#because Two is chaotic and murderous when he thinks he's right

[orellazalonia]

Fake Dating

Summary: You convince your very real boyfriend Bucky Barnes to pretend to be your boyfriend at a high-profile gala after flirting with a Latvian arms dealer to get intel. (Bucky Barnes x chaotic!reader)

Word Count: 1.6k+

Main Masterlist | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

It started with a crash.

Not a dramatic explosion or a mission gone wrong. Just you bursting through the doors of the Avengers' common room, skidding on the hardwood floor in socks, carrying a half-eaten apple and a manila folder clutched under your arm. You stopped only when you slammed your hip into the arm of the couch, cursed like a sailor, and turned toward Bucky and Sam, who were mid-argument over the definition of “strategically retreating” versus “panicked running.”

You jabbed a finger toward Bucky. “You. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Bucky blinked. Slowly. The kind of slow blink that cats do right before they knock something expensive off a shelf.

“…What?”

You huffed, flopping onto the couch with the elegance of a sack of laundry. “Pretend. Fake. Boyfriend. You know, dates me publicly, stares longingly, pretends we don’t argue about whether a raccoon counts as a support animal. But just for optics. For this mission.”

Sam, ever the instigator, leaned forward. “Hold on. Pretend? Aren’t you two already dating?”

Bucky tilted his head at you. “We are.”

“Yeah, but this is officially pretending,” You said, popping a bite of apple into your mouth. “Different rules. Different tone. Different labels. Think press photos. Think glamorous lies. Think… public hand-holding and threats whispered into wine glasses at galas.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to reach for his earpiece and call in an extraction. “Why. Why are we pretending to date when we already are dating?”

You lifted your folder with the air of a magician revealing a disappearing dove. “Because I may have flirted with a Latvian arms dealer during recon to get information. Like. A lot. A lot a lot. And when he started asking about long-term mutual interests and a Mediterranean retirement plan, I panicked and told him I was in a very serious, emotionally fulfilling relationship with someone who could bench press a car.”

Sam laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch.

Bucky was just staring at you. Dead-eyed. Processing.

“I am in a serious relationship with someone who can bench press a car,” You offered with a too-bright smile. “It’s not a lie. It’s just… espionage-adjacent truth.”

He sighed, deeply. The sigh of a man who has fought Hydra, fallen off trains, and still somehow finds your schemes to be the most emotionally draining part of his life.

“So you want me to go on a mission pretending to be your boyfriend… even though I am your boyfriend… so some crime guy doesn’t try to date you again?”

“Exactly!”

“…and if I say no?”

You stared at him with wide, sparkling eyes. “Then I’ll ask Steve to do it.”

Sam immediately yelled, “I’ll help you pack, Bucky.”

Bucky groaned, dragged a hand down his face, and dropped his head back against the couch.

“Fine,” He muttered.

You clapped like a game show host. “YES. Operation ‘Fake But Emotionally Real Affection in Front of Murderous Europeans’ is a go!”

“Don’t ever name our missions again.”

-

The gala was being held in a baroque palace outside Bucharest, all gold trim and cold marble, filled with people who had enough money and ego to consider international arms dealing a viable retirement plan. The kind of place where secrets lived in the space between champagne flutes and symphony strings.

You had chosen your outfit with care which meant you walked out of the hotel bathroom in a black revealing dress paired with a hoodie, looking like a Wall Street vampire who’d gone rogue.

Bucky stared. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

You looked down. “This is fashion.”

“It’s something.”

You grinned and handed him a velvet box. “Relax. You get a tie. That’s your emotional support weapon.”

“I’d rather bring a gun.”

“Too bad. This mission is intimacy-based.”

Bucky sighed and muttered something about how the mission briefing hadn’t included any of this. But he put on the tie.

Because of course he did.

The ballroom shimmered under chandeliers the size of pickup trucks, and the crowd moved like a school of piranhas in tailored silk. You had ditched the hoodie when you got there and clung to Bucky’s arm like you were trying to make everyone jealous which you were.

“Okay,” You whispered, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “There’s our guy. Latvian, evil, suspiciously good skin for a forty-something international criminal. I’m going to need you to radiate ‘she’s mine’ energy.”

“I already radiate that energy.”

“Yeah, but like, turn it up. Let your murder eyes do the talking.”

“My what.”

You pulled him down slightly and whispered, “Look like you’ve killed people for me, and would do it again. But like… hot.”

He stared at you.

You winked.

“God help me,” He muttered, and kissed your cheek with the kind of deadly gentleness that sent a clear message to anyone watching: this was not a man to be trifled with.

And sure enough, Latvian Arms Dealer #472 (you never remembered their names, just their eyebrow situation) saw it. His jaw tightened, his eyes flicked to Bucky’s hand around your waist, and he nodded once, sharply, like he’d just lost a negotiation no one else was privy to.

You leaned into Bucky’s side, keeping your voice low. “You’re doing amazing. I think he’s about to go cry into his vodka.”

“I still don’t understand how this is a mission.”

“I stole a USB drive from his briefcase while you were glaring at him.”

Bucky choked on his champagne. “What?”

“I used the ‘bend over to fix my heel’ classic. He was not expecting sleight-of-hand and a perfectly-arched spine.”

Bucky looked up with a sigh. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“And yet,” You said, looping your arm through his and pressing a kiss to his jaw, “You’re in too deep to walk away.”

He wanted to argue. He really did. But then you looked at him, eyes bright with mischief and moonlight, so alive it hurt a little.

And instead of a lecture, he just sighed.

“I’m telling Steve you did this.”

“He’ll be so proud of me,” You whispered smugly.

-

After the mission, the hotel room door hadn’t even shut behind you before Bucky was tugging off the tie like it had tried to personally ruin his life.

He tossed it onto a chair like it owed him money. “Never again.”

You kicked off your shoes with a relieved sigh and flopped face-first onto the bed with all the grace of a tranquilized goat. “You did amazing, babe. The way you death-glared at that arms dealer? Sizzling. If I weren’t already dating you, I’d be legally obligated to try.”

“I still don’t understand how that was the mission.” He started unbuttoning his shirt, throwing glares toward you between motions. “You flirted with him for three days straight, and I’m the one who had to threaten him with my eyes.”

You rolled onto your back, propping yourself on your elbows. “Okay, first of all? I flirted for intel. Second of all? My eyes are way too charming to be threatening. Yours are basically a warning label.”

Bucky turned toward you, now shirtless and already halfway toward a full post-mission rant. “And what was that move on the dance floor? Spinning under my arm and then dipping me?”

“I was improvising,” You said, completely unapologetic. “You’ve got to keep the enemy and your emotionally stable, suspiciously hot boyfriend on their toes.”

He dragged a hand down his face and collapsed on the bed beside you, staring at the ceiling like maybe it held answers. Or perhaps a portal to a dimension where you came with an instruction manual.

After a few seconds, you nudged his arm with yours. “Hey.”

He gave a grunt that was probably meant to mean what.

You turned your head to look at him, eyes mischievous but a little softer now. “You were incredible tonight. And not just in the threatening murder-y boyfriend way. You… you made it look real. Like the kind of real that even I forgot wasn’t part of the job.”

His expression shifted, just slightly. A muscle in his jaw tensed, then relaxed. “That’s because it wasn’t fake for me.”

You blinked. Slowly.

Bucky didn’t look away, voice low and steady. “I didn’t have to pretend. I wasn’t acting. Holding your hand, kissing you, standing next to you like I’d level the entire building if someone looked at you wrong? That’s just me.”

There was a long silence.

You sat up a little. “So you’re saying your threats were from the heart.”

“Absolutely,” He said, deadpan. “A real romantic.”

You laughed, then bit your lip because beneath the teasing, your chest was starting to ache in that warm, tight way it always did when he said something like this. Honest. Unfiltered. Quietly devastating.

“…You really didn’t mind it?” You asked, gentler now. “Being in the spotlight like that? Having to do the whole fake PDA spy-lovers thing in front of fifty potential war criminals?”

“I’d do it again,” He said, shrugging. “I mean, I’d rather not wear a tie. Or waltz in front of a crowd. Or drink champagne I’m 90% sure was drugged.”

“Bucky-“

“But if it means being with you- really with you, I’ll show up. Every time. Even if it’s fake. Even if it’s chaos. Even if I have to pretend.”

You blinked hard and let your head drop onto his chest, burying your face against his skin.

“You’re gonna make me fall in love with you all over again, you bastard.”

He smirked, hand coming up to run through your hair. “Good. You need a reminder sometimes.”

You muttered something into his chest that sounded suspiciously like, “I can’t believe I’m dating an actual heartthrob.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe I’m dating a raccoon with a genius IQ and no self-preservation instinct.”

You grinned. “Soulmates.”

“Unfortunately.”

[redeemed-wren]

Classic Who explores ideas, New Who explores morals

classic who is like 'i see this trend, lets explore what might happen if that trend continues and let the audience figure out what it's talking about and come to their own conclusions.'

new who is like 'this trend is BAD and i'm going to PREACH A SPEECH about why it's going to RUIN EVERYTHING' and it's so much more exhausting

[ilovolderman]

Almost Caught

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You sneak out with Bucky for a secret date and almost get caught.

Word Count: 723

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, lying to friends (for romance reasons!)

A/N: this is kind of a sequel to "you said what?" — it’s the same vibe, same chaotic energy, but it can totally be read on its own! just think of it as part of the same soft universe 💕 hope you enjoy this <3

You never thought your most romantic date would start with crawling out of a window and jumping two stories down into Bucky’s arms—right behind the dumpsters.

“I can’t believe this is how we have to go out,” you whisper, pulling your hoodie tighter.

Bucky grins at you, eyes sparkling. “Come on. You love the danger. Sneaking out like spies.”

You roll your eyes— but he’s right. You do kind of love it. Especially when he leans in and kisses you, right there in the alley, his hand cupping your jaw like you’re the best thing he’s ever held.

The two of you walk a few blocks, laughing quietly, until you reach the rooftop of an old bakery. It’s not fancy, but it’s cozy. Your spot. The stars are out tonight, the sky clear and dark, and it feels like something out of a dream.

Bucky opens a bag he brought with him. “Ta-da.”

You peek inside. Burgers. Fries. Milkshakes. From that place you both secretly love, Cheesy Billy’s Burgers, but refuse to tell the team about, because Tony called it culinary war crime once.

You sit side by side, your legs swinging over the edge of the roof. You eat, you talk, and you laugh so hard you almost choke on your soda. Bucky watches you with that soft look of his, like you’re the most important thing in the universe. Like the stars are nice, sure—but not better than you.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, “if we didn’t have to sneak around like teenagers—”

“We’d still come here,” you say, nudging his foot with yours. “This is our spot.”

He smiles and leans closer. “Yeah. Our spot.”

And he kisses you. Soft, slow, perfect. The kind that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Then—

You hear voices below. Familiar ones.

“Wait—this is where they get the good fries?” Sam says. “Why have we never been here?”

You both freeze.

You slowly peek over the edge of the roof. Sam and Peter are standing below, staring at the bakery’s glowing sign.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “We’re gonna get caught. On our date night. While eating greasy fries.”

Bucky’s already stuffing fries in his mouth. “I’m not giving these up.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious right now?!”

“I have priorities,” he mumbles around a fry.

You both scramble to hide. Bucky throws his hoodie over your head like a blanket and pulls you into the shadows. You’re both giggling, trying to be quiet. Bucky looks like he’s having the time of his life.

Below, Sam looks up for a second, squinting. “…Did you hear something?”

Peter shrugs. “Maybe a raccoon?”

You whisper, “We are the raccoons.”

Somehow, you manage to escape without being seen.

Back at the compound, breathless and laughing in the hallway, Bucky presses you against the wall and kisses you again.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “I’m buying us disguises.”

“…Like wigs?”

He grins. “I was thinking matching mustaches.”

You snort-laugh so hard, someone passing by stares at you suspiciously.

In the next morning , you’re minding your business in the common room, nursing a coffee, when you hear “Yo, Bucky… since when do you eat at Cheesy Billy’s Burgers?”

Your stomach drops.

You turn just in time to see Sam waving a greasy, crumpled receipt like it’s evidence in a murder case.

“Found this in your jacket pocket, man. Thought you hated that place.”

Bucky blinks. Looks at you. Then back at Sam.

“I… don’t remember going there.”

Classic.

Natasha, from the couch “Wasn’t that the night you said you were doing recon?”

Tony walks in with a mug. “Wait, wait—Bucky Barnes ordered a Double Cheesezilla with extra onion rings and a milkshake. Who are you?”

You’re biting your lip so hard trying not to laugh, you might bleed. Bucky looks at you, then back at them, completely straight-faced.

“Maybe it was Steve’s jacket?” Bucky offers. “Old jacket. Probably Steve.”

Steve, walking by “What?”

“Nothing.” Bucky blurts.

Later, in the hallway, you tackle him into a storage closet and whisper, “You kept the receipt?!”

“You said it was the best burger you’d ever had. I panicked and wanted to remember the order.”

Your heart melts. “You’re unbelievable.”

He shrugs, grinning. “You love me.”

You kiss him, just once. “Unfortunately, yes.”

A/N: i wrote a part 3 about them. if you want to check it out here it is <3

[be-xkyy]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟-𝑖𝑛-𝑙𝑎𝑤

Warning: Smut, infidelity to a third party, violence, pregnancy, mentions of murder, feelings of guilt, children mentioned.

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Masterlist

Yandere brother-in-law who has known you since you, him, and his younger brother (by two years) were teenagers (he hates his brother since everyone preferred him for being a "good boy").

Yandere brother-in-law who was (is) in love with you since you were teenagers as was his brother (but thinks he has more right to you because he met you first).

Yandere brother-in-law who was in a relationship with you in his youth (friends with benefits) he thought you two would end up getting married someday (that didn't happen).

Yandere brother-in-law who was shocked when one day his brother brought you home hand in hand and announced that you were dating and planning to get married when his brother finished college.

Yandere brother-in-law who took advantage of the moment when you apologized and went to the bathroom and followed you and abruptly entered the bathroom, ignoring your surprised look and your complaints that it was inappropriate and that he should get out of the bathroom.

Yandere brother-in-law grabs you tightly by the arms and angrily demands, “What the hell are you doing?! What the hell is this about you marrying my damn brother?! Huh?!” The vein in his forehead is throbbing, his jaw is clenched; he's furious.

Yandere brother-in-law who squeezes you even harder (bordering on painful) when you tell him “You and I are too chaotic together, I need someone reliable in my life who's a safe bet for the long term” he ends up fucking you roughly in the bathroom sink when you walk down the stairs your legs are shaking and his warm seed is deep inside you, you smile nervously at your boyfriend and his parents.

Yandere brother-in-law who keeps fucking you even after you married his brother, it was inevitable since you couldn't be without each other for too long, he convinced his brother to stay and live at his parents' house and your husband accepted (he's really dumb).

Yandere brother-in-law who even ten years later is still your lover under a tense coexistence in the family home, you have two wonderful children and he is a proud uncle (cough father) who wants to always be with his nephews.

Yandere brother-in-law who uses any opportunity to get intimate and physical with you even going as far as pretending to be sick just to skip work and stay home while your kids go to school and your husband goes to work which always ends up with you and him having sex (especially when he's jealous when he sees you with his brother)

Yandere brother-in-law who can never take you seriously when you tell him your relationship needs to end and what you two are doing is wrong he laughs when you say his brother is a good man and doesn't deserve this and blah blah blah... he really can't take you seriously especially when you're pregnant with another one of his babies and you moan so beautifully beneath him.

Your high-pitched moans fill the room along with the wet sound of slapping. He gives you firm thrusts that make you roll your eyes back in your head. He has you tight in a mating hold, your legs brushing against your ears as his fat cock hits all of your sweet spots inside your pussy.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks on the hot skin; you hear his distorted voice, but you can't understand what he says, too drowned in pleasure. slap. The sudden slap he gives you on the cheek brings you out of your daze; an “uh?” escapes your lips, and you look at him with cloudy eyes.

He rolls his eyes and lets out a snort while still thrusting into you; he hits your forehead with his finger and asks slowly as if you were too dumb to understand his words. “I asked you, what the fuck do you mean by that you want us to end? Answer me!” You gulp and try to formulate a coherent response, although it's difficult when the delicious feeling of his cock going in and out of your pussy makes you dizzy. You barely manage to mumble.

“Gabriel—I just—I feel bad for my husband—he's so good... and I do this to him— I'm a bad person...”

Gabriel chuckles darkly and pushes your legs lower, almost touching the mattress. The new position allows more of his cock to slide inside me in every crease and hollow. He takes my chin in his hand and says in a mocking coo, “You're not a bad person, darling; you're just a cheating whore addicted to her brother-in-law cock, but I like you like that. Even if you're a slut, don't worry.” A pitiful whimper escapes my swollen lips at his words; your chest burns with shame.

“But I am a bad person, and your poor repentant attitude is starting to tire me out. Why don't you just admit that you made a mistake by marrying my stupid brother? Admit that you should have married me.” He says with a growl, his sharp eyes stare into mine waiting for an answer, and I can't do anything but close my eyes, not wanting to answer the obvious.

He frowns at your stubborn refusal, his fingers tighten their grip on your legs, and he says, “You don't want to talk? Fine. I'll make sure that when I'm done with you, you can't talk or think about anything but me.”

A few hours later, Gabriel looks at your sleeping form, your sweaty body, and your thighs stained with a mixture of your juices and his semen; you fell asleep quickly after his assault. His eyes travel to your slightly swollen belly with his son, HIS SON, he reaches out his hand and traces the outline of your stomach then leans down placing a kiss above your navel and murmurs as if it were a secret.

“Don't worry, my son, Dad will fix this shitty situation and take his rightful place. You must be strong because Mom will be sad when she finds out about my brother's death, but I will make it up to her... I promise.”

[dreamlandbarnes]

f1 fic recs

a compilation of all the fics i've been reading in the f1 rpf tag on ao3! please leave comments and kudos for the authors, and check the tags before reading. sorted by pairing, and summary and word count are provided. none of these fics are mine.

if your fic is on here and you want it removed, please let me know!

part 2

charles leclerc / max verstappen

bloodsport by 140445 | 37,711 words | M

“I don’t care about then, you are here now,” Charles says. “You are on my side now.” Max is on his side. It’ll feel like that, too, at some point. Surely. Or: Max and Charles as teammates for the 24 hours of Le Mans.

such murderous and vengeful desire by foggystars | 20,676 words | E

Where Carlos’ girlfriend has her fingers crossed, keeps covering her eyes as if she can’t bear to watch, Max is focused, mouth set in a hard line. He’s leaning in, balancing on the edge of his seat. To anybody else he looks intent, focused on the screen. To Charles, he looks like a bird, poised to take wing. Like he’s about to fly right through the screen and take the steering wheel from Charles’ clumsy hands, get in there and drive the car himself. When Max Verstappen suffers a career ending injury, he pours all his effort into turning his old rival, Charles Leclerc, into a worthy champion. Five years and two world championships later, they finally decide to talk about it.

like in love with me by linearity | 7,800 words | T

Austria 2019, a two-person house party, Abu Dhabi 2021, a silly lover’s quarrel, and a stove-side morning proposal.

Anonym by additiv | 13,971 words | E

The truth is, Max finds Charles unbelievably annoying. He’s chaotic and unpredictable. He’s staring at Max across the room one moment, and in the next, seems to have forgotten he exists. He swaps clothes with people at random, whipping off his faded Gucci t-shirt in the middle of the dance floor, to trade it for some girl’s crop top, laughing and crowding close to block the view of her body while they make the exchange. When he disappears to the bathroom, Max never knows whether he’ll reappear with glitter on his eyelids, or white powder on his nose. He flirts with every person in the room, and probably sleeps with them too. He ignores Max completely, then goes home with him. He’s always gone when Max wakes up; nothing left behind, nothing missing. He refuses to stay the night, but refuses to let Max get over him. And, he refuses to let Max know anything about him.

when you cut me open by triangularity (linearity) | 44,900 words | E

Well, Charles concedes, miserably. He did die last night. A few days staying with his vampire ex-boyfriend probably isn’t the worst thing he’ll have gone through in January.

a life in your shape by weiwuxian (BreathOfDream) | 29,431 words | E

“Oh god, not you,” Charles groans, crossing his arms on his chest. The Batman visibly rolls his eyes (blue, of course, because all men that messed with Charles’ life had that in common apparently) at his reaction, but another look at Charles makes him step closer. “Yes, always a pleasure. Are you ok?” or: 5 times both Max and the Batman makes Charles' life a lot more complicated than needed + 1 time he doesn't

Frecheit by additiv | 208,723 words | E

The first time that Max heard the name Charles Leclerc was in 2022, just after winning his first WDC. Maybe it only stuck because he heard it twice in one night; first as Leclerc was announced as the 2022 F3 champion. Second, as Helmut lamented not signing him to the Red Bull driver development program. Now, Max is ready to put the newly-promoted Ferrari driver in his place. The problem is, Leclerc seems to think his place is on the top step of the podium. And he is not playing by the rules. An age-difference fic, where they never got to work out their differences as kids. 3-time WDC Max's experience of being personally victimised by baby-Charles.

in dream by 140445 | 81,025 words | E

Charles tried to figure out the dream on his own. In the morning he sat down with a cup of coffee, trying to make sense of what he had seen—he even googled it. Surely, Charles couldn't be the first or only person to dream about someone he shouldn't. But there were no search results for my professional rival is suddenly also my soulmate or��soulmate dream of someone i'm not supposed to want???.  (In a world where soulmates identified each other by sharing a dream, Charles dreamt of the last person he expected.)

heart of the wind by pipitass | 13,830 words | M

There’s a slip of paper taped next to one of the doorbells — third floor, second door. It should, in theory, be the one directly across from his own. Max V. “Yes?” “Uh— hi.” He clears his throat. “It’s your neighbor. From across the street. Your, your clothes…” He doesn’t really know what to say after that. Hi, I got into a street fight with your bedsheets yesterday. Welcome to the neighborhood.

charles_leclerc ✔️ posted: 😘 by ninetqs | 11,500 words | M

Charles posts a photo with a mystery man and casually breaks the Internet in the process.

cameras in the traffic lights by c_e_1 | 9,958 words | M

Pop Crave @PopCrave • Aug 13 2023 Popstar Charles Leclerc has put his instagram on private after fans spotted Formula 1 driver Max Verstappen in the background of his vacation photos 303 comments | 1.6K retweets | 10K likes

(don't read) the last page by mintchocolatechip97 | 7,475 words | E

Max feels a light tap on his arm, and turns to see the beautiful door-opener, chestnut brown curls fluffed up on his head like he’s been running his hands through his hair. “I have been on a set a time or two,” the man says, trying and failing to wink, “but this is my first time in a writers room, so you are not the only rookie here.” He clearly speaks English fluently, but has a smidge of a European accent, which Max thinks might be French. “I’m sorry,” Max says, a little annoyed that this stranger is speaking to him as if they know each other, “I didn’t catch your name?” Several emotions flit over the man’s face, in such quick succession that Max can’t quite catch them all. In the end, he looks mortified. “Oh, I am so sorry,” he says, “This is going to sound terrible, like I am the worst kind of person, but I thought you would know who I was.” Dr. Max Verstappen gets hired as the expert medical consultant for a new Netflix show. Charles Leclerc, former teen heartthrob, stars.

all i know of love is hunger by 140445 | 28,509 words | E

Anger flares in Charles’ chest. Not the kind that he feels in the car, when he’s on Max’s tail, when they are braking late and later. The one that’s been looming over his head ever since Max announced his retirement. The one he hasn’t been able to tame until now, until he can give it a name. Betrayal.

hollywood and highland by japrufrocks | 26,730 words | E

Max had left New York a week before Charles had, seven days exactly. Max had gone to Hollywood; Charles had gone to a hospital. Now they're starring in the same film. Hollywood gives its darlings everything. It takes everything too.

straight lines (that unwind you) by 140445 | 16,330 words | E

“Do you know him?” Arthur asks. “No,” Charles decides. Because he does not. He knows Max is a mathematics major, and that he plays chess. And that he hits the gym. And what he looks like when he comes. Details.

all to play for by linearity | 49,300 words | E

Charles Leclerc is not at Red Bull to win races. He is here to win championships.

my thoughts will echo your name by witchee_writer | 38,826 words | M

“Do you think you’ll ever want to do Le Mans one day?” asked Max, glancing sideways at the man sitting next to him. Charles’ eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face. “I think I want to win Le Mans one day.”

heart on your sleeve by nyoomfruits | 4,812 words | T

The thing about having a racing helmet that constantly displays your emotions for the whole world to see, is that you kind of get used to it after a while. These days Charles almost forgets it’s even a thing. Almost. But then he goes and falls in love.

ghost of you by nyoomfruits | 3,436 words | T

“All right, are you now finally ready to explain why four time world driver champion Charles Leclerc is currently in my living room?” Max says, as Charles towels off his hair. Charles pauses, lets the towel fall into his lap, stares at Max with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say four time?”

The HR Situation by thearchercore | 3,027 words | Gen

Jacob found out many things during his first month in the new HR role - Mary and Connor from Aero Engineering were dating. Thomas and Nick from Comms got recently divorced and it's a sensitive subject. Eddie from Legal had to go to an Anger Management class but hasn't had any issues since his return. Oh, and also - Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc were fucking weird about each other. or: Charles and Max go to Mercedes and the HR Department is in shambles.

Sawtooth by nottonyharrison | 40,305 words | E

In another universe, Max rejected karting at the age of fifteen, no longer prepared to be a proxy for his father’s dream. He moved back to Belgium to live with his mum and sister, excelled at school, and eventually went on to complete a Masters of Mechanical Engineering. Now 27, after four years working for Alfa Romeo and Sauber, first as a junior performance engineer and then on the pit wall for Zhou Guanyu, he’s put forward for a job with Ferrari when Carlos Sainz is left without a race engineer thanks to the increasingly hectic F1 schedule. The problem is, Max has a crush on Carlos’ teammate. A huge, obvious, embarrassing crush that leaves him stumbling for words, face burning every time he’s within six feet of the guy. What makes it even worse is that sometimes he’s sure that Charles is looking right back.

leminiscate by weiwuxian (BreathofDream) | 27,799 words | E

Charles tries to imagine Max, on the opposite side of the kitchen. Eating bread too, like he did that first morning of the After—gross and charming. Tries to think about the way he would hold him, maybe. Of the softness of his lips, glossed by butter; and how he would laugh and push him away. His phone dings and he blinks himself awake once again.

achilles comes down by sincerelylancelot | 21,068 words | M

The World Championship trophy rests in his trembling hands, his name etched in fine gold. It isn't until he's staring down at it—his name nestled close to Max’s—that he realises his dreams have always been carved out of someone else’s pain. Jules. Max. And now, maybe even himself.

charles leclerc / carlos sainz jr

a bad recompense for your love by steviethenarwhal | 65,162 words | M

“I do not want to date you,” Charles says. Carlos’s eyes slide warily over to him. He tries to explain. “I do not date men. It would be… not smart.” “I don’t want to date you either,” Carlos says. “I do not date racecar drivers.”

translation theory by linearity | 9,500 words | E

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s golden boy, their Il Predestinato. He likes it up the ass and likes getting fucked by rockstars who have more tattoos than thoughts in their brains. What a fucking joke.

semiotic study by linearity | 8,600 words | E

Carlos knows. He knows what this is and what this is not. This is not romance, this is not love, but Charles makes it so easy to slip into that illusion. Charles makes it so hard, and Carlos cannot be without.

last night by venerat | 24,259 words | E

Rule #1: When you go to America, don't lose your virginity to your best friend's roommate. Charles fails Rule #1.

Good Boy by chiliconcarlos | 8,445 words | E

Really, it’s all Alex’s fault. ~~ Or: the one where Charles and Carlos want to settle the question of who's better in bed.

at the dinner table with god and my father by Cloudcollector | 4,599 words | M

There is a table in his house that knows more about him than his father. Or, Carlos and his father. And the family dinner table through the years.

win or lose (it's how you play the game) by chiliconcarlos | 18,321 words | E

It all starts because of a stupid bet.   Or: Carlos suggests a hickey bet for their '23 season, and it goes about how you'd expect.

darling by magnificentbirb | 6,579 words | T

The pet names begin as a joke.

carlos sainz jr / oscar piastri

take it or leave it by venerat | 6,771 words | E

r/relationships: My (22M) coworker (29M) keeps irritating me at work

he just turned in like i didn't exist by linearity | 36,500 words | E

Oscar doesn’t have a problem with his soulmate. It’s his soulmate who has the fucking problem.

Happy Death Race by powerfulowl (playmyace) | 28,390 words | E

Carlos gazes up at the fake blue sky. Dopey grin, contrapposto pose, head as empty as the cottony clouds above. “Look, look. Look, Piastri. It is always daylight.” Oscar imagines pushing him into the piss water canal. "Yeah, cool. Stop dying!" (Oscar is in a time loop and Carlos won't stop dying.)

when both our cars collide by buildyourfences | 8,483 words | M

It’s race day, which means his phone shouldn’t be ringing. And yet, it is. “Carlos, why are you not at the track yet? We are waiting for you.” “But–” “I sent you the updated schedule last night, please get here as soon as possible.” The call ends. He blinks down at the phone in his hand. Friday, March 1. Well, that’s not right. Carlos is trapped in a time loop. He can't stop crashing with Oscar.

at a constant speed by wisteriagoesvroom (bobaheadshark) | 11,676 words | E

“Are you close?” Oscar asks. “What does it look like?” “I wasn’t expecting it to be, uh, so…” What? Oscar wants to add. Hot? Desperate? Pathetic? All of the above? --- Or, carcar get themselves into a situationship, and it just keeps situating.

left a calling card so they would know that it was me by xxxdeerlordxxx | 6,139 words | E

Carlos continues to sit there, in the cockpit with his back to the wall, pieces of the torn advertisements raining down on him. He can see a big screen from where he’s at, the replays they show over and over, of Carlos spinning out, of Oscar driving away from the incident like nothing happened. Because of course no one believes him. But Carlos knows that Oscar’s to blame. Just not in the way people might think.

hatred cradles you by foggystars | 6,829 words | E

“You see?” Carlos asks, hanging up the phone. “He does not pick up.” Oscar shrugs, unsure why Carlos seems to think this is his problem. Just because Oscar’s his teammate doesn’t mean he knows where Lando is at all times, like some sort of twink-seeking missile. Then Carlos says, “I wait for him in here,” and nods to himself. He’s walking into Oscar’s hotel room before he can stop him, and all Oscar can do is blink stupidly at the empty stretch of hallway where Carlos once stood.

in midnight’s jaws by Springsteen | 30,806 words | E

Werewolves are fiction, the stuff of books and movies just like witches and zombies. Men do not turn into wolves, or fly on broomsticks, or raise the dead. There must be a logical explanation for the restlessness in Carlos's blood, for the waves of pain so sudden and intense it feels as though his bones are trying to break free of his body. Surely there is a perfectly good reason for Carlos to have woken in the dirt the morning after a full moon, with no idea where he is or how he got there. And surely there was a reason he turned to Oscar Piastri, of all people, for help.

pulling teeth by arboretics | 9,030 words | Not Rated

Oscar is very private, very in control. Carlos pretends he is both of those things, too. But after a late night collision in Baku 2024, things spiral between them into something straddling a game and an uncomfortable intimacy. A year on, Oscar and Lando are battling for the championship, Carlos is fighting for low points finishes, and Oscar loses his grip on the whole situation.

the better half of a good time by antimonyandthyme | 4,413 words | E

“Most guys, they look at the date.” He manages to make it sound both admiring and chiding. Oscar is very quickly losing control of this conversation. “Do you make a habit of just giving your license out? To every stranger you meet?” “Only those I really like.”

reckless attention by crescenteluce | 4,290 words | E

It’s probably on Oscar to be the bigger person here, to tell Carlos if he can’t do it sober, he shouldn’t be doing it at all. But that’s the thing about Carlos – he doesn’t exactly inspire Oscar to be the best version of himself.

george russell / max verstappen

winning mentality by linearity | 18,500 words | E

It’s not, like, a thing. It’s only happened twice, if you don’t count the time during the pre-season when Max shoved a thigh against George’s crotch, and George, touched-deprived and broken-hearted, let out a sharp gasp and came instantly. Max, looking shocked and frightened, stormed away.

cut your teeth by 140445 | 9,224 words | E

And that is the thing that brought George here. Eat or be eaten. It’ll happen either way. Maybe here, he will like the taste.

full throttle by calenmirel | 3,397 words | E

Later, Max will turn to him, meeting his gaze head on, and ask if George truly hadn’t seen him in his mirrors at turn eight, like George had claimed. He'll rub his hands on his racesuit as he says it, like he'll be rid of the phantom feeling of George's hair from between his fingers if he wipes them hard enough. George will look back at him, licking the taste of Max from the back of his teeth like he can savour it, and will reply, “of course I didn’t,” lying through his smile.

alexander albon / george russell

a feeling all brand new by ginnydear | 16,481 words | M

Alex is halfway through his sandwich when he starts to feel talkative, so he takes a sip of his tea and waits for Logan to finish chewing before he says what’s running through his mind at full speed. “I think I’m homophobic.”

nothing but teeth by crescenteluce | 25,057 words | E

“Oh, come on.” Alex says, poking George in the thigh again with his foot. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done a little-” Alex makes a complicated hand-wavy gesture that has the contents of his glass nearly sloshing over the sides. “At your fancy boy schools, a little stiff upper-lipped make-out amongst the chaps? In between rounds of cricket and fox hunting?”

carlos sainz jr / max verstappen

ease the madness by magnificentbirb | 12,231 words | M

Max signed away his soul on his sixteenth birthday.

pierre gasly / charles leclerc

a long time (maybe forever) by strongestavenger | 10,021 words | T

AITA: homophobic but only to my roommate/best friend? First of all, I swear I have never been a discriminatory person – I have lots of gay friends and my little brother is bisexual. I know that sounds stupid as hell but it’s my only defense right now. My problem is that I (Marc, 26M, straight) have a roommate (Jacques, 28M, gay), who has also been my best friend since we were kids, and I think I’ve started to feel homophobic towards him? (or: Charles needs some outside help to figure things out.)

miscellaneous / general / multi

One thousand laps of jeddah by in_in_in_in_in_in_in | 68,585 words | Gen

George feels sick for the whole ride to the track. He has no idea how he got from breakfast to the car, let alone how he shook off Alex. He knows that he said ‘for god’s sake, Alex, I’m not on drugs’ about a hundred times, even though he’s not at all sure that it’s the truth. What else could have happened to him? Did he dream the race last night?

eat them alive by linearity | 57,000 words | E

Oscar lost Lando a championship and left McLaren. There was still a year in between.

the condominium community committee by jusst_you_wait | 36,452 words | T

the condominium community - 2:36pm Oscar and Logan have been added to the chat George Hello, welcome to a group chat we have for the Formula apartment building! There are only 18 (20 now) of us so we like to keep in contact about the building maintenance and other neighbourly orders of business. I’m George, and I liaise with the building manager on behalf of all of us when there is a building specific issue rather than an apartment issue. Welcome to the building! Lando do u copy and paste that from ur notes every time Alex I bet he has it memorised ~ or, the ridiculous chat fic where the f1 grid all live in the same apartment building

temperature get to you by minieggs11 | 9,339 words | E

It’s Logan’s last ride of the night, it’s clearly two drunk tourists going back to their hotel. As long as they give him a five star rating, he doesn’t care what happens.

sugar and spice by pipitass | 10,785 words | E

“Do you know already? Who you’ll pick?” Oscar frowns. Eyes still closed, scrunched now. Sharp brows downturned, meeting in the middle of his face. “When you win.” The frown deepens for a second. Then his face releases, and he shrugs. Shuffles as he goes to lay down, kicking his shoes off before he brings them up so his toes are poking at Max’s thigh, settling in. “Someone nice.”

triple header by 140445 | 7,890 words | E

Because Oscar isn’t here with Charles. And he’s not here with Max. He doesn’t get it, this thing between Max and Charles. They look like they’re here together, share glances that make Oscar feel like an intruder—but Max brought Oscar back to the booth to sit with them. For Charles to flirt with him. As if it’s some kind of game, where Max brings back prey for Charles to take.

somebody else by piastrism | 31,252 words | E

Oscar misses the color lilac — the color of the twilight sky behind Charles as they drank wine on Sedici, and the long-faded color left behind on his hips by Max’s fingertips.

we'll take the shadows (since the limelight isn't ours) by magnificentbirb | 2,177 words | T

Lando hears the screech of tires on asphalt behind him, the distant crunch of carbon fiber colliding with a wall. He glimpses only the aftermath of the carnage—the dust and smoke, the flashing lights, the unmistakable gleam of bright red—and then he’s clear. And that’s when the seconds slow down.

possessed by light by Anonymous | 6,885 words | Gen

It is a lesson you learn alone. Or that you are supposed to learn alone. At some point you will look at yourself in the mirror and see not just flesh and blood. You will see the capabilities beyond that. You will see your body as a ladder to forever ascend, to always want more. You will see just what you’re made of—and you will realise it has to be used. You will learn not to waste it. Charles did not learn that on his own.

[cavegirlpoems]

A story from back when I played D&D. It might have been 3.5 or pathfinder or fantasycraft or one of that ilk. Might even have been 4e. It was like a decade ago.

So. Standard D&D. A party of bold adventurers of diverse origins and skillsets gets together to explore a perilous dungeon and stop a cartoonish baddy. The usual.

I end up building a fairly typical character for me. A goblin Rogue/Assassin. A stealth/melee build designed to get the drop on an enemy, do a bunch of rapid damage, and then fuck off.

She was lawful evil, and firmly in the team-fortress-two-sniper school of "You know who has a lot of feelings? Men what bludgeon their wives to death with a golf trophy. Professionals have standards." school of being a mercenary. I think I even did an aussie accent.

Anyway her schtick was that she'd noticed 'Adventurers' got to do as much violence as they wanted without social consequences, and she loved violence! So she was gonna do a stint as an adventurer, so once she was done she could go home with a big sack of gold to spend on booze and cake and hot girls. But right now she was on the job, so she was an extremely professional team player with a strict code of conduct. Always be honest with the team, follow the plan, don't mess things up for the team, split the loot evenly. Standards.

Verna was a horrible efficient little murder gremlin who was also proudly guild-certified. * * *

Now, another PC was a chaotic neutral gnome bard who was leaning hard on the 'gnomes are amusingly racist to goblins and kobolds and think this is funny and endearing' thing. He teased Verna a bunch about being green and ugly, which she studiously ignored because - remember - she had Professional Standards.

Anyway, there was a human NPC we met that she didn't like, saying he was a bit stupid and very annoying. Our gnome bard decided it would be very funny to use one of his enchantment spells to make Verna suddenly horny for him and watch what happened.

Verna sees the gnome who keeps fucking with her walk up, wave his hands and babble some arcane nonsense, and now she has weird funny feelings she can't explain. She does some thinking and concludes that she'll pay the human for a snog later, because right now this guy's just obviously cast a spell to mess with her mind, which was Not Okay. Of course, she had Professional Standards, so...

She walks up to our gnome friend and basically informs him: "Hi! I know you just did some magical brainwashing on me, and I am not going to tolerate this! However, because we're in a team together, and I don't want this to become a problem, I am going to very generously allow you to settle the matter with me. We will have a bout of single combat to first blood, and then whoever wins I will consider the matter settled and my honour satisfied, and you won't do that again, and we won't mention it. This is a very kind offer of mine, because I have Standards; where I come from the normal response would be to say nothing and strangle you in your sleep tonight."

And our gnome, who is a spellcaster not a combatant, looks at this and decides he doesn't want to get shown up by her, and basically tells her that if she doesn't like getting messed with she can go back to the goblin village, and laughs at her.

So. Shrug. Quickdraw as a free action. I get a surprise round. You're flat footed, so it's easy to hit and I get sneak attack damage. 3/4 of his health is gone. Initiative. He says he wants to say sorry. I respond that he can say that when it gets to his initiative count, but right now it's my action and he's still flat-footed and here's my big pile of d6s for sneak attack and oh dear I think that's him on -10 hp, so he's not going to get the chance.

* * *

Anyway this kicked off a massive shitstorm ooc about how I just kicked off PvP and murdered a PC for no reason and the game fell apart because the gnome's player genuinely didn't seem to understand that 'mind control' is a hostile action. This was in the bad old days before safety tools and I was playing in a fairly neckbeardy group, so 'a man makes a woman horny against her will to humiliate her and laughs about it' was apparently not a deal-breaker while 'the woman stabs him for it' was.

I still think I wasn't the bad guy in this scenario.

There is no point to this story I just wanted to share it.

[maetersart]

A couple of ppl asked us about Astarion and Marrow's relationship, so here is some text to the last illustration with them. Or.. more precisely about the best part of it. For them

So... they're like two cats. Two gremlins. A beautiful elf and a bedside monster. The chemistry between them is passionate, chaotic and in many ways weird, and it's hard to call their relationship any kind of healthy thing — they're both traumatized and not perfect people. They argue, they fight, and then BAM!, they are in love again. They are freaks with questionable morals and views on life that unexpectedly resonate with each other, although everyone else thinks they're the normal ones here. Marrow absolutely accepts the vampire nature and pesonality of Astarion, and he calmly understands her durge side and wildness. Another murder, another body, another nightmare — it's okay, as long as he's not involved. And it can even be used. And Marrow uses him too

This leads to a deeper bond — they’re monsters who share a deep mutual passion and the ability to see humanity in each other, even when it seems there is nothing human left. And monsters don't always mean something bad, it's just their love is a bit, well, twisted: their relationship isn't about typical romance stuff, but filled with almost animal adoration and desire. Kind of a dark magnetism that would freak out (and for good reason) the average people. But here's the thing, they're totally okay with that. Neither Marrow nor Astarion are about to change themselves or pretend to be these so-called "normal people" — they're not relearning how to love the "right" way, they're learning to love in their own style

And of course none of them planned to really love each other. And no one thought about "true love". True love is hard stuff when one is a vampire ex-slave and the other — a Bhaal's daughter and a murderer. It all started with manipulation: Astarion was looking for someone who would save him from Cazador, while Marrow wanted someone to save her from herself (or should we say she didn't dare admitted it openly, but needed). Then something happened and they fell in love because they finally found someone who accepted them just as they are. Because the scars on their lives are so similar. And because baby, let's live in darkness and sin together because that's what we want, not because someone told us to

[amoristt]

the night falls like heaven || 2

part one (x)

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // hurt/comfort, mild sexual themes, mild violence, not as angsty as the first one lol, namgyu is a fake idgafer,

a/n: im so happy to get this final out UGH i do have one more small piece related to this mini series ( wink wink iykwim) that ill get posted asap! i hope you guys enjoy hehehe word count: 7.5k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

・❥・When you open your eyes on the dawn of the third day, the first thing you’re met with other than the ceiling is the hushed whispering of other players already awake. Chatter that grew by the minute, drowned out below you. 

Sitting up was a hassle for sore, sore muscles and aching bones that had been shaken to the very marrows. You remembered praying, staring up into the white tiles above, for god to give you an easier day than the last. 

You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the third game. Mingle was a monster bearing teeth and a gaping maw, biting and snarling and killing. Blind panic, grabbing hands and twisting fingers. Room after room watching the light in someone's eyes go out through the miniscule gap in the heavy doors. 

Almost every second of the game was spent in apprehensive terror, watching the room go round and round until you were dizzy between the colors and blood. The way fear had stricken you made it hard to focus on anything except numbers and faces, split second decisions that showed only the truest of nature, tailing the few people you’d grown acquainted with into rooms bathed in muted greens and oranges. 

Nam-gyu was nowhere to be seen- or perhaps you were just simply overlooking him, lost in the sea of moving bodies and swaying feet. 

Groups of six became five, and then four. One after the other, names of those you’d never gotten the chance to learn became grave markers. Four, and then three. 

Over the days, you’d grown quite close to a player who’d happened to choose the bed a couple feet from yours, the both of you chatting about the people scattered about the dormitories. He was a kind man with dark hair and even darker eyes that never seemed to feel untrustworthy. Normal enough, friendly enough. Quick to let you join his team during the six-legged race even though you’d found him with a sour expression and an ever more sour attitude. 

So when the number of players per room dropped to two, you jumped to grab his hand and yank him into a room. The least you could do, you think. He had been so kind when you kept messing up your minigame, managed to gather your confidence into the final try, you owed it to him to get him through his game. 

You threw a door open and let him jump inside. For just a second, all the chaotic cries were muffled through the thick walls. 

But only for a second. Because something true and powerful ripped you back by your tracksuit, dragged you right out from that room and sent you skittering on the floor feet away. The wind knocked from your lungs, the back of your head bouncing off the floor with a crack. Fireworks exploded behind your eyes, obscuring the scene before you, but not so much to miss a man slipping into the room after forcibly taking your place.

When you finally bring yourself to your feet and try to pry the door back open, you see your friend held back by that damned player all the way in the corner. 

“Run!” Your friend cries. No sound reaches you. “Run!”

The step back you took was shaky, your mind swimming, lost under the ocean. Heat flooded your skin, prickly and loud. Your heart was a thrashing beat, beat, beat, in your ears. 

Outcries and players beating on doors in the corners of your eyes. 

You were going to die. 

The first thing you think of, standing there frozen in place, watching your friend try in vain to free himself from the other player’s (your murderer’s) grip, was what death would be like. Doors slam shut, rooms occupied with poor souls clutching at the window trying to pry the doors open.

The player holding your friend back gave you sorry, sorry eyes despite it all. 

You hoped the afterlife would be kinder than this. 

And then, with seconds to live, you think of Nam-gyu. The time spent with him argues with the pit of hours spent wasted. Years of wondering and then days of having. It was never good for you, not really, but you loved him in a way that made you weak in the knees. And you missed him so, so deeply that when you’d locked eyes with him on day one there was this little part of you that hoped he did, too. 

Clearly, he did. And you fought against him like a bull, his hands tearing away on your horns, all anger and sneers. A piece of you rearing its head, an angry beast that would prickle at the very thought of his name. A suit of rage to hide away that broken hearted girl standing in the doorway, wishing he’d stop her. 

All that. Just to let him back in. 

If you had known this was the end, perhaps you would have let him prove himself.

You’re yanked to the side so intensely you almost drop to the ground like a stone through murky waters. Running, somehow, even though you couldn’t feel your legs. Everything is a blur of colors and flashing pinks, your brain’s gears have gone haywire and firing blanks in the disarray. When you’re getting your footing back, and your eyes have decided to process the sight before you, you’re drowned out in green covering every corner. 

Metallic thudding and muffled screams. You’re spun around on your heels so quickly it almost made you tip over all over again.

“Why the fuck were you just standing there?!” 

You hear his voice before you see his face. 

When you do, and Nam-gyu’s blocking that abhorrent neon light beating over your skin, it feels like all the gears have stopped. Tunnel vision, all else echoing away in chambers far forgotten. His hands drag from your shoulders to your face, tries to gather the bits of you scattered outside the room. 

“What’s going on with you, huh? Listen to me!”

He’s angry. Or, at least, he looks like it- sounds angry too. But the way his eyes are scanning you, searching you over in noticeable distress tells you otherwise. Fingers running through your hair, tips dancing through your locks until suddenly they nudge up against something so sharply sensitive that it makes you leap. He’s quick to stop you when you try to shove against his chest. 

“Hold still,” Fingers still searching, the palms flat against the sore spot you’d cracked against the hard floor. “You hit your head.”

Not angry, after all. Even the animosity in his tone has melted into something quieter. He draws back and checks his hands for blood. 

“I’m fine.” You have this idea to push Nam-gyu away from you. For some reason, you don’t. You lean into him. Maybe it’s because your head is still struggling to support your brain. Or, maybe, it’s because at that moment you were grappling with the reality that was him being one of your final thoughts. Again. 

Flirting with death was becoming a trend with a common denominator. 

You bury your face into his chest and let yourself feel protected for the first time in years. For a moment, Nam-gyu tenses. Unsure, disbelief. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was a gentle hum that vibrates against his chest, and sticky tears are dampening your water lines, lost in his tracksuit. Wakes him up, muscle memory wraps his arms around your body. You can’t hide the way you tremble like a leaf.

And you can’t hide the way he soothes it all out, rests his chin against the top of your head and lets you use him to find yourself in one piece.

You thank him again, even when he says not to. You thank him, and thank him, and thank him until the door unlocks and you follow him out like a braindead zombie. Pools of blood, now more than ever, are splattered along the floor. 

You see yourself among them.

Still a meandering zombie all the way back to the dormitories. The top bunks have all been taken down, marking the end of lives. There’s a pit in your stomach that only alleviates when you lock eyes with your friend- and this stupid grin explodes over your face when he realizes you lived. He’s across the room from you now, but he’s warm all the same. 

It takes a long time to find a new bed to call your own, but when you do, you hope laying down will help you with the thoughts rattling around in your skull. 

.

Hours later, you’re still drowning in thoughts. 

I do know you. That's exactly why I won’t be on your side. 

Your throat strickens. A million thoughts are bursting your brain at its very seams and spilling out from the cracks. Chatter is endless in the dormitory, but you loiter in uncanny silence. 

You know that I can’t stay with you. Never again. 

The extraordinary disdain so profound it had scared even you to hear it rolling off your tongue. Standing before you, ears flat and flickering tail tucked, an unending urge to control, Nam-gyu had been the very same man you’d deserted for all those years. But the core of you had been so blue it would frost to the very touch, sapphire walls of licking flame to keep anyone and anything out. Even as you found companionship in the presence of others, your mind called for him until you’d hushed it with an onslaught of terrible, terrible memories at his own hands. 

But then you almost died, ripping the cord back on your third attempt at the spinner, watching it tumble fruitlessly as your heart thudded in your ears. Finally getting it, and still barely passing the finish line with your lives intact. It rocked you- changed you, but only in the ways you didn’t notice right away. Walking back into that dormitory, frightened as rabbits before great jaws of teeth, the first thing you fancied yourself to see was him. 

You felt something real when you did- something forgotten and dusty creeping into the forefront of your mind. 

And then he went and saved your life during Mingle. 

Plucked you from the claws of death itself and dragged you into that washed out green-lit room, the colors hueing off your skin and glistening in his eyes when he grabbed your face to check on you. The distress of his expression, the red-hot regard for you to be in one piece, to be in his hold again after so long… It rewired something in your fuzzy brain. Clarity, or illusion, settled and fired echoing shots of previously snuffed out passion to life. 

Reminded you why you fell in love with him, why you never wanted to be without him. More specifically, why being his girlfriend, his one and only, was so important. 

You had known from the start that you were his. You knew it the first night he’d picked you up on his night off and drove you around the city, watching the lights sing in the hues of his eyes. You knew it when he crept into your apartment at a very whim after a long shift, particularly worn and falling into your bed with beautiful ease. 

You knew it the first time he kissed you, eager and fervent. And you knew it the first time you felt him inside of you. Heavy, filling, the perfect piece to all that you needed. 

At the end of the day, you knew it was always you and him- until that fact began to waver and fade, and you found that resolve cracking. Disappearing for weekends at a time, never returning a text or a call, until suddenly it was two in the morning and he was at your door, and you’d barely even get the chance to rub the sleep from your eyes before he was pushing you into the walls and stripping you down to your very bones. All teeth and grabbing hands and your voice chanting his name through the silence. 

A flame roaring so deep and red hot it scorched at the touch. 

It was such a small request, you felt- labels. Be mine, be mine, be mine so I may give myself entirely to you and trust the fall on the way down. You needed that reliability, you needed to know that he held you as you held him. And, lord, you had been so sure of yourself. Brought it up as you ran your fingers along his chest absently, exposed and naked and shimmering with the hazy afterglow of sex. 

No had caught you off guard so severely you had to ask him to repeat himself. The second time you heard it, it hit you like a cold bucket of water splashing overhead. Drenched, chilly down to your very bones. Air ripped from your lungs, mouth dry when he proceeded to laugh at you. 

“Be serious.” He’d chittered. “I’m too busy for all that.” 

Voice wavering, tears already threatening to build in your eyes as you spoke, I am serious. 

“Don’t be a bitch, okay?” Hands touching your naked sides, wrapping around you like slithering snakes threatening to drag your life from the confines of your skin. A touch that felt as slimy as his voice sounded. “We’re fine like this.”

“So what, you just want to fuck and call it a day, forever?”

Lips finding your neck. 

“Come on. You know I like you.” Licks up your jugular, doesn't notice the way you aren’t shivering at the feeling, locked up. 

“If you like me then be my boyfriend.” His ceiling was mundane, void of anything particularly eye-catching, but you couldn’t tear your gaze off.

“I’m busy.”

“…Not too busy for sex, though.”

He pulled back to look at you, this growing sneer on his lips. “What’s gotten into you, huh?”

“Come on, is it really so bad? Being my boyfriend?” You sweetened, tried to soften him. “I just wanna hear you say it, y’know?”

Nam-gyu had tensed at the word the first time, and he did just as well the second time around. Prickles at every word. 

“We’re not fucking-” He gets up and you’re cold, and you’re heart broken and there’s rage simmering somewhere in your belly. “What we have is fine. Don’t complain about shit.”

“Seriously Nam-gyu? You show up and you fuck me and but that’s all you want out of life?” When he doesn’t answer, that simmering rage bubbles into more, swinging your legs from around his bed and bringing yourself to your unsteady feet. “Tch. Fine. Forget about it. ‘Too busy’. God’s sake- If you’re too fucking busy have you considered working a little less?”

Nam-gyu’s jaw tenses and he scoffs, climbs out of bed and passes you right by to throw himself limply onto the couch. 

“Can you chill? How about you focus on you and I’ll focus on me, yeah?”

You took all of five minutes to throw your clothes on and find yourself running down the halls of his apartment. All you bore was your clothes, your phone, and your dignity. Rest be damned, scrambling to get to the privacy of your home with eyes so blurred with tears you almost didn’t make it. 

Months and months to scrub him from your body, even longer for the weight of his presence to go unnoticed in your mind. Even longer to stop seeing him in your dreams, and feeling your heart flutter with every knock at the door. 

You should hate him, still. 

But oh god, you can’t.

And oh god, the way he looked at you in that room, all hands clutching and grabbing and touching you so gingerly you wonder if you’d died somehow, after all. In that moment you wondered how he could ever hurt you at all. Beautiful and warm. 

Years to forget him. 

Exactly 3 days for him to sink back in as if he’d never left. 

Corners of your brain would always house him, the door was always propped open and all the windows unlocked. Nam-gyu would find himself right back where he had started within you, leaving dirty footprints through your hallways.

The differences in him were subtle creatures, if you’d blink you’d miss it at times, but he’s trying and that means he gives enough of a shit. He’s waiting for you to open your arms and welcome him back in so he could make a mess of you all over again- and though you may be a fool, you decide to throw the poor dog within him a particularly tasty bone. 

You don’t sit next to him by any teams, but after grabbing your dinner from the guard you make a point to settle upon a set of steps within Nam-gyu’s general vicinity. It’s an invitation- one that reaches him in alluring calls the very moment he sees you lean back and catch his eyes. As always, he was eager to take that chance, hastily getting up from what little ‘friends’ he had and scurrying over to sit beside you. 

At first you don’t offer any words. There’s a certain weight in the gapping pause, like he’s at the edge of his seat, leaning on every inhale and exhale of yours. Dark eyes and a pointed expression that can never quite seem to figure you out. He waits, and he waits for you to break the silence whilst spinning the rings on his fingers, his meal yet to be touched at his lap. Your tongue swipes out over your lips.

“Thank you.” Tentative, careful. But you break the stillness regardless like a stone through water.

“You already said that.” 

“I know, but I need to say it again. You could have gotten yourself killed, you know.”

Poking through his rice with his chopsticks, all he offers is a dull shrug, like it doesn't matter. Your eyes narrow, and you mock him with a dramatic shrug of your own.

“That’s all? Really?” He won’t meet your face, chewing the edge of his lower lip. You scoff. “Does your life mean that little to you?”

“How can you ask that? It means a lot to me. I don’t wanna die.”

“You almost did.”

He finally finds your eyes, expression caught somewhere between the dance of upheaval and agitation. Perhaps he doesn’t even understand it himself- the way he’d thrown his life around so easily for you. You’re pushing him, so you reign back, let yourself soften just enough. 

“You could have died, and you did it anyway?”  

“Damn it,” He sets his food down and rubs his eyes, dragging at the skin. “Why’re you always asking so many questions?”

“Because you never tell me things on your own.” You pluck the fried egg from your box, chewing down the cold food. When you take a bite, Nam-gyu does too, whether he means to move in tandem with you intentionally or not. 

“I tell you lots of things.”

“Sure, but nothing I ever really wanna know.”

“Alright.” He puts his food down again, swallows his mouthful of rice, restless. “Ask me shit, then.”

You know the smart thing would be to have a couple buffer questions, little things real easy for him to digest, but the words leave you before you get the chance to pull them back down to the pandora within your chest. 

“Why did you turn me down?”

It should catch him off guard, but it doesn’t. His blinks down at you, jaw tensing, those eyes of his always so stormy and unsure. Once again, all he manages for you is a shrug. He’s hiding right before your very eyes, all hands reaching out whilst slapping yours away when you reach back. A scared, hurt, biting dog. The tendency to howl for your love was beastly and he never stopped bearing those teeth. 

“Please,” A sweet touch to his arm, a downcast to your lovely eyes. “I have to know why you didn’t want me.”

“I did want you.” He says it so fast you have to take a second to process him. Your brows knit, the early stages of confusion and anger bubbling under your skin as you set your bento box down. Your temper was always the first to bloom.

“Clearly not, or you wouldn’t have let me leave.”

He swallows, tongue poking out to swipe over his lips. “I freaked out.”

“Really? Because I remember you just sitting there.”

“I know.” His fingers find his mouth, teeth catching on the hangnails he’d worked into the nail beds during bouts of anxiety. “I was freaking out. I didn’t want all that extra shit and then you left and I-...” He swallows again, mind searching for all the words. “I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d really go.”

You have to digest it all for another moment, a pregnant pause as you do. The look on his face that day, so mullish and nonchalant even though you knew with every fibre of his being that he was anything but never left you. Haunted you, drew you away from anyone that shared even an ounce of similarities. You saw his smirks, heard his laughter, saw the outlines of his posture in strangers and it always made you sick to your stomach. 

There’s a thousand questions, now, but you hone in one in specific. 

“Extra shit?”

“Extra shit. Like-... Girlfriend, boyfriend shit…”

“Nam-gyu, we did have girlfriend, boyfriend shit.”

“Yeah but then you wanted to go and make it some official thing. If we already had it, why bother? All labels do is cause problems. What we had… It was good. It was fine.”

Your skin is starting to heat up. There’s a fall to your tone when you slip your hand off his arm and murmur, “Fine, for you.”

His eyes follow your hand retracting as if you’d cut him, shoulders slumping. “...Why didn’t it work for you?”

“I really liked you. I needed all that extra ‘official’ shit, whether you think it’s stupid or not. It meant a lot to me. It meant that you were serious about me, that you wanted me more than the… Fun. we had.” The words leave you forlorn, alive but peaking at the brims with defeat. “I knew I was yours, but… I wanted-... Needed to know that you were mine, too.”

“I was yours!” Nam-gyu leans back hard, terse and pointed with this sullen desperation around him that cried hear me. “I was yours and I didn’t need some stupid name to prove it.”

It’s a tale as old as time, true as it can be when he’s bunching his sleeves up, gripping hard to the inner fabrics, growing frustrated and antsy under the glint of your spectacle. His skin twitches like it’s its own separate entity, like he has to squeeze and clutch and drag to get it to settle back over his muscles and nerves. You’re sure you’re under there right now, worming paths through his veins and into his brain like a sneaky little parasite he could never seem to shake. 

All it takes is a gentle touch to his arm again. Reminds him that you’re right there, beside him. 

And then he’s giving up. Losing his edge, losing his temper but crushing the rolling bites of anger into a simple longing itch of you. He’s trying to clamp his mouth shut but you’re dragging it all out of him anyways, cast by cast. It’s a gratifying satisfaction you never knew could scratch so good. You’d wanted it since the start- all these swirling emotions sputtering from his lips so you could lap up every sound. 

Fingers fall from his tracksuit. You eye him, meet his dejection face to face. 

“Why was being my boyfriend such a terrible thing to you?”

Nam-gyu’s expression falls miles below anything else you’ve seen thus far, somehow. Drawn and weathered, far away down into his lap and hiding himself within the darks of his eyes to escape your gaze. 

“I didn’t want anything to change.” Strands of hair slip past his ear and hang around the frame of his face, further shielding him. “I didn’t think… I don’t know what I thought.”

“Didn’t think what?” It’s like pulling teeth, you find, extracting the bits of him he’d clocked years into burying. You coax him anyway, and he finds your light with compulsory desire. 

“I thought I didn’t want it.”

 “It, or me?”

“It. It really got under my skin. You, got under my skin.” When he looks at you, you can truly see the mask breaking away into shards. A person suit coming untwined as the real him bloomed. “Girlfriend had a lot of… weight to it. I didn’t want all of that, but you then left, and I don’t know.”

And thus, that nonchalant squarecrow he’d planted onto that couch all those years ago is gone in the blink of an eye. You remembered him ugly and defiant in the moment, but you had overlooked the smirk of anxiety. The way he watched every move you made, the way he rubbed red into the skin of his hands with his fingers itching to drive into something, anything to release the tension. 

I thought I didn’t want it.

A weight settles in your chest as the being of him crawls further into your ribcage, carefully.

“...How do you feel, now?”

Eyes travel from where your touch meets his skin, up to your shoulders, and then to meet your line of sight. His lips twitch, parting, but he’s searching for the words. Searching for you, you realize, reaching and begging to be taken out from the cold. 

“I thought you died earlier.” He blurts. It throws you off guard, but your perturbation is only as long as it takes for him to continue with the ghost of fright still saturating the memory. “After the six-legged race, I thought you died, and it felt like it was my fault.”

 “Hold on, I chose to not join you.” Your brows knit, clutching the fabric of his tracksuit a little tighter. He just shakes his head. 

“If you had died, I don’t know what I would have done. It was only for a few minutes, but fuck. I just kept thinking I shouldn’t have let you say no.”

A cross between amusement and empathy shapes your lips into an uptick, your palm dragging upwards to his bicep. “That’s the problem we keep having, Nam-gyu. When are you gonna’ realize you don’t ��let me’ do anything?”

“Oh, I know it already. Trust me.” A sigh leaves him but it almost sounds like a scoff. 

The recollection of your momentary loss eats at him. In all the years you’d been gone from his life, a ghost turned into forlorn fleeting blips of memories, you could still read him like your favorite book. Line for line, word for word. Every character and detail etched into your mind, a glorious museum packed to every corner with him, him, him. 

There’s this part of you that’s coming to life again, rising from the ashes not so much like a roaring phoenix but this gentle stream of embers singing the tips of your soul. Like an old battery, a feeling that comes from deep, deep, within. The uncanny urge to sooth out all those tensions stoning over his muscles and push his hair from his face as he always does. 

“I didn’t realize you had been that upset, earlier.”

Which is a lie. Truth be told, when you’d managed to find your feet back into that dormitory, the first thing you sought was him. And he was on you, quick, teary and red. In that moment, you could see the way he felt as though he could breathe again. You all the same- this all consuming relief washing over you like a wave from head to toe. 

He was the first thing on your mind when you’d walked in, and he was the last thing on your mind when you fell asleep that night. 

Nam-gyu’s breath stutters as he nods.

“I almost did.” You murmur, feeling the blitz of terror that’d driven into your heart during your round. “I kept fucking up the spinner, and my teammate lied about knowing how to play Ggongi. Because of us, we barely even made it with a second left. You wanna know something?” It takes a second for him to look you in the eyes, but he does, and you smile pathetically. “I remember thinking to myself, man, I should have gone with you. And then you went and saved my life earlier and I felt like such a…” 

He blinks at you, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I felt like such a bitch.”

For a couple seconds, he doesn't react, but when he does, he leans back and clicks his tongue. His lips tuck upwards and he’s trying to not smile- your heart soars. 

“You can say it this time,” You giggle, nudging him. “I won’t be mad.”

Another shake of his head, those black strands falling even further from his ear. “Yes you will.”

Tongue swiping out over your lips, you can feel the energy lifting back up, buzzing and trilling like a spring day melting away the laundering billows of snow. Something blooms there with beautiful petals under the sun. 

“You haven't answered my question.” You chirp. He looks at you, and you’ve got him now, all his attention and all his warmth. Subconsciously, you lean towards him. And he does the same. “How do you feel now?”

There’s a heaviness that adopts the space between your bodies. Heartbeats and staggered breaths moving in tandem, a rhythm you knew all too well. All the time apart, bitter and spiteful and angry, just to realize that he’d never truly left the closets of your soul. You knew him like your own self, knew all his fine tunings and the jagged edges of his resentful anxieties.

Nam-gyu takes in the very essence of you with those all seeing eyes of his. 

“I never stopped thinking about you.” 

The world stops turning all at once when he speaks. 

Oh god, how your heart bursts into flames, unaware of how badly you’d been wanting this. Like getting a taste of the finest wine, or a forbidden fruit, so sweet and perfect and dripping down your chin. A confession spills from you in the stream. Years of snuffing out that licking flame just for it to combust into a raging wildfire at his whim. 

You can’t stop yourself. 

“I haven't, either.”

A version of you from three years ago howls out in retribution.

But then it’s hushed with the doe of his expression, leaning in like every word out of your mouth is gospel. His own personal bible, his own personal heaven. When you tell him, his breath leaves him in a broad rush of air.

A  voice echoes over the speakers, chopping chunks out of the palpable tension growing. Lights out in five minutes. 

For a long moment, you both just watch each other. The raw brunt of emotions is palpable, thick over your mind and body like a sheet of yearning tension. 

But Nam-gyu speaks first after he glances towards where your bed had been, gone as the number of players dwindled and the beds were rearranged to compensate. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“I found a different bed.” You don’t tell him that you purposely chose an empty bed closer to his, but when you point to it, you can see the pleased expression drawn out from the disappointment. 

“If you get nervous, come to mine.” He says suddenly, and you blink at him. 

“Nervous?”

“Just saying.” Fingers catching his sleeves, bunching the fabric up. “You can if you want.”

‘If you want’. He’s learning after all. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m gonna get to bed, okay? I’ll come talk to you in the morning.” 

You say it so softly, like it could wound him. Perhaps it does regardless, however, because the look he gives you in return is especially pained. Hates that your getting up, hates that there’s going to be meters and meters of metal frame work and sleeping bodies filling the spaces that lead to you. He almost grabs you, fingers popping out from under his sleeves, but he reels himself back in and instead leans back against the wall of the step and watches you. 

Leaning down, you kiss his cheek, and you pretend you don’t notice the way his breath lodges into his throat when you do.

.

It’s quiet that night. This weight has settled over like a blanket of smog threatening to snuff you out everytime your breath leaves your lungs. There’s this irritation stuck within you- a certain twist and churn within your guts that makes you shift positions ceaselessly. The present arguing with the past, years of growth and the endless tumble back down to where you’d begun. The mindless, dangerous joy of landing flat on your back under him all over again. 

Laying on your side doesn’t work, your brain far too busy behind your eyes. You give laying on your back one more shot, eyes staring up at the bottom of the bunk above you, but it doesn’t help. Nam-gyu still floods your mind no matter what you do.

Fuck, you still see him. Those beautiful angles and the slopes of his cheekbones, the feeling of dragging your hands down his shoulders to his chest and marking every last inch. 

He’s saying your name within the confines of your skull, the sound echoing through your dome. 

You’re hearing him now, too? Great. As if it wasn't bad enough before. He’s taking over your mind, your body, and now you’re having to audibly hear him like a teasing ghost paying you visits of desire. You’re the same person you were three years ago, for god’s sake. After all you’d done to move on he’s still there under your skin, working his way through the ridges and bumps of your brain. 

“Hey, are you even awake right now?”

Wait- that’s not in your head. 

You launch up with a gasp sputtering in your throat, eaten by the sudden lurching fear of a dark figure leaning over your bed. The knee jerk reaction to scream fails you, as does your strength when the figure leans in close and you try to shove them away hopelessly. 

“Stop, stop! I’m not gonna’ do anything.”

Oh, it is Nam-gyu. He’s just decided to come and sneak up beside your bed like a creep in the darkness and properly scare the living daylights out of you. The sudden plummet of your nerves makes you wheeze out a sigh of relief and you toss yourself flat onto your mattress. Your hands cover your face, dragging the skin down in irritation. 

“I thought I was going to die.” You hissed.

“Come on. Seriously?” He sat at the edge of your bed, and you’re so fucking relieved it’s not some random player coming to sweeten the pot, that you let him without a word. 

“I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Who else would it be? Thanos?” 

“Yes, actually.” You smirk at him through your fingers. “That’d really bust your balls, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t say that shit.” He grunts, huffing. “You being serious?”

He looks pathetic, even despite the way his brows collect in annoyance. You used to find that cute about him- all angry and ruffled on the outside but always this anxious, soft little thing on the inside. So pent up with nowhere to go, clinging to the few things that he gives a shit about but no means to show it. 

You still do find it cute. At least a little bit, anyways. You must because you find your lips tugging upwards before you can stop them. 

“No, obviously. Your friend is fucking weird.” Saying it like he isn’t weird, too, is a funny thing. But his weird is different in your eyes- better. 

You start to wonder if maybe things were changing, again. Reverting and revisiting a side of yourself he’d forced you to abandon. 

You also start to wonder if that's a good thing. It’s hard to tell with Nam-gyu. He has a way of making the things so terrible for you feel so, so good. 

He’s just sitting there in silence, thinking harder than you’ve ever seen him think. The tenacity of him is something new- which is crazy, because you truly had thought you’d seen all the in’s and the out’s of him. 

“Can’t sleep?” Your voice drags him out of his trance. 

The floor lights illuminate a glow in his eyes when he turns to look at you again, those dark hues far away. When he doesn’t answer, and you fully take in the somberness of him, you have this urge from deep within your soul. An insatiable itch that you’d refused to admit to yourself you’d been longing for the last three years. You swallow hard, your mouth opens and closes, struggling to get the words out.

“...Do you want to lay with me?”

It’s like inviting the vampire into your home knowingly.

Nam-gyu doesn’t linger for even a second. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll change your mind if he doesn’t jump on the chance, or perhaps he’d been desperate to be at your side since you’d left him that day. You weren’t sure- not really, but he was throwing himself at your side in the blink of an eye.

Even worse, his arms are already snaking around your body, finding you against himself in the darkness. Entitled to your body, and taking your air with him. A part of you has this immediate suspension- or more like, an experienced worry that those long fingers of his are going to try and explore down your body until they find something all too warm and familiar, but just like the look on his face moments ago, somethings different about him. Something longing, feeling. 

He drags your back against his chest and he cages you in his grasp and he buries his face into your hair, breathes you in so deeply you’d think he’s getting high off your scent. Squeezing you so tight like he can’t believe he’s really got you. He even brings the blanket over you and pats it over your shoulders before he nestles in against your body.

“Nam-gyu,” You whisper, and he hums in response. “What are you doing?”

As if you aren’t actively letting him, as if you aren’t feeling all your tensions melt away in his hold. A puzzle piece settled back into its place after so long it ached. 

His response is quiet, broken up. Words you never thought you’d ever hear leave his lips. 

“I missed you.”

Between his confession and his breath on your neck, you shiver. A full body wrack that makes you crack your eyes open in the darkness. 

“Yeah?” Your voice is equally as wavering.

He just nods and clutches you tighter. He’s never been this sweet with you- not even when things were good. And then he goes and surprises you again for the second, or third, time since he’s slinked into your bed. 

“When we leave here, give me another chance.”

The fence you’ve stuck atop of is mighty tall with a great leap on either side. One side him and all his backage, the other, lonely peace. To go through all that bullshit again might actually kill you. And fuck, you’ve done it, you’re out. You’re on the other side and untethered to him after so long, but he’s so warm next to you, and he’s saying the things you used to imagine in your weakest hours…

“You’re serious about this?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

He can’t say it, but he can nod against the cradle of your neck. 

“...And you’ll be my boyfriend?” You’re chewing the inside of your cheek, putting heavy emphasis on the label, making sure it rings true through that thick skull of his. 

Another nod. Your breath stutters in your fluttering chest. It’s slow, hesitating, but it’s there and you’re rolling over to face him through the dim lights. In this light, you can see certain parts of him that you’d seldom ever been able to touch. This softness, endearment that you caught fleeting glimpses of in his afterglows. Vulnerable. 

Your fingers find the sides of his face and he reacts like they’ve got their own gravitational pull, putty in your hold. Your touch is like warmth in the cold, like shelter within the storm. Life over all else. 

“So say it, then. Tell me you’re mine.”

He presses his lips into a tight line. “You already know I am.”

“Say it.” Dragging your thumb over his lower lip. “Say it so I can kiss you.”

You can see, you can feel the way light soars into those dark, dark eyes. His lips part. 

“I’m yours.”

Nam-gyu’s lips against yours, fingertips ghosting the mound of your cheekbone. 

It’s like coming home again. 

Sweet and gentle and nothing like you’d ever had the fortune of sharing with him. Kisses with him were always so urgent and demanding, but this was void of anything other than the yearn of finding yourself again. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve ever had with him, you think, in the middle of a packed room inches from death.

So intimate, that when he pulls away to gauge you, you drag him down by his collar for another. 

The flat of his palm cups the side of your face, and you hold the fabric of his suit to keep him right there. Deeper, this time. 

Too long for him was a beast of its own entirely, one that grew claws in your nail beds as you buried your hands in his thick black hair and let yourself melt into pools of honey around him. He’s equally so fervent, passion radiating off him like an aura, all hands and twisting arms and his body covering your own. Your back is flat to the bed and he’s overtop of you, so familiar but so different from before. Real and raw. He’s gripping a fist into the pillow beside your head, the blanket shifting off the bunk entirely and pooling onto the floor, forgotten. 

You pant when he breaks away, his hair tickling your face. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, and you’re excited to find his lips at your neck but instead he just kisses your jugular and buries his face within your collarbone. 

You wait for him to try to take it further. To claim the prize he’d really been working for- that sickly-sweet nectar between your legs that always seemed far too eager to drag him in. But he doesn't, and he’s quiet, and he’s breathing in your scent. 

And you haven't felt better in years. Clicked into place, even with the plane. 

“Okay.” You pant., find his shoulders and trace lines down his back, marveling in his twitching muscles under your ghost light touches.

“Okay?” His breath is hot against your skin. 

You pull him from the crook of your neck and pet down his face. He kisses your hand and you can’t stop this foolish grin from spreading over your face. A single nod.

“Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

He stops breathing. 

“For the game… Or, afterwards…?”

“For the game and afterwards. If we make it out.”

All of his weight settles at once, as though you’d pulled the pounds lodged onto his shoulders off entirely. 

“We will make it out.” His brows twitch together, caught between the cocktail of relief and trepidation, realizing that he could lose you all over again. He props himself up over you before he leans back on his knees, your waist trapped underneath his weight. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “You don’t know that.”

The moment you start to get up, he feels the need to flatten you back out under him with those hands of his. And you’re just as happy to do so- watching him towering over you before he lays at your side and wrenches you against his curling form. He kisses the back of your neck, chaste and soft until your skin flutters under each one. 

“Whatever happens,” You murmur, running your fingers over his knuckles. “I’ll stay with you.”

“We’ll make it out. I’ll make sure of it.” One more kiss to the back of your neck before he nuzzles you into him. 

It feels right. It feels like being rewarded, like getting the thing you wanted most in life. You bring his hand up to your lips just so you can dot kisses another his wrist. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[sweetverine]

PURRFECT FAMILY | old man!logan

chapter two : A Tail Between Us

summary : logan wants to get there and cuddle with his girl after a long shift, misty has other plans.

warnings : none! (i think)

a/n : another chapter of Purrfect Family!! it took me too long to write it... i didn't have much creativity for it but after a lot of thought, i did it! Logan is quite 'immature' lol i hope you like it <3 english isn't my first language so if anything's weird please let me know!

The last week has been a complete nuisance. The cat was everywhere. Was there a problem with a man wanting to spend time with his girl ALONE? Was it necessary for her to be there all the time? Watching your every move? She seemed so sweet to you, but with him? Oh, she judged him with a murderous look, he could swear she would try to kill him at night when you were sleeping.

Logan was obviously not dramatic.

Misty didn't hate Logan, she seemed curious about him even though she kept her distance. She still doesn't get too close to you either, she accepts and seeks your touch but she doesn't cuddle with you yet. You are both 'strangers' yet, the cat is learning to trust you, little by little she will feel safe enough to rest in the same bed.

You were in the kitchen, preparing pasta. your furry friend was on top of the fridge, looking down on everything. Yesterday she discovered that she could jump to high places and get a better view of her new home. Logan entered the kitchen. Upon entering, he jumped a little, seeing Misty sitting over the refrigerator. “the hell is she doing up there?” He says, already frowning. Opening the refrigerator, He took out a beer, closing the door and giving the cat a sour look.

“Misty discovered she likes heights." You said, smiling. Misty gave a raspy meow in response. “that's right miss” your voice became high pitched as you talked to her, everytime.

Logan grunted, opening the beer, “I don't like her up there.” He took a big gulp of the alcohol, letting it go down his throat in a satisfying way. He left the bottle on the counter. His arms wrapped around you as he buried his head in your neck. You felt his beard tickle your neck and Logan let out a grunt.

“Are you like this because of misty?” you tease, enjoying the closeness of your bodies.

“don't talk about it.” he says, his voice a bit raspy and you could smell the cigar he smoked on the couch.

“Why don't you love her as much as I do?” Logan growls again, he looks like an angry cat when he does that, he leaves kisses on your neck.

“Don't you think loving her is too much? You barely know her." His strong grip indicated possession, he was jealous of a cat, that damn cat.

“Logan, she's just a cat.” You said, looking to the side to see him, your nose pressing against his cheek. “You are behaving like a complete child right now.” Logan bites your neck before pulling away, He's completely ignoring you when you say things like that, he has every right to feel grumpy about misty.

well he likes to think that way.

In the afternoon, Logan got ready for work, fastening his belt while you helped him button his white shirt. He is going to work at night today, and would be back by the time the sun started to rise. at least you wouldn't be alone. He kissed you tenderly, letting your lips enjoy each other's experience for the last time this day. You smiled against his mouth as he pulled away.

“night, princess.” he murmured, pulling away, not before giving you a last short kiss to finally leave the apartment.

The city was always chaotic, noisy and above all annoying.

Logan couldn't stop thinking about you, to distract himself, obviously. He had to spend the night with something. But these days, something was pulling him out of his usual thoughts: the furry friend who joined home a few days ago, he couldn't stand her anymore, it's very immature of him to think that way about a CAT.

Only when no one was around, he opened the window and lit a cigar, Logan just wanted to get to you fast.

He had to make two more trips than usual to get even more money. He wanted to buy you a house, although the apartment was cozy, he couldn't stop imagining having a permanent home, without having to pay rent every month.

Logan arrived home around 6 in the morning, his feet were cold, and he was already looking forward to going to bed with you. To cuddle up with you and bring the warmth back to his body. Hmm, what a wonderful idea.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door gently before taking off his jacket. He walks to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes lazily. A shower wouldn't hurt, After being out all night in the city, it was noticeable in the smell of his clothes and on his body. The hot water comes out of the shower soaking his muscles and relaxing them, he groaned softly. He wasn't that big of a fan of taking baths but he discovered that he liked it when you complimented him on his smell.

He wrapped a towel around his waist. The steamy bathroom was warm. Logan reluctantly dried himself off, finally going to the room you shared. He almost jumped when he opened the door and found Misty….. on HIS SIDE OF THE BED. dramatic trumpets, Oh god. Logan frowned, walking slowly to the closet, putting on some boxers and a tank top.

How would he get into bed? How would he snuggle up with you? Not with the cat in between. He couldn't do it. At least not tonight.

“move.” He rasped, trying to get the cat out.

Misty opened her eyes sleepily, looking at him without bothering.

Logan sighed as he opened the sheets, the kitten was forced to move, but not too much. He got inside and lay down on his back, looking to the ceiling. He could be hugging you from behind, his head buried in your neck, his hands on your chest, warming each other up, but he's not.

he could take the cat out of the room, but he knew you'd get mad at him so he couldn't. Logan knew if he took the cat out of bed, it would inevitably climb back in. He growled softly, only to get even more wrinkled if he kept bothering about things like this.

In the morning, you rolled over, surprised to not feel Logan behind you, clinging like a tick. The sun filtered through the window as you yawned, The sheets were warm, you wanted to stay there forever. You opened your eyes slowly, seeing Logan lying on his back and Misty on top of him, relaxed. You were filled with love, they looked so pretty together. quickly you grabbed your phone, taking a picture of the cute situation.

You moved even closer, snuggling closer to him, with a sleepy smile. Logan's snores lowered the volume a little and he began to wake up. He opened his eyes and realized the weight on top of him. He growled, taking the cat and putting her at the end of the bed.

“Who told you that you could do that?” His voice was hoarse from all the sleep.

“morning, lo.” you said, pulling him out of his destructive morning thoughts, he turned around vaguely.

“morning.” he was already frowning. You laughed a little and looked at Misty, who stretched out and lay back down on the bed. Too sleepy to function yet, you were happy to see her so relaxed.

Logan lays down again, groaning, his back hurts. Old man things. he gets closer, laying on your chest, Breathing your scent.

“Your cat wouldn't let me sleep with you,” he said, his hand caressing your skin.

“Did she? she was very comfortable with you.” you chuckled, caressing his grey hair.

“I don't want her using me like I'm her damn bed.”

“don't be dramatic.” you mumbled, hugging him more tightly.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Allure

Part Two:Knuckle Velvet

❥MATZ x fem reader

Part One(Sunshine)

Part Three(Smoke)

➯a/n: i'm so glad people like this story, i've spent so much time on it and it's a labor of love, enjoy part two <33 if you're new here, part one is very much needed to understand what's going on and please read the warnings and take care of yourself ! if you didn't see my update, i lost the final draft of part three and now only have a paper draft so apologies that it will take a little bit to be uploaded ❤️‍🩹

✃ "Mind, body, soul, and wolf."

♫"Nothing hurts like the way you do; like the way you say "I love you." " -Knuckle Velvet, Ethel Cain♫Allure Soundtrack

✫彡wordcount: 6.9k

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: smut, YANDERE, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: DEAD DOVE I MURDERED THAT BEOTCH chapter specific: not beta read(ironically), criminal MATZ, alpha MATZ/omega reader, forced soul bonding, forced marking, nobody is mentally well, yandere and possessive behavior, talk of murder, talk of drugs, bits of humor because i was going insane, smoking 🍃, sh in the form of putting joints out on skin(NOT READER, NOT DESCRIPTIVE), reckless driving(is that a warning?), reader needs a hug like honestly-

cunnilingus, nudity, heat cycle, outdoor, fingering, THIS IS NOT A NON CON FIC, ALL SMUT IS CONSENSUAL.

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

⁂fic taglist: @potatomountain @spooo00oky @choichaeyiul @cheynalexilaiho @haven-cove @hwasbabygirl @gong-fourz @chaotic-floral @hyukssunflower @unlikelysublimekryptonite @tinybada @sunnyhokyu @calisnewworld @elysiangroundsforall

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

˚➶ ｡˚ PART TWO ˚➶ ｡˚

Something is wrong.

The warmth of your bed calls you back to sleep as you stir.

Something is wrong.

The smell of cooking pancakes wafts through the air, your stomach churns in interest.

Something is wrong.

The hand on your side is so soft it's almost fleeting.

Something is wrong.

Your eyes snap open, blurry vision landing on an unfortunately familiar set of features. Long brown hair, full lips in a seemingly perpetual line, thick letters on his neck.

You let out a scream as your body catches up with your mind, kicking Seonghwas arm and crawling back into the corner of your bed. "Sleep well? I sure hope so, Hongjoong nearly cried because you didn't get to mark him back before you passed out." His calm demeanor is the very antithesis of your state; frazzled and heart beating wildly in your ears. "I'm not too pleased with waiting either."

You go to pull the blanket over yourself again when he rips it off the bed completely. "G-go away, or else..." Your weak attempt at a threat makes the criminal grin, and he stands from his squatting position, looming over your cowering form.

"Oh you don't know how deep in you are, do you?" He purrs, crawling onto the mattress. It creaks pitifully under his weight as he moves ever closer.

He stops just short of being right in your face. "We own you. And when you stop this little tantrum, mark us back... you own us. A little thing like you, been on that blocker for God knows how long, you won't last but a few more hours until you're running to us with your tail between your legs. Hormones flooding your system, begging for your alphas...Begging for your mates." His eyes flick to your bruised shoulders, their marks peeking out of your scrubs. "Don't make us wait too long now, omega. We aren't patient men."

"Hwa!"

He leans away from you, yelling back to the voice, "what?!" His booming voice makes you jump, and take a deathly tight grip your pillow.

"Food!"

He looks back to you, and it's as if you can tell what he's thinking. You shake your head, slapping his hand away when he goes to grab your wrist. "C'mon now, you won't want an empty stomach when we mate-" He's cut off when a pillow hits his head, leaving him to let out an exasperated sigh.

Hongjoong turns around just as Seonghwa rounds the corner with your fidgeting form over his shoulder. "Hey, Dolly!" He greets casually, like this is an everyday occurrence, as he sets down the plate he's holding next to the other two on your little round table.

"Help! Help me!" You scream, gasping as you're quite literally thrown in a chair.

"No use in that," Hongjoong begins as he sits opposite of you, "no one will hear you. We cleared this place out. If they aren't dead, they're in the prison with our pack."

       Your eyes well with tears. You don't doubt his words for a second. Massacring and holding a town hostage wouldn't even be on the top three of their crimes.

      You take a shaking breath and gather yourself, glaring at the blonde silently. "Oh are you mad?" He asks teasingly. "We made ourselves comfy, hope you don't mind! Lovely little place you've got here."

You choose to stay silent, not trusting your own voice as it wavers even in your head.

"Eat up," Seonghwa pushes one of the plates to you, but Hongjoong snatches it back, eyeing you as you eye it.

It's been a full day since you've eaten, judging by the rising sun in the window. And you silently curse yourself for skipping lunch.

"Something you need to do first, Dolly." He taps his neck, a small grin playing at his lips as he notices your eyebrows push together. He wishes he could crawl into your head and see all of those thoughts that are undoubtedly suffocating you.

And they are. Your lungs feel heavy as you weigh every option against one another. You could run- but you've never outran an alpha, let alone two. You could hide- but that didn't work too well in the prison. You could simply refuse to return the bite- but the last wolf who did that was turned inside out, literally. You could simply cry and hope for their mercy- but you knew it would never come.

Your chair scratches the hardwood under it as you slowly push yourself away from the table. You notice you're missing your shoes as you trudge the few feet that feel like miles.

Hongjoongs head is eagerly turned to the untainted side, Seonghwa's mark mirrored to where you must leave yours.

You attempt to tune out the joyous howling of your wolf, tell her this is not a good thing. But she doesn't care. All she says is-

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

You wince as your canines push through your gums unannounced, lip snarling upward to give them room.

Seonghwa watches with a sadistic glint in his eye as you bend forward, tears building up in your own.

You hate to admit that Hongjoong, both of them really, smell wonderful. But your wolf sure doesn't, she only chants louder.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

Your anxious breathes fan against his neck, goosebumps arising in response and anticipation.

His heart is skipping beats. You're so close that you can hear it.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

With a quick movement, your teeth are sunk into his flesh, forever bonding you.

˚➶ ｡˚

    The searing water pelts your back. Steam swirls in the air. Your cries and sniffles echo on the linoleum tile.

     After marking both alphas you didn't have much appetite but, after helping you rinse your mouth, Hongjoong had made you eat everything on your plate before he let you run to the bathroom and lock yourself in.

     Despite the pull in his gut, the urge to break down the door and comfort you, Hongjoong had forced himself to leave. He couldn't listen to your cries, even if he was the cause of them.

      That left the older alpha alone in your humble living room. He tuned his ears to focus on the rainfall, the rolling thunder, the periodic knocking of your air conditioning, anything but the sound of your sorrow.

    You don't quite find it in yourself to care who is or isn't in your home, you find yourself with a much more immediate problem.

     Seonghwa was right.

   You feel heat bubbling to life in your lower stomach, slowly consuming the ball of anxiety that resides there. Your wolf is loud. She won't shut up. Mate this, mate that, knot this, and knot that. You wish with every ounce of your being that she wouldn't be such a primal animal, but that's much like expecting a wild animal to be house trained.

     You find your tears slowly drying, washed away from your cheeks by the ever falling water.

     You hadn't had a heat in a good long while. And now you were mated to two alphas? Seonghwa was right, and you are beyond fucked. You'd never even had a partner during a heat.

     A whimper trembles past your lips without your consent, small and pathetic much like how you feel.

You go to grip the knobs, gasping as you see your claws. They look thicker than before, darker as well. You bring them to your face, turning your hand over and inspecting them. "What..."

A knock at the door startles you enough to grab the tub, new and improved nails leaving indents on the acrylic fiberglass. "(Y/n)? Don't get too hot, the steam is coming out into the hall."

"Go away!" You squeeze your eyes shut, praying Seonghwa didn't hear the sorry crack in your voice.

Your prayers, much like yesterday, go unanswered, unheard. "Are you okay in there? I know... I know the situation isn't ideal-"

"Shut up!" You growl, hand immediately slapped to your mouth in shock of your own outburst. The quiet is eating you alive, making you wish the raining water above you would somehow drown you.

"I'm coming in."

"No! Just fucking leave me alone." Your eyes are wide at the sound of your own voice once again. You, your body is curled into the corner of the tub wanting to disappear and become one with the tiles below you. You, your mouth is loud and proud with your anger.

He opens the lock with his claw, breaking your deceptive sense of privacy. The stream rises into the hall in a thick fog, obscuring his vision. He tries to look for your outline behind the shower curtain but he finds nothing. When a small sniff sounds, his eyes flick to the source. The shadow of a curled up body.

When he grab the curtain, your voice comes out quietly. "Please don't touch me."

"I won't." He speaks shortly, opening the fabric just enough to turn off the water. Immediately, with no sound to drown it out, he hears your irregular heartbeat. "I won't," he says with a voice soft with promise.

The silence drapes you both, listening closely to one another for any sign of movement or speech.

Your ears are perked up, eyes wide and wild as you watch his silhouette take a seat on the closed toilet. He seems to be watching you as well.

"You're in heat." He breaks the hush with a punch. It's not a question, more so it's an observation from his sharp senses.

"Yes." You whisper back.

"How long since you had your last one? That blocker was in there deep." His voice holds something like quiet empathy, which makes your wolf want to crawl to him even more. You try to calculate the years to give him a good estimate of how bad this will get, but your brain feels too hot in your head.

"Long," is all you can muster up.

The quiet blankets you again, the only sound the raging storm outside. A clap of thunder makes you jerk, wrapping your clawed hands around yourself for a sense of comfort.

His hand comes through the gap in the curtain, holding your large fluffy towel. You take it with an almost silent thank you, wrapping it around your shoulders as you stay seated.

He watches the steam dissipate, surveying your small bathroom. The tub and shower which currently holds you takes up the short wall. The toilet he sits on has a soft fabric covering on the lid, the short blue yarn matches the color of the walls and the striped curtain. Your medicine cabinet has small little flowers painted on it with an obviously careful hand. Your products on the counter are organized in re-used plastic containers. Your clothes are set on the edge and awaiting you.

He wonders what you'll do to their home when it becomes yours as well.

When you shuffle, he looks back to your distorted form. Slowly standing, you clear your throat. "Can you, uhm..."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," he mutters as he stands, closing the door behind him.

Taking a peek around the drape, you make sure he's really gone before you step out and quickly dry yourself off, blinking away the tears that start to build again.

     With a fresh outfit on and having scrubbed off as much of them as you could, you step out of the bathroom for the first time in hours. Hongjoongs scent is weak, making you briefly wonder where he went as you tip toe around your own home.

     The door to your room is still ajar, but a glimpse inside shows no sign of the alpha who's smell is still strong. The sound of the TV draws you out to the compact living room. There, you can see the back of his head as he faces the box television, watching a rerun of Starsky and Hutchy.

     He says nothing as you sit down, and you say nothing back. He's not paying attention, and neither are you. But neither of you dare speak first.

˚➶ ｡˚

How you fell asleep, you have no idea. But the slam of the front door makes you jump awake, grabbing the nearest object which happens to be Seonghwas forearm.

He places his hand on yours wordlessly and turns to see whoever has the nerve to wake you. "Mingi?" He groans after a moment of reflection.

The strange man in your home, Mingi, is tall, taller than Seonghwa- and it makes you cower into the alpha subconsciously. He shakes the rain water out of his short pink hair in a way akin to a dog after a bath, unbothered by the glare and the wide eyes on him. "Hey!"

"What are you-"

"Joong sent me," he lifts up a duffel bag with a grin, kicking his shoes off as to not drag mud into your home and piss off his alphas mate. "Hi," he smiles more politely towards you as he slowly approaches, noticing your arms tremor.

"You forget how to knock?" Seonghwa grumbles as he stands, hand hesitantly leaving your own as he walks behind the couch to join the man.

"Well I didn't hear anything, I figured you were sleeping or something." He shrugs simply as he sits the bag on the sewing machine you use as a desk.

"We were, asshat." The brotherly bickering of the pack mates makes you smile, and you hide your lips in the cushion as you watch them carefully from you backwards seating on the couch.

     The pink haired man's attention lands on you as Seonghwa looks through the clothes in the bag. "Hi, 'm Mingi," he smiles kindly, holding his hand out to you only for it to be smacked down quickly by Seonghwa with a glare. "Uhm, rude," he rolls his eyes with a clear playfulness.

     "No touching," he huffs shortly, eyes flicking back to you. "He touches you, I cut off his fingers. I'm going to shower." He leans over the back off the couch and lifts your face out of the fabric gently, taking your lips in his possessively, leaving you flabbergasted as he leaves as quick as he came.

     Mingi whistles lowly as the bathroom door closes, chuckling at your starstruck expression. "This fuckin' guy, am I right?" He jokes, smiling awkwardly as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. "I'm an omega too, don't worry. I know it's scary coming across new wolves when you're like us, not knowing..."

      You nod silently, eyeing him up for any sign of danger. But you only find him shivering. "You want a towel or something...?"

    "Oh, if it's not any trouble," he smiles again, the gummy nature of it reminds you of Jihyun, and you find a lot of your nerves draining away. He's an omega like you, so you have a fair chance against him. And despite everything, you doubt Seonghwa would let anyone hurt you, let alone someone from his own pack.

    You sneak by him quickly and into the closet in the hall next to the bathroom, where you can hear the water running.

     "Here you go," you hand it over before taking a seat again, turning backwards on the couch to keep an eye on him as he towels off his hair.

    Starsky and Hutch keeps the silence from being too stiff, but it's clear Mingi has a lot of words on his tongue fighting to come out as he dries his arms.

    "Do-"

    "Is-"

    "Sorry," you both mumbles as you speak over each other. You motion to the seat next to you and he takes it with a quick, "thanks."

    "So," you begin, tucking your knees under your chin, "he's your alpha?"

    "Both of them, they lead together." He nods as he speaks, looking around your home.

    "That's weird," you mumble to yourself, picking at the string on your sock, "how does that work?"

     "Well... I mean they just kind of lead us all together. Make decisions together, it's not a dictatorship actually- they let us vote on stuff sometimes, it's nice. I'm sure you'll come to understand our pack, we're just a bit... different."

    "How did, uh, I mean I've heard some stuff, I dunno-"

    "You can ask me. I know those two probably weren't very talkative."

   "Yeah," you chuckle quietly, taking a peek at him, "they made their own pack, right? How did you end up here?"

    He looks back at you and slowly relaxes in his seat, both of you growing more comfortable as your wolves sniff one another out. "Yeah, that's right. They didn't roll up on a village like this and say, 'who's the strongest, let's fight', like most alphas come to be. They found each of us and asked us to join, didn't just demand it. I was one of the first, actually. They found me stealing some food in Minnesota, told me pledge my loyalty and I'll never be cold or hungry again."

   "And?"

  "Hm?"

   "Have you been?"

    "Never," he shakes his head, "they're good alphas. Maybe not the best people, but good alphas. I'm sorry you had to join us this way... they can be a bit impulsive, impatient." His eyes are low and voice even lower, like he's trying to hide his words from the man who's most definitely listening in. "They aren't monsters, at least not the kind the news makes them out to be. They're the monsters the world shaped them into."

     You feel his wolf calling out to yours, albeit weakly. You've never felt it before. Is it because you're finally apart of a real pack? Because you're his alphas mate? Your eyes flick to your wolves and his follow suit, a pink color that matches his hair.

"Mingi." His voice breaks your small staring competition, both of you looking to him. He looks a lot different on his own clothes, and it makes your annoyingly loud wolf even louder. His forearm sleeve and neck tattoo is on show in his dark grey wifebeater, finally freed from the long sleeve orange top. The marks on his shoulders are out and proud as well. His bell bottom jeans make his long legs look even longer, like he's more than half leg. His inked up fingers work nimbly to buckle his belt. That's when you finally look away, sinful thoughts flooding your head thanks to your building heat.

"Has Hongjoong come up with a plan with the rest of you?"

     You don't register that he's come up to the couch until he's picking you up. You grab onto his shoulders and bite your lip as you yelp.

     "He says we should just sneak attack their camp, Jongho's been able to sus out their location with his-" Mingi clears his throat to stop himself as Seonghwa sends him a glare while he sits, settling you in his lap. "With some intel... says they only have two scouts at a time."

You curl up on yourself, breathing deeply- which turns out to be a grave mistake. Seonghwas sandalwood scent floods you all at once, the musky smell of the prison washed away. A wave of arousal hits you like the one in the shower, and he squeezes you closer to his chest.

"He'll tell me about it later, go on and go back to the prison and tell him come back."

"Wha-"

"Go now."

"Yup, yeah, I'm gone." Mingi jumps up, leaving the towel on the couch as he dashes to the door, disappearing with a quick, "later!"

You try to scramble away the second the door shuts, but the alpha grabs your ankle and pins you to the couch. "Please, please!" You shake your head while sniveling, quieted when he cups the back of your neck softly.

"Calm down, omega," he whispers, keeping his weight off of you, "you need us to get rid of that heat, you know that don't you?"

You nod dreadfully, burying your face in the cushion. "I don't want-"

"Tell me what you want, and that's what I will do. Nothing more. I won't force you to do anything but I won't let you suffer in your heat, do you understand?"

"Yes..."

"Do you want me to let you go?"

Despite yourself, you whisper, "no..."

"Tell me how to help you. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want, omega, and I will give it to you."

˚➶ ｡˚

By the time Hongjoong crashes through the front door clumsily, both of you are gone from the couch. A trail of torn clothes and the call of soft moans lead him to your bedroom, the door open wide to provide him a beautiful view.

You, in your bra and nearly nothing else. Legs spread around Seonghwas shoulders and socked toes curling into the bed. Your sharp teeth out and peeking through your lips as they part with a moan.

Seonghwa, kneeling and back arched as he anchors himself between your legs, forearms wrapped around your thighs. His tank top rising up to expose the ink on his lower back. Low, muffled moans rumble in his throat.

      "Started without me?" He asks smugly after he catches his breath from the overwhelming scene.

     Seonghwas head snaps back at the intruder, eyes red and jaw slick- but he goes right back to his meal, making you yip in surprise. Your eyes stay locked on his, lit aglow just like the alphas between your legs. Your chest rises and falls with bated breathes.

"Hongj-ah!" You grip the straps of Seonghwas top, eyes squeezing shut as you whine.

     Your logic and reasoning went out the window the second Seonghwas eyes turned red with lust. Now, you let your wolf get what she wants for the time being. You forgot how badly heats burn.

     Your bed dips and creaks with the additional weight as the younger alpha joins you. You feel his breath over the healing mark he left, followed by a lick which makes you gasp.

     Every touch both extinguishes the burn and makes it hotter.

    "You smell so good," Hongjoong coos into your neck, hands slowly wrapping around your waist, "will you let me have a taste too?"

      "Y-yes!" You nod eagerly, fidgeting under his light touches until a slender hand presses down on your stomach to keep you in place, followed by a growl.

     "I'm not done, am I, omega? I thought you wanted to cum on my tongue? That's what you asked for, after all," Seonghwa teases as he pulls back, free hand playing with the slick between your thighs. He watches with a smirk as you nod, over and over. "Yeah?"

    "Yeah! Please, Seonghwa!" You feel a pinch in your gut as you beg for the criminal, but it's washed away with another surge of pleasure. A soft hand on your cheek makes you push your eyes open, coming face to face with Hongjoong.

     "Poor omega," he pouts as he traces your jaw, "those blockers are good for nothing, only cause problems. We'll take good care of you, don't worry. Anything you want, Doll. Anything at all."

     Your request is wordless. A pull at his belt loop with your clawed finger.

˚➶ ｡˚

You're fast asleep with your heat satisfied for the time being, sandwiched between the two alphas in your small bed. They keep quiet, enjoying the moment. They know that when you awake without your heat blurring your mind, you'll be distant again.

And they don't blame you.

Mingi was right, they're impulsive. They wanted you and they got you the second they could. They'll do whatever they can to make you realize you're meant to be their omega, their mate. They'll build the trust one step at a time, they just had to make sure you wouldn't slip away in the meantime.

Your breathes are slow and steady, deep in the hands of exhaustion. One of your legs is hooked across Hongjoongs hips, the other tangled in Seonghwas bell bottoms. Your arms are wrapped around the blondes neck, head buried in his shoulder.

Seonghwa has one arm tucked under both of your heads, fingers twirling Hongjoongs hair mindlessly as he holds a joint between his lips, inhaling deeply and letting the smoke out slowly. His pants are undone and underwear clumsily pulled back up.

      Hongjoong has his eyes closed peacefully, though he's not sleeping. He's listening intently to your heart beats, enjoying the familiar smell of his alphas smoking and the feeling of your naked body clinging to his.

       "Leave tomorrow?" Seonghwa whispers hushedly, letting the smoke in his lungs out in a puff.

     "The quicker we get home the better. We need to start making a real plan for that fuck face Greene." He snarls silently, pressing his nose into your hair in an attempt to calm himself.   

     "And make sure no one messed up while we were caged."

     "They told me Yunhos been taking care of the traffic flow, we should be good on that part. I just want to get my claws bloody."

    Seonghwa chuckles, rubbing his temple, "you know what's fucked? If that coward didn't rat us out, we wouldn't've found our mate."

      Hongjoong cracks a small smile, cradling your unconscious body close to his chest as Seonghwa stands. "Maybe I'll go easy on him then." He smirks, watching his shoulders bounce with silent laughter as he leaves the room, a trail of smoke following him.

     Seonghwa closes the bathroom door behind him, staring at his reflection. He takes the joint between his index and middle finger, leaning toward the glass.

     Hongjoong was made for this world, for his world. But were you? Had they just doomed you to a pitiful existence? Did he even care if they did?

     Peddling drugs and getting your claws bloody. He couldn't imagine you doing it. But he couldn't imagine letting you go.

     He pulls his jeans down and his boxers leg up, snuffing out the joint on his thigh.

˚➶ ｡˚

   "It ain't a crime to be good to yourself! Lick it up! Lick it up! Woooo!"

      Your body is slung to the door of the van as Hongjoong drifts around the corner, the loud rock music only rivaled by his singing of it. You grab onto the passenger seat infront of you to hold yourself steady. "Does he have to be the one to drive?" You yell to Seognhwa who's in the row of seats behind you, laid across them with a grin.

     "He likes to pretend he's driving The A Team van!" 

        The van skids to a stop infront of the prison, and you have to force yourself to look away least you think about the people who are still being held hostage inside. "C'mon up here, Doll," Hongjoong holds his hand out to you in offering, and you take it. You crawl over the cup holder in the middle and land in the passenger seat, grabbing the bag they had let you pack before dragging you away from your home.

     "Where are we going?" You ask quietly, thankful that Hongjoong had the ears to be able to hear you over his cassette.

      "Back to our stomping grounds," he hums as he hits the button to unlock the doors, letting in the approaching group of people. "Los Aranza, it's in sou-"

     "What's up fuckers?" A young man shouts over the music as he hops into the middle row, making you jump as you look back. He smiles your way kindly, uttering a softer, "hey." 

    Mingi, who throws you a small smile, is climbing in next with a buffer man who immediately gives you the chills and a woman who looks like a sore thumb in the group. 

     Mingi gets in the back with Seonghwa and the woman ends up in the middle seat between the two other men despite her complaints.

"(Y/n), this is Wooyoung," Hongjoong introduces you to the first man, who waves your way. "Lia," the woman returns your awkward smile of a greeting. "And San," who, you don't expect to, leans over the center console and takes you in a sideways hug.

"No touching!" A grumble comes from the back, making San chuckle as he leans back into his seat.

"Nice to meet you," he grins brightly, promptly buckling his seatbelt when he hears Hongjoong start the vehicle back up.

Everyone else quickly copies his actions, and you get the memo the moment before the van lurches to life quickly.

The first few minutes are awkward silence save for the music, which Lia thankfully made the driver turn down.

"So, (Y/n)," Wooyoung starts up, "I don't want you to worry so..." You look back over your shoulder, taking a note of the small freckle under his eye as you search his features. "I just wanted to let you know that we called the state police before we left, it'll take a few hours but the rest of your village won't be stuck in there for too long."

The sentiment gives you the smallest hint of relief, knowing that they won't just be left there to wither until someone would notice that the whole town disappeared off the face of the planet. "Thanks..." You nod shortly, taking the time turned around to inspect the other new faces as well.

Lia has a seemingly familiar set of round and soft features, but you can't quite place it. Nor can you place her ranking in the group. She doesn't smell like a wolf, but you don't want to pry.

San, however, has the clear ego of a beta; chest puffed out and radiating confidence, but not power. He's got a smile that doesn't match any of that though, and that along with his friendly actions make you think he's not as scary as he presents.

You turn back around and face the road, watching the sign for your town wiz past.

"How far to Los A..."

"Aranza! Maybe like... 26 hours?" Lia's words make you look to Hongjoong, who's tapping away at the wheel as he speeds.

"Seonghwa," you call out.

"Hm?"

"Can someone else drive?"

˚➶ ｡˚

Your request was denied, obviously, and everyone had to hang on every time Hongjoong made a turn or hit a bump. Admittedly, it was fun to watch him let loose and sing his heart out while the wind knocked his hair around. That, paired with the surprisingly kind conversation that the pack members made with you made for a good first three hours.

After that, Wooyoung got grumpy. "I'm hungry!"

Then, Mingi chimed in, "I have to use the bathroom!"

Then, San, "My legs asleep! Ow, really Lia?"

When you gave Hongjoong a begging glance, that's when he finally started looking for an exit on the highway.

The mom and pop restaurant was run down and quiet, but you were thankful that that meant less people to see the rag tag team of criminals you were with and potentially cause problems. The van was parked half hazardously in the back by the restrooms, and Mingi was the first out from the back doors, practically dashing into the men's room.

You grab the handle to the passenger side door only to be grabbed on the opposite wrist. You look to the assailant and see Hongjoong with a questioning gaze. "What? I have to...go," you shrug his hand away, opening your door and hopping down before he can stop you again.

You hear some soft foot steps enter the bathroom as you hover, but they don't enter a stall. "Did they send you to babysit me," you groan, nearly slapping yourself as you speak before thinking again.

"Yeah, sorry..." Lia's voice is apologetic, and when you finally exit: her face is as well. "They can be a bit...uhm."

"Paranoid? Overbearing?"

"Yeah," she nods softly, using the mirror she stands infront of to look at you as you wash your hands. The way your shoulders slump and your head hangs low makes her heart ache for you. "I hope we can be friends. You're going to need some in this side of the world."

You look in the mirror in front of yourself, matching her stance as you watch one another through the glasses. "I hope so, too."

     When you join the men back outside, they're all sitting on the curb with plastic bags infront of them. Lia sits in the space between Mingi and San, immediately grappling at the bag the ladder holds out to her. Seonghwa hands you one as well, nodding for you to take it, "yours."

    Inside is two large styrofoam boxes of delicious smelling food, and you look up with your brows pressed together. "This is a lot of food, Seonghwa, I'm not going to eat all of this." You set down one as you open up the other and sit on the warm concrete between the two alphas.

     "You need it, you're still in heat." He hums plainly, dropping a french fry into his mouth as San spits one out from his.

     "Hey!" You yell, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising up your neck.

      "What? It's true." He looks around to his pack members, seeing the three lower men looking away from you while Lia simply shakes her head at him, and Hongjoong nods.

     "He's right, we didn't even fuck- ow!" He glares at Mingi as he slaps him upside the head, "we didn't! We only y'know... messed around."

     "Bro, shut up!" Mingi sends you a quick compassionate glance before turning his face to his food. "You guys have zero tact."

     "Tact? What the hells that?" Hongjoong mumbles from around his burger, "you made that up."

  In defiance of your anger at him, his antics make you smile as you take a bite of food.

˚➶ ｡˚

The next stop the vehicle makes is in the dead of night, the spring moon full and bright.

It was only you and Hongjoong awake when you asked if their promise from earlier still stood: whatever you need and nothing more.

He was quick to peel off the road and park the sleeping group before leading you into the woods to satisfy your once again noisy wolf.

You hate that you nearly start howling aloud when he pushes your back onto a tree, hand behind your head to protect it from the bark, and begins kissing you like he did in your bed.

He takes it a step further, slipping his hand down now that Seonghwa isn't there. His lips meld into yours as he slips his hand under the elastic waistband of your shorts. They travel lower as his fingers do the same, feeling the warmth of your heat which makes him groan into your neck.

When he feels your hands on his shoulders, he closes his eyes and cherishes your touch, letting his wolf drive him forward and press his body to yours in an act of affection which makes you dizzy.

His fingers find their way inside of you, making you gasp toward the stars. His knuckles feel like balls of velvet in your overly sensitive body, driving you nearer and nearer to the cliff of pleasure your wolf desperately needs to dive off of.

        Omega heats are pathetic, you think to yourself as your knees buckle: only being held up by Hongjoongs weight pressing you into the tree as he gives you satisfaction you're incapable of giving yourself.

Thankfully, all too soon, your pleasure reaches its peak and you tumble over it, gushing on his fingers and clinging to him as he kisses the healing mark his teeth left. He wraps his free arm around your back, holding your waist tightly as you tremble. "That's it, Doll..." His voice raises bumps on the flesh of your shoulder, his heavy breaths fanning them.

You can feel his length hard against you, but you're too afraid and too ashamed to acknowledge it and he knows it. But he's content with whatever you give to him in the moment, he doesn't care about his own pleasure as long as his mate is taken care of. He presses his nose into your scent and breathes deeply, letting out a growl as he feels your core clenching.

You feel a sense of dread as you come back to your head fully, watching with wide eyes as he takes his fingers from your shorts and into his mouth. You quickly look away, and hear him chuckling.

"It's okay to want us, Pretty. We're your mates. We want you just as bad."

You share a moment of sincere eye contact before your tears blur his image. "I'm afraid." You confess in a short huff, breathing in the soft wind that surrounds you.

   "Of what? We'll never let anything hurt you." His voice holds a simple directness, he means every word he says and he doesn't see the need to be poetic with it. He just wants to convey the truth to you. "Anyone looks at you the wrong way and I'll gut them. I'll put their head on a pike to show everyone else not to fuck with you."

      With his body once again pressing into you, albeit with a softness that wasn't found in your last heated moment, you find yourself looking down to avoid his wild eyes. He can smell a bittersweet spike of fear in your scent, and his brows furrow together.

     "I'm afraid of you... and of Seonghwa. You frighten me. You don't-" You bite your tongue before you let your emotions speak for you. After a moment, you break your silence, "you don't even know me... and it scares me what you're willing to do. You're criminals. And if... if you don't find me a suitable mate that I'll be next on your list of victims. I didn't ask for this, Hongjoong... I didn't want this."

      His face is stoic for a spell, but his lips slowly curve upward into a bestial grin: followed by the giggles that had haunted your dreams after the first time you heard them. "Oh, (Y/n)," he snickers, eyes closing with the force of his laughter. It rings out in the silent night and mocks you. What could he possibly be finding so funny about your legitimate fears?

     His body collapses into you as he laughs manically, making you freeze with a cry- your body trying to make itself small. You close your eyes, taking sniveling breaths as you will yourself to block out the deranged laughter. "Oh, you're just so adorable!"

    "S-stop laughing at me," you whine, attempting to push his weight off of you as the bark begins digging into your back. He doesn't look it, but he's heavy as all get out as he slumps into you.

     He grips your wrists as you push at his chest and pins them into the tree with his claws caging them in, all laughter gone in a spilt second as he glares down at you. "Now you listen, Doll," he growls between his teeth, making you cry sharper and clench your eyes tighter. He doesn't like that one bit. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, omega!"

You sheepishly open your eyes, too afraid to disobey him even though he's scaring the living daylights out of you with his mood swings. His eyes slowly return to normal, black fading into nothingness at the sight of your fearful eyes.

"Now you listen close, yeah?" He speaks softer than before, kicking your feet apart to stand between them and get closer to you. "You don't quite understand, I think... We could fucking smell you the second we rolled into that place. Now, Seonghwa thought it was a trick- a stupid ploy to get us to be tame. But when you walked into the room, oh we knew it was real! Just one wiff of your fresh scent and my wolf was clawing to get out. Even with that stupid blocker in your neck, we could smell you and that's how we knew. Other alphas won't even understand so it's okay that you don't. But, Doll, you were made for us, and we were made for you. The moon cut us from the same cloth, three pieces from the same puzzle. You were ours the second you were born, and we were yours. We are each others. We are each other. Mind, body, soul, and wolf, we belong to one another. So don't think for a second that we don't know you, okay? We are you. We'll chase you to the ends of the goddamn Earth if we have to. So don't ever fucking say some shit like that again, got it?! I would break open my chest and shove you inside if that's what it took to keep you safe. I'd walk on my hands and knees for eternity if that's what it takes to make you happy! So don't say some shit like that again, am I understood? You are our mate and we will treat you as such, nothing less than a Goddess among wolves and we the Gods that rule beside you. Do you understand?"

You're too busy sobbing, your small sniffles having grown into full blown fat tears and cries during his monologue, to answer him. He withdraws his claws and your arms fall limp to your side. His palms are warm and comforting on your cheeks even as he says firmly, "nod if you understand."

And all you can do is nod pathetically.

˚➶ ｡˚ PART TWO END ˚➶ ｡˚

[mareastrorum]

Hello! I’ve been looking at your blog after Critical Role episodes for a couple of weeks now and I have to agree with you wholeheartedly about pretty much all of it. I wanted to ask you your opinion on the idea that a majority of us are calling Bells Hells the bad guys because all they’re doing is ‘wanting to dismantle the oppressive force that aims to destroy an entire established society of innocent people’. I’m having trouble understanding what oppressive force that is?

Thanks for the ask! There's two parts to this, so I'm going to address them separately.

First, there is no "oppressive force that aims to destroy an entire established society of innocent people." Like, the only group that came close to that in this campaign was the Weave Mind and the Imperium, which intended to take over Exandria in its entirety and subject the entire population to hivemind slavery--but Bell's Hells did little to oppose them. Vox Machina (backed up by an army) demolished the Imperium's main forces at the Exandrian base of the bloody bridge. The Mighty Nein killed the Weave Mind and then started mopping up their allies that remained on Ruidus. Bell's Hells did nothing to support that rebellion other than assist on a scouting/sabotage mission and then flee.

Otherwise, there is no force aiming to destroy society. Ludinus wanted Predathos out so it could eat the gods, and there was no intent about anything other than that. He did not care one way or the other about collateral damage. Predathos doesn't either, but it wants to eat, and we do not know what level of divinity is too small for it to prioritize. And let's be serious, unless a god flees and lures it away, there's no reason for Predathos not to look at a planet full of life and think, "Hmmm, it might not taste good, but I am so fucking hungry."

A good while ago, when the Hells had initially reached Vasselheim, I saw discussion of whether Vasselheim and other Exandrian forces intended to wipe out all Reilorans and other Ruidus-based species. I think Evoroa's plea and assistance made directly to the leadership of Vasselheim has already prevented that potential result. Of course, the Exandrians are working together as a collective of dozens of factions, and each of those has untold numbers of individuals working for them. It's possible some of them will insist on war anyway, but given the actions of the three campaign parties, I don't see that happening on an organized scale. Regardless, Bell's Hells aren't focusing on that right now, and nothing they could/would do with Predathos would affect that either.

The only other faction that comes close to that idea is the Betrayer Gods, but they don't care about society. They want genocide. They want to murder every single mortal in existence, and then torment their immortal souls for all eternity. I literally cannot overstate the disdain the Betrayers have for mortals. They are Exandrians' ultimate enemy. The Divine Gate is the only thing protecting mortals from the Betrayers, and it requires every god to unanimously agree to drop it. That is phenomenal protection. There's been no serious threat to it since its creation.

In particular, I want to highlight that "the gods" as a category of entity are not a united faction. The gods don't rule anything on Exandria--not even Vasselheim. That's a purely mortal project! Mortals decided to build a city dedicated to the gods, and given that it's filled with their followers, the gods have historically spent particular attention to protecting it. That makes perfect sense, and it doesn't mean the gods are in charge of it.

Obviously, there will be other factions across Exandria that could fit that bill, but Bell's Hells hasn't had to deal with them in this campaign. Like, chaotic evil factions exist, they're just not in this story right now.

Next, whether Bell's Hells are villains, bad guys, etc.

I've written up how I assess villains in my pinned post. That's my general approach to any type of story, whether it's interactive, written, oral, etc. It's a very broad overview of when is a villain an effective narrative device? I am rather harsh in my criticism of villains: if they didn't improve the story, they should not have been included at all.

We could cherrypick through the various episodes to come up with an argument that Bell's Hells are the bad guys, but my problem with them is that they aren't effective villains. A villain's primary purpose is to highlight a theme in the negative: what is the wrong thing to do in these circumstances, and why is that? The reason they aren't effective is that they don't have a motivating purpose.

Bell's Hells are a chaotic faction that consistently deviates from whatever is requested of them. They claim to be for the people, then denigrate and oppose every faction they've encountered. They claim to have changed their minds about some of the gods (the Matron and the Arch Heart in particular), then repeatedly ignore or contradict the plain statements told to them, but they still seek out the gods' instructions regardless. This carelessness or apathy makes it impossible to map a philosophy onto the PCs other than "I felt like doing it in the moment."

None of them have been able to articulate a reason that they chose this path. Maybe the players will come up with some hamfisted excuse next episode, but it's still going to be unsatisfying from a narrative viewpoint. This stream had hundreds of hours to show that and instead needs someone to say it in the last episode. It's terrible storytelling, and none of them could claim that it was impossible to see this confrontation coming. We've known it was coming since Ludinus successfully bridged Exandria and Ruidus. There was time, and it was not spent wisely.

Going beyond dialogue, there's no consistency to Bell's Hells's actions except the desire to kill Ludinus. That muddled any potential message that could be conveyed about them as villains in a story except "kill Ludinus in particular." We can't even say they oppose any existing hegemony because none has been established in Exandria. There's no racial, economic, social, religious, etc. group dominating the world. Again, as said above, the gods don't rule anything, and they're stuck behind the gate.

Any potential to build Bell's Hells into worthwhile villains was squandered. Everyone but Orym had an explicit, tailor-made opportunity to lean into their darker personality traits, and every one of them chickened out--except Ashton, who gave into his desire to be special and have power to lash out at people standing over him. Unfortunately, Ashton's attempt to absorb another shard of a primordial would have also broken the game on a D&D level, so that got reversed and reworked into a character moment that also had no lasting impact on his character arc. Ashton hasn't bothered exploring it since. That's really the core problem: every time the PCs had the option to pursue a villainous path, they ran the fuck in the opposite direction, then dithered about what to do.

Without conviction, villains are merely bullies. They're just here to be mean, stop other people from getting what they want, and jeer at others when they get their way. We saw that in this latest episode. There's nothing Bell's Hells wants. They don't even want to be involved. They're just doing it because they can't even commit to going home--because they're player characters in a D&D game, and the players didn't want to switch to new characters.

That makes for a terrible villain story. Like, once we see the final episode and all the PCs have had an opportunity to take action and speak on their own behalf, we'd be able to revisit this with more definitive statements. Unfortunately, I can't think of a single way this could go that would correct the flaws I've already listed. It's far too late to correct the characters' lack of direction to develop a coherent villain arc for any of Bell's Hells.

[noellehdl]

misery business - paramore

pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!Reader

warnings: dark themes, angsty/fluffy, Cat's mind games

summary: 'i watched his wildest dreams come true not one of them involving you' and it's true, you watched Spencer's wildest dream come true and not a single one involves the ghost that haunted his dreams for the longest time.. Cat Adams.

a/n: this is completely based on my personal beef with Cat and the fact that i absolutely love her character and how she is the red line in Spencer's life, reader pov, post prison reid, obviously

the song

w/c: 1137

'she got an body like an hourglass it's ticking like a clock'

When Emily first called you to get her colleague and good friend Spencer out of prison because he was wrongfully arrested and accused of murder and drug dealing you thought it was a twisted joke. At that point you never imagined that the chaotic cause of all of this was a pretty girl with a miserable background. All of you, the whole team, every single one and also you believed that Scratch was behind all of this, until it weas up to you to find the proofs that it was Cat and her girlfriend all along.

'i waited eight long months, she finally set him free'

She loved Spencer, in her twisted, sick way i had trouble understanding. She loved him in ways i couldn't even imagine if i really tried. Still the second he got out of prison and interrogated her, he snaped, and that was the second i started to understand what she saw when she looked at him, the darkness around him like an unsolveable riddle.

'i told him I couldn't lie, he was the only one for me two weeks and we had caught on fire'

While everyone told me how cold Spencer got after prison, he thanked me for getting him out of jail, with flower bouqets, a dinner, and that led us right here, i'm curled up in a self crochet blanket, the one that Garcia made us as a wedding gift. My upper body hugged by one of Spencer's washed out CalTech shirts, our adopted shelter cat Newton demanding attention with soft meows. Spencer sits on the other end of our couch, his large fingers drawing soft patterns on my calve while my feet rest in his lap. His other hand is tracing the printed words of the worn out book he's reading.

'but God, does it feel so good cause I got him where I want him now'

The weather outside is grey and it's the perfect day for cozy couch days. It smells a bit like fresh autumn rain and the green tea Spencer is making in the kitchen when my phone rings in my office. I place Newton next to me, and get in my office, it's chaotic, papers and files laying around, notes everywhere, it smells llike cold coffee and stress whenever i come in here. I answer the call. 'Hello, here's Mrs. Reid, how can i help you?'

'second chances they don't ever matter, people never change'

The voice on the other line is clinical and strictly professional, telling me Cat wants to see me again, she has information regarding Doctor Reid that are interesting for me, according to her.

'well, there's a million other girls who do it just like you Looking as innocent as possible to get to who'

The temperature of the already cold interrogation room drops lower than zero when my eyes met Cat's. 'Hello Kitty Cat, what's the matter?' i say dryly, i played her games for longer than i ever imagined playing anything, not even a good chess party with Spencer.

'But God, does it feel so good 'Cause I got him where I want him right now'

'A ring i see..' her voice is warm but still so calculated i can feel the faint hairs in my neck react to her tone, '.. i take it as a personal offense that i didn't get an invitation.' i almost laugh out loud at her words. 'I'm not here for your twisted games or belated wedding congratulations, tell me what you want.'

'And if you could, then you know you would 'Cause God, it just feels so'

'do you really think he loves you?' she barks in my direction. 'No princess, he's just thankful you got him out of prison, there is no love, he thinks he owes you something.' I swallow the bitter taste on my tongue down. 'You're just jealous he wanted me and not you and if you have no neccessary informations for me, i'll leave you and your demons alone in isolation again.' I get up and grab my things again ignoring the way she calls me replacable and irrelevant in his life, as if she knows anything about me or Spencer. I turn aound on my heels on the cold grey floor. 'And Cat? i watched his wildest dreams come true, not one of them involving you.'

It still leads me back on my couch, looking for Spencer's eyes halfway across the room. His sweet warm brown eyes look up at me, 'Baby what's going on in your pretty mind?' he asks sweet like his tongue is covered in honey. My mind wrestles back and forth with telling him that i saw Cat and not putting more trouble on his comfortable shoulders. I still breath out a bit shaky but steady enough to not worry him further. 'Cat got in my head again for nothing.'

His beautiful face immediatly darkens, his smile falls and the softness in his eyes vanished like it never even existed in the first place, like every time Cat gets mentioned in whatever context it takes.

His sweet voice from seconds ago suddenly feels like a well kept memory and nothing like the presence. 'Cat? You've seen her again? Without asking me first?' with every question his voice raisesand i shrink more and more. 'Don't you think i have a right to know where my fucking wife is?' That's my undoing, i tear up, my cheeks heat up and Spencer immediatly drops on his knees infront of me on he couch. His cold hands brush softly over my slightly red cheeks. 'Baby, hey baby, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to yell at you, shhh'

We end up breathing in sync while i explain my poor baffled husband what the modern personification of a Siren told me when i was in prison. Spencer takes a deep breath and by the way his hands occasionally flex on my knees i can tell he's trying not to snap, even if i know his anger isn't directed towards me.

'Princess, she's wrong. i didn't marry you because i thought i owe you anything. I married you because you were my light in the darkest times of my life.' I felt silent tears run down my cheeks again, this time not because he yelled, but because his words trigger a warm cozy feeling in my chest, little butterflies terrorizing my stomach.

I cup his now softned face in my hands and press my lips against his. A known feeling which still makes me sometimes really flustred, like now. This time will be one of many times that remind me why i married Spencer Reid. He is my safe haven and we can realize all dreams together.

[narcjsistx]

Hihi! Sorry for bothering you!

Could you please do headcanons of Izana's younger sister Reader dating Kakucho? Thank you in advance! Take care<333

— Dating Kakucho as Izana's sister HCS ᡣ𐭩

Your relationship was secret for the first few months. Despite being his most trusted man, you remain the sister of the fucking Izana Kurokawa! You both thought that telling Izana right away would lead to Kakucho's almost immediate death, so for a while you were silent, like: at the Tenjiku meetings you greeted each other a lot from afar, but as soon as Izana wasn't paying attention you held each other's hands

Izana found out thanks to the Haitani brothers, and damn, the brothers regretted opening their mouths when Kakucho had some time to dedicate to them. Izana didn't react as badly as you expected actually, surprised? Absolutely yes. Annoyed? Hmm, maybe a little. Disappointed? No, Kakucho remains his most trusted man

Izana has always been more of a father figure than a brother to you, considering your family situation. He always said that you could only have a boyfriend after the age of 25 and above all he would have to approve it. He is extremely protective of you because you are all he has left of his family, so he is and always will be extremely wary of any guy you ever want to date. Despite having known Kakucho for practically always, when he found out about you two, he had a little chat with him...

Imagine something like this: "So... you're my sister's boyfriend" "Umh... yes, Izana" "I understand" "Izana, I will protect her even if I die for her-" "Oh, really, don't worry! I already know you would. Right?" Izana asks with the most murderous face in the world

Kakucho would LITERALLY give his life for the Kurokawa brothers, both for you and for Izana. He has had this belief since he was little and the concept only strengthened when you became a couple

More than a few times you used nicknames like "babe" or "pretty boy" in front of Izana just to piss off Kakucho. Izana would look badly at both pee for a few seconds and then giggle thinking you're weird

If you are with Kakucho now, someday he will automatically become your future husband. Once it happened that Kakucho and Izana were talking about the relationship and Izana asked him about his real intentions with you. Kakucho, a little embarrassed explained that he simply wanted to make you as happy as he could, and Izana simply responded by saying "If these are your beliefs, put a ring on her finger. I think I can trust you enough to partially leave her to you for life" , let's just say that that night Kakucho fought with his intrusive thoughts telling him to call you and openly state his idea of ​​marrying you the next day even if you are a minor

I think the couple dynamics could be: Out of touch x Out of time, Chaotic x Softboy

[momo-minomo]

Fic Fairy Friday: Tim and Jason Brotherhood

I love Jason and Tim, they're hands down the most chaotic and petty people in their entire family. I wish they'd be teamed up more often in the comics because every time they do the snark and sass is everywhere!

Unfortunately the Batfam fandom has developed a lot of misconceptions about their past and relationship. The main misconceptions are thinking Jason hates Tim and what happened during their fight in Titan's Tower. Fandom thinks Jason came there to murder his replacement and Tim was ruthlessly beaten down and begged for his hero to stop. In reality, Jason had grown to hate the very idea of Robin (a child soldier fighting and dying for Batman's neverending war) and came to Titan's Tower to convince Tim to quit as well as to prove to himself that Tim wasn't better than him and that Bruce didn't just trade up for a better Robin when Jason died. When talking didn't work he decided that to save this kid's life (and prove to himself that he wasn't just an inferior failure) he was going to MAKE him quit.

But if Batman, Alfred, and Lady Shiva can't control Tim Drake Jason didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell so Tim put up a hell of a fight and even when he was bleeding on the floor, barely conscious but always happy to be petty and go for the low blow, he went out hitting Jason where it hurt by defiantly stating that even beaten and bloody he is STILL better than Jason. They've long since patched things up between them, tho, and more than once in the comics Jason has made it clear that Tim is his most trusted brother. There was even that period just before Tim became RR where Jason was trying to recruit Tim to be HIS Robin so Jason could be gun!Batman and Tim was so annoyed and done with him lol. I do still enjoy the accidental brother or woobie Tim fics and will probably link a few exceptional ones here and there but I'd love to see more fics with the two being equals that trust and rely on each other, too.

The Fic Fairy Friday Masterpost

This Dark Ceiling Without a Star by Miss_Lazy_Tuesday

Summary:

“For fuck’s sake, your chatter is going to drive me crazy faster than this stupid spell.” “Then you talk!” “There’s no point!” Jason snaps. “I can feel it, okay. It’s—there’s no emotion behind it, it’s not using my thoughts. It’s just a bunch of weird Greek echoing in my brain and a compulsion to act. And it’s getting stronger. Talking isn’t going to slow it down.” “Then what will slow it down?” After five long seconds of silence, Tim gives into the urge and viciously jabs his fist into Jason’s leg for the second time. “Goddammit, why?” Jason snaps, green briefly sparking in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. “You are not seriously going to just sit there and wait to die.” “The hell do you care anyway?” “Because I don’t want you to die! Obviously!” “You fucking should.”

Momo's Notes: These boys need SO MUCH THERAPY! Tim and Jason are trapped underneath a collapsed building, Tim is slowly bleeding out, and Jason has been cursed to sacrifice himself to help power up a spell. So of course being robins they're going to remain calm, work together, and not spend their precious little oxygen arguing, right? Right? Oh goddammit boys!

Life in the Fast Lane by TheResurrectionist

Summary:

“So, let me get this straight,” Dick said, frowning, “You stole a car, kidnapped Tim, got in a high-speed chase, stole another car, fought a bunch of cartel members, and blew up a chop shop...all to get a minivan back?” “First of all, Timothy was a willing participant,” Jason said, crossing his arms, “And when you put it like that, it sounds bad.” “Jason, it sounds bad no matter how I put it!”

Momo's Notes: It's both refreshing and incredibly funny to see Tim and Jason just being normal brothers that annoy the shit out of each other while they're stealing cars and trying to take down asshole gangs out of costume. This entire fic is just chaotic shenanigans and It's so fun.

Good Fellows by thatcuriouscat

Summary:

After rescuing Bruce from floating around the past, Tim is Not Okay. What comes next after losing everything that really matters? Tim’s got some thoughts. So do the rest of the family. And Ra’s al Ghul. …And the Joker. Jason looks murderous. “God DAMN it, Tim, this was not the situation I had in mind when I generously taught you how to be a younger brother out of the kindness of my heart!” Even more shocked by this, Dick asks incredulously, “You, Jason Todd-Wayne, tried to give younger brother lessons? Where did you even get the audacity?” Jason rounds on him hotly. “Bitch, you wish you knew how to be a younger brother!” “FOCUS,” Tim demands. “We’ve got like, an hour to pull this off.”

Momo's Notes: I know I recommended this one for the Dick and Tim brotherhood recs but this story revolves around the three oldest batbrothers and has equally good characterization and interactions for Jason as it did with Dick. Jason's pov pages are some of the most witty and fun in the whole story and the brotherhood that forms between Tim and Jason over the course of this fic is unique.

The Right Substitution is Key by AddictedApple

Summary:

“The Red Hood has been good for Gotham,” Robin continued. “Crime in Park Row decreased by sixty one percent almost as soon as you showed up, and that’s even taking into account all the crime you commit. Drug overdoses have decreased by twenty two percent in adults and seventy nine percent in minors. Homeless minors are ninety two percent less likely to—” “Kid,” Jason interrupted. “Enough statistics. What the hell is this about?” Robin slowly lowered the tablet with his powerpoint presentation and looked up at Red Hood. “You care about Gotham,” Robin summarized. “Gotham needs Batman. Batman is missing and so is Nightwing. We need you to fill in for Batman.” “You want me to cover Batman’s patrols?” Jason clarified. “No,” Robin said. “I want you to be Batman.” Jason bluescreened. (Or: Batman and Nightwing mysteriously disappear before Red Hood has even started antagonizing them, Robin is desperate, Gotham needs Batman, and Red Hood is Batman-Shaped.)

Momo's Notes: An AU where Jason calmed the hell down before returning to Gotham, both Batman and Nightwing go missing, and Tim doesn't know who this new Red Hood guy is but statistics don't lie, he's making a positive difference in Gotham. That makes him the PERFECT candidate to take over as Batman until they can find him. Jason can't believe ANY of these idiots survived while he was "gone"

a kidnapping a day (keeps the board of directors away) by doingthewritethings

Summary:

And, well. He gets impatient when he’s already in pain. He’s still got fifteen minutes until the meeting is set to begin, and the chances of him slapping Mr. Smith-Harguson so hard that the man’s toupee flies off are rising exponentially by the second. Yeah, that settles it. He needs an excuse to get out of here, and he needs it fast. - for the prompt 'jason todd, lover of fake kidnappings, meets tim drake, lover of chaos', but it... got out of hand. happy pride

Momo's Notes: There are no words for how much I love Batfamily shenanigans and Tim and Jason are always the perfect combo for said chaotic shenanigans! Basically Tim and Jason's version of brotherly bonding is to stage fake kidnappings to get Tim out of whatever soul-sucking responsibility he desperately wants to escape from today starting with a board meeting on a day the chronic pain is especially horrific. This fic also has queer and trans batfam which makes it just chef's kiss

Little Red and the Big Bad Hood by CrzyFun

Summary:

Olivia Draper had been a good idea at first. She could pass for older than Tim could pull off while masculine and women really could get into places easier if they had a pretty face. With makeup and some stylish-yet-inexpensive clothes, Olivia could pull off most undercover ops. She was Tim’s Matches Malone. Then Hood had shown up on the scene. When Jason met Olivia, he hadn't intended to pull a Bruce and take the scrappy teen informant under his wing. She just kept showing up where he was doing business. He had no other choice than to keep an eye on her. And kit her out with armor so she wouldn't accidentally get shot. And make sure she was being treated fairly by her mysterious boss. And, okay, maybe become her big brother.

Momo's Notes: I love a good fic with a genderfluid Tim Drake! This is an au where Tim decided his main alternate ID to gather info would be Olivia Draper rather than Alvin. Cue Red Hood getting very annoyed at the obviously underaged girl sneaking into clubs full of dangerous gangsters. This one is a fun accidental enemy to caretaker with a chaotic and sassy Tim that knows he can get on Hood's every nerve with zero consequences with bonus outraged and annoyed Stephanie!

Last Laugh, First Steps by CloakedSparrow

Summary:

Running a large portion of the Gotham underground as a benevolent crime lord was harder than Jason thought it would be, but still well within the range of what he could handle. All in all, it wasn’t that different from being the type of vigilante Bruce had trained him to be become. He was feeling like he was doing a decent job as part of the Bat Family these days. The Wayne family, he wasn't so sure about. Until he receives an unexpected call from Dick while on patrol one night and the words he hears next change everything. Tim's hurt...the Joker's involved. B and Little D are out of town. Cass is here with me and it’ll take us too long t- “Where?” His death. His anger. His father. His role as a brother, as a son, as a grandson. Jason decides its time to take it all on. If he's going to help his little brother recover, then he's going to have to heal himself as well.

Momo's Notes: This is technically part 42 of a series kind of generically called "Collected Bat-Family Stories" that are actually all set in the same AU. Last Laugh is an amazing entry in the series that can be read as a stand alone fic but I'd honestly recommend going into the series page and starting from the beginning. There are fics in there that aren't Tim or Jason-centric but it's all part of one narrative and Tim and Jason are really the main characters of the whole series and it's so fun to watch their brotherhood grow and deepen. If you're a fan of Wayne Family Adventures I think you'll love this one since the characterizations are very similar imho (aside from Damian but he's slowly growing as a person over the story and will eventually get there).

middle children must unionize by Poteto

Summary: Jason realizes no one is taking care of Tim - not even Tim himself. He decides to do something about it.

Momo's Notes: Jason doesn't like how things went down between Tim and Dick when their big brother gave Robin to Damian and decides if no one else is gonna take care of the 16 year old like the kid he is and not the adult they expect him to be then he'll just have to step up and do it himself.

Playlists:

[chvoswxtch]

I still haven’t emotionally processed episode four and I probably never will but if you’re interested in my chaotic ramblings pls step into my office below

first of all frank waited ten fucking years to get his lick back he is the pettiest bitch alive and I am here for it 

he said bitch I didn’t forget when you said “boo hoo who’d you lose” reverse uno altar boy 

“how bout old foggy, he get life?”

FRANCIS DAVID CASTIGLIONE HOW DARE YOU 

also the fucking hand clapping while saying I don’t have time for your candy ass hero shit he’s so fucking sassy pls 

the juxtaposition between wanting to cream seeing our boys back together onscreen but also wanting to scream bc that whole interaction was so raw and brutal and wrecked me and not in the slutty way like I wanted

I wanna talk about how matt either knew where frank was this entire time or he knows frank’s heartbeat and scent and tracked him there which is stupid romantic 

I don’t wanna talk about how frank didn’t even raise his hands to defend himself and would’ve let matt keep hitting him 

I don’t want to talk about matt’s whole monologue about foggy bc I will never emotionally recover from that

I do want to talk about how 3 different people kept emphasizing to matt that the system is broken and does not work that was definitely not a coincidence 

I do want to talk about matt being a slut and flirting to reduce a prison sentence 

also the end?? adam screaming “let me out” while matt is on the roof with his billy club after trying to not let the devil out for 4 episodes??? the fucking parallels my GOD

each fucking episode just keeps getting better and better 

honorable mention fisk nearly crashing out having to sit though 2 choir performances had me HOLLERING

I also want to do a lil check in since we only have five episodes left of this half of this season-

I have seen a lot of people say this matt feels “out of character” and I think that’s the point. it’s supposed to be uncomfortable. there’s a lot of underlying tension in this season, it feels like something is building and we’re all waiting for the eruption. this is not the matt we saw in the original series. we will probably never get that matt back. this is season 3 matt but like times ten. he said he would rather die as the devil than live as matt murdock and he definitely “died” the night foggy was killed, in his daredevil suit on that roof. he also pushed dex off the roof, and although dex didn’t die so it wasn’t murder, matt still attempted to kill him, which still counts as crossing a line in his own head

matt is not living, he’s existing. he is a hollow shell of who he used to be. he lost everything that made him who he was

foggy, his best friend and moral compass. karen, his other best friend and voice of reason. he lost the two people who were essentially the only family he had left in the world. he lost his home, he told fisk he doesn’t go back to hell’s kitchen and doesn’t live there anymore. he lost his faith, he’s not going to church anymore. and he lost daredevil, his outlet to let his darker half out that made him feel like he was making a difference. this man is lost

the term “born again” is usually used to describe a religious transformation. I don’t think calling the show born again was just about matt returning as daredevil. I think it’s us seeing matt at his absolute lowest, hitting rock bottom, losing every sense of who he is, and then watching him rise from the ashes

I truly thought hector being murdered was gonna make matt lose his shit but now I’m very curious what’s going to make him actually snap and put the suit back on. I think the main reason he's fighting it so hard is to honor foggy's memory. foggy's last words to him were "I didn't want to give you a reason". foggy always wanted matt to put his faith in the system and do things the "right" way and matt is trying to do that but he's clearly struggling, because he has no faith in anything anymore

I have a lot of ideas about what I think is going to happen this season but I’d love to hear what y’all think so feel free to ramble with me or just scream or cry we can do that too

[aq2003]

okkkk some jumbled thoughts from my 3rd macbethening, this is a combination of things related to the film version plus just the production in general because i love it so much

i don't think i'll ever stop being floored by the opening scene. the music, macbeth's expressions (the exhausted, haggard way that he moves as the praises for his viciousness on the battlefield ring out behind him)... i'm deranged forever. bonus points this time for the close-ups on his face

the macbeth's embrace when they first reunite is so tender :( the way they hold onto each other :(

thanks to me having the soundtrack on loop i noticed a few interesting things re: the soundtrack. for instance the motif of the psalm first plays when duncan is naming malcolm heir (although much less dark and creepy i think). then it comes in at full force when macbeth is crowned king

it was stated in the traveling folk interview that iomar ò illean mhara was the song played at the irl funeral of duncan, and quite fittingly the first time it plays in the production is when lady macbeth welcomes duncan to inverness. though over the course of the play it definitely becomes lady macbeth's theme and plays over/in between her most pivotal scenes (including before and after the sleepwalking scene and right before her final exit). this makes me think about the parallels between them and how duncan's ghost haunts her (this production keeps the line about him reminding her of her father...!) def need more time to marinate in this

love the bird's eye view of macbeth bowing to duncan (and how it establishes a visual parallel w/ him on the ground before getting crowned, and him being lifted up by the witches)

LOVE how the ceilidh was filmed, it was even more stunning (!) than when i saw it live although that may have been where i was sitting lol

the only parts of the film version i don't think live up to when i watched it live were the "stars hide your fires" scene (i would like to see more of the slo mo clapping!) and the final fight (i think the choreography prob improved when staging it at the harold pinter, it was cleaner and less chaotic having everybody come at macbeth from only two directions)

of course it is stated in the credits that the "child" role is fleance, the macduffs' son, and young siward, but there are a few moments i think are solidly the ghost of the macbeths' child (he's behind the glass the whole time). when he appears over lady macbeth welcoming duncan to inverness, when he's walking along to the ceilidh (and you see him between the macbeths during the time-slow bit), and when he's frantically knocking as the macbeths dance together (after they resolve themselves to murder duncan). in this way i think he serves both as the embodiment of their reason to kill duncan and the embodiment of their guilt

the big, single knock of the ensemble behind the glass before macbeth has his monologue abt how "every noise appalls him".... the hands pressing against the glass when macbeth talks abt how he'll never sleep again..... so delightfully creepy. i love it so much.

i didn't have a good enough angle to see it either time i watched it live but the Look between the macbeths after lady macbeth pretends to "faint" was so good... i think dt's macbeth makes me actually believe that him killing duncan's servants was like this fucked up manifestation of his guilt and "violent love" and he was dissociating badly + didn't know what he was doing. anyway now in this scene he's making himself look insanely guilty so lady macbeth has to take everyone's eyes off of him for a hot second. love how the murder power couple are kind of cringe fail in their own funny way

the very uncomfortable look that the murderers share with each other when macbeth brings up killing fleance. suuuuuch a good touch to that scene

you all know i am a huge fan of the dagger soliloquy cuz it was macbeth grabbing at his own shadow, macbeth as the "dagger", resolving himself to be more a weapon than a man, etc, but also this theme is repeated in his last monologue in 3.2! he talks to his shadow again when he's justifying arranging the murders of banquo and fleance to himself. OOF

in my notebook for one of my points i just wrote "3.4!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" cuz, obviously, david's acting in this scene is just fucking riveting and still gives me full body chills. also, staging note, i love that when he hallucinates the ghost for the second time everyone at the "table" moves away and it's like we're not watching him lose it in the eyes of everyone else we're being fully dunked into his head as he completely unravels

i think i like both the donmar and harold pinter versions of the 2nd witches scene equally! the choreography for the donmar version is a lot cooler and makes the witches feel more otherworldly but the harold pinter version connects it back to the theme of macbeth's trauma and grief and how the witches take root in that

i think it's just the fact i could see her expressions better but i teared up during the sleepwalking scene.. like aughhhhhh cush jumbo you came for my knees!!!!!!!!

the deranged grin on macbeth's face when he disarms macduff and he says "thou losest labor" i am soooo. i am SOOOOOOO. [chews on my arm]

BIG POOL OF BLOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! RAHHHHHHHH