#questions are forty so i will do four sets maybe?

[grapecaseschoices]

questions here

I am brain-rotting dropout, so.

1- If your oc was to host a TV show, what would it be about? Would your oc be good at it? What sorts of guests would appear?

Hayden: I don't even know. But I think she would be a rather good game show host. Because she is a raccoon and a lizard. What is a filter? What is remorse? Hayden has a sort of ON energy -- it is hard to describe. It isn't quite peppy, it isn't quite gremlin [though it isn't not not quite gremlin]. It is like jittery but not in a nervy way. It is a 'Hayden doesnt know how to sit still in class, but I can't even get mad at it because Hayden's cheeky smile is so so adorable'. Hayden was going to be a lawyer and it is FITTING. DEFINITELY the kind of person TV lawyers think lawyers are.

Actually, I can see her in a Family Fued or Whose Line Is It Anyway sort of thing. But certainly more "unbothwred" than Steve is by the stuff people say. She is less likely to stare at the camera in with a 'Save Me Sweet Jesus' face and more likely to crack up / shrug it off.

Lloyd: I think Lloyd would be better for something quieter. The most intense he could probably be is an America Home Videos thing. Where the crowd is a stage away and the contestants are often responding via video chat. And even that might make him nervous. But it would be easier to pre-prepare and stick to a script there. And with a script he would he able to actually be more at ease, letting his impish charm show. But I think a trivia game show would be more him. Something like that new Kelly Ripa show with the kids and their grandparents.

2- Can your oc play any instruments? Have they ever wanted to learn how to play any? Why?

Hayden: The recorder all children in America were probably forced to play [i mean idk is it different for zoomers?]. I think Hayden was forced onto percussion instruments like the triangle and the tambourine -- and people got away with it because she dug it - because no one trusted Hayden with drums or the symbols.

I think she would because it is a thing to do. A bucket list kinda thing but she has no strong driving force, just I will do this by the time I'm 80.

Lloyd: He taught himself/is teaching himself the guitar. He wants to add the keyboard to that. Lloyd LOVES music and in another life that would be his major. He also I think wants to prove to himself that he can.

3- If you were to choose another name for your oc, what do you think it would be? Did you choose it for how it sounds or for its meaning?

Hayden: I actually had other names for Hayden but I don't remember what they are. I don't know that I would. Maybe something else that ends or starts with den? I liked Dennys as a nickname.

Lloyd: Vincent. I wanted a more oldy sounding name for him. Something a touch poetic but also serious. I went with Lloyd because of Loid Forger. Another tummy hurty blonde.

4- How does your oc fare in the dark? Are they scared? Do they trip over things really easily or navigate like they have night vision? (Or do they have night vision?)

Hayden: Can't see shit even in the light jshsheh. She's a four eye [its cool I can say that, I used to be a four eye]. She doesn't trip REALLY easily because she has good balance/can catch herself and because she walks with her hand extended. I don't think Hayden has been scared of the dark, except for one time and that was probably because someone jumped out at her as a kid. Lmao

Lloyd: actually has good spatial Awareness, so while he doesn't have night vision, he can remember placement and can make a pretty good guess of what things are with minimal lighting. Lloyd is no longer scared of the dark but it does make him uncomfortable. He is the type to triple lock his door and leave at least one light on in the house.

5- How well would your oc fare as a teacher? What subject would they be best at teaching? What about the worst?

Hayden: Unless it was as a gym teacher, I don't think very well. I feel would learn but it would be hard to measure what they learn. And I think she would probably make some kids cry, not intentionally but idk that she would change her vibe [she would make some parents cry too -- probably on purpos]. Gym would probably be the best. Not that she wasn't good at more booked based stuff but she loved Gym. Least: Chemistry.

Lloyd: Once he got of his head and stopped being so stiff/letting the kids harass him, he would be a great teacher. He is very sensitive and can be very passionate about his interests. He has that bubbling excitement that lights up his face that makes you hang onto his words / want to follow his words. Best: Music or English Worst: Math.

6 - What was your oc’s relationship with their parents like? If they didn’t have any parents/didn’t know them, who in their life was the closest to a parent to them?

Hayden: We are still learning but I imagine belligerent. She was definitely always hitting her head against the walls they put up "for her benefit". I think there is love there because I think there is understanding that they want the best for each other [Hayden to make them proud, and them for her to have a good futur] but there is frustration through speaking different languages. I think Maude

Lloyd: Has a more submissive, almost fearful relationship with his parents. It wasn't what either of them wanted but that is how it turned iyr to be. But we will see once I play him. Lloyd loves Maude but I kind of see him looking at some of the other characters in a big sibling way -- even if they weren't much older [maybe Statler and Wanda??]

7 - Does your oc have any allergies, intolerances, or other sensitivities? How dangerous is it? Does this affect their daily life in any way?

Hayden: She has a latex allergy -- but like from stuff used to make latex. So she won't blow up if she eats a kiwi but she will get a rash when ij contact with latex gloves/balloons.

Lloyd: Pollen drives him wild and he has to wear a mask during spring / when in woods and stuff. And after it rains sbbshdgd

8 - Does your oc prefer being in a crowd or being completely alone? How many people can be around them before they get uncomfortable?

Hayden: Surprisingly, Hayden likes quiet time but she doesn't have a strong preference. She isn't a crowd monger but she does well with it. She can handle rather large crowds before starting getting antsy [like in the 100s]

Lloyd: Likes people he knows. A group of familiar people is fine-- to a point. He actually doesn't like being completely alone but he will take that before an unfamiliar group. He can take at least two handfuls of people he is familiar with or loves around him at a time. If it is strangers... 3?? Lol. [He definitely went to class with bis hoodie up]

9- How easily does your oc make friends? Do they have difficulty talking to new people? Why?

Hayden: Doesn't have difficulty talking to new people... per se, but new people can have difficulty with Hayden. Hayden doesn't really curb herself for others. So. That can rub people wrong but she's great fun and people dig the sarcasm so sue has a lot of casual friends.

Lloyd: Can in a quiet, constantly seeing each other setting. Forced proximity. But generally know because he doesn't like unfamiliar environments and sometimes feels like he is being judged. He also isn't shy per se as much as has... nerves speaking outloud.

10 - How open is your oc to trying new things? Are they the adventurous sort, or would they rather stay in their comfort zone? Why?

Hayden: I want to say yes but I also want to say no. So I will come back to this. There IS the bucket list and she does thing with gutso ... but I wonder...I'll ponder aidhshdh

Lloyd: Surprisingly yes. It is easier with things than with people. He likes to learn. But slow and steady.

#questions are forty so i will do four sets maybe? #i wanna do this for my infamous ocs too #but i still gotta finis h the love question series #character insight #i think after that ima do the disenchanted ones -- i wanted to do them HERE but i felt that would be too much and disorganized #grapes chars #meet my ocs #i think i might do a statler and wanda oc -- just one for both but idk i will wait #insight: hayden moise #insight: lloyd duarte #insight: dropout

[myteavsricochet]

Favorite firstprince fanfics, an incomplete list:

One shots:

All the Stars We Steal From the Night Sky :

Alex is quiet, and something is wrong.

Or, Alex struggles with emotions and Henry is there to help.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically Just Them Being Soft, Alex is struggling, Henry helps)

In His Wildest Dreams

Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. Pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process.

(Please, look at the tags carefully, this fic is very soft, very hot and very consensual but may not be for everyone: Consensual somnophilia, Kink exploration, Porn with feelings, Smut)

5 times Alex called Henry baby ‘casually’ and 1 time it was (definitely) because of love

How did “baby” become a thing in the film universe? When did it become a thing in the film universe? Fine, I’ll answer these questions myself.

(Additional Tags: Overuse of the word "baby", Pet Names, Fluff, Angst, 5+1 Things, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort)

Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

Alex has always been too much. Objectively, he knows this. He talks too much, his volume is too much, and the fire under his ass is too much. So, when he’d met Henry, when he hadn’t cared about Henry’s opinion and had been his real, authentic, annoying self, and Henry had liked him anyway? It was something Alex struggled to wrap his head around. It started in kindergarten.

Or: A look at Alex's childhood and how hard it is always being the too-much person in any given room.

(Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Childhood, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, So much comfort)

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces

Oscar gets in close and bluntly asks, “Earlier. In the bathroom. Did you do it?”

Alex scoffs, “No. Don't be a perv. Why would you wanna know that anyway?”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Mind out of the gutter, chamaco. Did you propose?”

Ah.

-

Henry is introduced to the extended Diaz side of the family at their matriarch's birthday. Shenanigans (and romance and feelings) ensue.

(This fic is absolutely amazing ❤️

Additional Tags: Humor, Fluff, Family Fluff, Pre-Engagement, Mexican-American Culture, Mexican OC's galore, Drinking, Family Bonding, Karaoke, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Alex Claremont-Diaz Speaks Spanish)

Forty-Four Days

"God, I haven't seen you in forty-four days," Alex suddenly spits, and Henry feels the pain of his words in his own chest, like ice replacing the blood in his veins. Because that's it, isn't it? Forty-four days of separation. Forty-four days of waking up to an empty bed, of making coffee along with his tea only to realize that Alex isn't there to drink it, of long meetings without any of Alex's witty jokes, of cold hands on chilly autumn walks because Alex isn't there to warm them up.

Maybe it's the simple fact of hearing for the first time, or maybe it's the tipping point of the taxing day, but Henry feels something inside of him snap, and —

And all he knows is that he needs to see Alex now.

(Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Separations, Separation Anxiety, Late Night Conversations, Minor Character Death, but it's nothing to worry about I PROMISE, Reunions, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Mild Sexual Content, they love and miss each other, that's the plot, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

A Mind That Never Sleeps

Five times Alex stays awake with Henry, and the one time he coaxes him back to sleep.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Insomnia, Sleepless nights, Piano, Weddings, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, that's really all this is, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

talk too much

Alex has his wisdom teeth removed and Henry takes care of him, fluff ensues

(Additional Tags: wisdom teeth removal, not bloody or graphic, just fluff, pure fluff, No Angst, Henry Pov, firstprince, living in the brownstone, FLUFF I TELL YOU, Henry taking care of Alex, and Alex taking care of Henry too hehe, You’ll see)

silk and steel

Thanks to a welcome day off, Henry and Alex spend a lazy morning in bed. Soft, mid-morning cuddles escalate into semi-soft, mid-morning sex.

(Addictional tags: Morning cuddles, Morning sex, Body worship, Light dom/sub, Praise kink, Established relationship, Top Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Bottom Alex Claremont Diaz)

I don't wanna dance, if I'm not dancing with you

"You want me at a ball?"

"I want you with me as often as possible," Henry says, immediately, as if it's obvious. Maybe it is. "But yes, it would be nice to have you there. I'm not necessarily actively trying to anger my grandmother, which you being there might, but... Well, she hasn't exactly extended an invitation but I have just as much right as anyone to bring a date and--"

"Baby." Henry's rambling stops short on what nearly sounds like a gasp, and Alex grins to himself. Sometimes, his boyfriend is too easy. "Do you want me there?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be there."

----

or, Henry wants Alex at a ball and Alex is anxious about it.

(Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Ballroom Dancing, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Hurt/Comfort)

If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me, You’ll Be the First Who Ever Did

Henry feels himself aching for Alex—this Alex, the one who’s at home in Texas, the one who’s vulnerable and free—and he sees the ache reflected in Alex’s eyes.

The first night they spend at the lake house, before Alex wakes up with Henry's swimsuit tangled around his elbow.

(Additional Tags: Emotions, Anal Sex, Bottom Henry, alex calling henry baby, henry calling alex love, Boys In Love, Porn with Feelings, Henry Pov, so it's a wee bit angsty)

love dares you, to change our way of caring about ourselves

Henry has read it all: fairy-tales of princes and their courters, unsung histories of kings and their secret lovers, and he has read all their happy endings. But he is not a prince in a fairy-tale, and he has always thought his own secret love story was likelier to end in tragedy.

Perhaps it’s time that changed.

(Or, Henry’s POV the morning after The Great Claremont-Diaz Ambush at Kensington Palace)

Let Me Hold Your Head in My Hands

Alex has a migraine.

Henry takes care of him.

(Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, Boys In Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Idiots in Love, Headaches & Migraines, Tooth-Rotting Fluff,Domestic Fluff, Bathtubs)

you would not believe your eyes (if ten million fireflies)

Alex and Henry are staying at Alex’s house in Texas. Henry has never seen fireflies before, and Alex can’t let him get away without the experience of catching one.

Or,

Alex is helplessly in love with Henry.

(Additional Tags: Fluff, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Summer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, firefly catching, Fireflies, Lightning bugs, Texas)

Promises, Promises.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes again.

The corner of Henry’s mouth does the thing it does. His walls are back up.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he mutters, before turning on his heel and marching down the hall.

——

OR

Alex has never felt so horrible. And 3 days is a long time.

(Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Fights, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Stressed Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Anxiety, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Abandonment Issues, Leaving Home)

The Red Side Goes Up

Henry brings home a little something new to try in the bedroom. Or: The One Where Alex Gets Jealous of a Butt Plug.

(Additional Tags: Smut, Rimming, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Post-Canon)

(all of me changed like) midnight rain

“They’re fighting again,” he whispers instead. Henry’s eyes are sad.

“I know, love.”

Or, 5 times Alex believes his relationship with Henry won't last, and 1 time he knows it will.

Or, 5 times Alex doesn't believe in love because of his parents and 1 time Henry proves him wrong.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Canonical Divorce, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Song: Midnight Rain (Taylor Swift), Depression, References to Depression)

We'll Get Together Then

5+1 times Oscar was a good dad to Henry (ft. Abuelo Oscar)

(Additional Tags: Henry and Oscar bonding, 5+1 Things, I have Feelings about their relationship, Arthur's death is mentioned)

The Bet

Looking back at it, it's all Nora's fault.

Or, the time Henry and Alex bet on who can last the longest without sex.

(Additional Tags: Bets & Wagers, No sex bet, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but it gets resolved eventually, Wet Dream, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Porn With Plot, like it kind of has a plot, Mostly just porn though, Kissing, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Riding, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Switching, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

What Kind of Day Has It Been

Even after thirty-odd years of being together (twenty-five of those married) Henry still has to drag Alex away from his desk and up to bed. Even just a few days after routine surgery Alex can't help himself.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Kissing, Married Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

take a bite, babe

And, well, Henry can no longer lie to himself. He couldn’t be more in love with Alex if he tried.

Or: five moments Henry notices Alex’s eyelashes (and falls a little more in love).

I miss you, i'm sorry

"I—I’m killing myself trying to make this work, trying to make both you and my family happy, living on planes, and it’s still not enough for you? I don’t know what else to do.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s so hard for you to be with me,” Alex says bitterly, wiping furiously at his eyes and refusing to meet Henry’s.

"Alex—"

“No,” Alex interrupts angrily, “get it off your chest! I can’t wait to hear all about how much work I am to be with. You know what, if you’re just gonna leave me again then you might as well go ahead and do it now. Save us both the hurt.”

Or: the fight.

(Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Fighting, Healthy Relationships, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Comfort, Healthy Conflict Resolution, Conflict Resolution)

Too Much

Okay, so maybe Alex talked too much for them. It was fine. He could still sit with them at lunch, he just had to make sure not to talk so much. Just listen to them. He could do that.

The next day, and the day after, Alex sat with the same group of kids. Only, he no longer went on rants about movies or books or what he saw on the news that morning or what his parents talked/argued over at dinner.

Alex stayed silent, desperate to not be too much.

***

OR 5 times the people in Alex's life thought that he was too much + one time Henry assured him that he wasn't.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Projecting, author's first fic)

the common tongue of you loving me

Where did kissing come from? Henry has always wondered. Why kisses? At the beginning of history, which long forgotten person, which ancestor of all mankind, was the first to press their lips to another’s in a declaration of their love?

Was it a lover, perhaps, so consumed with devotion that they sought to use lips as well as fingertips? All followed the base urge of their bodies — the innate knowledge that the pressing of lips was the highest form of touch. But no one knows why.

Except when Alex quirks his cupid’s bow, licks into Henry’s mouth and lets his bottom lip rest on Henry’s, and oh. Henry knows.

(Additional Tags: Kissing, henry has so many feelings about kissing, Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, Frottage)

All Your Closets Of Backlogged Dreams

It’s not that the loss of the President’s oldest child is a secret. It’s just that nobody talks much about the death of Catalina June Claremont-Diaz.

It takes Alex years before he talks to Henry about her.

(The painful story no one asked for that ties June into the movie.)

(Additional Tags: Past Character Death, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD)

i'm so in love (i might stop breathing)

He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, eyes half-lidded as he looks at Alex. He rests his head on Alex's chest, tightening his arms. Alex can see the tips of his ears turning pink.

"It's ! H G E J F M W C D 2 4 !" he mumbles in embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of Alex's neck again. A beat of silence.

Then, almost shouting in joy, Alex yells, "Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor- Claremont-Diaz! That's your fucking password?"

"Shut up!" Henry hisses and Alex feels so many butterflies in his stomach that he's going to throw himself off of a cliff. Really, teenage girls with celebrity crushes have nothing on him at this moment.

or,

Henry is drunk and Alex is so in love he could die.

(being with you) makes the flame burn good

“Ah, would you look at that,” Alex says hoarsely, breaking the kiss, “Looks like you got a bit of batter on your neck.”

He lowers his head and licks a stripe up Henry's neck until his tongue reaches the spot below his ear and Henry shudders slightly in his arms.

“Tastes so good, baby,” Alex teases and fits his thigh between Henry's legs, feeling how hard he is and how immediately he grinds against Alex's body, searching for any form of relief.

“Oh, piss off,” Henry breathes and tangles his hands in Alex's curls, fisting his hand lightly and moving his hips a little faster.

(Additional Tags: Married Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Kitchen Sex, Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Laughter During Sex, Body Worship, Sort Of, Hickeys, Begging, Praise Kink, Nipple Play, surprisingly there's NO food play in this, Dom Alex, Sub Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

we thought we ruled the world

Alex stares down at his latest text from Henry. A link to an article he’s seen about ten versions of so far. He’s managed to resist clicking on any of them, but now Henry is sending it, so he supposes he should at least give it a skim.

How Prince Henry’s Relationship With FSOTUS Lost Ellen Claremont The Election

............

Or, what would have happened if Ellen lost.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, mostly happy at least)

pictures of you

Henry has seen photos of Alex before, of Alex’s easy grin and disarming smirk, wild curls awry and lean muscles on casually stretched biceps. He’s seen countless photos of him before.

But.

Alex has never sent him a photo before. Not like this.

---

Five times Alex sends Henry a selfie from bed (+ one time Henry sends him one)

the dresden dilemma

The Crown had expectations when it sent a member of the royal family abroad but after a handful of years navigating said expectations, Alex and Henry had become adept at circumventing them when possible. Like tonight: They were supposed to be in Berlin for the weekend, but after a bit of needling and a lot of promises to behave, Alex had convinced Shaan to arrange for them to spend at least one night outside of the city.

Dresden, Alex had argued, was close enough to Berlin that they weren't really disobeying the Crown and besides, what harm could a single night in Dresden do?

(Additional Tags: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Established Relationship, Alex Claremont-Diaz has Trauma, cause he's an american kid and who doesn't, or at least he thought, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Fireworks, School Shootings, implied/referenced anyway, Guns)

the clementine thing

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company.

Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him.

-

Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor

(This is one of my favorites, please read this ❤️)

In the Low Lamp Light, I Was Free

“You wanna go again?” Alex asks, pressing the back of his head into the pillows, offering his throat more fully to Henry’s hungry mouth, and when Henry laughs and retrieves another condom and the little bottle of lube from his toiletry bag, he adds, “I had a thought, though. I thought, maybe… you could be inside me this time.”

(Movieverse; there were two condom wrappers on the floor in Paris.)

he is exactly the poem i wanted to write

There is no Turkey in Alex's room this year, but there is a prince.

AKA, Henry spends thanksgiving with Alex after the election and reflects on all of his dreams coming true.

(Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, so fluffy it borders on worshippy, Porn with Feelings)

we might fall

A little ficlet of Alex and Henry in the hammock. Metaphors about falling.

lifeline of mine

Henry hates hospitals, has hated them since he watched his father wither away in one that smelled just like this one, that had the same unsettling chill in the air. And every time he walked into a hospital after losing Arthur, he would see his father’s ashen face, would feel the ghost of his cold skin prickling his own, would hear the slowing beep of his heart monitor. And now, it’s Henry in a hospital bed, not knowing what’s wrong with his body. And he’s scared, and he’s thinking about Arthur and…

“I saw him,” Henry whispers.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Hurt Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Worried Alex Claremont-Diaz, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug, Forehead Kisses, Fever, Angst with a Happy Ending)

please don't ever become a stranger (whose laugh i could recognize anywhere)

Alex’s love language is physical touch.

Henry knows this—has known it from the first moment he’s met Alex, all wild curls and bright eyes and a smile that could breathe life into Henry’s little, fragile hife. He’d stuck out a hand at that first meeting, dejected when Henry didn’t even take it. Found a way to poke and prod Henry every single time they’d met after, sharp jabs hitting his shoulder and rough hits shoving him around.

Now, Alex’s fingers are gentle as they lace around his. His arms hold him tight to his chest. His hair tickles the nape of Henry’s neck, and the couch is entirely too small for the two of them but Henry doesn’t have the heart to kick him out.

Or, 5 times Alex clings tight to Henry and 1 time Henry finds out why.

Bear with me

The first time it happened, Henry was not having it.

“For the last time, I’m not helping you shave your arse.”

—

In which Alex is very hairy, and Henry sort of has a thing for it. Not that he'd admit it, though.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Canon - Book, But can fit the movie verse too, tzp is a walking thirst trap, this was supposed to be crack but became quite serious real quick, Domestic Fluff, Mentions of Sex, No Smut, Body Hair Appreciation, Healthy Relationships)

i ask you how you’re doing (and i let you lie)

The first time Henry sees it happen, he knows instantly that it is not the first time it has ever happened. They’re sitting in the living room of the brownstone, the two of them surrounded by their favorite people in the world, a night of board games long abandoned in favor of mocking the eighth season of Game of Thrones.

“God, don’t you have an off switch?” June groans, laughing as she chucks a piece of popcorn in Alex’s direction while he rambles passionately about the international legal implications of the Red Wedding. Nora cackles. “Whatever you do to thank Henry for putting up with you, it’s not nearly enough. Jesus, I can’t believe he put a ring on your loud mouth.”

Or: Alex is fine. Really, he’s fine — he just wants Henry to stay, even if Alex is too much. Henry just wants his husband back.

but i'd put you first a million times over

Henry first noticed it shortly after the Waterloo incident. Apparently, it hadn’t been enough to thrust all their private thoughts and emails into the public eye; they had to be thrust into the limelight as well.

Or the 5 times Henry asked the Crown for better security, plus one time he no longer had to.

(Additional Tags: Protective Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Paparazzi, Hurt/Comfort, 5+1 Things, Hurt Alex Claremont-Diaz, Post-Canon)

in every scenario

Henry can practically hear Alex thinking. They’re curled up in bed, Alex’s head resting on his chest, and his mind is so loud. He can hear it in the rustling of the sheets, in Alex’s hand skating up his ribcage; the anxious curl of his toes against Henry’s ankles. He’s nearly vibrating with thought.

Henry’s hand tucks into the base of Alex’s spine. “Love,” he murmurs, ducking his chin to look down at his boyfriend. “What on earth are you thinking about?”

-

Or, Alex has something important on his mind.

Long fics:

all that glitters (is not gold)

Alex Claremont-Diaz has it all. His mom won the election, he’s got the perfect boyfriend. He gets to love Henry out loud. Everything is great. Perfect.

Except for the itch under his skin every time he goes outside, and the tightness in his chest when he goes online, and the fact that he can’t fucking sleep.

But it's fine. He's fine. Really.

—-

Or: after the emails, Alex Claremont-Diaz isn’t fine.

(The masterpiece. The firstprince sequel. The canon sequel.)

But I love him, whether or no.

Henry moves to New York City to help Pez with the opening of his new bar in the East Village. The location—fortunately for business, but unfortunately for Henry’s sanity—is directly across the street from a fire station. The sound of sirens is bad, Alex the gorgeous firefighter is worse. But when Alex helps Henry avoid a near catastrophe the night of the bar’s opening, the two form a tentative friendship that starts to develop into something more.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighter!Alex, Canon typical mental health issues for Henry, Canon typical struggles with grief for Henry, Canon typical child of divorce issues for Alex, Canon typical struggles with sexuality for Alex, Firefighter injuries, Hospitalization, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

the poem you make of me

After being discovered on Instagram as a teenager, Alex Diaz is thriving as a social media influencer and model who just landed a high profile, high fashion contract with Calvin Klein. Alex can get any girl he wants, and he’s loving it. Meanwhile, British poet Henry Fox has just arrived in L.A. to kick off a North American tour promoting his new, steamy book of gay erotic poetry, and he’s attracting a lot of attention.

Bad blood is immediately sparked between them when Henry blows Alex off at their first meeting. Several tabloid rumors and an Instagram tantrum later, Alex and Henry are reluctantly thrust together to make nice, resulting in a grudging friendship and a magnetism between them that Alex can't explain. Why is Henry's poetry making Alex feel like this? And just what is it about Henry Fox that gets to him so much?

God Save the Blessed American President Mom

["June stopped by at lunch; she showed me a delightful channel called Hallmark, which repeats the same story every hour after they swap one round of white, straight, small-town conventionally beautiful actors for another. It was entertaining.”

“June and I used to play a drinking game with those. Take a shot every time someone goes ice skating, sledding, or leaves the big city for their tiny hometown.”

“Good lord, you must’ve been sloshed in the first ten minutes.”]

***

On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life.

Alex gets shot instead.

How wonderful life is (while you're in the world)

The corner of Henry’s mouth. It’s disappeared now, covered by the oxygen mask fixed securely around his head, but if Alex concentrates hard enough, he can see it sprawled out in front of him. Every ridge, every bend and edge and turn of it.

He knows Henry’s heart. And that’ll be enough.

(or: the one where henry gets shot and alex is a goddamn mess.)

#it's been 84 years #but i did it #this is the longest post I've ever made #please don't ignore it #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince fanfic #firstprince fic #rwrb fic #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

[esamastation]

Part forty-two of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one

-

The Turks have arranged everything. Sort of. The charcoal burner's house is long abandoned and remote, not close to any main routes, so it would be private. In the books, both Sephiroth and Angeal are taking part in a classified mission with the Turks, which has been approved by both the Director of the SOLDIER program and the Acting Director of the Turks. It would take someone higher up in the Public Security Department to delve deeper than that, and since the President had already given his seal of approval, there's not much even Heidegger can do about it.

"And Rude is bringing everything we'll need to survive," Reno finishes. "Starting today, your priority is sorting out whatever is going on with you, free of distractions, external stressors and hopefully of further incidents."

Sephiroth still seems to be stuck on the getting his shit together part of the mission and apparently isn't sure whether to be insulted or not.

Angeal clears his throat. "And what are we supposed to… do, exactly?"

"Hell if I know," Reno shrugs and nods at Sephiroth. "Figure you'd sort it out by yourself, with your new spooky… whatever it is you got going on. You seem to have some idea."

"Uh," Sephiroth answers. 

Eloquent.

Angeal runs a hand down his face. Then he laughs. "Okay, I have to admit. I'm impressed. I didn't really think you'd do anything, but - I'm impressed." And more than slightly intimidated by the connections and liberties the Turks have, but that's not exactly new. "How long do we have?"

"Until further notice, or until someone back in Midgar gets antsy," Reno shrugs. "I'm thinking maybe don't worry about time. If you need more, we will arrange some."

Huh. "This is really that important, then?"

Reno gives Sephiroth a look and then looks at Angeal. "Yeah," he says, a deceptively easy answer.

That's… somehow a little disconcerting. Certainly Sephiroth is invaluable to the program and to the company, but this… this is beyond VIP treatment.

"I see," Angeal murmurs and clears his throat.

Sephiroth finally shakes himself loose from his surprise, enough to look first somewhat sheepish - and then intrigued. "So, I can do whatever I want here?"

"Pretty much," Reno agrees, without any care for how alarming the question is. "And if you need something to further your whatever, we'll get it for you."

"Nice. And there will be no other missions if I don't want to do them right now?" Sephiroth asks.

"You can do them or not as you'd like - none of them have higher priority than this, and they can be delegated to other people, if it comes to that."

Sephiroth runs a hand over his chin. "And if I want access to some material that might be to some extent classified?"

Reno narrows his eyes. "Like what?"

"Haven't decided yet," Sephiroth answers flippantly. "But it might come up."

"... Great. We'll review case by case when we come to it," Reno mutters. "Though you know it's a bitch to get stuff shipped here, right? We're on another continent."

"Yes, yes, it's very impressive," Sephiroth says dismissively and thinks about something for a moment. Then he looks at the charcoal burner's house with a discerning eye. "And you'll be staying here too?" he then asks, glazing at Reno. "To watch us?"

Reno shrugs, unapologetic.

Sephiroth eyes him for a moment and then turns back to the house. "Very well. It will do."

"... Awesome," Reno says and motions. "Go, make yourselves comfortable or whatever. I'm going to walk the perimeter and set some traps."

"Mmhmm," Sephiroth answers, already striding back into the house with a proprietor's casual confidence, and Angeal can just imagine the furniture soon to be rearranged inside.

He hesitates before following and looks at Reno. "What is this really about? It's not just that Sephiroth lost control, is it?"

Reno considers him. "Well, duh, no," he says. "It's the stuff he's been saying in between."

And the abilities he seems to be on the verge of developing. "What's the official view on what's happening to Sephiroth?" What are they expecting from him?

"There isn't one," Reno says and arches his brows meaningfully, and then turns to go.

Angeal's face tightens, and he knows he probably doesn't understand the implications… but then maybe he does. All this effort and all the stuff that's been going on… whatever it is, the company is looking forward to benefiting from it greatly. And they want no one messing with what is happening before they do.

Angeal thinks of the moment Sephiroth communed with the old tree the day before, and for a moment he really wishes it was Genesis here with him instead. Genesis would actually know how to handle all of this. Angeal isn't even sure if he can ask Genesis about this, if he can talk to him about this!

Never mind the fact that Genesis probably has his hands full with whatever is happening back at Shinra Building… the aftermath of Sephiroth's incident and whatever Professor Hojo was doing…

Angeal turns to head inside.

… Where Sephiroth has begun poking around the house, and, of course, is already moving furniture around.

"I see you are all for this," Angeal comments.

"I'll take all the extra time I can get," Sephiroth mutters while carrying a little table to the middle of the main room. "Though I am not exactly happy about being under Turk supervision, I'll take it over the alternative."

Angeal hums, looking around and then deciding that Sephiroth probably doesn't need - or want - his help in decorating. "What's the alternative?"

Sephiroth grimaces and goes to move a bookshelf.

Okay then. Ominous. Angeal sighs and sets the Buster Sword down to lean against the wall near the door, right beside Masamune. "You know they expect something to come from this. For you to… to make it worth their while."

Sephiroth half laughs and half scoffs. "I just bet they do," he agrees and picks up somewhat dusty cushions and considers them with a frown.

Angeal folds his arms. "Are you going to?" he then asks, worried.

Sephiroth pauses and looks away, dropping the cushions by the table in the middle. "No," he says finally. "I don't imagine I will. Regardless," he shakes his head. "This is the next best thing to a full-on seclusion, and I am damn well going to make the most of it."

Angeal doesn't know what that means, but it doesn't matter. "Okay," he says and draws a breath. "Guess we'll… just stay here for the time being, then."

Sephiroth hums in agreement. "Guess so. Does it bother you?"

"No more than anything else around Wutai," Angeal admits and looks up at the ceiling. "We were already looking forward to a prolonged stay in someone's abandoned home. This place is honestly an improvement."

Sephiroth relaxes a little. "Yeah. And hey, the people here weren't chased out or killed by Shinra. That's something."

Angeal looks at him curiously. "How do you know that?"

"The original owner left a scrap piece of letter behind. Apparently they were invited to the capital," Sephiroth says.

… Sephiroth reads the Wutai language? Huh. Angeal didn't know that.

"I guess that's good to know," he says and then sighs. "Okay, so. This… thing you're doing. Your energy alignment stuff. Is there anything I can do to help? What do you need?"

Sephiroth hesitates between moving some jars around and looks at him. "I need a proper cleared training area," he says and offers him a wry smile. "At least as big as the training room back at Shinra Building."

"I can do that, yeah," Angeal says. "Anything else?"

Sephiroth thinks about it for a moment before setting the jars back down. "I'll let you know."

Angeal nods and gets to it. There's not much he can do when Sephiroth refuses to trust him, but… he'd do what he could.

Hopefully by the end of it, it would be enough.

-

Time for a training montage.

#Fanfiction #ffvii #Ff7 #svsss #angeal hewley #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #reno of the turks

[rubyreduji]

Office Hours - csc

summary: you show up to professor choi’s office hours looking for help

tags: smut (minors dni!), college!au, professor!seungcheol warnings: explicit unprotected sex, reader calls him sir but in an unsexual way, age gap, cockwarming, praise, daddy kink, choking, fingering, return of seungcheol’s breeding/impregnation kink wc: 2.4k an: some people were asking me to expand on this universe and ngl i kinda love it so i caved haha. also i took one (1) biology class four years ago so i have no fucking clue how college biology works so dont hate me LOL

pt. 1 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

“Professor Choi?” You stick your head into his office after knocking on the door.

The man is sitting at his desk, his eyes closed, muttering to himself. When he hears your voice he opens his eyes and the pinched look on his face relaxes and he smiles tiredly at you.

“Ah baby girl, come in.”

You follow instructions and close the door as you do before going to sit in the faux leather chair across from him. Weariness still shadows Seungcheol’s face and you frown at this. You don’t like when he looks so exhausted, so different from his normal composed persona. “Is everything okay sir?”

“Oh don’t worry about me,” he lets out a small chuckle. “I think I’m just getting old.”

“You can’t be that old sir,” you insist. “You look too good.” 

“I’m nearing forty, that is old enough for me. You’re what? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty sir.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up at this. “Aish, I am getting old.”

“Age isn’t everything, professor,” you assure him.

“Maybe not, but enough about my old age. You’ve come into my office hours, what can I help you with?”

“I’m struggling with the out of class work you’ve assigned,” you explain. “Specific yesterday’s worksheet, the one about genetics and heredity.”

“Ah yeah. How about you come over here and we can look at it together.” Seungcheol gestures you over to his side of the desk. Daintily you pick up your worksheet and walk over to him. Once you lay the paper down in front of him you’re about to lean down to look at it but Seungcheol’s rough hands grab at your hips and pull you down onto his lap.

“O-oh!”

“That’s better, isn’t it doll?” Seungcheol says huskily in your ear. 

“Y-yes daddy,” you respond.

“Good girl. Now let’s look at this homework.” Seungcheol’s arm wraps loosely around your waist, his hand resting on your thigh, while his other arm rests on his desk. He scans the page and then makes a humming noise like he remembers the assignment. His hand massages at your upper thigh as he looks over your work.

You shift a bit in his lap and you feel his dick rub against your ass. He’s already half hard and you whimper.

It’s been almost a week since you and Seungcheol have had sex, which in theory isn’t that long, but when he fucks you on an every other day basis it feels like a lot. On Monday he had a faculty meeting he had to run off to and then yesterday you promised your friends you would go out with them and they chose the time right after your biology class.

You’ve taken to texting Seungcheol though. Rarely is it ever about school work. It’s mostly pictures, whether it’s a picture of you cuddling with your favorite stuffed animal in bed or the brand new lingerie set you bought with your friends. It always keeps Seungcheol on edge when you text him but he’d never tell you to stop. It only fuels his hunger for you.

“How about this baby girl? If you can listen to me explain this and get five questions right, I’ll fuck you. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes daddy.” You nod at the man enthusiastically.

“That’s my good girl. Now listen while I explain this.”

Seungcheol starts to re-explain the whole lesson about carrying genes and mothers and fathers, but all while he does his fingers flit over your crotch and start to play with you. A singular finger trails across the inseam of your shorts before dipping under the hem and touching you over your panties.

You try to focus on what Seungcheol is telling you and you catch maybe every five words but most of your attention is on the way he’s dampening your panties with just a simple tight circular motion. You’re trying your best not to move around in Seungcheol’s lap so he doesn’t have to punish you. You like being good for him.

By the time your professor is finished talking your panties are drenched and the area between your legs is aching. A small high pitched keening noise comes from your throat when Seungcheol removes his fingers from your clit and runs them along your slit.

“So wet for daddy,” he hums. “I hope you were paying attention though because you have your five questions now.”

“Daddy~” you whine. You’re too needy to focus on the paper.

“I see. Hmm, take your shorts and panties off.” You quickly stand and do that, exposing your bare pussy to the room. As you do that, Seungcheol unzips his trousers and yanks his dick out, fisting it a bit to get it up to full mast. “Now sit on my dick and do your homework.”

“Yes daddy!” You quickly clamber onto his lap and you’re already so wet that you’re able to sink down on him with ease. You both groan at the feeling of his thick cock inside your tight walls and Seungcheol thrusts up into you a couple times before stopping.

“Lee Jimin was in here before you for office hours,” Seungcheol starts, “and just seeing him set me off.” Is that why he was so tense before you came in? “He’s a pervert, staring down your shirt and trying to look up your skirt every day in class. I wish I could just fail him.” His hands knead at your bare hips as he talks, distracting you from the worksheet in front of you.

With shaky hands you pick up your pencil and look down at the first question. You read it at least five times trying to understand. Finally you think you understand.

“B-because only the dad is affected, and i-it’s a, a y-linked inh-heritance, only those assigned m-male at b-birth can be affected,” you can barely stutter your words out, too focused on the way Seungcheol’s dick twitches inside of you.

“Good girl,” Seungcheol purs. “I knew you had it in you. Now do the next one.”

You stare at this one for even longer. After a while you feel like you’re about to cry. You still don’t understand and you just want Seungcheol to fuck you because you’re just so needy.

“I, I don’t understand daddy,” you sob.

“That’s okay baby.” Seungcheol’s large hand rubs over your stomach. “Let’s think about this a different way. I have brown eyes, which is a dominant gene, so when I put my babies inside of you, just from me alone, they will most likely have brown eyes. Would you like that doll? Babies that have my eyes?”

“Yes daddy, would like it so much.”

“So let’s look at this problem again, okay?”

You nod and start to fill out the punnett square and answer the question. Your handwriting is sloppier than normal but you don’t care because you know Seungcheol is going to give you an A anyways.

“Doing so good for me baby girl, you have three more.”

The next three questions are hell. They take far too long to figure out and that’s even with help from Cheol. At one point he just blatantly tells you the answer and has you repeat it to him just so he can claim you figured it out. The whole time he keeps referencing his genes in relation to yours and it floods your mind with thoughts of Seungcheol filling you up with his cum. It doesn’t help your focus, but you think Seungcheol knows this. 

It takes you nearly thirty minutes to complete the three questions and by then your pussy is aching for Seungcheol. His hand rubs circles into your skin comfortingly, whispering praise to you everytime you answer a question. When you answer the final question Seungcheol’s hand automatically connects to your clit and he starts to rub at your nub.

“What a good girl. You were so good for me finishing your homework. I’m so proud of you, my pretty girl. I’m going to make you feel good now, okay?”

“Thank you daddy.” Pleasure spreads through your body and you lean back against Seungcheol’s body as he wraps his arm around your waist. He presses a kiss into your neck before shifting his hips under you a bit.

“Daddy is going to fuck you now, okay?” You nod and Seungcheol grips your hips tight and starts to pull you up off of him only to drop you back down. Over the time it took you to do your homework your pussy had molded to the shape of Seungcheol’s cock and he’s able to move freely in you, his tip sliding all the way to your cervix. 

“Feels so good daddy~”

“God you fit around me so nice baby girl. Your pussy was made for me and nobody else. All mine.” His hands snake up your shirt and he grabs at your tits through your thin bra. You arch your back into his touch as you continue to bounce on his lap. “Heredity is interesting to think about because it can help you theorize about what your future children might look like. If they’ll have my eyes and your hair color. Or your eyes and my hair? Either way, we’re going to have such pretty children, aren’t we baby?”

“Oh yes daddy,” you whine. “Such cute babies.”

“Just like their mommy,” Seungcheol whispers into your ear, his warm breath fanning over your ear and sending goosebumps down your arm. “You like that as much as I do, don’t you, pretty girl? You wanna carry my babies just as much as I want to put them in you? Am I right?”

“So right daddy,” you tell him as you continue to split yourself onto his cock. “I want you to fill me up with your cum.”

“That’s my good girl. Letting me breed her slutty little pussy. Gonna fill your womb up with babies,” Seungcheol says. “Fuck Y/N.” All of a sudden Seungcheol is pulling you off of him. Your wobbly legs land on the floor and Seungcheol is turning you around and pushing you up onto his desk.

He spreads your thighs with his thick hands and sheaths himself back into you. At the new position he hits into you at a different angle and you have to stop yourself from actually drooling at the feeling.

As Seungcheol’s hips buck into you, you stare up at the man and take in his features. His high cheekbones and full cherry lips and prominent nose. To most people his face would look composed and neutral, but you’ve spent enough time with him to tell he’s concentrating. His eye brows are a bit furrowed and his lips are pressed together more than normal. Your eyes trace against his jawline, looking at the way the muscles are a bit clenched, and then trail up to his eyes. When you finally meet his warm eyes with yours you realize he’s been staring right back at you, his eyes narrowed as they stare down his nose at you. When he realizes that you’ve finally made eye contact with him his face shifts as he smirks.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs.

He reaches his hand out to grip your jaw. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip before he pushes it fully into your mouth. You close your lips around the digit and suck on it as he presses down on your tongue. The feel of the rough pad in your mouth has you clenching down, your hand shooting up to grab Seungcheol’s bicep.

“Shit baby girl, it drives me crazy when you squeeze me like that.” You can tell he’s close by the tenseness in his voice. His thrusts get more pointed as he snaps into you and his grip on you gets tighter. “Fuck. Sometimes I hope that you miss a day of taking your birth control, just so I can get you pregnant. You’d look so sexy with your belly plump and your tits heavy. I’d have no choice but to dote on you and take care of the woman carrying my babies.” Seungcheol pulls his thumb out of your mouth and drags his hand down your chin so he can grab you around the neck.

“‘M so close daddy,” you whimper out. “Please breed me.”

Seungcheol’s cock digs deep into you until he’s painting your insides white with his seed. The feeling of his semen shooting inside of you tips you over the edge and you clench down on Seungcheol, your back arching off his desk and your legs scrambling around to find purchase. Seungcheol’s grip on your throat is the only thing that grounds you as you climax. When you both finally come down from your orgasms you barely get time to catch your breath because Seungcheol is pulling you to sit up so he can press his lips against yours.

Your lips move in sync with his and he holds you tight against his firm body. His hand tangles into your hair while the other presses into the small of your back. Seungcheol tastes like coffee and mints as he licks into your mouth. Your body is still a bit unstable and you tremble as he kisses you lovingly.

When he pulls away you fall into his chest, finally able to catch your breath. “My good good, so beautiful.” As gingerly as he can, Seungcheol pulls out of you. Some of his cum spills out of you as he pulls out and he reaches down to scoop it up and finger it right back into you. You squirm around as his digits breach your entrance but soon he’s pulling them back out again. He presses the tips to your lips and you wrap your mouth around them, cleaning them off.

When he pulls them away you speak. “Thank you daddy. Always makes me feel so good.”

“Of course baby. I love taking care of my pretty girl.” He leans down to kiss your collar bone before he pulls away from you. As always he hands you your clothes back and helps you get dresses before he hands you one of the water bottles he keeps in his office mini fridge just for you.

You’re curled up in Seungcheol’s lap, sipping on the water, when you look up at the time. “Oh! I have to get going daddy. I’ll see you tomorrow!” With that you press a kiss to his cheek and quickly scramble off his lap before you’re out the door.

Your worksheet is forgotten on Seungcheol’s desk but it was ruined from your guys’ escapades anyways, so it didn’t really matter. Seungcheol is just going to give you an A anyways.

As you rush off to go meet your friends you think back to Seungcheol’s words and start to plan what day to stop taking your birth control. 

taglist: @pandorashbox @billboard-singer @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #scoups #scoups smut #scoups fanfic #scoups x reader #scoups imagines #scoups scenarios #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fanfic #svt seungcheol #svt scoups #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #rru.fics #rru.writes #★ mdni

[ambers-archive]

who am i, darling to you? (iv)

loss of my life

Bookmarked on page fifteen, the last page of chapter three, the closed book in your hands stand still against your heavy heart. You were waiting to read chapter four together with her. The story of Rapunzel was your favorite princess story. One of a long lost princess with beautiful long hair who fought to live the life she wanted. And she was able to fall in love in the midst of it all. 

It was a staple bedtime story; you went to sleep hanging onto the words.

Sometimes when you see your mom in your dreams; you can hear her sweet voice reading you the stories, and you can feel her gentle kisses even now. A beautiful yet haunting reminder of her. 

You never got to read chapter four, and you haven't been able to move the handmade bookmark since your mom stopped on chapter three seventeen years ago. It's her birthday today, seventeen years of missed laughter, hugs, and love. Maybe it would have been bearable if you had someone to share the burden with, someone who knew her just as intensely.

But the only two other people were dead along with her.

"Alright, let's go over our story one more time," Hotch says, his voice low as he walks into your honeymoon suite.

It had been a few days since you two checked in, it was a beautiful suite overlooking the sea. You loved the sea and the feeling of sand between your toes, but just like many of the things you loved - it was just out of your grasp.

You were spending the days discussing specifics of stories, anniversaries, birthdays, and first kisses. All set to disappear into an imagined world and meet him in a love story that was not yours. You two weren't hopelessly in love on your honeymoon, and Maya wasn't you. That story was only saved for last, hidden deep within your heart under-heading the section labeled grief. 

Because where else can one store unspent love. 

You've never even held him, but your feelings for Hotch are nothing short of love. You've never held him, and yet you have memorized every dimple, freckle, and crease by his eyes.

He has never touched you, and yet has touched every fiber of your being. 

And so many sleepless you stayed up, next to him, feeling his heartbeat you wondered what it would be like to press yourself against his larger body. To tuck yourself underneath his arm and lay your head against chest as if you belonged there all along. 

You resisted of course. 

“We met at one of the galleries I was showing; you bought all of my paintings and asked me out to dinner later that night,” You respond quietly, your hand still ghosting over the peeking bookmark. Feeling the lines of the book's spine, it was a small but thick paperback book. Not worth much, but to you, it was priceless, one of your most prized possessions.

You manage to catch the last of his question, all your focus on your self-inflicted sorrow. "Ages?"

"Um," You start, trying to piece the story together; it's buried somewhere deep in your head, this past week has just been so hard. You always visit your mom on her birthday, but now you know it won't be possible.

Your pain was always such an imposition.

"If we're going to do this, I need your undivided attention,” Hotch’s voice breaks through your head. You turn to face him, his eyes focused on the case file, not even sparing you a glance.

"Sorry, sir. It’s just a lot to think about.”

“I told you it would be. If you’re not ready for this, Agent.” You wish he would stop calling you Agent, it's an unnecessary boundary he's creating to distance himself from you. 

“I am,” You cut through his words, swallowing the dryness forming in your throat. "Of course, I am." You repeat back, standing up straighter this time, trying not to let the indifference in his words bother you.

He passes you his notes, filled with Maya and James's life. Their story, their family. They're respectively twenty-six and forty, so a little off here and there. James has a big family that Maya is able to fall into, two brothers and a sister. No kids yet, they're just enjoying life with the two of them.

It would be perfect if it was yours to truly live in.

Perfect, just not yours. Always yours to love, but never to keep.

"This case is one of the most important the team has had in a long time. Everyone is counting on us; memorize the notes. We should take this opportunity to meet other couples tonight at the welcome dinner." He pauses for a second, surveying and noticing the book in your hands. You defensively put the book away, shielding your memories from his judgmental eyes, ripping yourself away from any judgment, away from a job that punishes you for caring.

"I can't do my job successfully if I'm always watching over my shoulder, babysitting a capable agent," he says, as he walks out of the room, selfishly avoiding your eyes so he can shield himself from the pain he's inflicted. The door shuts quietly, but no thoughts seem to take over, and you suddenly feel small. Like a child who's been abandoned, left alone, and to fend for herself.

༺༻

You sit there, staring at the closed door, trying to steady your breathing. The silence in the room grows louder, as if it were taunting you, reminding you of your isolation. You clutch the book tighter, as if it could anchor you to some semblance of stability.

Minutes pass, maybe hours. Time blurs as your mind drifts between memories of your mother and the pressing reality of the case. The sun slowly sets, casting long shadows across the room. 

And you wish you could just sit there and wallow in your misery but the reality of the case pulls you out, your feelings will just have to wait. 

As the orange from the evening sky peaks through the curtains, you hear the door open again. Hotch steps back into the room, his expression softer yet determined. "Strauss wanted to have a conference call with the director. She thinks the welcome dinner is a good approach."

You look up from the case notes, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. "When should we start heading there?" 

"In about an hour, we should get there early to take in the environment. The Unsub could be anyone." You nod as he finishes the last of his sentence, the tension is still there letting you loose only to suffocate you once again. 

"Just give me a few minutes to shower." You say not meeting his eyes.

Making your way to the shared bathroom you let the warm shower engulf you. Wishing to wash away your insecurities and the weight of the day. You close your eyes and visualize the tension fading with every drop of water, but it doesn't last nearly as long as you would like it to. Reluctantly, you walk out of the shower as your obligations drag you back.

Thinking of these small things makes you believe she is an actual person, not just someone you and the team invented. The details bring her to life, giving her a heartbeat within your imagination.

You rarely had time to dress up since work took most of your time and energy. You take the time to do your hair and for a second you get to engage in something fun, a constant which was sperate from the rest of the world. Reaching instinctively to play with your bracelet, you sigh.

It was an evil eye bracelet, or as your family called it, nazar. It was a gift from your Nani (grandmother); she said it would keep you safe from everything evil. You smile to yourself, thinking about her words and the warmth they still bring you.

If only there was someone else who loved you just as much now.

Hotch's knock on your bathroom door pulls you out of your trance, "Just a second!" You say adjusting your dress. 

Taking one more look in the mirror, you open the door, surprised by how good he looks. He always wore suits, but before you stands a man in a dark gray shirt, tucked into his trousers, his usually neat hair now slightly tousled, framing his face.

You smile at him, for a second forgetting that you're upset at him.

"I didn't know you had curly hair," he says, looking at you with a small smile on his lips. You mirror him briefly, putting on your earrings.

"It's hard to maintain, especially at work, so I just straighten it a lot." You had your hair moved to the side; you can't remember the last time he had looked at you for so long.

"It suits you."

"I get it from my mom. Everyone told me I look like my dad growing up, but the one thing I got from her is the hair," you say, looking for your shoes. Hotch is standing behind you, hands in his pockets.

"You don't talk about them much," he says, his tone softer now, more curious than probing.

"Once I start, I can't stop."

"I was the same way with Beth, especially around Jack. But there are people who care about you here, including me." You don't know when he came so close to you, his face now merely inches away, his presence suddenly more comforting than intimidating.

Suddenly, your perfectly guarded emotions come undone. "I have so many memories of her; it's an overflow sometimes."

"Then let's start small. What is your favorite memory?"

You let out a small smile, walking towards the dresser and pulling out the book to show him.

"Rapunzel?" he asks with amusement. "I didn't know you liked fairytales."

"My mother did. She used to read me a ton of them, but this one was my favorite."

Recognition flashes in his eyes as if he suddenly remembers something. "I'm sorry, it's not hard when people we love leave." He knows grief better than most people. Although you weren't there when Beth died, you can still see remnants of who he used to be underneath.

A man torn between the love for his wife and duty.

"I think you're wonderful despite everything you've gone through. I know it's easy to feel responsible for what happened, but it wasn't your fault," you say softly, still holding onto your book.

Hotch nods, taking his hands out of his pockets and resting them on your shoulders. It's hesitant, as if he's unsure, but you don't mind.

"I was mad at them for coming home so late," you whisper, meeting his eyes.

"My dad promised to watch a new movie with me. I waited by the door all night. But they never came. Today is her birthday, and I'm missing it."

"This is why you always take this week off?" He asks.

Nodding, you tighten your grip on the book. "I always visit her grave, and since they're buried together, I visit my dad's too."

Before you can take in what's happening, Hotch lets his hands fall from your shoulders with a look of determination. And before you can ask him about the welcome dinner he starts walking towards his keys. 

"Tell me where."

"W-hat about the dinner?" You ask barely able to register the man in front of you. 

"We will have other opportunities. Right now, you should be with your mom on her birthday. I spent too long letting this job keep me from the people I love. I can't see it happen to you."

"It's all the way back home."

"That's alright. I can probably call in some favors and have the jet get us there in a few hours," he says earnestly.

You look at him, taken aback by his determination. "Are you sure? What about Strauss?" 

Hotch nods opening the door for you. "You're honoring your mother. I'll explain the situation, don't worry about her." 

How could someone not fall in love with him?

taglist: @zaddyhotch @mrs-ssa-hotch

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #writing #my writing #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds fanfic

[sugalaritae]

Congrats again on the milestone! Could I request a drabble for this prompt?

Making out as a distraction x Accidental kiss

Maybe YoonKook x Reader? In whatever configuration you like 👉👈

summary: You push yourself against Jungkook and slip a leg between his as you begin to move to the music. 

“Relax,” you whisper with a soft smile. 

“I’m trying,” he says with a shaky voice.

or Yoongi, Jungkook, and you are on a road trip across country and you've taken a wrong (but right) turn.

pairing: min yoongi x f! reader x jeon jungkook

genre: smut. this is just pwp

au: roadtrip, sort of s2l, one bed!

rating: 18+

word count: 4.5k

warnings: tension, semi-public kissing, dancing with jungkook (that's a warning), a sun dress from the 90s, drinking, mentions of a nicotine being tasted in a kiss, just so so much kissing, lots of discussion of consent and what everyone wants and doesn't want (do this everyone! it's good practice), or*l sex (f receiving and m, both times m giving), v*ginal sex with a condom, choking, voyeurism, face f*cking (mxm), spit, sw*llowing, aftercare

author’s note: honestly this idea came from a in-depth conversation with @minttangerines @minisugakoobies and @bangtanintotheroom several months ago about what a yoonkook fic based on Y tu mamá también would look like. i've been wanting to write it ever since and while it's not that plot at all, it was lightly influenced by the dance scene (tho in my fic yoongi and jungkook are sort of in a "relationship"). thank you to all the above mentioned loves for their encouragement, to Sunny for her request, and to AJ for looking this over!! The title is from the song 'places' by the blaze

The music is swaying around like wind. The four-piece band comprised of men in their forties and fifties are on a stage behind you. There is a drink in front of you. Yoongi and Jungkook sit in front of you as they softly argue about Jungkook's mess up. Behind them is the beach. Beautiful dark sand and then nothing. You know the ocean is about fifty feet away from where you are sitting, but you can’t see it, the water mirroring the dark sky above. If you listen closely though, you can hear the sounds of the waves as they brush against the shore. 

Slowly, the whole scene moves together into one reality as you bring yourself back into your body. It’s been a stressful day. The three of you weren’t supposed to be here. The town you were aiming for is about 250 miles in a different direction, but Jungkook had misread the signs and made a wrong turn and no one had noticed until it was too late to turn around. You had seen the little beachside bar from the road and suggested that you all take a break from driving; maybe have a drink and get a hotel room for the night. The bar is empty, save for the three of you, the band, bartender and a couple in the corner. 

“Jungkook–” you say suddenly and at the same time as you set your pint of beer down on the table with a little more strength than you had intended. 

He looks at you with surprise. 

“Dance with me.”

You look at the two men who are following you with heavy gazes as you stand up and fix your dress. You don’t normally wear dresses, but today was hot in the car and you weren’t really interested in wearing leggings and a tank top. So you wore the only dress you had - a light yellow one with thick straps and buttons down the front that reminded you of something your mother wore in the 90s. 

You hold out your hand for him. 

“Come on,” you say not as a question, but as a command and watch as he looks between your face and hand before gently setting his hand on top of yours. You wrap your smaller one around his much bigger one and lead him to a spot on the beach, still under the lights of the bar but not in it. 

He stands there for a moment, shy, and it pulls a smile from you. Grabbing his hands in yours, you guide them to your waist and slip your hands up his biceps until you can rest your forearms on his shoulders. 

You want to make him relax. 

You can tell that he’s feeling guilty for having driven so far off course. There is the issue of money and gas. The three of you know that one of the guys will have to ask you for money and it will come from your savings, which is why neither of them have brought it up and you’re still reconciling that. But you’re telling yourself that it will be okay. 

For now, you’re deciding to concentrate on dancing with Jungkook instead. It’s a good distraction. 

You push yourself against Jungkook and slip a leg between his as you begin to move to the music. 

“Relax,” you whisper with a soft smile. 

“I’m trying,” he says with a shaky voice. 

You slide your hand up his shoulder until your thumb is touching his neck and you guide the soft pad of your thumb back and forth against his skin, feeling the veins and muscles that tense and then slowly relax. His hands on your waist pull you closer and you smile as you rest your cheek against his pec. You close your eyes as he begins to lead you, the both of you moving to the music and forgetting the world around you. 

When your cousin had suggested that you catch a ride with his friends who were going in the same direction as your new home, you hadn’t thought that they would be two handsome friends. Jungkook had been so excited to meet you, a kind and happy energy as he opened the front door and offered to load your suitcases into the trunk of the car. Yoongi had been polite and quiet until the first day was almost over and then suddenly, it was like he decided that he did like you. Up until tonight they had been staying in one hotel room and you, in another. Tonight, you couldn’t afford that and as you swayed with Jungkook pressed tight against your body, you find yourself hoping that he is someone who likes cuddling because the room only has one bed. 

His body relaxes pressed against you and you feel a hand drift lower. He doesn’t move to touch your actual cheeks, but you can tell he’s thinking about it. He moves two fingers gently over your ass while his one hand stays put on your lower back, only for a moment though before he moves it gently up and down your back. You hum deep in your throat and your fingers drift up into his long hair. 

The night feels electric with the buzzing from the old (probably unsafe) lights strung up above you. The band seems to only be playing slow songs and you’re not sure if it’s for the benefit of you and Jungkook, but you’re not going to question it. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper as you move to look up at him and at just the same moment, he moves to be at your level, turning to look at you.

The two of you bump into each other, your lips brushing against each other and immediately he pulls away when you’re certain that you would be okay if he had kissed you. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles and you smile. 

“It’s okay.” 

Jungkook slowly separates himself from you and holds out his hand for you to take, nodding toward the table where Yoongi still is. You shake your head and stay put, your body still swaying a little to the music until you see him take a seat at the table and you see that Yoongi has turned his seat to face where you and Jungkook were dancing. You smile at him and give a little wave and then turn and walk out toward the water. 

It seems like there is no moon out but you can see its faded light behind a cloud. 

You feel like anything could happen tonight. Your life is in a massive shift with no home yet to call your own and all of your belongings in two suitcases. You sold everything else, wanting to leave everything behind and start fresh. It’s a good but terrifying feeling. The water, with its dark colour,  is a bit like that, you notice as you get closer. The sand darkened with each kiss of a wave. You are free to live your life however you want and it’s an excitement unknown like the ocean in front of you. 

“He should have kissed you,” a voice says to your left. Yoongi’s voice. 

You smile without turning toward him, but you nod. 

“He should have, but he’s shy and it’s really endearing.” 

“How come you didn’t ask me to dance?” he asks. 

You laugh lightly, “Would you have if I had asked?” 

He shakes his head, “No.” 

“Didn’t think so.”

There’s a pause and both of you watch the water in front of you. You don’t know much about where Yoongi and Jungkook are going or what they’re going to do there but you don’t really care. You’re leaving your past behind so that you can start fresh and you’re not entirely interested in two men coming into your life. 

You are interested in whatever Yoongi is about to say though. 

“I would have kissed you, though.” 

“Why don’t you now?” you ask and this time you turn to him completely. 

The lights from the bar shine soft shadows across his body and face. He’s beautiful. 

You take a deep breath, the cool fresh breeze from the ocean fills your lungs and releases it for a moment before he takes a step toward you and cups your face gently in his hands, kissing you softly. You sigh against him and your hands grip the bottom of his biceps. 

It’s a chaste kiss at first but then one of his hands falls from your face and he grips your hip tightly pulling you to him. You part your lips and tease his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like the cheap whiskey he was drinking and leftover nicotine from a cigarette he smoked when you first arrived. 

He pulls you flush to him and this time, unlike Jungkook, he slips his hand down to your ass. His lips part and he welcomes your tongue with his. He tastes like freedom and the unknown. You moan into his mouth and he swallows it happily. 

Then his lips drift from yours and he kisses your cheek and jaw. You move your head to give him more room so he can kiss your neck and he does. Then he nips at your earlobe and it sends a shiver up your spine to meet his mouth. 

“I want to watch you with him,” he whispers and you release a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. 

“Will he want that?” you ask. 

“Yes.” 

It’s a whisper in your ear, but it sends another shiver, this time down your spine and you push your hips to his. 

“I want you after.” 

“Maybe.” 

He kisses you again and this time you don’t hesitate against each other. You dive in and drag his hand that has, until now, stayed on your neck, slowly down your front, stopping briefly at your breast as he feels your nipple perk under his fingers. Your breathing is shallow and you feel a rush of pleasure as he slips his hand to the side and pushes his thumb gently under the material of your dress until it brushes over your bare nipple and you gasp against his lips. 

You jump a little as you feel a body press against your back, wandering hands down your full hips. 

“Can I fuck you?” Jungkook whispers against your ear before he licks along your ear. 

“Please,” you say against Yoongi who chuckles and pulls away.

“I think we should move to our room then,” he says. 

The hotel room isn’t anything special. The bedspread looks old and is definitely polyester, but you don’t care because two men are currently undressing you. Yoongi is behind you, kissing and licking at your neck as Jungkook unbuttons your dress enough to reveal your bare breasts because you were too tired to try and find your bra when you got dressed this morning. You let the dress fall from your shoulders and arms. Yoongi’s hands drift under your arms and cup your breasts and Jungkook gets on his knees in front of you. 

You feel overwhelmed, your head swimming as Jungkook kisses your clothed cunt. 

“You should take those off of her, I want you to tell me what she tastes like,” Yoongi says as he looks over your shoulder at the man in front of you. 

Jungkook does, gripping your underwear with his hands and tugging them down. You step out of them with his guidance, his gentle hands calloused a little on his palms, but he treats you like he could break you. 

Your hands have felt heavy at your sides, but now they find his hair and you bury your fingers there as he kisses the inside of your thighs making his way to you. Then he licks gently up your slit. You feel his fingers part your lips and his tongue slides against you, your excitement gathering on his tongue. 

“Oh,” you moan. 

“That’s right, baby, let him taste you. I’ll wait until he’s done with you,” Yoongi whispers against your neck and you shiver. 

Jungkook is good with his tongue and you expect him to slip a finger into you, but he doesn’t, using only his tongue to pleasure you. His tongue presses against your clit with a mixture of pressure and moisture. You moan loudly as Yoongi’s fingers pinch and lightly twist at your sensitive nipples. 

“I’m—“ you start and your breath hitches.

“Kook, stop,” Yoongi commands and suddenly you're left standing alone without Jungkook’s mouth on you and you’re so close, but you feel abandoned. 

“No,” you whimper. 

“Baby, are you okay if Jungkook fucks you now?” Yoongi asks. 

You nod. 

“What are you okay with? Are there things that you don’t want or don’t like?” he asks as Jungkook pushes himself up to standing in front of you and suddenly you’re aware that Yoongi has dropped his hands from your breasts to rest on your hips. 

You feel safe and respected because Jungkook isn’t looking at your body, but at your face as he waits for your answer. 

“I don’t want anal or being touched there,” you start. 

Yoongi and Jungkook nod. 

“Okay, anything else?” Jungkook asks and you like that he’s the one asking it this time. 

“Don’t call me princess, baby is fine, but I don’t want any specifically gendered names,” you say to Jungkook and he nods. “I don’t want anything really rough, but I want Yoongi to choke me when I’m close if you’re comfortable.” 

“Let me know and I’ll do it. What do you mean by really rough?” Yoongi asks. 

“No slapping or degrading. I don’t want that.” 

Jungkook nods. 

“I need aftercare. I need to feel both of you against me after.” 

Yoongi’s hands run up and down your hips gently as he asks, “Anything else, baby?” 

You shake your head. 

“Jungkook, anything you want from her or from me?” he asks. 

Jungkook nods. “Can you lick my nipples?” he asks and this time you nod. 

“That’s all. Yoongi?” 

He starts to Jungkook. “I want to kiss you while you still have her on your tongue." He turns to you. "I want to eat you out after he’s fucked you, and then I want you to finish me off, Kook.” 

Jungkook nods again and you wonder how many times they’ve done this. Questions fly through your head and you feel silly for not having asked them before. You don’t know if they’re a couple, but you haven’t noticed anything and then you don’t know if Yoongi would be the kind of person who would be public about his relationships. 

“I can do that,” Jungkook says and the two men lock eyes.

It’s powerful to be stuck between them and slowly, Jungkook steps into you and kisses Yoongi over your shoulder. You rest your head against Yoongi’s shoulder and your gaze drifts over to them. You watch as Yoongi’s tongue slips over Jungkook’s and then the two of them part. 

“You are exquisite. Taste better than anything I could have imagined.” Yoongi says before he kisses your neck. 

Jungkook watches you. His gaze is heavy, his eyes lidded, pupils blown and you can’t take your gaze off him. 

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks after a beat and you nod. 

“Please.” 

His kiss is more needy than Yoongi’s was. You feel Jungkook’s and Yoongi’s fingers lace together, both their palms pressing against your skin and you moan against his lips which causes him to open them and you can taste little remnants of yourself on his tongue. 

You move your hands and pull his shirt up, separating from him briefly so that you can pull his shirt off him, which he helps with by separating his hands from Yoongi’s and he holds his arms up. The garment gets caught on his fingers and the two of you laugh as he helps you. You take him in with a gasp. 

“Fuck.” 

A smirk tugs the corner of his lips up and it’s a look that makes you feel weak in the knees. 

Yoongi kisses your neck, licking where he presses kisses, and you watch as Jungkook takes off his jeans, stepping out of them. He’s gorgeous, fitter than anyone you’ve ever been with and for a moment a brief spark of insecurity flashes through you because you’re softer than him. His cock is erect and you can’t take your eyes off his darkened tip. 

“Condom?” he asks and you nod. 

Yoongi guides you backward to the bed and then steps out from behind you and you sit down on the polyester cover. It scratches against your ass as you move upward, Jungkook kisses you again, his hands pressing into the mattress and caging you in. It makes you feel safe and sexy. You remind yourself that he wants you and you close your eyes falling into his kiss. You can feel his cock against your thigh and you open your legs wide for him, making room for him between them. 

Jungkook stops kissing for a moment as Yoongi hands him a condom and you watch as Jungkook rips it open and rolls the thin latex onto himself. He looks trapped fighting against the material of it and you reach between your bodies and take him in your hand, stroking him for a moment as Yoongi and he kiss. 

Then Yoongi is stepping away and you watch him, cheek pressed to the bedspread, as he pulls a chair closer to the bed and sits down. He’s looking at the two of you like you’re the most beautiful human beings he’s ever seen and you find your body reacting to his gaze. Jungkook takes advantage of the position of your head and kisses your neck, biting softly and then pulling away quickly and whispering against your skin as he asks if that was okay and you answer with a short nod. 

He holds your wrist lightly and brings your hand from his cock to his pec, reminding you that he wants you to touch and lick his nipples. You brush your thumb over the erect little bud and he lets out a deep breath against your skin. You feel his cock head press against your cunt and you breathe in as he presses himself into you. Both of you gasp as he pushes all the way into you, knocking from Yoongi’s gaze. Your hand grips his pec, fingers digging into his skin gently. 

He pauses, allowing you to adjust to him. He’s thicker than other men you’ve been with and it takes you a moment, your body relaxing around him. 

“You can move, baby,” you say softly and he bites again at your neck. 

You moan loud at this. 

He starts slow, sliding out almost the full way and then pushing into you. He feels amazing, filling you each time. 

“Faster,” you moan and wrap your legs around his waist, locking your feet at the ankles easily. 

He moans against your skin and then his lips find yours again and he kisses you while he pushes into you faster and stronger. Your back arches against the bed and out of the corner of your eye, you can see Yoongi shift slightly. You’re not close yet. You can feel the familiar build in your stomach, but you’re not close. He seems to notice this, so he stays. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, winds an arm under where you’ve separated from the bed and lifts you. You’re used to men trying to lift you, but he does it with ease, flipping the two of you over in the bed, his cock slipping out of you as he does so and you adjust a little over him before you guide him back to your entrance and sit down on him. Yoongi watches as both your heads fall back with the feeling. 

You bend down and take his nipple between your lips. You slip your tongue around him, licking at his sweaty skin, tasting salt as you fuck yourself on his cock. You stay that way for a moment, relishing in how Jungkook is under you, moaning your name like it’s a prayer, a holy name. 

He’s talking through all of this, you realize. Guiding you, telling you how well you’re doing. 

You break your kiss from Jungkook’s chest and lift one knee up, resting your foot against the bedspread and the new angle pushes you closer and closer.

“I’m close, Yoongi,” you say and you close your eyes tight as you pick up your speed. 

You feel the mattress dip a little and Yoongi’s hand gently grips your neck. He leans into the side of your head and takes your earlobe between his teeth, biting gently as his grip tightens. 

“Keep going, baby,” Jungkook commands and you keep the movement. 

Everything is overwhelming, the feeling builds and you feel Jungkook’s hand press against your lower stomach, helping you over that edge. Yoongi’s fingers press into the sides of your throat in the perfect way and you love this; you knew you could trust him to choke you right. 

Your walls clench around Jungkook’s cock as your body shakes. Your orgasm ricochets through your body. Jungkook pushes into you, thrusting upward, fucking you through it before you feel him come. He fills the condom and you wish you could feel him so that Yoongi could lick his cum out of you. 

Yoongi kisses your temple. 

“You did so well, baby. So well,” he purrs in your ear and you feel yourself fall against him as his hand releases your neck. 

Jungkook below you watches, his chest rising and falling as he tries to gather himself. After a moment you move off him and he catches the condom before it comes off. 

“Do you need a moment before I…” Yoongi asks and you nod. 

Jungkook moves off the bed to throw the condom and Yoongi slips his shirt off and lays down next to you, guiding you to rest your head against his chest. 

“You did so, so well, I’m so proud of you,” he whispers to you as his hands move over your back and arm, up and down. 

You move your head to capture his lips in a kiss and he kisses you softly before you decide you’re ready again.

“Can I have you, all of you?” you ask against his lips and he smiles. 

“Maybe tomorrow morning. Could I wake you up?”

You nod. 

He directs you off him and onto the bed properly as he kisses you and you watch as he kisses down your body. Stopping briefly to pay attention to your breasts again. He licks and bites softly. His fingertips move gently over your sensitive skin and it feels like electricity. You feel alive and tender and so fucking human. 

His lips capture your clitoral hood in an intimate kiss. He tugs slightly and you moan, your hands finding a home in his hair. It’s soft. He is skilled. His tongue pushes into you and licks up and out, over and over and over and over until you feel a little dizzy, your eyes closing tight. 

Jungkook sits beside you, running his fingers gently down your cheek. He leans down and kisses you fully. 

“Do you want to be choked again?” he asks and you shake your head. 

He kisses you as Yoongi licks, but never penetrating you with anything but his tongue. You’re happy for this because you feel sensitive and already this is broaching the feeling of being oversensitive. 

Your second orgasm isn’t as powerful as the first, but your back breaks its relationship with the bed. You moan into Jungkook’s mouth and he seems to relish in this. Yoongi kisses the inside of your thigh tenderly as his hands move up and down your legs, gripping your ankles gently and tugging you back to earth. 

“Baby, are you okay if Jungkookie finishes me off or do you need someone to hold you?” Yoongi asks. 

It takes you a moment to answer, but Yoongi never moves. Instead, he just tightens his grip ever-so-gently on your ankles and keeps you steady. 

“Come back to me after?” you ask.

“Of course,” both men say at the same time, but Yoongi punctuates his with a kiss on your knee and you feel special.

Jungkook makes sure to help you move so your head is resting against the pillows and under the blankets. He kisses you gently on the lips and then knee-walks over to Yoongi. You watch as Jungkook slides off the bed and Yoongi grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him into a kiss. It’s sexy, long. Jungkook’s hands work on Yoongi’s black trousers, and then as soon as his pants are at his ankles, Yoongi’s hands push down on Jungkook’s shoulders and you watch as the younger man gets on his knees. 

Jungkook licks the underside of Yoongi’s cock which pulls his name from Yoongi’s mouth. He does this a few more times before he takes all of Yoongi in one go and it’s amazing to watch. 

They have done this before, you think as you watch Yoongi grip the back of Jungkook’s head. 

“Can I fuck your face?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook nods as best he can. 

You watch the muscles in Jungkook’s jaw relax as Yoongi’s fingers curl Jungkook’s hair around them and he begins a fast pace. This time it’s Yoongi who is talking Jungkook through fucking him. Spit falls from around Yoongi’s cock and out of Jungkook’s mouth landing on his chest and shining there. It’s beautiful and sexy and it almost makes you ready again, but you’re exhausted. 

Your fingers dance along your collarbone as you watch though, desperate for touch. Yoongi finishes in Jungkook’s mouth and pulls out in a fast movement that makes even your jaw ache. Cum and spit fall out of Jungkook’s mouth and onto his chin. Yoongi reaches down and gathers it up on his fingers and pushes it back into the other’s mouth. 

“Swallow,” Yoongi commands and you take a breath at the tone. It’s deep and makes your legs shake a little in anticipation of what might be happening when you wake the next morning. 

Jungkook follows the command and you watch his throat move with the action. He sticks his tongue out and Yoongi nods.

“Well done. You did well.” 

Yoongi kisses Jungkook softly as the younger stands. 

Yoongi slips under the covers and presses his body to yours.  Jungkook walks around the bed and slips in the other side and does the same. You feel safe here. Jungkook brings a leg over yours and you feel caged in and comfortable. 

“You both did so well tonight. I’m so proud of you both,” Yoongi says as his hand moves over Jungkook’s arm and his lips kiss your temple and cheek. 

You don’t know what your future holds and you feel sleep join the weight of the two bodies of the men on either side of you. You are happy. Content. Whatever happens in this life you will have this memory and it feels like the start of a new past. 

©sugalaritae, 2023. Do NOT repost, edit, or translate any of my work. I only post on ao3 and tumblr

if you liked what you read please comment, reblog, and give likes!!

#jeon jungkook smut #min yoongi smut #bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi fic #jeon jungkook fic #suga x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #min yoongi x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #min yoongi x jeon jungkook #bangtantheatrenet #btswritersclub #btshoneyhive #thekpopuniverse

[rhondafromhr]

Finished the second chapter of my ‘nerds corruption au’ story!

I have way too much free time right now and I’m also having way too much fun writing this so here’s another chapter, this idea has me in an absolute chokehold.

Link to Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/rhondafromhr/738099850581835776/i-ended-up-writing-it-after-all-ill-probably

“We’re Gonna Become the Bullies”

Chapter 2: They’re Walking a Very Fine Line

Paul’s been Richie’s guardian for going on four years now and in that time, Richie’s never given him much of a reason to worry. He’s never been sent to the principal’s office or the police station, he keeps his grades up, he chose the math club over the smoke club and the most rebellious thing he ever does is stay up late on a school night watching anime. More importantly, he tells Paul everything - when he gets bullied at school, when he’s struggling with a class, when he has a fight with Ruth (Oh God, Paul remembers, he promised they’ll go see The Barbecue Monologues to show her their support. Ugh. He does not like musicals). If he’s going to be out late, he always texts Paul to let him know where he is, what he’s doing and about when he thinks he‘ll be home.

At least he did until Friday night. He said he was going to Pete’s after school for a D&D session and he should be home around eleven. But then eleven o’clock rolled around and Richie didn’t appear, nor did a heads up that he was going to be late. Paul ignored the slight gnawing anxiety. There’s no reason to worry, he told himself, they probably just got really caught up in their game. From the few times Richie’s hosted D&D night at their place, he knows how intense they get with it.

But then it was a quarter past eleven and still no sign of him. He texted: hey, haven’t heard from you, everything okay? No answer. Ten more minutes passed and eventually he caved and called. Nothing. He tried two more times and still nothing. By eleven forty-five he was desperate enough to call Ted and ask if he’d heard anything from Peter. He hadn’t and he was none too pleased with Paul for interrupting his favorite pastime (“screwin’ around with another man’s wife”). Apparently, Ted had him on speaker, because Charlotte heard and she was much nicer about it. She told Paul they’d notify him if they heard anything and asked him to please let them know once Richie got home safe. Just when he was on the verge of a panic attack, he heard the lock clicking on the front door as Richie let himself in. By now it was almost two in the morning. Paul exhaled and the tension left his body. He’d never felt this relieved in his life. Obviously, Richie had some explaining to do, but at least he was here. At least Paul finally knew he was safe.

“Hi, Richie. Did something happen? Usually you at least shoot me a text if you’re going to be out late.” Something was definitely off. Richie’s clothes were disheveled and the way he rubbed his arm was subtly different from the way he usually does it - his hand rested on his shoulder rather than his forearm and he winced as if there was some physical pain he was trying to relieve. Did he get hurt? Why didn’t he call Paul for help if he got hurt?

“Oh, uh, sorry, Paul. We just got super into the campaign and I guess the time got away from us. Won’t happen again. I’m pretty tired now, I think I’m going to head to bed. Goodnight!” He rushed to his room before Paul could ask any follow-up questions.

“Goodnight, Richie,” Paul said with a sigh. He wasn’t convinced, but maybe Richie just needed time to open up about whatever actually happened. He always did eventually.

That night still weighs on Paul’s mind as he drives Richie to school Monday morning. Richie seems distracted, too. Without his usual enthusiastic rambling about the merits of subs versus dubs or why there should be a copy of the full Attack on Titan box set in the library of congress, the car feels eerily quiet. Paul turns on the radio to try and fill the silence, but the cheery, up-tempo song that comes on somehow creates an even weirder atmosphere. They finally pull up in front of the school and say their goodbyes.

Just as he’s about to take off, Paul notices a tall boy in a letterman jacket waving to Richie. Richie waves back and approaches him. Wait, isn’t that Max Jägerman? The kid that’s been bullying Richie and his friends for years? He watches as they walk towards the school entrance together. Why is Max being so friendly to him out of the blue? Is this the setup for some horrible, mean-spirited prank? Paul’s heart sinks, but there’s nothing he can do. He’ll just have to trust Richie’s judgment and be there for him if anything happens. He’s definitely going to Beanie’s on his lunch break today. He desperately needs a coffee and Emma will probably be happy to let him vent and maybe even provide some surprisingly thoughtful advice. Knowing her, she’ll welcome any distraction from her usual degrading job duties of making coffee, serving “cold, shitty pastries” and singing for tips.

“Hey, Richie! How was your weekend?” Max greets him enthusiastically. Huh, he’s been upgraded from Shitlips. Not only that, they’re on a first-name basis now. So they’re actually doing this. That night at the Waylon place wasn’t some weird fever dream.

“Uh, it was okay, I guess? My Uncle Paul didn’t seem too happy with me for staying out so late on Friday, but he didn’t, like, ground me or anything. Other than that I didn’t do much, just rewatched Attack on Titan again.” Friday was the weirdest, most stressful night of his life and he had no idea what to expect on Monday, so the comfort and familiarity was much needed.

“Oh, cool. My dad was pretty upset when I told him what happened, too.”

“That makes sense, you did almost die.”

“Yeah, he’s really pissed I didn’t. Wanted to collect the life insurance payout or whatever. You know how dads are,” Max says with a shrug. Richie actually doesn’t know how dads are, but he’s pretty sure that’s not normal.

“Oh, uh, sorry. That sucks.” What else can he say to something like that?

“Anyway, I gave Kyle and Jason the rundown over the weekend and told them to spread the word. Everyone should know by now that you and the rest of the group are not to be messed with and from now on they’ll be answering to all of us. And if anybody tries it you just let me know, it’s a swirly and a flick-it ticket for them. We’ll do it together. I have to teach you the proper form, anyway.”

Oh, right. That part of the deal. It’s not just being cool with Max Jägerman, it’s being “on his level” as he phrased it. Which means joining in on the bullying unless they can use whatever influence they now have to talk Max out of it. Grace did say she thought it was possible back at the Waylon place. Richie agreed at the time. Does he still believe that? Did he ever, or was he just trying to justify their decision? If they can even pull it off, it’s going to be a lot more complicated than just going “Hey, let’s not bully anyone!” and Max being like “Okay, sounds good!”

“Will do, Max, but uh, what if it’s somebody who doesn’t have nuts?” Richie asks. He may or may not be speaking from experience. Truthfully, flick-it tickets have never worked on him, but convincingly faking like they’re the most painful thing in the world has probably saved him from Max inflicting actual pain countless times. Ruth’s acting tips have been really helpful for that.

“Oh, good point! Two swirlies, then. Love your inclusive way of thinking!”

The bell rings, providing Richie with a convenient exit from this conversation.

“Oh, gotta get to honors English, see ya later!”

“Bye, Max.” He hurries to Physics, wondering how the hell Max is in honors English.

When he joins their usual group (plus Grace and Steph) at the lunch table, it seems like everyone else is reeling from the changed dynamic, too. At least Ruth is having a good time with it.

“She actually said hi to me!” Ruth says, her eyes lighting up “Then she told me my headgear is fire today! It was so hot, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife!” There’s only one person at school who still says things are fire unironically. Brenda must have gotten the memo.

“Isn’t she dating Kyle?” Pete points out “I know Max won’t let them, but clearly they’d just go behind his back, right?”

“Yeah,” Richie chimes in “If anything, sneaking around would make it hotter. ‘Forbidden fruit’ and all that.”

“Duh! Everyone knows that, watch some porn! But also, watch some romcoms - I’m the nerdy underdog, obviously she chooses me in the end.”

Before Grace can admonish Ruth for being so lewd or Stephanie can rant about the problematic tropes and implications of the romcom comment (the collective word count of her Twitter threads on the subject rivals War and Peace), Pete raises the question that’s been on all of their minds:

“Can we really be considered underdogs anymore?”

“I don’t know. The vibe is definitely different from before,” replies Richie “God, this morning was so weird. Max just walked up to me and started the most normal ass ‘how was your weekend?’ conversation ever. I mentioned anime and he didn’t even make fun of me, it was fucking surreal!”

“It’s definitely weird, but I have to admit it’s been kind of nice to be able to walk down the hallway without constantly watching my back,” Pete says “Brad Callahan called me Micro-Pete earlier. I told him to back off and he actually did!”

“He called you what?” Startled, they all look up to find Max looming over them at the end of their table. When did he get here? “I fuckin’ told him not to bother you guys, but it looks like my instructions were unclear. C’mon, Pete, let’s go find him. We’ll make sure there are no further misunderstandings.”

“What, like, beat him up? I don’t know, Max, he’s twice my size. And he did back off, maybe we let him off with a warning this time?” Pete protests weakly.

“It’s okay, dude, I’ll be right there with you! Nobody who knows what’s good for them is going to jump in to defend him, either, so it’ll be two against one. And I know pummeling people seems intimidating if you’ve never done it before, but I’ll show you the ropes. I bet you're stronger than you think you are!” Ignoring the subject matter, Pete has to admit Max gives a pretty solid pep talk. Now that they’re sort of friends, maybe Max will send some of that energy his way before the AP Physics exam.

“Okay,” Pete says, still uncertain, but also acutely aware that he’s not getting out of this one.

“Can I come with?” Stephanie asks “I’ve actually always wanted to slap Brad across his stupid, smug face, but this is the final straw. Nobody’s going to disrespect you like that on my watch.” Pete turns beet-red.

“Oh, awesome, three against one!” Max says “Let’s roll out!” Stephanie grabs Pete’s hand and the three take their leave. Max and Steph walk with a menacing, determined stride like predators stalking their prey. Pete trails behind them, a little more hesitant, but still follows.

“Slapping Brad in the face has always been one of my fantasies, too! Probably not in the same way, though,” Ruth says “I should’ve joined them! Life is but a series of missed opportunities.”

“Ruth,” Grace says “have you ever considered taking a vow of chastity? Resisting the temptation you’re feeling until you’re safely married could save your immortal soul.”

“No, of course not! Why would I do that now of all times? I’m not a repulsive loser anymore, somebody might finally touch me!” Ruth sighs dreamily. “I’m telling you guys, me and Brenda, there’s something there.”

“If you’re so worried about our immortal souls, why didn’t you try to stop them just now? I don’t spend my weekends at bible study, but I’m pretty sure wrath is a sin,” says Richie.

“Well, Brad has it coming. He’s always been a no good sinner. It’s not our wrath, it’s God’s wrath. They’re just carrying out His will.”

Richie’s surprised to find himself entertaining Grace’s point. She’s right about Brad, at least. He has always been kind of an asshole. He was picking on Pete earlier, too, and it certainly wasn’t the first time. Then there’s the whole “long-con” aspect of it all - once again, things aren’t going to change overnight. They all need to play along if they don’t want to lose their new status ruling Hatchetfield High by Max’s side. Maybe if the next target is less deserving than Brad, he can test the waters and try to get Max to lay off. For now, Richie will just head to his next class and try to make it through the rest of the school day without being roped into roughing somebody up.

#nerdy prudes must die #npmd #npmd corruption au #max jagerman #richie lipschitz #grace chasity #peter spankoffski #ruth fleming #stephanie lauter #hatchetfield #paul matthews #Paul is Richie’s uncle #Max’s shitty dad is briefly mentioned #cw child abuse mention #lautski

[yoditorian]

Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 2

din/gn!reader

i split the original chapter into two upon rewriting, which is why the second half is missing

original part 2//series masterlist//main masterlist

word count: 3.1k // warnings: some swears, too many italics, that's literally it tho, still 18+ no babies

“-wiped out, no one survived.”

“Well, someone did.”

They’re arguing, still. And you’ve been delivered five meals since being directed into the small office for questioning. So it’s been at least a day, almost two. Probably. The voices in the hall fade, they must be off to discuss your situation with someone who might be able to make the decision. They’ve already searched you and your pack - already confirmed you’re not a spy for the Empire - so what’s the hold up?

You don’t hear a set of footsteps approaching the door, too wrapped up in your own anxieties about what might happen if they don’t let you in. Which is probably why you jump half a foot in your chair when the door slides open. It reveals a woman, dark hair and sharp features, deep green flight suit tied at her waist. She’s pretty, although she’s clearly not sure what to make of you just yet as she eyes the binders at your wrists.

“What do you do?” She asks, arms folded as she leans against the doorframe. You don’t answer straight away, not sure if it might be some kind of test, but at least she doesn’t look overly annoyed that she has to repeat her question to get an answer.

“Pilot, mechanic, fucking janitor - whatever, honestly.” 

“Triple threat,” Her voice is even, but she’s fighting a smile that gives her away immediately. Not a test, then. “What kind of experience you got?”

Shara has to admit that the rumours of a surviving member of the Corellian spy ring had piqued her interest. Jet fuel runs in the blood there, it’s a safe bet that whoever the generals had spent the better part of forty eight hours grilling has more than enough experience to hop straight into a starfighter. And with heavy losses in recent months, pilots are something the Rebellion is desperately short on. 

So she isn’t shocked when you start listing every planetside transport, every planet hopper, cargo freighter, gunship, and starfighter you’ve ever worked on or flown. The list is extensive, impressive honestly. It dwarfs the experience of many of her colleagues, and Shara can’t help the thrum of excitement in her veins. Not only are you an experienced pilot, but you’re a mechanic - a scrapper, the rebels need more scrappers. Too many politicians, too many people who are far too used to having every resource in the galaxy at their disposal. It’s a glimmer of hope, she realises, in a night becoming all too dark for anyone’s liking.

“So, you can fly anything?” Shara asks, no longer hiding the wide grin on her face.

“Anything.”

You’ll fit right in, she decides - there and then.

And you do, you slot in like you’ve lived your whole life orbiting Yavin.

They drill you like there’s no tomorrow, you’ve got the deep muscle aches to prove it but it’s thrilling. Your back hurts and it’s everything you ever wanted it to be. Where the Corellian spy ring was all sneaking and secrets, the Rebel base on Yavin IV is a full scale production. Every daylight hour is spent running the same manoeuvres in the main four fighters - before you know it, you could fly any one of them with your eyes closed. Despite the pain and the exhaustion and the repetitive nature of the training, you love it. But you’ve got your eyes on the prize.

A coveted position in one of the primary starfighter squadrons has conveniently opened up, its previous placeholder reassigned, and you’re not the only one who’s sure that the fourth bunk in Green Squadron’s barracks has your name on it.

“I know I don’t see you coming for my track time.” Shara Bey’s voice is loud and clear over the buzz of the hangar, and you can’t keep the smile off your face despite the ache deep in your bones.

“Maybe I am, are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Shara launches herself at you the moment you set your datapad down, a boisterous laugh echoing off the ships. You’re steadily climbing the ranks in training, the years of experience already under your belt make you more confident in the cockpit than the other new recruits and you’re not afraid to pull a stunt or two. A flawless dead drop recovery had earned more than a few nods of approval from some of the qualified pilots. Although the Commander overseeing the recruit training made it clear that it was definitely what landed you with patrol maintenance duty on top of your usual drills in the first place.

“I talked to Draven.” She says, and your stomach flips. You’re leaps and bounds ahead of the other recruits, for sure, but nobody seems to want to sign off on your training. There’s always something about required hours or simulation times or more drills. You’re starting to get the feeling that, while you’ve got enough support from your would-be colleagues, no one in command wants you in the air at all.

“I told you I would!”

“I know, I know. But look, if I ask it’s more like an endorsement.”

“Shara-” You’re talking over one another, but not missing a single word. It’s a talent that leaves the commanding officers astounded more often than not.

“He said he’d think about it, which in command language means no-” 

“Tell me there’s a but.”

“But,” She grins widely, “He told me if you get this next info grab done, he’ll put in a good word with my commanders. And my commanders know I’m not going in the air unless you’re at my nine o’clock.”

Shara’s been far more welcoming than just about everyone since the moment she’d rocked up to your interrogation room and asked about your experience. And, over the moon to find you wandering around the halls and out of the binders, she’d spent the whole of your first night curled up in your bunk in the recruit barracks - recounting every little bit of drama she could think of. By the morning, you know who was dating who, who wasn’t happy about it, which crews were rivals, and which held the fastest course runs. Hers, obviously . 

You weren’t as forthcoming with your own journey, only mentioning that you’d run with some rebels for a while on your home planet, made a few detours along the way - she didn’t seem too surprised, and you wondered how much of that she knew already. Ran’s voice, still, in the back of your mind reminding you that everybody has an agenda . But her eyes were so open, so kind, you’ve yet to see that slip. Shara Bey might be the first genuinely good person you’ve ever met.

“And Kes’s crew is due to swing by tomorrow, in case you’ve changed your mind.” She winks, although she already knows you well enough to know you won’t take her up on the offer.

It had come up that first night, somewhere along the way, when she’d started lamenting about the pitiful state of the dating pool. Not something she had to worry about anymore, thank God, but a nightmare nowadays if you were after anyone who didn’t have history with someone in their own crew. She was happy to get her boyfriend to set you up with one of his friends - Pathfinders, never on base long enough to establish a history with anyone, fine enough to pass the time, and strong enough to manhandle you a little. If that’s what you’re into. 

You’d still been a little wary of sharing too many details about your history, something about how you weren’t interested muttered in the dark over the quiet breathing of the other new recruits. You could only tell her that you didn’t expect to see him again. He’d gone home, you didn’t even know where home was. She’d understood, with an arm around your shoulders and an attentive ear if you ever wanted to share more, although she made it clear that the offer of a muscular pair of emotionally unattached Pathfinder arms was always open.

It’s close to a year since you got scooped up by their spies for asking about the Rebellion, but Shara’s never failed to make it seem like much longer. Like you’ve been best friends, sharing lunches and secrets on the landing pad in the shade of her A-Wing for your whole lives. Even now, she’s looking at you like she knows you - backwards, forwards, sideways, inside out. Truth be told, she kind of does. It’s a closeness you’re sure you’ve never had with anyone, and you know you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Someone came here last week having never left his planet before and they put him on the training roster. You’ve logged more flight time than any recruit I’ve ever seen and we didn’t even have to teach you in the first place. I know you’re Draven’s golden child, but he can’t keep you on the ground forever, kid.”

“You can’t call me ‘kid’, I’m older than you.” You laugh, shoving her shoulder with your own.

“You’re ruining the moment.” She winks, pressing a kiss to your temple before she waves at a commander calling her name and makes her way to her ship.

The datapad beeps a reminder from its resting place on your tool trolley, you need to pack for your intel grab. It shouldn’t be a long trip, Draven had assured you, a simple in and out: information in exchange for protection and transport to the base. Protection and transport optional. He makes the hard decisions, you’ve learned during your time running the smaller missions for intelligence. The more important runs get given to rebels like Cassian Andor and the group of mercs you’d seen filing into the command room a few days ago. It was an odd combination, seeing people like that somewhere like this, and you know you shouldn’t have stared but you couldn’t help yourself. Weapons strapped to every empty space on each body, armour and clothes on a number of species from all across the galaxy. One of them had looked jarringly like you, although you hadn’t really gotten a good look at their face before they’d disappeared.

Just this mission, and you’d be in the air next week. Hopefully. It’s enough to get your feet moving towards the barracks to pack.

You only need the basics, a change of clothes and some medkit refills. Just in case. Except there’s still an empty space when you zip it shut, sitting heavy between your neatly folded shirts and the top of the bag, and you keep looking at your blanket. It gets cold in hyperspace, a voice in the back of your mind pipes up, and you decide that’s good enough reason as any to fold it in alongside your supplies. It smells solidly of the clean soap of your bedsheets, his scent - Din’s scent, a mix of metal and warmth - had faded before you even plucked up the courage to go looking for the Rebellion, all those months ago. You still hold it to your nose for a moment, just to check, before it too gets folded and laid in the top of your pack.

Now you’re ready.

Din isn’t overly fond of Nevarro. It’s not an unbearable heat, the dry plains are to thank for that, but he’s not a fan of days where the wind picks up and carries the sulphur of the lava fields under the lip of his helmet. The covert welcomed him back, more or less with open arms - though he’s not sure if their ever-dwindling numbers might have had anything to do with the warm reception. He hadn’t let them go without a cut of his pay for every job he’d done for Ran, always sending something back to the foundlings, so at least he hadn’t totally abandoned them. The Armourer decided he should be their beroya , their bounty hunter, and within days he found himself tracking a quarry in a system he’d never heard of. It was easy, really, to take the skills he’d garnered all his life and apply them to this. Paz had laughed with the familiarity of an old friend and told him that if a skinny thing like Din was their beroya , they were all fucked. So at least no one was openly angry that he’d left them.

The guild rep slides a puck across the table, metal scraping against the stone, and the blue hologram flickers. The human man staring back at him is unassuming, but the notes suggest otherwise. A former senator’s assistant, with strong connections to both the Empire and the Rebellion. Din nods, flicking the puck off and tucking it into his pocket without another word.

His loyalty is to the covert, to the Mandalorians. It always has been and it always will be. This is the way. But one mention of the Rebellion has his mind surging back to thoughts of you. Everything in his life seems to. Every time he sets foot on the Crest all he can see is you, bent double with your head in an access panel and a greasy rag tucked into the back of your pants. He’d see the sun and remember how you always used to turn your face to it, just for a moment, whenever the team ran jobs planetside. You’d never told him where you came from, but Ran had let bits and pieces slip over the years. In the looming shadow of the Razor Crest, Din wonders if you ever made it off the station. If you decided to drop everything and find the rebellion, the way you said you would when you were half asleep on his chest, your mind fucked out and hazy. He hopes you did.

The tracking fob brings him to a semi populated planet, somewhere near the border of the Unknown Regions. Vast swathes of land and water are completely uncolonised, left to nature, only a few cities dotted here and there over the whole planet. The bounty is evidently in possession of some brains, having chosen a mid-sized city to get lost in, and Din is almost disappointed that he knows it won’t take long. Wishes he’d picked a different puck, a little further away. Just to keep his mind occupied and out of more dangerous territories.

He stays vigilant, but pays no mind to the beeping of the fob on his belt. He can steal a moment, he thinks, to take in the area. To live the life of some extravagant explorer in his mind while he does a little recon, the life he might have led before it was cruelly snatched away in seconds on Aq Vetina. The last thing he expects to see when he walks into that crumbling little cantina is you.

Din spins on his heel and is out of the door almost as soon as he enters, slipping down the alley to the side of the building to catch his breath. He’s fairly sure you don’t notice - but his mind is reeling, echoes of the vows he swore as a child and the Armourer’s words swirl in his ears.

His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. 

But he only sees you. The way you always had time for him back on the station, how you told the others where they could shove it but always gave him a smile. You went above and beyond to help him without complaint when he asked, only ever got snippy with him when someone else had pissed you off first. He still remembers the way you felt in his hands, how you sounded, how you tasted. He still thinks about it on quiet nights, more often than he should. This is not the place to remember, there’ll be time for that later, although his body needs another minute to be completely convinced.

All he feels is guilt, once the blood comes back up to his brain. Guilt over the covert, over his vows and his creed and his people. But what’s more convincing is the guilt he has over you. Over how he just walked away, left you sleeping, and took the ship you’d spent months working on. Even if you were the one who told him to take it. You’re beautiful, still. Of course you are, you always have been to him. 

You notice when he walks in this time.

The sunlight streaming in from a window catches on the glass of his visor and your heart jumps into your throat. You don’t know if he’s spotted you yet, as he takes a seat at a table by the door angled away from you. Logically, you’d say it could be any Mandalorian. But you spent countless hours studying the way he moves, you had to know his gait to know if walking around a corner would get you killed or not. It almost had on more than one occasion. You could recognise his footsteps anywhere.

The untrained eye would think him relaxed, as relaxed as a man in head to toe armour can be, but you know better. There’s a tension in his shoulders, the same he used to get when Xi’an made another move on him with that grating giggle or Qin handled a blaster too roughly. His hand sits on his thigh, fingers splayed, ready to find the smooth contours of his blaster at any moment. Ever the soldier, never quite at ease. Apart from the last time you thought you’d ever see him, it seemed.

He leaves before you’re even done with your drink, sitting there for barely five minutes when he throws a couple of credits on the table for a drink he didn’t buy and stalks out. You sigh and down the rest of your drink, hoping it’ll quell the nausea rising in your stomach. It doesn’t, but you follow him out all the same.

You’re sure you were right behind him, weaving through the slowly emptying streets as the sun sets and the chill of the night begins to settle in, but now he’s nowhere to be found. Until you feel a set of eyes land heavily on your shoulders. You turn, slowly, and catch a glimpse of where he ducked into a narrow alley. The city’s full of them, but you’re certain he hadn’t been there when you passed it.

A long moment passes when you’re swallowed by the shadow of the buildings towering either side of you, a moment where he just watches you. You can’t deny you’re watching him too, carefully surveying his armour for new nicks and scrapes. There’s more than you’d like to admit to caring about.

“What are you doing here?” He breaks the silence, the tension, first. You shrug. 

“Working, what are you doing here?”

Din holds a small round disk in his palm, arm stretching out towards you as the holo flickers to life and you’re faced with your contact for the intel drop.

“Working.”

Fuck.

And that’s when a really, really bad idea starts to take shape.

i don't have access to my old taglist forms anymore so feel free to message or drop me an ask if you want to be tagged in future :)

#summary is i love shara bey and i want to be her best friend end of chapter #lacuna #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars fic #the mandalorian fic #liz does words

[dreaming-marchling]

fic writer meme

Thank you @smilebackwards for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 33

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 1,855,326 per my stats page - it's kind of wild!

3. What fandoms do you write for? My current two mains are Shadowhunters and Fast and Furious. I have in the past posted stories for Daredevil, Merlin, Harry Potter, Torchwood, The Defenders, Sherlock, Four Brothers and Suits. I have other fandoms I've started fics in but not finished/posted

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Day Forty Seven [7055] Set Free [4285] Marked in Trust [4132] Listen [3934] Four Centuries and Also Nineteen Years [3876]

5. Do you respond to comments? I respond to all comments while the story is in progress and then for probably a couple of months after it ends before I stop. Unless someone asks a specific question, then I always respond. I wish I could do all of them ever but life makes it hard.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I almost answered none of them before I remembered Addicted, which is about Brian and Dom hooking up during the first movie which I mostly wrote to prove to myself I could do smut. I'm pretty sure it ends with Brian realizing Mia (who he's supposed to be maybe getting together with as per the movie) heard them do that and Dom knew she would and from there Brian understanding that they're imploding even without him and the FBI.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Literally all the others, lol. I'm a happy ending girlie.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yes, in the Shadowhunters fandom if I write Jace as a good parabatai. Occasionally for if I write Isabelle as a good sister or Clary as not a total piece of shit. Also sometimes if I write Alec in a way that suggests maybe Magnus isn't the greatest in the world who has suffered more than Alec ever will.

9. Do you write smut? Yes but I generally prefer the fade to black approach

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written? I've never written a crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of I don't think. I don't even know if I would want to know, like that would consume me in the worst way

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, but not as Marchling. All of the comments were telling me that the translator was changing things and it was a bad translation and the person doing it was getting really weird. It was just like a nightmare kind of so now I request no one translate my fics. I'm sure someone would do it better and I'm just being all oversensitive because I got burned once but I'd rather just not go down that road again.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, but also not as Marchling.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? I honestly don't think I have one, it really depends on my mood.

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Oh absolutely. I have a couple of Shadowhunters stories that I doubt will ever be finished because they just don't want to be written I think. I love the ideas but the ideas don't love me

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I write dialogue well. I try to make sure that I include some sort of realistic recovery even if the story is shorter. I like to experiment with formatting to help tell the story and I think it's generally effective

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I can't write drabbles. I am not good at action scenes. I don't do enough description.

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics? I've been corrected in the comments more than once, lol. I like to do the dialogue in another language but write the English in italics so even if I'm wrong everyone still knows what it was meant to be.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I was like 11 or 12 and I posted my first two stories at the same time. One for a fandom I won't name because they're still out there and it's small enough you could find them and I'd rather die. The other for Angel the TV series. I got more comments on the other fandom one and so I was embarrassed that the Angel one got way less and I deleted it lmao. Did I mention I was in middle school?

20. Favorite fic you have written? I am so proud of so many of my stories but I think the Marked in Trust series is always going to be just the tiniest bit extra special in my heart.

tagging literally anyone who wants to play

#My Writing

[cowgurrrl]

this isn't a request or anything but I just wanted to say that: no matter how delusional I sound, rockstar!joel and actress!reader are real to me! 😭😭 listen, they're so SO entertaining and i just love them lots so THANK YOU for giving us content of them!! 💜💜 (also rockstar!joel is SOOOO attractive, both him and reader. power couple fr)

(i did have one quick question lol. ik it was mentioned somewhere before but what is the age difference between joel and reader, how old were they both when they met? ANDDDDD.....have they garnered any criticism from that despite being adults? lol)

THEY ARE REAL TO ME TOO SO THIS MAKES MY HEART SO HAPPY 🥹🥹🥹 this was really just such a silly idea at the beginning but it’s very quickly become one of my faves so thank you for loving it as much as I do and TELLING me how much you love it!! They’re truly such a comfort to write and to see people find that same comfort in them is such a privilege I just ugh 😭😭

But to answer your question about the age gap, there is a blink and you miss it discussion of it in I’m Still Standing where Carolina asks how old reader was when she met Joel and she says (and I made this vague for readers to input their own birthdays) “I was… Gosh, I think I was twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Somewhere around there. We met when Ryan and I were filming Hyde… Joel was either thirty-nine or forty when we met. Or, maybe he was forty because we met in the fall, and his birthday is in September.”

I kinda played around with the time frame and I don’t really have a set year in which this all takes place so it’s not a perfect timeline to present day/canon age but it’s fiction for a reason lol!! The timeline in my head is they meet when she’s like ~28/29 and he’s ~39/40 and they’re together for about nineish months (bringing us to spring/summer of the next year when reader would be ~28/29/30 (depending on your birthday) and Joel would be ~39/40) when she goes to Ireland for fifteen months so that would make it like late summer/early fall of the second year when they get back together (r: ~30/31, j: ~41-42) They’re together for like two more years (r: ~32/33, j: ~43/44) before getting engaged and have a year long engagement before getting married (r: ~33/34,j: ~44/45) and then have their first child Sammy two years later on May 15th (either right before or right after Ellie’s birthday and two months before Sarah’s) making reader ~35/36 and Joel ~46/47 when Ellie and Sarah are 20 and 24, respectively. By the time their family is complete with the arrival of the twins four years later reader is ~39/40, Joel is ~50/51, Ellie is ~24, and Sarah is ~28 and Sarah’s first child, Isaac, is ~2!

That’s a lot of math and numbers I just threw at you but the general idea is that they’re 11-12 years apart. I see them maybe getting some criticism from fans but I don’t think it’d be anything as intense as these other celebrity couples with 20-40 year age gaps between them and their partners!! I hope that answered your question and gave you a general timeline of the relationship even though I don’t think that’s what you asked for lol!!

#enjoy the lore anyways #I’m constantly thinking about them #did they meet in 2008?? #did they meet in 2016?? #did they meet in 2023?? #who knows #not me #timeline reveal #I’m so tempted to do a family tree too #oftm #one for the money two for the show #oftm family

[littlelasagne]

Hello beautiful human!! BMO is my favorite fic ever! Everything about the story is just perfect. Could you please share a little snippet of the next chapter? <3

Hi friend!

I'm so happy you've enjoyed the fic so far :) I'll be honest, I've been so busy at my new job and moving and everything, that I've barely had time this past month to work on BMO. The next chapter is nearly ready to go though, it's a heavy one about family so I keep umming and ahhing over it.

Thanks so much for the ask and continued interest! I feel a bit out of the loop with the fandom these days so it's nice to know you're there! Here's a chunk from the beginning of chap 31.

Squeezing a healthy dollop of suncream onto her hand, Hange began to smother it over her face.

“I wish you were here,” she said. “Everyone’s really sad, but we’re all happy to be together at the same time. It’s bittersweet in a way that Nani brought us all together in her death. Eurgh, it’s so hot though, I’m sweating all the time. I stink. You’d hate me right now. Oh yeah, I’d been in the house ten minutes and two aunties asked about my marriage prospects. I say aunties, I don’t even know who they are. Mum’s second-cousin, twice removed, three times married, carried over. Then, oh god, Mum explained to me that she told them about Zeke ages ago but she didn’t bother letting them know we split up so... that was fun explaining why we weren’t married yet. I didn’t really explain. I said I was putting my career first. Which is not exactly a lie either. I hate these stupid family games.”

Levi always considered it a blessing to not have nosy family poking their way into his life. If he had to pick between Erwin’s overprotective mother or Hange’s overcritical one, he would choose neither. But actually, as he listened to the hearty bustle beyond the door, he was struck by an odd longing. The thought of cousins to gossip with and meddling aunties to avoid seemed fun. At least they cared, right? He wondered if Uncle Kenny wanted to know his state of affairs. Judging by the constant barrage of emails from Cave, he did.

“Don’t forget your neck,” Levi said. Hange squeezed out more suncream, lifted her chin and rubbed the thick cream all over her willowy neck.

“It’s awkward, I haven’t really mentioned you yet because, y’know... it’s like I said, they’ll start asking all these questions and I’m not bothered about answering any of them yet. You understand, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Maybe next time I’m here it’ll be different… Anyway, Levi... I really miss you.”

She’d been gone for just over forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours since she had grieved all over him. Forty-eight hours since she was here in his bed, her leg wrapped around his and her lips all over his neck. He couldn’t wait to do that again. He imagined she was there with him now. Levi rolled over to face the window and see the night sky.

“It’s only been two days,” he said. Nineteen days to go.

“So? I’m allowed to miss you even if it’s only been ten seconds!” she pouted. “But thank you. For making me come here. As annoying as everyone is, we’re all connected to Nani and everyone’s set aside their feelings. We’re family after all.”

Family.

“That’s great, Hange.”

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can, I promise.”

“It’s ok, Hange.”

She puckered her lips and brought them to phone camera. Levi’s screen turned black for a moment. She giggled. “Wish I could kiss you in real life.”

He wished it too. “Go. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t cry too much.”

“Bye, Levi, sleep well. I’ll text you as soon as I can. I miss you.”

I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Bye, Four Eyes.” He hung up and flopped over in his bed, his eyes on the stars, feeling lonesome, languid, and just a little lacklustre.

#I'm not able to work on this daily anymore #which saddens me immensly #and i just chip away at it in tiny bits #SIGH #I really hate leaving big gaps in updates but I'm at max capacity so doing what I can #and also working on paint and progress chap 2 as well #you gotta go with what your heart wants to write sometimes #bmo #WIP #levihan #levihan fanfiction

[elisysd]

41. How long can we be a sad song ‘til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: You’re losing me - Taylor Swift

When she had given Ethan forty-eight hours, she didn’t think he would take it so seriously. He had come to her room as soon as the sun had risen, waking her up. She had opened the door to a neatly shaved and casually dressed Ethan, a basket in his hand and a smile on his face. He had entered her room as if he had owned the place and taken the place on the couch while she had stared at him in a slight disbelief.

“It’s six in the morning.”

“I know but you gave me forty-eight hours and I know you’ll be busy so I want to maximize our time spent together. And it starts now. So get dressed, I’m taking you out.”

“Out where?”

“I don’t know, somewhere. We will find a place to sit and eat, it will be fun.” he shrugged.

“I have to get back at ten…”

“You’ll be. Trust me.”

She had sighed but finally agreed. That’s how they ended up in the middle of the vines, at seven in the morning, trying to enjoy the warmth of the sun on their faces. Ethan had set a blanket on the ground and had been extra careful with her, making sure she was at ease and helping her settle. It was so unexpected from him that she was slightly uncomfortable.

“You’re acting like a gentleman…” she said.

“I’m trying. For you. I want you to see that I mean it when I say that I want to be the best for you.”

“I know you mean it. I know you do your best but…”

“No big and deep talks. Today and tomorrow we are just Ethan and Julia. There is only us. We are not Ethan, Julia and their issues.”

It was so tempting and seemed so nice that she didn’t have the heart to tell him that they needed to talk about them at some point. And rather sooner than later. But to her surprise, it was so easy to forget everything that was wrong between them. He was so carefree, so fun around her, making her laugh and making her feel good about herself.

“You still wear the pendant.” he noticed, his eyes glued on her neck.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know… I assumed that you would get rid of it.”

“That’s a stupid thing to assume.”

With a hesitant hand he brushed the metal and noticed her breathing picking up. He looked in her blue-green eyes to find answers to his unspoken questions but only encountered the same doubts as he had in his. He slowly leaned in to stop a few millimeters to her lips and his heart ached when she turned her head away.

“Joolsie…”

“We can’t do that… I’m sorry Ethan, it’s just that I can’t kiss you. Not like that, not before we talked things through…”

“I want things to go back to how they were… when it was easy. I don’t want the deep talk, I don’t want your tears Julia, I just want you happy….”

“But you can’t make me happy if we don’t talk.”

“Why do you make it so complicated?”

“I’m not. That’s what you don’t understand.”

She put some distance between them and got up, looking at the time.

“I have to go, I have one last fitting with my mom and the girls.”

“When will you be available?” he asked.

“Around four… I have a little time and then we have dinner. I arranged everything so you can sit with Kyle and Romy and don’t worry, I put Martin at the exact opposite of where you are so you don’t have to make eye contact or talk to each other.”

“I thought I would sit next to you?”

“Ethan…”

“No. Never mind. I’m in the dog house. Copy. Maybe I can still woo you back so I’ll stand by your side next time.”

It made her sigh and it was in silence that they made their way back to the hotel. She was a little relieved to see Romy arriving with Kyle, at least Ethan wouldn’t be alone. She was feeling guilty at the idea to leave him alone but she had things to do that she couldn’t postpone. She gave a little hug to her best friend, nodded in the direction of Kyle and left.

Ethan looked at her back, gulping and barely felt Kyle’s hand on him. It’s only when he tugged at his shirt that he finally turned around.

“How are you doing?”

“I feel numb, if I’m being honest. I think… I’m losing her Kyle.”

“Of course you do, have you seen the stunt you pulled?” intervened Romy, a little angry.

“Romy…”

“No Kyle. He might be your best friend and you might love him like a brother but he fucked up. Big, big time and honestly, I think you deserve to feel like that. You let her down countless times when you know how fragile she is. And I don’t care that you might love her, if you even know what it means, I would be her, I would have dumped your sorry ass the minute you pulled that stunt in Canada. You know how much Ferrari means to her, how much she loves the team and her dad, this team is almost like a family legacy to her and yet you decided to be selfish and to let your unhealthy jealousy do the talking. That’s pathetic and it doesn’t make you anything else than a coward.”

“Enough! Romy, it’s enough. He knows all of that, you don’t need to put him down like that. He feels bad enough.” said Kyle, coming between them.

“No, let her. She is right. I know that I fucked up, I know that maybe I’m losing her if it is not already the case but you won’t stop me from trying to save what can be saved because I care, Romy! A lot! A whole fucking lot and I can’t bare the thought of losing her without having the feeling that I gave my all to her. Ultimately it will be her choice and whatever it is I’ll try to respect it but I love her. That you won’t take it away from me.

Romy looked at Kyle trying to have him by her side but a sign of his head told her that she wouldn’t win the fight. She huffed and took her suitcase, leaving both boys on the side.

“I don’t want to create drama between you and Romy.”

“You won’t. I’ll take care of her, don’t worry. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m not sure of anything, anymore.”

“Come with me, we’ll talk.” he gestured to Ethan to follow him to a bench near the parking lot.

They sat down and Kyle stared at Ethan.

“I’m worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m fine. I… I have a therapist now. It has only been one session but I think it will help me.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Of course not. I think it’s about damn time.”

“Don’t tell anyone. Not even to Romy.”

“It’s not my business, Ethan. If someone has to say it, it has to be you. What are you planning to do about Julia?” Kyle asked.

“She gave me today and tomorrow to show her that I can make her happy and I intend to do that. And when she sees that, I’ll tell her that I love her. And we will be happy.”

Kyle didn’t have the will to tell him that love wouldn’t solve everything and that he feared that Julia’s and Ethan’s relationship might have been broken beyond repair this time.

“I’ll always be there for you, okay. You’ll have me in your corner, no matter what and if something happens, know that you can talk to me.”

“I know. No need to be so depressing, you’re talking as if I was about to die. It will be fine, don’t worry!” Ethan said in a laugh.

“But if it isn’t, I don’t want you to do anything stupid. You come to me first if you feel you’re about to mess up. It’s Julia’s parents wedding, if you fuck up she won’t forgive you.”

Ethan finally left Kyle to prepare everything for the night. He had planned to take the car for a little road trip and to find a quiet spot where they could have watched the stars. And he would have kissed her, reminding her that they belonged together, he wouldn’t have told her that he loved her yet but he would have showed her, she would’ve felt it.

Like she had told him, she was ready at four and he was already waiting for her. He saw her laughing with her mom who stopped to nudge her daughter, showing her Ethan. Shyly, Julia came to him as he gave her a huge sunflower bouquet under the amused eye of Lyanna who soon was joined by her husband giving the side eye to the Maserati’s driver. He was about to say something when she clearly stepped on his toes, making him gasp.

“Little road trip?”

“And what about dinner?”

“I thought you could skip it.”

“I wish, to be honest. My parents are driving me crazy.” she whispered.

“Then, let me be your sweet escape.”

She involuntarily rolled her eyes in front of the very cheesy line but followed him without hesitation.

As he had planned they drove without a destination in mind, Ethan’s hand finding her thigh and letting it rest there as she wasn’t saying anything. It was silent, but it wasn’t awkward. Julia let herself sink deeper in her seat as she linked her fingers to his. They finally arrived at the top of a hill, where no one would bother them and Ethan put down the blanket so they could lay there. Still her hand in his, he helped her sat down, her back facing him as he buried his head in her neck. He was surprised to not see her react and pull away. Maybe, after all, he hadn’t lost her entirely. He peppered her neck with kisses until he felt her move to give him more space. It required all his self control to not take her right here and there. Instead he made her face him and kissed her nose, making her giggle.

“You’re awfully sweet, tonight.”

“You let me. I will enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I really wish we could stay like this forever, you know. I’m not trying to play hard to get or I’m not trying to hurt you. I want nothing more than for this to work Ethan but I don’t know if we are ready for a relationship.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, feeling defensive.

“What I’m trying to say is maybe it would be better if…”

“No. Don’t finish this sentence. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Ethan…” she sighed.

“I’m serious. Listen. We have reasons to believe it will work out. First, we want to be together, right? So it means something. Then, you’re going to accept Christian’s offer and it will change everything. I’m sure it’s going to help us find our balance.”

“About that…”

“No, let me finish. So, new job, new life. You’ll be living in England and I thought that maybe we could live together. I'm barely using my flat in Monaco because it feels empty but when I came home and saw your stuff everywhere, suddenly it didn’t feel as empty and I was not dreading to come back anymore. I know you’ll be busy and I’ll be too but we can make it work. We can eat together at the factory when I’m there to work on the sim and we can have date nights just the two of us in our flat. We won’t leave each other's side and it’s great because I’ll be right by your side when you’ll get in your own head because of the pressure or because you’ll think you're not enough. And about the races, you’ll be near me and I know that’s what I need. You are going to be my biggest cheerleader and I promise you, every podium and wins I’ll find you in the crowd and they will be for you.”

“I really need to tell you something, it’s very important…” she tried to say but he was listening.

“And of course, I know how your family is important so I’ll make sure we get to travel as much as we can to see them. Especially Louis, you’ll see your dad on the tracks, so I guess it’s fine but Louis is everything to you and I don’t want you to lose what you have with him. And… Julia? Are you crying?”

“I’m sorry it’s just… you gave that a lot of thoughts and it seems so great when you present it like this.”

“It is. And soon, it will be real. I promise you Julia, I’m not letting us down, this time.”

He was so determined that Julia didn’t have the strength to tell him about her decision. Instead, she turned towards him and pressed her lips on his, barely giving him the time to react. It was a salty kiss. A kiss of hope and regret. A kiss to remember what was there and what was lost. What couldn’t be saved and what should have been. A reminder of what they could have been. Ethan’s hands grabbed her hips as he laid down on the blanket and let her remove his shirt as found the opening of her dress. In the wild, they abandoned themselves to each other, letting the birds be the only spectator of their love. And it’s with her heart aching more than ever that Julia let herself drowned in his eyes as he didn’t once looked away from her or closed his eyes, taking everything she had to offer to him and cherishing it.

They laid there, in each other’s embrace for a while, Ethan playing with her hair as she was resting her head on his chest, listening to his heart beating.

“I know it doesn’t solve anything but… I missed that. I missed you.” he said, kissing the side of her head.

“We should go back. Everyone will get worried and it’s late.” she said in a detached voice.

“Yeah, you’re right. Tomorrow is going to be fun, I thought we could explore the basement, where they keep the bottles? What do you think?”

“I’ll be very busy tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ll have time. I know I promised you forty-eight hours but it wasn’t a good idea. It really wasn’t.”

Ethan could see the wheels turning in her head full speed as she was shakily putting her clothes back on. Ethan did the same and as she was getting away he managed to grab her arms and make her turn around.

“You’re panicking. You are getting in your own head, Joolsie. Don’t. Don’t do that. I’m begging you, don’t do that.”

“We shouldn’t have and you know it. Not like that.”

“But it was good! The connection we have, you know it’s real, you know it’s true, you feel it, I do too.”

“I need to go back to the hotel. It’s really late.”

Ethan sighed, knowing really well that he couldn’t talk to her when she was like that. He brought back his things and put them in the back of the car before sitting behind the steering wheel and making their way back to the hotel in silence, much less comfortable than when they first stepped inside it.

When they finally arrived, Julia was quick to hop out of the car to head to the entrance, followed by Ethan that didn’t know what to say, knowing it would make everything worse. He could see her shoulders rapidly moving as if she was out of breath or was struggling and he just wanted to take her in his arms, whispering to her ear that everything would be okay, that he was there for her. He was losing her and no matter how hard he was trying to reach out he was only managing to make her pull away. He didn’t know what to do anymore, or more he knew but he didn’t know if he was strong enough or brave enough. But it might be his last and only chance to save their relationship. So when they were in front of her door and she finally looked at him he was ready to say it.

“Julia… I have to tell you something…”

“I do too.”

He was about to open his mouth when Charles' silhouette appeared in the corridor all smiley before it dropped seeing Ethan next to his daughter. He glared at him before turning his head to Julia, a large amount of papers under his arms.

“I was searching for you, I didn’t expect you to come back this late. But anyway, I have your new contract ready so if you want to have a look and if you want some clarification or if you want to negotiate some things, let me know. You don’t have to study it now or sign it straight away but on behalf of the whole team, I want to tell you "Welcome onboard, welcome to Ferrar!””

“To Ferrari?” Ethan repeated.

“She didn’t tell you? She refused Christian’s job offer.” said Charles and he couldn’t stop the cocky smile on his face.

Julia looked at her dad with an angry look before turning to Ethan who had his jaw clenched barely looking at her.

“Ethan… I swear I was about to tell you.”

“When? After making me pour my heart out to you, telling you exactly how I pictured our life in England when you would have accepted the job? After you let me make love to you ? Because that wasn’t a little fuck to me Julia, unlike you apparently. Don’t waste your breath, Joolsie. I don’t care. You do what you want.”

“Damn right she will do what she wants Ethan. She doesn’t owe you anything.”

“Dad! That’s between him and I! Ethan please, can we talk about it?”

He could see the tears running down her face and he could feel his as well. He let her take a step back and put both cold hands on his face, trying to make him look at her. She barely heard her dad talking to her, her only focus on Ethan.

“Elijah is leaving the team at the end of the year. That means we are going to build the car around Martin’s driving style and I will need you to work closely with him in the sim to gather all the info.”

She didn’t react but Ethan’s gaze crossed Charles and he was almost sure that the info had only one purpose: hurting him more than he already was.

“I’m begging you Ethan, just let me explain… talk to me, just… don’t push me away without letting me explain. I wanted to tell you I swear. I tried to but you were so happy and..”

“And what? You decided to play me? Give me false hope? I shouldn’t be surprised, anyway. You are the queen of giving false hope to men. I’m leaving. I guess we can cancel whatever I had planned for tomorrow. I need to digest the info and I don’t want to say something that I will regret.”

He heard her barely breathing sorry in his back but decided to ignore it, leaving her in the middle of the corridor, completely shattered.

Deep down he knew he couldn’t and shouldn’t be mad. He had promised her that no matter what she would choose, he would be there to support her. But, he had never imagined how far he had pictured their lives and how excited he had felt. Only for that to be crushed. How could he have felt so happy one moment and so sad the next? On his way to his room he found Martin, peacefully sitting on the edge of a balcony, trying to enjoy the fresh Italian air. Ethan had the thought of how easy it would be to push him from the balcony but quickly retracted himself. Feeling his gaze on him Martin turned around and gave a forced smile to Ethan before noticing how pale he was.

“I think you won. Congrats. You might be on your way to get the girl in the end.” Ethan said, a lump in his throat.

“She told you, then…” Martin replied, unsure of what Ethan was implying.

“No. Her dad did.”

“Ethan, can we talk?”

“I don’t have anything to tell you. I don’t have the energy. I just want this fucking wedding to be over. It’s supposed to be a celebration and for now, I only have a heart that keeps breaking everyday a little more, so no. I don’t want to talk. Especially not to you.”

“I just want to tell you I’m sorry. About everything. About the things I said and the things I did. That was not right, it has never been. I let my feelings for Julia blind me and you were on the receiving end. I just wish we could put all of this behind us. Because at the end of the day, you are my best competition. No matter what. And I wish we would have battled fair and square. I’ve never wanted to take it this far. I regret it.”

Ethan didn’t know what to say. Apologies were the last thing he had ever expected to receive from Martin.

“Maybe in another life? Or in a few years? Because right now I really can’t see us being anything else than mortal rivals.”

“And I like it that way. As long as you don’t try to kill me.”

“It can get arranged. As long as you don’t open your mouth.”

“That can get arranged.” he smiled and Ethan walked off.

It had been a weird interaction. Very weird. But maybe it also meant that nothing was forever broken beyond repairs. Despite everything he smiled. No, he wouldn’t back down without a fight, without telling her the one last thing he had to say. And Julia Leclerc was a girl who was worth fighting for.

Author's note: I promise you guys I'm not making them suffer for the sole pleasure of making them suffer (okay I enjoy it a little), it will be worthy at the end. But they have to go through a bunch of (not so fun) stuff before getting their happyly ever after. What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

#writing #fiction #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x oc #charles leclerc fanfic #max vertsappen #max verstappen fanfic

[borgiabarbie]

Wild DLS theorising incoming...

So... Since we discovered this in the update:

It seems extremely likely that in addition to Mephis and No. 44 (assuming they aren't one and the same) there's also a bright one after Laia.

Could No. 44 be a fallen angel looking to steal Laia's soul light in order to regain power among the bright ones? 🤔 It would definitely fit with the references to Mark Twain's No. 44, the Mysterious Stranger where No. 44 is the biblical Satan, a fallen angel. (Off topic: has anyone else seen that super creepy Mysterious Stranger claymation from The Adventures of Mark Twain? *shivers*)

Anyway, it might make sense if this villainous angel was the mysterious benefactor who gifted the six paintings to Brașov Museum, setting off the entire chain of events. There's plenty of references to the benefactor seeming initially angelic before revealing their true diabolic self.

Also Kudos to the Custodian for identifying Laia's angelic soul back in Season 2.

It would also make a lot of sense for Mephis and No. 44 to work together to steal Laia's soul light. In the Faust legend Mephistopheles is the devil's agent, harvesting souls on his behalf. Perhaps back in S2, when Gabi recalls seeing No. 44 with a black dog, that is the form in which Mephis appears to humans with whatever gift Gabi possesses. It also makes sense given that Vlad's brand from Mephis was a black dog.

It's interesting that Gabi describes number forty-four as having "a scary face" and being "really, really old". Meanwhile our mysterious benefactor is described as a "young man" and a foreigner. This suggests he might be able to change his appearance (if they are indeed one and the same) 🤔 an ability we know both dark and bright ones possess.

This would explain why Vlad hasn't recognised Mephis if he's masquerading as someone else (an ability possibly boosted by the energy artifact that he's stolen from Noe's grandfather).

In S4 E1 we get our first glimpse of the mysterious ambassador (presumably No. 44 or Mephis) outside of the opening prologue.

Later on in the chapter Lale and Mehmed encounter a sinister stranger who refers back to Mehmed's childhood accident and is fixated on Lale's beautiful soul.

Presumably they're the same person under those robes? Maybe their fashion sense just became less elegant over time. But it's also not impossible that one figure was No. 44 and the other was Mephis.

This still leaves the question: Who is the mysterious benefactor/No. 44?

A quick look at my list of suspects:

Hasan/Ezel: The name Hasan can mean benefactor in Arabic, but I really don't think he's our villain. He was killed by the dark powers (because of Huma's deal) which seems pretty inept if he was actually working for them. I do wonder if he's potentially another azure though, given his apparent reincarnation 🤔 We did find out in S4 E2 that Ezel has been travelling in Europe, so he could have potentially been in Romania during the events of S1, but he's still low on my suspects list.

Mehmed: He was the reason Huma made her deal, and we see him interact with the sinister stranger in S4 E1, so it's pretty safe to assume he's neither No. 44 nor Mephis. Plus if Mehmed *has* been trapped in a wall this entire time he definitely wasn't roaming around Romania making deals with Sandra's father and spooking Gabi during S1. It's clear that Mehmed's got his own darkness going on, but I suspect that was acquired after Lale's death.

Councillor Septentrion:

Septentrion is possibly too obvious a suspect? 🤔 But I definitely don't trust him. On the Noe route he was the only person who knew about Noe's romantic feelings for Laia, information I presume he passed on without Noe's knowledge (to someone else in the dark world) so that Noe could be blackmailed into accepting the Aditum position. He also took a suspiciously long time to get help when Aditum Procol was dying. And we know that he can make human bodies, they're just not as good as the ones Noe can create. Maybe someone is impersonating Septentrion, and the real one is locked in a cupboard somewhere.

Henry: He's a young man so he made the suspects list, but I think he's just kinda inept rather than suspicious. Poor guy just wants to be Leo 😔

Aquil: Okay, he's not exactly young, but he is sinister. I can definitely imagine him maybe betraying Laia and Leo at a later date, but I don't think he's Mephis/No. 44/the benefactor.

Ruthven: I'm discounting him on the grounds of being dead.

Ted: As above (at least on some playthroughs).

Asmodeus: Probably too busy being a terrible stage magician with a monumental ego to mastermind anything.

Jean: Yes, that art lawyer from S1. Admittedly he was Romanian so there's no reason the Custodian's granddaughter would describe him as a foreigner, but he still seemed somewhat suspicious. I wouldn't be surprised if he reappears before S4 is over.

That's it for my suspects list, but the brilliant @nesrinslittleworld has a great theory based on the latest update.

TLDR: I love DLS and can't wait to find out what S4 has in store.

#dracula a love story #romance club #Dracula a love story theories #long post #laia x noe

[rowanaelinn]

Wires - Prologue

Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I hope you will enjoy this new fic:) It’s set in a Formula One AU, and I know that it can be confusing so feel free to ask any questions if I write something you don’t understand! I’m doing my best to explain without info dumping, lol. Are we ready for romance and angst and smut?👀

Warnings: Language | Word Count: 3,100

The sun beamed through the private plane’s window, warming up Aelin’s naked thighs. She’d been nose deep into her books for the entire flight, knees bent and feet resting on her seat.

She was grateful for the new headphones she bought a month before, noise cancelling ones. It came in handy when Aedion’s and his team started talking strategy. Sometimes she enjoyed hearing them speak, it was distracting and even comical when no one agreed, but sometimes she needed her peace and quiet.

When they left Spain barely a hour ago, the air was warm and welcoming. She loved her country, loved its people and its landscape. The month of March officially opened the tourism season, tourists who couldn’t handle extreme heat enjoyed their stay in early spring.

But it wasn’t the only thing officially starting in March. When the sun started showing and warming the sand of Spain, it was when the annual Formula One championship started. With that, started eight to nine months of entire debauchery, happiness, anger and exhaustion.

She vaguely remembered traveling all over the world as a kid, her father talking strategy while she sat on his lap playing with her dolls. She slightly remembered the heavy, yellow protection her mother used to place over Aelin’s ears.

Her parent’s mansion was full of pictures of her father celebrating his wins with Aelin on his shoulders. She was his pride and joy, or at least it was what her mother told her.

Aelin looked up to find her uncle’s warm gaze on her. She smiled at him, sending a small wave of her hand his way. He winked and turned his gaze back on his son.

The first race of the season was four days away, but Aedion already looked ready for battle. He didn’t take well his loss last season, not when he’d been so close to winning.

Aedion Ashryver had been born for winning. He could barely walk the first time his father and hers took him into a kart, and since that day, half of his soul belonged to the track.

He trained his entire life to be where he was now. At twenty-seven, Aedion was in the prime of his career. Some drivers kept racing even in their forties, but it was rare. If it was on Aelin, Aedion would already be retired. She hated this world, the luxury and the falseness of it all. She despised the consequences this lifestyle had on her.

She had stayed away from it all for years, only attending one race per year: Aedion’s home race in Barcelona.

That was until now, until her goddamned cousin gave her an ultimatum. She wanted to be angry at him, and a big part of her was. But she was also aware that she brought it on herself. So, she brooded in silence and away from everyone else.

She gathered her pink hair in a high ponytail and used the empty seat next to her to lay her legs there, using her cousin’s Ferrari coat to cover her legs. Damn air conditioning, she started shivering the moment she closed the porthole, darkening her side of the plane.

Aedion threw a glance at her, and she arched a blonde eyebrow in question. He hadn’t really talked to her, either. He looked away, and she hid her disappointment.

She rested her head against the wall and fell into a restless sleep until they landed in Germany.

What was advantageous while traveling as one of the Ferrari’s driver’s special guests was the treatment she received. The private planes, she was used to it. It nearly was the only way she had used to travel for her entire life. No, what Aelin appreciated was how they made it their job to serve her as much as they did for Aedion.

Alright, maybe he was treated a little bit better. But still, Aelin didn’t refuse it when one man from his team took her luggage and placed it in the trunk of Aedion’s rental car.

His entire job was driving, so Aedion always refused to be driven anywhere. The only time she saw him on a passenger seat since he turned eighteen was when he taught her how to drive for long hours.

His father, as a former racer, was the same as his son. Which was why he also took a car of his own, and considering how luxurious their tastes ran—which Aelin threw in their face every time they criticized her for the same reason—their cars reflected on it.

Each of their car was two-seats only. Aelin tried to rush for Uncle Gavriel’s car, but Dorian, Aedion’s new teammate, beat her to it. She didn’t hide her groan, turning to face her cousin.

His face was annoyed and pointed to his red car, “Get in.”

She crossed her arms, “I am not a dog. You don’t order me around.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m not waiting, Aelin.”

“Maybe I’ll thumb a ride for the hotel.”

He snorted, opening the driver’s side door. “Sí, prima, remind me when you learned German?”

Well, he did mark a point. She had tried to learn German, Aelin praised herself with her ability to learn quite a lot of languages, but she was awful at it. It was the same with French, but brain just… didn’t register anything.

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off before climbing into the car. He closed the door behind himself and put on his seatbelt. “Don’t drive too fast,” she reminded him, her voice slightly more vulnerable.

“I never do when you’re around,” he answered, letting go of the tension ever so present in his voice since he found her. But it was gone one second after, “We’re going to the pitlane for now, I have a training session. Then Rolfe is taking the entire team to a restaurant.” William Rolfe was the head of Ferrari. Basically, Aedion had to kiss his feet every day to thank him for his spot on the team.

She shook her head even if he couldn’t see it, “I want go to the hotel.”

“No one will be there,” Aedion answered, turning left. “So, the answer is no. You’ll nap in the paddock if you’re that tired.”

“Fuck you, Aedion,” she spat. “I’m not a child.”

He didn’t answer to her jab, he only turned the music on and drove quietly to their destinations. She knew he had Uncle Gavriel on his side, and even her own mother. There was nothing to do, Aelin was to do what her cousin wished. Lysandra wasn’t even there; she would only join them in a few weeks. For the last three championship, she’d been able to work from wherever on the globe and follow her boyfriend into his expeditions. She would do the same this year, but she had important clients to meet before she could switch to online work.

“How’s your leg?”

“Fine,” was her only answer. The one she always gave when the question came up.

Aedion knew that, he sighed and his knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, but he said nothing.

Good, she wasn’t in the mood to talk. She placed her earphone in her ears and blasted her music into her ears, watching the landscapes.

She already missed Madrid and its warmth. She had to wear her coat when the plane landed, a perfectly warm coat given generously by Ferrari. She was a walking advertisement, not just for Ferrari but also for every brand who could afford it.

She looked ridiculous in bright red, especially with her large, orange pants. But she was a creature of luxury, warmth and comfort.

An hour after, Aedion’s car parked in front of the circuit. The building was huge, tall and long, built around the track. Ferrari’s logo was huge and bright on the wall, next to Mercedes’ and Red Bull’s.

“You coming?” Aedion asked, already out of the car.

It wasn’t like she truly had a choice, and they were in public anyway. The parking wasn’t full, but there were enough cars to indicate that a race was about to be performed in less than two days.

She was sure to give her cousin hell when they were in private, but now that she was twenty-two, Aelin was done with public tantrums. It brought unnecessary attention. She sighed and got out of the car, crossing her arms as she followed after Aedion.

Uncle Gavriel and Dorian had arrived ten minutes before them, probably because they were more inclined to break or brush the speed limit.

Aedion opened the red door for her, and she walked in, all her attention stolen by the different activities on going. The door on the opposite side was open, allowing them a view of the pitlane. There were stairs leading to more private rooms, one for each of the drivers and a couple of soundproof rooms for meeting and strategy.

Downstairs it was the garage, mechanics were already working either above or under the two red, racing cars. There were screens on the left side, with headsets and everything needed to maintain connection between the drivers and their strategists.

Aedion knew everyone’s name, not ignoring anyone as he saluted every single man or woman working. They all smiled warmly at him, as if it was a pleasure to work with him. He introduced her to everyone, and while she didn’t start conversations, she did wave at them and tried to remember as many names as she could.

She would spend the next months with these people, she could at least remember their name and offer them a smile. It wasn’t their fault if Aelin was locked out of her mansion in Madrid.

Aedion was the reason behind it, and even if she knew he was dragging her across the world for a good reason, she wished he would only hear her out.

Outside, on the border of the pitlane, Dorian and Uncle Gavriel were talking, the old man probably giving advices to Dorian for his first F1 season. Dorian was her age, and they’d seen each other a few times as they grew up. His father and hers had been teammates for a year or so, and then Dorian Senior changed teams.

It was the norm for the same surnames to appear on people’s televisions every twenty years or so. Racing was a very closed circle, one only men could attain, and one only privileged people were allowed to be a part of.

Driver’s sons almost always ended up being drivers themselves.

Dorian’s lips were parted around a cigarette, inhaling the toxic smoke.

Aelin rolled her eyes, “Are you even allowed to smoke?”

He shrugged and grin, his cigarette between two of his fingers as he exhaled. “Don’t girls love bad boys?”  

“To answer your question,” Uncle Gavriel and his ever-diplomatic voice took over. “It is not forbidden, though highly discouraged. Not that he listens.” His gaze slightly darkened as he looked at the youngest driver.

Uncle Gavriel wasn’t technically hired by the team, but as Aedion’s father and mentor, he acted as a coach to both drivers. He was included in every discussion for the team, and his advice was taken religiously. She supposed it was one of the advantages of winning five championships in his young days.

Gavriel retired early, at the young age of twenty-five. He could have been one of the greatest drivers of all time, he could have won ten more trophies. But the moment his wife told him she was pregnant, Gavriel backed up from the championship. Mid-season.

His family was his priority, and it also spread to his niece.

She shifted her weight on her left leg, flinching when she heard the loud sound of engine when a car drove by them less than five feet away from where they stood, one driver already training onto the track.

Dorian chuckled, “You’ll get used to the sounds.”  

Aelin was doubtful about it, but she didn’t have time to answer before a mechanic called Dorian’s name, he winked at his teammate and kissed her cheek. He ran to the mechanic standing over one of the cars.

“Where are your crutches?” Uncle Gavriel asked.

Her eyes turned murderous when she looked at him, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t need them.”

“Your leg obviously hurt,” he answered, looking down at her hidden legs. “You keep fidgeting and resting on your left one.”

“Why didn’t you tell us it hurt?” Aedion asked in a hurry. “I have your meds in my backpack, I’ll be right back in a minute.”

She couldn’t tell him off, one second later he was already gone. She rolled her eyes at him, he could be so… The reminder that she didn’t even have access to her own meds was sour in her mouth, but she’d already tried arguing. “I should have my meds on me.”

Uncle Gavriel sighed. They’d had this argument a lot these past few weeks. “He doesn’t trust you.”

“But do you?” If he did, then he could tell her resonate Aedion.

He sighed, “Where are your crutches, Aelin?”

His lack of answer was answer enough. Fuck him. Fuck everyone here. “Home,” she snapped. “I don’t need them.”

“You left them in Spain?” Gavriel asked, his eyes wide.

“Toma, coge eso, prima,” Here, take that, cousin. Aedion returned, handing her a single white pill. He didn’t even let her see the bottle. Just one fucking pill.

“Want to put that in my mouth and check I swallow?” She hissed.

“Don’t be fucking difficult,” he grilled through his teeth.

She rolled her eyes and snatched the pill, swallowing it dry. She opened her mouth and lifted her tongue before giving her cousin a snarky smile, “Happy, Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes. Throwing a look at the same car that drove past us one more time, a slight frown forming on his face. Maybe he was feeling guilty for not being on the track on time. Aedion was big on hard work, which was something no one could take away from him. He wasn’t where he stood because of his father and uncle. No, he was there because he was talented and loved it, it somehow made it scarier.

If he loved it, he was willing to take more risks.

“What about your crutches? Do you need ice or something?” He asked. Her worried cousin was back. In ten seconds, he’d be back into his snappy mood.

“I don’t need help to walk,” she snapped. “I can do it on my own, alright? The flight and car right probably just probably swelled my leg. That’s all.”

“Do you want help to—”

“No.” She breathed, closing her eyes for a second. She shouldn’t be mad when they were only trying to help. She couldn’t help it, though. She was an adult, not a child anymore. “I’ll just get upstairs and lay my leg a little.”

“That’s a good idea,” Gavriel nodded. “Aedion needs to train a little and talk to some sponsors today. Nothing worth standing for hours.”

“Thanks, dad.”

Her uncle chuckled, “She can watch your practice from your room, cub.”

Aedion rolled his eyes at the nickname his father used but the corner of his lips seemed to lift a little. “Dad’s right. Feel free to rest.”

Aelin nodded, watching as the car that had been doing laps all over the track parked in front of the Red Bull’s paddock which was the one right on the left of Ferrari’s.

Mechanics rushed to the side of the car. The driver took off his seatbelt, reaching on the side of the car to help him stand and get out of the car.

His suit was dark blue, with all the sponsors’ logos on the material. He took off his gloves before zipping down his suit, freeing his chest from the weight and protection of it and tying the selves around his waist to keep it hanging there. His shirt was long sleeved, too. How did these men not die of heat? The car in itself was a furnace, but with the suit plus the protective shirt and pants under…

She was sure she could make a fortune in deodorant for drivers. She had no wishes to be close to any of them after a race, but smell must be…

His hands were for his helmet, he undid it before taking it off and shook his head, his hair flying into the wind. His silver hair.

Something in Aelin’s stomach sank and she noticed the tattoo on his hand. She couldn’t see his arm, but she knew the black ink would run all over his arm. She could see the hint of it on his neck.

Her heart palpitated, her lips parting.

Rowan Whitethorn. One of the best drivers of their time. He came from France, had been raised there and taught how to race by his father, Julien Whitethorn. He was Aedion’s biggest rival, the one he’d lost last year’s championship to.

As if he could feel her burning gaze on him, his head whipped to her side of the paddock. His shoulder stiffened as he saw her, the already sharp lines of his face hardening.

She had known she would see him, but somehow it was harder than she expected. Two sides of her brain were at war, one wanted to run away from there, the other one lingered for a fight, to destroy what destroyed her.

Aedion turned his head, watching over where she was staring. In the corner of her vision, she could see him tense. Actually, tense would be a very naïve and nice way to describe Aedion and Rowan’s rivalry.

Hatred was more the word for it.

Aedion’s warm hand laid on her shoulder, but she didn’t look away. Neither did Rowan. A strategist, if he was to guess by the way he was dressed, was looking at his electronic tablet and talked to the driver. She didn’t know if he was listening, she wasn’t aware of anything but him.

Aedion’s arm wrapped around her shoulder and guided her back inside the paddock, breaking her eye contact with the silver-haired driver. “He is still trouble,” Aedion’s deep voice tore her out of her thoughts. “Stay away from him.”

“You think I need you to tell me that?”

“I’m worried for you,” he said, and he looked like he was. “I’m trying to protect you. I won’t let him get near you.”

She looked on her left, but there was nothing but a wall. “Let him try,” she said, tension in her voice. “He won’t regret it.”

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog​ // @becarefuloflove​ // @imnotsogoodatthis​ // @rowaelinismyotp​ // @a-court-of-milkandhoney​ // @feysand-loml​ // @elentiyawhitethorn​ // @live-the-fangirl-life​ // @story-scribbler​ // @loves-books​ // @fangirlprincess09​ // @theysayitscrazy​ // @danibutterr​ // @endlessdaydream​ // @thegreyj​ // @gracie-rosee​ // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod​ // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red​ // @backtobl4ck​ // @whoever-you-choose-to-love​ // @lemonade-coolattas​ // @mad-madeline-ace​ // @the-introverted-bibliophile​ // @leiawritesstories​ // @emilyoftheshadows​ // @anniesbookshelf​ // @rainbowcheetah512​ // @astra-ad-mare​ // @story-scribbler​ // @superspiritfestival​ // @wordsafterhours​ // @rowaelinrambling​ // @black-daisy-water​ // @fireheart-violet​ // @livsdriverslicense​ // @charlizeed​ // @ladykreads​ // @mariamuses​ // @autumnbabylon​

#wires #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius #throne of glass

[theuniversitychallengereview]

All The Quizzical Ladies

Been trying for the past ten minutes to come up with a lyric or pun-based title to let you all know that this is the first University Challenge Grand Final contested by two female captains (something like All the Quizzical Ladies, maybe, but I don't think that's very good). What I could do instead is tell you that here, as I have just done. That's probably easier than shoehorning in some hamfisted attempt at humour.

One of Tayana Sawh and Suraiya Haddad will become only the eighth female captain to lift the University Challenge trophy, and the first since Hannah Woods in 2016. This is the 53rd series of University Challenge, and there have been more winners called John (13) or David (10) than there have been winning female captains.

Sawh is joined by James Hall, Ali Izzatdust and Jacob Finlay. They have defeated four Oxbridge colleges along the way, and Manchester in the semi-final, saving their most impressive performance to date for this clash against the northern institution.

This is the thrid time UCL have made the final, but they were beaten on both previous occasions, by Corpus Christi, Ox in 2005 and Manchester in 2013. Hoping that it won't be third time lucky for their cross-capital rivals are Imperial who are looking for a record fifth Uni Challenge crown (this being a first London derby at this stage since Imperial won their maiden trophy against LSE in 1996).

Assisting Haddad on this front are Justin Lee, Adam Jones and Sourajit Debnath. They have knocked out three Oxbridge colleges, along with quarter-final wins over Sheffield and Manchester. They come into the final with a slight edge in terms of their scoring, but this kind of statistical forecasting has not served me well in the past.

The key buzzer-battle will be between Messers Lee and Izzatdust, who have lead the way in starters for their respective teams. But this too fails to tell the whole story, because I can remember key buzzes from all of the other members too.

So here we are, thirty-six episodes into a series which has had it all - two tiebreakers, a new host, a new studio. a new question screen and we need Jungle, I'm afraid - ready to face, for the last time, our first starter for ten.

Sign up for The University Challenge Review

Izzatdust kicks off the final with a question featuring the phrase interpretatio germanica, and UCL took a hat-trick of bonuses on the medieval Egyptian ruler Baybars. The perfect start.

A neg from Lee put Imperial below zero, but Hall couldn't capitalise with one of his trademark guesses, and a neg of his own allowed Debnath in with urea. A full set tied the game at twenty each.

At the third time of asking Hall gets on the board with Lubaina Himid, but UCL's lead doesn't last long, with Lee cruising through the first picture round on The Canterbury Tales. A second on the trot for Lee, an early buzz of Armenia, put Imperial in front for the first time.

Elia Kazan from Debnath extended their lead, and he backs up his starter with a perfect set of bonuses on video games, requesting a nomination from his captain each time with a gentle flick of his finger. Firewatch, Tunic, Disco Elysium. Imperial are forty clear.

This becomes fifty, and then one hundred, as Debnath, Lee and Jones take advantage of a few UCL slip ups. Lee knows the music starter too, Faure, and Imperial are starting to run away with this. It is somehow like they've been saving their best performance for the final, and you can only feel sorry for UCL, who are helpless as buzz after buzz goes against them.

The execution on the bonuses is also solid, meaning that the gap has been stretched beyond closing before UCL are able to get in a buzz of their own. Brutal, relentless quizzing from Imperial. Their dominance forces UCL into risky buzzes, which unfortunately don't pay off, dropping them further back. It is definitely the right tactic to go early with a guess when the deficit is pushing one fifty, but it doesn't work on the night.

When Lee buzzes with Berengaria after three or four words of the starter, it signals the spiritual end of the game. The gap is too big, and Imperial are playing too well to drop this now.

When UCL finally get started again they are two hundred points behind, but they are not disheartened and fight on till the very end, with Hall, Izzatdust and Jones taking great pleasure in a few excellent buzzes.

What at one point looked like it could have been a historic drubbing turned into a very respectable slugfest, in which one team merely outclassed rather than decimated the other. Imperial 285 - 120 UCL

A third title in five years cements Imperial's status as a University Challenge dynasty. It is also their fifth title overall, a new record which sees them stand alone above Manchester and Magdalen.

For UCL a third Grand Final defeat, which is heartbreaking, but they had no answer for Lee and his eight starters tonight and can take immense credit for the little flourish they had to close the match.

Tom Stoppard presented the trophy to Imperial on a roof, and talked about how much he enjoys the show, which is always nice to see, though I don't know why they did it on a roof.

And that's it for another series.

Congrats to Imperial, to UCL, and to you, dear reader, for making it the end of this post. If anyone deserves a trophy its you.

(Lucky for you, such a trophy exists. If you subscribe on this site you'll be ready for the next series when it starts in July! And if you subscribe to my Patreon, you'll get access to two series-worth of retro reviews, which detail the quarter-finals and onwards of older series)

Thanks for reading, and see you soon. Goodnight.

#university challenge #bbc2 #quizzy mondays

[angry-geese]

Blood Ties - Chapter Forty-Eight: For Whom the Bell Tolls

soulmate au Choso x reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of death but not for any major characters. brief mention of suicide. obligatory manga spoilers (kinda??)

Synopsis: Angel's help comes with some prerequesites; ones that are seemingly impossible to complete. The group is seemingly at an impasse until the arrival of new players brings some alarming information

Word Count: 3.6k

a/n: the formatting of this one got a little fucked up when i copy pasted it so sorry if it looks just a little wonky

prev - next

masterlist

The heat of early spring, combined with the poor ventilation of this room leads to miserable conditions. Smoke hangs heavy in the air; a byproduct of the fire, incense, and tobacco. Beside her, Sukuna sits on the floor, using a stone to sharpen his spearhead. To his left sits a bottle of oil, and cloth. In the low light of the room, the metal appears black. 

The arrival of spring marks the sorcerer’s third year in Japan, although she finds the passage of time increasingly harder to keep track of. Seasons are the biggest giveaway; with the coming of winter, she will pass her sixtieth. Though outwardly her appearance has changed little, she notices the effects of time more and more. She finds that wounds received in her younger years never really healed, simply lying dormant.

Uraume stops by once, bringing tea, and sits with them for a while. They’re silent for the majority of it, only nodding, or shaking their head when asked a question. She wouldn't consider them a friend; Uraume is more of an acquaintance. What little conversations they do have, are brief, and typically centered around Sukuna. Not that she minds. Both humans keep to themselves, and that suits them fine.

“You’re wearing it wrong.” Sukuna says.

He sets down what he’s holding: a spearhead, and a sharpening stone. “It’s backwards.” He says. “The way you’re wearing it is traditional of a death garment. Unless that was intentional.”

It wasn't.

“This is needlessly complicated.” She says, continuing to fasten her obi. When it provides even more resistance, she ties it off in a knot.

“Come here,” he says, gesturing with his hand, “let me fix it.”

He makes quick work of her mess of knots, tying it so it lays smooth against her back. Having four arms appears to be an advantage in a situation like this. His hand brushes against her back, smoothing out a wrinkle on her yukata. At one point in time, it belonged to Uruame, before it was hemmed to better suit her. The garment had the added bonus of being light enough to wear in Japan’s hot, humid summers.

“What’s the occasion?” He asks.

Even sitting, he is nearly eye level with her. His gaze is intense, but not accusatory. 

“The village down by the river is having a festival,” she says, “it’s a good chance to get off this damn mountain.”

“It’s ill-advised to go alone.” Sukuna says. 

“Are you suggesting you tag along?” She asks, the slightest ghost of a grin appearing on her face. “They’ll wonder why a man like you is with a woman almost four hundred years younger than him…”

The look on his face is unreadable, but it doesn't look like disapproval. Maybe slight annoyance, if that.

“What?” He asks. “Is my company not good enough for you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” She says flatly.

“You are aware that this indicates you’re an unmarried woman, right?” He asks, letting the soft, blue fabric fall through his fingers. 

“Seeing as my husband is dead,” she says, “technically I am.”

From beside him, he retrieves his spearhead, and sharpening stone. Her eyes follow the metal as it’s dragged across the surface of the stone. Repeated, almost meditative motions.

“Why are you still here?” He asks.

Her eyes narrow at the question. It’s not about the festival—yet it’s phrased as if it is. Years ago, she could have left and moved on to a different country. Perhaps she could have moved on to mainland Asia, then Europe. After that? Maybe Africa. Perhaps she will wander until she dies.

In her time here, she’s asked herself that same question. This place never brought a sense of belonging. She wasn't alone in feeling like an outsider here. Her home rests in a land incomprehensibly far away; yet her second one rests beside the King of Curses.

“Haven't we had this conversation before?” She asks. A tone of annoyance is audible within her voice, but it does nothing to deter him. 

Her hands fall loosely at her sides, before clenching into fists. Sukuna’s gaze follows her as she comes to a stop before the fire, tossing another log onto it. Embers spill into the air, pouring smoke further into the room.

“Far to the south, in Mexico, I met a man. A foreigner in those lands, as was I,” she says, “He told me of his homeland—of Japan. He told me tales of these… sorcerers. People with strange abilities. People like me,

“He warned me too. About a being called the King of Curses.”

As she comes to rest on the mat beside him, an arm entangles itself with hers. The blue cloth of her yukata pools around her, bunching around her hips.

“Finding this… being—this ‘King of Curses’ became my purpose.” She says. “If he wasn't willing to help me, then I figured he would at least grant me some answers,

“Everything I heard about you sounded like a warning. People’s eyes filled with fear at the mention of your name yet…

“I find it odd how sorcerers were the first to turn me away—to hurt me—yet you welcomed me in.”

And for the first time in decades, she has found “safety”. 

Sukuna lets out a noise between a scoff and a grunt. Non-committal. While his expression is flat—stern—there’s a flicker of emotion underneath. The light from the fire casts shadows across his face, only serving to disguise his expression even more.

“You don't miss it?” Sukuna asks. “Your home?”

What a curious question coming from him… 

“It’s been decades,” she says, “the world has changed plenty, but I have not.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

The Soulmate Sorcerer turns her attention back to the fire, eyes trained on the coals. She becomes acutely aware of every little noise within this temple; the crackling of the fire, Uruame’s footsteps, plates clattering around in an adjacent room. 

“Of course I do.” She says. “But there is nothing to go back to.”

…

He said he would be “out in a minute” five minutes ago now, but if the others are getting worried, then they show no sign of it. 

James scrubs and scrubs at the blood under his nails, and hopelessly at a stain on his shirt. It’s stress that causes him to be so nauseous; that causes him to pick at his skin until it bleeds. A metallic taste fills his mouth. His tongue prods against the rough flesh. In his sleep, he must have bitten his cheek. Water isn't enough to get out blood; he needs salt, or some peroxide.

When he lifts his head, he makes eye contact with someone in the mirror.

This woman isn't a complete stranger. James has seen her before—perhaps in some distant dream. Her hair—which falls just past her shoulders—is streaked with gray. Wrinkles mark the corners of her eyes. She’s only slightly younger than his mother, he thinks, maybe fifty or so. At her waist, hung on a belt made of braided leather, is a sword, and small knife.

A cold feeling tightens around his chest. James soon registers the feeling as fear. Internally, he curses himself. As if being haunted by a childhood friend wasn't bad enough… He's seeing things—he’s fucking seeing things! 

James ignores her at first. He remains lucid enough to know that this is a vision—that she isn't really there. That is until she steps towards him, pulling him backwards by his shoulder.

“Your ancestors stand before you and frown, James Whitford.” She says. It is her mouth that moves, but it is his voice that speaks. 

“Who—what—are you?” He asks.

“I am you.” She says. Flatly, as if this shouldn't be a surprise to him.

It's her mouth that moves, but it’s his voice that speaks. Hearing it come out of a mouth that isn't his own is almost enough to make his head spin.

“What do you want?” He asks.

And for a moment, when her hands tremble, so do his. Consciousness slips from him, much like a dream. All he feels is a quiet, unyielding anger. She crosses her arms, leaning against the tile wall. James can feel the chill of the tiles at his back.

“You want my opinion?” She asks, motioning to the gun at his belt. “Stick the barrel of this in your mouth and pull the trigger. Let the next soulmate sorcerer take over. Hopefully they’ll be less of a disappointment.”

“How charming,” James says with a scoff. “So… what? You want me gone so you can take over or something? Puppet my body around? Cause you’re not doing a whole lot right now…”

Like gas being thrown onto a fire, the anger within him grows tenfold. It’s her anger, yet he is not lucid enough to do anything about it. 

Worst of it all is the fear. Anger is one thing—it is controllable. But fear threatens to consume him entirely.

“If I wanted your body, I’d take it myself.”

James doesn't process it until after it’s happened: her fist connecting with the side of his head, then him lying face down on the floor. Blood pours from his nose, and a cut above his eyebrow in streams. He grips onto the edge of the sink in an attempt to pull himself up.

“You don't think I could?” She asks. “You don't think it's possible?

“You are me. Everything! Your thoughts, actions, habits, are all remnants of me! I have lived a hundred lives, do you really think you’re any different from them?

“This will repeat until the curse our ancestors set is released. Only then, will the cycle be broken,

“Do you wish for this to continue? For Louis to see you like this?”

The mention of his name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. His hand comes up to wipe at a droplet of blood that’s spilled down his lip.

“It'll… it’ll kill people!” He says, although his concern is unconvincing. “Thousands will die!”

“But that's not why you're afraid,” she says, sighing. “You're afraid it will finally come out that your sibling and the cursed womb were never soulmates in the first place. That once the string of fate is finally broken, they’ll realize what you’ve done. I get it. Really. Family is complicated like that.”

“That's not true!” James says, only to be interrupted.

“It was in their best interest,” she says, in a sudden moment of lucidity, not clouded by anger, “you would have joined their string of fate with Kenjaku if you thought it was going to save them. Didn't matter that you violated your own moral code. That you were a hypocrite. Or toyed with the lives of innocents. Anything to save your dear, little sibling-”

In a sudden bout of strength, and anger, James swings. But she’s not really there. The force of his swing carries his fist into the mirror, shattering it. Blood pours between his fingers, coating his palm, and leaving a red handprint on the edge of the sink.

“Haven't you realized?” She asks. “Unless you die, I will always be with you.”

The woman taps her pointer finger against her temple. His grip on the sink loosens as her foot slams into his back, forcing him to the ground. The little strength that remained in his limbs gives out. From him comes an undignified cry. The noise is finally enough to draw the other’s attention. In comes Angel, and Fushiguro. She helps roll him onto his side. From there, James is able to prop himself up into a sitting position.

“Oh no!” Hana plants her hands on James’ shoulders, steadying him. 

Only a few feet behind Hana stands the woman, her arms crossed in front of her chest. James’ eyes widen in panic. He lifts an arm to point where the woman stands. Hana turns to look, only to see nothing.

“You’re seeing things.” Angel says. Their tone isn't accusatory, or even worried. They speak, plainly, and calmly, despite their host’s terrified look.

“That obvious?” He asks.

The look on her face resembles pity. “At first I suspected it was due to blood loss,” Hana says, “but…” He glances up at her, their eyes meeting for only a moment. In them, James spies a look of fear. “Angel told me about you.” She continues. “About what you are…

“You're like us. Sort of. Within you is a reincarnated sorcerer that co-exists with your body like me, or Itadori. Except… yours works a bit differently than ours,” she continues. "When you suffered an injury that was nearly fatal, that sorcerer took over in a last-ditch attempt to keep your body alive.”

The cold feeling in his chest is replaced with something else. Something akin to concrete hardens in his stomach.

"Isn't that the point, though?" James scoffs. "Taking over seemed like the goal from the start."

"I doubt it's that simple." Hana says. "They're likely bound to some sort of agreement. Something preventing this sorcerer from taking over until you're gone. When your body assumed you were dying, that agreement was fulfilled, allowing them to begin the process of taking over. Since you're still alive, things are progressing slower but..."

It will still happen. Neurons will find new paths. Networks within the brain will rewire as it gets adjusted to its new host. And slowly, ever so slowly, James will cease to be.

“I’m sorry about this,” he says, swallowing hard, “it’s unfortunate you were dragged into this mess. I wish things turned out differently.”

The single eye of Angel glares down at him. His past life must have left quite the sour impression.

“Are you actually saying that to me?” Hana asks. “Or are you saying it because you wish you told that to someone else?”

She watches as his lips press into a thin line. “I’ll be fine,” says James, forcing himself to stand, “we need to deal with those new players.”

It has to be Kenjaku. That’s the only explanation…

In the adjacent room, the others gather around a window. James cranes his neck to look over them. Down on the street below, a cursed spirit stumbles into view. Figuring it nothing of note, he sits down in a nearby chair.

It’s not even noon, and the sky has grown dark. Clouds gathering overhead signal a coming storm. James backs away from the window, flopping down in a chair.

Within this hotel, the group sits in relative safety. Aside from the—albeit low—threat of cursed spirits, or stray players, it's isolated enough to provide cover. Should they need to, they could hole themselves up here for a while.

“Kenjaku may be planning for cursed spirits to conduct a one-sided massacre of non sorcerers.” Angel says. “If the cursed energy of the culling game players isn't enough to fill the colonies, it would provide insurance.”

“But why?” Asks James. “If even 10% of Japan’s population was mutated into sorcerers, that’s still thousands of people! That should be more than enough cursed energy!”

That’s still over 10,000,000 people. Not counting cursed spirits, born sorcerers, and trapped humans. Regular humans only release a small amount of cursed energy upon death, and are worth so few points that most players wouldn't bother killing them.

“What reason do non-sorcerers even have for entering the barrier?” Itadori asks.

“Maybe they weren't given a choice,” James says. “Kenjaku has people on the outside forcing others in—I ran into one a while back. It wouldn't be impossible for him to do that on a larger scale, especially if he deemed it necessary.”

But more than a thousand sorcerers have died here in this colony… that should be more than enough cursed energy! 

“In less than a week, we are going to face a loss of life near unimaginable to mankind,” James says. “In a matter of days, those who refused to participate, or haven't gained any points since the beginning are going to die. All that will remain are people willingly participating in this. When that happens, I have reason to believe that's when he will act next. Or…”

“Or what?” Asks Hana.

“We could release Gojo. Use him as bait. Force things into motion that way.”

The look on her face says she thinks it’s a bad idea. He stands, motioning to the window. “Whatever their reason—it’s probably best we ask them ourselves.”

…

Upon exiting the building, it doesn't take long for them to stumble across one of these new players. 

James senses something is wrong the moment he rounds the block: the presence of a human soul. It’s ripe with fear; sweet and putrid, moving towards them. He’s ducking before his brain fully processes what’s going on. Something metal clatters against the wall before falling to the pavement. He has to squint to get a better look at it: a small, metal syringe. Another clears just to his left. Had he hesitated for even a moment, that dart would be sticking straight into his arm. Rolling it over with his foot reveals a metal needle, and a sickly pink liquid leaking from it.

From behind, his shirt is seized by Itadori, dragging him into cover. That's when he notices the source of the shots: a cafe from across the street. The front window has been shattered, and broken glass is strewn across the sidewalk.

Before he can protest, Megumi makes a break for an alley across the street. Following just a step behind him, is Itadori. The soldier doesn't seem to know which to shoot at: either student, or the divine dogs. The air is buzzing with cursed energy, and a whirlwind of metal darts. 

With one anticlimactic strike, the man is knocked out.

It only lasts a moment. By the time the sorcerers cross the street, he has started to regain consciousness. It's not at all like the movies. If someone is knocked out for more than a few seconds, then they more than likely have experienced major brain damage.

With Itadori holding one arm, and Megumi holding the other, the soldier has no chance of escape. As insurance, Fushiguro’s divine dogs stand guard, ready to chase should he attempt it. But the soldier doesn't, and becomes almost resigned to his fate.

“Just what the hell are you trying to do?” James asks.

The soldier’s uniform bears no distinct markings, although he doesn't appear to be from Japan’s national defense force. The glasses he wears must be similar to Maki’s: meant to help him see curses.

“I don't know the exact details,” he says, sighing, “I’m just one of the grunts. But that cursed energy or whatever it is you guys use? I heard they want to study it as an alternative energy source.”

A cold feeling slithers into James’ chest. The soldier seems almost eager to diverge this information. Aside from a few pauses to think, he’s forthcoming with his words.

Following a moment of silence, Megumi is the first to speak up. “So they're researching how to reach energy self-sufficiency by having citizens produce their own energy? Huh.”

It’s Kenjaku, James thinks, that’s just a cover story. His actual plan is hidden in a web of little lies and people he’s screwed over. Kenjaku is nothing but a social chameleon with a forked tongue.

And James fell right into his web. It was the promise of money that drew him in, but when he looked in his eyes, it was Louis he saw. Perhaps that’s why he stuck with him as long as he did. Why all those sweet lies sank their teeth into him. 

“In the end, jujutsu headquarters holds the reins on power in the country.” Megumi says. Imagine that prideful bunch taking the initiative to popularize cursed energy. No way they’d let that happen,

“So he used that as bait to trick an army of non-sorcerers into the colony.”

“But there were several thousand players within this colony,” James says. “The sorcerers within the game should be enough to power his merge. What good will a couple hundred extra humans do?”

Aside from providing a full-course meal for the cursed spirits.

“How is it even possible to bring in this many people?” Megumi asks. “Did they bring in militaries from multiple countries?”

Is Kenjaku purposely trying to overcomplicate the game, so they aren't focused on the real outcome.

“In Tokyo colonies 1 and 2, a combined 2,500 people have died in combat,” Angel says, “here alone there should be more than enough cursed energy for the merger. It’s pointless.”

Pointless. 

Within a matter of days, if not hours, humanity will witness a loss of life nearly unknown to mankind. Not to something slow, like famine, or war. A painful death. A genocide of sorcerers and humans alike.

“I hate to say it, but they have a point,” James says. “In only a matter of days, we are going to witness a ‘great dying’ of players who refused to participate. Anyone who hasn't gotten points in nineteen days is subject to this. At least hundreds, if not thousands of people are going to die. That’s already more than enough cursed energy for the merger.”

James isn't certain if he’s trying to encourage Itadori, or discourage him. While he finds the action pointless, he needs to buy time. 

“Whether or not you save these soldiers, the outcome will remain the same,” Angel continues, “so don't drag Hana into this. My risks are hers, and I will not fight this pointless battle.”

Itadori scowls, his gaze falling to a crack in the pavement.

“Don't order us around,” Itadori says, although it is unclear if he is speaking to Angel, or Hana, “I’ve never trusted any of you.” 

Within Itadori, Sukuna stirs, perhaps drawn by the conflict. The student stuffs his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowed. He’s seen this look all too well in his younger sibling. In Itadori, it’s out of character. To James, this would be a cause for concern if their other matters weren't so pressing. 

“We weren't allies or anything in the first place,” Itadori continues, “Whitford already agreed to help us—his cursed technique will work. We can do this ourselves.”

As Itadori turns to walk away, the temperature in the air drops. Hana’s arms cross in front of her chest, pulling her sweater tighter around herself. This time, as the air comes alive, it is not with metal darts, but the sweet smell of fear. It’s as if the earth itself knows it has been cursed. A rift has opened that time will not heal.

The merger has begun.

#kshjfdkjh i have once again made more edits to this chapter #so there are some slight differences between this one and the ao3 version #eh eventually ill fix it but for now its good ksdjfhks #blood ties #jjk x reader #choso x reader #i totally forgot how to tag lmao