#that transition must of been rough though

[champagnemoon]

My cousin took internet screen time completely away from their kid after reading about the effects it has on developing brains and it’s been wild watching the change of behavior in real time now that he’s watching little bear on vhs and not like prank fight neon toy 1 hour unboxings

[gamesetattach]

Reps and Races

Jannik Sinner x F1 Academy Driver!Reader Gym crushes are the best crushes, especially when it's Jannik Sinner. Reader is his, too... on the low—he keeps up with her more than she might see... And it's somehow Oscar Piastri's loss In honor of the beginning of the 2025 Formula Season!!! Tried to make this non-F1 fan friendly as well, btw, so sorry if I over explained simple stuff or skimmed over niche things!

Your new, private gym in Monaco was exclusive, it came with this particular kind of hush, a haven for elite athletes and socialites who preferred to train away from prying eyes. No blaring music, no overcrowded machines—just the quiet hum of effort, the rhythmic clatter of weights meeting the floor, the occasional murmur of conversation between clients. A state of the art facility, it was designed to accommodate those who trained at the highest level—Formula 1 drivers, footballers, tennis players, the likes, even the occasional celebrity looking for discretion. It was where you had been coming every morning for weeks now, getting ready for your first F1 Academy race after transitioning away from rallying. Your routine at the tail-end of your off-season was precise, structured, and entirely focused—an essential discipline that came from years of preparing for the rough, unpredictable nature of rally stages.

You had been training here for weeks now, preparing for your first F1 Academy race after years spent wrangling cars through unpredictable terrain. The transition demanded flexibility, precision, an entirely different kind of endurance. Your mornings were spent sharpening your reflexes, reinforcing your core, strengthening the muscles that would keep you steady through high-speed corners. It was just you and your trainer, day in day out, pushing a familiar routine, the constant burn in your muscles.

And then, one morning, he was there.

Jannik Sinner walked in with his trainer, Marco, his presence quiet but unmistakable. He was taller than you expected, lean and coiled with the kind of strength you couldn’t quite see, but could feel in that stalky way he would walk. You knew who he was immediately—of course you did—but you reminded yourself that you were too professional to stare. He wasn’t the only high-profile athlete to train here, and you weren’t about to gawk like some wide-eyed spectator.

He didn’t seem to notice you, not at first. He moved through his drills with the same focus you had seen on the court, that quiet intensity. In between his sets though, somewhere between reps and exhaustion, you’d catch a boyish smile or a carefree laugh he’d exchange with his trainer.

For a while, you existed in parallel, your sessions overlapping but never intersecting. You caught glimpses—him adjusting his grip on a resistance band, the sharp exhale as he pushed through a set, the way he raked his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair between reps. And every so often, you felt his gaze flicker over to you, just for a second, just long enough to make your skin prickle with awareness.

The first time you really felt his eyes on you came when you were braced to carry out your neck exercises—not your most flattering state. You had looped the resistance band around your head, pressing against the strain of the taut elastic held by your trainer, the familiar burn settling into your muscles. It was a critical part of your training, one that separated racing drivers from other athletes. The forces your body endured inside a car were unique, relentless. Without this work, your neck would collapse under the sheer weight of the G-forces pressing you into the seat.

Sinner, taking a quick water break, wiped sweat from his brow as he watched you from afar. He gently waved for the attention of his trainer, tipping his chin toward you. 

"È una pilota?” he murmured to Marco, keeping his voice low. A driver? 

Marco followed his gaze, nodding slightly. "Eh, direi di sì. Con quegli esercizi al collo." Must be. With those neck exercises.

Sinner hummed in thought, his attention lingering just a fraction longer before he returned to his set. The moment passed quickly, but the curiosity was left to settle.

---

The next time you saw him at the gym, it had to have been the fifth day in a row and, yet, it was the first time you actually spoke.

You were mid-set, muscles burning through the last reps of an exercise when Marco and your own trainer strayed near one another. Marco caught his eye, gave a slight nod of acknowledgment before striking up casual conversation, trainer to trainer—glady exchanging trade secrets, built on years of shared spaces and common understanding. They talked recovery plans, upcoming schedules, the way their athletes were adjusting to routine.

They conversed around you and above you as you finished up the exercise. You were still tied to your set, bound to the mat, committed to finishing the last controlled movements when Sinner, finishing his own set first, made his way over. You faltered a little as he came close. He wiped his face with his towel, slung it around his neck, and drifted closer, slipping into the conversation of your trainers with a natural ease.

“You’re training for a professional sport, yeah?” Marco asked, nodding his head toward you as he spoke to your trainer.

Your trainer nodded, casting a quick glance in your direction. “Yeah. She’s a racing driver.”

“That’s cool,” Sinner said, his voice more open now, engaged. “We had a feeling—saw you making the neck exercises.”

You exhaled through the last rep before finally sitting up to join the conversation, flexing your fingers slightly before glancing toward him. His gaze was neutral, not probing, and even a little… interested. 

“You know your stuff then,” you said, gesturing to your neck. “It’s a necessary evil... Are you a Formula fan?”

“Of course.” Marco cut in. “We are Italian.”

Jannik huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s true, I grew up watching Ferrari.” Then, a pause. “What series do you drive for?”

“F1 Academy,” you said, wiping the sweat from your palms. “Just made the switch from rallying, actually.”

That piqued his interest. “Rally?” His brows lifted slightly. “That’s a bit different, no?”

You shrugged, adjusting the wrap on your wrist. “Yeah, but racing is racing. Seemed like the right time to make a change.”

Your trainer nudged Sinner slightly. “She’s being modest,” they noted to him. “She’s had a great run in rally—Formula è dove girano i soldi.” Formula is where the money is.

Sinner’s gaze flickered back to you, you caught amusement and intrigue twinkling in his eyes. “I get that,” he said. “Still, that’s exciting for sure.”

You gave a small smile. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Just have to train extra hard.” Then, getting up to stand, you extended a hand. “I’m [Your Name], by the way.”

His grip was firm, steady. “Jannik,” he said, though there was clearly no need to introduce himself.

You smirked slightly, dropping his hand. “No, I know.” Then, with a small nod, you admitted, “I don’t follow tennis so much, but I’d have to be living under a rock not to know who you are.”

Jannik smiled at that, easy and genuine. 

The conversation carried on from there, shifting naturally between topics—training schedules, travel routines, the way Monaco had an uncanny way of crossing the paths of athletes from every odd discipline and feild. Marco and your trainer chimed in now and then, but they stuck to their own bubble; leaving you and Jannik to exchange necessary small talk, breaking the ice with the customary explanation of your careers and your lifestyles. 

Then, a gym staff member approached and broke the conversation that had narrowed to just the two of you, all smiles and hopeful energy. “Hi, sorry to interrupt—would you two mind taking a quick photo for the gym’s socials? Just a quick one.”

You hesitated and glanced at Jannik, letting him call the shots. He met your gaze, before shrugging. “Sure, why not?”

The camera clicked. A blink-and-you-miss-it moment, one that would live online long after you both moved on. You nodded to him and returned to your workout after that, taking the photo as a catalyst to break you away from your extended introductions. He did the same.

But when he left a little while later, bag slung over his shoulder, he hesitated just before the door. Just enough to glance back. You think he even waited for a second so that he could catch his eyes, lifting a hand in a casual wave.

---

It didn’t take long for the photo to spread. 

Apparently, that casual snapshot posted on the gym’s official Instagram was just the beginning. It was nothing overly produced or posed, you and Jannik standing side by side, post-workout, both a little flushed from exertion, him with a towel still draped around his neck and leaning down a bit in your direction, you with your arms relaxed at your sides. There was even a significant gap between you two—nothing awkward, just an appropriate distance for two, newly acquainted people. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, just a blip in athletes' routine.

But the internet saw anything but.

They took it and ran. 

First, it was just tennis and motorsport fans recognizing two known athletes in the same frame. Then, it came the speculation—what were you talking about? Did you know each other? Were you training together? Supporting him through his ban? Him through your off-season?

And then, somewhere along the way, the internet collectively decided something else: that you and Jannik Sinner—in this totally unassuming, nonchalant gym photo—looked incredibly good together.

It didn’t help that the lighting was oddly flattering, that your post-exercise glow read more like a happy flush than the result of hours of physical strain. Or that Jannik, with his usual mix of sharp angles and an effortlessly tousled look, had that kind of reserved presence that made the smallest of expressions—like the barely-there smirk he was wearing in the photo—feel more deliberate than they actually were.

The quote tweets were relentless:

okay but why is this kinda a sports power couple?? i don’t even care about tennis or f1 but i CARE about this Formula for the fastest kid alive: they have compatible energies. athletes in their prime, locked in, looking like they’d make an unfairly attractive athletic dynasty.

It was amusing at first. You weren’t oblivious to the way social media latched onto things, how narratives formed out of nothing but a well-timed post. You’d seen it happen with other athletes, random friendships turned into sagas, the media deciding truths before the actual people involved even had a chance to weigh in. Still, you weren’t expecting this level of fixation.

The first time you scrolled through the posts, you snorted, shaking your head as you locked your phone and tossed it onto your bed. Ridiculous. It wasn’t like the two of you had even had a proper conversation beyond the introductions and a bit of light small talk. A photo wasn’t anything more than a photo.

And yet…

You opened Instagram again later, only to find that you had now been tagged in dozens of edits. A few of them were standard—gym recaps, Mclaren social media content, highlight reels. Others, though, leaned full tilt into the narrative people were spinning.

Side-by-side comparisons of your best race shots and his championship moments. Clips of your training overlaid with his on-court movement, the parallels drawn with surgical precision. Some even went as far as to slow zoom on the way he had turned toward you in the photo, like there was some hidden meaning in it, some undeniable chemistry.

Even mainstream sports pages had picked up on it. One account with millions of followers captioned it:

“Two generational athletes, one frame. Tennis x Motorsport crossover we didn’t know we needed.”

Another read:

“Rally on Rally Crime”

You stared at your screen, exhaling slowly, fingers hovering over your phone. There was something surreal about seeing yourself plastered across social media like this, turned into a narrative you had no hand in shaping. It wasn’t overwhelming, not yet, but it was definitely… something. You were new to the attention, the fresh face of Mclaren’s F1 Academy seat—rally races had never amassed as much coverage as it deserved.

You flicked back to the original post, on the gym’s official account, scrolling through the comments again, rolling your eyes at some, laughing at others. It would pass, you told yourself. The internet was fickle. It would move on. But a part of you relished the commotion… that it was a connection to him.

So when you noticed something new, as you refreshed the post, you sat up a little straighter.

“Jannik liked!!”

Jannik had liked the post. He’d seen it. 

You locked your phone immediately, setting it face-down on your nightstand. Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it, be chill. 

You had no reason to believe he’d devolved into all the discussion and attention on the two of you like you had. He’d only interacted with the original post, and of course he had.

… Of course he had.

---

The gym felt the same as it always did—cool air humming from overhead vents, the scent of rubber mats and faint traces of sweat lingering in the quiet. No flashing cameras, no murmurs of speculation, no sign that the internet had turned one candid gym photo into an international talking point. It was just another training day.

At least, that’s what you had to tell yourself. But you couldn’t deny you had an easier time making it to the gym than usual, hopeful to have another run in…

You spotted Jannik almost immediately. He was mid-session, focused, his movements precise as he worked through a set. You caught the briefest flicker of recognition when he glanced up, a nod exchanged without hesitation before he refocused on his workout. His trainer gave you a wave as well. Completely normal. Casual. Just another morning at the gym.

Your own trainer, however, had other ideas.

As you passed by Jannik and Marco on your way to warm up, your trainer chuckled to themself before leaning in, voice just low enough for only you to hear. "Shouldn’t you kiss hello."

You shot them a glare before they could get any further. "Not a word."

They laughed but relented, though you could still feel their amusement in the way they shook their head as you both moved past. It should’ve been easy to shake off, you had media training for this. A stupid internet thing, a momentary obsession that would pass like everything else.

And yet, for the rest of your session, you couldn’t help but be even more aware of him than you had been before.

It wasn’t that you were watching him. Not exactly. But every time you caught sight of him in the mirror, your eyes lingered longer than necessary. The way his shirt clung to his back as he moved through a set, the way his fingers flexed between reps, the sharp lines of concentration in his face before the effort melted into something looser, more at ease. The way he’d lift his shirt to dab at sweat collecting on his nose, revealing the his torso for the briefest of seconds. It wasn’t just that he was attractive—you weren’t that easily distracted, you weren’t gawking—but there was something engaging about watching someone that dedicated, that in control of every motion… that’s how you rationalized it, at least.

And apparently, your "non-appraisal" wasn’t the most discreet.

“Eyes on your form. If you want to watch a tennis player, go to a match.” Your trainer quipped when you zoned out a beat too long before starting your next set.

You rolled your eyes, gripping the dumbbells tighter, determined to redirect your focus. It was nothing. Just heightened awareness. You were an athlete—you respected talent, recognized discipline when you saw it. That was all.

Jannik, on his end, wasn’t exactly faring much better. He wasn’t watching you—at least, not intentionally. But in the way athletes naturally kept tabs on their surroundings, his gaze found you more often than it should have. The way you braced before each set, the push of your muscles under strain, the quiet control in your movements. A few times, when he caught himself watching too long, he forced his focus back to his own workout, but it kept happening. And then, the mirror—

Your eyes met.

Brief, fleeting. Obvious.

You dropped your gaze first, pressing your lips together, exhaling lightly through your nose as you curled the dumbell. He played it off just as smooth, refocusing on his medicine ball. But the next time you risked a look, you thought you caught a smirk growing on his lips.

By the time Jannik finished his session, you were still deep in your workout, beads of sweat dotting your skin as you powered through another set. He and Marco passed by on their way out, both offering another easy wave goodbye.

“See you later,” Jannik said, voice light and natural, and you nodded back in response. 

But just as they passed, you caught Marco’s voice directed at Jannik, low and teasing. "Allora, quando la sposi?" So, when’s the wedding?

Jannik’s laugh was quiet, but unmistakable. As they stepped outside, just before the door swung shut behind them, he glanced back once more. Through the glass, his gaze flicked toward you before he replied, “Ah, dicono che sia già successo.” They say it's already happened.

You barely caught his remark through the muffle of the closing door, but his expression seemed to happily humor whatever offhand comment Marco had made. And you had your suspicions about what it may have been about—or you had your hopes, at least.

You turned to your trainer, who had lived in Monaco long enough to know some Italian. “Did you catch that? Please tell me you did.”

“If I tell you, you have to promise to push the next set until failure. For real, this time.”

“Last time was for real.” You threw a nearby foam roller at them. “Just tell me.”

“Something about marriage.”

“Okay… I knew it! I think I caught that—sposi.” 

“Why ask then, if you know everything.” Your trainer retorted, smirking as they turned their back on you.

“For the love of—just finish. What’d he say back?” You grab their shoulders to spin them back toward you.

“He said…”

“I’ll kill you, I will.”

With another roll of their eyes, your trainer finally indulged you. “Something about how an alleged wedding has already happened.” 

“...Meaning he must have seen the tweets?”

“And the posts and the edits… Yeah, I think it’s safe to say he knows of it.” They sent you an amused look as they handed you a kettle bell the next weight up.

“And he didn’t seem mad about it…”

“That, he did not—not at all.”

And, even while completing your final and most rigorous exercise of the day, you couldn’t stop the grin that slowly grew on your face.

---

The F1 season was on the cusp of beginning, and the next time you made your way to the gym would be the last for many months. Pre-season testing had wrapped, final preparations were being made. You were back in Monaco for a brief period before the first race of the F1 calendar would take place, just a handful of days away. Everything felt sharper, more electric—like the all things around you were bracing for competition.

Much to your luck, Jannik happened to be their during you last visit as well. He approached you during a short break in your workout, a casual but deliberate kind walk up to you. You’d caught him looking over quite a few times since you’d arrived, as if he’d thought about coming up for a while.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice as easy as ever. “I wanted to wish good luck before you leave.”

“Oh—thanks.” You looked up, slightly surprised but not displeased. “Feels like everything’s kind of kicking off all at once.”

He nodded, resting a hand on his towel-draped shoulder. “Melbourne’s always exciting. You can feel it even here in Monaco, the first race weekend energy is always something else.”

“Yeah, it’s chaos honestly. Fans everywhere, nerves, media running at full speed.” You huffed a small laugh, stretching out your arms. “You’re pretty familiar with Melbourne, aren’t you?

“Yes, yeah,” he smiled, a knowing glint in his eye at your allusion to his win streak there. “It’s a special place—it’s also the first major of the season. So Australia is the beginning for us tennis players, too.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” You considered that, then gave a slight tilt of your head. “F1 Academy's start actually isn’t in Melbourne, though.”

It was a common misconception, many long-time F1 fans like Jannik weren’t familiar with the sporadic F1 Academy schedule that went in tandem with F1 itself, but he was quick to respond. Matter-of-fact and faultless, he quickly clarified for himself. “Aah, yes. It’s in Shanghai, no? The week after?”

“...Yes, actually.” His informed answer stopped you for a second, leaving you pleasantly surprised, your brows raising. “That’s exactly right.”

He shrugged, casual as ever. “I assume you will be traveling soon either way so I wanted to wish you luck before.”

“Well, thank you,” You hummed, smirking to yourself as you picked up your water bottle. “... Seems like someone’s been looking into the F1 Academy schedule.”

Jannik didn’t skip a beat at the teasing. If anything, his reply was entirely diplomatic, if not a little sheepish. “No, I mean—honestly, I did not know much before,” he admitted. “But I’d like to.”

You shot him a look, playful and curious. “Yeah? Big F1 Academy fan now?”

“Trying to be,” he said, smiling. “I like all racing.”

“Good answer.”

You chatted a little more—about training, about how brutal long-haul flights could be when in-season travel ramped up, about the chaos of Melbourne when the events rolled into town. The conversation was easy, no need for overthinking. Just two people talking about their respective worlds, swapping stories of airports, media days, and all the ways professional sports altered the warped any sense of time zones.

And then, as you were about to part ways, he hesitated for just a second before speaking. “Hey,” he said, shifting slightly on his feet. “Mind if I get your number?”

You blinked once, processing. Athletes exchanged numbers all the time. Networking, staying in touch, all that. It wasn’t necessarily a move. It’s not a move. 

Still, something about it caught you off guard, just for a second. You didn’t let it show. You nodded, and he was already unlocking your phone to hand to you. It’s not not a move.

You took his phone, fingers moving quickly to type in your number into the recipient part of a new message tab before hesitating for just a second over the text. Just your first? Full name? Something stupid and teasing? You settled on just his name, clean and simple—like you did this all the time, like you needed a reminder of who’s number it was this time—before passing it back. 

But when you got back home and opened your phone to the text—Jannik Sinner—you had to check yourself before you jumped up and down in your apartment. Settling on only loving the message, the message you had sent from his phone, you bit back a smile as you saved his number to your contacts.

---

The Melbourne Grand Prix weekend buzzing with energy, you could even tell through the screen—fast cars, packed grandstands, and coverage in every direction. You had the pre-race media on in the background, half paying attention as you stretched out on your hotel room couch, scrolling through your phone between interviews and team meetings.

When the interviewer made their way to Oscar Piastri, you let your attention drift back to the screen and your long-time friend.

It was a casual pre-race chat about his off-season, his expectations, and how he spent his time away from the paddock; fielding predictable questions about his off-season and the new announcement of his multi-year contract. 

“Spent a lot of time here in Australia—Watched a lot of cricket, some tennis. Just had time with my family and my girlfriend, but I’m happy to be back.” He finished the concise summary with his characteristic polite nod, lips pressed into a straight line of a smile.

"We all saw you at the Australian Open—I believe Mark Webber was also there."

"Yup,” Oscar nodded once more. “Mark was there, I was there with my girlfriend Lily. We got to watch Jannik Sinner play in the semi-finals, which was quite cool. He had a great run."

You exhaled a short laugh to yourself. It was no surprise that Oscar mentioned Jannik in his off-season recap, you were surprised he had to be prompted to at all—even you knew of his online fixation on the tennis player. Not that you could claim to be much better. 

The interviewer continued. "Speaking of Sinner—Did you see your fellow McLaren F1 Academy driver was spotted training at the same gym as him.”

You blinked, now fully alert. They were bringing that up?

Oscar smiled a little at that. “Yes, I did see this.”

Your eyes narrowed at the screen. Of course he did. 

"How do you feel about that? That she’s potentially getting more face time with one of your favorite athletes than you are." The interviewer asked playfully.

"Hm, might have to switch gyms now." He deadpanned.

“For Sinner or for [Your Name]?”

"No, I already see enough of her—I mean, we're old friends.” Oscar made a face before huffing out a little laugh. Then, he glanced straight into the camera with a grimace, as if he was addressing you directly. "No offense."

Your jaw dropped slightly, amidst your smile, before a laugh bubbled up. The broadcast had even thrown up that gym photo in the corner of the screen, the very same one that had set the internet off not even a couple of weeks ago.

Grinning, you snapped a picture of the moment on your screen. Behind, the interview carried on as you scrolled through your text inbox to hover over his name. Jannik Sinner. This could be the perfect olive branch, the most organic opportunity you’d get to break the ice and to use his number.

You glance back up at the broadcast. If Oscar mentions Jannik once more, then I have to send it.

“Well, your new contract states that you can visit any sports event or game on McLaren’s dime.” The interviewer had seamlessly segwayed to the topic of Oscar’s newest career development.

Oh, god. You knew what was coming. You asked for this.

“Yes, I’m very grateful. I can catch all the cricket matches I want now…” 

Here it comes—

Oscar continued, “Hopefully, I can catch a couple more games of Sinner's as well. Tennis tournaments overlap with race travel, but it’s definitely in my mind.”

And there it is. You should’ve known. You stared at Oscar’s face through the screen, not knowing whether to curse him or to thank him.

“Well, there’s one way you can get ahead of [Your Name].” The interviewer joked again, dropping your name once more. “Can’t have her winning Sinner over before you can.”

Great. Not only did you hang your source of encouragement to text on the actions of your biased friend on live TV hundreds of miles away, but you were also apparently in direct competition with him as well. According to the media, at least—and they were always right…

You quickly typed out a message to go with the image before you could second guess it again.

You Just so you know, you’ve officially stolen my long-time friend  You I guess Oscar chose you over me

It took less than a few minutes after sending for your phone to buzz. You jumped to read it.

Jannik Sinner Ha just saw that

So he was watching. You hoped he didn’t cringe too hard at the interviewer’s antics, or at Oscar’s. 

Another text came in.

Jannik Sinner His loss

You immediately shut the phone at that, pressing lips together as you fought back a smile. Take that Piastri.

---

Over the past week, you and Jannik had been consistently texting after your initial message. More often than you’d ever expected. It wasn’t anything too committed—just a kind of easy back-and-forth you got to when you could, and it made the monotony of travel days and training schedules feel a little lighter. Normally, you were awful at keeping up with messages. You’d leave people on read for days, sometimes even weeks, as a consequence of your busy schedule once the season picked up. But with him, you found yourself checking your phone more than usual, feeling a little thrill whenever his name popped up on the screen. It was just something new and exciting to keep your attention—that's what you reminded yourself.

As the first race weekend approached, even your text responses to him became fewer and farther between. It wasn’t intentional—you just had too much going on. Track walks, meetings, media, final car setup adjustments. 

And then, after all the commotion and against all odds, you won your first F1 Academy race—as a rookie. Any hope you did have to catch up on your unread texts was wiped as you were surely bombarded with a flux of congratulatory messages, not that you didn’t have many other things to get out of the way first.

The Shanghai International Circuit had been as unforgiving as they say—fast, technical, and full of overtaking opportunities for those who dared. The race started under a clouded sky, humid air thick with the weight of expectations. You had lined up in third, gripping the wheel tightly as you lined up at your box.

The moment the lights went out, the roar of the engines swallowed everything else. The run down to the first turn was chaos—eighteen cars funnelling into a long, tightening right-hander, each driver hunting for space but wary of disaster. You’d held your ground, forcing the car ahead to the outside while defending from the driver behind. The grip felt solid, but you could already tell the track was evolving under the afternoon heat.

By turn six—the heavy braking zone at the end of a sweeping acceleration stretch—you had spotted an opportunity. The driver ahead hesitated, their rear tires twitching just slightly under braking. You took the chance, diving up the inside and committing fully to the move. Your car hugged the apex, and as you powered out, you saw your front wing edge ahead. And then the position was yours.

But that was just when the real fight began.

Shanghai’s layout demanded patience and precision. The long straights gave just enough tow for cars behind to keep pressure on, while the complex middle sector tested every inch of a driver’s technical ability. The car beneath you was strong but jumpy on the exit of Turn 11, forcing you to manage throttle input carefully as you prepared for the long arc of Turn 13 leading into the back straight. You could feel the tires slowly losing grip, the rear stepping out just slightly under acceleration. You’d adjusted, keeping the balance in check, knowing that every micro-movement could mean the difference between holding position and losing it.

With ten laps to go, you had one car left to pass. The race leader was smooth, disciplined, placing their car exactly where they needed to, making sure you never had an easy run. But you’d studied them—watched their tendencies, how they hesitated slightly under braking into Turn 14. It took more than a few laps of preparation, testing different lines, seeing where you could unsettle them. And then, with just a handful of laps left, you’d made your move.

Late braking into Turn 14. Just a fraction later than before. The front tires locked for a millisecond, but you had already committed, already slotted your car alongside theirs. Side by side on exit, wheel to wheel, throttle pinned. You’d kept your foot in it, knowing the next few corners would decide everything. The grip held. Your car edged ahead.

The final laps were pure adrenaline—every braking zone, every corner exit, every defensive maneuver was a test of nerve. But when the checkered flag waved, it was your car that crossed the line first.

Your first race victory.

The radio erupted with cheers from your team, their voices overlapping, a mess of excitement and disbelief. You barely had time to process it as you pulled into the pitlane, hands shaking slightly as you unclipped the wheel.

Then came the podium. The rush of stepping onto the top step, trophy in hand, the national anthem playing. Champagne sprayed across your suit as you laughed, blinking through the sting. Cameras flashing, faces blurred by the lights. It all felt distant, like a dream happening to someone else.

Only when you sat in an icebath, in the quiet at the back of McLaren’s garage, did it really start to hit.

A flood of congratulations came from everywhere, wherever you went—team strategists, social media admin, engineers, chefs, mechanics, rival drivers, and that onslaught of messages pinging your phone from people back home who had been watching. You’d tried to skim them, but still didn’t have a moment reply. You’d get to them later.

You still had to head to McLaren's motorhome for a post-race debrief. As soon as you stepped in, Lando Norris was already grinning up at you. "Look, here comes the race winner. Only took you one try."

"Yeah, mate, took the both of us at least a season." Oscar reached up to firmly clasp your hand and nodded in agreement, his voice warm by his standards. “Congratulations.”

You nodded, smiling at the gesture. "Well… some of us learn faster than others."

Lando clapped you on the back as you sat down. "Seriously, though—hell of a drive. That last overtake was insane."

Oscar leaned forward. "Yeah, we were watching from the garage, and even I flinched when you went for it."

“He jumped, [Your Name], he jumped.” Lando said, comically widening his eyes when you met his gaze.

You laughed at that. "Wow, I can’t even imagine. I broke Oscar Piastri’s mask."

The banter eventually settled, and then the debrief began. The purpose was clear, there wasn’t much time until the F1 race now—you had to provide all relevant insights for Lando, Oscar, and the engineers. The track conditions, tire performance, and any major takeaways they could apply to their own races. 

The strategists pulled up detailed telemetry, analyzing how the track surface had evolved throughout the weekend. Shanghai’s long straights meant lower downforce setups were favored, and the heavy braking zones into Turn 6 and Turn 14 made front tire management crucial. You all discussed track temperature fluctuations and rubber buildup, and how the track evolution was steady but tight. 

The strategists noted that teams who pitted early had struggled with graining, while those who extended stints found better traction toward the end. 

"Your exits in Sector 2 were really strong," one of the strategists noted, highlighting how you had found better traction out of Turn 11 than most of the grid. "That’s probably what set you up so well for the final overtake."

Lando, with focus that always surprised you, leaned in. "Shanghai's such a weird track for braking. One lap it's fine, the next you're sliding through Turn 14 like it's a drift comp. Was the wind messing with you guys today?"

"Well see here? I lost a couple of tenths through Turn 9 in the earlier laps—could be setup-related, or an adjustment thing, but it felt like wind at the time."

Oscar hummed. "From the garage, it looked like a few people were getting caught out. Back straight was catching people late on the brakes—looked like one of those days where you think you’ve nailed it, and then suddenly, nope."

You nodded. "It wasn’t too bad early on, but by mid-race, it felt like the front end was getting lighter. I was imagining it at first, but it got trickier through the long corners. Something to keep in mind, for sure."

The discussion continued, touching on how the cooler temps had made the rears a bit sketchy toward the end and how some teams were struggling to keep heat in them. The strategists flagged possible drizzle in the afternoon, debating whether it would be light enough to just make the track greasy or if it might actually justify a switch to inters. And then the engineers gave final notes before wrapping up.

As everyone started filtering out, Oscar reached for the phone on the table—only to pause. He squinted at the screen, turning it over in his hand.

“This isn’t mine.”

You frowned, glancing at your own empty hands and patting at your pockers.

“Oh, it's mine,” you said, reaching for it.

Just as you did, the screen lit up with a new message.

From Jannik Sinner

Oscar raised his eyebrows, glancing between you and the phone before tilting it just out of reach. "What’s this?"

You huffed, narrowing your eyes. "Give it back."

But Oscar wasn’t done. He gave you a look after skimming the notification, and then deadpanned, "So, what kind of gym is this exactly?"

You rolled your eyes, making another grab for it, but he sidestepped easily. "Oscar—"

"Maybe I should look into it." He turned to Lando for support. "I’m seriously considering."

You finally snatched the phone from his grip, shaking your head as you unlocked it. "Sounds like someone’s jealous."

"Oh, I'm devastated," he said sarcastically, still smiling when he tried to look over your shoulder. "What’d he say?"

When you glanced down at the message, all your indignation melted into something a bit more bashful.

Jannik Sinner I’m sure you are busy Jannik Sinner But wanted to wish you a congratulations on the win Jannik Sinner First of many  

Your lips pressed together, but you couldn’t fight the way your ears warmed slightly.

"That’s a face.” Oscar watched you for about half a second, exchanging a look with Lando who still hovered nearby. “So what did he say?"

You exhaled through your nose, still smiling as you read it over again. "Just… 'Congratulations, first of many.’ That kind of thing.”

“Isn’t he in Monaco?” Lando made a thoughtful noise, then glanced at the time. "Because your race was at like… 3:30 in the morning there."

You blinked, looking up at him before looking back at Oscar. "He probably watched it later."

Oscar gave you a look, “Even if he only finished watching now… it’s still 6 AM there."

A wide grin settled on your face in realization, but you tried not to look too smug when you replied “... Well, he did say he was trying to get into it.”

Oscar folded his arms, rolling his eyes and patting your back as he walked away. "I think I might be further behind in this race for Sinner than I thought."

---

HOW did I get so carried away. You don't even want to know how much I wrote that I deleted... Sooo much unnecessary, technical stuff. Uh but here it is... Way later than I said, whoops

Also again with the texts and the tweets and the, you know. Still figuring out the best way to format that. Because it is an inevitable part of a modern romance, and so I must learn how to include it properly. And, if you think about it, the gym crush to number exchange to the fun texting arc is honestly a fucking rom com by todays standards... Most unrealistic part is that he triple texted to say congratulations after getting temporarily ghosted... So

Also I'm a rally-truther. It's objectively way more entertaining than F1, but we're not ready for that convo Also there aren't as many divas in rally, well there are but not itn the same way

Okay, anyways. It's here, it's out, it's proud. Happy, first race weekend!! Enjoy xx

[leclerc-hs]

lucifer - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: you purposely try to make Charles jealous at a party which ultimately leads to some dirty consequences Warnings: SMUT, bad writing, curse words, 18+, choking, slapping, spitting Word Count: 1,657 Author's Note: this was a request from an anon 'Charles jealous and possessive please' that I wanted to make halloween related. Feel free to send more requests!!! Also I apologize for how dirty this might be. I was in a moooood.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"You are so in for it tonight," your best friend spoke into your ear with a small laugh. "You look hot. Charles' palm will be twitching once he see's you."

It was funny. How irrational the both of you became when the mixture of alcohol and other people were involved. 

You and Charles were not a couple, and the mere thought of dating him was utterly inconceivable at most times. He exuded an air of insufferable arrogance that grated on your every nerve. His incessant self-assuredness and overconfidence were more than enough to drive you to the brink of frustration.

But, the sex. Oh boy, the sex. It was as if pushing each other’s buttons was your own secret form of foreplay.

Your outfit was minimal to say the least. An angel. The innocence of your appearance was almost complete, aside from the subtle hint of revealed skin that added a touch of allure. A tiny white dress graced your form, its delicate lace fabric clinging to your figure. Attached were a pair of feathered wings that extended from your back, imparting an air of ethereal elegance. Completing the ensemble, a fluffy white halo, nestled on your head by a dainty headband, bestowed an angelic aura to your attire.

It was an outfit that sent looks your way for sure. Looks that you didn’t care about. There was only one pair of eyes you truly wanted to capture. But you wouldn’t let it be known. There’s no fun in that, right?

Though the night was still relatively young, your friend’s apartment was already deemed a mess. Plastic red cups and glass bottles scattered across most surfaces. The ever-shifting multicolored lights transitioning from crimson to rich purples cast a unique and enchanting ambiance throughout the room. 

You felt your thighs press together as the mere memory of the rough fuck from a few weeks ago slips into your mind. It was a pestering memory that reminded you just how much his jealousy ate at him. You wanted it. You needed it. 

You could feel him before you saw him. The burning gaze of his eyes lingering on you as you leaned against a wall talking to another guy. A guy, whose name you don’t quite remember, was cute. His humor had you in stitches, keeping you fully engrossed in his presence. The music reverberating against the walls made it hard to hear, resulting in the need to stand closer to one another. From an outsider, his proximity appeared intimate. Almost too intimate for Charles to bare the sight of. 

You weren’t flirting at first. At least you weren’t until that memory popped into your head a few minutes ago. You were merely testing the waters, curious to gauge how long it would take for him to crack.

“Do you want another drink?” The guy, who might’ve been named Daniel, leaned in closer so you could hear him over the music. His lips nearly brushing against your ear as he raised his voice. 

That seemingly was the last straw. Because before you could even answer, you felt a presence slightly to the left behind you. There was no need to even turn your head; the identity was unmistakable. The firm grip of his hands on your waist, pulling your back to his front, left no doubt on who it was.

“I got it from here,” He was short with his words, so assertive. Leaving little to no room for Daniel, you think that’s his name, to argue. There was no space for Daniel, or whatever his name might be, to push back. You couldn’t see the expression Charles wore, but it must have been far from pleasant, judging by Daniel’s hasty retreat. 

You still hadn’t gotten the chance to look at him. Or his costume. He was already guiding you down the apartment hallway, weaving through the crowds of people, and pushed you into the nearest bathroom. You heard a quick sound of the lock on the door. Much like the rest of the apartment, the bathroom was decked out for the occasion. Instead of its typical white-yellow lighting, crimson hues filled the space, casting an eerie sensuous glow. 

“It seems I still have to remind you who you belong to,” his voice was a low sultry murmur as his lips grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. In front of the mirror by the sink, his towering figure dwarfed yours. Finally, your eyes locked with his in the reflection, the intensity of the moment palpable. 

The irony of his outfit threatened to draw an unintended moan from your lips. A devil – the symbolism was anything but planned, completely coincidental. It was as if some silent alarm was blaring, one that everyone else seemed to hear, except for the two of you who were right in the thick of it. The connection between you was undeniable, transcending mere physical attraction, and it was clear as day to all the observers. 

His hands were relentless, firmly gripping your ass and thighs until you were panting. His touch was so tantalizing that even the lightest brush of his fingers left you dripping and needy for more.

“I didn’t know you were here,” you lied through your teeth. Charles elicited a mockery of laughter, his lips brushing your skin, as he pressed you firmly against the cool granite countertop. Goosebumps arose on your skin from the contrasting temperatures. Your skin burned with an intense heat, in stark contrast of the cold granite countertops. 

“You were too busy acting like a fucking slut to notice.” He sneered as he lifted the ends of your dress above your waist, revealing that you had been bare underneath all along.

You smirked back at him through the mirror, “couldn’t have panty lines now, could I?” A sharp slap echoed off the walls of the tiny bathroom as his hand collided with the skin of your ass. You were soaked already. Full of anticipation. You both were so full of need; Charles couldn’t even wait to pull his pants all the way off. 

“Such a fucking tease,” were the last words he said before slamming his cock into your entrance. A yelp of surprise escaped your lips as a powerful and sudden thrust rocked through you, causing you to place your trembling hands on the countertop to steady yourself. 

“Oh my fucking god.”

“Fucking hell. You’re so fucking tight poupée,” Doll. He sounded like he was in pain. “Squeezing my cock like the whore you are.” His hands gripped your hair as his hips snapped at a rapid pace into you.

“Who’s got you so hot and bothered tonight? Hm?” He starts. It seems as if you just can’t shut the fuck up tonight though. 

“Daniel.” You mutter the words with a smirk on your lips. Testing his patience, pushing the boundaries to see just how far you could go, a playful and daring challenge in the heat of the moment. 

He offered no words back. Just another hard slap to your skin. You shrieked from the burn of the slap, no doubt leaving your skin red. 

You gazed into the mirror, determined to etch this exact moment into your memory. One hand fisted your hair tightly as he pulled it back, the other groping your breast harshly. He continued to roll your nipples between his thumb and middle finger, pinching them just how you liked. The shadows of your feathered wings were visibly shaking with each thrust. It was so fucking hot to see.

“God, do you ever just shut the fuck up?” He muttered between each thrust. If it wasn’t for the loud music in the background, the whole apartment would’ve heard you. The room smelt of sweat as he worked into you harder. You could see his skin start to glisten under the red hues in the mirror. It was so erotic; you almost came right then and there.

"We all know its only my cock you want."

Charles was on the brink of insanity from the way you squeezed around him. Just relentlessly pounding into you that your hips will no doubt have bruises on them from the bathroom countertop.

With an intense, forceful pull on your hair, he tugged you upright, your back arching as your head tilted back, allowing you to gaze up at him, your eyes locking almost instantly.

“Please,” you begged. You were so close. Your pussy was growing sensitive with each thrust.

“Open,” He was so assertive. You surrendered. He spat directly into your mouth, and you swallowed without hesitation. His arm moved around, and his hand settled on the front of your neck, much like a piece of intimate jewelry. He applied just the right amount of pressure, sending you over the edge. 

“Look at you, hm?” Charles edged you on through your orgasm. “Such a fucking slut for my spit.” 

“Yes.” You couldn’t even deny it. You literally were. He pressed your face back down into the sink as he moved in quick pulses. It was as if each pump of his cock was claiming you.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

You swore you blacked out. You barely acknowledged the feeling of him pulling out and spilling himself all over your backside, rubbing the tip of himself around your skin. His strength held you in place, leaving you panting against the cool of the granite. 

He quickly cleaned you up, pressing a light kiss to your ass before pulling your dress back down. He gave two small pats to your butt as you stood up and faced him.

His thumbs slowly pressed under your eyes, wiping the dried tears and smudged mascara from under them away. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered lightly as you leaned the full weight of your head in the palms of his hands.

You felt a tug on your heart as your stomach did somersaults. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be no strings. 

You were completely wiped out. Almost limp in his arms from being freshly fucked. 

“Wanna get out of here?” He zipped his pants back up while you tried to manage your hair back to a semi-decent look. 

“Yes.”

——————————

soooo what do you guys think? please feel free to leave requests!!! I love new ideas xoxo

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience *BONUS CHAPTER*: ~The last night in the beach house!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: You and Kyoya have to spend one more night at the beach house....alone. ➼ what to expect:  "It's fine, you don't have to acknowledge it, I don't even need to if you don't want me to, but thank you anyway" ➼ warnings: None

The beach house is quiet this morning, the rest of the house club had returned home the previous night. For reasons you didn't quite understand Kyoya had to stay there another night, meaning you also had to stay there.

As much as you bizarrely enjoyed your time with the host club you had to admit the tranquility of the almost empty beach house was something you enjoyed, taking in the sights from one of the bay windows.

It was a far cry from your home on the other side of the world. Although it has been so long since you've been there it feels almost fictional to you.

"Taking in the sights?" Kyoya nearly scared you out of your skin, deadly quiet as he snuck up behind you "Your family certainly chose a good spot" he hummed in agreement "What can I say? Good taste runs in the family" You laugh through a hum, leaning against the wall. "I was just coming to ask what food you want to order in? I've decided to give the kitchen staff the night off since it is just the two of us here"

"That is very...kind of you, Kyoya" You smile, that is not a move you had expected Kyoya to take, he would never admit it but Tamaki has been rubbing off on him. When you think over the question an idea sneaks into your mind "Forget ordering food though."

He raises an eyebrow "Huh?" you nod over your shoulder for him to follow you, walking down the hallway toward the kitchen "You still want to learn about my home country?" Kyoya, who catches up with you, a smile taking over him as he realised what you were getting at.

The door to the kitchen swings open with a squeak. "You're going to cook?" Kyoya questions as you search through the kitchen "no" You laugh, taking ingredients from the pantry. "WE are going to cook"

Kyoya could laugh, he cannot name a time that he has ever actually cooked, he has never needed to. You catch on to his thought process just from the look on his face "Kyoya just because we are rich does not mean we aren't above cooking for ourselves, it can be fun"

Kyoya shakes his head, leaning against the counter. "I cannot see why, it is just a necessary process to feed yourself, I don't see why one would do it if they do not need to" you roll your eyes "You say that because you've never tried it, trust me, it'll be easy"

Kyoya picks himself up, "Fine" he huffed, you hand him a knife "You can chop the panchetta" you had to admit that there was something quite entertaining to you about bossing Kyoya around, knowing it is a rare occasion.

"Do you miss home often?" You pause at the question, not looking up from the hob. "I...yes...well, I miss the country, my town" you reply, placing the pasta in the pot. "I must admit that while I have enjoyed my time here Japan has yet to feel like home to me"

Kyoya nodded knowingly, moving to ouran had been a big change for you, and a rough transition. In a strange way being a part of the host club helped with that. Yet lately it has felt different, slightly more comfortable. Things were changing.

"Are you going back for the summer break?" Noticing that he had finished chopping the panchetta you take it from him to fry "No, I'm going to Karuizawa instead, here" You crack an egg into a bowl in front of him, showing him the rest "Karuizawa? Why go there?"

"I...have something I need to do there" you smile, taking the bowl. "Anyway, we need to mix in the cheese" kyoya squinted at you while you made the sauce. "Would you mind draining the pasta?" You look over your shoulder at him, distracted by mixing.

Kyoya looked slightly clueless as he clumsily figured out exactly what to do. Eventually you manage to pull together two dishes for the both of you, sat up on the counter as you eat. "I...I don't think I ever said thank you by the way" He raises an eyebrow, eyes lighting up as he tastes the dish "What for?"

"You know what for, I had a conversation with your father today" his face fell into one of horror "your 'duty of care' is to keep me from being physically harmed, nothing else. which means that everything else..."

"y/n." His voice was somehow weak and stern at the same time, cutting you off but the message had already gotten across, it was too late. "It's fine, you don't have to acknowledge it, I don't even need to if you don't want me to, but thank you anyway"

"You're...welcome" he cleared his throat, you giggle at his mildly flustered state. at it was then that you realised exactly what was happening here. This was a hang out, you two were hanging out. When did that happen? Since when was that a thing that the two of you do?

Things were changing. Things ARE changing. You two are no longer two colleagues who sit at the the same table for coffee anymore, only talking if it is for business. It was a strange notion, a strange feeling, but you didn't hate it.

Next time on patience 'A day in the life of the L/N family!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372

[lurkingshan]

My mind has been spinning and spinning around episodes 3 and 4, and I have so many feelings about them that I have been struggling to decide what I want to write about. One of @bengiyo's questions is about the different feel of this part of the story in the transition from page to screen, including the overall kdramafication effect, and I felt that most keenly where Hyung was concerned.

Let's start with the obvious: Hyung is not supposed to be this young and hot. But then, Young is not supposed to look like Nam Yoon Su, so I guess we can let that one go. More than that, though, I think episode 3 went out of its way to make Yeong Su a more appealing love interest than he ever seemed to be in the novel, and that had a clear purpose: to make the comedown in episode 4 so much worse.

Episode 3 used the familiar trappings of romance dramas to help us understand why Go Yeong was so drawn to this man despite some of his rough edges. They had interesting dates with good conversations. They shared an umbrella in the rain. They kissed sexily outside. They danced together in Yeong Su's (much nicer than described in the book) apartment. I may or may not have actually said OH MY GOD out loud when they were moving together to that old song; it was intoxicating in exactly the way early attraction is. Instead of viewing Hyung through the bitter recollections of Young's memory already knowing he's a bastard, we experienced him the way Go Yeong did when he was first catching his interest, and it was easy to see why he would latch onto this man as a balm and a distraction while he was going through a very hard time with his mother's illness.

Which means it hurt so much worse when Go Yeong emerged from that initial haze in episode 4 and realized who Yeong Su really was. He got a hard look at the deep internalized homophobia Yeong Su was carrying and projecting onto him, and it was not pleasant, nor was the way it echoed across his experiences with his mother.

Another interesting change made in the adaptation was to increase the severity of Hyung's crime; where in the novel he only searched and read articles on the evils of homosexuality, in the show he wrote the damn article while Go Yeong slept in his bed. A much larger betrayal and blow for Young. And this makes sense for the screen version, IMO; the romance is deeper and therefore so must be the fracture. Everything is just a bit bigger and more dramatic to amplify the themes of the story and to help the audience understand why this might drive Go Yeong to such a low moment without the benefit of his internal monologue to connect all the dots.

I was reflecting on these changes and how they affected the tone when I read @solitaryandwandering's thoughts, because I was intrigued by her reception of these episodes as darker, where for me, with the (much) more depressing novel version in my head, they felt lighter than expected. Which is kind of a wild thing to say about a section of the story that includes Young's suicide attempt, but context is everything! The T-aras, of course, also contribute to how different this section feels. In the book, Young is presented as so isolated and alone with this relationship, but in the show he has friends who know and care and try to help and show up for him in his low moment to make sure he is not alone. It makes such a difference to the bleakness of it all, and also makes the story feel more cohesive across the different parts in a way the book intentionally does not.

I think ultimately the adaptation choices made here were smart, and I continue to be impressed with how thoughtful Sang Young Park has been with his different visions for his story in each medium.

[karmacharmeleon18]

More Extra Content stuff! You asked (no one did) and I'm delivering (you can't stop me) 😌

Keep in mind that this might not be accurate anymore. Nora wrote it in 2015 and she said many things have changed since then! This is about the Trojans vs Foxes and the Championship + Jean in general with and after the Trojans

The question:

The answer:

iirc Penn State is the team with the closest gaming style to the Ravens? They're brutal and violent Ravens wannabe? Very poetic that the Trojans (Jean!) beat them "soundly" 😌

Transcript under the cut!

Question: "tbh i fell in love with the trojans from the start, and my love for them only augmented when neil's backliner (alvarez?) said she'd love to play against the foxes the following year with the exact same number of players in the trojan's line-up as them. so, does that game ever happen? and how does jean collaborate with the trojans, seeing as the aggressive mentality and the toxic environment to which he's used to are so very different from the trojans'?"

Answer: "The Trojans are sweethearts; hopefully they’ll keep it up throughout any & all future management changes.

The Trojans & Foxes do have a rematch the following year, albeit with different numbers – the Foxes have more players next year, so the Trojans are allowed to bring more to the court as well. This time the Trojans win, though it’s definitely a close call! The Foxes are happy with their performance and with the Trojans’ efforts, but losing there means going home – they draw straws for the second death match. So it’s a little disappointing.

((USC goes on to win championships, soundly beating Penn State))

((Kevin is v v pleased))

((unrepentant fanboy))

Jean has a really rough time with the Trojans. I want to say “at first” but “at first” sounds so temporary, like a couple months of summer practices would be enough to really help him. In truth he has a rough time with them for the better part of his entire first year there.

He’s had a pretty awful time of things, and everything in King’s Men happened so fast – his abduction from Castle Evermore, his new unasked-for contract with Ichirou, the Ravens’ defeat, Riko’s death, and Tetsuji’s resignation —- after so many years of the same relentless abuse it is too much too soon for him to absorb. Hell, he and Kevin don’t even talk about Riko or Riko’s death until after the Foxes & Trojans face each other nearly a year later.

The good(??) news is that Riko’s death kind of breaks something inside him. Breaks? Breaks is a strange word, but I don’t have a better one. When Jean arrives in SoCal, he’s pretty numb. He is free and Riko is gone, he is free and Riko is gone, he is free??? It still feels like a trap. Riko is dead but the other shoe must drop at some point, right?

So yeah, Jean is a whole lot of Not Okay going into his new contract, but he’s surrounded by a team that is both willing to absorb his hurt & rage and completely unwilling to tolerate Raven strategies & attitudes on their court. They can work around his sullen silences and smother his outbursts and stand calm in the face of his anger when it finally has to break, when their pacifism and good nature is just too much for him to take and Jean has to lash out, and then they can just pick up and keep moving like “OK but did that actually help?”

Jeremy occasionally appeals to Kevin for insight on how the Ravens’ Nest worked so he can adjust his approach to Jean as necessary. Kevin helps where he can. Kevin is the one who warns Jeremy he cannot go anywhere alone, we Ravens don’t know how. Jeremy wars with this concept for a while, because he doesn’t want to encourage Jean to hang onto Raven ideologies, but he doesn’t want to make the transition any harder than it has to be.

((That is one of the hardest things for Jean to adjust to, is the fact that the Trojans are allowed to do things outside of Exy that don’t include each other. By the time he goes to California he’s been away from the Ravens’ hive mind for a couple months, but he’s spent that time hiding in a bedroom at Abby’s house. Being able to go to class or the grocery store or the gym without any of his teammates in attendance is just—unfathomable))

Renee is also hard at work behind the scenes, keeping in touch with Jean long-distance and giving him a safe place to vent about.

The further they get from Riko’s death, the longer Jean is surrounded by the Trojans’ easygoing attitudes, the more Jean talks to Renee and his new counselor, the easier it gets. Jean’s fifth year is calmer than his fourth year was, though he’ll never be true Trojan material. He’s still not okay when he graduates, but he’s significantly better, and he at least knows that he can maybe be okay one day."

[electraslight]

the loss of the addiction angle in Kevin's character in the transition from ogs to uaf really shows to me the flaws in uaf's writing compared to ogs's, at least in terms of Kevin's redemption.

Kevin's energy addiction is a key part of his character in ogs. it's implied to be why he swings so drastically from being good to Ben out of the kindness of his heart to trying to kill hundreds of people in mere hours, and it seems like this has been going on a while, shifts in mood correlating to his energy consumption. the addiction is why Ben and Kevin break apart, because Kevin's behavior because of the effects of the drug and his pursuit of it stop them from being healthy friends. Ben never stops believing Kevin might have the capacity to change, though, trying to see through the person the drug created to the person inside, like him sparing Kevin in framed and helping him out in grudge match. Kevin is, at this point in his life, dangerous, but he's still a kid, and Ben's failure to protect him weighs heavy on him for the rest of his life. you see this narrative and think well, if he's redeemed later, this should be important. recovery should be hard, especially when he seems to have been in survival mode for years. it must be hard for Ben to trust him afterwards, especially with the sheer amount of pain they've put each other through, Kevin especially, because of his addiction.

in uaf, Kevin is already good. he can still absorb things, but they don't hurt him now, they aren't a compromise he makes, sanity for safety. he's a con man, he makes measured plans and scams, not drugged out bids of random violence. he's calm, mostly, and he's a good guy now, and he'll help Ben because he has "honor", and he no longer thinks of life totally selfishly. this, I feel, is a cop out.

main characters aren't really allowed to have rough edges in uaf, and when they do, it seems jarring and out of place, or a result of weird writing. Ben's transition from being a little too kind for Ben to being unreasonably cruel in a way he never was as a child is strange, unfitting of how perfect the show wants him to seem. gwen's random bouts of insulting Kevin or pettily harping on him for things he apologized for seem strange when paired with how kind she usually is to him. and Kevin, Kevin is a "bad boy", but not in a dangerous way. all of his crimes are amorphous "things he's done" that they never elaborate on, his scams not cruel but only conniving. even when mutated, he still seems lucid, way less vengeful and violent than he was as a child. he's not an addict. why would he be? he's a good guy. he's changed. even at times where it seems obvious to show that he's "fallen off the wagon", they don't mention it.

I feel like this leads into a larger discussion about uaf, mainly about character flaws and the white sheet covering specifically the alien trio. character traits that got lost in translation, Ben's hobbies, Gwen's love of technology, Kevin's addiction metaphor. especially in terms of flaws. in uaf Ben's "flaws" fluctuate, sometimes being perfect, sometimes randomly getting an ego, losing it, then gaining it back. Gwen in uaf has no stated flaws, or at least ones that are intentional, but because of that, the ones she accidentally has are more toxic and weird than she ever did as a child. and Kevin? he's an amorphous concept. vaguely criminal. vaguely angry. a doormat. what's the issue with writing Kevin in a way where he really does feel like a homeless kid with addiction problems and enough trauma to have that dead look in his eyes forever? I don't know. I don't know where I'm going with this. give Kevin a little violence back.

[simari]

Brunch

The sun streamed through the large windows of Alessandra’s brand new home, casting a warm glow over the beautifully set dining table adorned with delicate floral arrangements and glistening silverware. The aroma of roasted chicken and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the crisp scent of freshly opened wine. Alessandra felt a flutter of excitement as she heard the familiar sound of her friends’ footsteps approaching.

“Alessandra! This place is stunning!” Vivienne exclaimed as she stepped inside, her eyes wide with admiration. Julianna followed closely behind, her expression a mix of surprise and delight. “Thank you! I’ve been waiting for you two to see it,” Alessandra beamed, ushering them into the dining area. “I wanted our first gathering here to feel special." As they settled at the table, glasses of white wine clinked lightly, and the atmosphere bubbled with warmth. Alessandra poured for each of them, her heart swelling with gratitude for this moment. “I really appreciate you both coming. It’s been too long since we’ve all been together.” Vivienne took a sip of her wine and smiled brightly. “Well, I have some news that might just brighten this lunch even more!” She leaned forward, her excitement palpable. “Gabriel proposed!” Alessandra’s eyes widened in shock and joy. “Oh my gosh, Vivienne! Congratulations! When did this happen?” “Just last weekend,” Vivienne replied, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “We’re throwing an engagement party this Saturday at his apartment in San Myshuno. You both have to come!” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alessandra said, her heart racing with excitement. She felt a twinge of something else as she remembered Enzo. “Of course I’ll be there,” Juliana added, though her voice had a slight tremor to it. “I can’t wait to celebrate with you and Gabriel. You deserve all the happiness in the world.” Vivienne grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, and I want you to know, Alessandra, I invited Enzo as well. I thought it would be nice for him to join us.” Alessandra’s heart sank slightly at the mention of his name. She hadn’t seen Enzo since Friendsgiving, and the anticipation of their reunion was a whirlwind of nerves and excitement. “That’s… that’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “It’ll be nice to see him again.” “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Juliana asked, her brow furrowing with concern. “I know things were a bit… complicated between you two.” “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Alessandra replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “It’ll be fine. Really.” But inside, her stomach churned with uncertainty. Juliana, sensing the shift in mood, decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “I wish I had news like that,” she said, her tone becoming more somber. “Things have been a bit rough on my end.” The cheerful atmosphere dimmed as Alessandra and Vivienne turned their attention to Juliana, concern etching their faces. “What do you mean?” Vivienne asked gently. “It’s just… ever since I had the girls, everything feels different,” Juliana admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “Francesco and I… I don’t know. It’s like we’re not the same couple anymore. The twins have changed everything.” “Oh, Juliana,” Alessandra said softly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “I can only imagine how hard that must be. Having two at once is a huge adjustment.” “Yeah, it’s exhausting,” Juliana confessed, tears welling in her eyes. “I worry about Isabella and Sofia, you know? I want to be the best mom I can be, but I feel like I’m failing sometimes. Francesco and I argue more often, and I’m scared that it’s affecting the girls.” Vivienne leaned in, her expression earnest. “You’re not failing, Juliana. You’re doing an incredible job. It’s a huge transition, and it’s okay to struggle. Just know we’re here for you, no matter what.” Alessandra nodded, her heart aching for her friend. “Absolutely. You can always talk to us. We’ll get through this together.”

The three of them shared a group hug, the warmth of their friendship wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. As they pulled back, Alessandra couldn’t help but feel a heaviness in her chest but also a flicker of hope. They finished lunch, laughter and conversation flowing, but somewhere in the back of her mind, thoughts of Enzo lingered, stirring a storm of emotions she couldn’t quite decipher.

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

i was wondering if you have any knight vi/princess caitlyn (or vice versa) or any sort of medieval au for recommendation?

Hi!

We are VERY sorry for an inordinately huge delay in answering this, but in our defence, we've been dealing with a huge backlog, both of fic notif posts (A03 sends double/triple feeds every time they do a maintenance/backup) as well as these requests. Also, between us – our reading interests dwindled and changed, buuutttt – we DO have a rec for you – and hopefully (because we always try to dig up and promote less known and/or underappreciated authors?) not for something you've already discovered, and enjoyed – yourself?

Soooo, without a further ado, the fic is:

for crown & country by hellboy

It’s set in an exquisitely crafted high fantasy universe where the lines between duty and desire blur, amidst a backdrop of royal intrigue and magic. As the description itself says, it starts as a "catch the princess’s cat to win her hand in marriage, oh she is the cat” trope but the narrative excels in its world-building, painting a vivid picture of a realm where magic and political power collide – Piltover, with its snowy mountaintops, grassy plains, and glittering coastlines, serves as a lush and dynamic setting, while the opposing lands of Noxus and Demacia add depth and tension to the geopolitical landscape. Add the Pegasus-riding warriors, spell-weaving magicians and dragons, and you get a very intricate and immersive fantasy world, of course centered around Princess Caitlyn of Piltover, whose rebellious spirit and noble stature set the stage for a compelling narrative of forbidden love, personal growth, yearning, pining and… well – everything that you might be looking for in such a tale, really?

Now, I believe the author disclaimer’d her as a bit of OOC (a snooty princess?) in the beginning, but I’d rather say she’s portrayed with a nuanced blend of regal poise and youthful impetuosity, and her journey from a sheltered royal to a more self-aware and empathetic leader is both believable and engaging. The assignment of a private guard (shh. spoiler – it's Vi ;) to her – adds a layer of complexity and tension, and as Vi’s steadfast loyalty and hidden depths are gradually revealed it creates rich dynamics and adds that feel of a… well, almost of a fairytale quality? So yeah, it would totally read like one... well, were it not for the very high (explicit, as Cait is a 'naughty pussy' really 🤭) rating. Which, if you don't mind it, it's just as immersive because its very gradual build-up is very true to the characters, as portrayed here (they start almost in their teens, and then it stretches well into their adulthood and maturity), and it's never just gratuitous smut (meaning, it holds intense emotional resonance, tenderness and love) despite still being very very 🔥🥵.

Now, those of you who appreciated our recs before may know that we prefer canon compliant stuff, and specifically – good characterization, true to their original nature. And this one manages just that, it captures their essence – Caitlyn’s intelligence and stubbornness juxtaposed with Vi’s rough exterior and hidden vulnerability, they mirror their original depictions, while adding new layers of depth. So they feel credible, maintaining their core traits while adapting to this new setting. Equally, the romance is marked by a (very) gradual (very) slow burn that captures the essence of yearning – their interactions are charged with an undercurrent of unspoken feelings and growing intimacy, the mutual pining is palpable, the transition from enemies to friends to lovers is handled with care, making their eventual union both satisfying and heartfelt.

In the end, even though we prefer canon-compliant stuff and don't really read AUs very often (hence delay in answering this, for which again - we apologise profusely) I must reiterate that this one stands out as a sophisticated and engaging tale that blends rich world-building with intricate character dynamics, because the author's ability to weave a narrative that honors the spirit of all of the original characters while creating something uniquely its own – is beyond commendable.

And of course, I can only hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did. ❤️🌈

[lanitalay]

In the dark, a light

Azriel x reader

a/n: lil azzy one shot

warnings: mentions of death, gore and canon typical violence

Wordcount: 1.1k

Masterlist

In a way it was comforting. You were grateful for whoever had chosen a burial and not the traditional burning. The tight box where you lay was plain wood on the inside. But someone had taken it upon themselves to dress you in your most precious gown. The blue velvet was wrinkled now, months of decomposing does that to fabric and bodies. Your hair was dry and shriveled, not like it had been in life. Someone used to run their fingers through those once luscious locks. If you concentrated you could almost feel the calloused pads of those fingers massaging your scalp. 

You were buried deep enough the ground did not freeze, moisture caused the wood to smell like an old cabin you used to play in as a child. The cabin belonged to your grandmother, but that was a detail you could not remember. It had been months since you died. The cause of death must have something to do with the cracked ribs and broken neck. Your body had been laid perfectly straight, except for the slight bend just above your clavicle. It must have been painful, you think. 

Days aren’t something that can be measured in the darkness of a grave. Sometimes you realize where you are and try to remember who you were. Other times you’re not sure where you go. You suppose one day you won’t return from that ominous place. Returning to this worn and wasted vessel became more and more pointless. There were no names or memories, only flashes. But just when you thought it was over, that the final transition had been made, those rough calloused hands would yank you back. Unwilling to let you drift. 

In the absence of light you failed to notice how with each return to the vessel, your body was warmer. Your cheeks fuller, your hair softer, body plump with something alien to this space. Only when a ray of light seeped through did you realize your eyes were working. You could see. It blinded you and on instinct you raised a hand to shield yourself. Choking as you realize the arm responded to the command and a healthy looking hand landed on your nose.

The light got brighter and brighter and shuffling could be heard from above. Then movement. Your coffin, your home for the last… however long was lifted from the soil and placed on a mound of green grass. Muffled voices clouded your ears, overwhelming your senses. Now I know why babes cry when they are born, you thought. Just moments before you were in a state of bliss, nothing could harm you. Now light was glaring, sounds were overwhelming and the feel of being moved around was all too much. Just then you noticed your heart was beating wildly. Your heart was beating. 

There was more commotion outside, the sound of metal and then ripping of wood ended in the lid from your coffin being lifted. The glorious midday sun floods you with its light. Four figures loom above you. All you want to do is go back. Put me back, you want to say. Let me rot. 

Their faces are cast in shadows. They are speaking amongst themselves, you can’t understand what they are saying. 

“She 's alive.” Said as though the male was confirming a mirage.

“She must be in pain, let's get her to Madja.” Another deep voice commands. Then the calloused hands she would feel pull her soul back to this world picked her out of the coffin and held her close to his chest. 

A sense of relief flooded her. He smelled familiar, like her body knew his and had been aching to rejoin him. In an instant they were in a bedchamber fit for royalty, then she got gently placed on a soft mattress. The ancient healer walks up to them and tells the males to wait outside. 

“How is this even possible?” Cassian asked, dumbfounded. 

“I.. I don’t know.” Azriel answered, gazed fixed on the door that separated him from her. 

“You always said you still felt her.” Rhysand points out. 

“I thought it was her ghost.” 

“Did the Suriel say anything else?” The High Lord asked Feyre, still frazzled by the corpse they had unearthed.

“He just said that she was never gone, she never fully made it to the other side but… how long did you say she had been dead?” 

“Fifty years.” 

“Mother above… and she’s your..?” 

“She’s my mate, yes.” 

The door opens and Madja beckons Azriel, “she’s perfect, her memory is fuzzy but I expect her to recover it in time.” 

Then she leaves, he forces his feet to step into the room that used to be theirs and struggles to breathe the five steps it takes him to reach her bedside. 

“Y/n…” He doesn’t know what to do. Every impulse he has is telling him to hold her, to never let her go, to kiss her and love her until the world fades to oblivion. He settles on twirling a piece of her hair in between two gentle fingers. She gasps at the gesture. 

“It was you.”

“What?”

“All this time… how long has it been? I- your hands” she grabs the one that was caressing her hair “they kept pulling me back.” 

“Do you remember what I said before you..?”

He was cradling your head as breathing became more difficult. A rogue Illyrian band had ambushed and beaten you to a bloody pulp. You were screaming down the bond you shared with your mate and hoping to whatever was out there that Rhysand could hear your mental pleas. They outnumbered you fifteen to one. You didn’t stand a chance. When you were sufficiently damaged the leader took you in his arms and flew you to the barren mountain range, making sure to drop you where the rocks were jagged. 

Azriel took too long to find you. “Please, please, y/n stay with me. Don’t go.” He begged over you.

“It hurts Az.”

“It’ll get better, just wait until we get Madja and she’ll make you better.” 

But then you coughed and bright red blood spilled from your lips. “No, no, no.” 

Your eyes were still open, fading. “Listen to me, I will never let you go, I will take you home and you will recover. You can’t- please don’t leave me y/n. Please, please, please.”

Your eyes rolled back by then. It hadn’t been two minutes since he found you. All hope vanished when your head went limp in his hands. You were gone. But the bond lingered and Azriel held onto it with everything his soul had to offer. He would keep the bond alive, knowing that your souls were entwined and believing that death was nothing, if not a worthy opponent. 

“You never let go.” 

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Five

Chapter Summary: On her last night in Velaris before she heads home, Elain and Azriel finally gets a chance to talk about what's going on between them.

Word Count: 5.9k

Missed the first four chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: As always, thank you for all the love on the last chapter of this fic. It's always so much fun to hear what you guys think. An extra thank you for your patience with me in getting chapter five out. This past month has been a rough one and I haven't been writing much because of it but I finally managed to sit down and finish this chapter and I'm happy with how it turned out. I hope you are too. As always, I must remind you that this is a slow burn and we must get through a heavy dose of angst before we can reap our reward. The good news is, the reward is coming very soon.

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

The first time Elain had sex with Graysen was also the first time he’d asked her about the necklace. 

It was the last week of January and he’d invited her back to his apartment after he’d taken her out to dinner at a glamorous hotel that offered unbelievable views of the city for their fourth date. She’d seen the invitation for what it was. Knew exactly what he had in mind from the way he’d lowered his voice to ask her, the pad of his thumb sliding over her bottom lip. Elain had only hesitated for a moment before she’d accepted his offer, Nesta’s voice in her head from a night years ago when she imparted some wisdom to Feyre after a particularly bad breakup, her hands on Feyre’s shoulders as she looked into her teary eyes. 

“Fey, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” 

Elain had laughed at her sister’s advice at the time but standing there outside the restaurant that night, looking at Graysen as snowflakes drifted lazily from the dark winter to sky to cling to her hair and eyelashes, she’d decided that she wanted to put Nesta’s advice to the test.

She’d spent weeks in a daze, unable to sleep as the memory of Christmas night played on repeat in her mind as if it was some sort of faulty film reel incapable of moving past a certain scene and insistent on torturing her. She had grown sick of it - sick of the guilt that consumed her for still daring to think of Azriel. For wanting him again even though she had been the one to leave. 

Dating Graysen had only done so much to take the edge off, providing her a few hours of distraction each week, but she needed more. She needed to attempt to replace the phantom feeling of Azriel’s weight on top of her, the feeling of him inside her.

In a way, sleeping with Graysen had helped. She’d always liked sex. She enjoyed being close to another person, appreciated the immediate intimacy that came with having a pair of hands gripping her hips and someone’s lips on her skin. In the few times that she’d pondered what Graysen would be like in bed, she’d suspected that he would be much like the other guys she’d been with over the years and she’d been right. 

His initial careful kisses had quickly progressed to deeper, bruising ones. The gentle hands that had slowly undone the zipper on the back of her dress had transitioned into firm hands that held her down and maneuvered her whichever way he liked, taking her how he wanted without taking a second to even check if she enjoyed the things he did.

Elain was used to this treatment. The rough sex. She’d come to like it - crave it, even. But every now and then, there was an occasional moment where her partner would leave and she’d be left by herself in a cold bed, thinking about things a little too long until angry tears welled in her eyes at the realisation that most of the men she’d been with felt entitled to do whatever they wanted to her. That no matter how respectful they may have been towards her or how much they genuinely liked her, they all seemed to get off on debauching a girl that was otherwise quite reserved. Graysen had been no different and because she’d always desired touch, she couldn’t help but take it however it was presented to her. 

Graysen had taken the small golden pendant in between his fingers minutes after they’d finished, propping himself up on one elbow until his shadow loomed over her. His thumb had dragged over the engraving on the front - smoothing over the intricately detailed rose- before he flipped it over to study the back, turning it this way and that until it caught the little bit of dim light streaming in his window from the streetlamp outside. 

“What’s the deal with this?” He’d asked her, the slightest edge to his voice. “You never take it off.”

Elain had tried her best not to freeze at the question but she couldn’t help the way her heart stopped for a split second before her heart rate picked up again, slamming against her chest like an anvil. She gently took the pendant back from him, easing it out of his grip to press it tight against her chest until she knew it would leave an oval shaped indentation on her bare skin. It was a grounding tactic, something she did to bring herself back into her body whenever her anxiety veered out of control.

What was she supposed to tell him? How could she begin to explain the necklace that she’d worn religiously every single day for the last four years? The sentimental value that such a small object held? 

She couldn’t exactly tell him that every time she touched it, she thought of the hands that had made it just for her, thought of the way those same hands had grazed her skin the night Azriel had fastened it around her neck and all the things those hands had done to her the last time she’d visited home before she started dating Graysen. When she’d been propped up on Azriel’s kitchen counter and splayed out in his bed. 

There was no simple way to explain that she’d never mustered up the courage to ask whether the tiny ‘A’ he’d engraved on the back stood for her last name or his first. 

Instead, Elain had settled for the most honest answer she was willing to give him at the time. 

“It was a birthday gift from a friend back home.” 

She’d never thought that they’d get to the point where she’d have to divulge exactly who that friend was, let alone have that friend and her boyfriend in the same room together. She’d been a fool to think that Graysen wouldn’t put two and two together and last night she’d been well and truly caught out. She’d stood in front of him like a deer in headlights, one arm wrapped defensively around her stomach while her other hand clutched the necklace tight in between her fingers as if she was afraid that he’d reach out and pry it right off of her. 

“Is he or is he not the friend that gave you that necklace, Elain?” Graysen had asked her once more, his lips pressed together in a firm line. 

Elain had hesitated for a moment but she knew there was no way around this. There was no lie she could possibly make up to steer him away from the truth. It was plain as day who had given her that necklace and so all she could do was just nod silently and try to keep her hands from shaking.

“Unbelievable,” Graysen ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “He’s not just a fucking friend then, is he? Didn’t seem like he goes around making jewelry for all of his friends.” 

He was right. Azriel had never made anything for anyone except her. It was something that Feyre and Nesta never let him forget.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Elain took a deep breath, dropping her necklace back down and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “A friend made me a necklace for my birthday. There’s nothing else to it.”

“Did you date him?” He’d asked, his gaze unwavering as he stared her down. Daring her to try and lie to him.

“No.” Elain answered easily and honestly. “We never dated. Never even came close to it.” 

Even if she’d spent plenty of time daydreaming of what it would be like to date Azriel, she’d never pursued anything more with him for reasons that were all too complicated to explain.

“But you’ve fucked him.” 

He hadn’t phrased it as a question. It was a statement, his shoulders squared and his voice sure. 

Elain had hesitated a second too long and she watched as something settled in his eyes that made her realise that he’d been hoping he’d been wrong and was sorely disappointed to find out that his assumption was correct.  

“How many times?”

She had scoffed, shaking her head. Couldn’t believe that he would have the audacity to even ask her that question. 

She’d been about to open her mouth to argue back, to ask him what number would qualify as too many times or if knowing how many times she’d slept with Azriel would affect anything, but the sound of footsteps running down the hallway caused her to pause. 

She’d been saved by her nephew who had popped his little curly-haired head around the door to Rhysand’s study to innocently ask if she’d read him a book before bed.

Elain hadn’t even spared a second to look at Graysen again before taking Nyx’s small hand and allowing him to lead her up the stairs to his bedroom where he spent entirely too long picking out his book for the night. 

She slipped out of Nyx’s room an hour or so later, only padding down to the kitchen to say goodnight to Feyre and Rhys, before heading back upstairs. She’d been simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Azriel had left just ten minutes before with Nesta and Cassian. 

Elain had tiptoed into the room she and Graysen had taken over for the weekend, had quickly changed and silently crawled into bed, facing away from Graysen who excused himself to bed not long after their ill-fated conversation. He’d sidled up to her after a couple minutes, pulling her back against his chest while one hand slid up her stomach to cup her breast. 

“Gray,” she tried her best not to flinch away from his touch. “We can’t. Not here.”

“El,” he muttered into her hair. “Come on.”

“Thought you were mad at me,” she couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her as the hand that wasn’t circling her nipple dipped under the waistband of her underwear.

“You can’t blame me for being jealous when someone else looks at you like that.” His teeth scraped over the sliver of skin that the stretched out neckline of her shirt left exposed.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” Elain whispered, biting down on her lip as he turned her around and pulled her on top of him. 

He ground his hips upwards, letting her feel him hard against her. “Prove it to me.” 

She wasn’t particularly in the mood for this but she relented, allowing him to lift her shirt over her head before she bent down and pressed kisses all the way down the center of his chest. 

This was the opportunity she needed - not to take her mind off anything that had happened that day. There was nothing that could keep those memories at bay. It was simply a distraction, exactly what she needed to hopefully keep Graysen from asking more questions that she wasn’t ready to answer.

She’d give him this, let him have her just how he liked while her mind wandered elsewhere. To a place where the hands on hips weren’t his but someone else’s. To a night that featured her fingers buried in dark hair while a pair of hazel eyes looked up at her from between her thighs. It was wrong - so unbelievably wrong - to think about someone else in a moment like that. But she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty as she let herself get lost in the fantasy of tattooed, golden skin sliding over her own bare skin.  She was only thankful that Graysen’s hand was over her mouth to keep her quiet because if it hadn’t been, she would’ve had to fight to keep a different name from slipping out from between her lips. 

One more night. She just needed to make it through one more night and then she could go back to her new city and do what she did best - pretend that the life she had in this town, and the person that she was when she was here, didn’t exist at all. 

…

A few months before their wedding, Nesta and Cassian had moved to a sprawling property on the outskirts of Velaris that featured a gorgeous ranch style home complete with the porch of Elain’s dreams - one that wrapped around the entire perimeter of the house and featured a built-in swing to the right of the front door. It was picture book perfect and it helped to ease the loss both Feyre and Elain felt when Nesta moved… even if she was only a forty-five minute drive away. 

Elain had always looked forward to spending a weekend at Nesta and Cassian’s. She and Feyre would pack a bag and head up to their cousin’s house where the three of them would sit shoulder to shoulder on the swing, a thick blanket draped across their laps as they watched the sun set over the mountains. If they were lucky, Cassian would bring them snacks and drinks until either bugs or the cold sent the three of them heading back inside. 

This time, instead of a gossip filled car ride with her sister, Elain and Graysen had made the journey in almost complete silence. She had hoped that they’d made their peace last night but when she’d awoken this morning, it was clear that there was still some awkwardness lingering between them… perhaps at the knowledge that the subject of their argument would be sharing a wall with them tonight.

He hadn’t left her alone for even a second since they’d walked into the house to find Azriel already there, a dish towel slung over his shoulder as he chopped onions for whatever it was Nesta had on the menu for the evening. Even when she went to greet Azriel with a hug, deciding that it would be more suspicious if she greeted him any differently today, Graysen’s fingers had stayed on her back.

She remained patient with him, pushing aside the anxiety she felt at his constant proximity. She did her best to reassure him any way she could that he had nothing to worry about, all the while hoping that maybe she could convince herself of the very same thing in the process.

There had been no ducking out of his arms or dodging his kisses tonight. There had only been soft smiles and reassuring touches at all the right moments. Still, she couldn’t help that as she stood around the kitchen counter with her family - her attention had shifted, catching the subtle flex of Azriel’s forearms as he leant forward, his hands wrapping around the lip of the counter as he spoke to Cassian.

It was the smallest movement, barely noticeable, yet it triggered something in her brain that thrust her straight back into the memory that she’d tried and failed to avoid for the past few months. 

Suddenly, she couldn’t concentrate on anything else, unable to tear her eyes away from the familiar ridges and veins of his hands. The heat of Graysen’s palm flat against the middle of her back faded into nothing as she remembered the taste of cinnamon and cream. Remembered the way she had once been perched on a counter so similar to the one they were currently standing around. The easy way Azriel had slotted himself between her knees, her dress rising up her thighs. The feeling of his fingers dragging up her legs until they slipped under her hem. The gentleness with which he’d touched her. She swore she could feel his breath against her neck. Swore she could hear the things he’d whispered into her ear that night. 

“Helloooo… Earth to Elain!” Feyre’s voice brought her back to reality, her sister’s hand waving in front of her face as Elain’s vision cleared and she attempted to remember where the hell she was and what she was doing. “I asked if you wanted another drink?” 

Elain could only nod, afraid of how her voice might betray her if she attempted to speak. It didn’t help that she was all too aware of the way Graysen watched her, blue eyes once again filled with the suspicion she’d been working so hard to keep at bay as he  tracked her gaze to the pair of hazel eyes that were now staring directly back at her from the other side of the counter.

She readily accepted the margarita Feyre handed her, not wasting any time before downing half of it in one go. She’d never needed a drink more in her entire life. 

… 

Azriel stood directly outside the kitchen. He hadn’t turned any lights on when he’d wandered out a little while ago so it was just him, the stars, and the tiny smoldering ember of amber light flickering at the end of the lit cigarette slotted in between his index and middle finger.

He was utterly exhausted, eyes bleary as he tried and failed to link the stars together to form a constellation. He’d tried to fall asleep but he was too distracted by racing thoughts of the way Elain had looked at him from across the kitchen counter. The fleeting want that had appeared in her eyes - there and gone in a second, a lingering blush on her cheeks the only evidence that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. He told himself it was just the margarita in her hands that had caused the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks but he knew her better than that. He knew all her tells. 

That’s why it had hurt even more to see her disappear down the hallway and into her room, her piece-of-shit boyfriend in tow. Azriel didn’t know how long he’d lasted laying in bed before he’d gotten back up and stumbled outside, too paranoid about each and every noise that he could hear from the room that shared a wall with the one he stayed in each time he found himself crashing at Nesta and Cassian’s for the night. 

If Graysen had been annoying at Nyx’s party yesterday, he’d been ever worse this evening because he’d scaled up the charisma and had seemed hell bent on befriending Azriel only to then become increasingly quietly irritated when Azriel made it clear that he was completely disinterested in anything that even remotely hinted at any sort of camaraderie.

He’d also taken to being even clingier with Elain. Hadn’t given her even a second to breathe all night, trailing behind her every chance he got, pulling her back into his side any time she strayed more than a few inches away. Even stranger, Elain had seemed intent on appeasing him and had stayed faithfully by Graysen’s side the entire time. She hadn’t even disappeared for a moment alone with Feyre and Nesta to talk about whatever the hell those three talked about whenever they were left alone together. All Azriel knew was that it usually resulted in raised voices, either in the form of an argument or incomprehensible half sentences interrupted by high pitched giggles as they all spoke over each other. 

Azriel saw Graysen’s overbearing behaviour for what it was - insecurity. 

Insecurity that came with a front row seat to the realisation that his prized girlfriend had an entire life before him. Without him. That she had family and friends that cared about her. 

Azriel had a feeling Elain’s life in Meadowview revolved heavily around Graysen. They probably spent time with his friends. Went to his favourite restaurants. Did his favourite activities. He wondered if she’d managed to retain any part of herself when she was halfway around the country, isolated in a bubble with Graysen, with no real escape other than her job. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to jump to conclusions, to assume that she hadn’t been able to maintain a sense of self. He hoped for the best, desperately wanted to be wrong, but he knew her too well to know that he most likely wasn’t far off.  

He wanted to talk to her about it to try and decipher for himself exactly how she was doing but he hadn’t been able to get her alone - either because she’d been avoiding him or because of the five foot ten, blonde, walking trust fund  who’d been glued to her hip for the past eight hours. 

That’s why when the lamp in the kitchen switched on, the soft golden glow illuminating the window over the sink, it felt like a prayer was answered. 

He didn’t know exactly how he knew that she’d been the source of that light or that she’d be the one to walk outside but he knew when he turned to look, she’d be there - hair gilded by the light behind her. It was something about the gentle way the storm door creaked open, the feather light footsteps against the wooden floorboards. Something about the even, familiar rhythm of her breath.

He’d managed to get in one last deep drag of his cigarette before she was standing beside him, close enough that her arm brushed his. She reached up, lazily taking the cigarette from his fingers. She studied it and for one singular moment, he wondered if she’d surprise them both and take it between her lips. But this was Elain and so all he could do was huff out an amused laugh as she frowned, letting the cigarette fall to the floor until she could snub it out with her slipper covered foot. 

“Filthy habit,” Elain muttered. 

It was only then that he really allowed himself to look at her. He was thankful for the little bit of light from the kitchen lamp as his eyes traveled from her feet and up her bare legs to the hint of lilac shorts that he could only see the ruffled hem of because they were largely covered by the sweatshirt that fell right down to the top of her thighs. 

It was a Velaris University sweatshirt that at one point had been black but now resembled a faded gray and included a smattering of tiny holes around the stretched out collar. That sweatshirt had been missing from his closet for the better part of a decade. She’d had it in her possession for so long that Azriel wasn’t entirely sure that she would even remember who its original owner had been. It’s why he didn’t let himself read too much into her wearing that particular sweatshirt while sharing a bed with someone else. 

His eyes continued their journey upwards, over those full lips and the perfect slope of her nose. All the way up to drowsy, brown eyes and the tousled hair that he hoped and prayed was just the result of a restless night’s sleep and not the other option that sprung  to mind. 

Her eyes were fixed on him, clearly drinking in the sight of him just like she’d done when he’d first walked into Nyx’s party. 

There was a beat of silence between them, neither of them really knowing where to begin now that they were alone together. 

“Hi.” Her voice was barely a squeak, nervous and high and he couldn’t stand it. Hated this awkwardness between them. Hated that she felt any level of unease around him. 

“Trouble sleeping?” He raised an eyebrow, offering her a slow, sleepy smile that he hoped would work to put her at ease. 

Satisfaction settled in his chest when he saw her shoulders relax a little, at least a fraction of the tension she held within her melting into the night. 

He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to place a hand on the back of her neck and slide his thumb around the knot he knew he’d find there. He resisted the temptation to tuck her hair behind her ear so he could see her face without it being half hidden in shadows. 

“Yeah,” Elain nodded. “Couldn’t get the fan to work and I need…”

“The white noise,” Azriel finished for her, another wave of satisfaction flowing through him at the first upward tilt of her lips. 

“What about you?” Elain asked, her gaze still focused straight ahead. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that,” He replied, schooling his expression into one that would hopefully hide the real reason he was awake. “At least it worked in my favour this time.”

“What do you mean?” 

“It means that I’ve been trying to get a minute alone with you for two days now.”

“Oh,” she bit her lip. “Well, yesterday was so busy with all the kids and then tonight has been a lot as well…• 

“Yeah,” Azriel laughed, leaning into her just enough for his arm to press against hers. It was meant to be an innocent, playful touch yet it still managed to send a spark straight down his spine. “It was the kids that were keeping us from talking and definitely not because you’ve been actively avoiding me.” 

“I didn't think it would be so obvious,” Elain groaned, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye. “I was hoping you wouldn't notice.”

“I notice everything about you, Lain.” He adjusted his stance slightly, pivoting at the waist so he was turned towards her. “Always have.” 

There was another second of silence as she looked away from him, nervously running a hand through her hair. “You can’t say things like that.”

“It’s true, though.” He shrugged, choosing to move on with the conversation before she could ruminate on that any further.“How have you been?”

“Thought you noticed everything about me.” He could practically hear her smirk even through the sleepy rasp of her voice and he loved it. Appreciated the fleeting moment of playfulness. Of normalcy. “Shouldn’t you know the answer?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“I’ve been good,” Elain still didn’t look at him. Her eyes were focused steadily, stubbornly ahead. “Meadowview is good. Work is good. Everything’s good.”

“Say good one more time and maybe I’ll believe you.” He hadn’t missed that she’d neglected to mention her boyfriend.

“Funny,” she rolled her eyes. “How have you been?” 

“Fine,” he shrugged. Then, before he could stop himself he asked her one of the questions that had been haunting him since last night. “Why have you never told me you didn’t like when I called you  ‘Lain?’” 

Elain paused, her brows furrowing. She clearly hadn’t expected that question from him. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Last night… Graysen said that you didn’t like it when he called you that. You said that you preferred to be called ‘El.’” 

She ducked her head, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as she looked down at her feet. A surefire sign she was embarrassed by something. “I only like it when it’s coming from you.” 

He bit back a smile, rocking back on his heels in an attempt to dull the sudden rush of emotion he felt at her admission. 

“Thank god.” He pressed a hand to his chest in a show of relief. “I’ve been worried that I’ve been unknowingly pissing you off for the past ten years.”

Azriel chuckled, teeth dragging over his lower lip as she turned to look at him. She gave him a wry smile and a shake of her head and though he wanted to live in this moment forever, he couldn’t put it off any longer, there were far more pressing matters to discuss.

“Lain,” Azriel let out a breath, his smile slipping into something more serious. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “If you’re upset or if I misread the situation that night, I’m sorry but just tell me so I can -”

“Azriel, we can’t.” She whispered, cutting him off before he could even get out everything he wanted and needed to say.

“What?”

“I can’t… we can’t talk about this.” Her voice was strained, her hands twisted in the cuffs of her sweater.

“We have to talk about it, Elain.” He insisted. “It’s been months of silence and we can’t keep going like this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she swallowed, shoulders once again tensing as she turned to face him. 

“You can’t be serious,” Azriel couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice. 

Even with such scarce lighting, he could see the blush that crept up her neck as she defensively crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“Nothing happened. It’s fine.” Elain said, her voice low. “It was just sex. We got caught up in the moment and that’s all it was.”

“Just sex,” Azriel shook his head. “You wouldn’t have left and stopped talking to me if it was just fucking sex.” 

He’d always prided himself on maintaining a mask of cool composure around other people but it always seemed to falter around Elain. He couldn’t hide from her. Had never felt the need to. This was no exception.

“I didn’t -”

“Don’t.” He interrupted her. “Whatever you’re about to say about not cutting me off or about things being fine between us, it’s absolute bullshit and you know it.” 

“Azriel,” Her voice broke, splitting his name into two halves. “I shouldn’t have left and I know that and I’m sorry but I just can’t…”

“Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Do you regret it?” He asked again, making a point to look directly at her. “Sleeping with me. Do you regret it?”

Azriel watched as she closed her eyes, one hand of hers coming up to clutch at her necklace as she took a deep breath. It felt like a lifetime before she finally spoke. 

“I only regret it in the sense that I can’t stop thinking about it.” He could barely hear her over the crickets and the frogs and whatever other nocturnal creatures occupied the field around his friends’ home. “I only regret it because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t make sense of her saying exactly what he’d hoped but never dreamed that she’d go as far as admitting it. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. It was involuntary, really… the way he reached for her. One arm extending, his hand mere inches from her hip. The tips of his fingers just grazed her sweatshirt before she stepped back, just out of his reach. 

“Az.” The pounding of his heart came to an abrupt stop in his chest as he watched her eyes fill with tears. “It happened and it was good and I promise you I don’t regret it but I can’t do this. We just can’t…” 

“Just tell me why you left then, Lain.” He pleaded. “Full, complete honesty. I just want to know why you left without saying anything. I thought - everything was fine when I fell asleep.” 

“It doesn’t matter now, Az.” She wiped away a stray tear. “What’s it going to solve? What’s done is done.”

“It does. I need to know. I need to understand.” 

“I don’t know why. I wish I did but I don’t...” she started. “I panicked and then I realised how awful I’d been for leaving like that and I thought you’d be upset.” She took another deep, wavering breath. “I thought you hated me.”

Her voice was once again so small, so timid. It shattered every part of him. 

“Elain,” Azriel reached up and tugged at his hair just so he had something to do with his hands. Too afraid that he’d reach for her again. “If I were capable of hating you, this would all be a whole lot easier.” 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, tears falling faster now. “I’m so sorry that it’s like this between us but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“I just want my friend back, Lain.” He said gently. “I’m not asking for anything more than to have you back in my life as my friend. I miss you so fucking much and if the only thing that’s stopping you from talking to me is what happened between us that night then we can forget it. If that’s what it takes, we can agree to pretend it never happened.”

“It’s not that easy. You know it. I know it. It’s been months and I can’t forget it.” She shook her head. “It’s just easier this way, Az. You and me… we just can’t be friends the way we were. Not right now at least.”

“You don’t mean that, Elain.” His nails dug into the palms of his hands. “I know that’s not what you want. Look me in the eye and tell me you mean it.”

He waited for her to seal their fate. To look him in the eye and tell him that she’d meant every word. That she really wanted nothing more to do with him. But she didn’t look him in the eye. Didn’t really look at him at all. She only stepped further back, her gaze fixed on some arbitrary spot above his right shoulder.

“I miss you, Azriel. More than you know.” Her voice broke as she began to turn away from him, walking towards the door. 

“Wait,” he followed behind her, his fingers closing around her wrist to stop her from reaching for the handle of the screen door. 

She didn’t pull away from him this time. Didn’t try to step back. She just twisted around to face him fully, her pulse rapid under his touch. 

“Do whatever you need to do.” The words left him in a rush. “ Go home, think about things. I can handle you being with someone else, I’ve done it for a decade… but please…. please don’t stay with someone that doesn’t make you happy just to prove a point to yourself or to me or to anyone else.”

There was another stretch of silence to accompany the crease that formed in between her eyebrows as she mulled over his words.

“Goodnight, Az.” She stepped forward, her chest against his. He released his grasp on her wrist  just in time to wrap his arms around her waist as she reached up on her toes and slung her arms loosely around his neck. Every part of her pressed against him for a split second. It was over before it began but he felt the cool, dampness of her tears against his cheek as her lips brushed his skin just once before she pulled back from the hug.

He let her go, his fingers slipping slowly from her skin. “Goodnight, Lain.”

Elain disappeared inside the house and the kitchen light flickered off a few seconds later. Azriel turned back around, sitting down on the porch step after pulling a stray cigarette and lighter out of his back pocket. He closed his eyes and counted to sixty. When he opened his eyes again, he was right back to what he’d been doing fifteen minutes ago, before she’d come outside. 

Once again, it was just him, the stars,and the dim light from the lit end of his cigarette. He didn’t know how long he stayed out there going over what just happened but he was still there, staring up at the sky and rehashing answers to questions he couldn’t decide if he regretted asking when the sun began to rise.

[sentientgolfball]

Burn Yourself Out

Happy Mountain March to those who celebrate, but especially to @hypnoneghoul

Third installment of this and this

Read here or on Ao3

Word Count: 2693

Tags: mean Mountain, blood, Mounty has complicated emotions, tiny bit of objectification if you squint

Summary: Mountain has a different reaction to the video from Sunshine and Aether. Swiss is there to help

Mountain stands and storms off to the bunks, growl low in his throat. Swiss’ eyes follow. 

“Come on Mounty don’t you wanna see the rest?” 

Mountain pauses in the doorway of the bunks. He slowly turns his head, throwing a look at Swiss. There’s an intensity in his green eyes that’s hardly ever seen. He disappears. Once he’s gone from view he slumps against the nearest bed, fighting to keep his glamour up. 

“You’re so fucked when we get to the hotel” he hears Cumulus laugh. 

Logically he knows it’s only one sleep and a flight that separates him from seeing Aether and Sunshine again but after seeing that no logical part of his brain is working. He was tired. He was pissed. He was hard. He couldn’t believe Aether would go along with something that was obviously a Sunshine plan. He couldn’t believe this is really what Aether thought was a good idea. 

Maybe he could though. Aether was just as filthy as the rest of them, he just had more patience. Mountain couldn’t fucking stand it. 

He was always said to be as immovable as his namesake, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure it took him awhile to get there, but oh when he did he was deadly and this had been building for months. Everyone seemed to forget Mountain knew Aether just as long as Dew, including Aether himself. Of course it was slightly different since the two were mated, but Mountain watched Aether get pulled from the Pits. Mountain was there when Aether made himself sick during Dew’s transition. Mountain was always there. 

Maybe it was his fault. Maybe if he had screamed and cried like Dew then Aether would’ve noticed the betrayal Mountain felt when he announced his retirement. Maybe if Mountain had appeared in his room the night before tour, sobbing and pleading it would be different. Instead Mountain had to comfort Dew. He had to watch as the two star crossed lovers ruined their sleep schedules to talk on the phone every night while Mountain was left in the dust. 

So when Mountain's name cracked through the phone speaker, falling so softly from Aether’s lips he couldn’t take it. He hated how hard it got him. He wanted to be pissed at Aether, wanted for once in his infernal life to not be the strong one, yet his body betrayed him. Now he wanted nothing more than to have Aether under him, writhing and begging him to stop. He closed his eyes and he could practically hear it. 

‘S too much Mount fuck…

If Aether forgot that Mountain missed him too, then he’d simply have to remind him. Part of him felt guilty for this, knowing everything Dew has been through but a more primal part of him couldn’t care less. For once he wanted his packmate all to himself. Greed was a sin Mountain rarely indulged in. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he hears Copia’s voice ring out.

“My ghouls we’ve arrived at the…” 

He was so distracted he hadn’t even noticed the bus had stopped moving. He growls, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palms as he forces his glamour back into place. His head snaps up when he hears someone approaching. 

“Hey Mount we’re at the…” the words die on Swiss’ tongue when he sees the state of the earth ghoul. 

Mountain has no idea what he looks like, but he knows it must be rough by the way Swiss immediately drops to kneel between his legs. Mountain can’t seem to find the strength to slap on a neutral expression. 

“What’s wrong clover?” 

Curse Swiss and his caring nature. Even when he’s so aroused Mountain can taste it on the air, he still has to care. Care is not what he needs right. What he needs is an outlet before he either disappears into the wild or finds a way to get his hands on Aether from a different continent. Or worse, get his hands on Dew. Dew is the last person he wants to be alone with right now. He would never intentionally hurt him, but with his patience crumbling he’s not sure what would come out of his mouth. Not sure what he’d do to him. 

Mountain regards Swiss for a moment. His Swiss. His eager, pliant, caring Swiss. He knows Swiss would do anything for him almost to a fault. He knows Swiss can take anything. He’s listened in on Swiss’ nights with the girls enough times. He knows he could break Swiss and the multi ghoul would just look at him and thank him. Mountain could just grab him by the throat and go whatever he wants. 

So he does. 

Mountain wraps his hand around his neck, squeezing slightly. Swiss lets out an involuntary groan, tilting his head back to look up at Mountain. 

“You’re mine to use tonight. However I want.” 

Swiss nods the best he can, a small grin pulling at his mouth “However you want baby.” 

Mountain throws him back so he can stand. Swiss lands on his back, staring up at his earth ghoul as he quickly stuffs some things into a bag for the night. When Mountain’s finished he yanks Swiss off the floor by the collar of his shirt, practically dragging him along as he leaves the bunk area. 

“Wait clover I need to grab my stuff.” 

“No. You don’t.” 

Mountain hauls him through the lounge and out of the bus. Swiss notices Dew and Rain make eye contact and nod as the fire ghoul and Phantom walk with hands intertwined. He briefly wonders who’s gonna have it worse, him or Phantom, before Mountain roughly yanks him out the door. Probably him. 

Once everyone is gathered in the lobby Copia returns with the keycards. He tries to give them to Mountain to dish out, but the moment he sees the look in his eyes he immediately turns to Cirrus. She keeps one for herself, not even giving the other ghoulettes the chance to discuss placement. She smirks at Aurora causing her to blush violently. Cumulus hits her on the arm mumbling a ‘play nice’. Mountain takes his key and grabs Swiss’ wrist, dragging him to the elevator with little resistance. Swiss is both concerned and incredibly turned on by this shift in Mountain’s attitude. 

When Dew and Phantom weasel their way into the elevator alongside them Mountain fights everything in him to not acknowledge the two. Swiss bounces from one foot to the other as it rises, trying to anticipate what Mountain is going to do to him. Phantom shoots Mountain a curious glance. For a brief moment Mountain feels guilt for letting the little new summon see him like this, but the moment the door opens it dissipates. He pushes past the two smaller ghouls, Swiss in tow. Dew stays hot on their heels forcing Phantom to speed up to stay together. 

They get to the end of the hallway and stop. Their rooms are right across from each other. Phantom stares at the way Mountain opens the door and shoves Swiss inside. The door barely has time to close before Mountain roughly shoves Swiss into it. His glamour melts instantly as he crashes his lips into the multi ghoul’s.

 It’s immediately vicious. Mountain bites his lip, shoving his tongue down his throat when he gasps at the feeling of fang breaking skin. Swiss tries to thread his fingers through Mountain’s hair, but the moment he moves he’s grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the door. He hisses against Mountain’s lips when he feels his claws digging into his skin. Mountain sucks Swiss’ lip into his mouth, greedily drinking down the blood until it stops flowing. 

Mountain drops his wrists and pulls back. His eyes rake over Swiss and groans at the sight. His lips are shiny and kiss swollen, there’s a mix of drool and blood dribbling down his chin,  his eyes are half lidded and hazy already. 

“Strip” Mountain’s voice rumbles low, eyes narrowing. 

Swiss scrambles to comply, ripping his muscle tee and sweatpants off as fast as he physically can. 

“What now big guy?” He grins, unable to help the teasing tilt to his voice. 

Mountain grabs him by the horn and pulls him to the bed. He throws Swiss back onto it before ripping his own clothes off and crawling between his legs. He presses a hand to his chest, holding him down. He presses bruising kisses along his jaw and down his neck, adding more pressure to Swiss’ chest when he starts to twitch and writhe beneath him. 

“Sit still” Mountain growls before biting at his neck. 

Swiss’ wince turns into a moan when Mountain drags his tongue up the little line of blood to suck at the wound. He savors the electrifying taste of his multi ghoul, letting it wash down his throat to calm the quake in his head. He presses more of his body onto Swiss, breathing heavily through his nose when he feels his dick pressing against his stomach. He closed his eyes as he wrapped his massive hand around Swiss’ cock, giving it a squeeze before stroking. 

“Mountain” Swiss huffed, hips fruitlessly twitching under the weight of the earth ghoul. 

He knew it was his multi ghoul under him, but in that moment all he heard was Aether. All he could hear and see was that fucking video. He felt the last of his patience, the last of his control, split. He needed his brain to be turned off. To hell with getting banned from another hotel. 

Mountain was usually so careful, never fucking the way he wanted. He never wanted to hurt anyone even if they asked for it, even if they insisted they could take it. Aether was the only one he had ever tested those waters with. It’s amazing what a little bit of quintessence can do to the body and mind.

But Aether wasn’t here.

Aether.

Mountain couldn’t hear Swiss’ pleas over the sound of Aether’s breathy call of his name. Mountain couldn’t see the way Swiss was shaking through the hazy memory of the clip of Sunny fucking into Aether.

Mountain pulls away from Swiss’ neck, a dribble of blood adorning his mouth. He flips him over with ease, like repositioning a toy rather than a living being. He growls low in his throat as he positions the head of his cock at Swiss’ waiting hole.

“Wait wait wait you know I love your dick as much as the next ghoul but Mounty I think you’re forgetting something” Swiss stammers “lube Mounty. Lube.” 

Mountain doesn’t respond. He starts to push the tip in.

“Mount I’m serious. We have a 12 hour flight tomorrow. I kinda need my ass in one piece.”

The only warning Swiss gets before Mountain shoves his cock into him is a low growl of “You’re taking it” followed by the feeling of spit hitting his asshole. Swiss is coherent enough to will his quintessence to the surface before Mountain snaps his hips forward, burying himself inside. 

It’s not enough though. Swiss screams, unglamoured claws tearing through the hotel sheets at the painful stretch. Mountain is gracious enough to give him a moment to adjust before pulling back out. He roughly pulls Swiss’ hips up with one hand, shoving his face into the pillows with the other before slamming back into him. He sets a fast, rhythmic pace, one he’s only ever been able to chase with toys. 

Swiss is limp underneath him. He’s trying to focus more quint into his body, trying to focus on the feeling of Mountain’s cock hitting his prostate rather than the burn of his hole. He can’t do anything but lay there and take it with tears streaming down his face. He’s barely aware of the taste of blood coating his tongue from where the wound on his lip reopened. It’s moments like these he wishes he paid more attention when he was being taught about his different elements, maybe then he’d be able to produce his own slick like a full fledged water ghoul. 

Swiss’ prayers are slowly answered though, the amount of pre dribbling out of Mountain’s cock starts to coat both of them. The burning starts to fade and Swiss finally feels like he’s coming back into his body. He can hear Mountain grunting over his own whimpers. 

Mountain falls to his forearms, draping himself on Swiss’ back. He buries his face into his necks breathing in his mixed elemental scent. Swiss can feel him drooling against his skin as his thrusts turn into a grind. He’s not even pulling out anymore, resolute to keep his cock as deep as he can inside of him. Every movement from him forces the air from Swiss’ lungs. He feels like he can’t breathe with Mountain’s whole weight pressing him into the mattress but he couldn’t care less. The feeling of Mountain taking what he needs the way he needs it is too good. 

“Mount…” Swiss whines. 

“Take it. Take all of me. 

“Gonna cum.” 

“Then fucking cum I don’t care” he bites his shoulder, grinding deeper. 

Swiss moans and shutters as his orgasm hits him, wet warmth coating the sheets and his belly. Mountain grunts feeling Swiss clench around him. He tries to hold off, tries to hold everything in, but he can’t. Not with Swiss pulsing, trying to buck back against him and panting his name. He pushes in as deep as he possibly can and spills, hips twitching with every wave that washes over him. 

He goes boneless on top of Swiss, panting heavily trying to catch his breath. He stays buried in Swiss until his cock softens and slips out, dribbles of cum following. After a moment of silence Swiss makes a noise. 

“Mount I love you but I can’t breathe.”

Mountain rolls off of him with a groan. Swiss turns his head to look at him with a loopy grin. 

“Feel better now, clover?” 

Mountain doesn’t say anything as he stands, crossing to the other side of the bed and scooping Swiss up. He hisses, aches taking over his entire body. Mountain already has the feeling they won’t be invited back to this hotel so he decides running up the hot water isn’t a concern. Mountain leans against the wall of the shower, holding Swiss while the water sprays them. Swiss is practically asleep in his arms by the time he turns the water off. Mountain dries both of them, carrying Swiss back to bed. He doesn’t bother with getting dressed. 

They lay in silence, Mountain rubbing Swiss’ back and pressing soft kisses between his horns. 

Mountain coughs “thank you.” 

“Huh?” Swiss looks at him with sleepy eyes. 

“Thank you for letting me get that out of my system.” 

“Fuck Mounty I’d let you rip my throat out if that’s what you wanted. You don’t have to thank me love. Plus it was really fucking hot.” 

Mountain blushes and shrugs, burying his face in Swiss’ hair. 

Swiss yawns “But promise me one thing.” 

“Anything.” 

“You’re telling me what the fuck got into you tomorrow. I don’t wanna have my favorite flower wilting.” 

Mountain chuffs low in his chest “Alright. Fair is fair. Get some sleep spark.” 

Swiss is out before Mountain can even finish his sentence. He pulls the covers up over them, repositioning Swiss so his nose is buried in his neck. Mountain holds him close, slowly drifting off. 

Until his phone pings. 

He sighs, using his tail to grab it off the nightstand. He’s prepared to see a text from Copia telling them they need to leave. What he’s not prepared for is a text from Cirrus in the groupchat with a photo of Aurora attached. He contemplates opening for a moment but ultimately decides he does not have the brain space for ghoulette shenanigans right now. He puts his back and down and closes his eyes, pretending to be blissfully unaware of the sound of whimpers from the next room. 

Well, at least he wouldn’t be the only reason they’re getting banned. 

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | chapter 6: on my own

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 4.8k

chapter warnings: jealousy (? not really a warning, but i'll include it anyway)

a/n: i was blown away by the response for chapter 5 (and the rest of the fic too). thank you everyone so much!! can't believe that we're already past the halfway point of tenderness, hope that everyone continues to enjoy it!

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It feels like you’ve barely fallen asleep by the time that your alarm wakes you. The hum of Charge between you and Chan is faint through the layers of clothing that you wear. For once, it doesn’t bring you any comfort. Although the two of you had maintained physical contact throughout the night, it feels like you’re miles away compared to the previous nights that you’ve spent curled around each other. You have no idea when he had finally gotten back to the dorms even though you had a fitful sleep.

The second you extricate yourself from the sheets and break contact from Chan, your stomach drops. Exhaustion seeps into you and you have to steady yourself on your bedside table to avoid losing your balance. In his sleep, Chan shifts, rolling towards the warm spot where you were previously lying, but doesn’t wake up. Remembering what happened last night makes things worse, so you do your best to compartmentalise it so that you can focus on the day ahead. One day with less sleep and less Charge can't hurt you, you think to yourself.

When you check the time on your phone, you realise that you must have slept through your first alarm and you’re going to be late if you don’t leave in 15 minutes. The adrenaline is enough to fully wake you up and you stumble to the bathroom in the dark. Somehow, after getting ready as fast as you can without waking anybody, you make it to the company in time. You’re lucky that the early hours mean that transiting was smoother than usual and you didn’t have to fight your way onto the bus. 

You unpack your things at your desk and head down to the room that was booked for the interviews planned for the day. The bright studio lighting that has already been set up exacerbates a pounding in your head that you hadn’t noticed before, but you ignore it to greet the staff that are already there.

When Eunsung enters the room and sees you, concern immediately creeps into his expression. He sidles up to you and bumps your shoulder with his.

“Rough night?”

You lean in close to him and whisper as if sharing a secret, "stayed up late rewatching a drama."

"Ah," Eunsung nods, immediately accepting your lie at face value. "Which one?"

"Moonlight Lovers. Last few episodes."

"Say no more. I've never been able to watch that without shedding a tear." You both laugh at that, knowing Eunsung could cry at a sad commercial. You don't know if he believes your story, but you're just grateful that he's playing along that nothing is wrong. He knows better than to prod too much, it’s a sure way to get you to instead close down even more.

"Is it really that obvious?" you ask quietly, fingers reaching up to poke the eye bags that you had hastily covered up this morning. You’re pretty sure that last night you had done a decent enough job making sure that your eyes wouldn’t be swollen today, but hadn’t had a chance to look at it carefully. Since you had barely enough time to get ready, you had hoped that you might be able to touch up your makeup more before starting work, but had been swept away in preparations the second you had arrived.

"No, I just know you too well." He laughs when you swat his shoulder half-heartedly.

The boys file into the room right after you’re finishing getting everything ready, but before you have a chance to leave the room. You smile and greet them with the rest of the staff, but studiously avoid looking at Chan. Just the brief glance when he had first walked in had stung. He looked… normal. Maybe a bit tired, but he always looked tired and well, that was what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

Maybe to him, last night was just another night and you were being too sensitive. But his harsh words had reopened a wound in you that you thought had long scarred over. Somehow, it hurt even more thinking that he was totally unaffected.

You quickly try to pack up everything you need, handing out a timeline of the day to the team who are helping film that outlined which interview is for which company, what props, if any, are required, and whether or not a company representative would be present to help facilitate the interview. You make sure Eunsung has a copy of all the questions that Stray Kids are supposed to be asked and which are off limits, both in English and Korean. Almost all of the members are familiar enough with English that the interviews go smoothly without any other help, but a lot of the staff aren’t as fluent. You have a quick chat with the company translator and make sure she’s also comfortable with the schedule and what’s expected of her.

After making sure that everything on your checklist has been completed, you finally grab your things and leave, almost colliding with Felix in the hallway.

“Oh, you’re not staying, Y/n?” He asks, grabbing onto your arms to steady both of you. He smiles at you and you return it but look away quickly, not wanting to meet his eyes, and shrug off his hands.

“Sorry, I have some meetings that I can’t miss this morning. I hope the interviews go well Felix-ssi!” you call as you head to the elevator. When you glance back, his smile has faltered and he’s still standing in the hallway, looking a bit lost.

You’re not sure if he’s more surprised that you’re not going to be attending the schedule or your sudden return to addressing him formally. You had done your best to keep things more professional while at the company, but it had been surprisingly difficult, especially when most other managers also addressed the members more casually.

You feel a bit guilty, but last night had served as an important reminder that no matter how close you seemed or felt, you were still just staff. This time, you won't forget your place.

—

When you finally get back to your desk and open up your laptop after finishing all your meetings for the morning, you despair at the number of emails that have piled up in your absence. You start to sift through them, filing away the ones that don’t require any response. It’s probably a good thing that you’re not in a hurry to see Chan or any of the members, there’s a lot of work that you have to do in the next few days and not enough time to be distracted by attending schedules.

Your phone pings and you see a message from Eunsung waiting.

[12:14 pm - received]

lunch?

Huh, you hadn’t even realised it was already noon. Even though you hadn’t had a chance to eat this morning, you still don’t have much of an appetite. So far, tea has been enough to sustain you as well as provide the much needed caffeine after your late night. You’d had enough foresight to throw a protein bar into your bag before you left, but it still sits untouched on the side of your desk. You know that you should probably eat to help make up for the Charge that you missed last night, but you can't bring yourself to take a bite. Just looking at the bar is enough to make you nauseous so there's no way that you'd be able to stomach any other food. 

[12:15 pm - sent]

sorry. have a mountain of work to do so i don’t have time today

[12:15 pm - received]

:(

want me to bring something to you?

[12:17 pm - sent]

no thanks! i’m fine for now

[12:17 pm - received]

:(

you sure?

[12:19 pm - sent]

please do not bring me anything.

[12:19 pm - received]

:(

:(((

:((((((((

Amused, you lock and put away your phone and focus on your work. You really are scrambling to finish everything and probably wouldn't have taken a break even in normal circumstances. 

Only 15 minutes have passed before there’s a knock at the door. Nobody else is using this work area today and you’ve learned over the years that Eunsung is one of the most persistent people you know.

“Oppa,” you whine, not bothering to look away from your screen. “I told you I didn’t need anything for lunch.”

“Uhm.” Your neck hurts with the speed that you whip your head around to look. Chan’s standing halfway through the open door, looking out of his depth. 

He’s still in his outfit for the press junket, hair carefully styled and makeup immaculate. He looks like a different person. Sometimes you forget that the bare-faced, curly-haired boy in shorts and a hoodie that you’re used to is the same as the polished idol that is presented in front of the camera. He seems so far away, even though he’s right in front of you.

“Sorry, I thought you were Eunsung-oppa. He was… teasing me earlier,” you explain, embarrassed.

"Ah," he says. "You didn't eat yet?"

“Not yet, I’ll get something later,” you lie. “I have a lot of work to do.”

"Oh, okay. We have a break right now. I wanted to talk." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “About… you know. Yesterday.”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, forcing yourself to smile. You try to stay concentrated on the email that you have to send, but it’s hard enough to think of the right English words to use when you're alone. Instead, you stare at the blinking text cursor, already wanting this conversation to be over. Maybe it was better when you thought he didn’t care about what he had said to you.

“No, it’s not fine. I shouldn’t have said all those things. I was too harsh. I hurt you. I'm sorry,” he insists, stepping closer. 

You finally turn to look back at him, but still can't get yourself to look him in the eye, instead focusing on the cut of his jaw. His hair has grown long enough that curls are starting to gather below his ear even after styling. You wonder how long it will be until the stylists are able to wrestle him away from his laptop and into a chair to cut it again.

“Okay. It’s not fine,” you concede. “But I forgive you. I understand that you felt frustrated. I can tell that you’ve been wanting to talk for a while and I’m glad that I know how you feel now. The delivery was just… poor, but it’s really not a big deal.” 

That's not a lie, but your fingers start to curl into your palm anyway, nails digging into the flesh there. The tiny pricks of pain ground you, not stopping the hurt that came from Chan's words from echoing in your head like they had been the whole day, but distracting you from it. 

I don’t need you bringing me food. I don’t need you reminding me about schedules. And I definitely don’t need or want you telling me when I should be resting. 

It stung, especially knowing what he really meant when he said that. 

I don't need you. 

Looking back, you could see how you were acting overbearing. Yes, there was a soulmate bond connecting you two, but really that didn’t give you permission to act in such a familiar way. More than anything else he had mentioned, it had left a bitter taste in your mouth that he compared you to your eomoni when he now had the insight that your relationship with her had caused you so much pain. It hurt even more to think that maybe that was the reason he had mentioned her, that you had been that much of a burden.  

No matter what he argues now, there was truth in what he said in the heat of the moment, frustration and lack of sleep bringing forth his honest thoughts. 

I’m good now! I’m really good now. I was also good when you were not here. When you were not my soulmate.

You had never really considered what things would be like if you weren’t soulmates, there had been no point in it. Well, you hadn’t considered it until yesterday. After half an hour of trying to sleep with no sign of Chan returning, you had rolled onto your side and reached for your phone. With shaky fingers, you had pulled up Naver and typed in 'can you break a soulmate bond.'

The results had confirmed what you thought. There was no evidence of a bond being broken before. Of course, it was possible for soulmates to live apart from each other for extended periods of time. It just required more food, more water, more rest for both people in order to compensate. That seemed even more inconvenient than the current situation and you knew it would never work for you and Chan. 

This was the next best solution. You promised yourself that he wouldn't have to pretend that he wanted you around anymore. You'd keep your distance, stay professional, just like you had done before your First Touch. 

“It’s not how I feel, I was just-” Chan protests.

“Chan-ssi,” you interrupt gently, hiding your feelings by reverting back to the formal speech that you had used when you first met. He blinks in surprise. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m really okay.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I do. I wanted to clear up everything. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was stressed.” He explains, cheeks slowly turning pink. “There was just a lot happening and then you were there and I don’t know what happened. I really really shouldn’t have yelled. It won’t happen again.”

“I believe you,” you say. “Thank you for apologising. You can go now.”

Maybe it’s a bit harsh as Chan visibly blanches, before his expression is wiped clean.

“Oh, okay.” 

“Sorry,” you say, making sure to soften your voice. “I just. I really do have a lot that I have to finish right now. I appreciate that you came to talk to me, though. I’ll see you later.”

“Right, see you later.” Chan echoes faintly and turns towards the door. After it closes, there’s a long pause before you finally hear his footsteps resume.

—

The rest of the weeks before you leave for Japan seem to somehow simultaneously crawl by and pass in a flash. You’re frustrated by how unproductive you feel like you are at work compared to the amount of things you have to do because you keep getting distracted, but once you’re off, there’s nothing that you want to do. You spend an disconcerting amount of time catching yourself staring at your phone not realising it has already timed out and all you’re looking at is a black screen.

When you confess this to Eunsung, he starts dragging you out for dinner with the rest of the team. It keeps you busy and you have fun in the moment, but every time you get back to the dorms, the emptiness that has been plaguing you creeps back in.

It’s the same today. When you enter your room, there’s no sign of Chan other than the clothes that he was wearing earlier sitting on a pile on his side of the bed. 

It’s no surprise to you, he’s been alternating between being out late at night, either in the studio or working out, or hunched over his laptop with his headphones on. You’ve gotten used to it by now and honestly don’t mind the decreasing number of interactions that you’ve had. On the surface, things are fine between the two of you, but everything is stilted in a way that it wasn’t before. Your relationship, whatever it was prior to that night in Chan's studio, has been strained and you don’t want to do anything to test the breaking point.

You shower quickly and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. When you pass through the living room, Felix is sprawled out on the couch, doing something on his phone. He straightens, legs falling back to the floor when he sees you.

“Hey stranger,” you greet him, instinctively smiling. In the safety of the dorms, with his hair fluffed up to form a dandelion puff around his head, you can’t help but treat Felix with the warm familiarity that you’ve tried to restrain the past few weeks. You had been friends with him way before the mess of your relationship with Chan and you feel guilty every time you see him at the company.

“Y/n! It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. How have you been?” You make a face at that.

“Work is crazy, you know. I think I’ve been dreaming about planning the tour, it’s basically all I think about these days.” You shrug. “But I can’t complain, I really like doing this and it’s not like you guys are spending the days relaxing. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” You abandon your task of getting water and settle beside Felix who puts an arm around your shoulders to tug you closer.

“I miss you,” Felix says quietly. “I know that you don't have time to come to our schedules anymore, but I miss having you there.”

“Aw, Felix. I miss you too. You can always come and find me, I’m never going to be far.” You wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on chest. You don't tell him that it was more a choice by you rather than time constraints that led you to stop attending schedules. Felix is well intentioned, but you know he would immediately confront Chan if he found out that you weren't as 'okay' as you had assured Chan and that would just make things worse. You don't want to be more of a bother than you already are.

“What were you doing on your phone?” you ask after a moment of silence. Felix picks back up his phone and unlocks it. He has to turn it horizontal to properly show you the screen and the motion means that his arms encircle you.

“It’s a new game I’ve been playing,” he explains. “I’m still not that good, but it’s been fun! I thought Hannie would be around to play with me, but I think he’s still at the company.”

“Show me how it works,” you prompt him. You aren’t really interested in mobile games, but are rewarded when his face lights up. He starts by giving a quick tutorial of the game and showing off all the characters he plays as, before continuing on where he had left off.

The steady beat of Felix’s heart combined with the gentle rumble of his commentary and the constant exhaustion that plagues you these days easily lulls you into a semi-conscious state. You’re not quite fully asleep, but only partially aware of what’s going on around you. You keep thinking that you should get up so that Felix isn't stuck on this couch with you, but can't muster up the energy to actually move.

Eventually, you hear the front door open and footsteps pad towards the two of you.

“Is she sleeping?” a voice that isn’t Felix’s whispers.

“Yeah, she must have been pretty tired, hyung. I think she fell asleep almost an hour ago.”

“Thanks for taking care of her, Lix. I’ll bring her back to our room.”

A pair of hands ease under you and shifts your weight from Felix and into the person’s arms. The Charge sparks to life and you can’t help but lean into the comforting buzz, nestling into the warm hold.

It must be Chan, you think blearily. 

You want to protest that you can walk yourself, that you don’t have to be carried back, but the Charge feels so good and so safe that you just relax further. It’s only a short walk down the hall, but the gentle rocking puts you back to sleep before you reach the bed.

—

Trying to balance concert practice, promotional photoshoots, and getting approvals for the next comeback means that it takes Chan an embarrassing amount of time to notice that something’s off.

It starts with the little things.

In between filming for a dance practice video, the members get a short break. Everybody collapses in different parts of the room, only getting up when a staff member enters with a couple trays of drinks. A small crowd forms and Chan waits until everyone else has taken their pick before heading over. He’s disappointed to find that there’s only iced americanos left. When he instead goes to fill his water bottle, he finds Felix already at the fountain.

“You didn’t get a drink?” Chan asks. Felix scrunches up his nose in response.

“They only had coffee today.”

“Don’t they usually have other options? I thought you’ve been getting that fruit tea these days.”

“That’s only when Y/n is organising the order. She always tries to get me things I like.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her.” 

“Come on, hyung, you’re the one that’s her soulmate, shouldn’t you know this? She’s the only one that remembers to get that weird custom protein chocolate smoothie thing that you always drink.” 

“I-” Chan stops to think. It’s true that he had been favouring a strange specialised order from one of the cafes that they usually get drinks from. He had stopped by there one afternoon when he had been in the area, then mentioned it off-handedly when eating lunch with the team and from then on it had appeared at a lot of their schedules. Most of the time, a staff member’s phone gets passed around to order their drinks or they just get served a variety of drinks to pick over, but now that he’s trying to recall, it’s been a while since either of those have happened. 

He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, he’d just been happy to have a drink that he liked. He hadn’t even realised that Y/n was the one behind their personalised orders, but feels off-kilter knowing that he had never thanked her for it.

—

Y/n hasn’t attended Channie’s Room in weeks either. Chan knows that everyone on her team has been scrambling with work related to the international legs of the tour, but even with a heavy workload, Y/n had never missed an episode before. Having her in the room had been a quiet comfort that Chan hadn’t appreciated at the time as much as he should have. 

He misses her.

It doesn’t feel the same. Chan finds himself playing a song and turning slightly to see what Y/n’s reaction is, or reading out a silly pick up line and then feeling his smile drop a little bit when he realises Y/n wasn’t there to hear it.

He’d like to say that he’s playing it off well, but Stays can see it too. It’s almost embarrassing how fast they catch on. The comments that scroll by, most of them too fast for Chan to read, are getting increasingly concerned for him. Where previously they had spammed messages about how happy he seemed, they’re now pointing out that he looks tired, that something is different. After enough people tell him to eat more or get more rest, he just ends the stream, annoyed and guilty at the same time.

—

Another time, Chan’s spending the evening in his studio with Changbin and Jisung, trying to finalise a guide for one of the tracks they’re planning to record.

“Oh hey, I didn’t know noona was close with Minyoung,” Jisung says. When Changbin makes a noise of interest from where he’s sitting beside Chan, Jisung flips around his phone to show them an Instagram story that Minyoung, one of their stylists, had posted. Y/n, Minyoung, Eunsung, and a number of other people are crammed together in a booth at a dimly lit restaurant. They’re all smiling widely.

Chan looks a little too long at the way that Eunsung’s arm is slung around Y/n. Even after Jisung takes his phone back, Chan keeps thinking of how natural it looked, Eunsung at the perfect height so Y/n could rest her head against him, his hand curled around her shoulder, pressing her tightly against his side.

He can't remember the last time he saw Y/n smile like that.

“It makes sense,” Changbin comments. “Y/n hasn’t been spending as much time in the dorms lately, but the tour is coming up so close. I’ve heard that her team has been going out a lot to try to keep up morale and get to know each other before we leave. It’d probably be suspicious if she keeps cancelling."

"I wish we could have team bonding dinners to keep up morale before the tour." Jisung pouts.

"That's what this is!" Changbin gestures towards the spread of empty takeout containers that fill Chan's desk.

"That's the dinner part, where's the bonding, hyung?"

In response, Changbin immediately pulls Jisung into a headlock causing him to shout.

"Don't you feel closer to me now?" Changbin looks up at where Chan is zoned out. "Hyung, don't we look close?"

"Uh, yeah. Super close. Can we just focus on finishing this guide first and leave the bonding for later? I promised that we'd send it for review by tonight."

Contrary to his words, Chan’s thoughts continually wander, straying to the blurry image of Y/n. They get the guide sent off, but Chan's not fully satisfied and he can tell the others agree.

He doesn’t know what's wrong with him.

—

Really, Chan should have known that something is up the evening he finds Felix over at their dorms.

A flare of something curls in his stomach at the sight of Y/n curled up against Felix. When she turns her head, nuzzling his chest, that something becomes a sharp twist of emotion, one that Chan still isn’t able to identify. 

He knows that Felix is strong enough to carry her to bed, but still steps in and scoops her up before he can make an attempt to get up. He lays her down on her side of the bed as gently as he can, but her face still scrunches up when he lets go of her. He cups her cheek until her expression smooths out, then steps back. 

When he returns to the living room, he joins Felix on the couch and they stare ahead at the darkened screen of the TV for a moment. Chan can tell that Felix has something he wants to say.

“Do you think she’s been working too much, hyung?” Felix finally asks in a hushed voice.

“What do you mean?”

“It just seems like she hasn’t been well recently. I don't know if something happened or if she just hasn't been getting enough rest.” 

“It’s probably her job,” Chan says noncommittally. He's definitely not thinking about a late night in his studio a few weeks ago. "Everyone has been busy these days.”

“Hyung,” he says tentatively. “You’ve been working a lot lately too, we’re a bit concerned-”

“What is this, some sort of intervention?” Chan’s not quite sure where the sudden burst of irritation is from, but it seems to be a common occurrence these days. “First Y/n, then I can’t get Stays off my back, and now you? Why is everyone ganging up on me so much?”

“No, it’s-”

“Felix! Just leave it, okay?" Shaking his head in frustration, Chan stalks back to his room.

Sitting heavily on the bed, he buries his face in his hands and lets out a deep breath to calm himself. Luckily he didn't wake Y/n during his conversation with Felix and he takes the time to study her for a moment.

He has to admit that Felix is right, under her eyes are shadows that never used to be there and even in her sleep, she's not fully relaxed. It's just for the next few days, he tells himself. After my deadlines have passed and once the concerts resume then we'll both be less busy and have the time to focus on each other.

In the meantime, he slides under the covers until he's right behind Y/n. He loops his arm around her waist, then pulls her closer, relieved when he sees that the tension in her body drains away.

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[historybunnny]

𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 "𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘦" 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥

Dear Marmee,

The bitter cold crept in slowly at first but there is no denying winter has arrived here in Wales. Everything is now covered in a sheet of white snow.

Every morning, I wake before the rooster's crow. Our friend Beth has moved in with us and she enjoys knitting very much. She has knitted me two new sweaters before Christmas has even come and they keep me much warmer than my worn-out coat from last Winter. It's a good thing too 'cause there's still much to be done on our farm, though I've made a rather decent amount of progress.

Even so, we hardly had any remaining produce leftover for ourselves after selling what I was able to salvage from our terrible blight. I won't burden you too much with our troubles but things have been rough here for us and I know Winifred is silently troubling herself over it.

You mentioned Jo is trying to get published? Please let me know how that goes for her. I think it might just inspire Winifred who is still glued to her typewriter whenever she has the time to write.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely, Lawrence

Dear Marmee,

I'm sorry to hear Jo was turned down in her quest to get published. Hopefully it won't discourage her from trying. Have you heard from Amy in Paris? How are Meg and Mr. Brooks? How does Beth like teaching piano?

Many of our animals, including the thorn in my side, Frank the Goose, passed on near the end of November. Without their eggs and milk to sell, money is tighter than ever.

Winifred has begun fretting over how we will make a good Christmas for Ozzy. So I've started working at the pub again to help us make it through the rest of winter and afford a few gifts for him. I'm struggling to come up with an idea on what to get Winifred, after all, how could I top her typewriter? If you have any ideas, please include them in your next letter.

Ozzy is doing quite well, thank you for asking. He likes to "help" me on the farm but mostly he enjoys playing in the snow with the garden shovels and trying to escape to our small pond. You would not believe the tantrums he throws when I have to wrangle him away from the edge. I can almost understand how my Father felt when I was a boy and he would paddle my bottom. The boy is like a fish the way he enjoys the water! Even bathtime seems to be his favorite part about bedtime.

It was a struggle to get him out of his crib and into a real bed but we needed to complete the transition before our new little one arrives. With Beth here to teach us patience, I can proudly declare we have finally succeeded.

Sincerely, Lawrence

Dear Marmee,

We're approaching our due date rather quickly, a little under 3 months now. Millie has been staying with Louise for the Winter (and giving her free cooking lessons) after agreeing to stay and help Winifred deliver the baby, which I'm thankful for. I know this is a huge relief for Winifred. Her last delivery was not without complications and I know she grows uneasy the closer we get.

I know Winifred believes the baby will be a girl but I have my own suspicions we will welcome another son. I'm not wholly certain I could handle another little girl after we lost Flora. Not yet, rather. The pain of losing a child never truly leaves, does it?

I did not mean to ignore your inquiry over how I'm fairing. I must keep a courageous face for my family, and consequently I've grown used to wearing my mask of gallantry. Since you so kindly asked though, I will admit that I am a little worn down as of late.

I spend long hours tending the farm and go to work even longer hours in the pub. Valerie, good hearted as she is, is not the best co-worker, often drinking herself stupid before the nights out. I suppose it's true what they say about you Irish folk.

Most of my trouble comes from myself, I suppose. I watched my father save this very farm many times over and I should want to do the same. But with every plant that refused to sprout, I found myself resentful over having ever inherited it.

I think of my wife, the writer, the poet, and how she is able to read Ozzy her stories. I think of Jackson with his pub, and his son, Patrick, who's becoming a doctor, and you with your bookshop. Even my father who provided my mother and I with food, and a roof over our heads because he cared for the farm so tenderly. All of you, with such passion.

Even if I was as passionate as my father, the farming industry is changing. All these extravagant advancements are putting farmers out of work all over. If the farm were to go under, what would I do? It's all I've ever known.

If I don't have time to write before Christmas Day - I hope you have a Merry Christmas. Send my love to your girls and wish them the same for me as well.

Sincerely, Lawrence

P.S. Don't be cross with me for the joke, I only say it in jest. The Irish could drink me under the table any day of the week and sing a merry tune whilst doing so which is rather remarkable.

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[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 15: PAINFUL RE:BAKE - Episode 24: The Things You Have To Do

eng proofreading by myuntachis!

Sakyo: … Is that good?

Gaku: It’s perfect! Oh, man~! Thanks!

Gaku: Lots of the members of my club watch this anime, they’re gonna be SO jealous!

Sakyo: The boxing was also depicted pretty realistically.

Gaku: Ah! I’d also like a handshake!

Sakyo: I don’t mind but, you’re exaggerating now…

Gaku: Omi-nii, take a pic!

Omi: Yeah, I’ll do that.

Sakyo: You sure we can make a pro do that?

Omi: Ahaha, well, since we have the chance.

Kai: Omi-nii, is this much soy sauce okay?

Omi: Yeah, that's good.

Kai: By the way, that anime is popular in my club too.

Kai: Everyone was surprised when I told them an acquaintance of mine appeared as a voice actor.

Kai: So, I’d like one more autograph to display in the rugby club’s room… And dad said he wants one too, so make that two more autographs…

Omi: Hey now–

Sakyo: I don’t mind. It’s a small price to pay for the dinner you guys are making for me.

Omi: But still.

-

Kai: I’m sorry for serving you such simple dishes…

Sakyo: Nah, this is more than enough. You take after your brother in the cooking department, huh?

Omi: You can take a seat over there, Sakyo-san.

Sakyo: Thanks.

Omi: Again, thank you so much for making time to come to my family home.

Omi: Though, I told them I’d just bring the autographs myself…

Gaku: I mean, if I got a chance to hear that voice live, of course I’d ask for it~!

Gaku: He was just a guest actor, but everyone agrees his character was the best!

Sakyo: You started uni this year, didn’t you?

Gaku: Yes! I’ve been doing boxing since high school, so I joined my uni’s boxing club too!

Gaku: I was a senior till last year, but now I’m suddenly one of the youngest members, the transition’s been rough~

Kai: You’re the kinda kid seniors love doting on, so it’s fine. You didn’t even feel like a senior last year.

Gaku: That is SO not true! My juniors all cried and said they’d miss me when I graduated, I was a good and proper senior to ‘em!

Gaku: Oh!

Gaku: That reminds me, I gotta treat ‘em sometime, as thanks for helping Omi-nii with that thing he’s been looking into–

Sakyo: What’s he been looking into?

Omi: It’s no big deal. Kai, shouldn’t you be thinking about finding a job soon?

Kai: Right. Maybe I should ask if I can join Sakyo-san’s company…

Sakyo: We’re… not exactly the most ethical place.

Kai: But it’s amazing how both of you can juggle your day jobs and performing for the theater company~

Gaku: I’ve got my club activities and reports, and I’m going crazy. How do you manage?

Sakyo: … You gotta make sure to not spend a single moment of your life half-heartedly.

Sakyo: As you grow older, the things you hafta do even though you don’t want to keep increasing, but that doesn’t mean you should give up on the things you want to do.

Sakyo: And when you find something you want to do, you must go at it with full strength.

Sakyo: The only way to get to doing what you actually want to do is by giving it your all on the things you don’t want to do.

Gaku: Gotta do what you don’t wanna do, huh… That hit right where it hurts~

-

Omi: Thank you so much for today. And for what you said before–

Sakyo: Sure.

Omi: I respect how you don’t neglect your work at Ginsenkai, you balance everything and still manage to work as a voice actor along with everything else you want to do.

Sakyo: It’s exactly because there are things I want to do that I'm able to work so hard.

Sakyo: What’s something you want to put your everything into doing, Fushimi?

Omi: ——

Omi: I understand that, just like Banri said, I have to find something to help me break out of my shell as an actor…

Omi: But the truth is, there’s something else bothering me currently.

Omi: I was told I’m being a hypocrite, and I’m not sure if it’s something I can solve. But I just can’t seem to stop thinking about it.

Sakyo: Then, isn’t that what you want to do most, right now?

Sakyo: If there’s something you really want to do, you should do it.

Sakyo: Keep turning away from the things you want to do, and your 20s will pass in the blink of an eye.

Sakyo: And those things will keep haunting you. Take it from someone with experience.

Omi: … You’re right.

Sakyo: The reason no one in the Autumn Troupe, myself included, is saying anything about your challenge, is because we know you’re not the type of person to slack off on this sorta thing.

Sakyo: What all of us wish for you is to do something that you truly want to do, even if it’s something difficult.

Omi: Something I truly want to do…

Omi: … Sakyo-san, there’s something I’d like to talk to you and the rest of the Autumn Troupe about when we get back to the dorm.

Sakyo: … You sure take your time when you have to ask for help.

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[ahgasegotarmy116]

Falling Part Three | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Lana and Jae get closer and you ask Jimin for advice on how to deal with her while also trying to rationalize why Jungkook would be on earth Pairing: Angel f!reader x Fallen Angel Jungkook Word Count: 2.9k~ Warnings: Talks about doubting God and questioning why he let's bad things happen to people on earth as well as leaving heaven to join the devil. This is not meant to be harmful to any religion and I don't want to cause any doubt in God or your faith so if you feel that would affect you then please do not read. Nothing super in depth but still wanted to preface it with this. a/n: I finished this and immediately posted it after some rough editing but I wanted to get it out asap lol hope you guys like it!

Once Lana is done for the day I keep my head on a swivel trying to see if I can catch a glimpse of Jungkook anywhere. Is he a student? He has to be a student right? The only way he would materialize would be if the person he was assigned to has already turned 18. He couldn't possibly be a teacher because I would've noticed by now. Meaning he's highly likely to be in his Senior year just like Lana. There are so many kids here though, how am I going to figure out which students have turned 18 recently?

"Lana!" I hear her name being called from across the hall by that same boy from before. "Oh Jae! Are you all done for the day too?" she asks clearly wanting to see if they would be getting off at the same time for future reference. "Yeah I just finished, did you drive here?" he asks curious as well to see if she would need a ride home most days. "No, my mom dropped me off. I usually just hang around school for a bit and do some homework until she gets off work and comes to get me" she explains. 

"Oh okay, well if you want I could give you a ride?" he offers, clearly insinuating something else but it seems to be in a playful manner more than anything. "That's okay, she's already planning on picking me up today. Rain check?" she asks hopeful he won't feel bad about her shooting him down. 

"Sure. Would it be okay if I kept you company until she does?" he questions, she smiles and nods which seems to uplift his spirits again which is good in her mind. "Cool" he says and follows her lead to one of the table outside in the courtyard near the area her mom picks her up at. 

"So, how are you liking things so far?" she questions, hoping to find something that they can talk about for a while. "It was a pretty seamless transition thankfully. All of my credits transferred so I didn't have to worry about trying to make up for the ones that didn't" he answers. "That's great! Scrambling to make those up before graduation would've been really difficult" she cringes just thinking about the potential of being held back. 

"Plus the students here are really nice, and one girl in particular has caught my eye" he teases, messing with the strap on her bag, almost shy to admit. "Oh yeah? And who might that be?" she questions, catching me off guard. 'Where the heck did she learn how to flirt? And why is she already good at it?' I think to myself. 

"Oh, just this really smart, cute and funny girl that I met. I bumped into her on accident today though so I'm not really sure if she likes me or not" he continues. "Are you sure it was on accident?" she teases. 'What the heck Lana! Why aren't you the shy awkward girl I know you to be anymore?' I think to myself now slightly panicking. 'She must really like this boy so far if she's had a sudden change of character just to entertain his advances. This isn't good'.

After getting home her mom finally takes note of how differently she's acting. She calls out for her and Lana simply hums to show she's listening. "Did something happen at school today?" she asks, also a little worried about her. 'Thank God I'm not the only one' I chime in in my head. If this guy wasn't dressed like the definition of trouble I might not be this concerned but I can't help the slight panic I'm starting to feel.

"No, not really" she say and makes her way up to her room, with me following close behind. "Hey come back down when dinner is ready! No skipping meals today" he mom yells after her. "Yes mom" she responds and closes her door right after the words leave her mouth. 

Jae: Did you get home safe?

Lana: Yeah just walked in. Did you?

Jae: Yeah I did. What are your plans for the rest of the day?

Lana: Nothing really. I've got some homework to do but other than that I'm pretty much free. Why?

Jae: I wanted to see if you wanted to go for a drive

She pauses for a second and thinks about it. She's nervous but excited, that's for sure but I really really hope she'll say no. She knows that she isn't supposed to be hanging out with anyone, let alone a boy she just met after curfew. 'Please Lana, please but smart about this' I pray, not wanting to add another sin to her tally of not obeying the rules set out for her. 

Lana: Oh I don't know, I'm not supposed to be out late on a school night

'Yes Lana! Good girl!' I rejoice. Hopefully he won't push her too much, but I don't blame him for trying, Lana is a very pretty girl. 

Jae: It's probably because we don't know each other well too huh?

Lana: Yeah that too

Jae: It's okay I get it

Lana: But if you're free we could talk on the phone? That way we can get to know each other a bit better :)

Jae: Sure

*Jae would like to FaceTime*

"I said call, not FaceTime" she panics out loud while looking at herself in the mirror before pressing accept. 

"I said we could talk on the phone" she says frustrated at being caught off guard. "Are we not talking on the phone?" his voice resounds on loud since Lana hasn't put her Airpods in yet. "Well...yes" "Then what's the problem Pretty?" he says with a half smile, watching as her eyes widen at the pet name. 

"Why did you call me that?" she asks, biting her lip to keep a smile from cracking while occupying herself with finding her Airpods so her mom doesn't hear him. "Because you're pretty" he says with (not gonna lie) a gorgeous smile. Lana better be careful because I feel like this one is ready to break her heart. Once she finally finds them she puts them in and continues their conversation which I thankfully am still able to hear.

"Is it okay if I call you Pretty?" he surprisingly asks for permission. "As long and I'm the only one you're calling that then yeah I guess so" she says and I can feel her heart racing in anticipation to see what his response might be. "Who else would I call Pretty, Pretty? If I've got you I don't need anyone else" he says, his words sweet as honey warm up her skin. 

"You think you've got me?" she says raising a brow at him. 'Okay Lana, you've still got some fight in you' I'm glad to see she's not playing into his games too quickly. If I were her I would have this guy be putty in my hands before I let him call me anything. 'I- nope I'm not her. Yep, we're just gonna. Uh huh let's give her some privacy' I think to myself and quickly call Jimin to ask for advice. 

"Hey! Long time no see" he says when his hologram pops up. "Yeah sorry I've been really busy with Lana. A new boy just stepped in the scene and I'm not really sure what I should do to help protect her" I say and watch as he takes in the information and thinks on it for a second. "Lana has been a really good girl right? She's been respectful and honest and follows the rules, does well in school, all of that stuff right?" he asks listing off the things I've told him about before. 

"Yes, all of those are still true but I'm nervous. This Jae guy is a capital T for Trouble and I know I'm not supposed to judge but I have to discern on what exactly I'm supposed to do here. Plus her birthday is next month so hopefully I'll be materializing that day if things go according to God's plan" I say, reminding both him and myself of the sort of situation we're dealing with.

"You also have to remember she's still a teenager. Teenagers are supposed to grow up and mess up and get their hearts broken if life takes them down that path. It's perfectly normal for her to like a guy and for him to like her back. It's something new since she really hasn't shown any true interest in boys so I understand how you're feeling but just pray and watch over her. That's all you can really do until her birthday and hopefully by then you'll be able to actually help guide her if she's open to it" he says. 

Now that I think about it, I have been super on edge with her recently, even before Jae came around. Maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion. "Just watch, wait, and gather information about how their relationship grows and changes in these next few weeks so you're able to figure out a game plan before you materialize alright?" he finishes and I take it all into account. 

"Another weird thing happened today, my bracelet lit up when Lana and I were at school" I relay and I can see his face go from confused, to excited, to scared as well as a whole other range of emotions that I can't quite identify. "How could he even be there? Do you think he's materialized as someone's fallen angel? Are there even kids that are that bad at her school? I thought you said she was at a good one?" he asks, just as confused as I am.

"Doesn't mean there aren't a couple of bad eggs lost in the mix" I say, sitting down on Lana's bed to hopefully relax for a bit. "The only way that my bracelet would light up would be if he was in the same realm, correct?" I ask him to which he nods. "And when you fall you become a fallen angel, right?" to which he nods again. "So after all of these years there is still a possibility that he could've been assigned to be someone's fallen angel. Their bad influence so to say, right?" I finish. "Well yeah, but the odds of that are slim. Usually the angels who have fallen are left as slaves and can't come out of hell even if they tried" he explains. 

"Yeah but Jungkook's different, you and I both know that. He could've been taken under someones wing, for lack of a better term. They could've seen potential and drive in him. Plus his brother is there, he fell during the war between angels so he's been there since the very beginning. He could've found out that Jungkook had fallen and got him whatever job he wanted" I finish, showing Jimin the possibilities that could've caused our paths to cross again.  

Maybe all these years he's been leading people straight into the arms of Lucifer. I can't even imagine the horrors he's gone through or worse, taken part in or caused on his own. "Did you see him?" he asks the question that I knew he has been itching to ask. I shake my head and let it fall "I tried looking around but Lana had to get to class so I was stuck with her in there for an hour. When we left I kept on looking as best as I could to find him but he wasn't there". "Maybe try again tomorrow? You'll find him don't worry" Jimin reassures me and we end our call soon after that.

I check up on Lana's call and it seems like they haven't gotten up to too much mischief, just some harmless flirting here and there. "Lana! Dinner!" we both hear her mom yell. "Hey I have to go but I'll see you at school tomorrow okay?" she says, rushing to finish up so her mom doesn't get too suspicious. "Alright, goodnight Pretty" he says in a teasing tone that gives her butterflies in her stomach. "Goodnight Jae" she responds and quickly hangs up the phone before rushing downstairs. 

The next day at school Jae finds Lana in the same hallway they had met in and comes right up to her and swoops up her books again. "Hey!" she protests, trying to get them back just like yesterday. "Hello to you too Pretty" he says chuckling at her. "You really don't have to do that" she says crossing her arms awkwardly while they repeat the same steps they had done yesterday. "I know, but I want to. How did you sleep?" he questions glancing over at her while they continue on their journey. 

"I slept alright, what about you?" she asks looking at him and just now noticing the dark circles under his eyes. "I slept like a baby" he responds, clearly lying. "Are you sure? Because those bags under your eyes are telling a different story" she teases, trying not to prod but being open to the discussion. "Well for the amount of time that I did sleep, I slept like a baby" he chuckles and they continue on down the hallway.

Once they reach the classroom they do the same as before, hanging out right outside to talk when she notices a cut and a slight bruise on his cheekbone that she hadn't seen before since she had been walking on the opposite side of him. "Jae what happened?" she asks clearly concerned and on instinct grabbing his opposite cheek to keep him in place so she can inspect it. 

"It's nothing don't worry about it" he says taking her hand off his face gently and toying with her fingers. "It's clearly not nothing. Does it hurt?" she asks with her brows knitted together while she brings her other hand up and traces the area with a feather light touch. He flinches and hisses as if she's hurt him and she gets even more concerned before she realizes he's joking. "Don't do that! I'm worried about you" she says pushing on one of his shoulders a bit to which he hisses out in true pain. 

"Jae oh my gosh I'm so sorry. I-" she starts but stops when he places one of his hands on her cheek. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine" he says and makes purposeful eye contact with her, to which she decides to just look towards the floor after a second and nods, not asking any further. "Hey" he says and brings her chin back up to look at him again "Just trust me okay?" he asks and she just nods again in response. 

"I need words Pretty" he says using that pet name with her again, making her eyes widen a bit. "Okay" she agrees, "Okay what?" he says tilting his head at her in amusement, teasing to get a smile out of her. "Okay I trust you" she says, giving him that smile he was searching for. "There she is" he says, referring to her normal playful self. 

"Let's head inside okay?" he suggests and she grabs her books from him before he make moves to even push off of the wall he had been leaning against. He tries to reach out for them but she gives him a stern look telling him not to push his luck with her. "Alright alright fine" he says holding his hands up and decides to walk behind her when they walk into the classroom and follows her over to her desk. 

"Can I walk you to your next class?" he asks when she sits down and she nods in agreement but she shies away when he raises a brow at her. "Yes Jae I would love it if you walked me to class" she says and at that he gives her a half smile and runs a thumb over her cheek before he heads off to his seat. 

"My brain is total mush right now" Jae says as they finish up the lesson. "Oh come on it wasn't that bad" Lana laughs and shakes her head as they make their way over to her next class. "Hey Jae!" we all hear a voice say from behind. Even before his voice met my ears my bracelet lit up "Oh hey, give me a minute I'm just gonna walk Lana to her class" Jae says as they continue on down the hallway. "Okay, we'll be outside" he says and even though my head is telling me not to my heart has a mind of it's own making me turn to face him. 

The first thing my eyes land on is his bracelet that he seems to be fiddling with, him looking as confused as I was yesterday. No longer gold but it still sits on his wrist, beaten and tarnished so much so that it has turned into a dark matte black. Another reminder of how far he's fallen, as if his appearance and demeanor wasn't enough. 

He's dressed just like Jae, with piercings and those same burnt and twisted branches as well, his woven through other various tattoos on one of his arms of all shapes and sizes, a particular one catching my eye. He takes a look around to see if he could possibly catch sight of me but fallen angels can't see other angels until they too materialize. I can't help the few tears that fall from the shock of the state he's in especially when he heads back outside to a group of other guys dressed just like them. 

What are Jae and Jungkook involved in? And why for God's sake did he have to choose Lana?

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