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softaestluv · 3 months ago

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Guard Dogs

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor! Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, & Pt. 5 (final part!)

This chapter will contain smut! 18+ content!

Tags: Smut, Cunnilingus, oral, vaginal fingering, creampie

Summary: You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

Ghost used to believe he favored winter more than summer, despised sweltering days when sweat trickled from his mask. Gathered wet pools in his collarbone, dried sticky on his skin. At least during winter he could blame the cold in his home on the weather rather than the loneliness.

But now he isn’t entirely sure, not when he knows your warmth, makes the cold almost tenfold without you.

He decides it may just be when it brings you to his doorstep, rainstorm rumbling behind your standing figure. He lets you in despite running away from your home less than a week ago. Doesn’t let his pretty bird stand in the storm for long.

“My power went out, it’s dark and cold over there,” You explain, swiping your tongue over bitten dry lips, “Is it okay if I stay here until morning? I didn’t know where else to go.”

His girl was scared was she? Came to him for rescue.

Almost snickers at the irony, came to his home, the same walls he only felt alone and frigid in. Yet you stand at his doorstep, seeking refuge like he could provide you with the same warmth and comfort your home does, that you do.

So, he sets a kettle of tea for the both of you. Joining him quietly in the kitchen, leaning against the opposite side of the counter he is. He keeps his eyes on the stove, doesn’t exactly plan to fill the awkward tension with anything more than the boiling water. Small talk wasn’t his strong-suit, and he definitely didn’t want an explanation from you.

Why would he need one? The two of you were nothing but neighbors, friends if that.

However, the silence seems to bother you; he knows it does when you speak up, “How are you?”

“Been fine,” He huffs, handing a steaming cup of tea to you.

And because he doesn’t want to know how you and your new boyfriend have been he doesn’t ask.

“That’s good, I’m glad,” Give him a tight smile in return.

The room becomes silent again, the sound of both of you drinking tea fill the kitchen. Even after the both of you are done drinking, no words are said, gazes avoided as the light tapping of your fingernails against the glass replaces the slurping, loud even between the pitter of the rain outside.

“Don’t you get it?” You finally ask, laughing remorsefully under your breath, continue once he tilts his head at you, “It’s you.”

He still doesn’t understand what you mean, brows furrowing together under his mask.

You sigh, “There’s no one else, I don’t have a boyfriend. I was talking about you, Simon.”

“What are you talking ‘bout?”

“You’re who I have waiting for me at home. You’re who I want to spend time with. Who I want to come home to. Well I don’t mean it like you’re sitting waiting around for me, it’s just,” You begin to ramble, trying to explain your emotions while your face warms, turns the pretty pink he has grown to love.

The rest of your words don’t matter to him, his balaclava is forgotten on the floor, insignificant. A stupid barrier between him and his bird. Breaks the distance between the two of you in two quick strides. Has you hoisted on his kitchen counter in a second, lips stamped to yours. Your words swallowed down between his lips, dissolved into a muffled yelp.

It’s intense, cups his palms around your jaw so tightly you can’t even think about pulling away from him, but you kiss back with the same intensity. Makes his head spin at the sheer way you reciprocate, doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this before. Like your life depends on it. As if you intended to take the breathe from his lungs, trying to portray your emotions through your lips.

The past months poured out of his chest and into your pretty mouth, but your own desires fill his chest, leave him impossibly warm and full. The pain of just looking, watching for so long without being able to touch or taste had him digging shallow indents into your skin, didn’t want to let go. Though you don’t seem to mind his strong hold, only cling to him in turn, curling your arms around his neck. Trying to pull him closer as if your proximity wasn’t nearly enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He rasps against your lips, hot air blowing over your cheeks.

“Thought I was making it pretty clear,” You chuckle lightly, “Figured you didn’t want me like that.”

“Are you kidding me?” Simon says, “You don’t get it.”

Presses his lips against yours again, even if he has more he wants to say. Doesn’t exactly know how to balance pouring his heart out to you and sealing your mouths as one. So, he tries to do both, breathing hushed words between kisses.

“Thought it was too good to be true. You don’t get it,” He repeats, because, really, he thinks you don’t understand.

Don’t understand that he thinks you’re too good for him. That it doesn’t make any sense that someone like you would want someone like him. Broken and damaged when you were anything but.

Accepted what you were willing to give him without pressing for more, even if he wanted to fuse himself with every dimple and blemish on your body. He almost doesn’t believe it. It’s not what he deserves, some educated man should be in his spot. A man that isn’t tainted in filth and blood.

A better man.

And yet, you kiss him like he is the only who deserves you. Look up at him like he hung the fucking stars. He would— if he could, string them bright and twinkly above your pretty head.

Doesn’t think you truly understood how much his fingertips ached everytime he forced them to clench onto something other than your soft body. How hard he had to dig his teeth into his knuckles when he climbed into bed after he shared dinner with you. Stomach still full, pretty voice still ringing in his ears, cock heavy in his palms.

“You’re all I wanted,” He confesses, “Wanted to come home to you every day.”

Don’t understand that he never wanted anything more.

“And what if I did have a boyfriend?” You ask, “Would you just let me go that easily?”

Can’t help the way he holds you a little tighter. Something possessive burns in his throat now that he knows the taste of your lips.

“Don’t wanna think ‘bout that. Doesn’t matter anymore. I have you now, don’t I?” He grunts against your neck, breath warm on your skin, “Riley and I were yours, always. Tried to show you that.”

Your next words— if you can call them that, are nothing more than breathless quakes. Make his cock throb painfully in his pants; you’ve been nothing, but sensible, sophisticated, but now you sound so frail, impatient.

“Show me then, Simon.”

The way your gaze sharpens is cue enough for him, doesn’t need to be told twice. Won’t miss another opportunity or wait another second to make you his. He wasn’t exactly eloquent, couldn’t express what he wanted with his words. Opts to use his roughened hands the only way he knows how.

Takes your plump thighs into his hold because as much as he’d like to bend you over his kitchen counter, lap at your pussy like all the endless pies you’ve made him, he’d much rather prove he could satisfy you in his bedroom. Fuck you wet and sticky into his mattress.

It’s a mess of limbs, stumbling down the hall as you plea his lips not to leave yours for more than a second. He almost stops at his couch, bumping clumsy into it on his venture, but he decides splitting you in two over the arm would be for another day.

The kiss turns lewd as he carries you, smacking lips messily, saliva sloppily smeared against tongues and roofs of mouths, teeth knocking together. Though it doesn’t deter you, only slot your lips against his more earnestly. Barely manages to drop you onto his bed before you’re pawing at him to join you.

Yanks your clothes off like they personally offended him, feet and arms getting stuck in the tangles of clothes. His own follow soon at your sweet request, both of you stripped to your underwear.

It’s almost impossible to keep his hands on just one part of your body. Probably spends entirely too long palming your round breasts, pinching your pert nipples, kneads the doughy meat of your sides and hips. Large hands everywhere and nowhere at once, like he needed to touch every inch of your body, wasn’t enough until he did. Hypnotized by the way your supple flesh spills between his fingers, how you arch into his touch with breathy whines.

It’s overwhelming being able to touch you however he pleases after holding back for so long. Makes his touch that much more firm, calloused and scarred fingers scratching your smooth skin. Can’t fucking decide what he wants to do first because he wants to do all of it.

But when he descends between your body, peeling your underwear off so you lay bare for him, and his eyes land on your pussy, soaked and pretty for him, he loses all reason.

He spreads your thighs wide, must be hovering close, feel his hot breath on your wet cunt because you whimper a quiet ‘oh Simon, please.’

And because he can’t deny his girl of anything, especially when you ask so sweetly, his tongue swipes between your folds, dragging slowly to your clit. Something carnal washes over him as he repeats the motions like he’s pussy-drunk, intoxicated by the pretty noises you let slip past your lips.

Surprises himself when he groans deep and beastly against your sensitive flesh. Hadn’t even realized he had been making noises between each wet lap and harsh suck. Too inebriated by your arousal, melting on his tongue smoother than any plate you’ve placed in front of him.

Spreads your glistening cunt open between his thumbs, burying your face into the pillows from the way he openly examines you. Breaking you down and peeling you apart under his intense stare. He doesn’t mind too much, not when he drags a finger between your folds, dipping the full length into you. Causes you to snap your head forward, give him such a pretty moan when he plunges a second finger in. Spongy walls popping around his thick digits, slowly works you stretched and opened. Until he could comfortably burrow to the knuckle with each stroke.

Deliberately kept it slow, drawing out each glide so only his fingertips remained. Took his time breaking through your wet entrance, enjoyed the desperate little mewls you released above him too much to give you anything more. Strong and deft hands bring his pure girl ecstasy, gentle despite the way he’s used them to hurt others.

Wasn’t pleased until your thighs began to tremble either side of his head, hoists them on his shoulders to settle them. Smushed his face against the fat of your thigh, decorated the skin in his lips and teeth.

“More, more mmph— Simon, please.”

Can’t hide the smile that breaks across his lips, pressed teeth to your thigh from the way you whimpered his name. Sounded so pretty coming from your lips, begged so sweetly for him. He rewards you, wraps the cushion of his lips around your swollen clit and smothers his tongue over the bead in calculated strokes.

Your hips buck away from his stimulation, loud cry muffled against the sheets when he suctions the bead. A firm arm bands around your waist, holds you down to take it, wouldn’t let you escape his grasp that easy. Doesn’t stop until you finish on his tongue and around his fingers, hiccuping on your breaths as you stiffen. Your palm wrapped tightly around his wrist on your hip, dig indents into his flesh as he works you steady through it. Slick gathering in his palm and between his knuckles.

He rests between your thighs a little longer, not quite trying to overstimulate you, but rather staining your taste in his throat. Both of you basking in your orgasm.

When he crawls on top of you, you blink lazily at him, half-lidded and dilated. Swipe your thumb across his chin to wipe your collected slick off. He doesn’t let you move far, chases after your thumb and sucks it clean, makes you inhale a sharp breath through your teeth. Kisses the pad gently when he’s done, trails soft pecks down your palm and arm, over your shoulder to your chin. Stops when he reaches your lips, taking your chin between his index finger and thumb.

“Wanted to know how you tasted for so long,” He murmurs, lips brushing against yours with each word.

Your fingers find the nape of his neck, scratching at the short blonde hair, “Thought about you every night after dinner. Kept hoping you would just eat me instead.”

Simon’s eyes flutter, exhaling through his nose like a bull, “Was so hard to keep my hands to myself, you know that, sweetheart? Especially when you look like this.”

Emphasizes his words by squishing the plush of your hips, “Couldn’t stand thinking you were in some other blokes bed.”

Hooks his hand under your knee, pushing it higher slightly, adjusting his own hips between your legs. You’re soft and pliant, just how he imagined his girl would be, let him bend you how he sees fit.

“But you weren’t, were you?” He hums, “Just perfect and proper for me like always, huh?”

Nudges the bulb of his cockhead along your swollen folds, catching on your welcoming entrance.

You nod your head weakly, “Yes, Simon, only you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck as he pushes forward. Puffy walls splitting open for him, stretch for his girth, slick aiding in the glide. Feels you dig your fingers into his shoulders, hears your breaths stutter in your throat. Purrs gentle praises into your ear to ease the thick stretch.

His pretty bird was such a good girl, wasn’t she? You can take it, knows you can.

Bottoms out in your pussy, gives you a minute to adjust before you’re slurring pleas against his neck. ‘Oh, Simon, s-so big. Feel so good, oh fuc- please move? Please, Simon?’

So he does, can’t hold back when you sound like that. Give you anything you ask for.

Grinds his hips shallow and slow, makes a steady pace of it. Tangles your legs around his hips, locking them at his back, keeps the two of you pressed together. Broad chest smashed against your smaller one, impossible to move far from your aching cunt. His strokes are languid, gentle. Softer than he’s used to, but he doesn’t intend to fuck the sensation away with hurried and inept thrusts.

He wants to remember how every ridge in your pussy feels, memorize and store each shuddered breath and strained moan you give him. Needs you to feel cherished, the way your warmth has made him feel for months. Wants you to feel each inch of him, molding your walls into his shape until it’s all you ever knew.

You seem to agree, only squeeze your legs tighter around him as if to keep him tucked to your cervix. Though it’s not like he could even imagine pulling away from your searing flesh, plans to keep himself buried inside your pussy for as long as he can.

It’s intimate, almost too tender, but not nearly enough at the same time. As if the way you cling desperately to him, keep him pressed skin to skin doesn’t appease your ache. Like the way his entire shaft finds a home in your pretty cunt isn’t close enough. Decides to intertwine the both of your fingers together, pulls you from his neck so he can rest his forehead against yours.

But your eyes flutter shut, brows furrowing together with each determined stroke. Kiss swollen lips caressing his with each mewl, joins the obscene noises in the room. A mixture of squelches and whined ‘Simon!‘

“What’s t’matter baby?” He coos, wipes the sweat-slicked hair on your temples, “Tell me, huh?”

“Simon, nmmf—oh god. Right there, please right there. Please, don’t stop.” You beg.

He doesn’t.

Fucks you through it, balls sticky with your slick.

“Yeah?” He hums, “Right there, baby? Liked that?”

Your voice cracks over a high-pitched moan, can’t answer with a full sentence when his fat cock plunges deep, rakes against the spongy flesh that has your toes curling and back arching. Watches as you unravel on his length, walls clinging to him after each drag. Mouth slacked when three fingers find your clit. Swipe steady strokes in tandem with his thrusts.

You finished just like that, wrapped around his cock, walls clenching painfully tight, spamming and twitching with each pulse. White froth gathering at the base of his cock.

“That’s it, there we go,” He praises, “My pretty fucking girl.”

Doesn’t even care how he sounds or really, think about the words spilling from his lips.

“So good for me, yeah? She takes me so well,” He continues, talks you through your orgasm, words slurred, “Such a good girl. My sweet girl. Gonna make you all mine.”

You nod frantically babble for him to. Tell him you want nothing more than to be his. And he has every intention to, buries himself to your cervix and paints you as his.

It takes him a moment, bodies still conjoined between your legs even though he went soft long ago. Fingers still intertwined beside your pretty head, basking in your warmth and sweet kisses. Separating is difficult, but the moisture begins to dry tacky on your skin, sticky between your thighs. Becomes uncomfortable, so the two of you take a shower, wash each other clean.

Pride beats his ego when he has to keep an arm around you. Standing under the water, legs numb beneath you. And because you’re too sweet for him, you scratch his scalp while he holds you close. Mollifies under your touch, water drenched kisses shared between quiet giggles.

You return to the bed with him once again. Pulls your bare skin flush against his, tucks your head under his chin, arms banding your hips. Holds you tight through the night, possessive and protective. Doesn’t plan to ever let go. Not when his terribly cold bed melts warm in your presence. Sheets encased in your heat, stinging his fingertips and toes. It’s almost too hot, palms clammy against your pretty skin, but he doesn’t pull away.

Doesn’t care that sweat beads at his back when this is the closest his bed has felt like a bed and not a mattress with coiled springs and worn duvets. The most his house has felt like a home instead of four walls of brick and drywall.

Sleep doesn’t come easy, not when he wants to savor the moment for as long as he can, but your warmth lulls his eyes heavy and tired.

When the morning comes, he thinks it might be a sweet dream— a rare occurrence in his mind. But there you lay, fast asleep in his arms still. He can’t keep his hands to himself when he sees you. Meaty paws trace your figure, pushes the blanket low so he could get a pretty view of your smooth skin.

His touch rouses you, shifting in his arms to turn your backside to him. Mumble a groggy morning to him, muffled against his pillows.

You’re even more malleable than last night, lift your leg so sweetly for him when his hand descends between your thighs because he thinks he might be addicted to you. Whimper quietly into the sheets when he slides home, fucks you lazy and slow. Little more than sex, just wants to relish in your warmth.

Gets to experience one of the lazy Sundays he always watched you take from afar, except now he’s participating. Glass barrier nonexistent, not when you’re in his bed, whining his name against his lips.

Shatters it for him, makes his house a home.

The weekend ends too soon, isn’t ready to leave your cocoon quite yet, but you wake up beside him when Monday morning comes. Ask if him and Riley are going to join you on your run.

They do.

He was sure Riley wouldn’t want anything more.

Leaving each other for work proves difficult, almost stays so he could remain in your contented warmth. He doesn’t, bleeds the taste of your lips in his mouth instead.

And when he does return home, he returns to you and Riley. Greet him with a pretty smile just like you always do, place a plate of fresh food in front of him. Eat dinner together, like you two always used to, Riley snuggled on your couch, but now instead of walking across the street, he stays.

Thank you so much for all the likes/reblogs/comments! I’m so happy you guys enjoyed it as much as I have! 🍒💌❤️

Cross posted on my Ao3 here, as well as all my other fics!

Tag list: @ttznlettt @rainschnael @rockinraccoons @crypticenbug @c1garette-nightmares @keepghostly @l3thal-l0lita @terrifiedanimegirl @migueloharacumslut @tine1603 @whoisteona

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milkoomi · 5 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ a new canvas means a new you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

a mini series on the art of becoming a better you

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

chapter four — THE ART OF SELF RESPECT

when you live a life where you don’t respect yourself, your boundaries, your health, your mind, your emotions; just anything about you, you’ll end up living a life where you’re walked all over, where people take advantage of you, where you’ll find no successes or achievements— you live a life feeling lost and feeling empty, feeling like your mission in life is to be meaningless. we’re taught to respect others, but we’re never taught to respect ourselves. we, as individuals, need to have the highest level of respect for one person. that person being us.

ᥫ᭡. where to start

decenter men

i was talking about this the other night with my best friend, but way too many people (women, men, trans women/men, literally anyone) center their lives around men. the patriarchy has stolen so many people’s individuality, stripping them of finding their own personality, their own interests, opinions, hobbies, etc. and that is one of the main reasons people don’t have any self respect. decenter men.

a man should not, and never define who you are as a person. a man should never make you feel like you are undeserving of your own successes. a man should never make you feel any less than what you truly are! men should never be a source of validation for you as a person. it doesn’t matter if you’re a man yourself (cis or trans), it doesn’t matter if you’re a woman (cis or trans), and it doesn’t matter if you’re nonbinary/gender-nonconforming; you should never ever— and i mean ever— center your ideals, thoughts, opinions, hobbies, interests, and your entire self and life around a man.

too many people are so focused on men and what men think about them. and let me just give you some food for thought: when have you ever done something solely for yourself without the back thought of a man’s approval? i’ll admit, back in high school i spent all four years thinking about men and seeking validation from a man. from my freshman year all up until my senior year i was in back to back relationships because i couldn’t even fathom the thought of being without a man. and you know what that did for me? it made me miserable, it made me more insecure, and it made me put myself into situations that the person who i am now would be insanely repulsed by because what the fuck was i thinking? majority of my teenage years were spent centering my life around men, and i was miserable.

now, at my current age at this point in my life, i am so unbelievably lucky to be engaged to the man of my dreams, but! i remember when my partner and i first started dating, my therapist asked about 5-6 months into my relationship, “do you feel like you depend on him for your happiness?” and it made me think, “oh my god, what if i am? what if all the anxieties i have about my relationship are because i rely too much on him for my own happiness?” while my relationship with him is the healthiest, happiest, and most healing relationship i’ve ever been in, i had to learn to be okay with being by myself; with being in the company of my own, without him, because i can’t depend on him for company or happiness or peace— i have to depend on myself for those things, and he’s just my wonderful partner that i get to enjoy and experience life with. he’s not my entire life. he’s only a part of it.

you have to learn to be happy and to find peace with being by yourself. your whole life can’t be surrounding the idea of a man.

here are a couple posts that i’ve found to be really helpful with how to decenter men:

“decentering men and recentering yourself” by @honeytonedhottie

“how to decenter men” by @femmefatalevibe

stop seeking validation from others

not only do people seek validation from men, they seek validation from literally anyone. parents, teachers, bosses, friends, classmates, colleagues; people are looking from validation from all the wrong sources. you, yourself, should be the only person you seek validation from. you should be setting your own standard from yourself.

again, looking for validation from any outside source only makes you lose yourself more and more in the process. you forget all about what you want and need from yourself because you’re so focused on what other people need and want from you. validate yourself, affirm yourself, just be there for yourself. you don’t need anyone or anything else telling you that you’re doing something right. you’ll know what’s right for you because you should know yourself better than anyone else!

set boundaries

chapter three was all about learning how to say no and how to set boundaries, so i highly recommend going back to that chapter and reviewing it since i go more in-depth on that topic!

setting boundaries for yourself is one of the best things to do to regain your self respect. knowing what exactly you want from yourself and from others and setting that line will not only protect your happiness and peace, but it will also show an immense amount of respect that you have for yourself to others who may think that they don’t have to respect you.

ᥫ᭡. self respect as a whole

respecting yourself means respecting your peace, your privacy, your thoughts, your opinions, your emotions; you as a person. it protects you from things and people that could potentially harm you, whether it’s physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually.

protect your peace. protect your happiness. protect your mind and your body. when you disrespect yourself by partaking in an overuse of harmful substances, having unprotected sex with someone you don’t even have a genuine connection to, or accepting behaviors from someone who’s constantly hurting you or betraying your trust you become a doormat for people to walk all over you in life.

i have known too many people, myself included, who disrespected themselves and faced one too many hardships in life. it makes us miserable and that misery turns into so many mental health issues that can sometimes cause too much harm that it makes it 100 times more difficult to recover.

self respect doesn’t have to be hard. you can always start small by just taking care of yourself! this has been a recurring theme in this series, but here i am to say it again: prioritize yourself! respect that you have needs and wants and do things for yourself that make you feel good and that benefit you. self care is vital, and respecting the fact that your own health needs to be in check is a wonderful first step towards gaining more self respect.

you have to show up for yourself, you have to immerse yourself in activities/hobbies/media that’s actually good for you— not what you think is good for you, you have to be kind to yourself, and you have to love yourself, babes. seriously, self respect can be a really simple thing at the end of the day and it can come so easily to you if you just let it be. don’t make your life harder by disrespecting yourself.

ᥫ᭡. final notes

we’re nearing the end of this mini series! chapter five will be the final chapter! i’m so thankful that this series has been shown so much love so far and i hope that it’s been able to help you guys as much as it helped me! i know i’ve been writing all of these, but something about creating content like this really motivates me to keep moving forward with my own self improvement journey.

i hope you guys always know i’m with you every step of the way in this journey. you never have to walk it alone, trust me! i know i always talk about being there for yourself, but other people (who are genuinely worth it, of course) can be there for you too! we’ve all got the same goal: to better ourselves. it’s going to be a difficult and long journey, but we’ll make it together!

with lots of love, juno 🌷

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checkeredflagggs · 3 months ago

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The Story of Us: Chapter 4

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 4 of 5, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky.

a/n4: Also timelines? Never heard of them. This is set in 2024 but I’ve moved Miami to before Australia and changed some of the results of races.

a/n5: sorry this one took so long! Been dealing with some stuff

Masterlist | Taglist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Valentine’s Day

y/n

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 17,824,192 others

y/n: the vault is open and it’s treasures are yours.

In the process of writing and polishing up my albums, certain songs have been put aside, treasured but not shown the light. Now it’s time that changed — time for the secrets to come out.

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user1: oh my god yes

↳user2: banger after banger after banger

↳user1: as always!

oscarpiastri: why must I suffer…

↳logansargeant: 🤣🤣

↳landonorris: I don’t like your tone young man

↳oscarpiastri: you are 2 years older than me

↳landonorris: respect your elders!

↳oscarpiastri: whatever you say old man

↳oscarpiastri: as long as you stop squawking about the garage trying to sing

↳user3: so brutal…

↳landonorris: YOU MUPPET

user4: FAVORITE SONG? And if it isn’t All Too Well (10 minute version) you’re wrong

↳user5: Electric Touch!

↳charles_leclerc: timeless!

↳maxverstappen1: say don’t go

↳user6: babe!

↳pierregasly: is it over now?

↳carlossainz55: you all over me

↳lilymhe: Slut!

↳user7: better man obviously

↳alex_albon: Mr. Perfectly Fine

↳alexandrasaintmleux: when Emma falls in love

user8: she still has the grid all up in her comments…

↳logansargeant: they were fighting in the group chat on who’s the biggest fan

↳user8:😂😂 drag them!

↳alex_albon: mate…

↳logansargeant: it was 3:30 in the morning and I couldn’t sleep because of your stupid fight idk anymore

user9: this is the best thing happening so far this year

↳user10: right? Better then some sitcoms

user19: secrets come to light!?!?

↳user53: they’re totally gonna reveal themselves soon right?

↳user19: within the week is my guess!!!

↳user11: you guys are freakishly in sync

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

f1gossip

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, estebanocon and 92,913 others

tagged: georgerussell63, lewishamilton, landonorris, oscarpiastri, estebanocon, pierregasly, maverstappen1, hulkhulkenburg, kevinmagnussen, alex_albon, logansargeant, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc

f1gossip: I Can See You…talking about y/n and her newest album! The fanstage this weekend at Imola was full of people asking the drivers their thoughts on y/n, her newest album, the Eras tour, and even their thoughts on her emerging relationship!

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user12: one of the best fan stages ever

user13: worth getting up at the ass crack of dawn to watch

user14: I think you mean it was full of them getting asked a tangentially related question and yapping nonstop about her until someone managed to cut in?

↳user15: thank god I wasn’t the only to catch that…

↳user14: you’d have to be blind deaf and dumb to miss is…

↳user16: that’s describing about 50% of the grid when talking or thinking about y/n then…

↳user14: 😂😂😂

user17: poor Oscar, Logan, and Nico looked so done

↳user18: if the past is to be believed, Oscar probably spent the last week listening to Lando try to belt out the entire album…

↳user20: oh dear 🤣

↳user18: and as user19 says…Logan has been dealing with the grid and their girlfriends flirt with his girlfriend for a couple of months now.

↳user19: I vote he just goes bowling this weekend. Knock them all out liked by not_y/n, not_logan, not_oscar

user19

liked by user53, user, user and 18,012 others

user19: I’m guessing the Logan and y/n relationship reveal is happening very very VERY soon. Tonight all of y/n’s outfits were of the blue variety (excluding, of course, the reputation bodysuit and Red combos). I’m guessing she wore blue to publicly support Logan (especially after that shit vowles pulled in Australia). My guess is this weekend — after tonight she has a 5 day break (enough time to jet over to Italy for Sunday’s race and still make it back for the start of the New York shows)

view all comments

user21: I believe it

↳user22: after the last few months of following along with the crazy conspiracy theories…yeah I do too

↳user19: y’all should have just believed me in the first place!

user23: if she shows up at Imola, I’m gonna scream!

↳user24: imagining her as a wag…

↳user25: let’s be real — Logan is still the wag in that relationship 😂😂

↳user24: that’s true!

user26: oh my god I can’t wait! My family has been Williams Racing fans for years — even more fans to join the family

↳user27: oh I can’t wait for her fans to drag vowles through the mud…

↳user26: …yes that’s also a big plus. He desperately needs an attitude adjustment

Bluesky

user28: SHE JUST CHANGED RHE LURICS

↳user29: FOR REAL????

↳user28: FOR REAL!!!

user30: my stream cut!! what happened!!!!

↳user31: SHE CHANGED TBE LYRICS!!!

↳user30: what lyrics???

↳user31: Karma! “Karma is the guy on the tracks coming straight home to me”

↳user30: OH MY GOD

user19: I WAS RIGHT. I KNEW IT. ITS HAPPENING!!

↳user53: congrats baby!!

↳user32: WAIT WHAT

↳user33: BABY??? YOU GUYS ARE DATING NOW??

not_oscar: oh my god this is like throwing fire on gasoline…

↳not_y/n: oh yeah prepare yourself. I’m coming to Imola

↳not_lilyz: really??

↳not_y/n: yes! Want me to stop in England?

↳not_lilyz: please!

↳not_oscar: I’ll set a ticket aside for you lily liked by not_lily

↳not_logan: oh I can’t wait

↳not_y/n: …it’s been a long time coming?

↳not_oscar: ugh

↳not_y/n: come on it was right there!! liked by not_logan, not_lilyz

user34: omg i literally can’t wait for Imola now!!

↳user35: she’s gonna slay it!

y/n

liked by lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri, yoursister, and 19,283,913 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: I’ve loved you for 14 summers now but I want them all.

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user36: oh my god

↳user37: 14 YEARS

logansargeant: you’ll have them all

↳y/n: just like I planned

↳user38: because you’re a mastermind?

↳y/n: 😊😊

↳logansargeant: MY mastermind

↳user39: oh you guys are the type to be publicly gross aren’t you

↳oscarpiastri: yes

alex_albon: WHAT

lilymhe: Oh dear…

alexandrasaintmleux: 😳😳

iamrebeccad: Oh!

user40: ok now that this is out of the way…release the baby photos please

↳y/n: 😊😉

↳logansargeant: what??? NO

user19: hem hem??

↳user41: yes yes yes. You’re right, we’re wrong

↳user41: BUT COUPLE OF THE YEAR HERE!!

user42: never thought I’d be involved in something that broke the internet…

user43: ARE YOU GUYS MARRIED &/OR ENGAGED???

↳y/n: No we’re not

↳logansargeant: yet

↳y/n: 😳😳

Private Messages, the Grid (Unserious)

y/n

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 17,284,824 others

tagged: logansargeant, williamsracing

y/n: Imola you are so beautiful — thank you for treating my man right.

Logan, my love, congratulations on the points. It was lovely to see you chase your dream

comments have been restricted on this post

logansargeant: it was one of the best days of my life having you here. thank you for coming out in the middle of your tour

↳y/n: there is nowhere else I’d rather be than right by your side

↳y/n: no matter where that might be

oscarpiastri: it was good to see you again!

↳y/n: you as well Oscar! And congrats on the podium — it was a well deserved 2nd place

lilyzneimer: thanks for the ride! It was good to catch up with you again

↳y/n: it’s always a good day when I get to talk to you Lily!

yoursister: ummm some warning next time! That’s 2 times now — I wanna go to a race too!

↳y/n: next time for sure

↳y/n: I have breaks for Montreal or Silverstone?

↳yoursister: or both?

↳logansargeant: both please!

Private Messages, y/n

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67 @Americanvenom13 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @theendofthematerialgworl

428 notes · View notes

littlebluebird2000 · 21 days ago

Text

Twirling Hearts- part 4

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, smut, mature language, sexual harassment/assault, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime...

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy-especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High has a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates...

author's note: this chapter contains sexual content. if you are not comfortable with that, it's okay, i'll see you in the next story. the smut is contained to the very last part of this chapter, just to warn y’all.

word count: 10k+ ( i knnnoowwww)

follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on the story. for some reason, my tags aren't working :

part: 1., 2., 3., 4., 5.

Eunjang’s first morning bell echoes dully through the hallway, warning students to start heading to class.

Sieun sits at his desk, slouched but focused, one hand twirling a pen between his fingers. He looks half-asleep, but his notebook is already open, his handwriting precise. He’s not smiling, but there’s a quiet stillness to him—like something heavy inside him has finally shifted, even just a little. The classroom door bangs open.

“Morning, lover boy.” Baku announces as he walks in.

Gotak trails behind him, dragging his feet with a yawn, and Juntae walks in last, eyes scanning the room before flickering over to Sieun—then away quickly, as if pretending he didn’t look at all.

Sieun doesn’t glance up.

Baku slides into the seat beside him and leans in with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. “Slept well this weekend, huh?”

Sieun tenses. His pen stops spinning.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mutters, eyes on his notebook.

Baku whistles low, teasing. “Right, right. I must’ve imagined you not answering your phone for two whole days!”

Gotak flops into his seat. “You spent the whole weekend at her place?”

Sieun doesn’t answer right away. He can feel their eyes on him, expectant. He exhales through his nose—quiet, controlled, but clearly annoyed—then gives a small nod, just enough to make them stop asking.

Juntae shifts in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “We didn’t expect it, but… good for you. You deserve to be happy.” His voice is quieter, awkward but sincere. He offers a small smile, eyes flicking to Sieun and back to his desk like he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

Baku smacks Gotak lightly on the arm. “See? What did I say? You two are clueless.”

Gotak frowns. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“You didn’t think, period,” Baku shoots back, grinning. “I’m the only one here with a brain. I knew something was going on.”

Juntae scratches at his temple, half-smiling. “Yeah, okay. You were right.”

“You should’ve seen the way he looked at her after the recital. Man was done for.”

Sieun kept his eyes on his notebook, continuing writing. “Are you finished?”

Baku grins wider. “What? I’m just happy for you.”

Sieun exhales through his nose, leaning back in his chair. The usual apathy lingers in his expression, but something softer slips through—just for a second. He knows Baku’s an idiot…But he also knows Baku means well.

The silence barely lasts a beat before Baku leaned in, voice low but playful.

“So… what’d you two do all weekend?” he asks, grinning. “Just stayed in? Don’t tell me you didn’t even leave the apartment.”

Sieun finally looks up. His eyes meet Baku’s. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a flicker of irritation in his gaze. Not enough to bite. Just a warning.

Baku’s eyebrows lift. “Wait—seriously? You stayed in the whole time?”

Gotak turns around again, curious. “Not even to grab food or something?”

Sieun exhales through his nose. “It was raining.”

Baku leans back in his chair dramatically, hands on his mouth. “It was raining, he says! So you just stayed holed up in there, all cozy and domestic? Unbelievable.”

Juntae smiled quietly. “Kinda sounds nice, actually.”

Baku ignored him. All his attention was on Sieun. “And here I thought you’d be all stiff and awkward, sitting on the floor five feet away from her like some kind of monk.” Sieun didn’t take the bait, but his eyes narrowed just slightly.

Baku’s grin sharpens. “You weren’t, huh?”

Sieun let out a quiet breath, clearly done with the conversation. “Stop talking. You’re too loud.”

Baku snorts. “And you’re suspiciously quiet. Which tells me everything.”

Sieun says nothing, but the slight pink at the tips of his ears doesn’t go unnoticed. Before Baku can comment, Mr. Yoon steps in the classroom, dropping a stack of papers onto the front desk. “Settle down.” He says, not looking up as he adjusts his glasses. “Take out your homework. If you didn’t do it, don’t waste my time with excuses.”

Chairs scrape and groans ripple through the room. Baku took his usual place in the back of the class, just across Sieun, a smile of amusement still on his face. The classroom buzzed with faint background noise—rustling pages, low whispers, the dull scrape of a chair leg dragged half an inch too far.

The class moved around him. Gotak was stretching until his chair creaked, Baku was half-asleep with his chin in his hand and Juntae was flipping his eraser between his fingers. Sieun’s pen moved steadily across his notebook. No pause, no wasted motion. His handwriting was tidy, spaced just right. He didn’t need to think about it. Before he knew it, first period was over. The bell rang, sharp and familiar. Mr. Yoon capped his marker mid-sentence, muttered something about finishing the equation next time, and walked out to get his second cup of coffee.

Students stretched and shifted, the atmosphere loosening like a breath held too long. Notebooks shut with soft thuds. A few laughed. Someone played music too loud for three seconds before being told to turn it off.

There was a ten-minute break between classes. It was enough time to stretch, go to the bathroom, talk or sleep. You usually arrived during this break. You would always slipped in before the bell rang, quiet and breathless, but on time.

He glanced at the door out of habit. Empty. Not strange. Not yet. Five minutes passed.

Sieun opened his phone. Not to text. Just to check.

Nothing.

Around him, the room stirred lazily. Baku was talking too loudly in the corner, throwing jokes at anyone who’d listen. Gotak was chewing something crunchy, and Juntae was scrolling through his feed.

Sieun looked at the door again. Seven minutes. Still no sign of her.

He leaned back slightly in his chair. Not tense. Not relaxed. Just waiting. Maybe she was running late. Maybe she forgot something. He checked his phone again.

No messages.

His fingers hovered over the screen before he locked it again, jaw tightening for a brief moment. Nine minutes.

His gaze hadn’t left the doorway in a while now. The voices around him faded into background noise. He wasn’t listening.

Then the second bell rang.

He found himself looking at her empty seat, then his gaze flickered toward the door, just one last time. Sieun exhaled, slow and quiet, a barely perceptible shift in the tension of his posture. Something was off. She hadn’t come.

Behind him, Baku’s voice broke through the quiet murmur of the class. “Where’s Y/N?” His tone was light, but there was a hint of concern in it.

“Yeah, she’s usually here by now.” Gotak frowned. “You think she’s sick or something?”

The silence stretched out, heavy and thick. Juntae glanced at Sieun again before looking away, his voice quieter than the others, almost as if he were thinking aloud. “Maybe… maybe she’s uncomfortable showing up today? With… well, you know…Maybe it’s just a lot?” There was no accusation in his voice. Just a gentle suggestion, like he didn’t want to believe it either.

Sieun’s jaw tightened, though he didn’t show any other outward reaction. He could feel the weight of Juntae’s words, the subtle reminder of the tension between him and you after everything that had happened. Could it be that you were avoiding him? The thought slipped into his mind, unwelcome but persistent. He immediately pushed it away, not allowing himself to dwell on it.

“Don’t jump to conclusions.” Sieun muttered, his tone flat, his eyes still fixed on the door. He couldn’t let the thought linger, not now. He knew you weren’t the type to just avoid things, avoid him. If you had a problem, you’d say it—or at least show it. And this morning, you had been completely normal. You had even kissed him goodbye…

“Y/N wouldn’t just ghost.” Baku said, backing him up. “Sieun’s right. She’s a bit late for one class and we’re acting all weird? Maybe her ballet teacher held her back? They probably had to go over the recital or something…She could’ve missed the bus.”

Before anyone could respond, Mr. Yoon walk back in, five minutes late himself, a new coffee in hand . “All right, quiet down. Let’s get started with math.” He said, out of breath. The class stirred reluctantly back to life. Chairs shifted, textbooks opened, and the murmur of voices fell into silence.

Sieun moved mechanically, flipping open his notebook, but his mind wasn’t on the lesson. He stared at the margin of the page as Mr. Yoon began writing on the board.

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen.

Around him, Baku, Gotak, and Juntae exchanged glances. They didn’t say anything, but he could feel it—the tension, the worry. It pressed against him from all sides. He could hear the lesson, the scribbling of pens, the clicking of keyboards, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

No text. No message. Something was wrong.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

By lunch, the mood had shifted completely. Phones were out. Fingers scrolled. Tapped. Redialed. Again and again. Still nothing. No texts. No answers. No signs of life from you.

“She didn’t even open my messages.” Baku muttered, frowning at his screen.

Sieun sat silently at the edge of his chair, phone in hand, screen blank. He hadn’t said much, but it was clear he wasn’t just waiting anymore. He was calculating.

“She never skips school.” Juntae said softly. “She would have told one of us at least…” A long silence followed.

Then, quietly, Sieun stood. “I’m not staying here. The others looked up at him. “I’m going to her apartment.”

“I’m coming.” Baku said immediately, grabbing his bag.

“Me too.” Gotak added. Juntae stood up to follow.

The four of them walked out before the next bell, slipping through the gate like shadows. A bus ride later, they were climbing the familiar steps to your building. At the door to your unit, Baku gave a dry laugh, but it didn’t carry much humor. “Of course you have the passcode.” He said, nudging Sieun.

Sieun didn’t respond. He keyed in the numbers. The lock clicked and he opened the door. Inside, everything was still. The air felt untouched. A glass sat by the sink where you’d left it earlier. It looked exactly the same as when he’d left this morning. Sieun stepped in farther, scanning the room like something might leap out at him. His chest felt tight. “She didn’t come back to the apartment.” He said quietly. He pulled out his phone again, brows drawing close as he searched something quickly.

“Who are you calling?” Baku asked.

“The ballet academy.”

It rang twice before someone answered. A woman, polite, professional. “Hello? I’m calling to check… did Y/N attend class today?”

“Yes.” Came the reply, clear and certain. “She was here for morning practice. She left a while ago to go to school.” Sieun’s grip tightened around the phone.

“Thank you.” He said, then hung up.

He turned to the others, expression blank. They waited for an explanation. His voice colder than before. “She left ballet. She was on her way to school.” Sieun stood still, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed.

Gotak rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe… maybe she stopped somewhere? Like a café? Or her phone died—”

“Then she’d be here by now.” Sieun cut in, his voice flat. “She’s not just late. She never made it.”

Juntae hovered near the doorway, his face pale. “Do you think something happened… on the way to school?”

“She wouldn’t just wander off.” Baku added. “Not without texting someone. Not after this weekend.”Everyone looked at Sieun. His hands had curled into fists at his sides.

“She was fine this morning,” He finally said to reassured their suspicion. “She kissed me goodbye. She was happy.” The room went quiet again.

Baku’s voice dropped. “So something must of happened…” Then—Baku’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A sharp, sudden vibration that broke the stillness. Everyone froze.

“Y/N?” Juntae asked quickly, almost too fast.

Baku stared down at his screen, heart stammering in his chest, but his expression dropped. “It’s… not her.” He said quietly. Sieun was already at his side. Two messages. From an unknown number.

[Unknown Number]: She’s with us. Don’t do anything stupid.

[Unknown Number]: If you come talk with us, we can make some arrangements.

Sieun was dead silent, his face unreadable. The rest of the boys stood frozen, waiting for someone to speak.

Then Baku exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “…Shit. It’s the Union.”

Gotak looked stress. “The Union? I thought it might’ve been Hyoman or one of his guys.”

Baku shook his head. “Hyoman was in class all day. This is bigger. Way bigger.”

Sieun’s gaze sharpened. “What’s the Union and why would they want Y/N?”

“They don’t.” Baku said. “They want us. Eunjang.” He continued. “The Union is a network. It’s an organization made from three high schools around here: Yeoil, Hwayang, and Dalseong. Each school has its own leader, but the real boss is Na Baek-jin. He runs the whole thing.”

Sieun listened without interrupting. Not a single change in his face.

Baku stepped back, pacing once across the small living room, voice tight. “The Union’s been trying to pull us in for months—stealing from our guys, cornering us after school, starting fights.“

“They tried jumping Junseok last week.” Juntae muttered. “Took his phone and wallet.”

Baku nodded. “They’re organized. Real business-like. They do cons, sell stolen bikes, flip phones—whatever keeps the cash coming in. Baek-jin runs it like a company.”

Baku’s voice dropped, bitter now. “They tried to pull Eunjang in too. Again and again. But I said no. Every time. I’ve been the one keeping them out of our school.” He paused, his eyes darkening with guilt. “And that’s why they took Y/N.”

Sieun stiffened.

“She’s close to me. Friends with me. That makes her a target. They’re sending a message.”

Sieun’s gaze dropped to the phone again.

“Do you know where they’re holding her?”

“No,” Baku said. “They’ve got a few spots they use—abandoned buildings, storage places—but the headquarters? No one outside the Union knows.”

Sieun stood perfectly still. “Then, ask.”

Baku nodded, fingers flying over the screen. One short message:

[12:23]: Where?

Three seconds passed. Then four. The typing bubble appeared.

Sieun didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

[Unknown Number] : Bowling alley. Back entrance. 5pm. Come alone.”

Baku read it out loud, his voice heavy with frustration. “They’re at the bowling alley. They must be using it as a front to go under the radar. That’s probably where they saw us two weeks ago… We were in their territory without knowing…”

Sieun’s gaze remained cold, sharp. His mind was already moving, calculating the angles, thinking through every possibility. It was a public place. A cover for the Union’s operations. Risky, but smart. There’d be layers—lookouts, runners, maybe even fake employees. He wasn’t the best fighter—not by a long shot—but he was good at understanding people. Their weaknesses. Their routines. The patterns.

“They want me to go alone,” Baku muttered, jaw tight. “It’s obviously a setup.”

Sieun finally spoke, voice calm and steady. “Then don’t go alone.”

“They’ll be watching,” Baku said. “They’ll know.”

“They won’t know” Sieun replied simply.There was something unsettling about the way he said it. No fear. No hesitation. Just quiet conviction.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The room was small, suffocating. Dimly lit by the flickering overhead light and the pale glow from the desk lamp, it looked more like a converted storage closet than an actual office. The air tasted like smoke and dust. A stained couch sagged against the wall, further there was a scratched-up metal desk.

You sat on the floor, tucked into the corner. Your knees were drawn to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them. Your weren’t tied up—but the presence in the room made it clear that running wasn’t an option.

The man in the orange jacket sat sprawled on the couch, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. Smoke curled through the air, mixing with the stale scent of old furniture and engine oil. He glanced at you from time to time, amusement flickering in his eyes like he thought this was funny. You had come to know that his name was Seongje. He was one of the guys that brought you here. He had the dragged you with that fake, mocking kindness.

At the desk sat another man. This one looked cleaner. His black hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place. He hadn’t said a word to you since they brought you in.

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?” The man on the sofa said, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “I figured ballerinas were supposed to be shy, but this is something else.”

You stare at the floor. You want to speak, maybe even scream, but your throat feels tight, like something’s wrapped around it.

“Aww,” Seongje smiled, leaning forward, flicking ash to the floor. “You’re cute.”

You flinched and you hated yourself for it.

His eyes return to you, and they’re darker now. “You know, it’s kind of sweet. The way you’re sitting there, quiet and shaking. Makes you look even smaller. Makes me want to see just how much noise you can make.”

“Enough.” Said the man behind the desk. His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the room like a knife. He’s colder than the others. More dangerous in a way you couldn’t explain. “She’s not here for your amusement. She’s here to make sure Baku listens.”

Seongje laughed, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Come on, Baekjin. I’m just trying to make her feel welcome.” He relaxed completely against the couch, leaning back with his held tilted back. His next words were low, as if he was speaking to himself: “I’ve always liked fragile girls. They break the prettiest.”

Baekjin finally moved. He opened a drawer, took something out—a phone—and placed it on the desk in front of him. “Five o’clock.” He says. “Let’s see what Baku decides.”

You press your forehead against your knees, trying to steady your breath. If he comes in without thinking…

Seongje’s voice slices through the air again, taunting. “Hope he hurries.” He said. “Wouldn’t want us getting bored while we wait.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. You’re scared—terrified—but you won’t let them see you break. Not yet.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The neon sign flickers overhead, casting the entrance in a sickly red glow. Laughter echoes from inside, hollow and distant. A few teens loiter near the front doors, tossing glances at Baku like they recognize him—and know better than to say anything.

Behind him, Sieun is quiet. Still. But there’s something brewing under the surface. He’s been like this since they got the text. No questions, no hesitation. Just that calm, unreadable expression. The kind of calm that warns of a storm behind the eyes.

“There’s a side entrance. Loading zone. I saw it last time we were here.” He started, voice calm. “I’ll wait for you to get inside first. I’ll sneak in through that door after.”

Baku looks at Sieun now, more serious than he’s ever been. “You don’t have to do this, Sieun.”

Sieun keep his gaze forward. “I’m not walking away.” He adjusted his black cap.“You keep them looking at you. I’ll find her.”

“And if you can’t get her out?” Baku asked.

Sieun looked at him. His voice was quiet, steady. “I will.”

A few seconds passed in heavy silence before Baku spoke, his voice edged with bitterness.

“Baekjin and I used to be friends. Before he joined the Union. Before he started playing mob boss with high school kids.” He let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll try to talk to him first—see if there’s anything left of the guy I used to know. But if that doesn’t work…” His gaze hardened. “We fight.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The music swells as Baku pushes through the doors. A few heads turn his way. Recognition flickers across the faces of nearby Union kids—some he remembers from past fights. Their eyes lock, but he doesn’t look away. He stands firm, unfazed. He heads straight for the hallway that leads to the back office, just like Sieun had described, over and over again during the past hour. He walk towards the door and turned the knob slowly and slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind him—and then, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Well, look who finally showed his face.” Seongje was slouched against the wall, spinning a butterfly knife between his fingers, the blade flashing in the dim light. Baku looked at him for a second, then his gaze went to the man who once was his best friend.

Baekjin sat behind a desk, legs crossed and sleeves rolled. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t smile. His gaze met Baku’s like they’d spoken yesterday.

“Didn’t expect you to come alone.” Baekjin says.

“You told me to.” Baku replies flatly. “Figured we could talk.”

Baekjin gives him a thin smile. “We always could.”

Baku scanned the office, his chest tightening with unease. “Where is she?” he demanded, voice low but urgent.

Seongje clicked the knife shut and shoved off the wall, walking a slow circle toward Baku. “Moved her somewhere else. She’s sweet, that girl.” He said with a smirk. “Bit too quiet, though.”

“She’s not part of this.” Baku said, jaw tightening. Gaze hard on Baekjin.

“She is now,” Baekjin said, settling back in his chair. “Because you made her part of it. You let her get close. That’s on you.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

Sieun moved through the dim corridor like a shadow, his steps light, his breath tight in his chest. The deeper he went, the more the sound of bowling pins and cheap arcade machines faded behind thick walls. Over the last two hours, he’d searched every public record he could find. Construction permits, outdated blueprints, utility schematics—until he found the layout of the bowling alley tucked away in the files of the old company that had built it over a decade ago. It showed everything.

The public lanes. The hidden stairwell near the loading dock. The walled-off section in the back that didn’t show up on Google Maps. Perfect for a gang like the Union to operate from. He passed a locked supply room. Then another door slightly ajar.

And that’s when he heard it.

A voice, cocky and cruel, echoing from around the corner. “ ‘Don’t touch me.’ ” A boy mocked in a falsetto, laughter following behind him. “She looked like she was gonna cry. Soft little girl.”

Sieun stopped dead in his tracks.

The Union kid—maybe sixteen, seventeen—walked past the hallway Sieun was hidden in, still laughing with his friend. “Boss said not to mess with her, but damn, the attitude on that girl…” Their footsteps faded.

He didn’t twitch. Didn’t breathe loud. But behind his cold, blank stare, his mind was racing fast and sharp. He continued on foward, slipping past a broken bench, down a hallway with metal doors…Until there was a noise.

He froze. It was faint. Fragile. A sound that didn’t belong here. A breath catching. A choked sob. The kind someone tries to swallow down before it escapes. It came from the third door on the right. Sieun stared at it, unmoving. That was you, and you were crying.

He knelt down and pulled the multitool from his pocket, breath shallow, hands steady. The lock was rusted—old, but stiff. It took longer than he liked.

Click.

He slipped inside, closing the door behind him. The light inside flickered, casting long shadows across the stained floor. You sat in the corner, knees to your chest, fingers gripping your sleeves, eyes squeezed shut as if you were trying to disappear.

“Y/N.” He said quietly.

Your head snapped up. “…Sieun?”

He nodded once, stepping toward you. For a second, you didn’t move. Then your body sagged just slightly with relief. He crouched in front of you, gaze intense. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I don’t think so.” You trembled.

He nodded in relief. He offered a hand, and you took it. “We have to move. Now.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The air in the office was thick with tension. Baekjin lounged behind his desk, calm as ever, like he was hosting an old friend for drinks, not a confrontation over a kidnapped girl.

Baku stood across from him, unblinking. “I’m not doing anything until I see proof she’s safe.” Baku said flatly.

Baekjin gave a slow, practiced nod. “Fair. We’re civilized, after all.” He glanced to his right. “Seongje. Escort him,” Baekjin said smoothly. “Show him she’s unharmed.”

Seongje flicked his cigarette to the floor and crushed it beneath his boot. “With pleasure.”

The halls they walked through were dim, narrow. Seongje kept his hands in his pockets, sauntering ahead like he was guiding a tour. “So tense.” He drawled. “Still trying to play hero, huh?”

Baku didn’t answer.

Seongje chuckled. “You should’ve joined when Baekjin offered. You’d have a throne by now instead of babysitting punks at Eunjang.”

As they rounded a corner, a couple of Union members spotted them—then immediately veered away, pretending to be busy. Baku noticed. So did Seongje. The fear wasn’t just from Baku’s presence. It was him, too. Even the Union kept their distance from Seongje. The man was unhinged.

They reached a hallway lined with unmarked doors. Seongje pulled out a keyring, whistling under his breath as he stopped at one near the end.

“She’s in here.” He said lazily, unlocking it. The second he swung the door open, the grin vanished from his face.

The room was empty.

No sign of Y/N.

“What the—”

Seongje took one step into the room—and that’s when Baku struck. A clean elbow to the jaw. Seongje stumbled, stunned. Before he could react, Baku slammed the door shut and snatched the key from the lock, twisting it hard and locking Seongje inside.

“BAKU!”

The door shook as Seongje threw his full weight against it, but it held—at least for now.

Baku turned. Three Union members were rushing down the hall. They paused when they saw who it was. He didn’t hesitate. The first went down with a solid punch to the gut. The second tried to grab him from behind—he flipped him over his shoulder and slammed him into the wall. The third backed up, reconsidering his life choices. Baku didn’t stop. He stormed down the hall, fists ready, eyes sharp, pushing toward the exit before the entire Union realized what had happened.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You followed close behind Sieun, your heart hammering in your chest. The hallway was dim, stretching endlessly in both directions. You’d barely said a word since he found you. There hadn’t been time.

Sieun moved with surprising precision—checking corners, listening for footsteps. His hand hovered near his pocket, gripping the multitool like a blade.

You watched him from behind. He looked calm. But that calm was the scariest thing you’d ever seen. Like something inside him had clicked into place.

“Did you come with Baku?” You whispered after what felt like an eternity.

“Yes.” Sieun replied without turning. “He’s distracting them. He’ll be okay.”

You two reached a junction where two hallways split. He paused and checked the wall. There was faded arrows scratched into metal:

MAIN FLOOR →

LOADING DOCK ←

Sieun pointed left. “That way. It’s a service exit. Less cameras.” You nodded and kept close, moving quickly, silently.

The hallway curved again, and finally—at the far end—they saw it. An old steel door, dented and rusted. A red EXIT sign buzzed faintly above it. Your knees nearly buckled with relief.

You picked up speed.

Then—

A voice behind you.

“HEY! STOP!”

Sieun didn’t turn around. He shoved the door open and yanking you out with him before slamming it shut. You were outside, but it wasn’t over. Not yet. The lot behind the alley lay empty. Sieun’s eyes darted left. “There. The fence.”

You both took off, feet pounding against the pavement. Sieun reached it first, hoisting himself up and over in one swift motion. He turned, arm outstretched. “Come on!” You grabbed his hand just as the heavy door behind you screeched open. Multiple voices shouted from the alley, but you were already over, landing hard on the other side.

Sieun didn’t let go of your hand as you both disappeared into the night.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The cold air bit at your cheeks, but you didn’t feel it—not over the throb of your heart or the rush of blood in your ears. Your hand were still wrapped in Sieun’s, your legs still shaking from the sprint. Your breath came in short, panicked gasps.

Then— A low whistle.

Sieun froze. He shifted in front of you instinctively, his hand tightening around the multi-tool in his pocket.

“Over here.” Baku stood at the mouth of a narrow alley, chest rising hard with every breath, blood on his shirt, a dark bruise spreading along his jaw. He looked like he’d gone through hell. When his eyes landed on you, something in his face cracked open.

“Y/N.”

You rushed to him. He caught you without a word, arms closing around you in a tight, grounding hug. You just clung to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

You nod, even though you’re not sure. Your voice comes out hoarse. “I’m okay now.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“I’m so sorry.” Baku whispered. His voice cracked. “This is my fault. You got dragged into this because of me.”

You shake your head. “No. Don’t do that.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s not your fault,” You said. “It’s not your responsibility how other people act.”

He looks at you for a long moment. Then he pulls you into another quick hug. “I’m just glad everyone’s okay.” You whispered firmly. When you step away, you return to Sieun’s side. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence steadies you. Just standing beside him makes it easier to breathe.

“We have to go.” Baku said already checking the corners. “Juntae and Gotak are waiting by the corner store. That’s our meetup point.”

“Gotak’s only calling the cops if we don’t show by the forty-five-minute mark.” He said. “It’s already been half an hour.” All three of you started jogging towards your usual meet up spot. Your lungs were on fire, but your mind wouldn’t stop spinning. The adrenaline’s thinning, leaving behind too many questions.

You glance at Baku as you slow just slightly beside him. “Why didn’t you guys call the cops from the beginning?” Baku doesn’t answer right away. He looks ahead, jaw tight, eyes tracking every shadow.

“What they did was illegal.” You said, your voice more brittle than you intended. “They kidnapped me.”

He exhales through his nose, sharp and bitter. “There’s someone over Baekjin.” He mutters, not looking at you. “Someone powerful. With money. Influence. The Union’s not just a gang—it’s a business. And the guy backing Baekjin knows how to keep it protected.”

The pieces click together slowly in your head. “So… even if you called…”

“There’s no guarantee the cops would’ve even shown up,” He says. “Not for us. Not for this.”

You don’t want to believe that. But the way he says it—it’s not anger. It’s experience.

“That’s why Gotak’s call was going to be about something else. Not the Union. A fake story. Something loud enough to get a patrol out without raising red flags.”

“But you didn’t know if it would work,” You whisper.

“No,” He says. “It might’ve backfired. They could’ve shown up late. Or worse—tipped someone off.”

You shiver. Not from the cold. Sieun glances back at you, just briefly.

Baku’s voice lowers again. “We couldn’t risk it. Not with you in there.” You nod, not because it makes you feel better—but because you understand now. This whole thing runs deeper than you thought.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The small corner store glows under a flickering streetlight, its windows dark, shutters pulled halfway down. You spot them before they see you—two figures huddled near the alley wall behind it. Juntae is pacing. Gotak leans against the bricks, checking his phone.

Your group’s footsteps hit the alley gravel, soft at first, then louder as you draw closer. Gotak straightens immediately, snapping his head toward the sound. Juntae freezes mid-step. You see their shoulders tense, eyes wide. Then they see you. For a moment, there’s nothing. Just stunned silence.

“Oh my God,” Gotak mutters, stumbling forward with wide eyes. “You’re—holy shit, you’re here.”He runs both hands over his face and starts pacing again, this time out of pure adrenaline. “I thought you were dead. I thought—” He laughed breathlessly through the panic that hasn’t fully left his system. “I was this close to calling. This close.”

Juntae walks toward you slowly, almost cautiously. His eyes shimmer in the dim light, mouth opening like he wants to say something, but no words come out. Then he breaks. His shoulders shake, tears sliding down his cheeks before he can even pretend to stop them. “I thought we were too late.” He says, voice barely more than a whisper. “I thought they hurt you.”

Your chest twists. You step into his arms, pulling him close. “I’m okay.” You murmur. “We made it.”

Behind you, Sieun stands still—quiet and unreadable. His gaze is sharp, watching the ends of the alley like he’s expecting something to crawl out of the dark. He hasn’t relaxed, not even now.

“Ok. Let’s go.” Said Baku, glancing around as well. Your footsteps echoed softly, crunching over scattered gravel as the five of you moved in a tight formation—tense, alert, every shadow a possible threat. Gotak glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, nerves on edge. Juntae kept his gaze on you, as if afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

The bus stop is up ahead, dimly lit, empty. When the bus finally arrives, it hisses to a stop, the lights buzzing too bright against your tired eyes. You climb on in silence. There’s a long bench seat running across the rear, and without even needing to speak, you all settle there together, shoulder to shoulder. Baku squeezes in next to you, still quietly shaken. Gotak slumps on the other side of him, head tipped back against the window like it’s the only thing holding him up. Sieun takes the seat next to you while Juntae slides next him.

As the bus rolls deeper into the city, Baku finally breaks the silence. “We’re not splitting up tonight.”Everyone looks up. He turns slightly in his seat to face you. “You okay if we crash at your place?”

You nod before you’ve even fully thought about it. “Yeah. Please.” It’s not just about safety. You don’t want to be alone either. You glance at Sieun. His jaw is clenched, eyes fixed straight ahead, but there’s a distant look in them, like he’s not fully present. His posture is rigid, every muscle wound tight, yet his hand rests loosely on his thigh.

You slip your hand into his and slowly rest your head on his shoulder. Even if his body stays stiff, there’s something in the way he leans just slightly toward you that makes your chest ache. A long minute passes like that—maybe two.

Then, from the far end of the bench, you hear a whisper:

“…Is it bad timing if I point out—once again—that I totally knew they had a thing?”

All you managed was a slow blink, thrown slightly off guard.

Baku’s eyebrow were raised, eyes fixed forward with faux innocence, but there’s a smug smirk tugging at his mouth. Gotak snorts beside him, and even Juntae manages a tired laugh.

The tension cracks, just slightly.

Sieun doesn’t say a word—but you catch the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Seriously?” You mutter, not even lifting your head. “You’re the worst.”

“I told you it was obvious,” Baku says, nudging Gotak with his knee. “You owe me fried chicken. For real this time.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

By the time everyone made it back to your apartment, it was nearly 7:30 p.m. The sky outside had dimmed to a soft blue-gray, streetlights flickering on one by one. The boys had rushed home to grab a few essentials—chargers, a change of clothes, something to sleep in. You were surprised how quickly they came back.

Now, the smell of instant ramen fills the small living room, and the low murmur of conversation hums like background music. You’re all gathered on the floor around your tiny table—cross-legged, tired, but finally breathing a little easier.

Gotak is halfway through his second cup of noodles. Baku is lying flat on his back, slurping dramatically while Juntae pretends not to be grossed out. Sieun sits beside you, chopsticks in hand, though he hasn’t eaten much. He hasn’t spoken in a while. Not even to you. Still, when you reach for his hand, he lets you take it. He doesn’t squeeze back, but he holds on.

You pulled out blankets and pillows for the boys, grateful your couch unfolded into a bed. You laid the futon mattress beside it, making quick work of the setup. Baku and Gotak flopped onto the couch bed with exaggerated groans. Juntae immediately claimed the futon for himself.

You sit back beside Sieun, your shoulder brushing his. His face is still unreadable. Not cold just… somewhere else. His hair still messy, his clothes still the same ones from earlier, his eyes dull around the edges.

“Hey.” You gave his arm a light nudge. “Go wash up first. You’ll feel better.” You told him gently.

He blinked slowly, then gave you a slight nod and pushed himself up. His movements were heavy, like it took effort just to make his limbs work. You watched as he shuffled toward the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

While he was gone, the boys stayed sprawled across the living room. The television played quietly in the background as they talked among themselves—about what had happened earlier, about Seongje and Beakjin, about what they could’ve done differently. Their voices were low, occasionally interrupted by tired laughter or quiet sighs. Relief was in every breath, even in their exhaustion.

Ten minutes later, Sieun emerged again, steam following him into the hallway. His hair was damp and clinging to his skin, his eyes heavy with something you couldn’t name. He didn’t say anything—just sat back down, cleaner but still quiet.

You grabbed your clothes and headed into the bathroom. In the bathroom, under the warm stream of water, the adrenaline finally began to fade. Your hands trembled slightly as you washed. Everything that had happened replayed in flickers—the cornering at the studio, the locked room, Seongje’s eyes, Beakjin’s quiet threat. You let the fear run its course.

You stepped out of the shower, dried off, changed into your pyjamas, and returned to the living room. They were all wrapped up in blankets now, only half-awake—except for Juntae, who was already fast asleep. The TV was still playing.

“Finally.” Baku muttered from his spot near the edge of the couch bed. “We were about to send a search party.”

“Shut up.” You shook your damp hair at him. Baku and Gotak grinned, tossing you a pillow.

“Goodnight guys.” You said, smiling at them all—until you reached for Sieun’s hand.

“Come on.” You whispered.

He followed when you tugged softly, his body slow to respond, but his feet moved.

Immediately, Baku perked up. “Whoa, whoa. Look who gets special treatment?”

Gotak snorted. “They’re officially disgusting.” You only rolled your eyes at him as you walked away.

You just glanced back at Sieun. He was still quiet. Still somewhere far away. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as you led him down the hall toward your room. He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t let go. The door closed behind you with a soft click, muffling the sounds from the living room. The quiet in your room was deeper—denser somehow.

You stepped out of your slippers and climbed into bed, the sheets cool against your skin. You didn’t try to fill the silence. You simply waited, understanding that Sieun would speak when he was ready. Instead, you looked at him, meeting his distant eyes as he stood there unmoving. “Come here.” You said softly, barely above a whisper.

Eventually, he moved. His steps were slow and mechanical, like his body was running on leftover instinct rather than intention. He climbed into bed beside you without protest, his limbs stiff, breath shallow. When you gently pulled him closer, guiding him to lie across your chest, you felt him tense. His entire body locked up, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. He stayed like that for a moment…

Then, his breath shuddered. Just once.

His shoulders started to tremble.

The first sob was silent, but you felt it—deep and ragged, pulling through him like a wave. His fingers clutched the fabric of your shirt, and he buried his face against your chest as the shaking took over. His breathing grew uneven, shattered, tears soaking slowly through the cotton between you.

You held him without speaking, one hand moving slowly through his hair, the other resting on his back. You didn’t try to stop him. You just held on, steady and quiet, as he cried.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You didn’t know how long the crying lasted. His body trembled with every breath, and you held him through it all. Quiet, steady, grounding. At last, the shaking began to slow. His breathing grew quieter, broken now and then by uneven exhales. He stayed pressed against you, his cheek against your chest, his fingers tangled in your shirt like he was still afraid to let go.

Then, in a voice so raw it barely sounded like him, he murmured: “It should be me comforting you.” You felt his shame in the way he tensed again, in how he couldn’t quite lift his head. “Not the other way around…”

You pressed your hand lightly to the back of his head, threading your fingers deeper into his hair and hushed him softly. “Don’t say that.” You spoke softly, but firmly. “I feel blessed that you trust me enough to give yourself to me like that.” You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You’re always holding yourself together for everyone else… I like that I get to be here for you.”

He went still in your arms, like those words struck something deep.

“I like comforting you.” You added affectionately.

Sieun didn’t respond right away. But the guilt in his silence slowly gave way to something softer as you continued to hold him. He finally exhaled, all the air he’d been holding in slipping out of his chest.

“I thought I was going to lose you too…” He whispered, voice small and broken. Tears were still slowly falling down his eyes.

And you understood.

His best friend was still in a coma, and that wound hadn’t healed. It would never heal. Watching you get pulled into danger today, hearing you cry through the walls, thinking for even one second that something could happen to you too—it broke something in him.

You pulled him closer, if that was even possible. “I’m here.” You whispered. “I’m safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed like that for a while, one hand gently tracing circles along his back. Even now, red-rimmed and glassy, his eyes were achingly beautiful. They always had been. There was something haunted about them, a kind of sadness that ran deep, but they held the truth too. Depth. Silence. Fire. You loved how expressive they were, even when he said nothing. And now, staring into them in the dark, you saw something fragile and raw staring back.

“I was scared earlier.” You whispered softly.

He didn’t move, but you felt the faint shift of his attention.

You took a slow breath, fingers trailing gently over his back again. “I knew you’d come for me. With Baku. I never doubted that. And that was the only thing keeping me from completely breaking down. But even while I waited… I wasn’t just afraid for myself. I was afraid for you.” Sieun stirred at that, his hand twitching slightly where it gripped you.

“I was so scared they’d hurt you. Baku as well, but if something would happen to you because of me. And…” You hesitated. “I felt awful too.”

Now he shifted, just enough to lift his head and look at you—eyes still red-rimmed and tired, but focused.

“I didn’t go to school this morning,” Your voice barely above a whisper. “I know it wasn’t my doing, but I know what that might’ve looked like to you. I know you overthink. I know how hard it is for you to trust that people won’t disappear. I kept thinking about how you might of felt in that moment….”

Sieun’s jaw tensed, and he dropped his gaze for a second.

“The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.” You said. “Not after everything. You matter to me. A lot.”

Sieun looked up at you. His eyes were glassy again, but not from pain. Something softer, deeper, rested there now. “You matter to me too.”

A small beat passed. You felt your heart stammer in your chest, but this time, not from fear.

You reached up, your hand resting gently against his cheek, brushing the damp skin beneath his eyes with your thumb. “I love you, Sieun. And I don’t say that because I think tonight was terrifying… I say it because I mean it. I’ve meant it for a while.”

You gave a small, shaky smile. “I know you’re going through a lot. And you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

He flinched, so subtly it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else. But you saw it. Felt it. And then something in his expression cracked. For a split second, you saw it…Something younger in his face. The echo of a little boy who had gone too long without hearing those words. A boy who learned to survive on silence. A boy who was never held gently, never reassured enough that he was worthy of being loved.

And then, just like that, he started crying again.

Not like before. These weren’t sharp or panicked sobs—this time it came like a release. Quiet. Slow. A grief melting into something softer. His chest hitched against yours, the sound of his breath shaky as tears spilled freely down his face again. You stayed like that in the dark, his breath uneven against your skin, his tears still falling, slow and silent.

But little by little, his body began to settle.

The shaking stopped. His breathing, though still heavy, found a rhythm. His grip on your shirt loosened, though he didn’t let go completely. You ran your fingers gently through his hair, slow and soothing. You kissed his forehead gently. Not because it would fix everything. But because it told him: I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

Eventually, you felt the weight of him begin to shift slightly. The way his breath deepened, the way his body melted a little more into yours.

He had fallen asleep on your chest.

You watched the shadows shift in the room. Listened to the soft hum of the television through the wall. Your hand moved slowly through his hair one last time before resting gently at his nape. You exhaled, eyes fluttering closed, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you. And before long, you followed him into sleep.

Held together by the quiet, and everything that hadn’t needed words.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You woke to the feeling of warmth. Sieun’s weight was still against you. His head was tucked beneath your chin, one arm slung loosely around your waist, fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid it might disappear in his sleep. His breathing was slow and soft.

You didn’t move right away. You didn’t want to wake him. His face looked younger in the morning light. No more tear stains. Just peace. You brushed your fingers lightly through his hair, breathing in quietly, trying not to disturb the calm.

From the muffled rustling outside the door, you could tell the others were already awake. There was the soft clang of dishes, the groan of someone stretching, and a quiet whisper that sounded like Gotak grumbling about the cold floor.

You stayed where you were a little longer, letting yourself have this—this stillness. This comfort. This proof that you’d made it through the night.

When you stirred a little bit, Sieun blinked slowly awake, his brows twitching like he was still unsure of where he was. His gaze met yours, sleepy and confused. Then he blinked slowly as if memories from last night came back to him.

“Morning.” You whispered.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” He murmured, voice hoarse with sleep and something deeper.

“I’m glad you did.” You replied. “You needed it.”

He closed his eyes again for a moment, breathing you in like he still wasn’t convinced any of this was real.

“I’m staying here today. I’m gonna call the ballet academy and the school. Let them know I won’t be coming.”

Sieun lifted his head slightly. “You are?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I need the break. I’m ahead in most of my classes anyway. Math is the only one giving me a headache.”

Sieun was quiet for a second, then murmured, “I’ll stay too.”

You blinked.

“I can help with math… if anything.” He added sleepily, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That pulled a soft laugh from your throat. You tightened your arms around him a little. “Of course you would.”

His lips barely curved, but it was there—a small, real smile.

You gave his forehead a kiss and suffled to get out of bed. “I’ll be back” You said gently.

You slipped out of the room and walked to the living room. You found the others slowly getting ready—pulling on jackets, slinging bags over shoulders.

“I’m not coming in today,” You said slowly, voice rough with sleep. “I’m gonna rest. Yesterday…” You trailed off, rubbing your arm. “Fear drains you like nothing else.”

Gotak gave a slow nod. “Of course.” His lips pressed together in understanding. Juntae’s expression softened, and Baku smiled as he adjusted the strap on his bag.

They lingered in the doorway.

You turned back to them, frowning faintly. “What are you guys waiting for?”

Juntae adjusted his glasses. “We’re waiting for Sieun.”

You hesitated, then answered, a little awkwardly, “Oh. He’s not coming either. He’s staying with me. He’s… exhausted too. From the stress.”

There was a beat of silence.

Baku opened his mouth—already leaning into one of his usual teasing remarks—but Gotak smacked the back of his head lightly. “Don’t.” He muttered.

Baku groaned, rubbing the spot. “I wasn’t gonna say anything bad.”

You rolled your eyes, lips tugging into a faint smile despite everything.

“Be careful.” Juntae said softly as they stepped out. “Text us later, okay?”

“I will.” You promised, and closed the door behind them, the apartment quiet once more.

You quickly made your calls and padded softly back to your room, the apartment now hushed and still.

Sieun was lying exactly where you’d left him, eyes fixed on the ceiling, blinking slowly. The blankets were pulled halfway up his chest, one arm bent behind his head, the other still resting where your body had been.

You crossed the room and crawled back onto the bed. He turned his head to look at you, eyes heavy but clear now.

You slid under the covers beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “They left.” You murmured. “I told them we’re staying home.”

He nodded faintly. “Good.”

You laced your fingers through his under the covers, your bodies still facing one another, only inches apart. The morning light filtered faintly through the curtains, soft and pale, wrapping the room in stillness.

“Do you wanna sleep a little more?” You whispered, your voice quiet, hesitant. “We don’t have to do anything yet.”

Sieun blinked slowly, his gaze resting on yours. His eyes were still shadowed from everything, but there was something gentler now.

He gave a small nod. “Yeah… if you stay here, then yeah.”

He inched closer until your foreheads nearly touched and your legs brushed beneath the blanket. His breath mingled with yours, warm and steady, grounding. With your fingers still laced in his, you closed your eyes and let sleep take you, quiet and undisturbed.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You woke to the softness of morning light spilling faintly through the curtains, warm sheets tangled between you and Sieun. He was facing you, still close, his breathing slow and even. For a moment, you just watched him. His face was softer than you’d seen it in weeks, the shadows under his eyes were lighter, his jaw no longer tight with tension.

He looked… rested. Like sleep had actually touched something deep in him.

You leaned in just a little and brushed your nose gently against his. His eyes blinked open slowly, hazy with sleep at first. His gaze locked on you, and something in it melted. You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek with gentle fingers. His skin was warm, familiar. Comforting. A sight left him.

He mirrored the motion, his own hand rising to touch your cheek, his thumb grazing softly along the edge of your jaw. His eyes were still on you, and this time, they sparkled with something bright and warm. Like he was looking at you and seeing something precious.

A lazy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You know…” He started, voice low and rough. “I’ve never said this to anyone before.”

You waited, your heart beating a little faster.

He didn’t rush. He never did. But the silence between you was alive with something unspoken.

“I thought I knew how to live with being alone. I got used to it.” He said quietly. “Used to not being wanted… not being seen. Even before everything with my friend, I was already disappearing.”

His eyes flicked down for a second, then found yours again. “I didn’t think someone like you could care about someone like me.” He said, a small, breathless laugh escaping him, almost in disbelief. “But I kept falling. Every time you talked to me, every time you looked at me like I was worth something… I kept falling.”

His voice broke just slightly—just enough.

“I’m in love with you too” he whispered. “I didn’t say anything last night. But I wanted to. I just… didn’t know how.”

Your eyes stung suddenly, but all you could do was smile—because Sieun was looking at you with eyes that always carried a storm, and now, somehow, there was sunlight in them too.

His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you gently closer, his forehead resting against yours.

The kiss was soft—barely there at first, a brushing of warmth, then firmer as Sieun leaned in with more certainty. He kissed you like something fragile and precious. His hand stayed at the nape of your neck, anchoring him to you.

There was a small smile on your lips, the kind that came from somewhere deep, somewhere safe.

“So…” You whispered, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Am I officially your girlfriend now?”

Sieun blinked, and then a slow, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.” He said softly. “You are.”

He looked a little surprised at himself for saying it out loud, but he didn’t take it back. If anything, he looked proud—like the words tasted good.

You smiled wider, your chest feeling light for the first time in days. “Good.” You said, quietly teasing. “Because I was starting to wonder how long I had to wait.”

Sieun let out a soft laugh under his breath, then leaned in and kissed you again—still slow, still tender. As you pulled back just slightly to look at him, your heart fluttered at the sight. His eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed. He looked so soft in that moment.

You leaned in again. This time, you let your lips move with more intention. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss just enough to draw a small breath from him. His mouth opened under yours, responding now, but letting you lead. His breath was warm, his body pliant, and you felt him tremble slightly

“Can I… try something?” You whispered, barely above a breath.

He didn’t answer at first. He just blinked at you. For a second, you saw the shyness flicker through him, like he was still learning how to accept being wanted this way.

But then, slowly, he nodded.

“I’ve honestly lost count of how many times you’ve saved me.” You said, your voice quiet, a teasing lilt curling at the edges. “I really have to find a way to repay you… for being such a gentleman.”

Sieun’s ears flushed instantly, a deep red crawling up to his cheeks. But he didn’t look away. His eyes stayed on yours, soft and full of wonder, and something else—something that made your chest warm. He blinked slowly, clearly overwhelmed, but his voice came out, low and sincere: “You don’t owe me anything…”

You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering just long enough to feel him sigh into it.

“I know.” You whispered. “But I want to.”

His eyes widened just slightly—his whole body still, waiting—but behind the shyness, there was trust. And maybe, even anticipation.

You smirked, just a little. “Turn over. On your back.”

Sieun blinked, slightly breathless. He nodded, quiet and obedient, and shifted slowly onto his back, the blankets rustling softly around him. You sat up beside him, brushing some hair from your face as you looked down at him.

“Just relax.” You said gently, your voice light but with a teasing edge. “Let me take care of you.”

He swallowed hard, but didn’t resist—just watched you, his fingers twitching slightly on the comforter.

You leaned over him, letting your fingertips trace softly along the line of his jaw. “If anything feels uncomfortable… tell me. Okay?” Your voice was sincere, grounding. “I mean it. We stop the second you want to.”

Sieun nodded immediately, almost too fast. “I know.” He murmured. “I trust you.”

That look in his eyes made your breath catch. You leaned down, brushing a slow kiss over his cheek, then his jaw. His breath caught as your hand flattened over his chest, feeling the fast rhythm of his heart.

You pressed your lips to the side of his neck now. The skin there was soft, warm, and you couldn’t help but linger, letting your kiss trail along the curve of his neck. He shuddered slightly at the sensation, his body stiffening for just a moment before he relaxed again under your touch. His hand found its way to your back, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling faster.

Sieun’s eyes fluttered shut as he tilted his head just slightly, silently offering you more. A quiet breath escaped him. You let your mouth linger, lips pressing just firmly enough to draw a soft gasp from his throat. When you finally pulled away, his skin was faintly flushed, and a delicate bloom of red marked the spot where your mouth had been.

Your fingers moved gently along the hem of his shirt, your touch featherlight—asking, not taking. When your eyes lifted to meet his, you found him already watching you. His cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, but he only nodded his head at your silent question.

You slowly slid the fabric up, revealing the pale skin beneath. You moved with care. This wasn’t about rushing, it was about seeing him and taking care of him. Sieun’s breathing hitched as your fingers traced his collarbone, his chest rising and falling beneath your palm. You kissed down his chest and took on of his nipple into your mouth and bite it gently. Sieun responded with a sound in the back of his throat that sent shivers down your spine.

You continued your way down, pressing soft kisses along the waistband of his pajama bottoms. His hands clenched the comforter tightly, knuckles paling with tension. “Still okay?” You asked, pausing, your fingers already hooked around the band of both his joggers and underwear.

“Y-Yeah.” He responds shakily. “Please…”

You slowly remove his bottom, feeling nervous yourself. Your lips parted in surprise when his dick sprang free, mouth already salivating. You took your time and ran your hands up his legs, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt as your thumbs rubbed circles on his inner thighs.

Sieun squeezed his eyes shut when you delicately took a hold of him. He was heavy and hard in between your hand. Pre-cum was slowly dribbling down his length. A quiet exhale slipped from Sieun’s lips. It almost sounded like a curse.

You rubbed up and down him tentatively, testing how much pressure seemed to be getting the right reaction. The muscles of his thighs tightened as you focused on the head of his cock and more fluid leaked down to his base. A soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips.

“You’re so pretty.” You couldn’t help but whisper in awe. His dick twitched in your grasp in answer.

Gathering your courage, your tongue timidly darted out to lick him. Sieun mouth opened, but no words came out. He raised himself on his elbow to look down at you, surprised. You could see the blush spreading across his cheeks, a shade you’d never seen on him before, making him look so vulnerable, so beautiful.

Under his gaze, you simply continue to lick his tip, your tongue flattening over his slit, slurping on his pre-cum. A whimper left Sieun’s mouth and you look up to see his face contorted in pleasure, features softening into an expression of pure bliss.

He let himself fall back on his back when you decided to take him fully. Your hand wrapped around the parts of him you couldn’t reach. You moaned around him, the vibration causing to him gasp. Your eyes closed a moment in concentration as you greedily took more, gagging around him a little bit. Sieun’s head tipped back against the pillow, exposing his throat fully. His hands were still by his side, clenching and unclenching uncontrollably in the sheets.

“Y/N I’m—“ He interrupted himself, bringing his forearm over his face, trying to hide—whether from the intensity or from how exposed he felt, even he didn’t know. His lips parted, and a quiet, helpless sound slipped out. His body became tensed.

Suddenly, a growl left him as hot cum shoot down your throat. You continued sucking as spurt after spurt came, taking everything he gave you. Sieun’s chest was rising and falling erratically. His whole body was shaking in satisfaction. Soft whimper escaped his lips now as you sucked him dry and finally released him.

When you rose, breathless, you gently reached for Sieun’s forearm, which had still been shielding his eyes. With a soft touch, you moved it away, revealing the rawness in his expression. His eyes fluttered open, still clouded with a mixture of vulnerability and bliss. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. His gaze softened, meeting yours, but there was something almost frantic in the way his hands reached for yours, seeking reassurance.

For a moment, he didn’t speak, just leaned into your touch, as if grounding himself with the connection between the two of you. His lips parted, but no words came out—only a quiet, shaky breath as his body trembled slightly beneath you.

You gently cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin in a slow, soothing motion. Your heart ached a bit at the rawness in his eyes, the vulnerability he was letting slip through. A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in a little closer, your voice lighter than before.

“So, are you okay?” You asked, your tone playful, but the concern still lingering in your eyes. “Or do I need to keep checking on you to make sure I didn’t break you?”

For a moment, Sieun just stared at you, his expression unreadable. But then, a flicker of something crossed his face, and his lips twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile but was too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions.

“I’m fine.” He said, his voice hoarse but earnest, though it still held a quiet vulnerability. “Just… didn’t expect that.”

You raised an eyebrow, still teasing. “I’ll take that as a compliment, then.“

Sieun blushed, his eyes flickering to the side, and for the first time since everything started, he looked like he was finding his footing again. You could feel the tension in his body start to loosen, a soft chuckle escaping him in response.

“I’ll… I’ll be okay,” he said again, this time with more conviction. “Just… give me a minute.”

You giggled then nodded, leaning down to brush a gentle kiss against his forehead before resting your head back on his shoulder. “Take all the time you need,” You whispered softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

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blueberrybirdsworld · 2 months ago

Text

The Cat Distribution System 2/5

Summary:

When a stray kitten adopts Lando Norris, the self-proclaimed cat hater accidentally starts a soft-launch spiral with his secret girlfriend the ballerina Ariana Riverria.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, SMAU

Warning : none, just yeah the kitten will be different in some pictures

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

CHAPTER TWO :

@landonorris "does bringing a cat on a boat dangerous ?"

@landozoned: sir that is a BABY what if he falls overboard 😭

@maxfewtrell: do you even OWN a cat carrier or is it just vibes now??

@pietra: not the yachting kitten era

@charles_leclerc: cat has better balance than me respect

@catdadconfirmed: peak chaotic cat dad energy I love this journey for you

Texts messages :

Ari 💃:

HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT????

Lando 🧡:

hello to you too 🧡

Ari 💃:

DID YOU ACTUALLY BRING CHARLIE ON A FREAKING BOAT??

Lando 🧡:

he likes the breeze. he’s a sea explorer now.

Ari 💃:

HE’S A CAT NOT A VIKING. WHAT IF HE FELL IN?? WHAT IF A SEAGULL TOOK HIM??

Lando 🧡:

he had a towel nest. and snacks. and I almost bought him cat-sized sunglasses.

Ari 💃:

you're out of control. i'm changing your name in my phone to "Captain Whiskers"

Lando 🧡:

you’re just mad he likes it. he purred for an hour and fell asleep like a sailor off-duty

Ari 💃:

oh he’s yours now. emotional support kitten. you two are inseparable.

Lando 🧡:

...help?

Ari 💃:

nah. enjoy your new title: maritime meowther 🐱⚓

@landonorris "long week. swipe for serotonin."

@landozoned: so we’re just pretending the kitten is normal now?? cool cool

@maxfewtrell: how is he not suffocating in your arms bruv

@catdadconfirmed: serotonin delivered, thanks lando

@alexandralovely: lando norris and his son. i’m crying.

@arianariverria "Sunday snuggles ✨"

@pliésballet: WHERE did the orange one come from again???

@kitteninfirst: they’re siblings now and I won’t hear otherwise

@balletnation: honestly the cats are soft-launching their humans at this point

@pietra: cute cats. suspicious caption.

But nothing broke the internet quite like Ariana's story one quiet Thursday night.

It was only up for three minutes. Just long enough.

A grainy photo, snapped from the side: Ariana curled up on a grey couch, head resting on someone’s shoulder, half of her face hidden in the crook of a hoodie. A ginger kitten sleeping across both their laps. The boy’s face wasn’t visible, but his profile was unmistakable to those who knew how to look.

The post was gone by the time most people refreshed their feeds.

But not before it was screenshotted.

Twitter Thread by @balletxf1 :

[1] OKAY WAIT.

[2] That Ariana story??? The one she deleted?? I’ve done the work. Let’s investigate.

[3] Zoom and enhance. That hoodie? The McLaren one Lando wore two days ago in his Twitch stream.

[4] The kitten? Lando's one.

[5] The arm? The watch? That is Lando Norris.

[6] Not to be dramatic but I think we just got a full soft-launch slip

@f1girlies: I KNEW IT. I SAID IT IN JANUARY.

@balletinthepit: we were fed. accidentally. but fed nonetheless

@landoffline: y'all analyzing shadows like CSI and winning

@catloverxoxo: obsessed with the fact the kitten is the one exposing them

@formulapirouette: Lando and Ariana are co-parented a cat it’s canon

Text messages :

Lando 🧡:

did you mean to soft-launch us or are we just on autopilot now?

Ari 💃:

I didn’t mean to post it omg my finger slipped

Lando 🧡:

sure sure sure

Ari 💃:

I DELETED IT IN 3 MINUTES

Lando 🧡:

that was enough. they CSI'd the hoodie AND my watch

Ari 💃:

ffs. it’s the cat. he’s the problem

Lando 🧡:

you mean our son? our fluffy, chaos-bringing, matchmaking menace?

Ari 💃:

oh so now you LIKE cats suddenly?? mister "i don't trust anything with claws" is now a cat dad who brings Charlie to boat trips, gaming streams, brunch dates ??? 😹

Lando 🧡:

i plead temporary insanity caused by toe beans and purring. this is not who i was. he changed me.

Ari 💃:

i’m blaming him forever. he soft-launched us. not me

Lando 🧡:

fair. he’s grounded

Ari 💃:

grounded and cuddled. he’s on my lap right now

Lando 🧡:

traitor

Part 3

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imaginespazzi · 11 months ago

Text

Part 1: Simple Things

Masterlist -Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Cause your presence still lingers here (it won't leave me alone)

(In which a procrastinating writer starts another series to continuously procrastinate on)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 5.8K (lowkey shocked I managed that)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Look at me not being a liar! I'mma try to be good with updates but we all know me. This first chapter is mainly buildup and it's not my favorite but it's important to get the plot rolling. I know very little about California and it's going to become more and more apparent throughout this series so everyone who knows Cali, just pretend thanks! Did I edit? Yes. Are there probably still mistakes? Also yes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked, and what you wanna see next!

February 2033

“Anywhere but GSV,” Paige says adamantly, staring at the white wall in front of her, instead of her exasperated agent.

Talia lets out a deep sigh, perfectly manicured sharp red nails tapping incessantly against her desk. For the most part, Paige is a dream client and when Talia says jump, she says how high. It’s easy to trust Talia’s vision when she hasn’t let her down once since Paige’s management company has assigned her to their basketball sensation. But most of those decisions had been about endorsement opportunities, opportunities that wouldn’t have other ramifications on the rest of Paige’s life, opportunities that didn’t come with personal consequences.

“Paige-”

“How about the Sparks?”

“They’re not offering nearly as much.”

“I’m okay with taking a pay-.”

“You do not pay me as much as you do for me to let you finish such a stupid sentence.”

“Fine,” Paige spins around in her swivel chair, “you’re telling me nobody else is offering me anything as big as GSV.”

“Well I mean Indiana…” Talia trails off, barely able to hide an impish grin at Paige’s pronounced eyeroll, “and of course you could always just stay in Dallas.”

Paige winces at the mention of the current team. With one championship and two MVP campaigns under her belt, it would be incorrect to say her time with the Wings hadn’t been fruitful but she’d never felt quite at home here. And that had been before the personnel changes had hit Dallas and suddenly, the team coming off a near perfect season with a trophy in their hand, was struggling to keep themselves in playoff contention. Paige had stuck it out two more seasons after, a testament to her loyal nature and desire to start and finish her career at the same place like many legends had done but ultimately enough had been enough and she’s come to terms with the fact that she’s not meant to be a part of the Wings forever.

“Can’t you try talking to the Sparks again?” she says, hands massaging her temple as she resorts to begging, “it’s fucking L.A. they’ve got to have some money lying around somewhere.”

“Even if they did, you and I both know the Sparks aren’t a good fit basketball wise either. GSV has everything you’re looking for. They need a PG and you need a championship contender who’s offering you a deal like they are. You can’t throw all of that away just because-”, Talia bites her lip, catching herself before she can vocalise out loud the real reason they’re having such a complicated conversation about what should be a simple decision.

Paige swallows uncomfortably, skin prickling with that all too familiar fire that spreads through her veins every time her past brushes a little too close to her present. It would be impossible to keep them from ever colliding, but for almost a decade now, Paige has managed to keep them separate beyond absolute necessity. She’s done the cordial handshakes when the Wings played the Valkyries and given due diligent praise when the media had asked about the competition, but that was it. More than that would have been like willingly walking into a fire with kerosene all over her body. And Paige can’t do that, not when the burn marks from years and years ago, still haven’t healed.

“Team chemistry is important,” Paige says finally, “I might be an on-court fit at GSV but that won’t matter if it’s a disaster off the court.”

Talia sighs and Paige can tell she’s fighting the urge to whack her head against her desk, “it’s been years Paige. You've lived a whole life without each other. The two of you are adults. You’re professionals and you’re two of the best goddamn players in the league. You have the same goal; you want to win. You don’t think you can put that behind you to get you both what you want?”

You've lived a whole life without each other

It’s like a well-aimed arrow that barely breaks skin but shatters something underneath, something buried deep within, something she should have gotten rid of years ago but hasn’t been able to let go of yet. Something that feels a lot like a forever she’d never gotten to live out and an always that had flown out of her reach. And Paige knows nobody lives the life they’d expected to live at fifteen or even eighteen but the truth is that most of her dreams had come true. The only thing missing was the person she’d expected to be there by her side when they did.

“Okay listen,” Talia begins again, “here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Bossy,” Paige smirks, bracing herself, knowing she’s not about to like the next words out of Talia’s mouth.

“You’re going to go to San Francisco,” the older woman raises a silencing hand the minute Paige tries to protest, “you’re going to meet the front office, you’re going to meet the GM and you’re going to tour their facilities. And if after talking with them and seeing all they have to offer, if it’s still not enough to counter having to play with her, then we can revisit this conversation.”

“Can I say no?” Paige tilts her head with a sigh.

Talia smirks and it’s enough for Paige to let her head finally hit the table, “your flight leaves in two days.”

***

Azzi wakes up to a light weight sprawled over her back and tiny fingers rubbing circles against her temple. She can’t help but smile, keeping her eyes closed and listening to the sound of her daughter’s quiet breathing as the little girl continues her ministrations. It’s a new skill she’s been taught, to wake her mom up like this instead of screaming. So far, Azzi think’s it’s been a successful transition.

“Mama,” Stephie whispers in Azzi’s ear, “are you awake yet cause I really really want waffles.”

Azzi laughs, finally flipping herself over and Stephie squeals as she goes from on top of her mother, to landing on the bed, “I thought you said you wanted pancakes last night?”

“I did,” a thoughtful look crosses the five-year-old's eyes, “I think I changed my mind.”

“You think?” Azzi suppresses a smile. It’s uncanny really how she’d given birth to her perfect mini-me. The moment the nurses had placed the tiny little creature into her waiting hands, she’d noticed immediately how much it felt like looking through a door into her childhood. And with every passing day, it seems Stephie morphs more and more into Azzi. From the way her face betrays her every emotion to the way she can’t make a decision to save her life, it’s all Azzi and really it makes sense, because Stephie is all Azzi’s.

“Yes,” Stephie nods matter-of-factly as she sits up onto her knee and pulls at Azzi’s blanket, “so can you get up and make me waffles now?”

“Oh of course I can, your highness,” Azzi says dramatically, rising off the bed and letting Stephie climb onto her back, “would you like chocolate sauce or maple syrup with that your majesty?”

Stephie groans, burying her face in Azzi’s neck as if her mother has asked her to make the most difficult decision in the world. They settle into their morning routine, Stephie brushing her teeth as Azzi goes through her meticulous skin care regiment, occasionally dabbing little bits of this and that on her daughter’s skin, eliciting soft giggles from the little girl. It’s her favourite sound in the entire world. Azzi’s life isn’t perfect and there’s a million what if’s, one bigger than all of the others, that plague her mind sometimes but then she looks at Stephie, and she knows she wouldn’t change a single decision she’d made. Because they’ve all led to this moment, 9 am on a Friday, making waffle batter as her five-year old sits on the counter-top. It’s not everything but it’s enough.

The frantic sound of a door being haphazardly slammed open has both Stephie and Azzi startled, until Colleen comes bursting through it like a tornado.

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Azzi’s best friend and manager says, out of breath, as she throws her car keys on the kitchen table.

“Hi Aunty Leen,” Stephie grins, waffle batter all over her mouth as she continues to dip and lick.

“Hey kiddo,” Colleen ruffles Stephie’s hair before sitting down and staring pointedly up at Azzi, “you might wanna sit down for this. I have news.”

“Sorry to break it to you Collen but your new h-o-o-k-u-p-s are not sit-down-newsworthy,” Azzi smirks as Colleen scrunches up her nose trying to keep up with the spelling.

“Oh trust me Az, I wish this was about my h-o-o- whatever,” Colleen takes a deep breath, “GSV is meeting with a potential point guard this week.”

“I would hope so. We really need a PG if we’re gonna redeem ourselves next season.”

“Right, well- you see- the thing is-”

“Today if you can please Colleen,” but there’s this knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Her sixth sense that’s been dormant for years is prickling and if she’s honest with herself, Azzi knows the next words that are about to come out of Colleen’s mouth before her best friend has even said them.

“GSV wants to sign Paige,” Colleen says slowly.

For a moment there’s silence and it’s ridiculous how all it takes is her name for Azzi’s mind to start flipping through pages and pages of a photo album she’s buried deep in the treasure chest of her mind. And for a second, she allows herself to get lost in a flood of everything we could have been until the sting of her hand slipping against the waffle iron jolts her back to reality.

“Fuck,” she curses, immedaitely blowing at her fingers. It does nothing. She should know by now that when things burn, the flames might die out, but even the ashes remain on fire.

“Bad word Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, unaware that her mother’s world has just been thrown off balance, “you owe me a kiss.”

She juts her cheek out and Azzi complies, trying to ignore the way her heart is desperately trying to beat out of her chest. It only calms down a little when Stephie presses a kiss of her own against Azzi’s cheek.

“Sorry sweetheart, mama’s bad, Here can you mix this batter for me,” Azzi whispers to the younger girl, distracting her child with something to do, before rounding on her best friend, “she can’t come here.”

Colleen sighs, getting comfortable in her chair, “unfortunately I don’t think you have much choice.”

“The h-” Azzi cuts herself off, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, “the haystack I don’t. This is my team and I don’t want her on it and I’m gonna walk into Ohemaa’s office and tell her exactly that.”

“Right and what exactly are you going to tell her when she asks you why you don’t want the best point guard in the league on your team Azzi? Your team, who mind you, lost in the finals last year because you didn’t have a point guard.”

Azzi flinches, gritting her teeth, both at the reminder of the loss that had happened not long enough ago and the fact that she couldn’t very well go into her boss’s office and blurt out the truth about a tragic relationship that had lived and died in secret.

“It's a bad idea, the two of us- we’ll kill each other Colleen,” she struggles to string the words together, swallowing away the we already have that tastes like bile on the tip of her tongue.

“Well you’re gonna have to learn not to,” Colleen says decisively, slipping from being Azzi’s best friend to her manager, “because you and I both know that if you want GSV to win another championship, you’re going to need her.”

“Are you my manager or GSV’s,” Azzi grunts, rubbing a tired hand against her forehead.

Colleen smiles, “it’s the same thing isn’t it? What’s good for GSV is good for you. And we all know the two of you thrive on the court together.”

“We did. Past tense,” the admission falls like lava from Azzi’s lips, singeing the edges of her mouth as everything that she’d let simmer underneath threatens to bubble over, “there’s no guarantee we still will. Besides, it's all a moot point anyways because she would never agree.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Colleen cocks an eyebrow and Azzi groans at the rhetorical question, waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop, “because last I checked, she’s flying into San Francisco tomorrow.”

***

Paige has a problem. A really big fuck i really want to be a golden state valkyrie type of problem. She’d fought it every step of the way since she’d landed in San Francisco. Something about the city felt like it was bursting with basketball. The drive from the airport into Oakland had been bursting with murals of the Warriors and the Valkyries and for a split second, Paige can see her own face up on the billboards in a #5 Valkyries jersey. She just doesn’t know if it she can imagine herself next to the woman in #35 again, the woman whose smile in the posters is exactly as she remembers it to have been like when it was pressed into Paige’s skin every night almost a decade ago.

On top of that, Omehaa Nyanin had seemed to know exactly what made Paige Bueckers, the basketball player, tick. Every argument Paige had about why she shouldn’t be Valkyrie, the woman had a counter ready, as if she’d already anticipated exactly what the blonde would say. The Valkyrie coach had been even more prepared with videos of their offensive and defensive sets and how they fit in tandem with Paige’s own skill set, all ready to show off the minute she had walked through the door. It should be the easiest decision in the world to let herself just belong to this world that is screaming her name but there’s a rope around her waist trying to tug her back to safety, trying to tug her away from dousing her still-open wounds in salt.

Sighing, Paige lets herself into what she’s been told is called the “chill area”. Coach had offered to give her a tour of the facilities herself but Paige had declined, asking instead for her former UConn teammate and currently Valkyrie centre Jana El Alfy to do the honours, desperate for a familiar face who knew her history to bounce her thoughts off. It clearly wasn’t what the woman had wanted, but considering she was trying to convince Paige to choose them, whatever the blonde wanted, she was going to get. Massaging her temples at this irritating predicament she’s unwillingly found herself in, Paige’s head rolls back against the back of the chair, eyes closing involuntarily.

“You’re not supposed to sleep in here,” a tiny voice echoes and Paige almost jumps out her skin in shock.

“Fucking hell,” she curses as her eyes fall upon a little girl who seems to have materialized out of nowhere, “shit kid, you scared me.”

The child scrunches her nose and Paige feels her heart beat start to quicken as recognition settles in. She knows this little girl, has seen her on the sidelines at countless games and just like every other time, all she can think of is just how much this child resembles the future Paige had once believed would be hers.

“You owe me three kisses,” the girl says matter-of-factly, her tone so similar to her mothers. It shouldn’t surprise Paige, not when the kid has those same dark curls, those same doey brown eyes, that same nose scrunch.

“I owe you three kisses?” Paige repeats.

The girl rolls her eyes letting out a sigh far too grave for someone of her age, “yes. Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. You said three bad words, so you owe me three kisses.”

“And what does Mama say about asking strangers for kisses?”

“Stranger danger duh silly,” the child puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she looks at Paige with a far too familiar expression, “but you’re not a stranger.”

Paige purses her lips, “I’m not?”

“You’re Paige Bueckers. I’ve seen you at Mama’s games and Nanna and Pops have pictures of you in their house,” she stops, staring accusingly, “you don’t know who I am? Did you forget me?”

And Paige doesn’t know what catches her off guard more. The casual mention of a house that used to feel like a home, of people that used to feel like family or the fact that, that puppy dog stare still has the exact same effect on her that it did years ago, even if the owner of said eyes is different.

“Of course I didn’t forget you. You’re Stephanie,” Paige says softly, trying to muster a smile as she adds the last name, “Stephanie Fudd.”

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” comes the immediate correction, “but everybody calls me Stephie,” tiny hands wrap around Paige’s neck as Stephie climbs on to her lap, tapping a finger on her left cheek as she smiles up at Paige, “so now can I have my kisses?”

Slowly, Paige presses three featherlight kisses against the little girl’s cheek and when Stephie squeals in delight, she wishes she could record it. Someone somewhere is playing a practical joke on her, Paige is sure of it. Because all of a sudden, all the little things she’s been collecting as to reasons why she might just like the Bay Area are starting to feel insignificant in front of this one, in front of Stephie and her innocent smile and the way her free hand is curled around Paige’s neck as if she’ll hold on forever. And the world is definitely playing a cruel prank on her because Stephie can’t be the reason Paige wants to stay, not when her mother’s the reason Paige needs to go.

“Your Mama just lets you run around the building like this?” Paige asks, trying to focus on Stephie instead of the turmoil in her brain.

Stephie smiles sheepishly, “well I was ‘posed to stay with Aunty Leen while Mama talks to Miss O but then Aunty Leen got a call and I was bored so I came here.”

It doesn’t take Paige too long to decipher that Miss O must be Omehaa, but she’s stuck on who the hell Aunty Leen could be. She’s distinctly aware that her skin has no right to prickle, her hands have no right to sweat, her stomach has no right to knot, she has no right to feel anything when it comes to Stephie’s mother. But jealousy floods through her anyways.

“Who is Aunty Leen?” Paige asks and then mentally slaps herself for it.

“Aunty Leen is Aunty Leen,” Stephie explains unhelpfully, “so Miss Buecks-”

“Bueckers.”

Stephie shoots her an unimpressed look, “same things Miss Buecks. Are you here to join Mama’s team?”

“I-” Paige scratches her neck, only slightly taken aback by the direct question, “I don’t know.”

“You should,” Stephies says decisively, “Mama’s team is the best team in the world and Mama’s the best player in the whole wide world.”

Paige can’t help but smile at Stephie’s loyalty, “so why does her team need me then?”

Stephie looks contemplative for a moment before she uses her index finger to beckon Paige towards her, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course you can,” Paige says, leaning her ear down so Stephie can whisper into it.

“Don’t tell anyone but you’re my second favourite player.”

Paige swears her heart feels like it might burst. She’s been plenty of people’s favourite player and it’s always been nice to hear. But somehow, all of that seems to pale in comparison to being Stephie’s second favourite player.

“Why’s that a secret?” she asks softly.

“Cause you play for the wrong team silly. I can’t cheer for not Mama’s team,” Stephie huffs and then her eyes twinkle, “that’s why you should play for Mama’s team and then I can support you!”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Paige concedes, battling against the part of her brain that’s conjuring up an image of Stephie on the sidelines, cheering for Paige.

“What’s log-ic?” Stephie asks.

“Just means you’re a really smart kid,” Paige says, tapping the little girl’s nose. Her head is ringing with warning bells because this floaty feeling of belonging that’s encompassed in this little bubble she’s found herself in with Stephie is not one she’s allowed to feel, not now, not ever.

“STEPHIE,” a shrill voice echoes outside and Stephie immediately dives into Paige’s neck, hiding herself in the crook of it as a frazzled woman bursts through the door. Her eyes soften when they fall on Paige and the blonde can’t help the caught expression that filters on her face. She knows she’s done nothing wrong; Stephie had been the one to find her after all. But perhaps it’s because she’s scared Colleen will take one look at her and see that tiny rebellious part of her that wants to fight what’s coming next, wants to fight the woman who’s going to take Stephie away from her. Paige isn’t one to get attached easily. It had only ever happened once before when she was fifteen and she’d just known that the girl shooting three’s next to her on the court was meant to be in her life in one way or another. But things had been simple then. Nothing was simple now.

“Stephie,” Colleen says slowly, “what have I told you about running away from me?”

Stephie peeks her head out from Paige’s chest, a coy smirk playing on her lips, “not to do it? But you were boring me Aunty Leen.”

Oh that’s Aunty Leen, Paige thinks and she absolutely should not let out a sigh of relief at that but she does anyway.

“I was on the phone for two minutes, Steph.”

“Two minutes too long,” Stephie counters and Paige has to stifle a laugh.

Colleen rolls her eyes before holding out a hand, “well your Mama’s nearly done so we have to get going kiddo.”

“Can Miss Buecks come with us?” Stephie asks innocently and both Colleen and Paige freeze.

“I don’t think-”

“I’m not sure-”

They both begin before their eyes flicker to each other and they can’t help but smile. It’s funny how relationships work, how one snapped string can cause a whole web to dissolve, no matter how hard everyone involved had tried to make it work.

“I’m waiting to meet someone sweetheart so I can’t come right now,” Paige explains, “but maybe next time?”

And she shouldn’t add that last part, not when Paige should be devising an escape plan to never be in Oakland again instead of giving Stephie false hope about a next time that’s far from guaranteed. But it’s worth it for the way Stephie grins, staring at Paige like she’s given her the world’s greatest gift.

Before Paige can say anything, the little girl presses her lips against Paige’s cheek and she swears she stops breathing for a moment, “I hope you choose to play for Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I think you’d look pretty in purple.”

***

May 2024

“I’ve figured it out,” Paige says triumphantly as she unceremoniously flops onto Azzi’s bed.

“Well hi to you too babe,” Azzi grumbles as she scoots over to give the other girl space. It’s unnecessary because the minute she does, Paige only moves closer, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s torso.

“Hi baby,” she whispers before pressing a kiss against her girlfriend’s lips and pulling away so quickly that it leaves Azzi chasing after her.

Azzi huffs and Paige laughs as she gets herself comfortable, resting her chest on the darker skinned girl's stomach, “I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Our future,” Paige says triumphantly and Azzi can’t help but smile at the our as she intertwines their fingers together. It’s been years in the making and there’s nothing Azzi’s more confident in than those two words. Not everyone finds forever this young, but she’s certain they have because really she can’t imagine a life where they don’t belong to each other, a life where every night isn’t spent exactly like this.

“And what do you see for our future,” Azzi asks softly.

“Well it’s simple really,” Paige hums, “I’m going to get drafted wherever next year but the year after, you’re definitely getting drafted to Valkyries-”

“I don’t know about definitely-”

“Azzi it’s rude to interrupt,” Paige sends her a chastising look.

“Right of course,” Azzi nods solemnly, “continue.”

“As I was saying. You’re definitely getting drafted to the Valks and then we just have to wait for my rookie contract to be up and boom! I’ll join you in the Bay Area and we’ll be together forever and ever and ever.”

Azzi giggles, brushing her hands through Paige’s hair, “that simple huh?”

“That simple,” Paige promises, catching hold of one of Azzi’s hands to press a kiss to her palm, “it’s us Az, we’ll always be simple. Besides, I think we’d both look pretty good in purple.”

***

May 2033

The Valkyrie facilities are state of the art as expected. Jana is the perfect tour guide, pointing out everything she knows will garner Paige’s attention. As they step foot onto the practice court, Paige feels the overwhelming sense of this could be home that’s been dancing along with her every step of the way today. All the resolve she’d carried with her from Dallas is slowly crashing down and she can practically hear Talia’s sing-song i told you so voice echoing in her head.

“You’d be really good here P,” Jana says excitedly, doing a little spin.

“You’d be lucky to have me,” Paige teases, as she picks up a basketball and subconsciously starts dribbling.

Jana laughs, before a serious expression takes over, “we would. We got really close to winning it all last year and I think you might be our missing piece.”

“I want to,” Paige confesses, “I just-” her eyes flicker to the most recent MVP poster hanging on the walls, Jana’s gaze following hers, “I don’t know if I should. It’s so complicated.”

“Only if you let it be,” Jana says as she swipes the ball out Paige’s hands, “don’t think of everything else P, just- just think of the basketball. Because you know basketball-wise, this is the right move,” she passes the ball to Paige with a smirk, tilting her head towards the basket, “why not take a shot at it P?”

Paige shakes her head, palming the ball in her hands, “can’t believe my son’s all grown up.”

“Children of divorce have no choice but to grow up,” Jana says gravely and Paige laughs despite herself.

Taking a deep breath, Paige raises the ball, arching her arms perfect as she shoots it. It barely touches the rim, before falling through the basket with swish. Hitting the floor with a quiet thud, the ball rolls until it’s stopped by someone's foot. Behind her, Paige can hear Jana cheering for the shot but she barely registers it, her entire attention on the new figure who’s just entered the court. It’s a tale as old as time. Azzi Fudd enters the room and suddenly everything else in Paige’s peripheral fades away, until it’s just her and the girl who still manages to steal her breath away.

“Nice shot,” Azzi says, as she takes a slow step towards Paige. The air is thick with tension as if a time capsule has been opened and their past is leaking onto the pages of their present, staining it with marks of the you and me that we used to be. She should say something, even if it’s just an acknowledgement of the compliment but her tongue feels dry and she’s scared that if she opens her mouth, all the things she shouldn’t say will flood out instead.

“Hey Az,” Jana’s eyes flicker awkwardly between her former teammates, “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Had to talk to Omehaa about a couple of things,” Azzi says airly, eyes still fixated on Paige, “Jana can we have a minute?”

“You won’t kill each other will you?” Jana asks nervously.

Azzi laughs and even Paige cracks a small smile, “no Jana, we won’t kill each other.”

“Just making sure because last time-” Jana clamps a hand to her mouth as both Paige and Azzi flinch, “because nothing- you guys- you guys talk. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

She scampers away cursing to herself about putting her foot in her mouth and it would be amusing, if not for the fact that Paige can still barely breathe. They haven’t been alone in a room since last time and the air around them hangs heavy with the casings of the grenades they’d hurled at each other.

“I’ve never seen you with braids this early in the year. They used to be your summer braids,” Paige remarks slowly. It’s a mundane change to notice but it’s significant of the larger truth, significant of all the time that’s passed, significant of the fact they don’t know these new versions of each other.

“Yeah um, can’t really do summer braids with the W season,” Azzi chews at her lip.

“Right yeah- yeah that makes sense,” Paige nods. The awkwardness is killing her. She’d never been a fan of the silence, always more comfortable in the chaos but it had been different with Azzi. There had been something peaceful, something calming, about the quiet, when it was just the two of them, hands intertwined, eyes closed, as they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeat.

“Paige-”

“Are you here to tell me not to come to GSV?” Paige blurts out, “because it’s- it’s okay if you are like I get it. I mean- the two of us- it’s just really fucking complicated so I get it- I get it if you don’t want me here.”

“I didn’t,” Azzi admits and it shouldn’t, but Paige feels it sting anyways, “you’re right. You and I- there’s just a lot there and it would- it would be really complicated and when Colleen first told me I- I was gonna go fight Omehaa and be like abso-fucking-lutely not but-” she sucks in a deep breath, “do you remember the promise we made to each other?”

“We made a lot of promises to each other,” Paige says, unable to keep the harshness out of her tone, “sorry I-”

“No you’re right,” Azzi swallows, “but I meant the promise we made when we first started dating. We said we’d never let the personal affect the professional. We promised each other that no matter what, we’d never let our relationship affect us on the court And I know- I know we’ve broken a lot of promises to each other,” they both let out a breath at that, “but I think- I think maybe we should try and keep this one.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need a championship contender and GSV needs a PG. Paige, I’m not here to convince you to not come to GSV, I’m here to ask you to join our team,” Azzi says resolutely.

Paige isn’t easily shocked by anything really. She’s lived what she’d consider a pretty interesting life but of course if anyone was going to surprise her, it would be Azzi. Azzi, who has always been an exception to every rule.

“You- you want me on your team?” Paige repeats, a little dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Azzi affirms, “you told me once that we could be the best backcourt duo in college basketball and we were, even if it was only for a year, we were and so now I’m telling you that I think we could be the best backcourt duo in the WNBA.”

Paige is silent for a second before a smirk takes over her features, “I think I did a lot more than tell you, pretty sure I had a whole video that proved it.”

“Are you asking me to make you a recruiting video?” Azzi raises an unamused eyebrow.

Paige shrugs, “could be a nice gesture.”

“I have a five year old child, Bueckers. Trust me when I say I don’t have enough spare time for bullshit like that when you can easily just search up our highlights on youtube. Or just look in your trophy case if you’re looking for proof of how good we can be together,” Azzi says, a hint of that familiar sass bleeding into her spiel.

“We really were good together weren’t we,” it spills out before Paige can stop it and it’s like they’re taking two steps back from each other, the friendly-ish banter of mere seconds ago being clouded by a past tainted by their mistakes, “on the court I mean. We were really good on the court.”

“Right,” Azzi averts her gaze, “just- just think about it okay? This doesn’t- it doesn’t have to be about you and me, not like that at least. It’s about basketball. GSV is the perfect fit for you and you’re the perfect fit for us. And deep down you must know that too, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe I’m just in it for the free trip to Cali,” Paige surmises.

Azzi scoffs, “you and I both know you make too much money to need a free trip to Cali. If anything, the hotel they’ve given you is probably cheap for your standards.”

“Maybe I just like feeling important? I always did love people showering me with praise.”

“You always did love the attention,” Azzi grins teasingly, “but there’s one thing you always loved more.”

You, Paige thinks but she can’t say that, “and what’s that?”

“Winning. That’s what this is about. You want another championship, so do we. Come help us and let us help you. It’s that simple.”

As Azzi turns to walk away, Paige can’t help but call out from behind her, “you know I think your daughter’s pitch might have been better.”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips when she turns her face back a little. It’s a new smile that Paige can only assume is Azzi’s Stephie smile, “yeah? What did she say?”

“She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple,” Paige smirks.

Azzi laughs, and it’s exactly like Paige remembers, “it’s that simple huh?”

“It’s that simple.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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kuroshitsuji-wiki · 3 months ago

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Trivia: Public School Arc and more!

A wiki is renownedly never done. However, after a major set-back and subsequent migrations, I have finally finished all major Season 4/Public School Arc-related edits on the wiki!!! (Unless wiki.gg suddenly bans the words "witch" and "werewolf," Season 5 edits should be done much quicker and with far less head- and heartache.)

While I was actually fixing up the final page on my list, I saw the news that the manga is coming back and hurried to report on that mid-page-revision. It was... interesting timing.

One of the things I was unable to do during the airing of Season 4 because I was just too busy with other stuff was going through all of Mr. K's and Yana's tweets, extracting all fun trivia, and adding them to the wiki. I have done that now, but also thought I could bundle them all up and share them here too!

Public School Arc trivia

Otoha wrote the opening "The Parade of Battlers" based on the entirety of Kuroshitsuji, particularly on Ciel's life, not just on the Public School Arc.

Ciel has a cookie in his mouth when he hurries to school in the first chapter/episode of the arc and not a piece of toast because Queen Elizabeth II apparently had cookies and tea first thing in the morning.

Soma's observation in Chapter 71 that Cole is "a bit like Ciel" was also meant to refer to the Chapter 129 reveal.

Mr. K said that Violet's drawing of Ciel and the Jabberwock could mean that he is hostile towards Ciel or that he wants Ciel to eradicate something sinister at school, like St. George did. (Per legend, St. George once killed a dragon that extorted tribute from villagers.)

In the fourth episode, Sebastian reads out a Latin poem (part of the Elegiae) to his class. They have a special languages expert on the anime team, and he apparently approved Daisuke Ono's Latin pronunication on his first try, to everyone's surprise.

While making the chapter, Yana had concerns that Ciel could not possibly throw the lantern far enough for it to land inside the Violet Wolf dorm. Mr. K brushed her off though, but later realised that he was wrong. They asked for Sebastian to help Ciel get the lantern to its destination in the anime.

The order in which the cricket teams enter the grand hall for the eve of the tournament party corresponds with their ranking in the previous year's tournament. (Meaning, in 1888, the ranking was: 1. Green Lion, 2. Scarlet Fox, 3. Violet Wolf, 4. Sapphire Owl.)

It was obvious, but Mr. K confirmed that yes, Vincent did not win the cricket tournament fairly, and that Francis and Tanaka know the truth behind the first Miracle of Sapphires.

Yana consulted the Japanese Cricket Association about the "Sword in the Stone" technique. They were surprised by her idea, but gave her the green light for it as it did not violate any rules then.

Mr. K said it is a "positive technique that proves that there is a way to fight even if you're not a star player = someone who cannot pull the sword out."

Yana actually said that what she did to Joanne Harcourt is terrible.

Tanaka and Francis' dance during the afterparty was Yana's personal highlight.

Because Eton College has a "Fourth of June" celebration (though it does not entail a cricket tournament), the tournament takes place on June 4th too. Eton College's festivities do include a boat parade though; it was the basis for Weston College's.

The director Kenjiro Okada added Maurice's little appearance in the penultimate episode.

They might not have been able to make the Public School Arc if they had not had the help of Rico Murakami, the historical advisor.

The covers for chapters 68, 71, 72, 73, and 83 were drawn in the style of Alfons Mucha, obviously.

Character trivia

Francis Midford is the only human character Sebastian is afraid of.

Agni is the strongest human character in the series.

Because Edward is the heir of a marquess, he could have been in Scarlet Fox too.

Mr. K noted that Edward's ability of "single-minded respect" might make him powerful in battle one day.

According to Mr. K, Soma just cannot read the air; still, he gets along with everyone (except Sebastian). He is also one of the few "purely good" characters in the series and always believes in the goodness of people.

Bluewer knows the Weston College rules by heart.

Clayton raises his hands extra high when Sebastian carries Ciel away after they won the tournament because that is how one claps in the Imperial Theatre. Mr. K noted that this might mean that he is actually a nice person.

Maaya Sakamoto was a bit worried for Ciel to have to go to school as he's such a loner and not good with people. He ended up positively surprising her though with how well he handled the situation.

The question of "can Ciel even do this?" actually came up during the first Public School Arc manga meeting. Yana and the others decided that Ciel gained enough experience during the Circus Arc and would be fine. Yana also noted that while Ciel "might not have grown much in terms of appearance or ability" since the first chapter, he is nonetheless "growing steadily and brazenly on the inside."

It was difficult finding a replacement for Tanaka's late voice actor Shunji Fujimura. For that reason, the team decided to bring back Mugihito who voiced Tanaka in the first Drama CD.

Lau talks like a Japanese mafia boss despite his cluelessness.

Yana remarked that Lau and the Viscount of Druitt have the odd tendency to always be there for important points in the story.

Because the Midfords are a family of swordfighters, Yana asked Aniplex to make them look strong.

Other trivia

New staff members could not believe that Kuroshitsuji has a cast full of prominent voice actors. For example, they were surprised that Finnian is voiced by Yuki Kaji.

The little "in-between/breather" chapters are difficult to animate because they often feature a different setting, different characters, different clothes, etc. They are just as demanding to make as a new season.

For basically the same reasons, "breather" chapters are amongst the most difficult/tedious chapters to make amongst the manga staff too. E.g. the boat parade and the afterparty were hard to make because so many characters appeared, many of which even needed new clothes for the occasion.

The Luxury Liner Arc was the most difficult arc to make, according to Yana's assistants: Back then, everything was still done manually, and they could not copy-paste the Bizarre Dolls, for example. The tilting ship also made things extra hard, and Yana had to make a little model out of a milk box as a visualisation help.

Death Scythes (especially Grelle's and Undertaker's) make Yana's assistants despair. Yana later asked a professional to make 3D models of them so that drawing them would be easier.

Mr. K (and another K-san from the Media Division) always supervise the voice recordings for episodes.

The design of the saucer on the cover of the Monthly GFantasy May 2024 issue is a nod to the Public School Arc.

Her research for the Public School Arc helped Yana make Twisted Wonderland.

The more sinful a person is, the stronger are their "future episodes".

I might have forgotten something, but that should be (almost?) all of them^^'

Hope we get a lot of information from Yana and Mr. K during Season 5 too!

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #kuroshitsuji: public school arc #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #soma asman kadar #agni #gregory violet #edward midford #tanaka #francis midford #clayton #lawrence bluewer #maurice cole #lau #aleister chamber #grim reapers #I also just hit 100 followers! thank you^^#(and now on to S5 prep edits and manga hiatus end prep edits and...)

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svt-ivy · 2 months ago

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SEVENTEEN's SCOUPS and IVY Confirmed to be in a Relationship

What are your thoughts?

SEVENTEEN’s IVY and SCOUPS have been involved in dating rumors when a series of photos taken before the pandemic were posted by an unknown user in social media. In these photos they can be seen on late night dates, shopping, and being affectionate with one another.

It was later found out that the photos were taken and later posted by a well-known Sasaeng fan of IVY who is known to follow the idol in private and personal schedules. The post made by the fan was soon deleted after his identity was revealed and the account was taken down due to mass reporting done by fans of the idol group.

Today, months after the series of posts were made speculating about the relationship between IVY and SCOUPS, they have posted a series of photos in their respective personal instagram accounts.

Both of their posts contained a series photos of them together and a letter that they have written on their caption towards their fans.

(Posted on January 1, 2022)

IVY's Letter:

"Hello. This is IVY. We know how deeply Carats care for us, how every moment shared, every stage performance, and every smile we give to you is treasured in your hearts. You've watched us grow, seen us chase our dreams, and been by our side through it all. And now, as a part of that journey, we have been wanting to confirm to you all. Me and Scoups have built a special bond, not just as teammates but as partners who support each other through ups and downs. We know this news might come as a surprise, but we want you to understand that this love is something the both of us cherish dearly. We also know many of you have known for a while (we haven't really been discreet and have also decided not to be hehe) and have been just waiting patiently for a statement from our company and from the both of us confirming or denying the rumors. We are incredibly grateful for the love and respect you all have shown us, and we are asking for your understanding and continued support during this chapter of our lives. Thank you. Love, IVY."

(Posted on January 1, 2025)

SCOUPS Letter:

"Hello. This is SCOUPS. We both have been thinking a lot about how to approach this moment, and I want to be as open and honest with you as I've always tried to be. Over the years, you've all been by our side, supporting us throughout our journey, every challenge, and every success. Carats were always there for us. Today, I would like to finally share something deeply personal—something that means a lot to me, and I hope that you all will understand and continue to support us both. As you know, IVY is someone who has brought so much light and warmth to SEVENTEEN and to all of you. She is a beautiful person, both inside and out. And over time, that connection we shared as teammates, as friends, has blossomed into something more. I'm incredibly happy and grateful to be able to finally say that IVY and I have been in a relationship for 5 years. We wanted you all to get this confirmation from the both of us rather than posts made in social media or articles. We've always shared so much with you, and it's only right that we share this part of our journey too. I know that you've been there for every step of our careers, and I hope that you'll continue to be by our sides. The love and support you've given me means the world, and I want you to know that IVY and I are so grateful to CARATS. Carats unwavering support has shaped us into who we are today, and we are forever thankful. Thank you."

Their announcement on their seperate personal Instagram accounts were soon followed by an official statement by their company, PLEDIS Entertainment.

"Hello. This is PLEDIS Entertainment. After much consideration and respect for the privacy of all parties involved, we are confirming that our artists IVY and SCOUPS, have been in a relationship for the past five years, since January of 2018. Both IVY and SCOUPS have taken great care in maintaining their relationship quietly and respectfully, prioritizing their personal lives alongside their professional careers. We ask for your understanding and continued support as they continue to grow both personally and professionally. Thank you."

Their fans were quick to show their support towards the couple since their confirmation were posted.

Meanwhile, netizens have mixed reactions with some supporting and rooting for the couple and some disagreeing with the idea of the leader and their only female member dating.

[ 그녀는 정말 데이트에 참여했어? ㅋㅋㅋ (Did she really join to date? lol) ]

[ 그녀는 아마 그의 돈을 노리고 있을 거야 ㅋㅋㅋ (She's probably after his money lol) ]

[ 와..... 그들은 마치 천국에서 만들어진 짝 같아요... (Wow.... They are like a match-made in heaven..) ]

[ Honestly, they make such a really great couple and it takes a lot of courage to do what they did. Rooting for their relationship and their group's success. ]

[ I have never seen a fandom be accepting of a dating confirmation as their fans omg ]

[ 둘 중에 누구를 질투해야 할지 모르겠어요 ㅋㅋㅋ (I don't know who to be jealous of between the two of them lol) ]

What are your thoughts? Comment down below.

Click the link below to see more SEVENTEEN contents!

[+82 10] Finally a confirmation from them ㅋㅋㅋ

[+82 10] What carats have been waiting for... ㅋ

[+1] anyone who is trying to hate on them for being adults and having a relationship is probably single and lonely lol

[+82 10] Their letters are really heartwarming indeed.....

[+63] They are the couple of the year indeed.

Requests are open! Feel free to send your requests and questions for Ivy or interact with me!

Comment below or send me a message to join the taglist.

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beannoss · 2 months ago

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Goddamn y'all I have so many Yor thoughts I don't know if I'll ever be able to order them all but, there are two I'm turning over and over in my head after the most recent manga chapter. (Manga spoilers!)

1. Much of Yor's backstory has so far actually been shown through Yuri's thoughts and flashbacks (It's of course also his backstory, but centring Yor here as she is a main character to his secondary.) To be blunt, in the hands of a lesser storyteller, I would think that was just the standard erasure/undervaluing of a woman character's perspectives/telling her own story. But this is Endo and nothing he's done has indicated that as a remote possibility. So I've been thinking a lot recently what it means as a deliberate narrative choice for Yor, an obfuscation of the devastation truth of Yor's backstory. I think we all already know it's going to be heartbreaking and harrowing, but through Yuri's eyes, Yor was cheerful and constant for him throughout. But through Yor's? In Yor's own words? From Yor's perspective? Taking over as primary guardian and breadwinner at ~12 years old? Responsible for a ~5 year old's life?! How terrifying. How challenging. We know, in the at least, how isolating.

(Chapter 91 is one of my favourite Yor chapters, and I think it's a keystone for understanding her. I believe it's the first time she's spoken directly about her childhood experience (although still at a distance), it demonstrates and reiterates her moral centre outside her assassination paradigm, and shows how good she is at bringing people together.)

To that end...

2. Yor's story is partly about how life with the Forgers is empowering her to make her world larger. Where it was once just her and Yuri and her work, now she has a secure home life, a husband who encourages her in herself and in developing other relationships, and a daughter who thrills at who Yor is. I keep thinking about how she said to Melinda in chapter 108 that she doesn't have any hobbies and is envious of Melinda pursuing her own: I'm so hopeful that one of the next things for Yor is developing a hobby that she pursues for the love of it. Not because she needs to do it for work, or because she fears her marriage will end, or out of any other sort of stressor or panic or obligation. But just because she likes flowers and wants to learn flower arranging. Or she's strong and loves sculpture as an art form, and learning when to chip away at granite gently and when to whack it with an enormous hammer will make her feel more comfortable with her own physical strength and her own mind. Or she's always wanted to scale a mountain and wouldn't you know, there's a mountaineering club in Berlint that accepts women into its membership? Yor is learning how big the world really is, how lovely it can be, that she is a part of it and that the people in it welcome her when she opens herself to them, and it's so beautiful.

#yor forger #spy x family #spy x family meta #sxf manga spoilers #i love her so so much #so much of her development has been happening softly and in b-plots #and i am so so so excited it seems we're finally going to be pulling that to the forefront #can't wait for the dish endo's been quietly simmering to get served #(or start to get served? obvs there's still a whole series ahead of us but y'know)#i have so many thoughts about how this ties into her relationship with twilight as well; the way they complement one another #one of the things i love is how yor and twilight are on similar journeys but inverted #where yor's world is expanding because she never got to experience it but she knows something of home and family #twilight's world is contracting because he never got to experience a home life and family but he's seen something of the world #where yor needs a safe place to launch from and twilight needs a safe place to land #sCREAM #i could talk forever #here fandom take this!

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ozai-the-bonsai · 9 months ago

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Could you write for Daemon targaryen like currently after all those nightmares in harnehal he finds a prisoner of harnehal as the only person who brings him peace him falling in love with her and trying to be better person he still fights for team black obviously rahaenya is definitely not happy with these arrangements especially seeing him all dedicated all in love some things he never have done for her but she have no option currently rather accepting his second wife though at the end when team black would be winning and fight at harnehal like aemond Vs Daemon she ask for reader's head happy ending at the end please or anything you wanna write I just wanna see Daemon happy in love at end please

Finally I have time for my hobbies again! Sorry I left you waiting for ages, this term the exam season was tougher than what I have been accustomed to… Anyways, I have started writing some stuff and I wanted to post the intro instead of writing a full-length chapter 1 since it would have taken a couple more days (:

As a side note, I honestly have no idea where this story will be headed because I have no clear course planned, I had some little ideas and I just started writing them. Also I will be introducing stuff which is not in the asoiaf universe.

I am continuing to read Silmarillion from where I left off and let’s say the ideas about Daemon’s love interest are… inspired from what I have been reading (; Enjoy!

Memento Mori

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: strong language, I am not a native English speaker, reader is (or will be) described with long hair

This is a very short introduction! Also the chapter is from Daemon’s pov. The title is inspired by Memento Mori by Lamb of God (the song has been a great inspiration for the story so far)

The dungeons of Harrenhal were cold, wet and lonely.

He had no idea when, how and why he had gone down there – one moment, he was in his chambers and the next, he was opening his eyes to the mossy stone walls of the dark dungeons with a torch in his hand. The line between dreams and reality was becoming thinner each day he spent in this cursed castle.

As Daemon walked past the empty cells, he tried to shake off this unsettling feeling lingering around him, dancing on his neck on its tippy toes, making him wonder whether he was indeed alone.

I doubt Simon Strong keeps prisoners down here, he thought while wiping the water from his forehead which was dripping from the broken ceiling. Maybe he has decided to lock up the witch?

Just when the Rogue Prince – correction, the King Consort – was about to turn back and leave the depressing, humid and somewhat eerie atmosphere of the dungeons behind, a soft humming reached his ears.

A soft, sweet humming of a song coming from one of the cells at the very end of the darkness.

“What kind of prisoner is Simon Strong hiding here?” Daemon asked, his voice created echoes as he waved the torch in front of him, trying to cast some light.

The humming stopped immediately, as if the sound itself was cut by a knife.

Daemon’s purple eyes widened upon seeing that the last cell was indeed not empty.

There was a young woman inside, looking at him with her eyes full of curiosity. Her hair had an unearthly shine under the dim moonlight. She tilted her head to the side. “You can see me?” She asked, it was the same soft voice from a moment ago, though the sweetness was no longer there to be felt.

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Do people not see you?”

The young woman shook her head, her movements – no matter how simple they were – felt almost too harmonious. “Not normally, it is not intended that I am seen.” Stopping for a moment, she eyed Daemon from head to foot. “You are not really here, are you?”

The raised eyebrow quickly turned into a frown. “What do you mean? I am standing in front of you.”

She shook her head once again. As her soft whisper filled his eyes, Daemon started falling into the nothingness, again, for the unknown-th time ever since he had come to Harrenhal.

“Wake up.”

***

When he woke up, trying to catch his breath, Daemon found himself lying on his bed, as always. Anytime he had one of those weird dreams – he wasn’t even sure if he should call them dreams anymore – his consciousness would find its way back to his bed.

Unless he was daydreaming, which were considerably the worse.

“Who the fuck was that weird woman?” Daemon muttered to himself as he stood up, dressing up in his regular robes. The feeling in his stomach was telling him that he had to go down there, to the dungeons, to find that woman. If he were to wait until dawn, he feared she might be gone.

What was it that she said again? It is not intended she is seen?

Leaving his chambers with a torch in his right hand, Daemon shook his head to the thoughts flowing through his mind, causing his silver hair to move. “Weird woman,” he muttered to himself as he walked through the dark corridors of the castle with haste. “She somehow reminds me of the witch.”

The dungeons were as dark and wet as he remembered from the dream. A cold wind was wandering besides him, kissing the mossy walls and licking Daemon’s skin, sometimes whispering wicked words in his ears. Even the wind was odd here, in Harrenhal, but he had somewhat got used to it – hearing its eerie whispers whenever he walked alone during the hour of the wolf.

“Show yourself,” Daemon spoke with a strong voice which created echoes as he stood in front of that very cell from his dream. “Your king commands it!”

“Huh, king?” The same soft voice answered from the dark corner of her cell. The moonlight had left its shining spot, leaving the torch in Daemon’s hands as the only source of light in this entire corridor of the dungeons. “I answer to no king.”

A condescending scoff left Daemon’s lips as he came closer to the bars made of steel, separating him and the weird woman. “You do live in Westros, do you not?” Daemon asked, not really waiting for an answer. “As long as you breathe in this land, you do answer to the King.”

A chuckle came from the darkness. “I have been breathing in this land before your ancestors flew across the Narrow Sea, Daemon Targaryen.”

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa

#daemon x reader #daemon x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #hodt #hodt fic #matt smith #game of thrones #smut

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yuurei20 · 5 months ago

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how muscle is the boy and who the most buff because i think silver gym clothes is lying

Hello hello! Thank you so much for this question! I have been hoping to talk about this for so long ⚔️

There is something special about the school uniform and gym clothes cards 👀

Summary 1) Sprites do not always visually represent what is actually happening in the game 2) Yana does not have full control over what can appear as sprites 3) Yana illustrated the gym clothes and school uniform cards from start to finish by herself!

Details/Sources 1) There is sometimes a disconnect between what the sprites are doing and what is actually happening in the stories, as the limits of the medium mean that they can only portray so much.

We will be told via dialogue that what is actually happening is different from what we're seeing on screen, which is where the "novel" part of "visual novel" has to do some heavy lifting.

(above: We are told that Idia is riding Ortho, Jack has tanned and Kalim is wearing glasses, without anything represented visually.)

This is also true of Silver being unusually well-muscled, with characters referencing such repeatedly! (especially in Book 7, for spoiler-reasons that cannot be shared on this blog)

(Ortho: "Silver is also incredibly built!")

In a vignette Silver explains he was able to beat a man in an arm-wrestling contest who had successfully beaten several "burly" members of Savanaclaw:

"All of Ruggie's burly friends had tried, but each lost within seconds. At first the owner went easy on me. Worried he would hurt me, he said. But once he realized I was no pushover, he stopped holding back...It was no easy feat, but all their encouragement helped me eke out a victory."

As for how Silver can possibly be so well-muscled, he explains it is from life with Lilia:

"I've never really struggled with anything involving physical fitness...my daily life back home was training enough. Drawing river water, chopping firewood...Chasing around the animals who lived nearby must have helped strengthen my legs as well...once I stalled while climbing a sheer cliff, and (Lilia) climbed right up beside me to show me how it should be done."

2) In a tweet posted on 2020/5/12 Yana talks about submitting her idea for Crowley to be wearing a vacation outfit in Book 4, despite expecting it to be rejected.

So it seems that she does not have complete control over how the sprites look: she designs the characters but is maybe not doing the game development work of physically implementing them, and there are others who can approve of or reject her ideas based on in-game limitations.

Was a canon-accurate Silver sprite maybe one of those rejections?

Effort was even made to give Silver muscle in the 2nd anniversary PV, so it does seem to be an important point.

3) We do not know too many details about the team that is helping Yana with card illustrations but we know they have been there from the beginning, with the recently released English-version of the first visual book (called "The official art book" in English) providing translations of Yana's notes to the colorists for the ceremonial robes and labwear art.

(Above: hand-written notes seen on Kalim's labwear and ceremonial robes base art)

She also references a graphic artist in her 2020 interview for the Magical Archives:

"As for the illustrations, this was my first time having my original drawings cleaned up by a graphic artist. I am a very rough draftsman by nature, and I make overall corrections before a piece is complete. No matter how careful I am in my original drawings, sometimes details get confused, so whenever I receive a draft back from the graphic artist, I become a useless original artist who is constantly going back to say, ‘I am so sorry, but can you please make these corrections?’" - Toboso Yana (Magical Archives game guide)

But the gym clothes and school uniforms (the original batch of R cards) were different: Yana says she did them all by herself from start to finish, as they were going to be most people's first introductions to the characters.

Disney Twisted-Wonderland has been released today. ・Character design ・Main scenario creation ・Card illustration (all rarities / including finishing for the R cards) ・Supervision of personal scenarios (writing several as well) I handled everything above. I hope you enjoy it! - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/5/8)

I felt that the initial R school uniforms and sportswear cards are special, as they are likely to be the first introductions to these characters, so I was in charge of them all. I am grateful to have been trusted with them. - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/4/13)

So there we are! 🥳

If anything we can maybe consider the base card art for the gym clothes and school uniforms as more "canon" than the sprite designs of those same characters, even though the sprites are what we're used to seeing, as card art is not being forced to change the characters' appearances in order to fit the limitations of Live 2D sprites ⚔️ Maybe!

(The sprites have this same issue with height! In the game Epel is made taller while Malleus is made shorter, in order to fit his horns in the screen.)

#twstask #twisted wonderland

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feeeeeeeeeesh · 12 days ago

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Corvus Corax and the Raven Guards: addressing some common misconceptions and lore [Part I]

Translator's note: This is a translation of a meta essay written by 沈某 in Chinese, originally posted on Jan 2024. The original can be found here, and I have OP's permission to translate and repost this here. The author can also be found on RedNote here. Any further translator’s notes and additions from me will be in purple. There is a second part coming up. The link will be added here once it's done.

Author's note: The characterisation of Corax and his Raven Guards in the canon novels and storyline is quite unique, which leads to the fandom having misconceptions about them. This is not an accusation of any kind, I too was mislead by some of Corax’s actions, but as I learnt more about them I realised there is a lot of contrast in the way they’re characterised, so here I am trying to voice some of my thoughts.

A brief summary

Corax is a depressed goth literature bro

Corax is withdrawn and has a gothic aesthetic, but he is neither depressed nor a literature bro.

2. Corax is a socialist, he is approachable, against class stratification, and promotes freedom

There can’t be any socialists in the Warhammer setting, Corax is against the oppression of the lower class, not the existence of class itself.

3. Corax is a naive baby that got manipulated by the evil tyrannical Emperor

Corax is not naive and stupid, he clearly understands the morality of the Emperor’s actions. He is willing to sacrifice everything for the Emperor’s vision of humanity, and believes that is the reason he was created. The Emperor also trusts Corax completely.

He is also not a hypocrite who serves a tyrant despite his hatred for tyrants. Once again the setting must be considered; Corax’s definition of tyranny is based on abuse of power rather than simply authoritarianism.

4. Corax hates Curze, and looks down on him

Curze thinks everyone hate him, so Corax must hate him too. Before the Heresy Corax did not much of an opinion on anything besides of the Emperor and the Imperium.

5. The original Terran Raven Guards does not obey Corax; he treats them poorly, and discard them when they are no longer useful

Even the Terran Raven Guards that were sent away on independent missions respects Corax greatly. He has already given all his sons enough support and opportunity, and only most obstinate ones died at Gate Forty-Two, and this also pained him greatly.

1. Corax is a depressed goth literature bro

This is a misconception brought about by TTS (If the Emperor had Text-to-Speech Device). TTS itself is a great parody fanwork but many characters that appear in there differs greatly from canon. As many people were introduced to WH through TTS, so it’s expected that there would be misconceptions.

But to be honest, other than the gothic aesthetic, none of the other points there! Are canon!

Corax never said he enjoyed poetry, reading or writing books, he only mentioned in Deliverance Lost that, once the war is over and he retires, he will write a book, and the book will explain the political philosophies he learnt as a child.

“He was a commander, not a governor, and if he had no more battles to fight, he could have happily spent his remaining years, however many hundreds or perhaps thousands that might be, in comfortable retirement; perhaps compiling a treatise on the political lessons he had learned from his mentors on Lycaeus.”

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 6

This is not the same as an author writing a novel, he just wanted to share what he learnt in the form of writing, and it is not stemmed from a love of literature and creation. Another thing is Corax’s final line “nevermore”, which is a reference to The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, but it’s just a reference, and does not mean that Corax loves poetry.

“His mentors on Lycaeus had taught him of poetry, of rhyme and metre and cadence, but he had never quite been able to see the appeal. Poems reminded him too much of the work-songs the prisoners had invented to keep up their spirits while they had hewn with pick and laser drill at the unforgiving stone of the penal colony. The last three lines left Corax feeling disquieted, though, as if the Emperor had suspected that his Imperium could not endure any more than the great empires of mankind’s long history.”

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 7

This is Corax’s reaction upon seeing poetry written by the Emperor. He didn’t have much thought or emotion in response. He saw the poetry and was reminded of songs he heard before, that’s it.

I interpreted this passage slightly differently, but regardless, there is no canon evidence that Corax liked poetry.

If he had the time, he would’ve better spent it making new equipment for his sons

Shortly after his rise to Captain's rank, Kayvaan Shrike won the Contest of Shadows, a bicentennial trial of stealth and ingenuity. In victory, he was permitted to select any item from the Ravenspire's vaults, his to wield in the Emperor's service until his last breath. Such has ever been a generous prize, for Corax often laboured at the forge in the days after Isstvan V, seeking through the sweat of his brow to replenish an armoury so sorely denuded by the treachery of Horus and the unkindness of fate. Indeed, there even now remain many weapons crafted at the Primarch's hands which have yet to gleam in the flames of war, and it may yet be that many never will, save for in that last striving that one day comes to all warriors, where the enemy presses close and one final stand must be made before all slips into shadow.

Raven Guard Codex 8th edition, p.39

Corax busy making equipment for his sons as seen in the Codex

Also, he is not depressed not depressed not depressed, he really does not have depression. His natural tendency is to stay hidden in the dark, he is more comfortable like that, but he knows that others around him need him to appear sometimes, so when he’s not hiding he’s doing work, and when he does hide it’s more like he can’t be bothered pretending anymore.

Trigger warning: suicidal ideation, as appeared in canon

He did exhibit something similar to suicidal tendencies in Weregeld

“It was a mistake,’ he whispered, still kneeling with the Wolf King cradled close to his chest. ‘We were a mistake, brother, I know that now. I see it for myself, in my own blundering. I see it in the eyes of the mistakes I created, just as surely as the Emperor sees it in ours. There is no sense of guilt, only good intentions gone bad.”

Weregeld, Chapter 4

But this isn’t like the usual tendency of someone in great pain who is seeking an end to their suffering, he simply thought that primarchs are a mistake, so his existence as a primarch is wrong, and he should fix it by dying in battle.

His sudden change of mind was because he felt his duty has not ended so he can’t die yet.

TW over

Corax is a withdrawn man with a gothic aesthetic, and if he is truly mad he would not be bothered speak to anyone, but he’s not depressed and definitely not a literature bro.

2. Corax is a socialist, he is approachable, against class stratification, and promotes freedom

This is a bit more complicated to explain, but in Warhammer, human society hasn’t even reached the capitalism stage. All human worlds, no matter how good the living conditions, are still feudal societies with slavery. With that mind, there really can’t be any socialists.

And if we take a closer look, Corax is actually against slavers mistreating their slaves, the upper class wielding power without respecting each individual’s personal worth, and those who take pleasure in causing suffering. He is not against the idea and existence of class itself.

That much Corvus had understood, even if Manrus had spelled it out in no uncertain terms that such political imprisonment was immoral. To remove one’s enemies made sense to Corvus, especially if they could be turned to a more profitable endeavour. It was the condemnation of the families that Corvus had not fully understood. Again, he could perhaps justify the imprisonment of those related to the first agitators and demagogues, because there would be grounds to suspect a criminal’s beliefs might be shared by those around him. What stretched Corvus’s comprehension was the continued internment of those born and raised in the mines.

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 4

Corax can understand punishing dissenters and making them work in mines, but he thinks the prisoners’ descendants should not be responsible for the crimes of their ancestors.

If only it were that simple,’ said Corax. He had not worked out anything, simply remembered it. The Emperor had never attempted to create what Corax sought, and so there was no base of knowledge for him to recall. ‘That still leaves you with seventy-two different gene-strands to analyse.’ ‘A moment, please,’ said Orlandriaz, laying his hand on Corax’s arm as the primarch turned away. Corax glanced down in annoyance at the magos’s clutching fingers, noticing that the tech-priest’s fingernails looked to be made of a dull bronze. Realising his error, Nexin took his hand away and nodded his head in apology.

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 11

Corax has class consciousness; he values the individual worths of his subordinates, so he encourages free thinking and for people to voice their opinions, however not everyone can speak to him as casually as his sons.

The leaders of the Legion remnants assembled by Corax were a mix of line officers and sergeants for the most part, the odd lieutenant amongst them – warriors of higher rank tended to have been closer to their primarchs at the outset of the civil war. Seated around a long table brought into the grand hall for the assembly, they looked at the primarch with a mixture of hope, wariness and awe. He did not stand up, preferring not to overwhelm the delegates with his physical presence. For the same reason, he had not donned his armour but was dressed in a simple bodysuit of light grey beneath a long charcoal-coloured coat. Like the throne upon which he sat, the clothes had been made for him as a token of favour of Naima by Scaratoan craftsmen and women. It had been a long time, over two years Terran-standard, since he had worn much else other than his armour. He had wondered what it would be like, fearing that perhaps he would feel underdressed, but in fact it allowed him to think more like a civil leader than a general.

Ravenlord, Chapter 5

He opted for a plain appearance as to not imitate others so they could speak properly.

‘A thousand disparate pieces, each of purpose and value, brought together under the control of a single mind,’ said Corax. ‘We shall be the same. A machine, an organism. Of many parts working separately, but invisibly, silently bound by common purpose and thought. I do not ask you to swear loyalty to me, for there is no greater oath you have sworn than by your deeds in the name of the Emperor. I do not ask you to become Raven Guard, for the blood of other fathers and the customs of other worlds have shaped you. You are each what you are, individual – but together, indivisible, we will be even greater.’

Ravenlord, Chapter 5

3. Corax is a naive baby that got manipulated by the evil tyrannical Emperor

The variant of this I see more on Tumblr is that Corax is a hypocrite who, despite his hatred for tyrants, is still loyal to the Emperor, the biggest tyrant of them all, but I have seen both. While it’s not completely the same, some of the points here also address the issue on how Corax views the Emperor and why he remains loyal.

This is a very important point; Corax is not a naive baby, he is a primarch that grew up on a prison world. While most of his foster parents are political prisoners, it’s still a grim prison world, with prison guards that abuse the prisoners and gangs. While Corax was protected by his foster parents and friends, he still grew up surrounded by death.

Moritat-Prime Kaedes Nex A dark figure of gruesome repute amongst the tightly-knit survivors of Deliverance, Kaedes is seen as an ill-omen by his brothers. On Kiavahr in his youth he was known as the Blood Crow, an infamous murderer condemned to rot on the moon-prison. There he remained, until Corvus Corax offered him freedom and a pardon if he fought alongside the other rebels and limited his targets to those chosen by his new master. After enduring a painful late transformation to a Space Marine, it was only by the continued favour shown to him by Corax that he remained within the ranks of the Raven Guard, with few of his brothers willing to tolerate his macabre obsession with the hunt. Yet, in the grim shadow-wars fought by the Raven Guard in furtherance of the Emperor's grand plan, his murder-honed skills were employed with grim regularity. When the Raven Guard came to Isstvan V, Kaedes came with them, vanishing into the wastes to stalk the Traitors on his own terms. Nothing is recorded of his role in either the retreat from the massacre or the days that followed, and some maintain that not all of the Traitor craft to later leave Isstvan V carried only the followers of Horus, that Kaedes continued his private war in the shadows of the Horus Heresy.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermination, p.280

Kaedes went to prison for murder as a youth, and later, with Corax’s favour, became part of the Moritat, a unit that does the dirty work behind the scenes.

Corvus was half as tall again as the youths around him, and broader by far, but of all those who had met the guerrilla leader Nathian showed almost no fear. The prisoner’s stare matched Corax’s in its intensity. ‘That’s the boon I bring, ain’t it?’ said Nathian. ‘They think I can be trusted. I run the largest smuggling ring on the wing. A few bribes and words here and there will make it a lot easier for you to be moving stuff around, I’d warrant. And I’m no shirker in a fight. I’m dishonest, but I give you my word, for what it’s worth. I want out of this stinking hole as much as any of this lot.’ ‘He knows too much already – a curse on him and his prying,’ said Agapito. ‘Let’s be rid of him. We’ll put the body in the incinerators next shift.’ Nathian sneered, but did not look afraid. ‘No,’ said Corvus. He looked at Nathian closely, and saw the feral danger behind his eyes. A multiple-killer, aged only thirteen. It was not pleasant, but what Corvus had planned would sometimes need men of cold disposition, not just courage. ‘I can use him. Yes, Nathian – I accept your oath. And make no mistake, I will hold you to it.'

Ravenlord, Chapter 14

Nathian became a gang leader at age 13, and followed Corax during the uprising in Deliverance. Corax knew his moral character was not good, but he admires his ability and wants give him guidance, so he accepted him despite complaints from others.

And some voices, disturbing, demented voices that hovered on the edge of memory. He could not recall what they had said, but was left with an uneasy feeling of defiance and distrust.

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 2

Corax actually had high psychic potential, but he doesn’t delve into it or use it on purpose. In Deliverance Lost, the forces of Chaos actually noticed him before he left the incubation pod, and whispered to him, but he ignore it completely.

‘I speak not of you, but the Emperor. What makes his vision of the galaxy any purer than that of Horus, or yours, or the Mechanicum’s? You may have been the weapon the Emperor used against a galaxy of foes, but it was his power that wielded you, unleashed your Legion against those that opposed him.’ Again Corax was forced to think for a moment, to formulate his reply so that a knot of instinct and simple knowing could be unravelled into something more reasoned. ‘The Emperor is all the things he wishes to be. He has been both tyrannical and compassionate, merciless and merciful. But I have seen into him, and I have touched minds with him in a way no other can. And at the core of what others see is a man of humility and wisdom and learning. He is a man driven by the rational. A tyrant craves domination, but the Emperor carries his power like a burden, the responsibility for all of humanity on his shoulders. He is everything he must be, not out of desire, but from duty and necessity.’

Soulforge, Chapter 4

Corax’s retort against the opinion that the Emperor is a tyrant. He is not denying that the Emperor uses some questionable methods and insisting that he is a faultless saint, but rather stating that the Emperor is both cruel and merciful, but he does not desire to rule over everything, but rather view it as a duty.

Corax does not view the Emperor as a tyrant, as he believes the Emperor‘s methods are a means to an end. In his axioms, he defined tyranny as “force without justice”. In a similar vein to his view on class, he is not against the existence of authoritarian rulers itself but rather the abuse of this power to oppress their people. The setting must be considered when interpreting Corax’s political views. There is no hypocrisy in his loyalty to the Emperor because by his definition the Emperor is not a tyrant.

In yet another convergence of great events, it was in the immediate aftermath of the liberation of the prison moon Lycaeus and the opening salvoes of the atomic bombardment of Kiavahr that the Emperor arrived to reclaim his lost son. Unlike events surrounding so many other such meetings however, the Emperor came alone, and the next day left alone. While it is known that the Master of Mankind and the XIX Primarch spoke for long hours, what passed between them remains a matter of conjecture.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermination, p.133

The Emperor taught Corax to nuke Kiavahr after his arrival on Deliverance, and taught him that sacrifice is necessary in order to achieve his ideals.

In Deliverance Lost, the Emperor arrived after the atomic charges have been dropped in Kiavahr. Corax himself was reluctant to drop the bombs, out of consideration for the innocents, but after input from his friends and mentors, he gave the order in the end. Regardless of the order of events, and who prompted him to drop the atomic charges, this shows that Corax is far from innocent and naive.

He had been too focused on rebuilding the Legion and then striking back at Horus to quell the chattering, but now it was time to make certain truths known. Truths that had been revealed to him directly by the Emperor; truths that even now were hinted at in the recesses of his mind where the last memories the Emperor had passed to Corax still dwelt, like shadows at the bottom of a gorge. He trusted Agapito, and had done so since they had first stood together so many decades ago. Though hot-headed of late, he needed to know the nature of the foes they were now facing; all of the Raven Guard deserved that after suffering so much at their hands. ‘There are creatures that live within the warp,’ said Corax. Agapito nodded in understanding and was about to reply but the primarch cut him off. ‘Things not just in the warp but of the warp. The creatures that can consume a ship if its Geller fields fail. The creatures that the Navigators call the empyrean predators, and the Emperor calls daemons.’ Agapito muttered with distaste while a cruel laugh erupted from Vangellin. The other tech-priests listened with interest, seemingly detached from concern. ‘Yes, daemons,’ said Corax. ‘Beings not of flesh but of the stuff of the warp itself.’

Soulforge, Chapter 4

In Soulforge, The Emperor told Corax about the matter of the warp himself.

Also I just needed to say, most of Corax’s appearances are written by Gav Thorpe, but his primarch novel is written by Guy Haley, who made Corax an idealist with weak grip on reality to serve as a foil for Curze’s primarch novel also written by him. This is very different to how Gav writes him, so this book is a bad reference, due to the discrepancies. Of course there are also discrepancies in the parts of the story written by Gav, and I will mention those when they come.

For anyone who would like to know more about Corax, I strongly recommend you start on Deliverance Lost and not his primarch novel, due to the reasons outlined above. In fact, I would recommend looking at all the HH period novels and short stories first and the primarch novel last, if you are going to read it at all.

As mentioned above, Corax understands the dark side of human nature and of the Imperium. Corax knows that in order for the Emperor to protect more people he must do some things that aren’t very freedom and equality. There is always casualties in war, and Corax is against pointlessly throwing away the lives of soldiers, his goal been to achieve victory while minimising losses.

Sacrificing a small fraction of people to achieve victory is the baseline logic of Warhammer, you can’t say that others can do it but Corax isn’t allowed to because he likes peace and freedom.

Basically, everyone is a war criminal. Corax just has more regard for human life than some other war criminals in this franchise.

There’s also a bit of retconning in terms of Corax and the Emperor written by Gav. In the 40k Carcharadon novels, they mentioned that the Emperor gave Corax an artefact called the Void Glass, which can reveal everyone’s true forms. The Void Glass was first given to Corax by the Emperor, and then Corax gave it to the founder of the Carcharodon chapter for keeping.

Tangata Manu shook his head. 'I know the truth now. The Void Father gave the Glass into the keeping of the Forgotten One to take into the Void and keep it there. It was given to us to be lost, not used!’ The Librarian stared at the Void Glass but he said no words.

Carcharodons - Silent Hunters

This conflicts with the original story written by Gav, where Corax is shaken upon learning about his true nature born of the warp, but in essence still hints that Corax knew some secrets of the Emperor and primarch pretty early on, and shows that the Emperor trust him absolutely and believes he is reliable.

With the benefit of hindsight, some have claimed that the Emperor spoke to Corax of things men, even some other Primarchs, were not yet ready to hear; of the truth of those powers that seethe within the Warp and the darkness soon to come.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermination, p.133

Corax understands the Emperor’s thoughts, he agrees with the Emperor’s vision and is willing to give up everything for it.

4. Corax hates Curze, and looks down on him

This point came from Curze’s primarch novel, where he said he thinks all brothers hate him, so Corax must hate him too. But from the description, Corax was shocked at seeing him killing his sons but didn’t really make a comment, however due to Curze’s habitual defensiveness, he interpreted this as Corax humiliating him publicly.

'Brother,' said Corax. 'I come to you without violent intent, but please, explain to me what is going on in this city. His voice was soft like the Night Haunter's, though not as sibilant, and with a more measured tone. Sevatar refused to let it beguile him. The threat Corax made was clear enough.

Corax broke the silence first. 'What is the meaning of this, my brother?' he said, gesturing metre-long claws at the mess of the slain. 'What happened to your warriors?' Unable to help himself, the Night Haunter snarled. He caught it and turned it into a mocking smile, but not before all present had seen his anger. He was a predator challenged by something just as dangerous. For a moment, Konrad Curze exhibited weakness. 'I happened to them, said Curze evenly. Corax looked over the ruined flesh in the room in disbelief. 'What have you done?' Curze smiled blackly. 'An internal dispute, Lord Corax, he said airily. 'A Legion matter, that I have resolved. You must understand, there are many criminals in your Legion also. You have your ways of dealing with those who stray too far from the bounds of good conduct.’ He poked a blade of Mercy through the shattered eye lens of a helm and held it up for Corax to see. ‘This is mine.’ Corax's eyes lingered on the blood staining Curze's chin. ’Then perhaps you could tell me why you are bombarding this already compliant sector?'

Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter, Chapter 6

So here Curze realised some of his sons are bad and deviated from his idealogies. In order to cover up this crime, he decided to bombard a planet that is already compliant. Corax of course cannot accept this as it is a waste of the Imperium’s resources.

'I do not think anything about you,' said Corax. 'Other than the disgust I feel for your methods. Curze shrugged. 'You may join the line of all the others who feel the same. I don't care. I am exactly as the Emperor intended me to be. Are you really any better than I, Corax shadow-skulker? The Eighth are open in our murders. The Nineteenth are assassins. We are all killers. We are brothers in method as well as in blood.’ 'Our way of war is clean, said Corax. Sevatar found his voice annoyingly lugubrious. Such misery. They said he was raised in a prison, and that accounted for his saturnine demeanour. Sevatar wanted to hurl him into the deeps of Nostramo's hives, so he might better learn what lawlessness was. The primarchs were preening fools, self-obsessed, unable to see the truth for their own, aggrandised woes. Curze was lonely in being true to himself. He was a fiend, but at least he was honest. 'No war is clean. All of them come with a price,‘ Curze continued. 'Some are more obvious than others, that is all, and the price must always be paid.’ Curze sighed, shrinking into himself, bored. 'War's reckoning awaits you. Do you wish to know the cost?' Corax's black, unreadable eyes rested on Curze for several seconds. 'I will return to my ship. Stop this bombardment. The conquest is falling behind schedule. We risk turning the population further from the Emperor's light.’

Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter, Chapter 6

Still from Curze’s primarch novel, and from Sevatar’s biased “only Curze is perfect and always correct” perspective. Corax did not refute that he is a tool of the Emperor, and has the same awareness of the fact as Curze, however Curze’s feelings on this matter are more pointed. Curze minds that his father sees him as a tool, but Corax does not.

And also there’s a major problem here, in that there’s a discrepancy in Corax’s characterisation written by Guy Haley. He wrote that Corax said his wars are clean, but this contradicts every other novel about Corax. As mentioned previously, he does have his own specialised units and methods for doing the dirty work, and of course he understands that no war is clean, and that Curze’s fear tactics are a necessity, but should not be overused. Unless of course by “clean” they meant the battlefield is cleaned well afterwards.

So if we look at this passage carefully, what happened is Corax discovered Curze is doing something in secret, so he came to investigate, and realised Curze was killing a bunch of his sons. He didn’t say you can’t do that, but just asked him why, and also I wouldn’t do that if that was me. And to Curze it’s, you’re humiliating me.

Corax’s opinion of Curze was overall pretty positive pre-Heresy. He doesn’t like it when his legion is compared to the Nigh Lords, but it’s the behaviour not the person. No one likes it when people keep comparing you to someone else. Corax doesn’t like the image of “Night Haunter”, but he has nothing against Curze.

The general interpretation of what “Night Haunter” means to Curze in the CN fandom space is quite different to here, due to language structure, naming conventions and probably translation as well.

One characteristic of Corax is that he doesn’t have subjective opinions of individual people, he forms opinions on people based on their behaviour and then react accordingly. Corax dislikes Perturabo, because he saw how Perturabo has little regard for lives lost during his wars; Corax dislikes Horus, because he saw how there is hidden arrogance in Horus’ friendly demeanour, and how he was making things difficult on purpose for Corax’s subordinates. But Corax didn’t have such a reason to dislike Curze. Curze may be difficult to get along with, but he does everything for the Imperium, so to Corax he is a brother, just one with a different style who can be temperamental at times.

EX TENEBRIS Ex Tenebris is a masterwork bolter fitted with an incredibly sophisticated telescopic scope system. Chapter legend has it that the weapon was forged by Corax himself, as a gift for his wayward brother, the Night Haunter. But the Horus Heresy turned the two Primarchs’ Legions against one another, and Ex Tenebris was instead borne into battle by heroes of the Raven Guard.

Raven Guard Codex 8th edition, p. 58

Corax is not the type of person who would actively try and form close relationships with people. He prefers to act alone, and there is usually a clear purpose for his actions. Even for Guilliman whom he does like, it’s only on the level that he has a good impression of him and wants to learn about administration from him. So Corax actually wanting to give a gift to Curze can be interpreted as having a decent opinion of him.

People like saying that Corax likes comparing himself to Curze, but Curze actually does that more, and Corax doesn’t just compare himself to Curze, he also thought about his similarities to Angron. In his eyes they are all primarchs, and whatever flaws the traitor primarchs had he must have too, and that’s what concerned him.

Each of those parts that they put into me, I gave to each of you,’ the Emperor had said. Corax had asked who had put what into the Emperor but he had shaken his head and refused to answer, telling Corax that it was not important anymore. Reunited with his primarchs, he would be whole once again. The Raven Guard’s leader wondered what part of the Emperor had been put into a beast like Angron. He shuddered to think what Horus had promised the World Eater in return for his betrayal of the Emperor. Conquest, no doubt, and glory in battle. Angron had craved these things more than any other primarch, though Corax and his brothers had all been created with a fierce military pride. What else, Corax thought. What do you gain from this rebellion against the Emperor?

Raven’s Flight

‘We have been touched by forces beyond the Emperor’s own design – you know this, brother, as well as I do. No good comes from that which in evil is born, no matter the purpose or cause. I look at Curze and see myself. Do you find Angron in your reflection? How thin is the veneer that keeps us loyal, keeps us civilised? But for chance, it seems, any of us might now have crossed that line. Does the line even exist, or do we simply draw it in front of us as suits our own vanity?’

Weregeld

‘He made us what we are, but I cannot divine his purpose any more,’ said Corax. ‘Do you think we have failed?’ ‘We conquered the galaxy in his name, brother. We brought humanity into the light from the darkness of Old Night. He created us for that purpose and no other.’ ‘The Emperor also created Horus and made him Warmaster,’ countered Corax, unsettled by Dorn’s words. ‘He brought the likes of the Night Haunter into his plans.’ ‘What else could he have done?’ said Dorn. ‘Curze is one of us, though perhaps a victim of circumstances none of us can even imagine. I know better than anyone exactly what he is capable of.’ Corax nodded grimly. ‘The likes of Curze and Angron were broken from the start. You know the ultimate sanction open to the Emperor. He could have–’ Dorn raised a hand before he could finish. ‘I find your doubts disturbing, brother.’ The wrinkles on his forehead deepened further in annoyance as he gazed across the shuttle port, his fists clenched by his sides. ‘It is still the Emperor’s will that mankind become the masters of the galaxy.’

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 7

This part is when Corax and Dorn discuss their brothers in Deliverance Lost. On the surface Dorn seem quite calm, and Corax is very aggressive calling Curze and Angron broken, but that’s because this is after the drop site massacre, and while Dorn knows what they did at Isstvan V, he wasn’t there to witness it.

From Corax’s perspective, the primarchs are tools created by the Emperor, and if a tool rebelled against its master then it’s a failed work, he didn’t meet the Emperor’s expectations so he’s also pretty much failed. So his main point isn’t actually hating Curze or Angron personally, but rather than he should’ve recognised the problem earlier and dealt with it.

5. The original Terran Raven Guards does not obey Corax; he treats them poorly, and discard of them when they are no longer useful

This is a more complicated problem, and we first need to address the story before.

Before Corax’s return, the XIXth legion was managed by Horus. Horus managed the legion for 140 years, but there’s only around 80 years between Corax’s return and the Heresy, so for those legionaries who have served longer than their primarch, it’s expected that they would have different opinions about Corax’s orders. Not just on the issue on experience, they may be older than their gene-father in age.

With that in mind, while there seems to be come conflict between Corax and many Terran Raven Guards, with him sending them away to distant sectors, but there is no novel actually saying Corax hated them and left them to their own devices, instead he gave them enough supplies and trust to let them complete their missions.

Corax knelt beside the body of a Raven Guard, his chestplate rent open, his ribcage splayed. His armour bore the markings of a veteran, one of those that had come from Terra and made Deliverance his new home.

Raven’s Flight

There isn’t a large population on Deliverance for recruitment, so even by the point of the Heresy, most Raven Guards are still Terran recruits. And by this point there isn’t such a large rift between the Terran-born and Deliverance-born; the Terrans see Deliverance as a second home.

The main issue with Corax’s treatment of Terran Raven Guards is at the Battle of Gate Forty-Two. Here Horus was clearly trying to suppress Corax’s influence, because Corax was the only primarch who disliked him before the heresy. Perturabo also took this opportunity to fan the flames, and in the end Russ told Corax he should listen to the Warmaster, as the Warmaster represents the Emperor.

In answer, Perturabo accused Corax of seeking to avoid battle, a crime verging on dereliction for a Primarch of the Legiones Astartes. The two very nearly came to blows, with only the intervention of Leman Russ staying bloodshed. The Wolf King counselled Corax to heed the words of the Primarch who the Emperor had set above his brothers. Russ urged Corax to smother his bitterness, but not to extinguish it, and from that guttering flame kindle the fire to carry the battle through. Taking his leave of the council, Corax mustered the Raven Guard before Gate Forty-Two. Knowing their particular demeanour would carry them forward, Corax assigned many of his Terran-dominated companies to the van, in particular those whose captains appeared the most willing to play their part in the Warmaster’s plan.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermimation, p. 135

Corax didn’t want to waste the lives of his warriors in a frontal charge, but he still accepted the views of those Terrans who are used to being under Horus’s command, and he charged at the front with them.

The assault that followed was hailed as the Legion’s darkest hour, a grim honour that, tragically, would be displaced just a few years later at Isstvan V. At the height of the battle, the assault companies decimated and the attack faltering in the face of overwhelming fire, Corax himself led the forlorn hope, his battle cry firing the Legion to such efforts that the breach was carried and Gate Forty-Two taken. The honour of slaying the Unsighted Kings was claimed by Horus as Warmaster and at the moment of their execution, the xenos’ hold over the population was dispelled. The Akum-Sothos Cluster was delivered and the Warmaster’s prize was reclaimed. The cost was terrible however, for not only had countless millions of hosts been crippled in mind and body, but thousands of Raven Guard, the bulk of them Terran-born, had given their lives before the shattered walls. Though the Battle of Gate Forty-Two was counted a victory by (and indeed for) the Warmaster, its effects were far reaching. The Legion’s numbers were sorely depleted, leaving only 80,000 Legionaries under the Primarch’s command and making it the smallest of the Legiones Astartes. Corax removed himself and his Legion from his brother’s command, swearing bitterly never to serve alongside the Warmaster again.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermimation, p. 135

Horus commanded Corax to sacrifice his sons at the front and then stole the kill, and even if some Terran Raven Guards did gave their lives willingly, Corax was greatly pained by this, and he certainly did not sending them to their deaths on purpose. Corax doesn’t like certain slaver behaviours seen on some Terran Raven Guards, usually commanders, but normal Raven Guards to him are all good warriors, and should not die in vain.

One last consequence of the Battle of Gate Forty-Two lingers still. In its aftermath, those line officers who, before the coming of the Primarch, had served for so long under Horus’ command were gone, and so the Warmaster was able to exert little in the way of influence over the Raven Lord’s Legion. Many of these Terrans had been inducted into the warrior lodges, and with their deaths these unseen bodies all but vanished from the Raven Guard. It has been claimed by his detractors that in assigning the Terranborn Legionaries to the assault wave that would suffer the greatest losses, Corax did his Legion a service, consolidating his power and paving the way for a future more in line with his own vision. As a result, the Legion was largely spared the wave of insurrection that was transmitted through so many of the Legions by the hidden auspices of the lodges.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermimation, p. 135

From another perspective, even though there seems to be so much conflict between Corax and Terran Raven Guards, there weren’t any Raven Guards that chose to defect to Horus during the Heresy. Most Terran Raven Guards, upon hearing the news, chose wither to return and defend Terra, or sought revenge from traitors because they thought their primarch is dead. If Corax was really so cold-blooded, then most of the Terran Raven Guards would’ve chosen to follow Horus during the Heresy. The Raven Guards are assertive and knew who was good to them, so even the Ashen Claws, who were on very bad terms with him, chose to go renegade instead of following Horus.

After addressing the issue of Corax‘s treatment of Terran Raven Guards, I will address the idea that, because Corax was too nice to his sons, he lacks authority and cannot manage them.

Firstly, Corax returned very late, and by the time he has returned, the XIXth legion already has a terrible reputation, with problems in many areas. Corax needed to manage his legion in the Great Crusade and trying to fix all of the problems of his Raven Guards. Under this condition, the fact that there wasn’t a rebellion within the legion during the heresy is a pretty remarkable achievement. Some people will use Sanguinius as a rebuttal against this, but Sanguinius is supposed to have outstanding charisma. And if you are using Sanguinius as the standard for legion management, then any legion where there is anyone not listening to the primarch also fails, not just Corax.

Secondly, Corax is a primarch that values the individuality of his subordinates and respects their personalities. He wants every warrior to have self awareness and independent thought, that way in the absence of a leader they can quickly regroup and continue the battle. A feature of the Raven Guards is that they can quickly split up, fight in groups, and then regroup at a key moment, still in sync. So Corax would listen to the thoughts and ideas of all his subordinates, then give them an overall direction.

‘And what is strength?’ ‘True strength comes from knowing one’s own value is dependent upon the value of others,’ said Arendi. It had been only a short time since he and the other survivors of the primarch’s guard had arrived, but already he showed signs of returning health. His face was filling out, eyes brighter, skin smoother. ‘It is recognising the bond between us all and acting together for the cause of all.’

‘Perhaps for the Raven Guard,’ said Damastor Kyil, an artificial lung wheezing as he drew in a breath. ‘Not all of us grew up in a prison, nor spent years fighting far from the command of our primarchs. You take that culture for granted, Lord Corax.’ ‘I do not,’ the primarch replied. ‘You will soon each have first-hand experience of the fighting I describe. And you will have close acquaintance with those that have been terrorised into submission. I demand no promise or oath beyond that you accompany us on our next attack and learn from the Raven Guard how to wage the war we must now fight. After that, you are free to go your own ways, to attempt to return to Terra or other home worlds as you choose, or to remain under my command.’

Ravenlord, Chapter 5

Corax teaching the followers at hand, from Ravenlord. Corax’s style has always been to lead the people into battle, giving them strength and knowledge in the process. When he is sure they can progress on their own, he will release his grip on them, and let them move forward on their own.

It’s the principles of “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.’, which is how he’s always educated his sons. So the more he trusts them, the more likely he will send them away. By 40k, the Raven Guards also use this method to manage the worlds they’ve liberated, leaving after ensuring that the people can defend themselves.

The precise means of liberation vary from world to world. If the corruption is centralised, the Darkened Blades employ the lightning assaults common to the Adeptus Astartes, mustering overwhelming power against the unready foe. More often the oppression is endemic, however, and must be confronted on a continental or even planetary scale. In such cases, the 6th Company divide into subformations and mount fast-moving guerrilla actions to make optimal use of their limited numbers. Meanwhile, local resistance forces are trained in those aspects of the shadow arts that any Imperial citizen can grasp, so that they might support the Raven Guard operation and contribute to their own deliverance. The Raven Guard cannot remain on a world forever, and their desire is to leave a liberated populace who can look to their own defence.

Raven Guard Codex 8th edition, 6th Company “The Darkened Blades”, p. 17

#warhammer 40k #wh40k #warhammer 30k #long post #metafiction #translation #horus heresy #corvus corax #raven guard #primarch #warhammer 40k lore

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frost-queen · 1 year ago

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The moment I knew // part 10 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)

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Summary: A confession has been made. Will you take the offer and finally live your happily ever after? | final chapter [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3& part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9]

It means I love you.

Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest. Overpowering your thoughts as you couldn’t think anymore. You weren’t sure how you were looking at him. In shock? Panicking? Glowing? Flustered? Gawking? Seemingly frozen in time as you couldn’t move. – “Miss Y/n.” – Tewkesbury said taking your hand as it startled you awake. – “I cannot bear it any longer.” – he started joining his other hand on yours.

“Every moment apart from you, is excruciating. A pain I no longer wish to bear. I have been a fool, toying around but I am done playing. I am done with my boy-ish attitude.” – he confessed as you curled up a flustered smile. Feeling a bit sheepishly, looking around if anyone was taking noticed of it as well. His hands on yours. A scandalous act in public. Behind him you saw the dancers performing graceful sequences. A dance of tug and war. Pulling and pushing. Nearing and distancing the attraction.

Tewkesbury cleared his throat, bouncing on his feet nervously. – “Miss Y/n… I have a question I have been meaning to ask ever since I became serious about you.” – he started pouring his heart out. You chuckled softly. – “As long as it isn’t a proposal.” – you teased jokingly. You kept chuckling till you noticed Tewkesbury looking saddened back at you. Making it clear in his eyes, it was in fact like that.

You stopped chuckling becoming aware of it. – “Dear lord is it?” – you let out with wide eyes. Tewkesbury looked away with a shy smile. – “Well I am not going to say it now.” – he answered. – “The moment’s ruined miss Y/n.” – he scratched his hair looking nervously away. You pulled your hands back, up to your mouth as you gasped loud. – “Is it a proposal?” – you asked lowering your hands.

“It is isn’t it?” – you called out making Tewkesbury chuckle a bit at your innocence. – “The moment’s gone miss Y/n.” – Tewkesbury said taking a small step back, looking at the ground. – “No!” – you blurted out, startling Tewkesbury. – “No, no, no, no wait!” – you shouted desperately with your hands. – “Wait.” – you spoke making Tewkesbury supress a laugh at how hard you were trying to fix this.

You turned around, taking a few paces away from him. – “Begin once more.” – you called out. – “Miss Y/n I am not…” – he began as you cut him off. – “Begin once more!” – shouting at him as you turned back to him. – “Miss Y/n I’m not just going to begin again.” – he answered feeling a bit foolish. – “You simply take my hands again, you say that you have a question to ask me and I keep my foolish mouth shut!” – you let out making Tewkesbury laugh. – “Please..” – you begged.

“Miss Y/n I…” – Tewkesbury started to laugh again, knowing how silly this was. Too played out and orchestrated. – “Fine!” – you said loudly with determination. – “Then I shall ask you a question.” - you continued approaching him. – “My lord…” – you said looking down at his hands. Reaching for it, you took it. – “I’ve been a girl with her heads in the clouds, but you kept me grounded. My heart only yearns for you. It is yours to have and hold. I love you Tewkesbury. Will you make me your wife?” – you asked with a sweet smile.

Tewkesbury’s eyes widened. – “You love me too?” – he replied needing to be sure his hearing wasn’t deceiving him. You shyly nodded, twirling your hips a bit around. Tewkesbury’s eyes lit up, smiling purely out of excitement at you. He threw his arms around you, hugging you tight. – “You’ll marry me.” – he told you, squeezing you tighter in his embrace. He then pulled away, taking your hands, to leave a kiss on your knuckles.

Flustered you waved yourself some cool. Suddenly it felt so real till your eyes widened. – “Dear lord my brothers.” – you gasped out. Tewkesbury laughing at that. – “You fear they might skin me alive for proposing?” – he joked out. Seeing the nervous chuckle from you made him gulp. – “I’m sure it will be alright.” – you patted him on the hand, hoping you were right.

“That didn’t sound reassuring.” – Tewkesbury yelped out, breaking out a sweat. He could already imagine your brothers or the Duke stabbing him for proposing to their beloved sister or in law. Tewkesbury felt a fantom stab in this stomach making him winch. – “They aren’t that bad. It should be I who needs to be terrified of your grandmama. Her look alone will turn me to stone.” – you said with a shiver.

Tewkesbury and you shared a look before bursting out in laughter. Tewkesbury offered you his arm. – “Shall we?” – he asked as you accepted his arm. – “We shall, soon to be husband.” – you teased him. Tewkesbury placed his hand against his chest, gasping dramatically at how adorable he found that.

Tewkesbury removed your hand from his arm, holding it in his hand instead as you had found your way back inside. It wasn’t that hard to spot your siblings. He tugged gently on you, pulling you along with him towards them. Anthony and Benedict were in a deep conversation. Francesca beside them with a drink in her hand. She was the first one to notice you. – “I think we’ve found our lost sheep.” – she said with a smile. It made your brothers turn their heads at you. Benedict’s gaze went down, seeing your hand in Tewkesbury’s.

“He’s holding her hand.” – he said sweaty. – “What?” – Anthony replied looking as well. – “They are holding hands.” – Benedict blurted out stunned. Francesca clapped proudly as you neared. – “Sister!” – Anthony hissed out grabbing you by the shoulder. Benedict grabbed Francesca’s drink needing to cool himself. – “I warned you from the beginning it would be my soul purpose to marry him.” – you told your brother.

“What are you talking about?” – Anthony blinked overwhelmed with many emotions. You smiled, patting your brother against his cheek. – “You…” – Anthony said baffled, then looking at Tewkesbury with a point. – “You.” – he repeated as Tewkesbury nodded his head just a tat too amusingly. Benedict nearly fainted as Francesca had to grab him.

Anthony shoved you a bit aside to get to Tewkesbury. – “You asked my sister to marry her without consulting us first!” – Antony called out trying to keep his temper down. – “Actually my lord, she asked me.” – Tewkesbury answered giving Benedict another heart attack. He had just recovered as his knees became weak again. Francesca tried to hold him up right, fanning him. Anthony turned to you as you gave him one of your innocently sweet smiles.

He pointed fiercely at you, trying so hard to be angry at you, but that smile you flashed at him was doing it’s work. – “I’m proud of you sister.” – Francesca said. You curtsied to her. – “Don’t encourage this.” – Anthony said rubbing his forehead feeling it had become sweaty. Mama and Colin returned. – “What happened to him?” – Colin asked gesturing at Benedict. – “My little sister…” – Benedict sobbed out. It made Anthony roll his eyes dramatically at him. – “Oh please, pull yourself together.” – he said between a clenched jaw, pulling him up straight. Dusting his vest a bit off.

“Y/n and Tewkesbury are engaged.” – Francesca informed Colin and mama. – “What?” – Colin shouted a tat too loud, drawing the attention of almost the entire ton. Seeing everyone was focused on him, he cleared his throat. – “Carry on.” – he said waving them away.

The ton proceeded to do what they had been doing before, paying no attention anymore to them. – “What?” – Colin repeated in a lower tone, closer to you. – “Well this is a surprise.” – mama said touching her stomach nervously. – “Do not worry mama, I’ll have him ask me again properly.” – you assured her with a wink. – “Well he better.” – mama answered waving her handkerchief playfully at him. Tewkesbury excused himself with you from your family.

“Where are we going?” – you asked curious. Tewkesbury chuckled nervously as your eyes fell upon his grandmother sitting at a table. – “Dear lord no!” – you blurted out, pulling hard at his arm, coming to a stop. – “It will be alright.” – Tewkesbury reassure you. – “She’ll eat me alive.” – you told him, not wanting to be introduced as his soon to be wife now. – “She already ate diner Y/n.” – he joked. – “This isn’t funny.” – you gave him a slap against his shoulder.

“You want to throw a scandal at the ton?” – you whispered to him anxiously. He placed his hands on your shoulder. – “It will be alright, she won’t cause a scene in public. It is bad for her reputation.” – he responded with a warm smile. Taking a deep breath, you weren’t sure about this, but you couldn’t avoid her forever.

Tewkesbury took your hand, placing it on his arm as he guided you towards her. He cleared his throat near her. – “Tewkesbury?” – his grandmother said looking questionable at him. She then gave you a glare as it made you gulp soft. – “Grandmother.” – he started placing his hand on yours on his arm. – “You’ve met miss Y/n Bridgerton before.” – he went on with shaking legs. – “Yes, the girl you’ve stolen her dance card.” – she recalled making Tewkesbury chuckle nervously.

You gave Tewkesbury a little nudge for encouragement. – “Yes, well.” – he began trying to find a way out of his words. – “Well out with it boy!” – she called out impatient at the lack of information he was giving her. – “I am to marry her.” – he popped out. – “What?” – his grandmother spoke setting her hands on the table as she was about to rise from her seat. Tewkesbury took a save step back, not sure what she would to next.

His grandmother than laughed loud. – “I am to marry her!” – Tewkesbury repeated more confident now. – “Laugh all you want, there is nothing you can do about it. I will marry her. The estate will be mine, so be mindful I don’t see you out grandmama.” – Tewkesbury spoke with seriousness. His grandmother stopped laughing. – “You wouldn’t…” – she replied.

“Watch me.” – he answered as you took a hold of his upper arm. A calm gesture to him to not loose himself in emotions. His grandmother stood up straight. – “How dare you threaten me like that. If it wasn’t for me you’d be a waste. Was it not I who had picked you up after the death of your parents!” – she called out. You could tell Tewkesbury was getting emotional. – “That is enough!” – you made clear silencing her.

“You will always have a home with us if you wish, but you do not disrespect the Viscount!” – your words made her swallow loud. You curtsied at her, not wanting to lose any more words to her. You pulled Tewkesbury with you away from his grandmother. You brought him to a secluded area rubbing your hand up his arm. – “Are you alright?” – you asked. – “I am now.” – he responded leaving a kiss against your cheek.

His touch flustered you, sweeping you up in the moment. You jumped at him, throwing your arms around him as you pressed your lips against his. Your feet found ground again as your lips retracted from his. – “Miss Y/n what a scandal.” – Tewkesbury teased goofily with a blush on his cheeks. – “Good thing I already am to marry you.” – you responded. Tewkesbury grabbed you to kiss you again.

Tewkesbury had proposed properly at your house. Sending a wave of emotions over your family once again. Benedict crying for he didn’t want to loose his younger sister yet. You reassured him you would always be close, visiting the house every day. Tewkesbury and you married by the end of the season. You moved into the estate with him.

His grandmother having settled in the manor up on the country side. It seemed your little counter response tasted bitter in her mouth. She didn’t like getting stepped on her toes. You send word to the girls you knew from your year away. Enlisting them as you had promised. Giving them a good house and a good household to work for. Your siblings would visit almost every day with the smallest thing wanting to share or just spend time with you for they couldn’t stay away. The dream of becoming a princess died out. For what is a princess, when one has a Viscount as Tewkesbury.

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