#MAYBE i'll use it for that fanfic...maybe...

[jbbuckybarnes]

Soulmate Subscription [LN4]

✨ Lando Norris x Reader (Y/N)

Author's note: Listen, the state of the world has become so ass that now after almost two years of not writing fanfic this 26yo is back at writing a bit to reduce stress. Don't expect me to be back fully because this unfortunately doesn't pay the bills (oh to be a nepo partner that can just do this on the side...i digress).

Warnings: Bro, I have never been to a GP, especially not as a VIP, so I have no clue how this shit works logistically. Reader is Lan's age because I said so, have fun being 25/26 y'all. Also zero proofreading and written past midnight. Formatting is bad because I posted from my phone...we run on vibes here the way Ferrari engineers do.

Prompt Used: Soulmate AU where you receive a monthly box containing clues to find your soulmate. (by @soulmate-au-bargain-bin) & "Please tell me you want to kiss me as much as want to kiss you"

Since the day you turned 18 in 2017 you had gotten small things sent to you in the mail that hinted at your soulmate. Some people took the clues and figured out their soulmates pretty fast, others took well into their 50s because their soulmate had such an average and difficult to guess life. The problem with your boxes was that you could tell this soulmate had a very uncommon hobby, motorsports, but you couldn't pinpoint it much further.

You had gotten sketches of helmets, a rag with motor oil on it, a map of the Silverstone circuit in the UK, an F1 pass, a nameless boarding ticket for a flight to Las Vegas, a small container of hair gel and a black shirt. All of those things didn't narrow it down. You could tell the person was into racing, but if it was as a fan or a hobby driver themselves didn't quite get across. Anyone could go to a race somewhere and anyone could be into tuning their own car or driving karts every now and then. The small clues weren't of any help so far and at age 26 you wondered if your life was interesting enough to even get your soulmate any closer to your identity. You liked taking the occasional dance class and walks in nearby nature. A concert every couple months and writing personal essays also weren't very identifying.

This months package arrived at the expected time, but it was bigger this time. You took it to your bed and grabbed the way too oversized cutter knife. Inside the box was a blue and orange piece of cloth with a number four on it. It seems to have been cut out of something actually wearable but the material was thicker than a usual shirt or jacket. You looked at the striped orange design of the number and grabbed your phone to look up the couple racing series you were familiar with by now, Formula E, NASCAR, Indycar, WEC, MotoGP, F4, F3, F2, F1. Who has a number four? F1 – "Number 4, Lando Norris, driving for McLaren" you mumbled to yourself. So your soulmate must be a fan of him maybe. He looked cute, a little fuckboy-ish if you were honest.

You looked at the cut out of the cloth more closely and noticed something stuck to the back of it. A piece of paper with something bunched up behind it.

"One of these days it'll have to work. No clue if I can will into existence what the universe sends you, but I'll keep trying to get you to a race. Watch this arrive after the race..." you quietly read the semi-fucked up handwriting and grabbed what is stuck between the cloth and the note. A pass reading "All-Access VIP – Belgian GP in Spa-Francorchamps – Hosted by: McLaren F1 Team"

Your eyes went wide, "Holy..." You didn't know a lot about racing other than the basics but you knew these were probably worth thousands.

"Guess I'll have to figure out how to get to Belgium."

—

You were standing in the humid heat of the European summer. The denim jacket that you had sewn the #4 cloth to on the back was already tied around your hips because the heat was unbearable. How were people doing this three days in a row?

You finally entered the circuit, not a clue of where to go next, but you were sure you'd figure it out. After all, VIP means there aren't many places you couldn't go. And somehow asking someone in a VIP area for help felt less odd to you, there must be rich people here all the time that don't usually do this.

Orange and McLaren is all you knew to look out for. Not that you would mind accidentally ending up in Ferrari heaven, but at this point you had caught up a bit on the sport and knew they weren't doing as well this year as expected. You walked down a mini road full of people between the paddock and mini houses that the teams brought with them everywhere.

A stressed-looking man in blue and white team gear walked by you with a bit of an entourage. You knew that one from the algorithm playing out a video of his to you. Carlos something with S.

In the distance you could spot shiny orange on one side and a bustling entry to the garage on the other side. Like orange little worker bees. You knew the shiny home is most likely where you'd find some water aka what you were sweating out in buckets at that moment.

You dodged your way through media representatives and people making a thousand times what you make a day and finally made your way in and beelined for a worker next to a barebones bar setup.

"What can I get you, Miss?"

"Just cold water, it's like walking through soup today."

"July races will do that to you." The person answered politely.

"At least there's some cooling in here." You took the cup with a small thanks.

"Almost too cold." You looked at the worker noticing them wearing a long sleeve. And they were right, five more minutes in there and you'd probably feel like you're in Antarctica. That electricity bill must be insane.

You drank the water and put your jacket back on.

"I don't know how people do this almost every week. I'd go insane from all the sensory inputs."

"You get used to it." They shrugged with a smile.

You heard the entrance to the motorhome become louder and a man entered with his racing overall half down. You knew that one, he was leading the championship right now. You weren't very keen on asking for pictures here, it's not like you were a big motorsports fan. He also just looked like he wanted his peace, so you focused back on staring holes into the walls of the McLaren home. You didn't notice the little lookover he gave you once he had walked past you.

Free Practice wasn't interesting you that much if you were honest. You'd watch the second one today but cars going fast were just cars going fast at the end of the day, you had two more days to see that. Plus finding your way to a place where you could watch was another mission.

"What do you mean it worked?" "Look." You heard two voices going back and forth behind you.

"I think I might throw up." "God, you're so dramatic." You looked towards the entrance but not behind you. You were nosy but not THAT nosy.

"Oh my god, how would I even introduce myself?" "Like you usually do?" "Os, this isn't fucking usual, not everyone magically went to school with their forever person the way you did." "If you don't talk to her, I will." "Oh hell nah, mate." "Well, I tried. Good look, Lan."

It got quiet around you, the two bickering voices had stopped, many people were already heading out to go watch FP2 in a bit, the worker had struck up a conversation with a rich-looking older lady.

A male figure appeared next to, "Nice jacket. I mean, hi. I mean...ugh, I won't even attempt to save that first impression." You giggled and looked up. Oh, the cute fuckboy-ish guy looking thrown off was kinda adorable, you had to admit.

"Hi. Lando, right?" He gave a small nod.

"Can I ask where'd you get it from,..." "Y/N" "Y/N" He said it very carefully as if he would need to remember it.

"I don't know, just kind of arrived one day." "Like a certain box that arrives every month?" "Maybe..."

He eyed you more intently, "That's from a race suite in my first season of F1. I figured I'd try to attach something to it and lose it on purpose."

You blinked at him trying to process, "HUH?"

"I'll need a little more input than that." He gave a boyish little grin but looked unsure.

"I just thought my soulmate would be a big fan of yours or working for you or something." He shrugged innocently.

"Oh boy." You exhaled, making him raise an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, are you expecting me to process that immediately surrounded by that much sensory input?" He chuckled and shook his head, "My bad, I should've expected absolute confusion."

There was a short silence, "I assume you're not much of a motorsports fan?"

"Eh...it's not my first choice, but some of the faces are hard to dodge in advertising." He gave a wide grin to you.

He looked down at his watch, "10 more minutes of being allowed to dodge my responsibilities. You wanna talk...uh, elsewhere." You nodded.

You weren't really expecting to be dragged into a tiny room while Oscar gave you a look that read as "He's always this idiotic."

"Well, uh, this is cozy..." You stood there, a bit too close to him.

"Yeah, they don't really make big drivers rooms." His hand went through his curly hair.

"At least it's more quiet." You exhaled at the relaxation level your nervous system reached.

"You need ear plugs for the weekend?" He grabbed a round little plastic casing and handed it to you.

"Uh, thanks." "If you needed it I'd literally give you what I'm wearing right now if I wasn't legally required to wear it." He chuckled.

You blinked at him again, processing.

"Sorry, that was a bit over the top. But I meant it as in 'I'd give my soulmate anything', you know?"

You nodded, still processing.

"Am I making this awkward or are you just overwhelmed?" He asked half concerned, half to lighten up the tension.

You exhaled, "Both."

"I'm not the best with first impressions I've heard." He admitted.

"No no, I think it's cute." Now both of you were flustered.

"I always expected there to be this ideal way I'd meet my soulmate. You know that moment some people talk about." "Oh, like the, we don't need to know each other, we'll kiss first and talk second kinda stories." You both giggled.

"I mean..." He looked at you clearly jokingly flirty.

"You excude too much fuckboy energy for that to ever have been a possibility." You laughed.

He feigned offense but instantly stopped and said, "Yeah no, I can see it, my PR people were working hard on that one."

"Oh, I have not seen any PR surrounding you, that's literally just your energy." "Okay NOW I'm offended, wow!"

You both broke into laughter.

"If I win this Sunday, will you change your mind?" He looked like he liked to play with fire.

"Things only a fuckboy would ask." "Well, would you?" "Are we still talking about a kiss or me not calling out your fuckboy energy?"

He caged you in a little, not in an overbearing way, you could easily leave.

"Bit of both." A short silence, "Blushing, are we?"

"Shut up." You mumbled looking away and he chuckled.

"I'll just assume that's a yes?" You met his gaze, "Yeah."

He looked at his wrist next to your head, "Well, gorgeous, wanna watch FP2 from the coolest place of all?"

"You're assuming that wouldn't be my couch for me." He laughed at that.

"I mean I guess that's nicer than in the garage with my headset on." He eyed you, "But that wouldn't be very future wife of you."

You hid your face behind your hands, "Stop it!"

"I'll think about it, darling." He grabbed one of your hands and opened the door of the drivers room again.

His hand switched to the small of your back, guiding you through way too many people to the garage and all the shebang in there.

"Lando!" Someone in the garage called out. "Gimme one second!" His face was focused putting his headphones on you, then he gave you a self-satisfied smile, "See you in a bit, Y/N."

You had to admit, a man in a race suit wasn't the worst person you could've gotten as a soulmate. You definitely didn't mind looking at him. Or his driving.

Or the way he still looked good while sweaty after the helmet came back off after the hour of free practice.

"Is it legal to still look good when sweaty?" You joked as he walked towards you.

"I don't know, you tell me." He brushed over your forehead with the towel he was holding.

"Didn't even give me the opportunity to be offended." He grinned self-satisfied at that.

"I should probably get you some team gear so you won't die out here tomorrow." He said more to himself than your while taking the headphones from you again.

"Ew, orange." "You could also wear my shirts." He shrugged and smirked as he watched you processing yet again.

You were dragged back to the driver's room, "I like the way your brain just short circuits when I flirt with you."

"You just wait until I feel comfortable enough to throw that back at you." You pretended to be offended as the door shut behind you.

"Looking forward to it." He winked at you before taking off his fireproofs. Act normal, act normal, act normal.

He put on a shirt before his hands went to the rest of his overalls...you turned around, this man was insane, unhinged, crazy.

"You can look again." He looked at you a bit sorry when you turned around again, but only a bit.

"You're unhinged." He giggled because you were right.

"You like it." "...unfortunately."

He caged you in again, "Please tell me you want to kiss me as much as want to kiss you right now."

"Dunno, it's giving kiss first, talk second soulmate stories." You teased, but put your arms around his neck.

"I still can't believe that deliberately losing something worked." You could feel his breath on you lips.

"Still can't believe my soulmate is a dumbass driving 300kph." You both giggled before closing the distance.

You didn't expect him to be so...soft and featherlight.

"I have a feeling I'll be in trouble if I don't win this week." You gave him a challenging smirk in response.

"I'd date you either way, but I'd say it's a bonus." "I feel like your existence in my life now is already a bonus."

"You're so corny." You laughed at him.

"Well, damn, I'm sorry?" He held his hands up.

"Don't be. I like it." Soft smiles were interchanged.

"Wanna sneak off and order food?" "As long as an AC is involved." He laughed and grabbed you, expertly sneaking you out of the circuit, into his hotel and spent all evening explaining his life to you between slices of pizza.

[formulafanfics13]

The Secret Girlfriend - Chapter 5

Masterlist

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

"I'll show you the bedroom," Lily offered casually, brushing her dark curls out of her face as she stepped away from the helmet display and toward the opposite end of the hallway. She didn't even glance to see if Lewis followed, she already knew he would. "But no judging."

"Of what?" Lewis called, trailing behind her. His voice was light, teasing, but there was a curiosity hanging off every word. That kind of curiosity that only hits when someone gives you the keys to something secret.

"Our candle addiction. And the fact that we use Polaroids like wallpaper."

Lily shot him a smirk over her shoulder, bare feet silent on the warm marble. The hallway curved softly, recessed lights twinkling above them like stars. Everything about the apartment whispered comfort. Money, yes, but not sterile. Not soulless. Lived in. Loved in.

She stopped in front of a door with a soft gold plaque: 4.

"Lando's idea," she said, tapping the number. "Of course."

Of course.

She opened the door, and Lewis stepped into a space so personal, so intimate, it felt almost like walking into a different home entirely.

The bedroom was a sanctuary.

The floor was smooth wood, partially covered by a massive off-white rug. The walls were an eggshell cream, soft and glowy in the late sunlight. Thick curtains hung open at the far end, revealing an entire wall of glass that overlooked the sea, Monaco's skyline glittering in the distance like diamonds scattered across satin.

And the bed? King-sized. Low to the ground. Blanketed in soft white linen sheets, slightly rumpled, like it had been napped in that morning. A couple of black silk pillowcases, a navy throw blanket tangled at the end. At least a dozen candles were scattered around, on the bedside tables, on shelves, on a little tray by the floor-length mirror. Every one in varying states of melted. Every one clearly used.

The air smelled faintly of something musky and sweet. Like vanilla and sage and something a little smoky, like sex and skin and peace.

But it was the Polaroids that stopped him in his tracks. They were everywhere.

Strung across twine over the bed. Framed in collages on the wall above the headboard. Tucked into the corners of the mirror. Leaning against perfume bottles on the vanity. Sitting proudly on the bedside tables. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.

Lily and Lando smiling in a pool, hair wet and tangled. Lily laughing in a towel, holding a bottle of wine. Lando asleep with Lily curled into his side. A close-up of intertwined hands. A blurry shot of Lily straddling Lando's lap with half her bra off and her eyes closed.

A photo of their matching tattoos.

A photo of a split lip, Lando's, with Lily holding a frozen peas bag against it and making a face.

Every memory. Every moment. Unfiltered. Loved.

"You weren't kidding about the Polaroids," Lewis murmured, walking slowly into the room like it was a museum of intimacy. He didn't reach for anything. Just looked.

"I told you," Lily said with a small smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and letting her legs swing softly.

He turned to look at the bedside tables. Lando's side had two things that made him pause.

One was a Victoria's Secret Polaroid, perfectly framed in a soft leather frame. Lily, on her knees backstage, in dark red lace lingerie, halo wings in the background. The photo was candid. She wasn't posing. Just laughing with her head thrown back and her chest out, hair falling over one shoulder, still half in glam.

The second photo? More chaotic.

Same lingerie set. Same Lily. But this time she was facing away from the camera, turned slightly at the hip, the dim stage lights bouncing off her skin. One of Lando's hands was on her ass. The other belonged to Jude Bellingham. Both men were shirtless, grinning wickedly, leaning close to her like they were about to make her fall apart. All three of them clearly knew the photo was being taken, and none of them gave a fuck.

Lewis blinked. Hard.

Lily noticed. "Too much?"

He coughed. "No. Just- you really weren't lying about the no boundaries with Jude thing."

She smiled like she was proud of that. "We're very honest around here. The boys are close. It's not what people think."

"I don't even know what I'm thinking," Lewis muttered, still staring at the photo like it might answer some kind of life question.

"Lando has one of me and Jude together too," Lily offered, unbothered. "But he keeps that one in the drawer. Just for fun."

Lewis laughed under his breath. "This whole place is insane."

She lay back against the bed, arms spread, hair splaying across the white duvet like a halo. "Welcome to the chaos."

He walked over to the window, looked out over Monaco. His reflection in the glass caught the candles flickering behind him, soft and golden.

And then, softer: "You guys really love each other, huh?"

Lily tilted her head toward him. "Completely."

Lewis didn't say anything else. Just nodded. Somehow, that bedroom said more about the relationship than any story ever could.

"How many photos do you two even have together that the world's never seen?" Lewis asked, still stuck somewhere between awe and disbelief. He sat down at the edge of the bed, turning to face Lando, who was leaning lazily against the headboard, arm around Lily like it belonged there.

Lily smiled wickedly and stretched like a cat, her arms above her head. "Too many."

Lando sighed like he'd just been asked to reveal state secrets. "We have albums."

Lewis blinked. "Albums?"

"Like, actual albums," Lando confirmed, already turning to swing open one of the white wardrobe doors near the window. A low shelf inside looked like it belonged in a fucking archive, thick leather-bound books, some with gold-edged pages, some with fabric covers in soft pastels or rich black velvet. Lando pulled two off the shelf and shut the cupboard again with his hip.

"They're organised?" Lewis asked, stunned.

Lily laughed. "Chronologically. And aesthetically."

Lando tossed the two albums on the bed with a soft thud, the thick pages inside shifting slightly as they landed. "She made me colour-code the first three years."

"Felt necessary," Lily shrugged, crawling across the bed until she was on her stomach, elbows planted, chin resting in her hands. "We've taken over two thousand Polaroids."

Lewis sat straighter, eyes going wide. "You're joking."

"Nope." Lando lay beside her, patting the space on his other side like he was summoning a dog. "Come on, might as well see the unfiltered chaos now."

Lewis hesitated, then kicked his shoes off and climbed onto the bed, all careful limbs and sharp angles, propped up on a pillow as Lily opened the first album.

And just like that, he was in.

The first page? A blurry photo of Lando and Lily sitting on a kitchen counter, champagne bottle between them, both laughing too hard to stay in frame.

The second? Lily in a tiny white tank top and lace underwear, flipping off the camera with lipgloss smeared over her mouth and glitter on her cheeks. Lando's arm around her waist, half of his face in frame.

Another one, the infamous coffee shop. She was sitting at his table, books everywhere, a coffee in hand, looking up at him with the most chaotic half-smile, like she was about to ruin his life on purpose.

"That's the first day," Lando said quietly.

Lewis didn't reply. He just kept flipping. There were photos of Lily asleep on Lando's chest. Lando shirtless on a balcony, hair a mess, Lily's leg thrown over his hip. Selfies taken in the mirror of hotel bathrooms, Lily in lingerie, Lando holding her waist like she was already his.

But it wasn't all sex or skin or lust. There were photos of their friends too.

Barbara on a yacht, sunglasses halfway down her nose. Gavi asleep on the floor with Lily curled next to him. Lila Moss kissing Lily's cheek while they flipped off the camera. Jude mid-laugh, arm around Lando's neck in a blurry nightclub.

And then? Then came the intimate ones. Not posed. Not curated.

Lily, in a hotel room, freshly out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel and Lando's racing hoodie, sitting on the floor with Jude, both of them eating fries, Lando's socked foot just visible in the corner of the frame.

Lando, half naked in bed, arm thrown over Lily's bare back, her hand holding the Polaroid camera above them, her grin lazy and satisfied. Jude's t-shirt crumpled in the background.

A photo of all three of them, Lando in a white tank top, Lily in a lace bodysuit, Jude shirtless again, sitting on a bathroom counter surrounded by hair tools and cigarettes. Lily's lipstick was smudged. Jude had Lily's heel on his lap. Lando's hand was on her throat, gentle, like a collar.

"What the fuck," Lewis whispered, more impressed than scandalised.

Lando just laughed.

"We're close," Lily said softly, flipping the page.

Another album, more moments. Lando backstage at one of her shows, hood up, arms crossed, a tiny smile watching her from the corner. A photo taken from above, Lily laying on top of him, both in swimwear, sunburnt and laughing. A blurry photo of Lily in tears on a hotel bed, Lando holding her face, a cupcake in his other hand.

"Birthday shoot day," Lily explained. "I cried. It was hell."

"You cried?" Lewis looked at her, stunned. "You?"

She nodded. "I cry all the time. Just not in public."

Lewis let out a low whistle. "I genuinely had no fucking clue this side of you existed."

Lily didn't say anything. She just flipped another page. Now the photos got more chaotic again.

Lily and Barbara pretending to kiss for the camera with champagne dripping down their chins. Jude holding up Lily's leg mid-concert like she was a trophy. Lando and Jude on either side of her in a hot tub, one hand each on her thighs. More backstage snaps, more candids, more moments that shouldn't exist on camera and yet did — proudly, vividly, unapologetically.

"Some of these..." Lewis shook his head. "Would be actual headlines."

"That's why they never leave the apartment," Lando muttered, reaching past Lily for a new album.

The leather on this one was cracked, soft with time. Inside? Polaroids from their early days.

Lily with no makeup. Lando with longer hair. Photos from London rooftops, late night Uber rides, fast food on the floor. Her curled into his lap in a hoodie that reached her knees. Him pressing a kiss to her cheek while she scrolled on her phone. A selfie of her asleep on his chest.

"You guys are actually just obsessed with each other," Lewis finally said.

Lando smirked. "Well. Yeah."

Lily leaned back, resting her head against Lando's chest. "We like to remember it all."

"It's insane, though," Lewis added. "That this has all been happening while the rest of us are sitting around thinking you're single and probably playing Minecraft with Max."

Lando laughed. "I do still play Minecraft with Max."

Lily snorted. "But not instead of fucking me, babe."

"Facts," Lando grinned.

Lewis shook his head again and reached for another album. "Alright. Show me more. Let me drown in the delusion."

Lily smiled. "Careful. You'll start wanting a secret girlfriend too."

"I already fucking do," Lewis muttered.

And just like that, three bodies stayed curled on a Monaco bed, knee-deep in memories the world would never see, laughing like they were seventeen, living like it was all just a fever dream with too many Polaroids to count.

Lily's phone buzzed on the side table. The soft trill of her alarm cut through the lazy quiet of the bedroom.

She sighed, rolled onto her knees, and pressed a soft kiss to Lando's cheek before climbing over him. Her shirt- his shirt- shifted up her thighs as she stood, and she stretched briefly before grabbing her phone.

"I've got a Zoom with Chanel," she said, voice still raspy. "It's just planning, shouldn't be more than half an hour."

"Need anything?" Lando asked, chin tilted toward her.

She smiled at him, then looked at Lewis and added, "Keep him in line, will you?"

Lewis smirked. "No promises."

She rolled her eyes affectionately, and padded out of the room barefoot, disappearing down the hall. As soon as the door clicked shut, Lewis let out a slow exhale and gestured at the chaos of photos still littered across the bed.

"These are insane," he muttered, flicking through one of the albums again. "I feel like I'm intruding on a cult."

Lando laughed and settled back against the pillows, eyes glinting with that same smug chaos he always got when he knew he was about to win a game no one else realised they were playing.

"Oh, mate," he said. "If you think these are the scandalous ones..."

He stood, wandered back toward the cabinet with a stretch of his back, pulled open the doors again, and this time reached for a black leather album—thicker, heavier, with no label on the spine. Just a crimson silk ribbon wrapped around it like a secret waiting to unravel.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "That's the sex album, isn't it?"

"No comment," Lando said, walking back over and tossing it onto the bed beside him. "But yes."

Lewis blinked. Then sat up straighter. Lando leaned over and opened the first page.

The first photo was a grainy mirror selfie, Lando shirtless, Lily in a strappy satin dress, smeared lipstick, her leg hitched up around his hip like she'd just been pressed against the wall. Jude's face was just visible in the mirror, grinning behind them, holding the camera.

Lewis muttered, "Jesus fucking Christ."

"You asked," Lando smirked.

They flicked through the pages, photo after photo, documenting chaos and affection and trust in its rawest, most unfiltered form. Some were classic party shots: Halloween, with Lily in black latex bunny ears, sitting on Pablo's lap while Gavi painted her nails. The infamous Christmas polaroid of her standing between Lando and Jude in floor-length black satin, both of them staring at her like she was dinner and they hadn't eaten in weeks.

Some were far more intimate. Lily curled on the floor, topless under Lando's hoodie, with Jude painting her toenails while smoking a joint. One of them shirtless in a kitchen, Lily stood on the counter in lingerie with one hand around Jude's neck and the other in Lando's hair.

Another with the caption, scribbled on the bottom: "I didn't kiss either of them after this. They both smelt like tequila."

Lewis blinked again. "Okay, so, I have to ask-"

Lando was already smirking. "About the boundaries?"

"Yeah. Like... what are they?"

Lando shrugged. "There are boundaries. They just don't look like most people's."

Lewis looked down at a polaroid of Lily, draped in a silk robe, curled between Jude and Lando on a hotel bed. All of them asleep. Or pretending to be. Her head on Lando's shoulder, her leg thrown over Jude's thigh.

"You're not jealous?"

"Never," Lando said. "They're my family."

"Even when he's got his hand on her ass?"

Lando laughed. "Especially then."

Lewis was silent for a second. "Okay. Explain this friend group to me."

Lando smiled, leaned back, arms folded behind his head. "Alright," he said. "You've got Lily at the centre. She's the sun. Everything spins around her. Jude? He's her anchor. The oldest one. Has known her longest. He's protective as hell but also chaotic. They used to date, yeah, but it wasn't real love. Just safety. He's like her big brother now, if big brothers helped you hide bodies and danced with you in your underwear."

Lewis huffed out a stunned laugh.

"Gavi?" Lewis asked.

"Troublemaker," Lando grinned. "But soft when it counts. Wrote Lily a four-page letter once when she was sick. Brought soup, left flowers. But he also dared Jude to take body shots off her in Ibiza."

Lewis raised his eyebrows.

"She let him," Lando said. "She laughed the whole time."

Lewis flipped another page and landed on the bunny costume Halloween photo. Lily in fishnets and a slip dress. Jude shirtless in cuffs. Pablo wearing a robe and sunglasses. The three of them posing like an absolute fever dream. "I don't get how you're all okay with this," he said.

"We built it this way," Lando said. "No jealousy. No lies. If something ever makes someone uncomfortable, they speak. And it stops."

Lewis looked thoughtful. "And it works?"

"It's sacred," Lando said, voice serious now. "It only works because we all trust each other more than anyone outside ever could. This group? It's safe. It's unconditional."

Lewis looked up from the album. "So when people think you're single..."

"They're only seeing what we let them," Lando said. "They think I'm the McLaren golden boy with no real ties. Meanwhile, I come home every night to her. To all of them."

He paused. "She's the love of my life, mate. I'd burn the world down to keep her safe. And they would too."

Lewis looked back down at the photo. Lily in a group of boys. All chaos. All heat. But hers. Every single one of them.

Another photo caught his eye, Lily in a white mini dress, straddling a barstool, Jude licking whipped cream off her thigh while Pablo poured champagne into her mouth, Lando behind her with a hand on her waist and a grin that could kill.

On the bottom was a scrawled note: "We're not doing shots again after this. (We did.)"

Lewis let out a low whistle. "You know... I used to think I had a pretty wild life."

Lando just smiled, leaning back again with his hands folded behind his head. "You do. But ours has better photos."

Lewis was still flipping carefully through the chaos like it might explode in his hands, tracing his fingers over the glossy plastic pockets and blurred ink captions. He was stuck somewhere between fascination, admiration, and a very real existential crisis. A soft "what the fuck" every few pages. He'd stopped pretending this was normal about ten minutes ago.

Lando, meanwhile, looked like he was having the time of his life.

They were laid out on the bed like teenagers at a sleepover, but instead of horror movies and snacks, it was candid porn-adjacent Polaroids and friendship dynamics that bordered on spiritual.

"Okay," Lewis muttered, tilting one album toward him. "So this one, this is from Ibiza, right?"

"Mhm," Lando confirmed, his voice casual. Too casual.

"This looks like... Lily's wearing Jude's chain?"

"She is," Lando nodded. "He gave it to her that night because she broke her heel and he said it was her 'war medal'."

Lewis just blinked. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"She fell down a flight of stairs and landed in the splits," Lando offered.

"...Was she okay?"

"She won a tequila shot contest twenty minutes later. So yeah."

Lewis snorted. He flipped again. This one stopped him. It was Lily, topless but back to the camera, Jude's arms around her waist and Lando's hand up her thigh. Both men shirtless, flushed. Lily's head thrown back, laughing, a cigarette in one hand and her phone in the other, like someone had just made a joke mid-threesome and she absolutely needed to text it to Gavi.

"Jesus," Lewis breathed.

Lando's smirk stretched slowly across his face. And then, without warning, he reached over and flipped to the very back of the album.

Lewis's mouth opened slightly. "We're going deeper?"

"Oh, you're not even at the feral part yet," Lando muttered.

He turned the last few pages slowly, like he was opening a vault. And there it was. A full-blown descent into madness.

One photo: Lily bent over a couch in a leather minidress, both Jude and Lando behind her, shirtless, smiling like devils, Lando flipping off the camera.

Another: The three of them in a shower, Jude holding a champagne bottle, water running down their bodies, Lily's lipstick smudged across both men's chests like battle scars.

One more: Lily sprawled on a hotel bed in nothing but lingerie and one of Jude's necklaces, Lando half out of frame, Jude kissing her knee. The caption? "He said she tasted like strawberries. He was right."

Lewis stared. His face blank. His mouth slightly open.

"Mate," he said after a second.

Lando turned his head lazily, smirk still sitting there like a weapon. "Yeah?"

"Are you telling me you had a threesome with your girlfriend and her ex-boyfriend?"

Lando leaned back on his elbows and shrugged. "Couple times."

"Couple-" Lewis had to sit up straighter. "You say that like you're telling me you've had pasta a few times this month."

"I mean... same vibe," Lando replied, utterly deadpan.

Lewis looked like his brain was short-circuiting. "You're really okay with that?"

"More than okay," Lando said, flipping the page again to show yet another photo, this one in black and white, all three of them asleep in a pile of limbs on a bed that had clearly seen war. "It wasn't about the sex."

Lewis arched a brow. "No?"

"It was about trust," Lando said. "And love. And safety."

There was no hesitation in his voice. No shame. No weird undertone of possessiveness. Just calm. Certain. "They're part of each other," he continued. "Jude's a part of Lily's soul the same way I am. It doesn't lessen anything. It deepens it."

Lewis stared again. "How the fuck are you so emotionally evolved?"

Lando laughed. "Because when you're with someone like her, you have to be." He tapped the photo gently with one finger. "This?" he said. "This only works because there's not a single thing unsaid between any of us."

Lewis rubbed a hand down his face, half-exasperated, half-in awe. "You're all either completely insane or on another level of consciousness."

"Both," Lando said cheerfully.

Lewis looked back at the album. At the blurred memories, the fingerprints on the film, the chaos in every frame. And then up at Lando again.

"How the fuck do you keep it all so quiet?"

Lando smiled, that same soft little secret smile he always gave when talking about Lily.

"Because it's not a secret to us," he said. "Just the rest of the world."

Lewis closed the scandal album slowly, like he needed to physically put the madness away to keep it from consuming him. The last few Polaroids he'd seen were now seared into his frontal cortex, images of Lily, Lando, and Jude tangled in enough intimacy to short-circuit a Vatican priest. He pressed his palm flat to the cover and exhaled through his nose like he'd just run ten laps.

He stood. "Alright," he said, smoothing his linen shirt and glancing at the clock. "I need to head back. Gotta feed Roscoe."

Lando smirked, still half-sprawled on the bed. "You're leaving before the night gets good?"

Lewis shook his head. "No. I'm leaving before I start believing this is normal."

"Fair." Lando grabbed his phone off the side table and opened the Uber app. "I'll book you a car. It'll pick you up out front."

Lewis bent down, slipping his shoes back on, still glancing once in a while at the closed album like it might re-open itself and whisper sins into his ear. "Mate, those albums are like some kind of chaos bible."

Lando stood too, stretching as his back cracked. "Volume One of the Holy Fucking Trinity."

Lewis groaned. "Do not call it that."

Lando just winked. The Uber confirmation pinged. Lando checked it and nodded toward the hallway. "Come on. We'll wait in the living room. I'll let Lils know you're going."

They walked together, bare feet against marble, sunlight still soaking through the high-rise windows, the penthouse humming with the faint scent of candles, coffee, and whatever expensive moisturiser Lily had used that morning.

At the far end of the apartment, Lily's home office door was mostly closed. Lando padded over and gave it two light knocks before nudging it open without waiting for a reply.

Inside, Lily sat in an impossibly chic white leather chair, her MacBook angled just so, glasses perched on her nose, and her hair twisted up into a claw clip. She was still in Lando's shirt, one bare thigh crossed over the other. On her screen was a muted Zoom gallery of Chanel's most important names—PR directors, stylists, someone who looked suspiciously like Virginie Viard herself.

Lily glanced up the second the door creaked. Her eyes softened immediately. "Lan?"

"Lew's heading out," Lando said, leaning against the doorframe. "Wanted to say bye."

Lily smiled and lifted one hand toward the screen. "One second," she said into her AirPods. Then muted herself, stood up, and padded barefoot over to the door without hesitation.

Lewis blinked. "You... muted Chanel?"

Lily just shrugged and pulled him into a warm, two-armed hug, one that smelled like vanilla and cherry ice vape. "Thank you for coming. You're welcome here anytime."

Lewis hugged her back, still stunned. "Even after seeing your entire NSFW archives?"

She pulled back with a grin. "You're vetted now."

Lando chuckled from the side. "Inducted into the inner circle."

Lily kissed Lando's cheek softly, whispering, "I'll be another ten minutes," and then slipped back into her chair like nothing had happened.

Lando eased the door shut again, and they walked back through the apartment in companionable silence.

In the living room, Lewis grabbed his sunglasses from the side table and turned to face Lando, lips still curled in the smallest, most bemused smile.

"She paused Chanel for me."

Lando nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. "That's just Lily."

"No, like..." Lewis looked toward the hallway. "I don't think you get how insane that is."

"Oh, I get it."

"She's talking to actual royalty over there, and she still made sure to hug me goodbye."

Lando shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "She's loyal. Always has been."

Lewis stood there for a second, still trying to find the words. Still thinking about the albums. The chaos. The calm. The love. He looked at Lando, shook his head slowly, and said, "You're the luckiest bastard I've ever met."

Lando just grinned.

The Uber pulled up outside. Lando gave him a mock salute. "Tell Roscoe I said hi."

Lewis opened the door. "Tell Jude he owes me context."

Then he was gone, the soft Monaco evening swallowing him whole, and Lando stood in the silence for a second before heading back to the bedroom to put the albums away.

Because Lily would be off that call soon.

And the real chaos? Was always better live.

[crowfish-brainrot]

Mistakes Were Made Part 4

Adrenaline can make people lusty, and that's what inspired this fic. Also, if I was MC, my sexy self would be fuckin' all five of these men until I got into a relationship bc I am weak and they are too hot to not. Soooo, this might get kinda messy, but it'll end in a good (poly?) place.

CONTENT NOTES FOR ALL PARTS: 18+ MDNI. LaDs men x MC (you), Casual Sex, Pre-relationship, Complicated Feelings All Around. Smut & Angst. Smut with Feelings. No use of Y/N. Possibly ooc bc I'm still getting back into fanfic. Oral f&m receiving, p in v, unprotected sex bc its fiction, creampies, softdom!Xavier, brattamer!Zayne, brattyswitch!Rafayel, switch!Sylus, dom!Caleb brattyswitch!MC, but it's all fluid imo. light bond*ge, sp*nking, size difference, overstimulation, improper use of evol, semi-public sex. Nicknames used in all parts: canon nicknames as well as bunny, princess, love, & darling. F reader. MC is described as being curvy and strong with some fuller titties bc I love titties. Possibly MMF if I get to a part 6 Unedited. You get this raw (just like our Lads!)

Xavier | Zayne | Rafayel | Sylus (this part) | Caleb

Every fucking time you went anywhere with Sylus, danger followed close behind. It was by a miracle of the gods themselves you hadn't sat on Sylus' cock yet. It helped that you could make an excuse about needing to return to Linkon abruptly. Your mission partner got a call about some wanderers, you have to go give him back up. You had a doctor's appointment in a few hours you couldn't miss, or your secondary employer needed your protection for an event. Sylus never questioned you out loud, as long as you promised to return to the N109 Zone.

This time, however, you went on a trip with him halfway across the world to chase down a lead tied to Ever, so none of your flimsy excuses couldn't help you now. After a fight like that, you desperately needed some excuse to leave before you added yet another too-handsome-for-his-own-good man to your roster.

The fight was brutal. You were pitifully outnumbered, but you and Sylus fought alongside one another like you'd done so your entire lives. In perfect sync, you rarely had to speak before you two resonated and caused a swirling storm of energy. You both made it out of the fight, neither too injured. The blood covering him wasn't his, and he looked every bit the intimidating leader of Onychinus that he was. Instead of being terrified at the sight like you should've been, you found him downright enchanting. Covered in the blood of your enemies and sweat-slicked from battle, he never looked better.

"Everything alright, kitten?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said, your voice too high to be normal. "I'm just checking for injuries. Are you sure you didn't get hit?"

"Worried?"

"Maybe."

He chuckled. "I'll let you thoroughly investigate once we get back to the safe house."

Your heart thrummed under your breasts at the sound of his rich laughter, and you could already tell you were doomed.

The ride back to the safe house didn't help your situation. The motorcycle purred beneath you and your arms wrapped tightly around Sylus' bulky body. He was so strong, so stable, that your head spun. The vibration of the bike and the heady leather and spice scent of him, now tinged with the copper tang of blood, all sent more need curling low in your belly.

You arrived at the safe house, a large manor house hidden somewhere in the woods far beyond the city lights and a long way down a dirt road. Sylus left you on the bike as he quickly checked to verify that the location hadn't been compromised in the time it took for you to complete your mission. He gave you the all clear, and on trembling legs, you stumbled off the bike.

A long tether of black-red mist wrapped around your waist to stabilize you. The now-familiar feel of his Evol was a welcome one. Slightly warm, it buzzed against your skin with raw power. You hummed softly as your mind wondered if there were other ways he could use this power of his. If it was tangible enough to touch you, what would it feel like inside you? Nope. Stop it! Your thoughts would get you in trouble, especially around him. You avoided eye-contact with him after battles for a reason.

You looked up to see Sylus' smirking face and the flush on your cheeks creeped all the way back to your ears. Damn it. You pushed past him and hurried inside, trying to put as much distance between you as you could. You brought a small vibrator with you, you did know yourself after all. It was a quiet thing, and even his safe houses were massive. You picked the bedroom farthest from his to give yourself some privacy. Hopefully it was enough.

"Running away so soon, sweetie? I thought you were worried about me." Sylus appeared in the archway between the kitchen and the stairs. He leaned against the frame and raised a silver brow at you.

"We're both covered in blood. Hard to see if you're wounded if we're both a mess," you said. It was a lame excuse Sylus saw right through. Lying to him was pointless, but he always smiled when you did. Like it entertained him when you tried to slip past with unspoken truths.

Sylus stood up straight and slowly undid the buttons on his blood-stained shirt. Your eyes followed his deft fingers as he slowly exposed the open expanse of his chest. Your throat closed, but you couldn't look away. Buttons undone, he shrugged the shirt off. It fell to the floor in a whisper, and he smirked down at you.

"Does this help, kitten?" he asked, his voice low and full of challenge.

Dear fucking gods, this man was so hot it bordered on unholy. His voice, the sharp lines of his face, his hair, and every line of his muscles all could've once been marble. Gorgeous didn't seem like a strong enough word to describe him, and he knew it, too.

He let you drink him in, and you made sure to keep your eyes off his face. If you snuck a single look, he'd know the hunger pooling low in your belly. You never desired Sylus. You hungered for him. Wanted to consume him, and be consumed by him.

Xavier wrapped you in safety, protected you. Zayne took care of you and stabilized you with his presence. Rafayel spoke to your heart and brought you to new depths. If you crossed into something sexual with Sylus? You'd consume one another whole. He spoke to your very essence. Being so close to him, the heat of battle still boiling in your blood, with his bare chest on display? It bordered on torture.

You swallowed. "Let me take a look."

Evol-suppressing bullets didn't last long, but you didn't want to risk Sylus' health. The mere thought of him bleeding made you dizzy for a reason you couldn't explain, so you didn't think about it too much as you checked him over. A bullet grazed his ribs, and your Evol recoiled at the strange energy emanating from it. The wound wasn't deep. His Evol could fix it in a second without much fuss, once the suppressant effects ebbed. Still, the sight of red blood dripping down his pale skin?

Your mind filled with the memory of blood -- his blood?-- staining your palms. You breathed through it, and turned back into the kitchen, digging under the sink for the first aid kit. He kept one under every sink, and in every bedroom, in all of his safehouses. First aid kits didn't usually come so well stocked with so many extras within, but he was a criminal, and it wasn't like he was going to call for help.

You dragged him by his wrist and plopped him down on a bar stool so you could clean him up. Sylus said nothing, but his eyes never left you as he obediently sat down. You cleaned the wound and placed a large bandage over it to cover it until his Evol could address it.

"Anywhere else?" you asked, as you ran your hands down his arms, to his fists. They often got bloody after fights, he did prefer them as his usual weapons -- despite owning multiple armories-- and usually they healed instantly. Still, you checked him over to be sure.

"I'm fine. I didn't realize I'd been hit at all until you rubbed alcohol over the wound," he said, taking your hands in his. "Are you okay? You haven't looked me in the eye since we got here."

"I'm fine," you said. It sounded like a lie to your ears, so you knew he didn't believe you either. "I don't like seeing you hurt, is all. I know it happens, but..."

You looked down at your threaded fingers. You touched Sylus often. Always casual. A brush of shoulders, grabbing his hand, the brush of your knees when you sat next to one another. Wrapping your body around his when you rode on his bike. It felt natural to reach for him, and it seemed he thought the same thing. Since you started reaching for his hand outside of battles, his found yours, too. Never more than you could take, and never anything but respectful. Just warmth and steadiness that comforted something deep within you.

"It will take far more than some simple bullets to hurt me, kitten." His voice was soft, gentle in the tone he only ever used on you. He drove you insane sometimes, but some new level of trust took root between you. Then, his voice took on a different tone, one more playful. "Though, I didn't realize you cared so much about my well-being."

"Shut up or you'll ruin it," you said.

He chuckled softly. The sound rich and warm, it filled the space between you both. You needed to get to your room, shower, come, and maybe figure out what type of food he stored here. If you stayed this close to him the heat of his body and his shirtless chest would do you in faster than you could talk yourself out of.

"Well, you're fine. So I'm going to go clean up," you said, too fast to be casual. "Let me know if we get attacked!"

"Look at me," he said. Not harsh, but it was a command all the same. One you couldn't ignore.

You drew your eyes up to his face, focusing on his nose so you wouldn't accidentally meet his eyes. Your heart fluttered the way it always did around him. Too loud, too fast. His fingers rested under your chin, but he didn't pull your face up further. Not yet.

"After every fight, you're always in such a hurry to leave. I thought by getting out of Linkon you'd settle after a fight, or at least tell me what gets you so jumpy." Sylus' thumb rubbed over your chin, and his ruby gaze dropped to your mouth. "I have my ideas, of course, but I want to hear from you. Why do you always run away from me, sweetie?"

Your pussy throbbed at the low, rich tone of his voice, how it burned with information he held back. He let you squirm for long enough, waited so patiently, and your half-truths and scattered lies wouldn't be enough to save you this time. His free arm reached past you and rested on the counter, pinning you in place. You could escape if you tried, probably. But, did you want to?

No. No, you didn't want to escape at all. His proximity and warmth silenced the voice in the back of your head that screamed "do not fuck the actual fucking boss of Onychinus!" You'd thought about it. Oh great fucking gods had you thought about it. Since you met him, really. Those thoughts you had about him, from tantalizing to downright fucking filthy filled your mind, and warmth pooled in your lower stomach.

"I get...needy after battles," you quickly said. "Really any time something gets my adrenaline spiking. I need to work it out, somehow. Otherwise I can't calm down. I make a quick exit so I can blow off some steam."

"And these other men you mention, your hunter partner, your doctor, and your employer, they help you calm down?"

Oh fuck. He knew?

"I never said they were men..." you whispered.

"You didn't need to," he said, his voice soft. "Do you think I'd leave you unprotected as you left my territory? You keep interesting company, kitten."

Fuck.

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, well..."

Your cheeks flushed and you struggled to find the words. What could you say to that? Sylus sent Mephisto to your apartment a few times a week, relaying intel or inviting you out. Had he caught you in your apartment with Xavier? Seen you out with Rafayel, or stumbling into Zayne's place?

"I'm not judging you," he laughed. "Call it...curiosity. I know you desire me. I sense it. Feel it. When the Evol linkage put us in that hotel closet, I felt your emotions. Your fear, your desire. I thought you'd ask me to stay after that. But your hunter partner was waiting for you at the event, wasn't he?"

You swallowed around the thick lump in your throat. "What about it?"

Xavier was waiting for you at the event. He asked you five times why you were late, and you told him that your coat was in the closet, and it was stuck shut. You had to ask hotel maintenance to fix it. He didn't seem like he believed you, but Lois corroborated your lie and all was well. You spent the night in his room as you tried--and failed--to not think about Sylus. That was months ago, and now you were here.

"I told you, curiosity." Sylus' hand dropped from the counter and settled on your waist. His other hand tilted your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his. "How many times have I told you to use me? Why not ask me to help you with your problem, sweetie?"

You couldn't look away from his carnelian eyes. There was no malice there, no look of burning jealousy. He asked like he wanted to genuinely know, and fuck, if you hadn't asked yourself the same question.

"First, I didn't know if you wanted me to use you like that."

"That's cute. Here I thought I was being obvious."

Your cheeks burned, but you continued. "Second, or relationship is already complicated. Given our jobs, and the fact that you are literally the most wanted man by the Association, crossing that line didn't seem wise."

"Yes, because the Association will be very understanding with you if we're found out. As long as we haven't had sex, it'll all be fine, won't it?" Sylus grinned as he poked holes in your logic, and damn it, he was right. Of course he was.

"Our relationship is still complicated" you said, continuing on. "Our connection, how our Evols keep linking up, how I go between finding you charming and thinking you're the biggest pain in my ass. That makes this complicated, too."

"Is it? I thought that added a bit of fun." His eyes flickered from yours, to your lips, then back up again. Mirth danced in his eyes, like he loved watching you squirm like this. He probably did. You didn't hate it either. Something about finally confessing this under his heated gaze sent your core to burning temperatures.

"Third, I already have people who can help me out. One of them is almost always available, and I already set expectations with them. Having sex with you would make me feel, I don't know, greedy, I guess?"

"Have I ever judged you for being greedy, or told you that you should want less?" Sylus' tone suddenly went serious, stern.

"No," you said. "But other people have."

"Other people don't matter, and if the people who do matter to you judge, let me handle them." He dropped your face and took both your hands in his. "Our connection is one of souls. Your desires are mine, and mine often reflect yours. The only people who will judge you for being greedy are the ones who fear they won't have enough, which isn't your problem. It's theirs."

"I thought you'd be mad if we had casual sex and found out about the others," you said, your voice soft.

"The idea didn't thrill me at first. I sulked in my office for a few days, but I discovered the feeling wasn't anger. It was jealousy. Not jealousy that other people got to feel you, but jealousy that I hadn't." Sylus shook his head and brought his gaze down to your connected palms. "It's your body. It's your life. You'll never face any judgement from me, but we both know if we have sex, it's not going to be casual. Nothing about us is."

He was right. Nothing about you and Sylus could be defined as "casual". From the first moment you met him, something seethed under your skin in desire to consume him. To take him. To feel him. He saw you to your essence. He infuriated and intoxicated you. Nothing with him would ever be casual.

Not that you succeeded in being casual with Xavier, Zayne, or Rafayel, either. Zayne was the best at it, but even those lines blurred when you spent the night at his place and you brought him lunch on the days you had the time. Xavier's intensity only got more prominent, diving in front of wanderers or into danger to keep you from getting hurt. Sometimes he asked you to care for him when he was sick, and you did. Rafayel became needier. Clingier. Texting you both goodnight and good morning, telling you he missed you, often with suggestive photos attached. You tried to keep it casual, but maybe it was pointless all around.

"Our relationship is predestined," Sylus said, calling your attention back to his face. "Unless you command me to leave, I'm here. We're both busy, however, should you want me, you can have me. In any way you need."

Gods, who knew an adult conversation like this could turn you on instead of make you want to run for the fucking hills? He made it seem so simple. Easy. Like you could have this, have all of them, and it would be okay. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't have feelings for the men closest to you. Some more complicated than others, but the feelings existed all the same.

You stepped between his legs and wrapped your arms around his neck. He returned the embrace with a sigh pressed into your hair. Tension melted out of your muscles and he held you. Warm, safe, and steady.

"I want you, Sylus," you murmured into his neck. "Even if it makes me greedy."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear so he could cup your face in his hands. "My love, I will show you what it means to be greedy."

His lips slotted over yours and suddenly you were lost. His lips were soft and decadent, and his kiss mirrored the hunger in yours. He stood, and your legs wrapped around his waist. Your hands tangled in his hair, and you lost yourself to the heat and presence of Sylus.

He pulled away only when he set you down. Bleary-eyed from the pleasure-soaked kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were in the bathroom. Sylus turned on the water in the massive shower, and hot water rained down from above.

"We're both bloody, and I didn't get to check you over for injuries. Trust me to take care of you, hmm?"

Your pussy pulsed in time with your racing heart. "Yes, sir."

His eyes darkened at your words, and he slowly unbuckled your gear. Careful fingers lifted your shirt up off your body, and his knuckles grazed over your ribs. You swallowed hard, but you didn't stop him, entranced by the way he handled you. Careful, but certain. Your top fluttered to the floor, but you didn't bother looking where. He made quick work of your bra, unclasping it with one hand. His gaze devoured your tits as they bounced free.

Now at the same level of undress that he was, you made quick work of his belt. Your eyes never left his face. It was impossible to look away from him and his reaction to you. Seeing a man as stern and serious as Sylus with an expression so needy it bordered on pain sent your stomach into flips. You unbuttoned his pants and shoved the material down. You brought your attention down his massive body, to the tent in his boxers.

Gods, you always imagined he'd have a massive cock, but even without getting up close? It seemed like he was even bigger than Zayne. Your knees trembled as you took a step closer and pulled the waistband down. His cock sprang free, rock hard and throbbing. You clenched around air. That might've been the biggest cock you'd ever seen in your life, and you wondered how you were going to take such a fucking monster.

Sylus took your momentary stunned expression in, and made quick work of your pants, pulling them down and off your hips. Your panties were soaked through, and he hummed as he ran a finger between your thighs. The soaked fabric clung to you, and you whimpered when his finger traced over your clit. He slipped them down over your thighs, then steadied you as you stepped out of your clothes.

He led you into the shower and the hot water washed over your body. Perfectly scalding, you hummed a contented noise as you settled under the spray. Sylus came in a moment behind you. "May I wash you off, love?"

"Yes please," you hummed.

He immediately got to work. He started off by washing your hair, his talented fingers gently working in the shampoo and scrubbing off the blood and grime from the fight. You melted in his hands, turned into mush by the way he touched you.

He worked the conditioner in with the same level of care as he shampooed your hair with, then he started the slow process of washing your body. His fingers worked the muscles in your shoulders, and your arms, and you hummed softly.

"Do I get to wash you after?" you asked, your voice teasing.

"If you'd like," he said. "I'm yours to play with, kitten."

You giggled and leaned into his touch. His hands went lower, over your breasts, and he took them in his grip. He squeezed them in his large palms and groaned at the weight of them. Your nipples hardened under the stimulation, and he rolled them in between his fingers. You moaned, and Sylus cursed.

"Fuck yes, love," he praised. "That sound is better than I imagined."

"Sylus!" you cried when he rolled your nipples between his fingers a second time.

"I told you, I'll show you what it means to be greedy." He pulled you back against him as he kneaded your tits in his large hands. "You should know by now I never say something I don't mean."

Goosebumps rose all across your body and you whined, high and desperate as he continued to play with your nipples. His cock throbbed at your back. He was so much taller than you, you wondered if you could even take his cock standing up without your feet leaving the ground. He continued washing you, moving on from your tits, down your sides, your stomach your thighs, until he was kneeling on the shower floor. There, he washed your calves and feet, scrubbing every inch of you clean.

In the same way you took baths with Rafayel after a night at his place, there was a sense of devotion in Sylus' actions. You were a fool to believe that any of the men in your life could be casual, not when everything they all did for you spoke of quiet devotion that bordered on reverence. Even now, Sylus did nothing but tend to you with pure tenderness and devotion in his beautiful red eyes.

Freshly clean, the body wash smelled something like cherries and the scent filled the room. Sylus pressed a kiss to your stomach, and then his hand went between your thighs. You were so wet he effortlessly slipped one finger inside you.

"Look at you, so wet for me," he said, his voice husky and deep. "You won't run away from me again, will you kitten?"

"No, sir," you panted. "I won't run from you again."

"Good girl," he cooed. "Let me take care of you."

You moaned as your hands slipped into his white hair, clutching tight as a second finger slipped inside you. His long fingers curled forward as his thumb rolled over your clit and your knees trembled. His free hand steadied you as he continued the slow, deep fucking of his fingers.

"You're so tight, sweetie. You won't be able to take my cock like this."

"I want to! I want your cock so fucking bad!"

He chuckled into your skin, the sound rich and warm. "I know you do. You just need to open up for me a little more. I don't want to hurt you."

He pushed you back toward the shower wall and lifted your legs over his shoulders. Black-red mist wrapped around your waist and pinned you against the wall. He settled between your thighs and smiled up at you, the glint in his eye similar to the he gave you when he nipped your palm after you held his chin. His fingers applied more pressure, and he hummed.

"I'm starving. Can I taste you?"

The way he looked at you, this massive, powerful man on his knees? That did you in. You'd give him anything he asked for in that moment. You understood his hunger. It mirrored in yours for him. Your fingers threaded through his hair and you pulled him closer to your weeping cunt. "Please."

Sylus groaned as he dove into your pretty pussy. His tongue lapped from your entrance to your clit, then back again. His scarlet eyes rolled in the back of his head. His lips found your clit and he sucked in perfect time with the pressure he applied to your sweet spot.

You clutched onto his hair for dear life as he ate you out like he truly was starving and you were his sustenance. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he growled into your skin. The vibrations rolled through you, and the pleasure building low in your stomach went taut.

He pulled his lips away from your clit for only a moment. "Come for me, love. As many times as you want. Be. Greedy."

Sylus punctuated his words with deep thrusts of his fingers inside you, and your thighs trembled. His lips suctioned back around your clit, and you were lost. You came with a sharp cry of his name on your lips, your back bowing off the wall. His evol held you steady, keeping you in place as he continued devouring you.

Slick with release, he slipped a third thick finger inside you and your vision went white. Blinding. Too bright with pleasure and sensation as he stretched you out.

"Good girl. You're taking my fingers so well," he praised. "Just a little more, kitten."

"Sylus!" you whined, grinding your hips into the thrusts of his fingers. The stretch burned. His fingers were enormous, like the rest of him. You'd taken plenty of thick cock in recent months, but this? This bordered on too much.

"You can take it. I know you can," he said. "Breathe, sweetie. I've got you."

You made some sort of whine of protest, words too hard to formulate. How you could stretch more than this, how you could take more than what he already gave you, you had no idea. You already felt split open, and you hadn't taken his cock. Yet.

His mouth went back to work, slowly bringing you to another peak. While hungry, he didn't rush you. He savored you. Sucked your clit and drank you in like you were the finest wine he'd ever tasted, the most delicious meal he'd ever had. He devoured you with patience, letting you ride the waves of pleasure closer and closer to your second release.

Hot water rained down from above, and your eyes fell closed as you lost yourself to the slow build of pleasure he pulled from you. Each curl of his fingers and suck on your clit pulled more wetness from you, which made the stretch more manageable.

You gushed around his fingers as you came a second time, and Sylus growled. The sound low and rich as he drank you in again, working you through your release with the steady thrusts of his fingers. When you came down, he slowly pulled out of you and brought his fingers to his mouth. He licked each one clean, and your come-drunk mind could only manage to moan.

"You taste divine. I'd stay here on my knees all night if you'd let me." Sylus planted a kiss on either thigh and steadied you on your feet as his evol slowly released you. You clutched onto him until your wobbly legs stabilized. His cock throbbed against your stomach and your head spun when you took in the sheer size of him again.

"I might let you one of these days," you said. "Right now, I need a break. Get down here."

He handed you the shampoo and leaned down, waiting for you to wash him as you requested. With a soft, lust-drunk giggle, you began the same slow process he started on you. He purred like a cat when you washed his hair, and when your hands traced down his taut muscles. His breathing went shallow when you sank to your knees to continue washing his body. His cock was right at face level, and he hissed when your soapy hands gripped his hard, hot length. You tested the weight of him in your palms and shuddered. Sylus ran warmer than most, and his cock was almost scalding as you stroked him. The harder he got, the hotter his cock became.

"Sweetie," Sylus rasped. "Unless you want me to come all over your pretty face, I suggest stopping."

You pouted slightly, but you stopped your strokes on his massive shaft. He helped you stand, and you both rinsed off the soap that still clung to your skin. He turned off the water and wrapped you up in a towel, then himself. He took his time drying your hair, before he turned his attention to himself. The moment he deemed you both dry enough, he lifted you into his arms and carried you into the bedroom.

Your lips met in a heated kiss as your back hit the silken sheets. His massive body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin near scalding. His mouth trailed down your jaw, to your neck, and you whimpered when he sucked on the sensitive skin. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close as you rolled your hips up to meet his.

"Sylus, please. I need you inside me. Now. Please," you whined.

"Are you certain you're ready for my cock, kitten?" Sylus leaned back just enough to reach between your bodies. He slipped his massive length between your lower lips and slapped the thick head against your clit.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your back arched off the bed. "Yes! I'm ready, give it to me, please!"

He kissed you once. "If that's what you desire, I'll give you everything."

Sylus notched the head of his cock at your entrance, then slid in slowly. You both hissed at the massive stretch. Despite how wet you were and the aid of his fingers, the stretch still burned slightly, but you welcomed it, welcomed him, as he slowly sank inside you. Inch by glorious inch, he stretched you out. Slow and steady. You clutched his arms to ground yourself, and breathed with him as you encouraged your body to relax around his massive size.

He was so hot, his cock almost burned as he stretched you out. The heat eased the stretch some, but you already burned with desire. Feeling his, hot and throbbing as he stretched you out melted your mind from the inside out.

It took several minutes of slow, steady pressure but finally, you took his cock in to the base. Every inch of him was buried inside you. You were beyond full, stuffed was more accurate. It felt like he was in your lungs. There was no room for anything but him. No thoughts, no worries, only the pleasure and sensations he gave you. You moaned his name, high and breathless as he held himself there.

"Can I move?" he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

"Please."

That was all it took. His hips rocked back, and the drag of his cock along your walls made you cry out his name. He groaned above you as his hips rolled forward, stretching you out all over again. Working you open wider with every powerful thrust of his hips. Your nails dug into his forearms, clutching to him to ground yourself so the pleasure wouldn't make you float away entirely.

"Look how well you take me, sweetie. What a good girl you are, taking every inch of my cock," he praised, his voice like velvet in your ears.

"You feel so good, Sy!" You whimpered after a particularly hard thrust, his cock hitting against your cervix with enough pressure that your lungs seized. "Fuck, you're so deep. Feels so good!"

Sylus cursed under his breath as he picked up the speed. He sat back on his knees and wrapped his hands around your waist. He was so massive that his long fingers nearly met across your middle. Your shoulders rested flat on the mattress below as he lifted your hips. The new angle allowed the head of his cock to hit your sweet spot every time he thrust in.

He held you in place while he pounded into your depths. Each thrust shook through your body, the clap of skin on skin loud in the room. Your high-pitched cries, needy and broken melded with his low, panted groans. You clenched around him as your peak came ever-closer.

"Where do you want my come, kitten?" Sylus asked. "I feel your desire, but I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want."

You'd been tested, and your birth control held up so far. Sylus wanted you to be greedy, told you to take what you wanted. Right now, all you wanted was the feel of his come deep inside you.

"Inside me, please. Please come inside me, Sylus!"

"Good girl, telling me exactly what you want." Sylus thrust in deep, punctuating his next words with firm rolls of his hips. "I'll. Give. You. Everything. You. Ask. For."

His pace picked up again, his massive cock punching the air out of your lungs with every stroke. One hand left your waist to settle over your hip, and his thumb rubbed circles over your clit. Tension coiled low in your stomach, and your whines pitched higher. He thrust in deep, and your back bowed off the bed as white-hot pleasure seared through your body.

"Sylus!" you screamed as you came all over his cock.

Sylus' large hand found yours and he threaded your fingers together. He came a moment behind you, squeezing your hand as he pumped his come inside you. "All this come is yours, kitten. Take every. Last. Drop."

You clutched him with your thighs, keeping his cock buried deep. Hot, thick come filled you, and every throb of his cock shook through your stretched pussy. He lifted you into his arms, letting you settle over his lap, and he kissed you. You returned the lazy, satisfied kiss, getting lost in the heat of his touch and taste of his lips.

He pulled away just far enough to let you catch your breath. He stroked your cheek and rested his forehead against yours. "Are you too sensitive to take anymore, or can come for me one more time?"

You giggled softly. Your body buzzed, and your brain was fucked-out. Hazy with lust and lingering pleasure. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, then moved lower down his neck. "I can take one more, if you can give me one."

"If I had my way, I would keep you coming for me long past sunrise."

"Let's see if you can tire me out before the sun comes up."

"I'll rise to the challenge." Sylus bounced you up and down his rapidly-hardening cock, and all you could do was clutch onto him. "I'll show you just how greedy I can be, especially when it comes to you."

A/N: I didn't expect this part to go this way, but honestly? I love this. Sylus, the man you are. 😌 Our dragon is tied for #1 with Rafayel for me, so obviously I love him & had so much fun with this part! I want to do one of these with each LI before we start getting into overlap territory, and if we get there or not really depends on how much y'all want that. So, lmk! Either way, the next part of this series is going to be all about our favorite Pilot. Caleb is the LI I'm least familiar with, but my sister is a Certified Caleb Girlie so she helped me with his part. I'm so excited for you to read it next!

Masterlist | Next Part

[wordy-little-witch]

Soooooo..... I've seen some stuff floating around about some of Moon's old behaviors/mannerisms creeping back, and I DO AGREE

However!

I have two ideas regarding it.

1) a natural touch point on mental health stuff - people can and do backslide. It happens. It's even a normal thing, especially when you're in stressful situations, new unknown territory, or for whatever reason in a position where you naturally fall back on ingrained habits - good or bad.

Moon may well be backsliding due to many factors, and I think it would be a good source of discussion on mental health stuff if that were addressed or touched upon. It can reaffirm boundaries, reassess needs/desires, and even touch on what can be done/changed moving forward to account for such things

And, as a fanfic writer and a lover of angst, that leads me to:

2) Moon is falling into bad habits, and eventually he may slip further. This can go one of a few ways that I think would be meaningful.

• this new dimension knows NOTHING about everyone's pasts. As a result, how do you think the other animatronics would react to witnessing Moon lose his temper on Sun, the one they are arguably closest to/most familiar with due to proximity? And as a shipper, how would NovaFrost react to learning about this, if they had a slowly growing crush? Oh ho ho~ I'm so normal, don't ask about my ideas-

• TERRA 👏 AND 👏 SUN 👏 CONTENT 👏 ((Bonus points for everyone being SHOCKED by what Moon used to actually, genuinely be like - and then addressing consequences, accountability, and ACTUAL FREAKING THERAPY MAYBE)) ((((Additional points that touch on Cosmos having KNOWN this, having KNOWN of the parallels between his relationship with Eclipse and Sun with Moon, and STILL NOT ADDRESSING IT bc honestly? Yeah I have OPINIONS on that))))

• Moon hits Sun. And Dazzle sees it happen. Sun is by no means a passive doormat anymore, but he's willing to offer grace - except when it could impact his daughter. And he will NOT raise her around that behavior, he REFUSES.

Money is tight. They can't just live at the pizzeria, there are no bunkers here, and shelters are human-exclusive. Who does Sun know that has space, relative stability, and a place - nay, a haven - for people like him...?

Dark Sun takes Sun and Dazzle in, though it is one sidedly icy and clipped, albeit polite and grateful. And it's... it's nice. It's actually wonderful. And Dark Sun is a Sun himself - he does not lie, doesn't maliciously withhold information or gatekeep pointlessly. He answers any questions Sun has, and for those that he can't or won't, he explains why.

Sun meets others - some like him, some different, all Suns with more than a few accompanying souls who have made this place a home.

I'll be so honest, the last one is reeeaaally tempting to make a story for. Like... hnnnngghh-!!!!! I have SO MANY IDEAS!!!!!

But yeah at the end of the day, the whole thing with Moon could be generic loosey-goosey psychology stuff (explanation, not excuse!!!!), or it could be something BIG - and any writers like me will be double fisting this small nugget of experience with A VENGEANCE

[spamtennanation]

Had to make a whole new sideblog for this but I've been having Thoughts about SpamTenna wireplay. But specifically mixing it with angst because I like to cause suffering.

Imagine how it must have been in the beginning, in the Big Shot era. Imagine Spamton being surprisingly gentle with Tenna's wires, being slow and methodical to get the best results. In the beginning maybe it was uncertainty as they both were exploring and figuring it out, but then it just became what worked best. As they got more comfortable, maybe Spamton would be start being a little more rough, but always knowing exactly when to stop short, always being able to ride the line between pleasure and pain.

Then imagine them again post canon, maybe they've reconciled and been back together for a while. Maybe Tenna suggests the wireplay a few times, but Spamton brushes it off at first. Eventually, he agrees. Spamton does genuinely want to, but he seems nervous and Tenna isn't sure why. Maybe it starts out okay, nice and slow as they become familiar with each other in that way again. But then something goes wrong. Spamton doesn't have the same amount of control over his own body anymore and it betrays him, twitching or glitching and he ends up accidentally hurting Tenna. Tenna doesn't realize at first what happened, thinking it was just a mistake since it's been so long since they'd last done it, but Spamton pulls away from Tenna so quickly he realizes something is wrong. He realizes Spamton is in a full blown panic attack, this being the exact reason he hadn't agreed up to now. He's afraid that he can't do it anymore, can't give Tenna the pleasure he wants to give, without causing him pain in the process. Afraid that maybe, if he can't do it anymore, Tenna will leave him. Tenna has to end up comforting Spamton, reassuring him that he's okay. That he isn't with Spamton just for the wireplay.

I don't know where it goes from there. Maybe they agree to try again, to take it slow and figure out how to make it work now after everything. Maybe they have to try something new, maybe it's too dangerous for both to try it that way again, and while they are able to find new ways to pleasure each other, it still lingers as a bittersweet reminder of how things used to be and can never be again.

Idk I've never written any smut fanfic before (I'm very asexual myself lol) but maybe I'll have to write a full version of this sometime.

[onanightofwintryfog]

Squid game s3 spoilers

I haven't watched ep 5 and 6 entirely yet but I skimmed through them and I don't know if I'll watch them today bc the ending feels... Very.. netflix

The first episodes were so less gihun centric that I thought maybe the finale would make up for that but I guess it kinda didn't

I know where every fix it fic will start - by not using the last game

That last game takes sooo long and is kinda boring

Idk I felt I knew were this was going and gihun sacrificing himself for the baby well.. I didn't like it

The baby as a player fucked everything up

The unmasking between gihun and inho was so anticlimactic. Maybe it's my ao3 brain but come on, that was gihun's whole life for 3 years, finding out who the front man is, finding him, stopping the games, and when he finds out youngil is the frontman they don't even talk??

Srsly it's not just my 457 glasses, they deserved to talk, to discuss humanity and their beliefs

But gihun just leaves

They pushed them so hard in the promo and i know it was mostly netflix at fault bc they know how well the fans liked 457 as a ship but even before that - we had a whole s2 with them obsessed with each other and then s3 there is nothing left of that - mostly bc of a baby

Tbh I would have preferred to have a pregnant junhee die, that would have been so fucking tragic but it would have made the whole dynamic better

Junhee's death was brutal - also it didn't really make sense to me. Why did she jump? Why didn't she just let them shoot her? And bc she jumped, she could have tried to get to her baby (making the scene even more tragic) it would have fit better with her conviction to do everything for her baby. Giving gihun the job to look after it kinda felt a bit cheap

So to finish my last thoughts: I wanted more gihun, the season needed more gihun and we didn't get that which is one of the reasons it fell flat for me. He barely talked!! If you hype up the frontman /gihun confrontation and unmasking then you better show up with a great scene and not whatever this was (as Isaid I know that was mostly netflix's fault). More hwang brothers. There were so many characters I didn't care about which got so much screentime and I feel they could've cut a lot of that to show more important character moments - their scenes didn't even feel like a good commentary on what humans will do to each other in extreme situations.

So overall: this season was a miss. I will be reading fanfics and rewatching 1 and 2

[liobi]

Finish the Job, a Mafia AU bad end

okay so for context, I was working on some lotus eater machine stellaron stuff for @thedeerus's Time Is Running Out au which involved Stelle having a dream where there were no super powers and she and Caelus were in college and everything was fine, and Haris jumped off that with an idea that Nanook and Akivili ran a crime syndicate and the stellaron hunters were there to probe some rich kids who probably didn't know what their parents got up to for information to make that organization collapse.

That led to "well, rich kids and arranged fiances, right?" So Dan Heng and Sparkle got in the mix, (then the bullet points for this ending made us so sad that we legitimately started shipping Stelle and Sparkle so there's also a happily after ending titled (Don't) Finish The Job where Sparkle and Stelle do something about their growing feelings for each other and Stelle acknowledges she has two hands and both Kafka and Sparkle are happy to share her)(Dan Heng and Firefly uhhhh sure do. get along extremely well with Caelus in the biblical sense.... absolute bunny shit). I'll probably put all this stuff on AO3 eventually once i clean it up/make it less like the fanfic equivalent of a sketch by my standards, same with Time is Running Out. So yeah Mafia au is an AU of the Time is Running Out au and I hope you enjoy the bad end, without further ado..... Title; Path of Destruction

The socially mandated date nights between the heirs to Nanook’s “art dealing business” and their arranged fiancees were generally uneventful. Dinners at nice restaurants, box seats at sports games or theatrical productions, maybe a red carpet or two, the usual things that rich brats with nothing better to do did with their arranged future marriage partners. These dates were public affairs so business was kept firmly separate unless absolutely necessary. But this time business was intruding on Stelle’s date whether she liked it or not.

One too many phones pointed in their direction, a car that had circled the block twice, rain had begun to fall hard enough that her range of vision had shortened, and most crucially her parentally mandated tail had vanished. 

“What's wrong, grey hair?” Her fiancee looked at her quizzically when she slowed on their run for cover, not having noticed yet. Sparkle was better than Stelle at navigating people, but Stelle was better than Sparkle at navigating situations and this one reeked. So Stelle made a beeline for the nearby alleyway, holding tight to Sparkle’s arm despite her protests, to where a beat up pewter goblet had been placed to collect coins from sympathetic passersby.

“Are you troupe?” Stelle stood over a rambling homeless woman holding a wet cardboard sign that said “repent” as a futile shield against the rain. The woman didn't stop her ramblings but she gave the slightest incline of her head, and that was good enough for Stelle. “We might be fucked, get her out of here.” 

The speed in which the woman showed her goblet, stood, and readied at least six different weapons under her clothes impressed and frightened Stelle. Sparkle was affronted by Stelle’s disregard. “Grey hair if you don't tell me what's going on-”

“Just some stuff me and my guys have to take care of. I'll be back soon.” Stelle interrupted her, turning over Sparkle's arm to the incognito Mourning Actor. Sparkle started to say something else but the sentence was silenced by a kiss that was rough, joyless, exhausted, and tasted like deceit.

It was not the usual kiss of obligation, not the occasional kiss between politically arranged spouses that belied the unspoken seeds of affection between them in their private moments, this was the kiss of farewells. “See you later, Hanabi.”

Without a moment to spare the troupe member hustled Sparkle down the alleyway despite her protests. “Asshole! Grey hair! Stelle!!” 

And then she was out of sight and Stelle walked deliberately step by step into the road in front of the oncoming car before it could circle the block again. She sent a text to her brother as the car slowed to a stop.

I’m probably fucked.

Woof, me too.

That wasn't exactly comforting but at least she knew she had company in her misery. Occasionally Stelle and Caelus would have double dates and she was kicking herself that tonight wasn't one of those nights. As long as they were together they were basically invincible. As it was now, she only had her knife for company.

But then she got a text in the family group chat. It was from Nanook, and it was only one word.

Run.

They were turbo fucked.

.

.

.

.

“Did you text the kids?” A voice from upstairs called over the loud sloshing noises. Nanook snapped their old flip phone shut and climbed the villa stairs to see Akivili splashing kerosene onto every potentially flammable surface. “I already got the East and West wings, and I sent the staff through the escape tunnels. I think I’ll be done in abouuuuut ten minutes if I’m being careful, and three minutes if you decide fuck it we ball.”

Nanook took in the house. The family portrait of the two of them and their children, the halls full of so many memories, the life that they and Akivili had managed to build for themselves despite being orphans that came from nothing. Granted, what they built when they came to this country was a criminal empire, but every family had its own quirks.

“Whoever is attacking us is using a PMC, and they turned some of our guys.” Nanook sighed. The gunfire was steadily getting closer, the intruders had made it past the security gate because someone from the inside had opened it. “I guess I wasn't thorough enough with our housecleaning.”

Akivili stepped closer and laid their head against Nanook’s chest. Nanook rested their chin on the crown of Akivili’s head. The two of them basked in the relative silence and kerosene fumes as the distant gunfire drew closer. Akivili broke the silence. “We had a good run, didn't we Nano?”

“Do you have to call me that right now?”

“Awww, are you pouting? I remember when you were sooooo much smaller than me, just a little kid taking care of some rich asshole’s horses to make barely enough to buy some bread scraps.”  Akivili leaned back to meet Nanook's gaze with a tired, defeated smile.

“And I still remember the teenager who had more in common with a raccoon than a person, who hid in a haystack while they were running away from the local thugs they'd pissed off.” the corners of Nanook’s mouth turned upwards despite themself. “As long as the kids get to your Nameless network they should be safe.” 

“And as long as they're with their betrothed, they won't risk a fight. So they'll be fine.”

.

.

.

.

“I don't think it's a good idea for us to get separated. I think it's an even worse idea for you to get out of the car.” Dan Heng said as Caelus directed the driver to pull into an upcoming gas station and immediately leave as soon as he left the car. “We can lose whoever is following us, Qingni is one of the best drivers the Loufu jituan has.”

“The car up front is some sort of custom model, heavily armored, and I can already tell has more power than we do.” Caelus was mentally kicking himself. They'd gone to the opera so he'd left his knives and gun at home like an idiot instead of leaving them in the car like a reasonable mafioso. As it stood, all he had was his phone, his credit card, and a lighter. “Their plan is probably to wait until we’re in a less populated area and run us off the road with that monster.”

Dan Heng refused to break eye contact. “I’d rather we risk that over you facing whoever is pursuing us alone and unprotected.”

He was so sweet. That was why Caelus had no choice but to ignore his wishes. Dan Heng was the child of a clan steeped in politics and business, not crime. The last thing he needed was to be wrapped up in the legitimately dangerous bits of Caelus’s life. Caelus shot a look to Qingni in the mirror and she nodded.

Caelus was already opening the door when the car rolled to a stop. Dan Heng tried to protest, but Caelus swallowed it all with a kiss. 

“Don't worry, I'll be fine.” He said, pulling out his phone. He pulled up a photo from a day prior, a pregnancy test with two pink lines on the indicator, and showed it to his half panicking fiance. Caelus grinned at the understanding dawning in Dan Heng's eyes. “I’m extremely invested in staying safe after all.”

“Is… it mine?”

“Wow, way to trust your fiance.” Caelus laughed at the blush spreading across Dan Heng's face all the way to his ears. “To be honest I have no clue, the only time I haven't used protection was when it was both you and Firefly at once.”

“Ah, well, that was-”

“We were all drunk, it's fine.” Dan Heng was looking away sheepishly and Caelus took the opportunity to slip out of the car. He shut the door and knocked on the roof and it drove off before Dan Heng could offer any more protests. 

Caelus made the insane preparations that he could in the time he had, but not thirty seconds later, eight cars pulled into the gas station and surrounded him, the nightmare car leading the charge. All Caelus had managed to cobble together was an idea with a lighter and the gas station itself but he wasn't sure exactly how useful it would be against that mobile tank.

From seven of the cars, a swarm of people in nondescript black suits emerged, their firearms poorly concealed in their jackets. From the driver's seat of the custom car a woman wearing a helmet climbed out before coming around to open the rear door for the vehicle’s single passenger and offered a hand.

A woman with long purple hair, dressed in designer fashion and finery, stepped from the vehicle ever so lightly taking the hand of the woman in the helmet. Caelus recognized her, she was in interviews and magazine covers often enough. Jade, the CIO of the International Peace Corporation, a conglomerate big enough to rival the combined might of the Xianzhou jituans. A man in shades with a sword emerged from the crowd of goons and stood next to her, and the woman in the helmet visibly relaxed at his presence.

“Come here often, miss?” Caelus was grinning but his mind was racing. If they were here to just kill him then he was out of luck, but if there was a different angle he was sure he could play his cards right to get out of the situation. “I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting an IPC executive before.”

Jade brought her hand to her mouth, giving a polite laugh. “Before we get into any more of this lovely banter, let me just make it clear. We have no intention of harming you, we just need you to come with us for a while.”

Ah, a kidnapping. Caelus was relieved he'd sent Dan Heng away after all.

.

.

.

.

Kafka watched Stelle’s eyes dawn in realization when she stepped out of the car with Topaz. Six other cars had partially surrounded her in a loose semicircle, and Topaz’s goons were already out with their hands on their concealed weapons. Kafka’s own guns were in plain sight in her shoulder holsters.

“Ah man.” Stelle said with a great heaving sigh looking at Kafka’s guns. “I thought I was good at spotting incognito IPC folks. You're on a whole ‘nother level Miss Kafka.”

She was surprised that Stelle addressing her formally stung as much as it did. Until this moment, she had gotten close enough that Stelle just called her Kafka even at school. “I'm not IPC, but semantics don't really matter all that much in this situation, do they Stelle?”

Stelle's eyes were full of something between exasperation, anger, and grief as Kafka could see her sizing up the gathered forces. She was probably figuring the odds of if she could either fight her way out or flee in a way that got her clear of the whole affair. Kafka wanted to say something, anything to dull the tired malice in Stelle’s gaze, but before she could Topaz cleared her throat.

“You must be Stelle. I’m Topaz, a strategic acquisitions project manager for the IPC.”  Topaz’s red umbrella was like a warning light against the black cars and black suits of the IPC goons. “I’ve heard a lot about you and I would love to hear more from you directly. Would you be so kind as to come with us?”

“So this is a kidnapping, not an assassination.” 

Topaz paused, then began to laugh. “Why on earth would we kill the daughter of an art dealer?” With a slight twitch of her finger, her team began inching closer and closer towards Stelle. “We would just like to discuss a brand deal for our fashion sector, your engagement photos made quite the splash online after all.” 

Kafka remembered the photos. Stelle and her brother wearing collars and muzzles standing next to their seated fiancees who had them on leashes. They had sparked things in Kafka. Igniting her libido for her target was one of them, but they'd also caused a pang in her chest she didn't quite understand. 

Stelle was a target for her job, not someone she was interested in. Her job just happened to be aided by hooking up the cute university student she was probing for info.

“We all know you aren't here to offer a brand deal, just like I know my brother is probably surrounded just like this.” Stelle finally said, still sizing up the approaching goons closing in on her. “My brother and I are mafia princes of the Caos family, we should all just be honest.”

“So you do know. When Kafka said it was only a possibility you might know the truth, we had to build some contingencies into our plan.”  Topaz took out her phone and typed something that Kafka couldn't see. “The brand deal is real, for the record. Who knows? After everything is finished you and your brother might just take us up on it.”

Stelle sighed, turning her weary eyes to Kafka. “So if you aren't IPC, what are you?”

“My group specializes in small-scale espionage and destabilization.” Kafka’s heart was pounding as Stelle’s eyes pierced her soul. Her adrenaline was spiking but she didn't know why. “We’ve taken similar jobs for other groups, this was just another one.”

She took a step towards Stelle, and then another. Kafka could see every single muscle of hers ready to bolt or fight, the younger woman just hadn't decided yet. “Come with us Stelle, come with me. I won't let anything happen to you.”

Stelle looked at the goons. She looked at Topaz. She looked into Kafka's eyes. She let out all the air in her lungs almost as if she was deflating. Stelle looked up at Kafka with a defeated smirk. “Can I at least get one last kiss? You're supposed to give those to people you betray.”

Kafka took the last step and then she was next to Stelle. She cupped the younger woman’s face as Stelle leaned into it, looking at her with her big golden eyes. She really was cute.

Their lips met, their breath mingled. Stelle's breathing hitched as Kafka's tongue pressed against her lips, her teeth, and at last her tongue. When Kafka came away they were both breathless and wearing Kafka’s pink lipstick.

And then Stelle pounced. Before Kafka or any IPC personnel could react, Stelle grabbed Kafka and spun her around. One of her arms wrapped around Kafka pinning her arms to her side, preventing her from pulling her own weapons out, while her other hand pulled a knife from god knows where. The sharp edge of the blade was cool against Kafka's neck. Stelle raised her voice. “Let me go, or else your very talented espionage specialist is going to bleed out in the gutter.”

The IPC goons froze, Topaz didn't. She pulled out her own gun and immediately shot Stelle in the shoulder. Kafka felt the impact. Blood splashed onto her face, hot against the cold rain. Stelle stumbled backwards and Kafka got clear.

Topaz stepped forward and fired again, this time hitting Stelle in the chest. Stelle fell to her knees and Topaz took one final step, leveling her gun at the Mafia daughter's heart. “Sorry things turned out like this, kid.”

And then Topaz shot Stelle one last time and walked back to her car. Kafka watched the younger woman fall back, dark red blood mixing with the flowing water on the street. Stelle’s eyes were half closed when they met hers, their usual vibrant golden hue now a dark yellow as the light was leaving them. “Why do you… look so… sc…”

Stelle’s final words were cut short as her body went limp and all life left her.

“Are you coming?” Topaz called from the car. When Kafka didn't respond, Topaz sighed dramatically enough to be heard over the rain at a distance. “I'll send a car when you call for one.”

Following their project manager, all the other goons got into their cars and drove off into the rainy night.

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.

Sparkle heard the gunshots before she made it to the mouth of the alleyway. Her arms and knees burned and bled from the falls she had taken running away from her guard, but she kept running until she burst out into the open. Kafka was standing there, and Stelle was lying in the street with her blood washing away down the gutter. Sparkle dove for Stelle, scraping her knees all over again on the wet asphalt as Kafka stared dumbly. 

“Hey, grey hair! Get up, we have to go!” Holding Stelle, she felt how warm she still was. There was a hole in her shoulder and two in her chest and yet she was still so warm that Sparkle could have lied to herself that Stelle was faking, that they were about to go home, maybe climb into a bath because they were so wet and cold. Then they would curl up together in warm pajamas and blankets to watch one of Stelle’s old movies, because Sparkle chose the restaurant, which wouldn’t have subtitles and Stelle would translate every line of dialogue with an exaggerated Italian accent, and would probably throw some fakes in there to fuck with her.

That’s what was going to happen. That was the plan for the night. “Anata… Stelle… please…”

Kafka just stood there in the rain, silent but for the sound of her breathing. Stelle’s lips were stained pink with the remnants of Kafka’s lipstick. Sparkle brought her forehead to Stelle’s, and when she came away she too had the same pink-stained lips. Kafka cleared her throat, and Sparkle saw it then. The traces of emotions not known to Kafka but written on every inch of her face.

“What are you scared of, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Scared?” The “spider woman” as Sparkle had called her what felt like ages ago now had a dawning light in her eyes. “Oh. That’s what this feeling is.”

It started as a chuckle, then a bark. Then Sparkle laughed despite herself. She laughed and she laughed and she laughed and laughed until her voice was hoarse and the tears were streaming down her face. She held Stelle’s cooling body close. 

“I was ready to give her to you. Wasn’t that enough? Her love, her adoration, all of that was yours to have freely. So why did you have to take her life? The one thing she had to give me, the one thing that was mine and mine alone.”

When Kafka didn’t speak, Sparkle couldn’t help but fall into another grief-stricken laughing fit. “I’m sorry.” Kafka finally said.

Through her laughter, Sparkle managed to get her handbag open and find what she was looking for. She pulled out her snub-nosed revolver, and Kafka quickly pulled her own guns on Sparkle. She laughed again. “Relax, this isn’t for you.”

Sparkle loaded a singular bullet into the cylinder. “I told her I’d follow her anywhere she went no matter what. As a mob wife it’s only right, after all.” And with that simple proclamation, before Kafka could do anything, Sparkle put the gun under her jaw. “I’ll tell her you said hello when I get to hell.”

She squeezed the trigger.

.

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.

.

And Kafka was left alone with two dead bodies in the rain.

She stayed like that for god knows how long, watching as the blood from the dead women mixed with the rainwater, separate blood trails joining as one as they meandered their way into the gutter and towards the storm drains. Maybe that’s all hell was, the storm drains where your blood finally mingled with those you couldn’t have.

Maybe that was the thought that finally broke her. Kafka pulled out her phone, dialing Silver Wolf’s newest phone number without having much conscious thought at all.

“You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t find an umbrella or something.” a sardonic voice said without preamble. 

Of course Silver Wolf was watching somehow. She had once bragged to Kafka how even though she rarely stepped outside for anything other than moving safe houses, she’d been to more places in the world than Kafka, Blade, and Firefly combined. “Do you want me to tip someone off to come get their bodies?”

“Are you done making the exit plan file?”

“You mean the one that’s a threat that guarantees us our safety from the IPC after this job so they don’t treat us like loose ends to clean up? Yes I’m done making it, I was done making it like a week after we took this job. If anything, I’ve just been tweaking it as I find more and more dirt on them. At this point it’s more of a hydrogen bomb than it is an exit plan.” Silver Wolf’s dry, sarcastic tone faded as warriness crept in and took its place. “Why?”

“I just…” Kafka didn’t know why she was about to do this, but somehow it was the only path she could see out. She felt sick to her stomach, she was hyperventilating, and in all likelihood this new emotion of hers was sending her into shock. “Give it to her brother, tell him I'm sorry. She wasn't supposed to die, none of them were. They're all more useful to the IPC alive than they are dead, and yet…”

The pause on the other end of the line seemed to last forever, until finally, “Are you really sure you want to do this? It might fuck us all.”

When Kafka didn’t respond, Silver Wolf sighed.

“I’ll send it. Depending on what happens I might not talk to everyone for a while, I'll contact you when it's safe again.” The line went dead, and Kafka knew that whatever she had done couldn’t be walked back any longer.

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.

The first thing Caelus had done when they pulled up was to swipe his credit card at the gas pump, the second was to pull the nozzle from its nest, and the third was to grab his lighter. Firefly appreciated that her childhood friend turned situationship’s first instinct was to improvise a flame thrower when out of better options. 

She hadn’t removed her helmet yet, as she didn’t want to make things any more awkward or uncomfortable than they were already going to be. Once they took Caelus in she’d ask for some private time with him, explain that, while yes she was in fact part of a group that came to covertly extract information from them, she hadn’t realized that he or Stelle had known what it was their parents did for a living. 

Regardless, the original plan was that she and her friends were going to ensure that nothing bad happened to either of them while they were in IPC custody. They’d be taken to safe houses far, far away from here once the whole destabilizing a crime empire business was finished.

If she played her cards right, she might even come out of this whole situation with her childhood friends having a positive opinion of her. As long as neither of them were harmed in the whole affair, she was reasonably sure she stood a chance.

“Why don't you put the gas hose back where it belongs, and I'll promise neither you nor your sister will be hurt.” Jade said after a moment.

“Ah man, you guys are after her too? What guarantees do I have that you'll keep your word?” Caelus was clearly eyeing all the IPC mooks and probably doing his own risk assessment. 

“I never break my word.” Jade looked at Firefly and smiled. “But if it makes you feel any better, I can have my team draft up a contract and my driver here will bring it over to you.”

Firefly silently nodded. Caelus looked back and forth between the two. He finally sighed, resignation clear in his voice. “Alright, send them over.”

It only took Jade a couple minutes to prepare everything on a tablet before she sent Firefly over with it. Firefly handed it to Caelus who quickly read through it. When he was done he handed it back to Firefly.

“I still have some concerns, such as what will be our accommodations, a guarantee for the safety of our parents…” he clearly thought about something and laughed. “And a nearby toilet for me, morning sickness is a bitch.”

“What??” The word slipped before Firefly could stop it, and Caelus's head whipped towards her.

“No fucking way.” His gaze pierced her helmet, made her feel naked, exposed, and unbelievably guilty. “Please tell me that's not you, Firefly.” 

Firefly stayed frozen as his fingers gently slipped under her helmet and pulled it from her head. Her hair cascaded down around her face in a way that would have been attractive if not for the fact that Caelus wore a look of betrayal as intense as her own look of guilt. She could barely get out her choked response “Sorry.”

“Don't be too hard on her.” Jade’s voice seeped in like a sweet poison in the rain. “The IPC owns her artificial heart, and we’re the only ones who can maintain it. No other company or back alley doctor, no matter how skilled, could manage it. That's how we designed it after all.”

Before Caelus could do or say anything else, his phone chimed. He looked at Jade. “Surely you won't have me shot for checking my texts, right?”

“By all means, feel free.”

Caelus pulled it out, eyes scanning the screen. He paused, as if he was unsure what he was looking at. Then Firefly watched the light in his golden eyes go dark, any tension or defiance in his body deflated. 

In one second he went from being ready to take on the entire world to looking dead inside. He typed something on his phone before he dropped it onto the wet concrete, and with barely a pause he stomped on it again and again and again. 

Firefly, the IPC goons, and even Jade were taken aback by the ferocity Caelus used to destroy the phone. Light had returned to his eyes, but it wasn't anything resembling life. It was just white hot fury and hatred. He was panting by the time he was finished and his voice came out a snarl. “My sister, my other half, the best parts of me, is fucking dead.”

Firefly's heart dropped into her stomach. No, it wasn't supposed to be like this. The two of them were supposed to be safe. They weren't supposed to get hurt. If anything happened to either of them, her world may as well end. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, she could only stare at Caelus's face, once identical to Stelle's, twisted by rage to the point where he was almost unrecognizable.

“That… wasn't supposed to happen.”  Jade finally said.

That withering gaze slowly turned towards Firefly. She had to say something, anything. “I just wanted to protect both of you.” She managed to choke out.

“You sure did a great fucking job.” Caelus had a humorless bark of laughter. “Honestly if I knew this was going to be the end result, I wouldn't have asked Nanook to pay for your treatment when we were kids.”

She looked into his eyes, and there was no love, no tenderness for Firefly in Caelus's gaze. Only all consuming hatred. “I wish you had fucking died in that hospital.”

One of the IPC goons’ phones dinged, then another, and another after that. Then Jade’s rang and it was a never ending torrent of notifications. Some of the goons looked and their faces suddenly filled with shock and horror. Jade looked at her own notifications and her face crystalized cold anger. “Should I assume you're responsible for this?”

“Is it about a streamer leaking all the IPC’s dirty secrets? I'm glad Guinaifen already put it to good use.” Caelus now wore a grin with zero mirth.

“She's associated with the jituans if memory serves.” Jade’s own gentle, calculating smile was gone. “Firefly, come here.”

“Enjoy your board meeting tomorrow.” Caelus taunted.

Not even bothering to respond, Jade turned towards the car as soon as Firefly was by her side. “Shoot him.” 

Firefly whipped around but the IPC forces had already opened fire. The bullets rocked Caelus, riddling his body full of holes, but as he fell he looked almost at peace. He was joining his other half.

“Firefly, please return me to Pier Point. I'll have to make preparations to speak to the board.” Firefly was numb. Everything was too much, and all she could do through shock was to open the car’s door for Jade. “If that pregnancy was due to your own involvement with him, I do sincerely apologize.”

Later, Firefly would realize she couldn't recall ever driving Jade back to Pier Point. She couldn't recall much of the following days either.

.

.

.

.

When Aventurine and his team finally managed to breach the grounds of Nanook and Akivili's mansion, they had already donned full gas masks due to the “metric fuck ton,” as he would put it, of tear gas deployed against them. Due to that, none of the team noticed the fact that the manor absolute reeked of kerosene fumes.

There was a loud clack of a flip phone being shut violently from what Aventurine surmised was a sitting room when he turned towards it to see Akivili and Nanook sitting in high backed chairs on either end of an unlit fireplace staring directly at him. “Just the two I was hoping to speak to.”

“If you're here, should we assume that the rest of our people are dead?” Nanook asked.

“You Annihilation Gang folks can sure put up a hell of a fight, especially that Celenova.” It was true, Aventurine had lost about seventy percent of his forces just getting to the mansion. “Those we could take alive we did, but that wasn't many of them.”

“That's a shame, I really admired her.” Akivili sighed, slouching over in their chair as they pulled out an old lighter to fiddle with.  

Nanook looked at them with a raised eyebrow. “You hated the way she did things.”

“That doesn't mean I didn't admire her determination.” Akivili responded simply. 

“Regardless of the tragic circumstances of our meeting, all I was hoping for was to talk to you about a real estate proposal.” Aventurine held up his hand, leaving his forces in the foyer as he entered the sitting room alone. “I do deeply regret it took all this to get to this point.”

Akivili looked at him incredulously. “You did all this… to build a mall on our turf?”

“Not a mall per se, but we do have quite a vested interest in the area.” Aventurine smiled, now standing before the two of them. “Assuming we can come to an agreement, all of this unsavory business can come to an end this instant.”

Akivili and Nanook looked at each other and sighed. Nanook turned their gaze to Aventurine, staring into his soul. “Tell me boy, do you have any children of your own?”

“Can't say that's my thing, no.”

“It was difficult for us to bring them into this world to begin with, and even then the pregnancy was riddled with complications.” Akivili looked like they would have put a hand on their spouse’s shoulder while Nanook told the story if they could reach them. “Near the end, the three of us barely held on.”

“I admire your perseverance.” Aventurine said honestly.

“Those two are our everything, our twin stars for whom we have built this entire empire to eventually gift to them.” Akivili said, turning their dull gaze to Aventurine as well.

Nanook took a deep breath in and out as if they were about to reveal the secrets of the world. “And now those stars have been extinguished at the hands of your corporation.”

Oh. Well fuck, that wasn't the plan at all. Aventurine wanted to say something to try and get the odds of the situation even slightly in his favor but Akivili spoke before he could.

“Now that our little stars have gone out, we might as well let this entire empire burn and hope the ashes choke everyone responsible to death.”

The two crime lords clasped hands across the fireplace. Akivili struck the flint wheel of the lighter and dropped it, the flame igniting the very air around it as it fell. It struck the ground, the fire spreading so fast Aventurine didn't even have time to process what was happening. When the flames found the collections of explosives Nanook had set around the house, the concussive force ripped through every last IPC member until no one was left to witness the mansion becoming a fireball climbing towards the heavens, a funeral pyre memorializing the twin stars Nanook and Akivili would have given everything for.

At last, the awful night came to an end.

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.

.

.

The following weeks were consequences and fallout on all sides of the conflict. Thanks to Caelus’s choice to send all the dirt Silver Wolf had given him to a streamer affiliated with one of the Xianzhou jituans, the story had been spun that their family had been embroiled in a real estate scheme managed by an IPC affiliated company. 

Many people correctly inferred it was a shell corporation and that there was more involved than that, but the majority of people only knew the narrative the Xianzhou was selling. A couple of art dealers who had come from nothing and were heavily involved in philanthropy and giving back to their communities had died in a house fire and their children had been shot all on the same night, all because the IPC wanted the real estate of the community they supported. 

They had died as heroes and shining examples of how good people could be, not as the horrifying crime lords they actually were.

Silver Wolf paid the price for supplying that dirt, though. Despite being at one of her many safehouses, they lost contact within a few days and she was found having apparently committed suicide. 

The Loufu group, despite only being involved in the political and financial worlds, had their own ways of dealing with things. They had apparently lost patience with their former member Blade the night that the fiance of one of the young scions of the clan died. So Blade vanished, and Kafka couldn’t find any trace. 

IPC stock had fallen significantly, sinking 35% in a single week. Several subsidiary companies went out of business all at once, including some supermarkets that had pushed all local competition out of the space. Their shareholders tried to replace Diamond as CEO, but for whatever reason the push for that ended the next day. 

Due to Kafka and Firefly’s potential involvement with the whole situation, Kafka had expected them to need to go underground. Much to her surprise though, whether out of recognition for their contributions or in an effort to keep them on a leash, the two of them had been offered jobs with the company. 

Firefly was offered the position of being the Board of Directors’ personal driver, a job she was guaranteed to excel in. After a long deliberation, she agreed to the position when lifetime maintenance and support for her artificial heart was included in the benefits package. 

As for Kafka, after a long and grueling session of questioning as to why immediately prior to Silver Wolf giving Caelus a nuclear warhead of scandal material she had called the woman, she was offered the chance to be a head of one of their new departments focused on “market research”. It was really just more corporate espionage and Kafka knew it. 

She rejected the offer and went into hiding, not wanting to be included in any last minute loose end trimming that the IPC may have felt it needed to perform so they could focus on stock recovery. 

Kafka would eventually go on to write a tell-all autobiography about her experiences with the espionage, the charming mafia princess, and the personal tragedies of the characters in the halcyon days before the IPC had completely consumed the city. She lived in a little cottage in the forest where no one could ever bother her unless she wanted them to, and that’s where she spent the rest of her days. She knew fear, she had known and lost love, and now she was learning to make peace with her soul.

And that was really all she could do after everything. 

They had finished the job.

[lynxgriffin]

This whole thing is about Growing Pains (I love this comic oh my god):

After the blood on the carpet scene, everyone was talking about the fact that Susie knew how to clean blood stains. But I'm more worried about the fact that NOT EVEN I KNOW how to clean blood stains. WHAT HAPPENED IN THIS GIRL'S LIFE... THAT MADE HER LEARN THAT??!?!? THAT'S VERY WORRYING

Also, a small comment I wanted to say, every time I see fanarts of human characters as monsters or monster characters as humans, specially Susie, I think of your comic (My favorite human Susie ever made was the one drawn by @/Napsskai on Twitter). It reminds me of something I read, maybe it was in your blog I don't remember, but Susie being mad at Kris for them being what she wished she could be or something like that? You know, not exactly in Deltarune canon of course but like in an alternate version where half-human Susie is in the story, like in your comic. I mean, like a fanfic. Teenage, older human Susie takes a lot of space in my brain, specially of we pretend that half-human Susie is real, because we're like, seeing a version of her that she wished was real, something she could have been. Extremely painful.

(For some reason it reminds me of the character Polly from the movie Girl Interrupted, she's a burn survivor and her face is completely disfigured (she burned herself, by the way), but she's very sweet... there is a very mean comment made by one of the characters that is something like "Polly is just extra nice because she doesn't want us to care about her ugly face" or something like that, and this affects her a lot. Since the characters live in a mental hospital, there's a moment where the girls secretly look at their medical records and Polly looks at a picture of herself before the burn, and you can see in her micro expressions how sad she is about it, and how badly she misses her face. Later, in another scene, the characters are woken up in the middle of the night by Polly having a crying fit, screaming things like "my face! my face is ugly! I'm so ugly!", showing that this is a recurring problem, and the guards take her away. I know this has nothing to do with your story, and it was mostly just me infodumping, but it reminds me a little of this whole thing. This has a lot of potential for angst. Does Susie have any pictures of herself as a child? Because if she does, they must be very painful to look at.)

Yeah, I had to stop on the moment where Susie talked about cleaning the bloodstain, because uhhh! That felt significant somehow?? (I also really wish we knew when the stain happened)

And yeah, it does feel like there's some potential there of Kris and Susie having parallel experiences, but in the opposite direction. There's got to be some reason that Susie specifically targeted the only human in town for bullying.

(I haven't seen Girl, Interrupted myself though!)

Glad you liked the theory! I will actually debate about whether the weird route is literally showing monsters bleeding, though, but that's something I'll probably talk about on stream tomorrow. Glad at least the rest got you thinking!

And, the problem with saying that Sans is bleeding because he's more determined is that we don't see Undyne bleeding in her boss battle. Let's be real here, she was the one who was WAY hyped up on determination, more than any other monster in the Underground. If blood has anything to do with determination, then we should have had that dramatic bleeding moment with Undyne, not Sans.

Aaaand I think the point of the dark worlds is not so much about magic and whether or not the monsters have it, but more about fiction, possibility and imagination!

[toxintouch]

Kinktober speedrun time! Used the Mirror prompt on this list. Thank you for the inspo! Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || Dom!Reader x Leander

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Reader, Mirror Use. Edging/Orgasm Denial + Light Degradation & Name calling (Leander being referred to as a dog but he’s really into it, promise) + Power Exchange & Sub/Dom Dynamics

OTHER INFO: Leander has a dick, anatomy of Reader/POV Character remains unspecified; "they" pronouns used.

Leander has the straight backed posture of a man who was given etiquette lessons.  His mannerisms speak of wealth and class, yet they can’t help but observe that he looks completely comfortable while down on his knees.

His back muscles flex as he works himself, sweat slipping down his spine, pooling in the dimples just above his ass.  He’s strung tight, the veins in his arms straining as he strokes a quick, even rhythm.  His dick is flushed a painful red, copious amounts of pre-cum dripping down his wrist and splattering onto his thick thighs, some of it even dirtying the floor below when his strokes become too enthusiastic.

(They wonder how best to make him clean it later–he does so love to be ordered to lick up his own mess–but this floor is probably just as filthy as anywhere else in the Wick, despite appearances–and they don’t think they can find it in themself to make use of his mouth again after watching that.)

The full length mirror hanging in front of Leander is a new addition to the room. Something they’d wheedled out of him with nothing but an easy promise, whispered into his ear down at the bar.  It was theirs not a full day later: a polished brass antique with a priceless clear finish.

His back is to them, but they can see everything they need to by gazing at his reflection.

His strokes stutter, faltering, and they watch as his abdominals jump rapidly. His hand makes a few more shaky attempts before he stops himself with a shudder, breathing hard and squeezing his cock at the base to cut off his own orgasm. They give a little hum of approval, waiting.

“Count.”  They prompt, when he fails to remember on his own.  

They watch his throat bob with effort as he swallows, his jaw trembling around his answer.  “Five.”

“Good boy,” they say, their voice flat and unrewarding.  Dismissive. "Guess that Hightown education really paid off for you, huh?" He whines at that, his palms slicking along his thighs, awaiting their instruction.  He glances at them in the mirror, eyes hopeful. “Again,” they prompt, “and keep your eyes on yourself until I tell you.  During, too. You were closing them a lot. It's just you and the mirror until you've earned otherwise.”

Bites his lip, beginning to stroke himself again.

The next edge comes more quickly.

His eyebrows draw up, mouth falling open, back arching.  His cock jumps and this time he falls back onto his hands to keep from giving into temptation.  His eyes travel the length of the mirror, his neck taught with tension as he pants.  They notice his gaze darting along their form for a moment, greedily stealing along their silhouette in the looking glass. A quick glance of the place where their legs are splayed open as they lounge on the bed behind him, toying with themself idly.

He’s back to form so seamlessly, he probably thinks they didn’t even notice. The next number falls out of his mouth without prompting, as if to cover for his earlier sleight.

"..."

“Baby,” he whines, fidgeting without further instruction. His fingers return to his dick when they don't reply, ghosting over his wet, swollen cockhead.  He knows they hate the way that epithet sounds in his voice, the condescending lilt he manages to wrap around the syllables. “Sweetheart. Please, may I–”

“Bad dog,” they admonish.  They don't elaborate–let him figure out for himself which breach of protocol they're scolding him for.

“Again. And if you can’t behave, I’ll have to put you outside.”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦Kinktober Speedrun on Ao3

Consider: this type of power play with yandere!Leander...you watching him when he's usually the one watching you...

[vignirek]

Wukong + Macaque headcanons (part 3)

(part one & part two of previous hcs)

Wukong

- optional headcanon 1: in JTTW the monkeys all adopt Wukong's surname "Sun" (if I remember that part correctly), so perhaps in the Monkie Kid universe the monkeys still share Wukong's surname like they're all one family in a sense (and maybe it also applied to Macaque while he still lived on the mountain)

- has less scars than Macaque, but the ones he does have are from pretty severe injuries that his immortality was unable to heal for various reasons (and maybe he got some of them from before he became immortal and didn't have op regeneration abilities yet) - his favorite flavor is sweet and he dislikes spicy + bitter foods (while Macaque is the opposite, though he does eat moderately sweet things) - Wukong's fur is short and soft, while Macaque's fur is long and smooth - he and Macaque were the troop's go-to babysitters when the monkey parents wanted some rest from taking care of their babies (after their fallout, Wukong had to be the babysitter all by himself, but then Macaque started picking up his babysitter duties again since his return to the mountain after S4) - likes to play videogames in his spare time, his favorite types are tower defense and fighting games (while Macaque's favorites are fighting games and story-driven games) bonus: they're mutually afraid of horror/scary games (partially inspired by Monarch and Cyyu playing Mortuary Assistant) - optional headcanon 2: Wukong became depressed sometime after the journey, but he's been isolated on his mountain for so long that he doesn't even see it as a problem (and even if he did, he'd just deploy his good ol' "ignore the problem until it's not a problem" tactic) (it definitely wouldn't work all the time though) bonus thought: at some point Macaque realizes that his ex-best friend is depressed and starts secretly helping him out by making him proper meals and making sure he always has a set of clean clothes available (and just doing the house chores in general) (he feels like a jerk for always clowning on Wukong for being smelly after realizing this, so perhaps he does the chores as a way of making it up to Wukong) - he and Macaque used to have a very intertwined/synced fighting style; now they're grown used to fighting separately after their fallout, but they can still subconsciously slip into the familiar pattern sometimes - headcanon for funsies: he/she genderfluid

Macaque

- continuation & sorta update of my headcanon where Macaque has another name besides "Six Eared Macaque" - still kinda stuck on which one would be most fitting for him, but I've narrowed it down to my three favorite options after a lot of digging:

1) "Fēng Wǔ" (风舞/"wind dance"; my main interpretation is that it's a nod to his manner of dancing being light and carefree like the wind (in my headcanon at least))

2) "Yǐng Wǔ" (影舞/"shadow dance"; somewhat similar to "wind dance", but with his shadow powers, could be interpreted as him guiding his shadows in a dance of sorts)

3) "Jiāo Yè" (姣夜/"charming night"; mostly a nod to his black fur and maybe his appearance in general- perhaps the backstory behind this name is that Wukong gave Macaque a nickname in an attempt to help him feel less self-conscious about his own appearance, and the nickname eventually grew into an actual name that Macaque started using)

(note: I'm absolutely not an expert on chinese names and these options are mostly results of me slapping together chinese characters and seeing which ones sound good together in theory- so don't expect them to be 100% accurate to how chinese names actually work)

- has a big amount of scars from various past scuffles that happened before and after his resurrection (mostly because he doesn't heal quickly like Wukong does, so Macaque is not as "untouchable" as him)

- very good at vocal mimicry (basically he copies people's voices really well) and can adjust his voice to copy anyone he hears (his ears help him a lot with that, bc he can easily copy the voice just by listening closely)

- optional headcanon 1: Macaque gets a pair of headphones at some point and spends at least a couple hours a day listening to music; one of his favorite genres is metal (though overall his music tastes range from gentle tunes to something more like rock or metal) and he sometimes sings along (he typically goes into a room covered in noise-cancelling spells to do it) (maybe he takes those precautions because one time he got too into it and received multiple noise complaints the next day /j)

- the vision in his right eye (from his point of view) is pretty bad because of the injury, he's pretty much considered legally half-blind in that regard; the most he can see is blurry moving shapes, but he tries to make up for it with his hearing, so usually the blind right eye is not much of a hindrance to him, though he refuses to get glasses or lenses of any kind for vague reasons - prone to losing his appetite when he's really sick or stressed (he struggles maintaining a healthy weight because of that) - optional headcanon 2: Macaque had already been living on FFM for some time, but then one day he witnessed Wukong hatching from his egg and basically went "oh cool, new friend c:" and brought him along, and afterwards they became friends (basically he's older in this backstory interpretation) - in terms of shapeshifting, Macaque's strengths are in disguising himself as other people, while Wukong is more proficient with the 72 transformations (they can do both, but Macaque only has a few animal forms and hides his tail, while Wukong has his tail at all times when he's transformed into an animal or is using a disguise) - used to be fond of peaches, but after so much baggage involving Wukong, they taste almost bittersweet to him and he rarely eats them nowadays - a decent teacher when he puts his mind to it (he's typically the more organized one when it comes to teaching, though he isn't afraid to push limitations when he feels it's necessary) - headcanon for funsies: he/they nonbinary

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i think fandom spaces would become much more enjoyable across the board if people stopped flipping their pancakes over other fans enjoying characters that they don't like. or, god forbid, like them but in 'the wrong way.'

[autoauthor]

@doveywovy's latest post [link] reminded me of (one of) my own mermaid AU(s) so I thought I'd write it up now. Absolutely adore their writing.

Tobirama is a mermaid kept in captivity.

He was rescued by Hashirama when he was very young, and has formed a sort of familial attachment. He is the only one Tobirama will not try to drown.

Tobirama's albinism as well as injuries sustained before capture means he's unable to be released into the wild. Thankfully Hashirama's friend, Madara has a marine facility Tobirama can be kept in.

One day, Madara's college-aged little brother comes to visit. Of course, he didn't tell anyone he was stopping by and took various "caution" signs as light suggestions. Leading to him peering over the edge of Tobirama's pool.

Of course he ends up pulled in.

Tobirama manages to drag him to the bottom of the water - using his greater mass to bring him under. With no one around, this may be his first actual human kill.

Izuna's instincts take over. Not his survival instincts or even fear - his instincts as a bratty and scrappy little brother used to being tackled and roughhoused with.

He elbows Tobirama right in the gills.

Then, he curls up at the bottom of the pool and extends his legs to launch himself towards the surface.

Izuna, grew up with a pool in his backyard, a lakeside vacation home, and trained hard enough to be captain of his university's swim team. Still, he would've never escaped if Tobirama hadn't become enraptured with his figure swimming towards the light with his loose hair trailing behind him.

Yeah, he's in love.

Izuna may be small, but he can fight, is beautiful, and is a much more graceful swimmer than the other humans.

Madara chews out Izuna for being so reckless, of course. And for the first part of his visit, they steer clear of even the room Tobirama's enclosure is in.

Eventually, Madara has to go check in. Tobirama's leaving large portions of food uneaten. He's also being downright loud - coming up to the surface of the water several times a day to cry out. Hashirama is starting to get worried.

Madara has some undefined veterinary experience so agrees to take a look, and Izuna trails behind him out of boredom. Which leads to Tobirama being even louder and actually going to the pool's edge when they arrive. He usually lurks under the surface when he sees Madara or anyone new.

Eventually everyone catches on that he's courting the younger Uchiha.

He tries giving Izuna portions of his food and also to convince him to get into the water. He even snaps at Hashirama if he thinks he's too close or being too friendly.

Madara warns that he's still a wild animal and it's no less dangerous. Izuna, who is again, a little shit, only wants to do it more now that he's been told not to. So he ends up slipping in for a dip.

Tobirama doesn't try to drown him again, but begins swimming around him - slowed due to his injury. Izuna decides that he'll practice some synchronized swimming (he was NOT paying attention when his brother described mer courting rituals). Tobirama is thrilled that his affections were returned. Someone has to let Izuna know that they're pretty much married in mer terms.

However, Izuna was only visiting for a few months while mers mate for life. He's also your typical carefree young-adult with a promising career. While Izuna is off doing sports anime shenanigans, Tobirama is refusing food and damaging his own scales.

On the flip-side, when he does visit, he does things like hand-feed Tobirama bites of his sushi and run his hands over his scales. They also still swim together (to Madara's dismay).

[mrsillyhonests-opinion41]

When you're a fan of knh/tad and have a lot of ideas for [x reader] fanfics to share, but the characters you have in mind aren't in the anime yet, and you don't want to spoil anyone:

[silly-centipede]

Been writing a fanfic where Will Graham and Dr. House have a date in Waffle House

[lauronk]

wip count before ep. 1: 50

wip count before ep. 2: 51 (+3 created, -2 moved to on hold folder)

[fearandhatred]

hi i'm not dead <3 came across a post that reminded me of this wip that was supposed to be multi-chaptered but that i'll never finish so. here's the 1k words i've written for the first chapter. the plot is hanahaki with a twist

–––––<3–––––

the language of flowers

"He pointed out the spot where many a blue-belled flower grew, and there they met, and vowed to be constant unto death."

---

Excerpts from The Demonic Code of Conduct, written in ink shortly after The Great War and subsequently misplaced, and thus unknown in its specifics to any demon.

Thou shalt not utter the name of the Lord, nor use the Devil's name in vain.

Thou shalt not commit honourable acts. To do so is to be unworthy of what its existence constitutes.

Thou shalt not love another sentient being. A demon that offers its heart to another in any shape or form, be it of its own kind or otherwise, shall have that other of which it loves turned upon it as punishment and take over it till its life's end, for the wages of sin is death.

John 1:1. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was—

Life is poetic, Crawly muses, coiled up under the shade of a tree. The tree, to be specific. The one that would get the ball rolling, though he still has a while before the lady comes wandering around to this side of the garden.

Life is poetic. Life is poetry. He thinks this now because he feels the cool grass brushing against his scales, sharp but delicate, the bright and incomparable scent of dew, and he knows how they would taste on his tongue without ever having tasted them. He rests his head softly between some small blooming flowers and he knows that they mean.

Life is poetry, because everything has its own language and yet can never be separate from anything else. Whether Crawly has been cursed or blessed to know every language in the world he's not sure, but it all speaks to him. The written language, of course, that would come into fruition as strokes and lines that will somehow become words, the Word; the language of science, with the intricacies of atoms settling around and inside him, or exploding above, the inherent yet overwhelming knowledge of how it all works; the language of flowers, with all their meanings filling his nostrils and resting on his tongue like honey.

It could be a curse if he were human, maybe, with a mind not meant to hold this much information or to know what to do with it. But he's not human, and he'll live a long enough life to be able to digest it all—although he knows even now that some things are too great to comprehend, too intricate and ineffable to fathom. It's a blessing, he decides now. (Although in a thousand years he'll look up at the Tower of Babel, everyone around him speaking a hundred different tongues as God's idea of a plague, and he'll wonder if the universe has got curses and blessings all twisted around.)

He flops over onto his back—though it's not much of a flop, really, in this long form; it's rather like the unravelling of a scroll—and flicks out a tongue towards the flowers drooping right over his head. They're a vibrant yet deep shade of blue, not sharp enough to hurt, and they hang from arched stems like grapes from a vine.

Bluebells, he decides, and they look a little like they're twinkling right at him, light and pleasant chiming sounds like the laughter of stars. Besides, God only specifically told Adam to name the animals, so he supposes everything else is fair game.

There's a certain lightness in being surrounded by beauty and new creation, a particular surreal quality to the colourful loneliness of nature that he thinks he'll never get tired of, and he's feeling playful. Instead of moving just his eyes, he rolls full-body around in the grass to different clumps of flowers, and their names slip off his tongue like he's not actually naming them, but as if they're introducing themselves to him. In the Garden, there are no rules as to where or how nature grows; the plants and flowers all coexist, thrive off each other, and it's something he'll grow to miss.

A stalk of orange flowers with tapered and curled petals wave to him from their nest at the root of a tree. Hey you. Crawly flicks his tongue back at them. Hi, lilies. Their name dances off his tongue, delicate and happy.

A dark red flower smiles serenely at him from the underbrush. Rose, he greets, a name no less elegant for its simplicity.

He coils around the pink viscarias as they twirl and sway to their own wind, and sits in silence with the marigolds. All of the flowers, chrysanthemums and tulips, anemones and violets, petals tapered or round or bright or dull, are equal to him in beauty, for he finds that there is beauty to be found just in understanding. He doesn't have a favourite yet, but then again, he doesn't have to play favourites.

And so in the Garden of Eden, Crawly finds himself falling in love for the first time.

The woman comes along then, and tempting her is as easy as a conversation, an icebreaker. An apple, he hisses in her ear, and the way her tongue sounds the word out for the very first time couldn't be anything but divine.

After all has been said and done, Crawly gently plucks out a flower from its bush, and scales the wall like poison ivy to meet the angel, curious, always curious. And it turns out that there's more splendour to be found in the view from above, if less intimacy. While he had gotten to meet the flowers up close beforehand, delighting in their individuality amongst the acres of green grass, now they all seem to blend together in harmony, like one living, breathing being. An organism in itself, with its own systems and its own language.

Crawly shifts into his human form and presents the flower to the angel with a light magician's flourish. "I'm guessing you haven't had the privilege of being among the flowers yet," he says by way of introduction.

The angel looks down at the red petals Crawly is holding out to him, surprised. "I haven't indeed. And who is this lovely thing?"

Crawly's heart jumps at the question, unable to stop his face from splitting into a grin as the angel gently takes the flower from him. "It's a rose," he says. "She can mean whatever you want it to mean, right now."

And everything is everything is everything: nothing can exist without the other. There in that garden, and then on the wall and beyond, the meanings Crawly and Aziraphale breathe into the flora emerge and grow their roots over generations, and to the end of time.The angel looks up him, eyes shockingly blue and crinkling with delight, and Crawly thinks of the bluebells in the garden, leaning over him in shelter. Warm, steady, protective. Those are my favourite, he decides, and at the back of his throat, he thinks he knows how they taste.