eat you out hastily. 

The sudden intense stimulation made you writhe under him, cursing as he sucked on your clit while his tongue delved into your wetness. 

“Fuck! Oh my god-“ you whined, hips trying to buck but Franco's hold on your thighs was too strong as he devoured you. 

As your moans increased in pitch, Max could tell you were getting closer and just as you were about to fall over the precipice, he pulled Franco's head back roughly. 

You cried out at the loss, and Max just chuckled, slamming his hips into Franco even harder. 

“Max please” you whined, and Max cooed in mock simpathy. 

He pushed Franco against you once again, revelling in the way he tightened around his cock at being manhandled like this. 

He angled his hips so that his cock pushed against Franco's prostate, and the vibrations of the resounding moan against your cunt got you right to the edge once again. 

But again, when Max saw your thighs start to tremble, he pulled on Franco's hair to separate him from you. 

Tears clung to your lashes as you were robbed of yet another orgasm, and Franco let out a loud moan. 

“I'm gonna come, Max!” he cried, and Max just picked up the pace of his hips. 

“Then come, I'm not stopping you” 

Once Franco had come down from his mind-numbing orgasm, Max pulled out of him carefully and rolled him over, making sure to avoid the puddle of cum now in the middle of the bed. 

Franco's eyes rolled back and his upper body slumped against the mattress as Max continued to pound into him while you watched helplessly. 

“You can go now, I will take it from here” he muttered as he handed Franco his clothes. 

You looked at Max. 

He looked at you on his way out, sending you a kiss before the door slammed shut behind him. 

He was making his way around the bed to come and untie you from the headboard. 

You weren't quite sure what to say to him as you stretched your arms. 

He walked into to the bathroom and turned the shower on, then poked his head around the doorway. 

“Come and join me”  

You got off the bed hesitantly. 

Was that it? Were you going to take a shower and then he’d leave? Or stay with you and talk? 

You weren't sure which option you hated more. 

You got to the bathroom and he was already under the water, cleaning himself without a care in the world. 

You approached him, putting an hand on his shoulder. 

“Max? Are you angry with me?” 

He huffed out a laugh. 

“No, why would I be angry?” 

He kept washing himself, and you had no idea what to answer. 

He had every right to be pissed after all. 

He looked at your confused face and chuckled. 

“No, I am not angry with you” 

You nodded, and he moved over a bit and pulled you under the spray. 

He pulled you against his chest and looked down at you. 

“I'm not angry, but I am sick of your games” 

You gulped. 

You could feel him against your hip, he was still hard. 

“You didn't come” you muttered, and he smiled. 

“Neither did you” 

Your heart was beating fast as you stared at him. 

“Are you planning to?” 

He nodded. 

“Oh yes. But you have a choice to make. Either I fuck you now, and we both come.” 

His hand came to cup your jaw as his thumb stroked your cheek. 

“Or, I leave right now, and you’ll never get to know how good you could've had it these past two years.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your cunt throbbed at the idea of finally getting to fuck Max. 

“Well?” his other hand trailed downwards to ghost over your folds, dipping in ever so slightly, to confirm that you were still soaked. “What will it be?” 

You gasped, head leaning back against the tiles of the shower wall. 

“Fuck me, please” 

He grinned. “That's what I was hoping for” 

He wasted no time turning you around and pushing into you roughly, your wetness easing the slide as he bottomed out on the first thrust. 

You both groaned, and he snapped his hips, determined to hear that noise again. 

He made you come twice like that, pressed against the shower wall as he took the frustration of the past two years out on you. 

He did indeed make you regret not giving in to him sooner. 

Later, in bed, you cuddled together after having changed the sheets. 

“So tell me Max. If tying me up and fucking Franco in front of me was option number two… what was option number one if Franco hadn't been here?” 

He chuckled, pulling you tighter against him. 

“If you had been alone, I would have tied you to the bed and left you there alone" 

You gasped. 

“and Franco?” 

“I would have fucked him anyway, to congratulate him for not giving in to you” 

You went silent. Thank god for Franco’s weak will. 

“Can I fuck him?" you asked "I really want to"

Max nuzzled into your neck and nipped at your skin. 

“Of course. As long as I can keep fucking you, I don’t really care” 

You hummed and turned your head, looking into his deep blue eyes.  

“Sounds good to me” 

He smiled, giving you a quick kiss before laying his head back on the pillow. 

“Me too” 

You giggled sleepily.  

Just like you planned. 

You had your best friend back, and two men were at your beck and call.  

[roxineedstosleep]

Ok, I love it because Merlin is literally the youngest of the entire council, and therefore only acts as the advisor he is when there are important meetings.

But he is still a child. At least to the older councilors. And Merlin is youthful as his age dictates.

Like a child who is becoming an adult and is eager to learn and do his best. He is still clumsy, doesn't quite know court etiquette, and tends to interrupt speeches when he doesn't listen well.

Even though the meetings he goes to always end well, it is still somewhat tense considering he has only been with them for a short time.

Proposed scenario:

Camelot has been in tension with a neighboring kingdom for months, due to an altercation between the respective armies of each kingdom within the border area. Meeting after meeting has been brewing for months about how to proceed, but due to the lack of a real solution, both kings decide to meet to avoid more messengers. Since tensions had risen to the level of a possible real confrontation.

And, to the nerves of everyone at the round table, it would be the first meeting that Merlin formally attended within his title. At least, the first that would involve a neighboring kingdom.

He doesn't have the proper clothes, so Arthur gives him one of the robes that were originally designed for his arrival at the castle.

Merlin basically swims in the robes that Arthur gave him. Because Arthur had robes designed for Merlin thinking he was an elderly gentleman, not a young man who is just leaving the baby fat on his body behind. And, to top it off, it doesn't help matters that they have to put some extra seating in his seat at the council because the druids thought he was taller.

So what do we have? A Merlin, in clothes that are too big for him, in a chair that is too high even for him, who is sweating with nerves and excitement at being taken seriously… but who looks terribly adorable and it is impossible not to listen to him because of how excited he sounds when asking questions and simply taking his role as an advisor seriously.

It's like watching a little boy so excited about his lessons that you can't help but coo at him, give him lots of candy, and answer all his questions. And take his opinions seriously because of how sweet he is.

So, that meeting goes completely well, but only because the other king kept cooing at Merlin, who listened to everything attentively, and obsessively noted down in his journal trying to capture his version of the events. Also, because of his lack of knowledge of court etiquette, he interrupts both kings when something doesn't fit or seems unfair.

The advisors will say that Merlin's high wisdom made Arthur and the neighboring King find a middle ground to begin means of improvement on the borders, that his notes and thirst for justice made the king of Camelot see his defects and managed to improve as people.

Some servants will say that it was Merlin's magic that managed to convince the neighboring king not to attack Camelot, and that he even bewitched him because he kept praising the boy about his intelligence after the meeting in his chambers inside the guest tower.

But what really happened is that the other king was pleased to feel listened to by a very cute baby wizard, in addition to noticing that everything was a terrible confusion of an offended general.

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au! I hope you all enjoy! :D

In this AU, Merlin is born much, much later than in canon, such that Arthur is already in his late thirties and has been on the throne for over a decade by the time Merlin arrives in Camelot.

In this world, Uther had been assassinated by Morgause, leading to Arthur taking the throne and, at first, continuing the purge as a means to avenge his father. However, after some kind druids help him in finding Morgause after getting lost in the woods during a search party for the witch, Arthur slowly starts to soften his heart towards the druids, allowing them to live undisturbed on Camelot's lands. After all, they kept to themselves and offered assistance whenever a curse befell the land.

After a few years of peace with the druids, some of the druid elders travelled to the city itself, something they had never done before, and requested an audience with Arthur, claiming to have important information regarding a prophecy and Camelot's future. Trusting their word and curious about this prophecy, Arthur welcomes them into the castle and hears what they have to say.

And what they had to say was earth-shattering information for Arthur. They spoke of a prophecy as old as the Old Religion itself, how a king would be born to unite the warring land of Albion and restore peace, bringing the land into a gold age as the gods intended it. They spoke of how this Once and Future King would have a counterpart, the other half of his soul who would complete him and make him the glorious king that he was destined to be.

They told Arthur of Emrys, all-powerful magic made into the form of a man, the son of the Triple Goddess sent to the mortal plane to complete the Once and Future and guide him towards his destiny.

And just like that, Arthur's whole life changed.

The thing you have to understand about this Arthur is that he is very lonely. He has friends, people he trusts, but he's never been able to have a friend that sees Arthur instead of the prince or king. But the prophecy, according to the druids, says that Emrys would see beyond his titles and have a connection to Arthur, not the king. That Emrys would complete him in a way that he'd never fully comprehend.

They also describe Emrys's godly abilities, far beyond anything a mortal sorcerer could ever hope to achieve. He could command the elements of nature, the powers of all the world arose at his call, and time itself bowed to his command.

(And this all sounded very appealing to a repressed Arthur. Soon, Arthur's pleasant dreams started to feature a powerful cloaked figure bringing Arthur to heel, just as he had brought all the powers of magic under his control.)

So, Arthur eagerly awaits Emrys for years, waiting for the day that he meets his other half of the coin and the golden age can finally begin.

The druids, some of whom now stayed permanently in the castle to help Arthur with matters concerning magic until Emrys arrived to take over that role, told Arthur that they could sense when Emrys was nearby, and that they would alert him if they felt Emrys's presence in Camelot.

So, Arthur waits, and waits, and waits, never once giving up hope of meeting his destined other half.

He waits, until one day, the druid elders calmly announce at court that the day has come. Emrys had arrived at the gates of Camelot.

And Arthur's heart nearly leapt out of his chest with excitement. He was here! At long last, his life would be complete and he would become the great king his people deserved!

Arthur rushed to call for the entire court to assemble in the courtyard, ready to welcome Emrys with fanfare, and he sent word to the servants and cooks to prepare a celebratory feast as soon as they could. He needed to make a good first impression on his "other half of the coin" after all!

Arthur, not for the first time, wondered what Emrys would look like when he arrived. The druids didn't have a physical description for him, since his unimaginable powers gave him the ability to change his appearance at will. Perhaps he would look like a druid himself, or would he take on a more noble appearance, befitting of his status? Would he teleport himself into the courtyard with flair, or perhaps he would ride in on the back of a magic beast, like a dragon or unicorn!

Between all of the rush to prepare the castle for Emrys's grand arrival, Arthur forgot all about a skinny peasant boy accidentally bumping into him. The boy had apologized and asked politely where he could find Gaius's chambers. Arthur had looked at him oddly, since that was a rather large breach of decorum to ask the king such a trivial question, but Arthur simply brushed it off and pointed the young man in the right direction.

Finally, after everything was prepared, Arthur stood outside on the steps of the castle with his entire court behind him, straining his eyes at the gate for any sign of movement.

And he waited, and waited, and waited. But there was still no powerful warlock coming through the gates.

Finally, he turned to the druid elder next to him and asked, "Where is he? I thought you said he was in the city!"

The druid responded patiently, "He is, my lord. He might be in a disguise though, as to avoid attention. It is known that Lord Emrys is rather humble."

Arthur grumbled about prophesized warlocks never arriving on time and dismissed his court to attend the feast, hoping that perhaps Emrys would make himself known there, in a less public space.

The feast in its own right was a splendid time, with fresh food, fine wine, and even an famous songstress brought in for entertainment. However, as the night went on and the chair to Arthur's right remained empty, his mood soured. Emrys was supposed to be here, by his side, so where was he?!

Arthur was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed the moment when the singer's voice became threatening, her song became sinister, and an unnatural stillness came over everyone in attendance.

Arthur watched with barely-open eyes as the sorceress unsheathed a dagger and took aim and his chest, a vengeful smile on her face.

He could barely breathe as the dagger flew, his death drawing closer and closer until...

Until the blade stopped in mid-air, frozen by magic. Arthur's breath hitched. Could it be?

Arthur felt himself be pulled out of his chair, and the dagger hit the back of it, right where his chest had been moments before. The sorceress turned to where Arthur and his savior had landed with a furious expression, but before she could even take a step towards them, the chain holding the chandelier above her, which had never shown any signs of rust or damage, snapped, landing directly on top of the witch with a loud crash.

With the witch now dead, her spell was lifted, and Arthur scrambled to his feet the second that his limbs no longer felt like they were made out of solid lead. With his heart hammering in his chest, he turned around to face the sorcerer who had stopped time itself to save him.

This was Emrys, right behind him, and all of a sudden, Arthur wasn't quite sure what to expect.

Arthur turned and gazed down at the man still sprawled out on the floor, his arm outstretched to where the chandelier had been hanging. His eyes flickered wildly over his form, unsure of what details to take in first.

When his mind was finally calm enough to catch up to what his eyes were seeing, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. Because this man was certainly Emrys, and he had certainly been in the castle today. Arthur had seen him after all.

He was the peasant boy, from before. He had indeed snuck into the castle under a disguise to avoid suspicion, and had tested Arthur's heart, just as the druids said that he would. Any other king would have ignored a peasant asking for directions, or would even had them punished for such disrespect towards royalty. But Arthur had stopped to help him, and he must have passed Emrys's test, because he had saved Arthur from the witch's dagger with his own two hands.

Arthur's didn't know how much time passed as he and Emrys looked at each other, both of them staring with wide eyes.

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Emrys climbed to his feet and looked around the room with wide eyes, taking in the shocked and awed stares of everyone in the court.

Looking back at everyone with matching shock, Emrys stuttered out "I'll, uh, be going now. I, um, hope you all enjoy the rest of your feast," and ran off before Arthur's mind could come up with some kind of response, weaving in between shocked lords and bowing druids.

After Emrys had left the room, all eyes turned to Arthur, who took a moment to calm his breathing and his racing thoughts.

"It seems that Emrys has truly arrived in Camelot at last! Since this feast was interrupted, let's postpone the festivities to tomorrow, when Emrys can truly be in attendance."

That seemed to bring the court back to reality, and they slowly began to make their way out of the feasting hall, moving slowly so that everyone could talk amongst one another about Emrys's sudden appearance.

As soon as the last of the courtiers had left the hall, Arthur sprinted out of the room, running to his own chambers as fast as his feet would carry him. He only stopped briefly to breathlessly ask one of the druid elders to pass along a message to Emrys, inviting him for a private meeting with a king later that evening.

Racing back to his own rooms, Arthur was beyond glad to find them spotless. His chamber servants would get a raise after this, they had outdone themselves this time. Everything was perfect, his rooms free of any dirt, his desk immaculate, his furniture exactly where it was supposed to be, and his bed made.

Arthur anxiously paced around his own rooms, worrying about what Emrys already thought of him. Had he been too dismissive during their first encounter? Was he disappointed that Arthur could not recognize him, the other half of his soul, through his peasant disguise?

Finally, there was a soft knock at Arthur's door. Taking a deep breath, Arthur called out, "You may enter," in a deceptively steady voice.

The door opened slowly, revealing a now-familiar face in the doorway. Arthur's breathing sped up as Emrys slowly stepped into his rooms and closed the door behind him.

"You- you wanted to see me?"

"Of course! I apologize for not recognizing you when we first met, but I did not expect you to come in such a disguise. Now that we are alone though, you can drop your magical glamour and reveal your true face. You do not need to hide anything form me, I promise."

But Emrys simply looked at him, blinking with confusion.

"I... appreciate that, but what are you talking about? What glamour?"

"The illusion that makes you appear like," Arthur waved his hand at Emrys's peasant garb, "this. You can freely show you true splendor here!"

Again, Emrys looked at him with nothing but confusion.

"But... but this is what I look like. I'm not using any sort illusion right now."

A beat of silence. Then, one dumbfounded word escaped Arthur's mouth.

"What?"

TL;DR:

The sorcerer Arthur thought he was getting:

Vs the sorcerer he actually got:

[wttcsms]

anatomy of desire, satoru gojo

part ii. initial incision

with mysterious circumstances centering around a first year med student’s “suicide”, you do something stupidly noble: reporting to a detective that you saw satoru gojo slipping out the backdoor of the very same building yu haibara supposedly jumped from. in doing so, you start a twisted, sick game of cat-and-mouse with the most powerful and insane student on campus. the only thing keeping you alive? the fact that satoru gojo is apathetic towards everything and everyone, besides you. ( fem!reader )

chapter contains mentions of suicide, the first confrontation between you & gojo!!!!! word count 3.9k [ previous ] [ next ] [ masterlist ]

“You know, it’s perfectly normal to still be in shock after what you’ve just witnessed,” the blond haired detective sitting across from you pushes the tiny paper cup of tap water towards you. Your mouth is dry, but you don’t trust yourself enough to stop your hands from shaking and not spilling water everywhere, so you ignore it. 

Detective Junji Wakimiya looks no older than his early thirties, but he carries himself high, with all the experience and stature of an experienced, older gentleman. He has perfect posture, and you’re not sure how much they’re paying him to work as a police officer, but the suit he’s wearing is perfectly tailored to fit his body. Chances are, it’s a department store suit and not designer, but it still looks good nonetheless. His voice is deep, but when he speaks to you, it’s almost as if he’s taking care in saying the words gently, like he doesn’t want to scare you. 

Maybe he just wants to lull you into a false sense of security. 

After all, he reminds you that this isn’t an interrogation, and that you aren’t called in here because you’re a suspect, but rather a witness. And then, before you can ask, he clarifies that no one here is a suspect because yes, something awful has happened here tonight, but until he gets all the facts sorted, whether this “something awful” was a crime or just someone’s final choice remains to be decided. 

“Apologies for making you relive through this ordeal once again, but I’ll need you to reaffirm for me the timeline of events from your viewpoint.” He takes a sip out of his own cup, as if to signal to you that it’s safe for you to drink your own, but you swallow your spit and clear your throat before repeating what you’ve just told him.

“My name is [Name] [Surname]. I’m currently a senior studying journalism here at Tokyo Metropolitan College. Earlier today, I overheard a student having a secret conversation by the vending machines near Murakami Hall, which is where a majority of liberal arts majors have their classes. I didn’t recognize the voice, and I was being nosy when I chose to eavesdrop. I heard him mention on the phone that after tonight, he would ‘be set for life,’ and I was curious as to what he meant by that. So, I got a good look at him, saw that he was a medical student, found him online, and then I started to follow him. I lost sight of him for a few minutes while talking to a classmate, and by the time I entered the laboratory building, I was exhausted and decided that this was stupid. As I walked out, I heard the screams, and that’s when I—” 

You choke up on the last part of your statement. When you blink, you see Yu Haibara’s crumpled up body smack dab on the pavement, his blood streaming out, leaving streaks that the school’s landscaper will have to pressure wash out. 

“—that’s when I saw Haibara’s dead body.” You whisper out the last part, and Detective Wakimiya is nice enough to not make you repeat your statement once more. 

“I see.” He says, setting down his cup. “As a senior in college, you must be considering postgrad jobs now, right?” 

You’re not sure what this detective is trying to get at, but you nod slowly. 

“You seem to be bright. Very ambitious, with the way you seem to want to… How did you put it? Hunt for a good story?” The small talk — is there a bigger picture here, or is he just trying to put you at ease? You know you shouldn’t be paranoid; it’s not as if you’re being suspected of a crime or anything, but after your statement was given, you were certain that you were going to be let go. 

“How do you know what’s a good story or not?” 

“Pardon?”

“What makes you want to chase down a lead over others?” 

“Um… It sounds stupid, sir, but I get a gut feeling.” You mumble, feeling awkward and like a child. “An instinct, I guess? You know, like… When you feel like someone’s watching you, and you turn around, and someone is. It’s a weird sense.” 

He nods. “Interesting. And so, when you chose to follow Haibara, you got this feeling as well?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Quite a story, wouldn’t you agree?” 

You wait a few seconds before replying. “Yes, sir.” 

“You’ve got good instincts, then. Even if things don’t necessarily turn out quite the way you anticipate them to. That’s just how life goes.” He leans over the table, reaching for his recorder and stopping the recording. “Even if things get scary, like I’m certain tonight was, you should still listen to your instincts.” 

You look at him curiously. Just an innocent piece of advice from a well-meaning adult? Whatever it is, you agree. “I will, sir.”

“I’m sure you have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow, what with your classes and whatever else a college girl gets up to.” Detective Wakimiya is funny in the way he seems to think he’s some sort of old man. He acts like it. 

He gives you a reassuring smile before pulling out a business card. “Here’s my number and email. If anything else about this night, anything that you might have forgotten to add to your statement, comes to mind, please reach out. I’m available at any time.” 

“Yes, sir.”

You see Yu Haibara’s face everywhere the following day. 

The picture everyone seems to be using is the same: a headshot photo of him, probably from his most recent undergrad graduation. His hair is a little shorter than you remember, but he’s smiling wide for the camera, practically beaming. He looks cheerful, happy — excited for the future, even. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, and Haibara is already haunting the halls of this college. 

There are posters and flyers tacked up on the walls of every building on campus. There’s going to be a candlelight vigil held in his honor tomorrow night; you’re not sure who the hell could possibly organize an event that big on such short notice, but in tiny, barely there font, you’re not entirely surprised to see EVENT GENEROUSLY FUNDED BY THE GOJO FAMILY. 

If you open up any social media, even LinkedIn, there are nothing but memorial posts for him. Selfies of him and other students, throwback photos, and embarrassing videos. He even has his own personal hashtag: #YuWillBeMissed. Classy. 

Last night, he was haunting you, too. When you closed your eyes after your interrogation with the detective, all you could see was Haibara’s accusatory face. You’re not sure why he’s blaming you, of all people. Maybe he’s upset with you because you couldn’t mind your own damn business. Whatever his beef with you inside your head is, you couldn’t get a good night’s sleep. And when you open the doors to the Tokyo Metropolitan Student Journalism clubroom, it’s evident you’re not the only one who couldn’t rest.

Even now, the team in charge of the school’s paper is going insane. You walk into a storm — the copier is running at full speed, and when it gets jammed (because school printers can smell fear and anxiety; they will never work when you need them the most), one of the editors for the paper curses and kicks it. A few juniors are furiously typing away at their laptops, and unlike most mornings, no one even acknowledges your arrival with a polite “good morning”. Even Sakura, for once, looks serious. 

“For the love of God, this is awful advice. We need to be instructing people on how to properly dress at this funeral. Three inch heels at a candlelight vigil is serving cunt! Four inches is giving insensitive bitch who doesn’t care about anyone besides herself!” Sakura points furiously at a line some freshman writer must have typed up in their draft. “In twenty minutes, we need a perfect edition for today’s paper. Does this look perfect to you?!” 

Tucked away in a corner of the room, you see this semester’s exchange student whispering in her phone, staring wide-eyed at the fit Sakura is throwing. 

“Osamu,” Kotori says, clutching her phone like it’s a lifeline. “I really can’t wait to be back in Osaka.” 

There are good schools in Osaka. After surveying the mess here, you even consider asking her if you can tag along with her.

It’s a sick, vain — insensitive, even — thing to notice, but you can’t help it. A majority of the girls here must have heeded Sakura’s sage advice and opted for sleek, shiny three-inch high heels. Not a single heel in sight appears to be any higher.

You suppose the noble pursuit of serving cunt is always preferable over being a bitch. Especially when you’re attending an event to remember a dead classmate.

Your peers have enough decency and decorum, at least, to keep the complaints of their heels getting stuck in the grass to a minimum. You’re honestly shocked at the amount of people who are in attendance; with the low acceptance rate and exclusivity of the school, it’s hard not to find a familiar face. Every med school student must be here, though; if even the liberal arts and STEM undergrads could make it, surely they could. 

“I heard there’s going to be a dinner afterwards,” a voice pipes up from next to you. Startled, you turn to your right, only to see Kotori beaming at you. 

“Really? Who’s catering?” You fiddle with the candle you’ve been given; everyone gathered in the main square was handed one. 

The food being served at a memorial should be the least of your concerns, but when your meager stipend barely covers cup ramen and protein bars, your stomach jumps for joy at the prospect of a meal that comes with a side of vegetables and an actual entree. 

“The Gojo family is hosting, but I heard a rumor that it’s going to be steak and lobster. So, it must be true.” 

If Haibara is inescapable, Gojo must be his shadow. He lingers around after every thought you have of Haibara, and you don’t know why, but it leaves a bad aftertaste. You briefly wonder what his interrogation with Detective Wakimiya was like. Probably nothing more than a conversation glazing the Gojo family. That’s how most interactions with older adults go for him. You’ve heard, once, that Gojo and the professors often have a funny dynamic. He makes it out to where it seems like they’re doing him a favor, but really, anybody on this campus would kill for a chance to be in his good graces. 

So what exactly was Haibara’s relationship with Gojo? They must have been close enough to where Gojo felt so bad, he would want to host and sponsor a candlelight vigil for him. Everyone around you who murmurs an anecdote about Haibara seems to only have positive things to say about the boy. Apparently, he was bright and ambitious, friendly and helpful, funny and a little weird, in a good, boyish way. He was a total open book. No one could see him killing himself. Someone even thinks he must have just accidentally fell. 

That’s the fan-favorite theory at the moment: that it must have been a bad accident. That Haibara probably was just fooling around, or trying to film a TikTok, and then he died. As morbid and awful as it makes you sound, a fleeting thought occurs.

Maybe he was pushed. 

It’s gone the minute the vigil starts, though. You don’t know why you even think that; too many true crime podcasts must be rotting your brain. That, and maybe the guilt of you basically stalking the poor guy during his last few moments on earth. 

I’ll be set for life. 

He probably was just trying to go viral on TikTok. Boys do stupid shit for online views all the time, and while Haibara must be intelligent enough to attend this school on a scholarship, it’s not like he was immune to bad decisions. Instead of worrying about the why behind his fall, though, you turn your attention to the elevated platform on the square. There’s a podium set up; usually the dean or a guest speaker will come here to give a speech, but tonight, it’s Satoru Gojo. 

Much like everyone else here, he’s dressed in all-black. Black long sleeve button down, black slacks, shiny black loafers. He walks up to the podium, but he’s not greeting the audience with his signature smile that he seems to always wear. Instead, he looks devastated. A few strands of his hair are hanging in his face as his head bends down. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, like he’s trying to practice a few breathing exercises. The crowd went silent the minute he came into view, and they’re still silent now. When Satoru Gojo is around, the world stops for him. No matter what.

After a few more seconds, he finally lifts his head, greeting the crowd with an obviously tight, forced smile. He messes with the microphone for a bit before addressing the audience. 

“Good evening,” his voice is hoarse, almost as if he’s been crying before he went onstage. Between that, and his uncharacteristic disheveled appearance, he might have been. Crying, that is. It’s weird — thinking about Gojo crying. It sounds insensitive, but you never thought of him as someone who experiences the sad and disappointing emotions other mere mortals are privy to. “I suppose the reason for why we’re all gathered here tonight needs no introduction.” He takes a deep breath. Someone is already bursting into tears. 

“Yu Haibara is — was — what I considered to be a beacon of hope in my life. He was bright. Not just in an academic sense, but something about him always radiated pure joy. As his upperclassman, I was assigned as his “buddy” during his first year orientation. I remember meeting him for the very first time, and being taken aback. I mean, we all talk about the baby first year glow, how med school hasn’t hit them yet, but damn—” Gojo lets out a sad laugh, shaking his head. “He was something else. I could tell from just lookin’ at him that nothing was going to dull his shine. He always had a positive outlook on everything, was always an optimist. I’ve never met anyone quite like him.” Gojo’s voice has a bit of a tremor to it, and more people are tearing up as they watch him grip both sides of the podium, as if to keep him stable. 

“I’m afraid that I’ll — that we’ll — never meet anyone like him ever again.” 

Gojo continues on with his speech, talking about all the things Haibara talked about accomplishing, how confident Gojo was in his potential. That Haibara was hilarious and the best junior anyone could ever ask for. That the Zenin School of Medicine will never find another student as bright and bold and ambitious as Haibara. That he’ll be missed. That Gojo has a lot of love for him, but that he hates the choice Haibara made; that despite it all, he’ll still always harbor a lot of love for him. And at the end of his speech, he reveals that the Gojo family will start funding a scholarship in Haibara’s honor, using Haibara’s name, so that way his impact will never truly die. That his spirit will still remain as strong as ever here at this college. 

Gojo’s the first to light his candle, naturally. He holds it up high, almost as if he’s aiming for the night sky. Too bad there isn’t a single star to be seen tonight. 

“To Yu Haibara!” 

Someone else sets their candle aflame, bringing the flame to someone else’s unlit wick, and eventually, going down the line, your candle gets lit, too. You share your flame with Kotori, and once the square is glowing with the comforting orange warmth only several hundred candles can provide, everyone raises their candles high.

“To Yu Haibara!” 

In the following seconds, everyone is silent and solemn. The mourning lasts only as long as the time it takes for Gojo to descend from the platform, and the conversation immediately starts back up again. All signs of despondency seem to evaporate the minute Gojo’s loafers hit the grass, and the crowd immediately parts to make way for him. 

Groups of people rush to him, to compliment him on his speech, to let him know that they’re always going to be here for him if he needs a shoulder to cry on. Every step he takes, he’s never not being bombarded by people. When he makes it closer to where you’re standing, Sakura inches towards him. 

“That was such a beautiful speech, Gojo.” She says, pretending to dab at the corner of her eyes with her black silk scarf. Sakura didn’t tear up once during the ceremony, and she would never dare to risk smudging her makeup in front of Gojo. “And you’re so strong for being able to stand up in front of us and talk about such a good friend without completely breaking down. It must have been awful to see his body, right? I know so many saw him before the cops could come and shoo everyone off—”

“Thanks,” he smiles at her, his hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks. “Between you and me? I had to hold back my tears a few times.” She gasps, staring at him with wide eyes before nodding. He’s about to walk off, but then he adds, “Fortunately, what got me through was probably the fact that I didn’t ever see his body. I was in the medical school’s library preparing for an exam all night when that happened. Wanted to avoid the sight at all costs, too, so I couldn’t even stomach opening any social media.” 

You’re not eavesdropping, you rationalize. Granted, you’re not even hunting for a story, so you’re not sure what your justification for listening in on their conversation is. It’s their fault for having a conversation so close to you, anyway. Anyone with ears can hear them. 

But your stomach is lurching now; gone is your appetite for steak and lobster. Instead, you can feel yourself being filled with dread. 

During Gojo’s “emotional” speech, you were taken aback at just how torn he was. Haibara must have truly been a close friend if Gojo’s voice is shaking when speaking about him. He even needed to grip the damn podium to keep himself upright. 

Maybe it’s because it’s so dark in the nighttime, but you couldn’t help but notice how there was no true force or stress in his grip; no familiar sight of white knuckles from holding something so tightly. And his eyes — they’re obviously the most captivating feature of his. The type of blue that’s only seen in one in every one hundred million, you’re sure. But they’re not red-rimmed or puffy, and during the speech, there was no shine that would indicate he’s on the verge of tears. And you’re certain it’s all in your head when you’re punched with the same realization that the emotion Gojo portrays to his audience never reaches his eyes. Everything about him outwardly screams a boy heartbroken over the death of a good friend. He’s full of grief, but his eyes remain as empty as ever. 

You’re not going to dwell on it any more than that; at least, you weren’t going to. Now, after hearing what he just told Sakura, you’re conflicted. 

You know what you saw that night. You saw him. You saw him. Why would he lie about his whereabouts? 

Your heart is pounding as he walks past Sakura, slowly but steadily making his way closer to you. You should just let him be; everyone handles grief differently. Maybe he was just dissociating during the speech. Maybe trauma is making him want to bend the truth a little bit. Maybe he’s beating himself up over not being there to stop Haibara, and that’s why he’s pretending he wasn’t at the scene of the crime. 

No — you forcibly remind yourself. There is no “scene of the crime.” There wasn’t a crime committed. 

But that instinctual feeling in your gut intensifies the closer Gojo gets, and it’s now or never. Right before he can slip away, you reach out for him, tugging at the fabric of his sleeve, near his wrist. He pauses, turns a bit, looks down at you.

Has he always been this tall, this imposing?

“Yes?” Despite you rudely grabbing at him, he’s nothing but cordial. You swallow hard, bringing your voice to a whisper. 

“Were you there?” 

“Pardon?” He’s smiling, but he tilts his head in confusion. “There… as in where, exactly?” 

“At Old Kashimo Laboratory. When Haibara died.” You clarify. 

“Ah, I wasn’t. I had an exam to study for, so I spent all night in the library.” He blinks, before frowning. “I wish I was there, though. I’ve been wondering if there was anything I could have said or done to change the outcome of that night…” 

Your gut twists, and you swallow hard. “But that’s the thing, Gojo.” You don’t want to say it; there’s a part of you that protests, and the stronger side of you, the one that says maybe you shouldn’t leave this unanswered, dictates that you do. “Why are you lying about being at the library?” You say it so softly, you’re not even able to hear yourself speak.

But he does. You know he does, because the look in his eyes turns cold, colder than you’ve ever seen them. For the first time, you see a glimpse of emotion behind his icy blues. But it isn’t grief, and it isn’t anger. You don’t know what it is, and you almost regret grabbing his sleeve in the first place. 

“That’s a pretty harsh accusation to make.” Gone is his cordial tone. You resist taking a step back from him. “A pretty baseless one, too.” 

“I saw you.” You dare to look him in his eyes. “That night. You were leaving out the back door of the building, and a minute later, Haibara’s body was found. I don’t know the med school’s campus all that well, but the library certainly isn’t behind that old lab, is it?” 

Gojo stares at you for what feels like forever. You’ve never been scrutinized before, but you wonder if this is what a cell under a microscope feels like. The feeling of being completely and utterly exposed is a scary one, and it sounds so silly. Who is scared of friendly, kind, golden boy Gojo? 

No one is. But right now, the man staring you down isn’t the Gojo you’ve heard stories about. 

You blink, and he’s back to smiling at you, almost as if the conversation you two shared never even happened. Maybe it never did. Maybe you’re the crazy one. 

“Well, it was nice chatting with you.” He’s speaking at his normal volume now. “Hey, what was your name again?” 

He poses it as a friendly question, but you know better. 

“[Name].” 

He repeats it back, obnoxiously slow, sounding out the vowels and all. “Pleasure to meet you, [Name]. I hope I see you soon.” 

Somehow, he’s made a pleasantry sound like a threat.

[hanibalistic]

CANNIBAL, MURDER, CHURCH | LEE HEESEUNG. PARK JONGSEONG.

genre | brother!heeseung, godbrother!jay 

synopsis | jay always thought there was something weird about you and heeseung. turns out it's much worse than what he imagined.  

word count | 4.4k+

warning | mention of violence, killing, cannibalism, blood, injuries, bite marks / implications of an incestuous relationship

note | 哥哥我要殺了你 / i've been really into 骨科 recently so i brought this piece back

Heeseung swung your bedroom door open with force strong enough to screw the doorknob loose. 

Jay ignored the frustrated footsteps raging behind him as he carefully laid you down on your bed. 

He remained silent when you pulled your legs up to your chest, avoiding the covers he grabbed to drape over you. He figured you were cold, considering your skin was; he felt the staking chill from the back of your knees when he carried you here from Heeseung’s room, which was left in a mess after the recent commotion. 

You might have dodged his good intention on purpose, and neither would he question nor denounce it. After all, he did just forcefully inject you with a sedative. Without proper medical training, the needle likely stabbed a new bruise on your arm. He couldn't check it if he tried to. The spot was covered by the sleeve of your shirt. 

Gently dropping the blankets at your feet, letting them cover your toes, Jay pulled from the edge of your bed. Heeseung stopped next to him. The bed of sweat on his head was kept afloat by his hair, and his chest still huffing from the marathon he ran from the hospital to home after he received multiple missed calls and one defining text of 'Help. [Name]' from Jay.

 “What happened?” Heeseung asked.

“I should be asking that,” Jay said after a moment of contemplating silence. 

When his father first brought you and Heeseung into his home, he recognized that you were like two peas in a pot. Being brought into a new environment so suddenly must have been difficult. Jay never questioned your inseparable bond, but it continued for the past few months. If anything, at this point, Jay would go as far as to say you two were unhealthily codependent on each other. 

He didn't judge it, though. It made sense for you two to be so close. His father, your godfather, had told him your parents died at an early age. After knowing the system had plans to separate you two, Heeseung fled with you and practically filled the role of a father. Nobody knew how that was possible, especially when Heeseung shouldn't have the ability to plot like that at his age. 

Jay’s father chalked it up to the system being underfunded and understaffed, so it must have slipped past their grasp when two children went missing. Jay thought it was a hoax on Heeseung’s part, that he wasn’t telling the whole story about what happened to your family.

But, other than history, things have been suspicious. For a pair of siblings, for being an older brother, Heeseung was alarmingly aware of your existence. He was protective and borderline possessive of you, but that didn't nearly baffle him as much as how you two regarded your physical intimacy as something natural to share. 

You always hung out with each other and went wherever the other one went. You ate the same meal simultaneously and always sat as close to each other as possible. He has never seen someone your age who'd still openly hold their brother's hands or sit between their brother's legs during a movie night. 

Given what you guys went through together, he understood being hyper-vigilant, but everything else was unreasonable. Jay had suspicions about the extent of your relationship with Heeseung, but he never spoke a word of it. 

He was never confrontational, to begin with. Not to mention, he was still trying to fit into your circle now that his father had moved you two into their home and started his role as the godfather. He ought to blend into your family by first becoming you and Heeseung's (god)brother, too, and interrogating you for answers would ruin it.

However, after what just happened, he changed his mind. 

Turning his body to face Heeseung fully, he raised his arm to show the unbuttoned cuff of his black dress shirt. Heeseung stepped back instinctively at the proximity of their bodies and sneered that he was intimidated by Jay’s firm silence. He curled his fists by his side as Jay carefully rolled his sleeve up to reveal three bite marks spanned irregularly across his forearm, all of them in the shape of teeth.

Your teeth, specifically. He has seen and felt enough of them to know.

“Care to explain what this means?” Jay asked, putting his injured arm in Heeseung’s line of sight.

Heeseung stared at it with a clenched jaw. That and the frantic attempts to reach him were enough resources for him to assume what happened while he was away. 

What a shame. He managed to keep the secret safe for so long. He was so diligent and meticulous, fixating on every timetable and operating based on strict discipline. He held your limbs together and bit your teeth back for you. All for an unpredictable accident to pull the curtains open. 

Heeseung curled and uncurled his hands, and then he glanced at you. You appeared unharmed. Even if you were, if his assumption was correct, the sedative would alleviate the pain and discomfort you were feeling anyway. But he doubted you were. 

He hated to admit it, but if there was one thing he could count on Jay to do, it was to never intentionally hurt you. 

“I asked you first,” he said. “What happened?”

“That’s not how this works. I hold more leverage against you,” Jay said. 

“I don’t know anything about tests and examinations, but I’m sure if I take this to the hospital, they will be able to find [Name]’s saliva over my injuries, and I will technically be able to press charges.”

He tilted his head. "Or are you going to forge the test results like you forge medical orders to steal sedatives from the hospital? I must say, Lee Heeseung, undetectable handwriting forgery is some skill to have."

Heeseung smirked bitterly. He hasn't gotten in trouble with the hospital yet, so Jay must have pulled some strings behind the scenes with his daddy's money to confirm a suspicion he already had. 

But Jay was right. With so much evidence on hand, he was at a loss here. Unfortunately, he wasn’t willing to kill anyone to keep a secret, so the only option was to tell the truth.

“What did you see?” he asked. 

“Are you going to keep fighting me on this?”

“It’s easier to explain it through your eyes,” Heeseung retorted. “Tell me what happened.”

Jay dropped his arm, careful not to press his wounds against his clothes. It stopped hurting for a while, but everything else lingered. Psychologically, he knew vividly the injuries were there and have been there, and how they were caused. He couldn't ignore anything about it despite it not reminding him anymore.

He smacked his tongue over his front teeth and rolled his eyes. Heeseung's question has an easy answer because it is so dramatic that he remembers everything that went down, and it has a difficult answer because it is a sorry sight. 

He had gone home to pick something up between classes. This would have never happened if he hadn't forgotten to bring it when he left for school this morning. What he initially thought was a burglar turned out to be you, but in Jay's head, he wasn't sure if he could ever consider such psychotic desperation as you. 

You were always so quiet and presentable, walking with a ghostly grace that alerted nobody. Stealth was your special skill, and he didn't think you even knew it. You have crept up on him multiple times, either to get something he was blocking or to get his attention. You often used gestures, though, pointing at objects and motioning for him to make space.

He rarely heard you speak. Jay always thought it was social anxiety that prevented you from verbally interacting one-on-one with others, and that very well might still be the case despite all the other factors. 

But, otherwise, Heeseung was your keeper. He made most of your decisions and spoke for you.

You had been rummaging through Heeseung’s room when Jay found you. Throwing papers off of desks and tissues out of trashcans, drool dripping uncontrollably down your chin as you hyperventilated away the hunger in the pit of your tummy. 

Jay had thought you were drunk off your mind when he saw you. He tried to coax you out of your endeavor; it didn’t work. When he circled his arm around your body, one hand reached out to pull your head away from sticking under your brother’s bed, you bit him and didn’t let go.

He had been careful not to shove you off or exert any force to pull you away from him, but his stability gifted him two additional sets of teeth marks, so he ended up having to hold your head and rip his skin off your teeth.

“They were looking for sedatives,” Jay said, holding back a wince as he recounted the event. “They told me to inject it, so I did.” 

He found it in a childish-looking safe located on top of a bookshelf. It was where people usually discard unwanted things, but in Heeseung's case, it was a hiding spot. Surprisingly, the password to access the safe wasn't related to either you or him, so Jay ended up having to pry it open with a tool. 

Inside the safe were bottles and needles. Sedatives, Jay recognized.

Heeseung licked his lower lip when Jay’s voice dropped from the brief explanation. He stared at the floor but managed enough consciousness away from his thoughts to shift his weight and rub the bridge of his oily noise by pinching it with his thumb and index finger. 

He wasn’t ready to face the idea of another person being in the know of your condition, but again, he wasn’t willing to kill someone again. 

“This is my fault,” he muttered. 

Jay raised a brow. “What is?”

Lowering himself, Heeseung extended his arm and ran his hand harshly over your hair. He moved closer to your face, intently observing the state of your unfocused eyes. They were clouded and sorrowful, filled with tears once fallen, and they were ready to fall again now that your brother was finally willing to touch you. 

"Hey," he smiled, rubbing his thumb over your eyes, " I'm back." 

"I did something bad," you whispered.

"No, you didn’t." Sighing, softened, smitten, Heeseung smoothed the back of his fingers down the side of your face. "Good job looking for the sedative.”

You spared no reaction to the tip of his nose brushing against yours. It could have been the sedation, or you were used to your brother being so close. Jay grimaced as Heeseung visibly glanced down at your mouth and then back up at your eyes, and then nothing more than that.

Getting onto your bed in his outdoor clothes, creasing your sheets into a familiar pattern, Heeseung placed his hands under your thigh and the small of your back to lift you forward. Once there was enough space, he moved to sit behind you, his legs spread to cage you between them. 

You habitually leaned back onto your brother’s chest. His frame towered over yours, familiar and safe.

"I'm sorry. I've been so busy with work and school lately that I neglected you," he whispered, nudging the side of your head with his jaw.

His adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he spoke, akin to the beat of his heart. You slowly moved a hand up to touched it with your fingers, pulling at his skin and pressing your thumb gently against it.

He never flinched when you touched his throat, even though a few years ago, you bit him so hard that you tore some skin off of it. He was left with ugly scabs for a while, and he made you apply medicinal cream on them daily as punishment.

Smirking at your silent pleas, he pulled your hand away from his neck, his fingers folding you snuggly around himself. The neck must have some anatomical advantage that makes it so well-loved. He was never sure what it was. It could be the strong shape, the pulsing blood flowing beneath, or its position on the human body providing easy access. 

One thing he knew for sure, though, was that it’ll be a long time before he allows you access to his throat again. 

"You are adorable, but that is off-limits," he said, and you obeyed. “You must be hungry."

His hair fell over his eyes as he stared down at you, making the perfect slant of his nose and his smile the only visible features to grace others. If Jay had to guess, he was sure Heeseung's eyes were soft and spoiled when he looked at you. 

The wavering chemistry of your positions and interactions that could be noticed by an unassuming passersby was not lost on Jay, but he wasn't sure if there was anything concrete to make of it. 

Heeseung circled his arm around your neck and tipped his finger at your mouth. ”Do you want a bite?”

Jay furrowed his brows. After the minor public display of affection, that was the last thing he thought would come out of Heeseung’s mouth.

"Excuse me. What?”

Heeseung looked surprised when he turned from you to his new brother as if he wasn't already aware of Jay's presence in the room. He stared at the other man to blatantly access him. Stone-faced, strong jaw, with grit spaced between each purse of his lips and furrow of his brows. 

Jay knew how to read the room. He wasn't stupid and supposed that was all Heeseung had to bet on. 

"[Name] is a bit of a cannibal," he said.

Was Jay surprised? In retrospect, not quite.

"What do you mean a little? You either eat people or you don't," Jay questioned.

"They have cravings. They do eat if an opportunity presents itself, but we've learned from our mistakes," Heeseung said. "I've trained them to settle with chewing on skin occasionally. They don't eat anymore, but they do get hungry. What happened just now will happen when you leave it too long." 

“Jesus Christ,” Jay whispered as he shook his head in disbelief. Heeseung made sense. His story wasn’t completely implausible. The worst part was that he was nonchalant about it. “How–how did you even find out?”

“We’re not ready to let you know yet,” Heeseung replied with a firm glare. 

“Have they actually eaten anyone?”

“We’re also not ready to let you know that yet.”

Jay held a hand up and closed his eyes, squeezing it to force discomfort so he could better maintain his composure. “This whole one entity, ‘we’ speaker thing is driving me out.”

“Then get out,” Heeseung mused, his brow raise borderline condescending. “You’re not required here.”

“Well, I require myself to be here,” Jay retorted with a frown. “How have they… dealt with the problem before?”

“It’s not a real problem. You people made it up.” Heeseung rolled his eyes.

"First of all, I'm not the founding father of words," Jay said. "Second of all, I'm not going to sit here and defend the dictionary definition of what a problem is."

“Like I said,” Heeseung pointed at the door, “you are welcome to leave.”

“I am also [Name]’s brother!”

“I’m not going to sit here and argue the legal definition of whether a godsibling counts as a real sibling.”

“Touché,” Jay clicked his tongue. He glanced at you and gulped, finally meeting eyes with you for the first time after standing here and arguing about you as if you weren’t here. But that’s what you were used to; leaving yourself up for others to debate, for your brothers to debate. 

He looked back up at Heeseung and exhaled, his jaw locking. “But if that’s who I consider myself, you can’t stop me. I deserve to know.”

Heeseung raised a brow in mild approval. He always knew Jay had everything it took to stand his ground. Being raised with immense wealth, that man grew up to be both confident and humble. However, if his upbringing taught him anything, it was that money talks. Someone with the trust fund he does should fear no one and nothing.

He let you play with his fingers and put them in your mouth, nibbling on them and trying to prick his nails out. You were clearly uninterested in the conversation. He pinched your cheek harshly when you hurt him, and you softened your approach. He rubbed the redness away, pressing his face to your head apologetically. 

“I used to feed myself to them,” he muttered without looking at Jay.

“You cut yourself up?”

“No, I’m afraid of self-inflicting pain,” he said. “I just let them gnaw on me until they’re satisfied.” 

Heeseung never took a knife and sliced parts of his flesh for you. But if you had asked for it, he thought he might forgo the pain and do it. He also never allowed you to actually consume flesh due to health reasons. Your body was not immune to diseases carried by others. God knows the horrific possibilities if you end up eating human meat. 

You settled with gnawing on flesh. Heeseung taught you to, and you never complained about that. You liked it. You were enamored with the sensation lingering at the tip of your teeth when you sank them into a place between skin and bone. You loved the threat of mutilation and the waltz of moving toward and backing away from that point. 

You remembered your brother's blood tasted bitter like expired grapefruit. You remembered how his gentle palm caressed your head after the deed to lure you to slumber.

"Have you never tried to get help?" Jay asked. 

“What do you think would happen to us if this gets out? We will get separated, so I made sure we can both keep a secret,” Heeseung said as he rolled his sleeve up, your head banging against his shoulder in the process. 

"No, that's not–" This wasn't a battle he understood, but the urge to prove his existing beliefs correct was overwhelming. Although he even thought he would have this conversation. "You're supposed to get them professional help.”

"Why do you think I'm planning to attend medical school?”

He hasn’t asked Jay’s father for any handouts so far. Besides the unstoppable freeloading in his home, which he would have compensated financially for if given the chance, Heeseung hasn’t asked for anything from his godfather because he was saving up all his favors for medical school expenses.

"Oh my god? So, what? You're just going to deal with this–" Jay cut himself back when he almost referred to you as baggage. He shook his head in dissatisfaction, avoiding Heeseung's divided attention. "You're planning to do this alone? For the rest of your life?"

"Yes," Heeseung said without hesitation. "I'm their brother.”

"You're missing a defining description of yourself, that's for sure.”

Heeseung looked up. His blanket stare prowled through Jay's conscience, and for the first time, Jay questioned himself. Intentionally bringing you closer to him, Heeseung sneered faintly. 

"What you're implying is inconsequential to the grand scheme of things.”

Jay returned the stare momentarily before he looked down at the floor, chuckling in defeat. Heeseung was a brother who loved you a little too much, and you were too dependent on his care and support. In a way, you both save and destroy each other.

Given the circumstances, Jay couldn't imagine it otherwise.

"They get anxious with new people around. The anxiety makes them hungry like fear makes people's stomachs empty," Heeseung muttered. His breaths were soft against the back of your neck. "I should have taken precautions and fed them more. I was too careless." 

He might have begun his medicine studies for you, but he actually enjoyed the topic. He also wanted to give it his all at school and the workplace. It all got to his head, overloading him with tasks and stress. He got careless. 

Pulling the tip of his index finger out from between your teeth, he habitually rubbed away the wetness before moving to uncurl the sleeve of his undershirt. Jay silently gasped at the scars littered across Heeseung’s arm, all similar in shape but irregular in placement. 

His arm has become a template that measures the shape of your violence, your anxiety, your teeth. Bruises scattered across made more visible in comparison to his paleness. 

It was second nature to Heeseung, to a point where the habit of earning and owning those bruises cannot be unlearned. The next step of his mental leap would be the state of yearning—chaotically, desperately seeking for a morsel of your bite, to be mutilated by your mouth.

Jay looked down at his own arm. It was almost identical to Heeseung’s. This was just the beginning.

“Here." Heeseung put his arm to your mouth, angling it so there’s a plain surface to feast on. “Bite me, but not too hard. You’re gonna break me.”

It was like a love confession, or something much worse than that. It’s chronic suicide; an oath to it, between you and him.

Jay watched as you sniffed Heeseung's skin, rubbing your nose against the surface, and then, finally, you kissed a spot on his arm. The kiss led to a bite, your lips spreading open to bring him inside. 

Heeseung pursed his lips in pain, but his chest heaved out as he relaxed upon your satiation.

He couldn’t pinpoint the difference between this and the closeness of regular lovers. He wouldn’t point at one or the other and announce that one was true love while the other wasn’t.

"Wait." 

He didn't know what took over him, but the request came out before he knew it. Jay shrunk faintly at Heeseung's glare, his resolve breaking again. But this time, he was pathetic. He was a man with a favor to ask.

"You can leave,” Heeseung said monotonously.

“No. It's just–this is partially my fault," Jay said. "You said they get anxious around new people. I am considered one of those new people.”

“Get to the point.”

Jay’s thoughts were in complete disarray, but standing tall among all the incoherence was a fallacy birthed through one immense curiosity: how it feels to be bitten. Or at least it must be.

There was no other quality more fundamental to humanity than curiosity. Besides that, it must be love.

Jay has conditioned himself to care about you and Heeseung now that he has become part of the family, but he didn't think he loved you with the same intensity and meaning as Heeseung did.

It didn't make sense that he would offer himself the way Heeseung did to you. It wasn't natural. 

Surely, your brother knew that this wasn't normal. A man of his caliber—determined and intelligent, daring and responsible—must know this crosses an unspoken territory. 

So then, if it didn't come from him, the obsession must be you?

Approaching the bed, Jay ignored the dissatisfied expression on Heeseung's face as he propped one knee on the bed and exposed his skin to your face. Light gradually lit up your stoic eyes with an uncertain huger, and Jay cleared his throat.

"You can take a bite," he said.

You looked behind you at Heeseung for approval. His eyes flipped back and forth between you and Jay, and then he reluctantly nodded.

Patience was a virtue Jay had since birth, and endurance was a skill he learned.

He never knew how far he could take or was willing to take until he felt your fingers wrap around his hand and your teeth squeeze into his flesh. He furrowed his brows upon the initial clench, and he never got used to it as you printed your front teeth better than any tattoo gun has ever drawn on his skin.

Your bites were merciless, but it was different than the previous ones you left on him. You were more controlled now, eating with timid etiquette, a reflection of a wolf begging not to be feared, begging to feel intimacy. 

It hurt with a newfound sensation. 

Jay looked down at you. Saliva and blood painted the corners of your lips and his skin, and your teeth dragged against his skin whenever you hiccupped into a moan.

He watched you hold yourself back, your brain squirming to adhere to your brother's rules. His breathing picked up. It was uncanny. 

It hurt with a newfound sensation—perseverance, devotion, attachment.

He put himself in your brother's shoes for once, and he realized the roles were reversed.

Instead of Heeseung sacrificing everything for you, he has you caged in the confined of his walls. He taught you to only crave his flesh, to run everything by him first. He sculpted you to need him incessantly so he could have you all to himself.

He gives you everything you want, which is him, so you give him everything he wants, which is you. A neverending supply of mutual desire. An endless supply of love, which had always begun with consumption anyway. 

One cannot claim to love anymore without knowing how it feels inside them. And there was no God. There was no other God but your heaving satisfaction in creating and licking his wounds. An ambiguous truth, a corrupted awakening—the obsession to be consumed, the obsession to be chosen, the obsession of you.

Taboo, stigmatized, predatory, and real. More real than anything he has ever felt.

Jay understood. 

“[Name], careful,” Heeseung urged with a hand around Jay’s wrist, lightly pushing it out of your mouth. He stared straight at the blood rolling down your chin, seeping into the cracks of your dry lips, mixing with your saliva. The saliva he was used to smelling. “Not too much of him.”

"It's okay," Jay muttered immediately after, the stinging pain present and overwhelming. But in that instant, he knew Heeseung was right about everything. "They're hungry. Let them eat."

“You're bleeding,” Heeseung accused.

“Yes." Jay nodded. "What else am I supposed to do? Not let them get what they want?"

Heeseung's eye twitched, but he'd take cooperation over any other reaction. "I take it that you will keep a secret.”

"Of course," Jay said. "I am a brother, after all.”

And his hands are ready to bleed.

[znivlho]

Out of jealousy.

pairing : storm shadow x male reader

genre: smut to fluff

cw: NSFW 18+, rough sex, anal, oral, rimming, riding, blowjob, creampie

anon's request :

i wish to request please! I've been good crazy for Storm Shadow since the first G.I Joe movie and i quiet have this thought in my mind(i think it'll be quiet long, I'm sorry) so the Reader is one of student in Arashikage clan (most likely like Snake Eyes) him and Storm Shadow had a great relationship, they trained together, studied together, hang out together. The reader was a place for him to come back whenever he get upset or his jealousy toward Snake Eyes flaring.

Storm shadow developed liking for the reader while reader remain think of it as friendship(well, they were a children back then). So when the Hard Master died and Storm Shadow left, he felt betrayed, angry, in pain both from the grief for Hard Master and abandonment by Storm Shadow. But different from other, the reader don't believe the accusation that was thrown to his 'friend'.

Back to current time, the reunion of this two happened, and of course it's full of fight with Reader end up getting kidnapped by Storm Shadow. Other hostages was put in cells while reader was put in his private quarters by request of Storm Shadow himself because the liking he developed in his childhood seem turn to something more (cough obsession cough). So yeah, the confrontation happened and something snapped in him and Storm Shadow end up fucking him hard and rough. I thinking Storm Shadow the type that will leave mark in every spot and places on reader, outside and inside.

This is my request, I'm sorry if it's so long but i appreciate it a lot if you write it 🙏🏻🥲

~

i love this request so much that i had so many ideas on how to write it, thank you so so much anon, please accept this emoji ⭐️ as a gift and please use it if youll request again🙏

NSFW 18+, read at your own risk.

you suddenly woke up, blinking your eyes open as you stare at the ceiling with a dim light open. where are the others? why are you even laying down on a bed while the others fight? is it over?

many thoughts lingered to your mind as you looked around the room, but then you saw a familiar figure beside you, staring at you with those fierce eyes of his. those eyes who you missed to look at every single day since you were kids.

"storm..?"

you called out, seeing your childhood friend who wore an white shirt along with a short sitting on the floor beside you, but you can feel his eyes stare at your soul. you were frozen on the spot, he was now infront of you, the man who you waited in your whole entire life since he left.

"w-where have you been?? youre all grown up.."

you sat up as you asked worriedly about him, seeing him after many decades that you though he was dead. the last words turned into a whisper as you slowly reached your hand to his cheek.

"why did you left..?"

you spoke up, you have many questions in mind about him. but he kept quiet, suspiciously quiet while staring at you with those eyes of his that you cant explain what is it express.

"why are you with snake eyes?"

he finally spoke up, but not the question you expect. you cant explain to him, how you were with the man he hated so much since he show up just for him to be replaced and the hard master left him out like he never existed.

you were also caught by snake eyes. the more the latter has been hanging out with you the more you and storm became distant.

"i.."

you slowly pulled your hand away from his cheek, but he suddenly and swiftly pulled you closer to him that your faces almost touched.

"why?"

his grip around your wrist tighten, his eyes were fiercely staring straight into your soul. he wasnt like this before, he changed a lot.

you looked away, trying to look away from that stare that you thought it would gouge your eyes out if you kept looking at him.

well, thats a wrong move for you to make.

his hand went up to your chin as he agressively pulled you closer, his lips connected to yours hungrily that he craved it for a very long time. his hand pushed you down to the bed on your back agressively, pouring out all of his anger that he take up back then.

his tongue went straight into your mouth, exploring each corner and crevice he can feel inside. biting your bottom lips hardly until it bleeds, making you whine in pain. his teeth captured your tongue, biting it hard enough that it left a mark that was gushing out blood.

you were in pain but it felt too good. you cant understand why you cant stop what he was doing to you even though it hurts that you gave in. the more he kissed you hungrily and agressively, the more you got used to it and the more you became more desperate.

his hands roam around your body, ripping the fabric that was on his way to your skin. the both of his hands felt your body for the first time in many decades he wished he would touch, roaming around like it was looking for something.

your body was fit to his own hands, muscular yet so tiny beneath him. holding your waist with both of his massive hands make him feel so satisfied, he cant choose which part of your body was his favorite but instead he would pick all of it.

he leaned away but then he started attacking your neck like his life was depending on it, so desperate he had to mark every inch he touches with bite marks and hickeys. most bites were hard and deep that he made it slightly bleed on purpose, sucking it after till it was swollen then move to a next skin he would find. he wouldnt leave an inch without his mark and he didnt care if people sees it, he wants everyone to know.

meanwhile, you were a mess below him. whimpering and moaning at every action he made that made you feel pleasure, sweat dripping down along with strands of hair curled around your forehead. you never thought that you needed this, that it was that thing that made you feel pleasure for the first time.

he leaned away as he looked at you full with swollen marks and hickeys around your neck down to your collarbone and ended to your chest, your hair all messed up to the pillow as you look at him with those desperate eyes of yours made him turn on so much.

but he still not satisfied with the marks he made, and he would love to put more around your skin.

he leaned down to your chest, playing with your nipples that are desperate for touch, he sucked on it like a newborn who seeks for their mother's milk.

it was the sensitive part of your body, your voice betrays you as you let out questionable moans. even though he cant see your full face, he was satisfied with those sounds that went through his ear like music.

he bit down both of your nipples, making it both have the same mark as it pops up swollen up from his sucking. he went down to your lower torso, your fine toned body was perfect to him he cant stop marking at it.

he then suddenly leaned into your head again as he lifted you up, making you lie down on your stomach while his hard breathing was loud next to your ear.

"mh.. ive been waited for so long.. look what you did to me.."

he huskily whispered to your ear as he leaned his hips to your ass, making you feel how he was hard beneath the cloth he was wearing.

just by feeling it make you jolt by how long it was, how you felt it twitching in the fabric as it touches you.

"seeing you with snake eyes makes me dissapointed, and angry.."

he continued whispering while his hands do the job to pull away the pants youre wearing, his lips biting your ear till it was swollen.

"do you like that bastard?"

he asked as he gripped down tightly on your hair, making you throw back your head just for him to see.

you didnt answer, you cant even for a single word. you can sense he was mad angry inside unlike the emotions he was showing.

he scoffed after not hearing any response from you as you felt a tip aligned to your aching hole.

without any warning, he shoved inside his throbbing cock to you without any lube, any preperation, just straight filling your insides up.

you screamed at the sudden movement, the pain aching around you especially inside. he didnt even move yet but his tip was hitting your prostate.

he whispered to your ear once more as he started thrusting into you hardly and aggressively, hitting your spot every thrust as you felt your insides will tear apart when this continues.

"ill ask that later."

you cant hide your moans, it was getting loud from time to time and he really liked it. seeing you a mess down below him makes him satisfied.

he picked up his pace as you were reaching your climax, his hand held your throbbing cock, teasing its tip as he suddenly matched the pace betwwen his thrusts and his hand going up and down to your throbbing cock.

you cried out a moan as you came, him following not a long after. you catched your breath for a while, but he suddenly flipped ypu together so that hes below you.

he pushes you up to sit while his cock still inside you, making you whimper by the movement as his cum drips down from your aching hole.

"that was just a warmup, (name)."

he whispered to your ear as his hands gripped down to your hips as he raised you up from his cock, then suddenly slammed you down.

earning a loud moan from you, he then continues the agressive and hard pace for a long time..

not only did he cum twice, for 6 rounds he took you in.

{bonus}

after taking care of you, let you wore his fresh clothes, changed the sheets, let you drank water, he crawled in the bed to you as his head rested on your lap.

your hands quickly move to his cheek as you caressed it, moving away his hair that was blocking his face as you leaned on the headboard.

"you know, i-" "we'll talk about that tomorrow."

you cut him out as your eyes were closed as you continued to caress his cheek, only for him to fall asleep quickly.

[martincrushcameback]

I neeeeed more on the mind control au/idea. I like it, and think it's fascinating! Martin X Donita is my secret guilty pleasure, lol.

The thing about the glitched mind control glasses are that he very much is still obedient to her but he also wants her for himself and no one else. He'd probably kill for her at that point but his goal is to get her where nobody can see her and then do whatever she wants! Because he's for her and her alone! So it's this strange sort of confused devotion of I will do anything you ask except let you leave me.

And it's not like she can remove his glasses- they need her remote to do that and he has it squirreled away somewhere so she can't turn it off because he thinks this is best for them both.

Poor Martin doesn't remember doing any of this of course- he'd never hurt her, not mind controlled or otherwise but imprisoning isn't exactly great. Eventually she manages to get a message to the others about what she did and what the problem is so they can come and retrieve him but by then she's so very guilty and sorry she ever did any of this and Martin, free of the glasses, has no idea what happened.

As far as HE knows he was just caught by her pose beam- anything after the glasses is gone and she's happy but also feels SO BAD ABOUT IT. They explain what happened and he's surprised and thinks it's kind of funny but also... actually hey that's not funny at all.

He's gotta confront her and be like why would you do that to me? To anyone? That's not love that's control.

[lemotmo]

💙💙💙 love love love. Please tell me you were the mutual she asked??

Q. I know we're all excited about 911 finally going there with Eddie and Buck but what do you think are actual realistic ways they can do that? In your opinion what's a believable way the show can give Eddie his oh moment? What's a realistic show way they can have their confession to one another? I cannot seem to settle on what I think are truly realistic expectations.

A. Full disclosure I struggled answering this, lol. Not because I couldn't think of ways the show could accomplish both of these things but because every scenario I came up with felt too fanfic. I mentioned it to my friend and he agreed basically saying I've clearly been reading too much fanfic, haha. But then I mentioned it to a mutual, and she said something that should have been obvious to me but truly didn't even occur to me. She said it's been 7 years in the making there's not really anything they can do at this point that hasn't happened in fanfic already. She's absolutely correct. I don't think 'realistic' expectations are necessary. Personally I like the idea of Eddie's OH moment occurring while he's in Texas with Buck nowhere around. On a momentary side note, I'm stunned by the number of people who truly don't think Eddie will go to Texas because I absolutely believe he's going and I think he'll be there for at least a couple of episodes. There are things Eddie needs to do in Texas. Conversations and forward movement between him and Christopher, that movement cannot happen off screen or over zoom. They have to film it. The audience has to see it. Eddie also needs to confront his parents on some level. At some point the show has to have characters be held accountable and face deserved consequences for their canon behavior. Completely ignoring Gerard's and Tommy's past problematic behavior in favor of quick and easy write-offs cannot be repeated with the Diaz parents. Eddie has earned that confrontation and frankly his character needs it in order for him to fully move forward.

Okay back to your question, my apologies for the sidetracked thought. The show was clearly mirroring season 5 to some degree in 8a. I see that continuing in 8b at least in some capacity. They cannot just do another shooting arc for Eddie so having him return to Texas, which is absolutely a regression for him, is another way to tear him down to the studs emotionally and mentally without physically tearing him apart again. I think most of us believe he's over corrected his Kim mistake by allowing Christopher to run away to Texas and avoid things instead of dealing with things, but it makes character sense for Eddie that he would allow Chris to do that. Most parents would tell their kid that they can be mad at them from home but Eddie didn't do that. He let Christopher decide for himself what he wanted to do. He gave Christopher the voice and choice his parents never gave him. Eddie's parents never asked him what he wanted or how he felt about anything. His opinions, his feelings and his own wishes were never given consideration when he was growing up. He was told what to do, when to do it and how to do it. Eddie doesn't know how to want things for himself. He doesn't know how to ask for them. He really doesn't even know who he fully is as a person. He has spent his entire life reacting to what life threw at him. He's never had many choices for himself. His parents, the church, fatherhood at a young age, military and then the fire academy. Eddie reacts to orders and circumstances. He doesn't make choices. The one choice he made for himself was choosing to move to L.A. Having him 'move' back to Texas means undoing the one choice Eddie has ever made for himself. It's the perfect way to get him to his OH moment. Dealing with his parents and the reminder of how he's never been good enough for them. The conversations he and Chris will need to have in order to mend what Eddie never meant to damage (there is an entire argument to be made that Kim is really the villain here because Eddie never invited her to his home and never asked her to act like Shannon but that's a separate post). Doing all of that without the constant comforting, reassuring presence of Buck will probably be eye opening for Eddie. Buck is the one person in his life who is always on his side. Buck always has his back. I like the idea of Eddie just being emotionally exhausted and realizing he would give anything to just be able to talk Buck in that moment because Buck would make him feel better just by being there. I don't think it would require much else for Eddie to get there at that point. A little montage or moment of Eddie realizing all the times he has actively chosen Buck, without even knowing it, and all the times Buck has been there for Eddie without him even needing to ask him. Eddie's moment coming like that seems fitting for him. I also like the idea of Buck having a little spiral once he realizes the full extent of his feelings but Eddie having a moment of relief when he realizes his feelings. A deep exhale of a breath he didn't even realize he had been holding his entire life. A realization that without even trying they have chosen each other time and time again. A new found clarity that his past relationships never felt fully right not because something was broken in him but because he was missing this piece of information about himself. They made a family and it wasn't hard. It wasn't difficult for them. It happened so effortlessly because it's what's right and meant to be for them and him. Then Eddie having a moment of actively, and purposely choosing Buck and their life and family of 3, and the rest of the 118 by extension, in L.A. That's what I want for Eddie.

The Buck and Eddie love confession is where I'm not sure Tim would be able to resist the big dramatic moment. Eddie and Chris back in L.A. and Eddie back with the 118. Neither he or Buck have told the other how they feel yet though. I can see them being on a call and maybe one of them gets trapped and they can't get to him immediately so he believes he's going to die and maybe just starts talking into his radio needing to say it before he dies. The one on the outside immediately knows what's happening and says 'no not like this and not here. You wait until we get to you and you tell me in person'. That way the audience knows what's coming but it allows Buck and Eddie to have the actual moment and confession between just the two of them at Eddie's house. On the couch or in the kitchen. I just really want their first kiss to be in one of those spots. But the truth is, for me anyway, there's no wrong way for them to do it. There is also no way to do it that will please everyone. Whatever way they choose will be fine with me. I will be sat, I will be giddy, I will be emotional and I will be flying. Just give it to me, please.

Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated! We can all use some Buddie distraction on a truly blue Monday like this one.

First of all... Was I the person she talked to? 😋

Well yeah. 🙂‍↕️

My exact words were:

"The problem is that the slowburn has been slowburning so long now that all of the possible 'confession' and 'first kiss' scenarios have been written over and over again. So no matter what the show comes up with, it will always feel a little fanficcy because of that."

I still stand by that. No matter how they will pull this off, somewhere someone will have already written it down in a fanfic. 🤷‍♀️ Not that I would mind one single bit. This fandom has the best writers.

And I've said it before and I'll say it again: I truly don't care how they'll pull Buddie off. I'll be happy no matter what. I'll scream, cry and go a little insane though, I admit it. 🤣

I like all of Ali's ideas on how they might come to their realisations and what the confession moment might look like. I agree with so much of it.

I'm also 100% sure that Buddie IS happening and that Eddie IS going to El Paso. He'll be there for a few episodes, no doubt about it. It's like Ali said, he needs his moment to shine. And I'll love every second of it, because I truly believe that Eddie deserves his happiness, but as long as he keeps denying himself 'joy', he'll never get that happiness.

He needs to break free from the shackles of other people's expectations and only then will he be able to pursue what he truly wants: happiness and joy, no matter what it looks like. And I believe that, in Eddie's case, it looks like his son at home in LA and embracing his romantic feelings for his best friend Buck.

I can't wait for the show to come back in March. I've missed my dysfunctional found family of firefighters so much. 🤗

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

HELP I answered like half of these in my yap session yesterday

I'm just going to answer them anyways XD

Lore and clarification of game dynamics beneath the cut lmfao (I don't have the patience for ask box games today /lh)

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Vizzie currently lives with her mom. Her dad passed away two years ago over the summer under "mysterious circumstances" - which she fully believes her mother had play in. While she has gathered circumstantial evidence, she has nothing substantial. She and her mother were never on good terms, but without the buffer of her father things have only gotten worse. Her change from grade 9 into grade 10 seemed out of the blue/out of character, but nobody has gotten her to open up about it. She doesn't particularly care if her mother were to do the same thing to her as she suspects she did to her father, but the tension at home is far too much to bear continously, thus her finding every reason to not stay at home.

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

She finds her habits interesting. She feels the lovey-dovey act that she puts on after being confronted about following Azul to be extremely artificial - this is just because most emotions that aren't apathy or anger already come off this way to Viz. She likely knows her name and a couple of her classes/what teachers she has. This is pretty standard for most people she meets- she compartmentalizes people's schedules in her head, and knows where people typically are at any given time. This is nothing sinister, it's just information that happens to stick.

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

I would like to think she and Azul met in grade 9/the equivalent during some sort of spelling or science competition. While they're not quite as close as they used to be, she will sometimes rib him about academic achievements, and has his phone number. They're good friends, but she's definitely closer to Floyd now than she is with Azul.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs? (THIS IS DYNAMIC!! I CAN AND WILL ADD TO THIS IF OTHER PEOPLE WANT TO CHAT/COLLABORATE!!)

Floyd - honestly, the only person she feels she can act her age around. She loosens up around him - not enough to open up, actually, they know like NOTHING about each other, they just. Vibe. Ride or Die friends. One of the few people that makes her genuinely happy.

Jade - More casual friends. She eats lunch with him sometimes, and they text each other niche microbio/myc-olgy memes :D

Cater - He's a year ahead of her, but her dad (and her) helped him and his family move into their place at the beginning of her grade 9 year/his grade 10. They live down the street from each other, so he would walk her to and from school, and sometimes, to avoid the rising tension at home, she would hang out at his place. She used to walk him through his homework because she would study extra just to try and impress him. He painted her phone case as a thank you. (NOTE: THIS IS NOT MY AU. THIS IS LORE I'M MAKING UP ON THE SPOT. IF IT DOESN'T FIT/OP HAS DIFFERENT IDEAS, THIS IS NULL.) /lh/gen

@distant-velleity Yuhua - friends that fell out over misunderstandings :( She misses his company, but feels that her associating with him might drag him down with her. She knows the standard he holds himself to. She knows she's also been more bristly, harder to talk to, but if not even her former best friend could see past the mask she wears, maybe it's for the better she's no longer 'best friends' with him anyways...

Game Mechanic: If Quartz can make Viz and Yuhua make-up, they'll be able to incapacitate/distract Floyd for some time. This can be achieved by

Sending both of them to detention (medium difficulty, a few hours)

Obtaining Vizzie's journal and giving it to Yuhua (extreme difficulty, the entire next day)

@boopshoops Yuu Shi - Unlikely friends. Viz needed a favour and she paid a good price - Yuu Shi is the only person thus far that has been allowed to read any entry she wants from Vizzie's journal. In exchange, Viz was lent keys long enough to make a replicate of a store room key, and the roof access key. After that, the two keep in touch via post it notes - some are cute, but some hold more significant meaning.

Game Mechanic: If Quartz can get to the sticky notes before Yuu Shi does, (as they are left on the outside of her locker), she may find clues that pertain to Viz and Yuu Shi's future meeting spots to exchange info, puzzles to find out certain people's phone passcodes, or a hint as to where a weapon or usable item may be hidden.

If Quartz is caught by Viz, she'll only end up telling Yuu Shi so as to have someone who is more...influential to start up an embarrassing rumour with some truth to it, or planted evidence to make it true. The sticky notes will no longer be on the outside of Yuu Shi's locker. (They'll find another way)

@alestrameria Yukari - Toxic, one-sided Yuri? (Not on Vizzie's half)

Overall, Viz is a ride or die type of friend once you get to that level of trust. You won't know when you've achieved that though :)

5. What grade/year is your OC? Answered here!

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

At this point, she's holding on for the kids she babysits and for her birthday to roll around- so she can finally move out of her mom's goddamned house and maybe hire a P.I to open her dad's case again.

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Honestly, being framed makes her a little bit excited, but she'll try not to show it. To her it's a puzzle, it's a matter of backtracking both Quartz's interactions and demeanor. This is a competition, and she doesn't intend to loose. She takes the accusation in stride, but the old 'honour student' comes out. She's direct and concise with her alibi, can and will manipulate the situation to her advantage. After all, she had her mom to learn from :)

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Nope! She's armed too and she hates the school uniform. Might tell Quartz that it's showing. Depending on how Quartz responds/their friendship level at that point, she may offer to modify her skirt for her, so that the pockets blend more seamlessly into the folds of the skirt, making it more difficult to detect anything in her pockets. If Quartz has pissed her off, when Quartz has gym class she'll be cutting the bottoms out of her skirt pockets. She makes a point of wearing gloves and using her old school uniform, new hairdo, and a mask to be harder to identify. Lockers ain't got shit on her.

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

She tends to be a bit of a floater during lunch. She doesn't mind keeping her own company, but she likes quieter places. She compulsively memorizes people's schedules - it's really not something she wants occupying her brain space but it does, so if there's someone she wants to meet with or...observe in particular, she usually knows where to go. During school, she skips most of the classes, hiding out in the greenhouse, a storage room, or on the roof of the building....she likes the roof.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Despite the shit she's been through, she was a gifted kid. Now she's just not putting in the same amount of effort, but she's still averaging A-/B+ in most classes. All her assignments are still in on time, and she's there for tests, but she no longer ties her grades to her self-esteem. Her grades still aren't 'good enough' for her mom.

ANYWAYS

There's my yapparoony fest FOR NOW mwahahaha

(No Yan Sim AU) Questions for OCs! + Quartz and other characters' lore

You don't have to do these if you don't want to! You can write and answer how ever you want (3rd person or as the OC)

These answers are just examples and they also give lore to other TWST characters in the AU

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Riddle currently lives with his mother. Because of her influence, he is the strictest in the student council (which consists of the dormleaders.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

[You can yap about it here since I already used Quartz as an example in the fourth question]

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Jade is Azul's right hand man. He assists Azul with a lot of student council work and is mostly by his side with Floyd. They are friends from their middle school days and up to their highschool days (although the three of them won't admit it).

Jade found Azul's hardwork and scheming nature very exciting so he and his brother always stayed by Azul's side to see what fun events would happen.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

[They are speaking about Quartz as example]

Floyd: "Who again?"

Floyd doesn't really acknowledge Quartz since she's so quick out of his sights. Genuinely believes there isn't a person named that but is suspicious.

Jade: "Oh, that shy girl? She's a little funny."

Definitely suspicious of Quartz but they don't interact much so he has no other information about her. He probably needs to be more skillful when studying her.

Riddle: "Quartz?.. Uh.. I-I don't recall who that is."

Quartz rarely interacts with Riddle.

Ace: "Ah? You mean that girl who's always so weird? I've seen her watch Azul. Pffftt! Do you think she likes him?"

He notices her sometimes because he thinks her appearance is a little flashy.

Idia: "I-Isn't she one of Azul's admirers?... She's the shy type right? She's a little strange though.. Sometimes she takes photos of me! W-Wait.. Maybe she's into me instead?! EEEKK!! H-HOW SCARY!!"

Completely misunderstands Quartz's actions but he's quick to know how weird her actions are. He stays away from her if Azul isn't present.

5. What grade/year is your OC?

Azul, Jade, and Floyd are all 2nd years (17).

Leona has been held back so he is still 20.

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

Quartz wishes to kill Azul 🙏

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Floyd is jumping her.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Riddle is absolutely reporting that! He's calling the cops and everything 🫡🫡🫡

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

Quartz is always in class but she'll come right before the bell rings since she was.. busy. She doesn't have a particular place she goes to all the time. She's never in one spot.

Quartz's lunch spot varies because she's always spying but her usual spot is in the courtyard.

Riddle is assigned being a hall monitor so he usually watches the halls when he is able to. He usually eats lunch with Trey and Cater.

Leona is always found napping under trees and skipping his classes. Ruggie manages to find him and give him his lunch from the cafeteria.

Rook is watching you.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Deuce tries, ok. (Awful)

[mochacoda]

[teaser] what is love? | chs

Pairing: Chwe Vernon x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: What is love? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that it’s what you feel for Vernon Chwe. Unfortunately for you, you really didn’t know any better. It’s been 2 days since you confessed to your best friend that you love him, and it’s been 2 days since you’ve talked to him. Now you're hiding in the bridal suite of your friend's wedding, avoiding him.

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Friends to Lovers

Tags: bridesmaid!reader, groomsman!vernon, insecure reader, jihyo appears, dino's getting married in this one lolz, intense pining, lots of internal spiraling, 2 kdrama fall moments, a little konglish w/ translations, no "y/n"

Word Count: 4.8K (full)

Full Version: January 25

What is love? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that it’s what you feel for Vernon Chwe. Unfortunately for you, though, you really didn’t know any better, and now you’re facing the consequences of your actions. 

It’s been two days since you confessed to your best friend that you love him, and it’s been two days since you’ve talked to the man. Honestly, you have no one to blame but yourself, but you’ve convinced yourself that it’s everyone else’s fault for encouraging you. Maybe, if they hadn’t kept pushing you to confess to him—insisting that he definitely was into you—then you wouldn’t be in this position. 

Said position involves taking turns hiding in the bridal suite and behind the extravagant display tables your friends have scattered throughout their wedding venue. In fact, you’re so committed to your act that you’ve practically become one with the shadows.

If anything, Vernon should be grateful that you’re going out of your way to avoid him. That way, he wouldn’t get bombarded with the secondhand embarrassment from remembering that horrible day. 

The only reason you’re here right now is because both Chan and his bride are close friends of yours, and you wouldn’t want to miss their wedding for the world. Plus, you’re also a bridesmaid. 

It was on you for blurting a disastrous confession to Vernon a few hours after the wedding rehearsal. 

What’s worse is that the bride and groom don’t even know that things have changed between the two of you. Given the chaos of wedding preparations, you withheld the fact that you and Vernon are going through a rough patch right now—if not the end of the friendship entirely. You didn’t want to add to their stress, but now you feel like you’re on fire. 

After all, it just so happens that Vernon is one of the groomsmen. Worse, the wedding plans involve bridesmaids and groomsmen walking down the aisle in pairs, and you’d been placed with Vernon without a second thought. In other words, you’re completely screwed. 

“T-minus 20,” your friend and fellow bridesmaid Jihyo says, nudging your side. “We should go now.”

You feel faint. God, what if when he sees you, he shakes his head and makes an X or something with his hands, insisting that he won’t walk down with you? What if he finds you physically embarrassing to be around, and just walks away? You’ve been running away from him the whole day, so it might not be a stretch to consider that he might have been trying to get away from you, too. 

You groan, scrunching the root of your hair, somewhat messing up your carefully curled hair. No, he wouldn’t just leave, that would ruin the wedding. He has too much love for Chan to do that to him. If he protests, he’d either do it subtly right before or confront you after it’s all over. 

You shut your eyes and take a deep breath. No one knows about your falling out except for you. And, well, Vernon, of course, but that’s not who you have to keep this secret from. You have to do your best to act normal and not at all like your heart is on the verge of bursting. 

“Has anyone ever died of embarrassment?” you suddenly ask, fingers dancing to find something to channel your nervous energy into. You fist a bit of the dress you’re wearing, then release it when you realize you can’t wrinkle the pretty material. “Shit.” You smooth over the fabric with shaky, sweaty hands.

“What is going on with you?” Jihyo’s eyes narrow as she looks you over. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you manage, bouncing your leg up and down. 

“Later, as in when?” 

“After the wedding,” you grit. You want to bury your face in your hands, but the expensive makeup gives you pause. You settle for lowering your head, staring listlessly at the white tiles on the ground. 

“Is this about what happened with Vernon?” 

You whip your head up. “You know?”

Jihyo slowly blinks, then deadpans, “Uh, A, both of you have been weird. The last time I saw you two not together was like, five years ago. And B, you’re literally the least subtle person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh,” you squeak. “Wait, what do you think happened with Vernon?”

She stares blankly at you. “You confessed. He said nothing. You ran away.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, eyes growing comically large. Then, a frown replaces your shock. You don’t need to ask her how she knows. 

Jihyo sighs, coming over to the loveseat to sit next to you. She gives you a warm side hug, rubbing your back. “He’s a massive idiot. It’s gonna be okay. Let’s just get it together for the wedding, hmm?”

You swallow roughly, then nod. 

She continues, “Seriously, though. I’ve known Vernon for almost as long as you have. He’s not great at talking when he’s caught off guard. You know that, too.”

You blink at her words, the tiniest spark of hope igniting in your chest. But you quickly stamp it out, remembering the disgusted face he had when you blurted out that you loved him. “It doesn’t matter, you say,” forcing a small, unconvincing smile. “I’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, it’s not that deep. Just walk down the aisle with him. It’ll take 10 seconds, tops.”

You’re very sure she’s exaggerating, but you wave it off. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” she says dryly.

You glare at her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good, that’s the right mentality,” she says, clasping your shoulders, shaking your upper body. “파이팅! [Fighting!]”

“해야지, [gotta do it,]” you mutter. 

Jihyo’s right. You’ll have to see Vernon anyway, so you might as well do it with as much dignity as you can scrap together. 

Except, the little dignity you have left demands some more time to procrastinate and linger in your regret.

Jihyo stands up from the couch, but you don’t. You can’t bring yourself to do it just yet.

You groan, “Just go without me, I’ll leave soon. I wanna go as late as possible.” 

Jihyo looks at you with what you can only describe as immense pity. “Okay. I’ll see you in five?” 

You nod, watching her walk to and open the doors of the bridal suite. 

Vaguely, you can hear some absentminded chatter across the room from the hair and makeup artists, mother of the bride, and maid of honor, all crowded over the bride. It’s all but a buzz in the back of your mind, though, since you’re preoccupied with trying to convince yourself that you have it in you to face Vernon. Knowing you only have five minutes before needing to walk down the aisle with him, your mouth feels dry—too dry. 

At that realization, you force your heavy limbs to get up, then walk over to the table where a myriad of miscellaneous objects have been strewn about. You reach for your bag to take out your water bottle, but your hands falter when you look at the little keychain attached to the bag. 

It’s a silver charm bracelet you’ve repurposed as a bag charm. It has a turtle and retriever puppy on it, representing the animals you’ve viewed each other as being. Seeing the charms makes your heart clench, reminding you of how much you’ve missed him in the last two days. 

Could you ever forgive yourself for ruining your precious friendship? For getting too greedy, for asking for too much? 

Your hands grip the edge of the table roughly, searching for something to stabilize your body, which is dangerously teetering in the high heels you had convinced yourself you’d be able to walk properly in. 

Subconsciously, your hand reaches out from the table corner to your bag, gently rubbing the golden retriever charm Vernon always said looked like you, and you’re hit with a sudden intense wave of sadness and regret—but not for the confession. 

No, now, you regret your insecure internal ramblings. Sure, maybe you and Vernon wouldn’t be friends anymore. Maybe you would have to live without seeing him ever again. 

But you’d have to live with yourself, and it wasn’t right to treat yourself like this. 

Technically, Vernon didn’t even say anything to you. He didn’t call you pathetic, he didn’t say you weren’t someone worthy of love. So it was completely unfair for you to jump to those conclusions yourself, conclusions that he hadn’t said to you in the first place. It would be unfair to him to put words in his mouth. 

And it was even more unfair to you, represented by this adorable puppy charm, to lose yourself to heartbreak. 

Straightening your back, your other hand reaches into your bag for your water bottle. Upon chugging the remainder of the water, you close your eyes, concentrating on making your heart rate slow down. It works, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

You might have to live with the fallout of this confession, but you could also live with the truth. Loving Vernon wasn't a mistake, and it wouldn't feel like one, no matter how he responded. He deserved honesty, and you deserved to stand by it. Even if this was the end, you wanted to leave this part of your story knowing you'd done right by both of you.

With this renewed clarity, you steady yourself. Vernon doesn’t love you, and that’s okay. You’d do enough loving for the both of you, but this time, you’d leave room for loving yourself, too.

────୨ৎ────

Vernon steps into the bridal suite, his heartbeat thundering in his chest. He’s spent the past half-hour searching for you in every nook and cranny of the venue, dodging curious glances and half-hearted jokes from the other groomsmen about his obvious distraction. Jihyo’s the one who finally points him in the right direction, murmuring something about how it’s been over five minutes, and maybe he’s the only one who can get you to show up.

When he sees you standing by the table, shoulders tense, your hands gripping the edge like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, his breath catches. There you are, beautiful and fragile all at once, lost in your thoughts. His heart twists. How did it come to this? How did the best thing in his life become the one thing he feels he’s on the verge of losing?

“Hey,” he says softly, taking a step forward, calling your name softly.

Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice, and the sudden movement sends you teetering in your high heels. Eyes wide, you twist toward him, your balance faltering. “Vernon?”

It happens in a split second. One of your heels catches on the edge of the rug, and you stumble forward. Vernon darts forward instinctively, catching you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you tightly, steadying you against his chest.

For a moment, everything stops. You’re so close you can hear his heartbeat, a frantic rhythm that matches your own. But just as you start to regain your footing, your heel accidentally digs into his foot, and he lets out a yelp of pain. The abrupt shift in weight sends him off balance, and the two of you tumble onto the floor in a tangled heap.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Vernon’s crazy seagull call of a laugh cuts through the tension. 

It’s infectious, and before you know it, you’re both laughing, the sound filling the room. It’s ridiculous, it’s messy, and it’s the most alive you’ve felt in days.

When your body relaxes all of its tension, you realize that you’ve missed him with every fiber of your being. That something in you has been waiting for him, like you’ve been in withdrawal without hearing his laughter in the last two days. That you might not be able to bring yourself to stay away from him any longer. 

Author's Note: hi more to come soon :)

Tags: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone

[mythicalninjas]

Not Just A Miner

Tf.One Orion Pax X Cog!Femme!Cybertronian!Reader

Author's note: I got inspired by a scene from an old brazilian movie called "Ó pai, Ó" (2007) in which the protagonist refutes racist remarks made by his friend. Click here to check it out (I couldn't find the english version, only in my native language). Also, I advise you to watch this movie if you have an opportunity.

Rate/Warnings: NSFW, prejudice, bullying, hate. | SFW, reader defends her friend.

Maybe it would be a good idea to be a prankster in the secret archives of Iacon instead of stealing useless material things. Not that young miner Orion Pax is one. He's just been searching for the truth ever since he became suspicious of the ancient and mysterious story of the 13 Primes. What happened to cause the great protectors of Cybertron to die in such mysterious ways? Why is Sentinel Prime's most beloved government hiding such information? Orion has searched countless files for cycles, and they all end with the same story.

Running from the two angry guards who are twice the size of the cogless miner, Orion's hope is to catch the fast approaching train at the nearest station, which is only 20 meters away from his position.

"Stop, miner!" Darkwing shouted from behind, pushing and dodging bots that were in his way.

KDQ-1, the other guard accompanying Darkwing, flies down from the air and lands directly in front of Orion, blocking his path. "Where do ya think ya're going, miner?" he asked threateningly.

Orion stopped abruptly and raised both arms in surrender. "Wow, hey!" He steps back, but feels Darkwing's sturdy body blocking his path. Their evil giggles make Orion feels shivers.

"So, Orion Pix." Darkwing said sarcastically, pushing Orion toward KDQ-1 "Where were we?".

KDQ-1 laughs. "What do you think, Darkwing? Should we pick him up and throw him from that top?" he pointed at a building next to them.

The brute guard disagrees. "Nah, it would be no fun, dull. Let's rip him apart right here." Both guards laugh.

Orion chuckles nervously. "You guys are creative, huh?"

KDQ-1 grabs the miners' left arm and pull him near. "So, miner. What do you prefer?".

Orion spots the train leaving. Now he's cooked.

Darkwing grabs the other arm. "Why do you want him to choose, KDQ-1? Miners don't have choices or opinion. They only obey." Both laughs again. "They are nothing but-"

"They're nothing but what?" You interjected suddenly, causing both guards to drop Orion in fright and backing off. You took it as oportunity to stand between your friend and the guards.

Orion moves quickly behind you as soon as notice it was you.

You could feel his hands gripping your right leg as if to make sure no one takes him away. How cog-bots can be so foolish to mistreat someone who can't even defend themselves? Even more so in public? Anger boils up your circuits.

"Come on, Darkwing. I want to hear it." you confront. "What were you going to say about him and other miners?"

The brute bot and his co-worker looked at each other. KDQ-1 was the first to speak. "We were just having a warm talk. No big deal."

"I don't think that bullying someone is no big deal." You reply calmly, but firmly.

"This is no of your business, Y/N." Darkwing shouted. "Leave us alone, now!"

"Out of question!" You answered. "You must have power over miners, but not over me. You cannot treat cogless-bots badly just because-"

The brute cut in. "Are you really want to teach me to how be a good chief?" he took a fews steps toward you, making Orion shudder. The young miner doesn't want a hand-to-hand fight to start. He doesn't want his friend to be hurt by the stubbornness of others. Thanks Primus that his brother-in-arms, D-16, is safe in the train going to mines right now.

"It seems you do need." You answered, not taking your eyes off him, ready to fight back.

KDQ-1, sensing that things aren't going well and knowing his co-worker actions, puts his hand on Darkwing's shoulder, trying to stop him, but the mean bot moves it away.

"Well, well. A "hero" protecting weaks bots?" he teased, stopping halfway.

"Don't forget that the weaks bots are those who keep our Energon reserves full. Don't forget you have Energon flowing through you because of them!"

"They are just miners. Damn miners! Nothing but dumb robots!"

"Yes, they are miners, but don't miners have eyes? Huh? Don't they have hands and heads and feelings? Don't they need the same Energon to live?" Your voice grows louder and louder. "Do they not suffer from the same diseases and need the same health care as we do?! When they feel exhausted after countless shifts, don't they need some rest just like us?! When you beat the shit out of them, don't they feel pain?! When they risk their lives down there in the mines, don't they die, too? You take advantage of them in everything because they are treated like slaves in our society, son of a bitch!"

An eerie silence fell over the open space. All that could be heard was the sound of the wind blowing off the huge buildings and the metallic sound of some construction machinery in the distance. Everyone who was passing by and paying attention to the small commotion now remained silent at Y/N's reaction, some jaw-dropped; even KDQ-1.

You were breathing heavily, as if your unimaginable reaction had been an impossible struggle to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. And you are willing to continue this discussion if necessary.

Darkwing glared angrily at Orion, who was still behind you. "Good for you, no-cog." the brute commented, ominously. "If I find you in the archives again, you'll suffer. And so will your little gray friend."

Orion's bright blue optics grew wide by his words. No... He cannot endanger someone he admires the most, someone he considers a brother. Darkwing is far more evil than he could have imagined. Suddenly, he feels you moving and blocking the threatening eye-contact between him and Darkwing.

Darkwing lifted his face up toward you. "And it will be a moment you won't be there, Y/N". He, then, was led by his co-worker through the crowd, away from there. All the other cog-bots returned to their tasks, murmuring about what they had just witnessed.

You sighed with relief that the situation was over without developing into something worse. Turning around, you realize that Orion also feels the same way. "Are you okay, Orion?" You asked softly as crouch down. "Did they do something else to you?".

Orion rubs his arm left arm. "Just a bit sore. Nothing to worry about it."

You lift an "eyebrow". His expression of pain was evident on his face as he try to move his arm with difficulty. "They've made a mess right there. Come along. I'll take you to a doctor to fix it."

"Oh, no need for it. I'm ok-" he grows by pain.

You smiled down at him. "Orion, don't resist. Let's go. And also... Don't put yourself in danger ever again... You know what Darkwing is capable of. Don't underestimate him."

"Yeah, I'm sorry... But, you know why I still insist on it. Something isn't right about Cybertron's past before Sentinel Prime's reign".

"I understand you Orion, but it doesn't mean you have to be chased by the authorities all the time. I don't want to imagine what would happen if they get you in a wrong moment." You sighed and watch the giant concrete jungle landscape. "I won't always be there to protect you."

Orion remained silent for a few minutes while the two of them stared at the cityscape before them. The miner is indeed quite stubborn, and that has consequences, especially for those who are not to blame. Rules and protocols are not even close to something he would follow. Orion doesn't like that, and it is what makes him different. Something that makes him look beyond work.

"I promise." he finally speaks. "I promise to not get in trouble."

You knew that Orion would never stop his extreme adventures.

And that defines him.

Damn, he can't wait to meet up with D again and tell him everything that happened and how brave you were. They knew that you, their best friend, are a hero. Someone they could trust their life with.

☆☆☆☆☆

Reblog to support and let more people read my work 🫶🥰

[dramaticallytotal]

I definitely want to know what alejandro was thinking at that moment, especially when it happened again afterward 😈

Six? Six! How had he not known about these six gilipollas!? Alejandro prided himself on his observation skills, I mean, how else was he supposed to find out other people's weaknesses without them? (Other than with his nonexistent hacking skills. Of course there was always bribery for information but it was so much sweeter when he found out a weakness on his own by good ol detective work or by being so charming that the weakness was told to him). So, how did he miss all these boys hitting on his teammate? Not that he could blame them, mind you. Noah certainly had the smarts to be intriguing and make a conversation worthwhile. The way he debated made his eyes shine with life, and his usual smirk would morph into a small, genuine smile. This was especially true when he spoke about books.

You could always tell what was happening in a book that Noah was reading because he became so expressive. It was such an interesting transformation to see. So it was easy for Alejandro to see why these boys thought they could approach Noah. What baffled him is that Noah responded! Though, from what was revealed, it was a misunderstanding on Noah's part, which was admittedly adorable of the resident snark, considering he was normally the first one to figure something out. So perhaps Alejandro had done or said something that Noah had misinterpreted, that made him make such a "joke" during the Jack the Ripper challenge.

To others, it was probably seen as just that, a joke, but to Alejandro, he could hear the underlying bitterness and mistrust. Maybe it was just because Alejandro had made the shorter male maneuver through the lasers in Paris like Noah had explained, but he just had this feeling it was something more. Perhaps Noah thought he was punishing him for calling him "out" in Germany. Though the bookworm's way of calling out was just straight up asking Alejandro why he threw the challenge. Of course, he denied it, but Noah didn't seem to believe him. He also didn't comment even if he didn't so Alejandro thought they were all good.

Apparently not.

That was why he had fully planned on confronting Noah after the challenge, only for everyone to see some punk (literally to everyone else and figuratively on Alejandro's end) hitting on Noah. Alejandro could understand why the punk, who he later learned was named Ezra, had hit on Noah. He had eyes after all, but the sight had made his blood boil for some odd reason. Perhaps it was because he knew his amigo could do better than some boy who had stormed after a kidnapped Duncan without stopping to think he should call someone and without a weapon since the mob thought they could save their former castmate. The plan lacked common sense and actually thought, and Noah valued intelligence. Clearly, this hooligan lacked such a quality despite his insight and thoughts on the novel, Good Omens, which Alejandro had also read and had been planning on talking to Noah about.

He could handle Ezra... but five other boys, including the Brit!? How was he supposed to deal with five unknown entities! They all were obviously not good enough for Noah. They made him cry for Christ's sake! Noah did not deserve to worry himself to the point of tears and an anxiety attack. The boys were deceitful in their intentions (hypocrite) when they should have been upfront in their attraction to Noah. He deserved to know he was desired. That his thoughts were adored, his heart cherished, and his soul worshipped.

That was just Alejandro's opinion, though.

So how dare these worthless worms make such a proud man such as Noah waste tears on them. He vowed then and there to protect his friend and show him he was trustworthy. Obviously, Noah, who seemed to have a penchant for misunderstandings, had misread something Alejandro had said or done and this was the perfect opportunity to fix it!

Thankfully, when they got to stay in Greece, Alejandro managed to keep Noah by his side by debating and discussing their favorite Greek history moments and myths. It was a wonderful couple of days spent having stimulating intellectual conversations and trying local cuisine. It was something Alejandro liked despite his weak stomach and something that Owen was surprisingly good at finding. The butter donkey was good for something, but it was not a surprise that the something he excelled in was food related. Alejandro claimed their hang out was good for the team morale, and this would not be seen as suspicious. He counted the experience as a win.

The Area 51/52 challenge went by and though they stayed in Nevada, they didn't stay in a town or anything, they stayed in the plane so Alejandro didn't need to protect his small friend. But then they went to Australia. His team won, which was great, and the fact Chris let them stay in Bendigo was another plus. He had overheard Chris talking to Chef (you would think he would have learned his lesson) about their stay originally. It was supposed to be in Mildura, but as some sort of secret apology for embarrassing him too much on TV, Chris decided to switch their stay to Bendigo since Noah supposedly had always been fascinated with the place and had spoke of it a couple times when he worked for Chris.

It was weird and a little disturbing to know Chris actually had a heart and a conscience.

Overall, Alejandro was having a great time, and so it seemed was his team, especially Noah. Maybe that's why he let his guard down and let Noah hold their table outside the restaurant they had chosen while the rest of the team went in to order or use the restroom. He wanted to slap himself for being so stupid because by the time they went back outside, some boy was talking to a flustered Noah! It was like time started to move in slow motion as Alejandro watched the boy give Noah a kiss on the cheek. It was only when the boy pulled back and smiled at Noah that Alejandro felt he could move once more. In fact, he didn't think he had ever moved that fast in his life, and yet he still didn't reach his friend until that fiend left him with a wink! How dare he! HOW DARE HE!

Noah had been in a daze the entire afternoon after that, and no amount of teasing from Duncan or Izzy would snap him out of it. It was just another thing that had Alejandro's temper rise. That was it. That was the last boy that would be added to that so-called harem! Alejandro would make sure of it! From then on, it was like you couldn't find Noah without Alejandro. He was always there by the bookworm's side, whether they be deep in discussion or simply existing next to one another. Alejandro claimed he liked the peace and quiet that came with those times so anytime Noah wanted to read, Alejandro was there for him to lean on.

What Noah didn't know is that this worked as a natural deterrent to any boys that saw him and thought him cute because it looked like he and Alejandro were a couple. And the small number of times they weren't together, Alejandro would appear out of thin air and gently manhandle Noah somewhere else while being slightly more touchy than usual. It was something Noah had started to get used to, so he gradually thought nothing of it. Whenever he did this, Alejandro would stare at the boy who had been about to approach Noah with the biggest shit eating grin.

It wouldn't be until the wedding challenge that Alejandro realized he had the biggest fattest crush on Noah. It would also be that challenge that Alejandro nearly cried at the beauty of Noah in a wedding dress and tux jacket. Little did he know that Noah's International Bookclub members also nearly weeped at the sight.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty-four: Fractured Walls

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous |24| next

Series Masterlist

The days that followed felt like a delicate dance—one where every step, every movement, was measured and careful. In-ho had distanced himself, but it wasn’t the same cold, distant wall he’d once put up. Now, it was like a door left slightly ajar, the cracks in his armor still visible but not easily breached. The pain in his eyes lingered, but so did the silence. He was more restrained, more controlled, but there was something else—something you couldn’t quite name, but you felt it. He was waiting for you to push, to challenge him, to see if you would let him hide.

You hadn’t pushed yet. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you understood. Losing someone, especially someone you loved with everything you had, left a scar deep enough that no amount of time could heal it. You could see it in the way he moved, the way his jaw clenched when he thought you weren’t looking, the way his eyes sometimes lingered on you as though trying to decide if you were worth the risk. He had built walls, but now they were just fragments—broken enough for you to see glimpses of what was underneath.

And so, you waited.

But waiting wasn’t always easy.

The following evening, you found yourself standing in front of In-ho’s office door. The silence in the hallway was suffocating, like the quiet before a storm. You weren’t sure what you were hoping for. Maybe a conversation, or maybe just the courage to finally confront him again. Something inside you told you it was time. Time to stop tiptoeing around the truth.

You knocked twice before stepping inside. He looked up from the papers on his desk, his usual unreadable mask in place, but there was a flicker in his eyes. A flicker you knew all too well. He wasn’t angry—he was… conflicted. Conflicted in the way only someone who had been hurt so deeply could be.

“You need something?” His voice was calm, controlled—too controlled, almost as if he was bracing for a confrontation.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. There was a knot in your throat, but you wouldn’t let it stop you.

“I need to talk,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with something that might have been uncertainty.

He leaned back in his chair, studying you in that quiet way he did, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of his desk. His mask was still firmly in place, but the air around him felt thick—heavy with the unspoken tension.

“What about?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly, though you could see the flicker of curiosity behind the coldness.

You took a step forward, your gaze unwavering as you met his. “About us. About what happened after the panther mask… and about you pulling away.”

In-ho’s jaw tightened at the mention of the panther mask, but he didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he stood up, walking to the window without a word. His back was to you, but his posture had stiffened, the tension in his broad shoulders radiating out like a warning. He hadn’t even taken the time to mask the rawness in his expression, and for a brief moment, you saw the cracks in his calm demeanor.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, do you?” His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could hear the edge of frustration in it. “I told you before. This life… this world… it’s not for you.”

You didn’t flinch, even though your heart skipped a beat. You were used to his intensity now, used to the way he could shut you out with just a few words. But that wasn’t going to stop you. Not this time.

“I know this world isn’t easy,” you said, your voice quieter but still firm. “But I’m already in it, In-ho. Whether you want me to be or not. And I’m not asking for anything more than… honesty. I need to understand why you won’t let me in.”

He turned to face you, his gaze sharper now, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. For a moment, his eyes softened—just the slightest hint of vulnerability flickering behind the cold mask. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same guarded distance.

“I can’t do this,” he said, his voice thick with frustration. “I can’t open myself up again. Not after… not after everything that happened.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. There it was—the reason behind the walls. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you—it was that he didn’t know how to let someone in again. He was afraid. Afraid of the very thing you were hoping to build.

“You’re afraid,” you said, your words soft but firm. “You’re afraid of losing someone again, aren’t you?”

He flinched, the barest flicker of emotion crossing his face before it was hidden again. The silence stretched between you both, thick with the weight of his unspoken pain.

“Losing someone…?” His voice faltered for a split second, and you saw the wall in him crack just a little more. “I lost everything once. My wife. My child. I let myself love them, and it destroyed me when they were gone.”

Your heart ached for him—really ached, in a way you hadn’t anticipated. He wasn’t just pushing you away; he was guarding himself from something deeper. Something that threatened to break him if he allowed it to resurface.

“I can’t make the same mistake again,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, the vulnerability in it raw. “I won’t.”

You felt the urge to step closer, to reach out to him, but you stopped yourself. You knew he wasn’t ready for that yet. But you weren’t going to let him push you away this time.

“You don’t have to love me right now,” you said, your voice calm but unwavering. “But don’t shut me out. Don’t shut yourself out. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence thick with the weight of his words and your own. You could feel his struggle, the internal battle waging inside him. He wanted to push you away, but he also wanted to pull you closer. You could see it in the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way his jaw tightened with effort.

Finally, In-ho broke the silence, his eyes never leaving yours. “I can’t promise you anything,” he said, his voice rough. “Not right now. Not after everything.”

“I don’t need promises,” you replied, taking a step toward him. “I just need you to trust me. Little by little. I’m not asking for everything.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if weighing your words, before slowly opening them again. This time, there was something new in his gaze—a hint of uncertainty, a crack in his resolve that he couldn’t hide.

“You have more patience than I thought,” he muttered, almost to himself, before his gaze softened ever so slightly. “But you should know… this isn’t easy for me.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I’m not asking for it to be easy. Just… don’t push me away. Not when I’m here.”

There was another long pause, the air between you both heavy with unspoken thoughts, but this time, the silence felt different. It didn’t feel like a wall—it felt like a quiet understanding, a beginning of something that neither of you could fully define yet.

But at least now, there was the possibility of something real. Something you could hold onto.

———————

Chapter 24! How do you guys like this? Do you like how I’ve written the chapters and the characters? Thank you!

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[lynnieverse]

undertow // turbulence

✰ second chapter!

✰ 2k words

✰ chapter song -> bad blood by bastille

✰ tags: morally grey, one-sided rivalry, mystery, mutual pining, tension, redemption

✰ a/n: I hope you like the second chapter! Thanks so much for the likes on chapter one! <3

Lennox woke with a pounding in her head and the overwhelming urge to vomit. Groaning, she rolled over, checking her phone before stumbling into her bathroom. 

As she hugged the toilet bowl, flashes of her argument with Rafe came back to her. Calling him an asshole, cruel, a black hole—God she felt horrible. Lennox couldn’t believe she unloaded on him like that, even if he deserved it. She was a very non-confrontational person, and she hated hurting people’s feelings. No matter who they were. That being said, he was a smug son of a bitch. Ordering her around, calling her princess all the time…he just got under her skin. No person had ever been able to do that as much as Rafe Cameron. 

Once she had successfully emptied her stomach and scraped herself off the tile, she slowly descended the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. Her entire family was there, Dad making breakfast as Mom and Topper talked at the bar. Topper noticed her first. 

“Len! You look rough, is the hangover that bad?” he teased, causing her to stick her tongue out at him. She decided not to comment on his own drunkenness the night before, so he wasn’t ripped a new one by their mom.

“Have some juice, honey,” her mom slipped a cup into her hand, patting her on the shoulder affectionately. Lennox took a satisfying sip, letting the cold liquid soothe her dry throat. 

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Breakfast is ready!” Dad sang, moving platters from the counter to their dining room table. Lennox flinched at the sudden increase in volume, caressing her head, but slid into her spot at the table with ease. It was overflowing with food, way too much for the four of them, but that was her dad. As they gathered to eat as a family, her dad decided to strike up a conversation about business. 

“Oh, by the way, Lennox. Rafe Cameron is going to be stopping by later to discuss a potential collaboration on a property.” She immediately choked on her orange juice, causing a coughing fit. Her mom instinctively started to rub her back, a worried look on her face. 

“What?” she croaked, rubbing her throat and wiping the water from her eyes. 

“Yes, and I think this is the perfect project for you to take the lead on, seeing as you’re both lacking a lot of experience.” She looked at her mom and Topper, trying to decipher whether or not this was a prank. Topper was trying not to laugh, and her mom looked sympathetic. Shit.

“Dad, no! I cannot work with Rafe, it’s like asking me to work with…with…I don’t know but it’s not going to work!” She couldn’t believe this was happening; she was expected to work with public enemy number one. 

“Oh quit being a drama queen. You’ll be fine,” he waved her off, cutting into his pancakes as if nothing was happening.

“But–”

“No buts!” he raised his voice. Lennox shrunk down immediately at his tone. “You will work with the boy, and it’ll be great!” Dad smiled. Lennox groaned before stuffing her mouth full of pancakes. This would not be great. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Lennox’s glare must have had some heat to it, because Rafe just made eye contact through her second story bedroom window.

As he sauntered to her front door she couldn't help but notice how nice he looked. He put on an actual suit for the meeting, save for a tie, and carried a briefcase. Still looked like a douche though.

Lennox took a deep breath before checking her appearance one more time. Her brown hair was curled, pulled back by two braids. She put on some light makeup and a business suit, trying to make a good first impression with her dad. He was always business business business when it came to things like this. In the meeting, she wouldn’t be his daughter, she’d be his associate. 

Lennox exited her room and made her way down the stairs slowly. They were waiting for her at the bottom, her dad having already welcomed Rafe. By the amount of hand motions he was making, she assumed her dad was engaged in a passionate conversation about work. Rafe didn’t seem to be paying that much attention.

His eyes never left her as she slowly approached, smirking at how uncomfortable she looked. The sound of her heels on the hardwood floor gave her away, and her dad finally heard her behind him. 

“Ah! Lennox, come welcome Mr. Cameron.” 

“Oh, Rafe will do just fine, Mr. Thornton,” his deep voice rasped, eyes flicking over her. She suddenly felt self conscious in her cranberry suit, wishing she’d worn something less…form fitting. Dad didn’t notice, just chuckled and clapped Rafe on the back. 

“Well then, call me Jack!” Lennox rolled her eyes, already hating the camaraderie forming between the two.

“Lennox!” he whispered sharply at her, the smile remaining on his face. She begrudgingly stepped forward, offering her hand with a strained smile. 

“Mr. Cameron, lovely to have you!” Her hand slipped into his easily, and she felt the warmth that radiated from it throughout her entire body. Their eyes met and she felt a fire in her stomach.

 Loathing. That’s what this was. Pure unadulterated loathing. 

“Lovely to see you again, Princess.” Lennox’s mouth gaped in response, looking over to her father for help. The man simply looked confused and happy to be there. 

She wondered how he got away with things like that. 

“If you don’t mind, can we take this meeting in the sitting room?” she said through bared teeth. He really was going to make her lose her mind. 

“Of course,” he bowed his head a bit, clasping his hands behind his back. She didn’t particularly want to walk in front of him, but swallowed her pride, leading them through the house. When they arrived, she took a seat at the head of the table, gesturing the chair directly to her left. Her dad hovered in the doorway, watching her like a hawk. 

“Alright, I’ve briefed Lennox on everything we’ve discussed, Rafe, and I feel confident she can take over from here if that’s alright with you?” Rafe barely turned his head, eyes directed towards her, and replied. 

“That sounds perfect, Jack, thank you.” Dad nodded and sent her a wink before closing the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone. The silence was heavy, and Lennox knew she’d have to talk eventually, but she just couldn’t. Thankfully he made the first move. 

“You’re not still mad about last night, are you? Or do you even remember it?” She scoffed, unamused. 

“Please, I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Sure, Princess, whatever you need to tell yourself.” 

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with.” 

“Alright, calm down, I’ve got the whole thing planned out. It’ll be fun.” Rafe popped open his briefcase and pulled out a manila folder, flipped it open, and slid it towards her. 

“Fun? Yeah, working with you sounds like a dream come true,” she said with crossed arms. Rafe smirked, but ignored her. 

“It’s a resort. Beachfront, private, exclusive—exactly what the OBX needs. I inherited the land after my dad… well, you know.” His expression flickered for a moment, but he covered it quickly, flipping through the pages. “Your family’s real estate empire handles the logistics, and I’ll manage the operations and design.” 

“Wait,” Lennox held up a hand, “You’re managing the design?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he chuckled, “I’m actually good at this sort of thing. You’d know if you hopped off that high horse of yours.” 

She ignored the jab, leaning over the table to glance at the blueprints he laid out. To her annoyance, the concept wasn’t terrible. The resort was sleek, modern, and perfectly tailored for high-end clients. She could almost see it working—almost.

“This isn’t bad,” she admitted reluctantly, tapping the page. “But the infrastructure on this stretch of land is a nightmare. It’s going to cost a fortune to get it up to code.”

Rafe shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “That’s your problem, isn’t it? Logistics. I’m here to make it look good.”

Lennox rolled her eyes. “Of course you are. You just want your name attached to it without doing the actual work.”

“Hey, I’m doing plenty of work,” Rafe shot back, sitting up straight. “Just because you’re too busy judging me doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Her frustration boiled over. “Judging you? Rafe, you’ve made it impossible not to judge you. Forgive me for not thinking this is suddenly your redemption arc.”

His jaw tightened, and for a second, the mask slipped. “You don’t know shit about what I’ve been dealing with, Lennox. I’m trying to clean up the mess my dad left behind. This project? It’s the first thing that’s actually mine. So yeah, I care about it.”

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard, and she hated herself for even slightly softening. She shifted in her seat, clearing her throat. “Fine. But if we’re going to work together, there’s no room for your usual bullshit. This has to be professional.”

Rafe smirked again, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Whatever you say, Princess. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Lennox pressed her palms flat against the table, inhaling deeply. She wasn’t going to let Rafe Cameron rile her up again. Not this time.

“Alright,” she said briskly, gathering the blueprints into a neat pile. “We’ll need to tour the site first. I’ll need updated infrastructure reports, environmental impact assessments, and a list of contractors you’ve already reached out to.”

Rafe let out a low whistle. “Wow, thorough. You’ve really got this ‘boss lady’ thing down, huh?”

“Or,” she countered, “I just know how to handle things without half-assing them.”

“Lucky me, I guess. The site’s about twenty minutes out. Let’s go.”

Lennox froze. “Go? Now?”

“No time like the present, Princess,” he said, already rising from his chair and tossing her the keys to his Jeep. She caught them clumsily, glaring.

“You expect me to drive your car?”

“You’re the expert, remember?” He grinned. “I’m the ideas guy.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Charming, though,” he quipped, grabbing the blueprints and heading for the door. “Come on, Princess. Daylight’s burning.” 

God, she hated him.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

When they arrived at the property, Lennox was pleasantly surprised. It looked exactly like the pictures. The land was stunning—untouched dunes rolling into sparkling waves, with thick greenery framing the shoreline. For a moment, Lennox forgot about Rafe entirely. She stepped forward, her heels sinking slightly into the sand, and took it all in.

“Okay,” she admitted reluctantly. “It’s beautiful.”

“See? I’m not completely useless,” Rafe said, striding up beside her, hands in his pockets. “This place has potential. High-end suites here, a private marina there...”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ambitious.”

“What can I say, I’ve got big ideas…and deep pockets.” Lennox rolled her eyes. 

“Alright hotshot, let’s walk around.” He nodded and took the lead. She paused to slip off her shoes before catching up. They start making their way down the coastline, Rafe pointing out specifics of his design as they did. She really did hate to admit it, but he was good at this. 

“You’ve really thought this through…” He turned and squinted at her, having to raise his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. 

“Yeah, I’m not dicking around here, Lennox. This isn’t me playing dress up, trying on Daddy’s shoes for fun.” She opened her mouth to fire back, but something in his tone stopped her. She looked at him—really looked—and for the first time she saw something she almost pitied. 

“Rafe–” she started, but he cut her off.

“Just don’t.” He turned away, his usual smirk back in place. “I already told you I don’t do therapy sessions, Princess.” 

“But–”

“You’re the one that said stick to business, alright? Let’s do that.” He left no room for argument, so Lennox shut up. The pair walked back towards his Jeep in silence, Lennox focusing on the waves rushing over her feet. She’d never felt this awkward around him; pissed, sure, but awkwardness was new. When they made it back, Rafe spoke quietly. 

“What’d you think?” She fought for a critique, but it never surfaced. 

“Honestly? I think it’s perfect. We’d be stupid not to partner with you.” His face lit up, smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, and for some reason that caused her stomach to flip. 

“Really?” The excitement in his voice was evident even if he tried to keep it down. 

“Yeah. I hate to say it, but you’ve got yourself a deal.” Lennox held out her hand and he took it with ease. 

“So I guess we’re partners now,” he smirked. 

“If this is what I’ll have to deal with everyday, I need a raise.” 

“Careful, Princess. You might end up liking me.”

 “Doubtful,” she replied, but there was no real malice behind it. He had caught her off guard today, being less of an asshole. It wasn’t good for her health, surely. She was being cordial with him. No, professional. She was being professional and that’s all that mattered.

[bumblingbabooshka]

What if Janeway (as a lieutenant commander) habitually went to the mess hall late at night because she's a cook so terrible it extends to replicated food and she can usually find something to snack on there but one day she finds that among the usual things left out for people to grab, there's something homemade and she takes a chance on it to find it's DELICIOUS!

From that point on she sometimes finds homemade things with a note in the same handwriting, declaring that anyone's free to take a portion. (Janeway sometimes takes more than one, oops) and she becomes increasingly curious about who it is leaving these dishes and though other people have also taken portions no one seems to know who's leaving them.

Then one night she comes into the mess hall to find Tuvok there. She tenses up, ready for a confrontation. To say they don't get along well would be an understatement, but she can't just turn around and walk right back out after locking eyes with him. They both give each other a terse, obligatory greeting. Then as Tuvok moves away Janeway notices that he left a tray of something...with a note. With THE Note!! It's his handwriting! Janeway stops Tuvok to talk about how she's been eating the food he leaves sometimes and how good it is and Tuvok seems to be responding woodenly, as if he wants to end the interaction as soon as possible which irritates Janeway and so (along with genuine curiosity) she decides to extend the conversation by asking why he sometimes leaves food. Tuvok hesitates then admits he at times makes too much unconsciously because he's used to cooking for a large family. Before [re-]joining Starfleet he was never really away from them. He asks that Janeway not reveal his identity because he doesn't want others to perceive it as an attempt to curry favor (he's remembering the sulu incident). Janeway softens a bit. She didn't know Tuvok had a family or could admit to making mistakes. It makes her like him more. They say goodnight to one another and Tuvok leaves. The next day when they happen to see each other, Janeway tells Tuvok (in a conspiratorially low voice) that she found the dish he made last night exquisite as always. Tuvok says a brief thank you, then hurries off, almost as if embarrassed. Janeway smiles. It's one of the first breaks in the ice between them.

[survivalxofxthexfittest]

"Easier?" he asked quietly in disbelief. "Let me get this straight. You think..." His brow furrowed in renewed confusion and he couldn't control the ironic huff of a laugh that fell between them. His drunken mind was trying to wrap itself around how, arguably since his return, every shitty, chaotic, traumatizing moment fuel moving destiny faster and faster toward the implosive moment of revelation back at the party and Ash thought it was easier to choose to lose his friend during all of it.

"You think it's easier to lose you as my friend? Which, if I choose to believe you made all that shit up just to spite Sada, I would. And you think that is easier than what's already happened." The scoff of realization over how little Ash seemed to think of their friendship freely escaped him. "Wow," he added with a raise of his brow, shifting his grip on the railing as he swayed slightly.

How the fuck did he get dragged into all this...shit? The night was supposed to have been a few hours of forgetting the world had gone to shit outside their doors. It was meant to let them all feel normal again. Even if just for a little while. It hadn't been meant to rip apart everything they knew and loved. Fuck! "

"That has to be some kind of joke. You want me to just make you the bad guy and be done with it," he went on with a purse of his lips followed by a quick, feigned smirk masking his barely controlled anger and a short laugh to go with it. Bile began rise in his throat at the thought of now having to confront Sada over all of this.

"Ash," he started, shutting his eyes and sighing as he raised his hand and paused, turning it into a fist before dropping it back down. Big emotions in check. "I don't want to believe Sada would ever say that about me and Miah," he pushed out, opening his eyes to find his friends again. "I don't. But then that would mean that those are your words. Not Sada's," he told him with a point his way, swaying along with the motion. "And I have an even harder time believing you would ever say anything that shitty about my brother or call Charlie a whore," he told him knowingly, the word whore especially quiet as he muttered it.

After years of constantly being volleyed back and forth between the woman he considered a mother and his chosen brother he was honestly sick of the shit with him and Sada. It was going to end once and for all. At least with John-Paul. "You want me to believe you, then quit pussy footing around what the fuck is up with you two. And I want to know everything," he went on, his anger spilling forth gently. "No more fucking secrets," he reminded him.

Right again. This time however JP couldn't deny it. As desperate as he had been growing up to find his tribe, his trust and love weren't given freely. But once they were, that was it. He remained loyal to a fault. And the world around them may have ended, but his love for his siblings, and his found family, hadn't. "Maybe," he agreed quietly, letting Ash have the win.

He finally risked a glance his way when he started apologizing. "Ash...don't, I..." he started trying to stop him with a shake of his head. Jer had alse been right that evening in telling him he needed to get his big emotions in check. That included his very despised feeling being stuck in the middle of Sada and Ash's feud. But when he went on his heart dropped. He felt like his legs were going to give out from beneath him and he had to grab hold of the railing to keep himself standing.

That couldn't be true. It just couldn't. JP's mind ran through every cherished memory. Every positive and validating thing Sada ever told him. How she so very much loved her brother. There was no way she viewed either of them as toys. There was no way. She couldn't. But he could tell Ash wasn't lying and that he wasn't just using his own words against Sada. And as much as he didn't want to believe Sada would, he knew his sister wasn't someone she particularly cared about, but that she was accepted only because of the boys. Because there wasn't a single shred of belief that Ashton would ever have called Charlie a whore.

"She said that?" he asked, choking back his reignited hurt, truly afraid of his answer.

[i-write-things]

Hello, hope you're doing well. I read through your Chrollo works and really enjoyed the way you portrait him! I wanted to ask: how do you think Chrollo would react if he was confronted about how his past changed him from the kid he used to be and his lack of understanding himself as well as the lack of a proper identity without the Troupe. Sorry if it's worded wrong or weirdly, English isn't my first language. Thankyou!

(Omg, omg, omg, omg, my first ask! Keep it cool, Pen. Keep it cool...) I'm also not sure if you wanted Yandere Chrollo or regular Chrollo, so I'm gonna start with the more popular Yan!Chrollo, then do regular Chrollo.

(Yan!:) Ok, well, this is a really interesting one! You see, his reaction will depend on how you do this. Are you asking him this angrily as a way to get him upset or at the very least, shut him up and get him to think for a moment? Because if so, he'd definitely think for a moment before replying. But it's not too much, though. Maybe a solid 45 seconds before he responds with him speaking in riddles as he walks off to think some more. He'll be really quite for a while, then when your trying to sleep at night, he'll provide you with a genuine answer. (Yan! Chrollo + Regular Chrollo:) If you're more nice about it, like you're genuinely curious, and you tell him you need to talk seriously and sit him down, he'd react differently. To answer his past changing him, he'd say something along the lines of, "hm...yes. My upbringing certainly did change me, but...who cannot say the same. While I used to be more innocent with a child-like wonder, we all have to mature at some point. So no mater what would have happened, I would have grown up, anyway. Fate has....a rather interesting way of doing things." He'd think a for a little, but not too long. As long as he has fate as part of an answer to a reply, he thinks deeply, but never long. "As for the lack of understanding...well, you're not wrong there. There's just...no other way of putting it, is there? Yes...I'm not sure of who, or even, what I am. The key to understanding myself was...lost many years ago. And yet, I still remember it perfectly to this day...." He stays silent for a moment before responding to the next statement. "And....true. I am nothing without the Spider. I am only the head. And no one can identify only the head of a species as small and powerful as a spider. I put everything into the Troupe. I made many sacrifices. I, perhaps even, put myself so far into the Spider that... even I cannot take some of it back. Including myself..." He speaks in riddles as usual, and doesn't really answer your concerns unless you ask him a specific question such as the why's and the how's and stuff. But later on you understand what the last part meant: He sacrificed so much that he even gave up who he was just so he could create a group whose legacy would live far beyond he would when he meets his inevitable death. Maybe that's why he's not afraid of death? Because he's already all set with the everything he's ever wanted. Or maybe it's a fate thing. Who really knows what's going on in Chrollo's brain?