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christinebloodwrittings · 2 days

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To hunt or be hunted #12

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Lurking in the shadows, someone awaits the perfect occasion to strike. Alastor talks with Lucifer. Warnings: Lilith.

Oh who is she, a misty memory. XD I'm back, I'm sorry for the delay, this took a lot of re write, next one will have smut hehhe.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz @looking106

"Wake up," a voice from inside you warned you through the delicate rubbing of a cloth on the floor of the room. The dim light of the city showed you that it was very early in the morning, the subtle sound of footsteps made your ears perk up alertly, warning you of danger. In the darkness you couldn't see anything, an uncomfortable and acidic feeling spread in your chest when behind your neck, a hush became present.

"Keep quiet mutt, you'll wake him" who was that voice from? You had the king with his head on your chest, even in your unconscious you had in mind that he was more than capable of defending himself, however your instinct acted first. Your body assumed a considerable size, your fur stood up in such a way that it gave the illusion of ferocity and size. You acted as a shield over Lucifer, like a lion over his prey, seeing that no one was going to take it from you.

A hungry growl made the person behind you step back, "You seem to like him" arrogance, the voice was now to your eye level, in front of your face, "You have 3 seconds before I get you, leave now" you warned, your fans growing in size, whoever’s breath fanning across your face, a noticeable sweet alcohol smell invaded your nose.

"I would choose my words more carefully, if I were you" glowing purple eyes, the realization made you swallow a lump of saliva, but even with the shock you didn't lowered your stance, you made yourself bigger to cover Lucifer better.

"What are you doing here?" You whispered harshly, "It was a mistake, I made a rushed decision" you got a hold of her waist with your tail, yanking her backwards, "Too late" Lilith uncovered her head from the veil she was wearing, either she was making the air thicker or it just was the tension in the air, "He's my husband" she hissed, "Was your husband, he's mine now" you growled back.

"Do you think he shares that opinion?" She smiled, "I was there to support him after signing, he kisses in an adorable fashion" her smug faded away, her hair swirled in the air just like Charlie does. But just when you were ready to pounce on her, Lucifer moved around you, both of you froze in the act. You felt his hands taking snaking up to your back, following with a slight pressure that brought you down to him.

"This is not over" she walked over, her feather touch felt like a blaze next to your tail, she yanked on it earning a hiss from you, then she disappeared as fast as she arrived.

With a long heavy sigh you came down to your normal size after a few minutes, embracing Luci on your chest again. A rush of nausea hit Lucifer in his slumber, not enough to vomit, but enough to wake him, hearing your pounding heart almost shouting in your chest.

“Y/n, everything alright? Your heart is racing” he nuzzled against your neck, half asleep, "Just a nightmare, can I get a hug?" He left a kiss on your neck before pulling you to the side, your cheek on his neck, his arms holding your body close by your shoulders.

"Can I get a kiss?" He smiled, mindlessly so, "Sure" you pushed up your body, cupping one cheek with your hand and then smooshing a kiss on the other, his little giggle sent you to heaven.

"That's not what I meant" he laughed, his voice was delightfully hoarse, "Oh? His royal majesty was looking for something else?" You smiled, biting whatever urge you had to tell him about his ex-wife being in the room, and instead leaving some little kisses on the underside of his chin.

He opened one eye, glowing in the middle of the dark room, "Come on, just one kiss?" he looked down to you, a magnetic aura surrounding both. You leaned over his lips; the connection was instant and soft. The dance, one that was truly a bliss, brought out sighs that were perceived as prayers, hands that roamed up his chest to cup the pretty red of his cheeks and make a gentle fistful of his golden locks.

His as well, brought up your body on top of his, pulling on your waist and in fact that arm was tightly making sure you wouldn’t be free of his affections. The other, was playing with your tail, reaching the burnt end in which, without his knowledge, his ex-wife had placed a warning.

“You’re hurt” he broke the kiss, giving that at the touch of the affected area you hissed and your tail tried to yank itself away from his touch, “Maybe I was too close beside the fire place, didn’t noticed” you lied, carelessly, or so you thought it had sound like.

“Here” his magic got rid of the pain and the chance to get an awful burn scar, “Dr Morningstar to the rescue” you cheered lovingly, “I would hate to see you hurt, but if you ever are, I will gladly assist you” he purred, kissing your forehead, “Mm? With the sexy nurse outfit?” he bit your lip while chuckling.

“Naughty” he teased, “Prideful” he took out his tongue at your comeback, making you giggle, “You like me that way” he smirked. Your smile was adorable, yet to him, it seem that it didn’t reached your eyes, so he went ahead and asked “Is something bothering you?” with a sleepy but concerned face.

‘Better now than tomorrow’ you thought, “I have something to ask, but I don’t want to hurt you” you began with the shittiest line ever, adding to nerves he just found out he was feeling. “Ask” he inquired, “I find myself divided, I spoke to Alastor about it, but I don’t know if-“ he cut you off before you could ramble, “You like him” he had a face that was unreadable, but he was right, so you nodded, “And what about me?” you ran your fingers through his hair, “I like you the same way” he sighed feeling your hand comb his locks.

“I’m sorry” you began after a while, “I would never ask a question of this nature in my life, much less to someone who wants to court me, however it weighs me to feel, when I am alone, divided. Your affection is gentle, bright, I feel undeserving of you. With Alastor it is different, it is almost as if we were hunting each other, a battle for power and domination” he opened an eye, paying you his upmost attention.

“With you, I feel hunted, desired, I find myself in the decision to hunt, or be hunted, both exciting me to no end” he saw in your words and your eyes, a weird type of desire, one he’d rather have all to himself, “I have become an addict to the attention you two provided, but sadly, if I am to be put in the position to choose, I rather hurt no one any further” he cleared his throat, positioning on top of you this time, to have a clear view of your face.

“And how would this go? Uhm? You think he’ll be open to this?” he wasn’t trying to sound defensive, but he was hoping Alastor would say no to the idea, at the same time, if he didn’t you would rather be single. “I suppose so, it was his idea” you shrugged as he hummed, “I’m not sleeping a single night without you, if he wants to go ahead with this, he’ll either have to occupy the other side of the bed or spend it alone” he stated.

Your heart fluttered imagining yourself being the center on a sandwich in between both of them, “He’ll ask you about this matter later today, I just wanted you to hear it from me first” he kissed down on your cheek, “I appreciate it. I believe you have a question?” to his smirk you cheekily smiled, “Will you consider a relationship with me?” you raised a golden blush on his cheeks, “And Alastor” his eye turn made you laugh and pinch his sides, “No, you would be with me, if you want anything with him that’s another conversation entirely” he matched your energy, pinching your sides as well.

“I am going to polish the details of this deal” you kissed his forehead, “So is that a-“ he interrupted you with more kisses and a tight embrace, “Yes, if it would make you happy, Ozzie had spoken once or twice about couples of more than two” but of course with Lilith wasn’t an option, not with her ill temper.

“If it makes you uncomfortable you really don’t have to-“ he kissed your lips, shushing you immediately, “Will I still wake up to you every morning? Will you still brush my hair? I just want you, in whatever shape you allow me to” you realized he was still in his suit, so you slid off his vest, “It will be my pleasure, my king” he groaned with a smile, “My name, Y/n, please” you giggled, his childish manners sometimes impressed you, for a man his age, “Lucifer” content he nuzzled against your neck.

“You have plans for today?” you finally managed to remove each piece of clothing from the waist up, admiring his milky white skin again, “I have to do my monthly check of my company, I’ll do breakfast and lunch, then I’m off, how about you?” you sighed thinking about the immense amount of paperwork that awaited you at the office.

“Well, miss you, then I have a tower of paperwork regarding other rings that has been accumulating the past seven years, help Charlie around, chat with the busboy, then have you back after or before dinner” he hummed against your neck, happy to feel your hands on his bare skin.

“I would like to have intimate business with you, but I want to make it special, I do not know how though” you couldn’t see it, but his tail was moving as if it was wagging, “How about you join me for a bath when you return? See where the night takes us afterwards” you eyed the pile of rubber ducks on the corner of the room.

“Will there be a rubber duck floating in between the bubbles?” he smiled, “You want to choose one?” he clicked his fingers, making himself wear his ducky pajamas, as he felt the excitement grow in his heart, “I adore the one with the fancy white hat, also the lawyer” the one of the hat looks much like him.

🍎📻

Later in the afternoon, the king heard a knock on his door. Taking a deep sigh he signed the last document before walking towards the door. Alastor wore a new deep burgundy suit, it had specks of gold on the lapels, very subtle yet elegant, just for the occasion.

“We have a matter in our hands” Alastor's little smile was going to make the king lose his patience one day, but for you, he would remain at least cordial. “I believe so too” he watch the demon just come inside his room and make himself comfortable.

“She wants both of us” it was no surprise for Lucifer anymore, so he snickered, “Are you willing to spend your nights alone?” Alastor made it seem as if he didn’t cared to spend his night alone, he didn’t, but if he could hear your heart as he slept, even better.

“I am rarely a man of physical contact; she can find that in you most often” not entirely a lie, but one good enough to send a bitter shot down his throat, “Says the man that has fucked her twice” his red blood boiled thinking he may have seen everything you have done with him, but is not as he didn’t knew.

“Did you enjoyed watching through the lock? Next time I’ll do you a solid and invite you to watch” he pushed his luck, he noticed because Lucifer’s face shifted to a goat’s skull, hollow and dark, in where the cavities of his eyes turned into two flames of hellfire. “Don’t test me Alastor, I’m not just a man” his distorted voice echoed in between the room and the deer’s bones.

“I Just want her to be happy” he bit down a tremor in his voice, watching his face go back to normal, “We have reached common ground” Lucifer went back to his documents, “Three days a week, I ask her to be with me” the king laughed, “I told her, and I’ll repeat it to you, I am not spending the night without her” Alastor felt very cocky when he uttered the next phrasing, “Then you’ll have me as well in your bed” to his surprise, the king didn’t cared.

“You can stand there and stare, for all I care, my condition remains” Lucifer saw in between the permits a lawsuit against your company, he denied the lawsuit with a nice remark that they can go to hell, while almost nailing the denied stamp against the paper.

“We should plan for dates as well?” Alastor asked, making a calendar appear in the air, “Just so we don’t stump one another” the king agreed, “Very well, but my relationship is with her only, I hold no sentiment towards you” he threatened, the wendigo made a snarl as he rolled his tongue to respond, “Likewise”.

“That snake on her arm, should we be concerned?” Lucifer hummed a yes, “It’s part of the deal, we have to ensure it disappears”, he had thought it was a tattoo, not that it had anything to do with your suicidal feelings, “What will happen if we don’t?” Lucifer only confirmed his thoughts, “It will reach her heart and she will die”.

Alastor hummed in understanding, offering his hand to the king, “For this purpose only, I want to set a truce, I hate you anyways, but she…might be worth it”, with an unnecessary aggressiveness he took the deer’s hand and shook in the deal, without voodoo attached, much to Alastor’s discomfort “Truce, for now”.

🍎📻

The heat of an unknown fire suffocated the room that was your office, the candle on your desk cried until it burned down into the wood. "I didn't think you were this famous, Axe-man” the voice from this morning, made herself comfortable on the couch behind you.

“Afternoon, my queen, I thought that since our disagreement this morning, you would take the hint, I see that is not the case” It didn't matter how brave you could be, just how cunning, if she got angry and did something impulsive you could dodge her and use the divine light that you kept in a bottle inside your boot, that Adam was very irresponsible with something so destructive.

“What do you plan to do, marry him and be queen?” she took your hair in her claws, braiding a few locks, “If my intentions were so simple, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, not with you on your feet at least” you would’ve had her hanged if you were queen of hell, or better yet, decapitated.

“Watch your words, I’m still your queen!” she yelled, her eyes glowing like purple blazes. “As I understand it, you have to be married to the king for his title to give you any power, unfortunately you undid it on a single piece of paper” she emitted a snarl, unearthly, not like any animal or demon you had ever heard.

“What I don’t understand, is why you desire to pretend you can feel anything but bloodlust” she spit on a side of your face, as you made calculations of winnings and loses of the last month. “If you’d wanted me dead, you would’ve done it already” she laughed, “That’s true, I need you to do something for me” it was your time to laugh, “What makes you think I’ll do squat for you?”.

She took her sweet time to answer, before showing you a contract with Alastor’s living name, “Because I own Alastor’s soul” she had the nerve to laugh in your face, but you didn’t minded her bullshit, “And the edge of my axe can cut soul agreements” that was a lie, but oh how you wished you had your soul in hand.

“Then why you haven’t cut your own?” ‘Fuck that’s a good question!’ you cursed internally, “I desire death, a pleasure your daughter has denied me nine years today, but I think my fate has changed paths, and also your daughter hid it from me” and a true fact, after what happened with Valentino and Vox she was not happy and hid your axe.

“And you think my husband can make you want to live?” no, but you could try believing that he wanted to, “He seemed pretty…decided” she smiled wickedly at that meek answer, “But do you?”, your silence told her everything she needed to crush you.

“Oh, poor Y/n, so high was your fame, your wealth, you had everything. But without your daughter, without that light to guide you, you’re empty. Do you believe your soul is deserving of any value, or even salvation? You are nothing without her, and you will not find her when you die. Do you believe that death will offer mercy, to a corrupt soul like yours? One that bears two thousand souls in their hands, the same ones that will subject you to your torment for the rest of eternity” she spoke as if she could see the hands of the souls you killed, holding your feet down.

And yet, despite how much her intimidation stabbed though your human soul, “Undermining me will be in vain, I am aware of my torments, and the burden that they mean, and the souls bound to me by contract as well. I do not need someone like you to remind me” and you made a mistake, by being the first one to be annoyed, accentuating her lack of status or how little she meant to you.

“Someone like me? Explain yourself” she was indeed offended, meanwhile you were trying your best not to laugh, "I'll be honest with you, I'm a horrible person, when I kill I don't feel fear nor remorse. However, I wouldn't abandon my daughter for anything in the world. But, by you being the first woman, I might cut you some slack, you didn't had anyone to teach you how to be a mother” you’ve been holding that one nine years.

The happiness and satisfaction that it caused you to cast that line at her lowered the quality of your spell to disguise your appearance, in this way Lilith was able to briefly observe the wounds of your battle with Charlie. Astonished, she wanted to knock, out of curiosity rather, you got up from the table, knocking over the chair in the process, so that what happened that morning wouldn’t happen again.

“Those scars” she finally spoke, “Courtesy of your daughter” you were highly defensive, ears pulled back and a growl here and there. “She’s strong” she wasn’t wrong, “With a sight she pulverized my horns, I can’t guarantee what will happen if she sees you, but mark my words…” you walked so close to her, she had to look down to be on your eye level.

“If she orders me to kill you, I will” and with pleasure, but you omitted that part, “He’ll never forgive you” you knew that from the very beginning, “And I’ll die with that in mind” and you were fine with it.

“I despise you” it was her turn to growl, but you smiled and teasingly added, “And yet you do nothing about it” you noticed how purple was her lipstick, and wondered where she got it. “If I kill you, Lucifer will be angry, and I’ll be doing you a favor” ‘Oh she would ruin her manicure’ you thought, breathing in an apple scented perfume, “That perfume is addictive” you mean that as sarcasm but didn’t quite sounded like it, “He loves it” ‘What is this, the wife and the lover?’ you laughed internally before letting out something petty and pathetic, “Used to” like a teenager fighting for a boy.

Unfortunately, she wasn't going to give you a reason to attack her, and neither were you, so like the cold war, she and you were just threatening each other trapped a very strange sexual tension.

“A holy one is in the chamber, get away from her!” When you thought your day couldn't get any weirder, your assistant walked through the door with a loaded Carmine Holy-rifle. “Careful, my queen, you have yet to be dead” she looked at you with hate as if you had planned it, then smoke started to fill the room, “This isn’t over” you laughed to that in response “That’s twice today”.

She rambled a “Well, next time will be the last” and then the smoke went away along with her.

All you could do was chuckle and mutter a decisive, “Bring it”.

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muddy-water-1997 · 1 day

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𝖣𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖠𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖪𝗂𝖽𝗌

"𝖨𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌; 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍." - 𝖯𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖡𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗍𝗍.

𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖪𝗂𝖽𝗌

𝖳𝖶: 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾

Bangchan: Building flatpack furniture

"I’m pretty sure that’s not where that goes.” You tilt your head toward Chris, confusion etched on your face as he tries to fit a square piece of wood into a circular hole.

“Tell that to Ikea!” he scoffs, trying a few more times before giving up and looking at the instructions.

“Babe,” you say with a sing-song tone, reaching over the pile of wood to take the instructions. “They’re upside down.” You laugh as you flip the paper and hand it back to him.

“Oh! Well, that makes a lot more sense.” Chris chuckles, searching for the correct piece. “So the circle goes into the circle…” he mumbles, finally matching the two pieces. You laugh, returning to your part of the flatpack puzzle.

“Why don’t we just do this later, babe? We could be doing something much more exciting right now,” Chris suggests with a mischievous grin.

“Christopher. No. You’re not distracting me from building furniture with sex again!” you say, firmly putting your foot down.

“Well, at least I know how to make sure we finish that job…” he replies with a wink.

Lee Know: Dancing in the kitchen when cooking

Sure, it was cliché, but nothing could stop you from dancing around the kitchen while cooking breakfast for the man you loved. Knowing Minho had a long night at the studio, you had your headphones on in a feeble attempt to keep the volume low so he could sleep. While he was a dancer by trade, you were more of a dancer by passion—or, instead, someone passionate about dancing despite being terrible at it, moving with the grace of an elephant in ballerina shoes.

It wasn’t unlike you to listen to your boyfriend's music in secret; you’d never admit it to his face—the relentless teasing about being a fan while sleeping in his bed wouldn’t be worth it. So, it was mornings like these where you could happily sing along to "God’s Menu" while whisking away at the pancake batter.

“Cooking like a chef, I’m a five-star Michelin,” you sang, mimicking Felix’s voice as you whisked and spun around the room, mindful of your voice level so you could bring Minho his pancakes in bed. After one last spin, you locked eyes with him, leaning against the counter by the door, clapping slowly, his heart eyes almost popping out of his head.

“Minho!” you exclaimed, jumping in surprise. “I tried to stay so quiet! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You apologised, walking over to kiss him on the cheek.

“I don’t know what I’m more offended by: the fact you were going to let me miss this, or that you weren’t singing my part,” he teased with a playful grin.

Changbin: Repairing a broken appliance

"Binnie, baby, it’s a microwave. I think we should just call someone or maybe just buy a new one," you suggest, reaching for his toolkit to prevent the inevitable disaster of him putting something metal inside the machine.

“No, bunny, it’s fine! I know what I’m doing,” he insists, reclaiming the toolkit and placing it back on the counter.

“You’re in an idol group; you’re not exactly an electrician. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself… or me,” you say tentatively, cringing every time he picks up a tool.

“I’m in a studio with electrics all the time. Trust me, it’s fine,” he reassures you, though his expression is puzzled as he examines the back of the microwave. He picks up a screwdriver, placing it against the panel to unscrew it.

“Wait!” you quickly interject. He turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “It’s still plugged in,” you whisper, teeth clenched at the near-disaster. He puts down his tools and grabs you in his arms, sitting you on the kitchen island planting a kiss to your lips.

“Maybe we should just call someone,” Changbin laughs in defeat, finally relenting.

Hyunjin: Changing the bedsheets

“We were so close!” Hyunjin exclaimed, bursting into laughter as another corner of the bedsheet popped off the mattress and landed in the middle of the bed.

“Are you sure this is the right size?” you asked, gasping for air between laughs. This had happened at least three times, and you were starting to suspect he was doing it intentionally just to make you smile.

“It’s the same sheet! It’s just been washed,” he insisted, trying to secure the corner back in place and struggling yet again.

“I’ll work on the sheet; you focus on the duvet,” you insisted. “Watching you do this over and over is going to give me a hernia.” You playfully swatted him toward the pile of duvets and covers. He relented, letting you take charge of the bottom sheet. You quickly pushed the corner into place.

“See, that wasn’t too—oh, shit.” As soon as you went to admire your work, another corner sprang free, sending you both into another fit of laughter.

“If we’re lucky, we might get into bed before the sun rises,” Hyunjin teased.

Han: Leaving notes around the home

Han had been away on tour for three agonising months. It was always the same when he left; nothing ever felt right. The apartment was too quiet, too clean; it didn’t feel like home. After his first long trip and realising how much it affected you, he started leaving little notes around the house in unexpected places. Even three months later, you were still finding new ones.

You both love this tea; you save it for special occasions—family, guests, and moments like these when you’re missing him more than usual. As the kettle boils, you rummage through the back of the cupboard and find the little metal tin you keep it in. Opening the lid, the sweet aroma fills the air, instantly reminding you of him. Reaching inside, you pull out another note. Reading it brings tears to your eyes, and you quickly grab your phone to tell him you found another one.

“Missing me so much that you got the tea out? I guess you must have hit the three-month mark. I miss you too, angel. - Hannie.”

Felix: Playing a competitive video game

“No fair! You cheated!” Felix exclaimed, his eyes glued to the screen in front of you both in shock. The tea on the table had gone cold, forgotten over the shouting and screaming from the two of you going head to head. Any on-looker wouldn’t believe you were madly in love with each other if they happened to pass by.

“Beginner's luck, what can I say?” you replied, leaning back into the sofa with your arms up, basking in your victory.

“It’s Mario Kart beautiful, there’s no beginner's luck!” He laughed, leaning over to kiss you as a reward.

“You know, baby, if you weren’t such a passenger princess—” you began, only to be cut off.

“Not you, too! I get enough of this from Channie-hyung. When do I have time to learn to drive?” he protested playfully, putting his remote down and moving closer to you.

“Well, Seungmin managed it…” you teased as he moved closer, trapping you beneath him with a roll of his eyes.

“One more round,” he pleaded, his lips brushing against yours. “Loser has to make dinner?” he suggested.

“Bet,” you whispered back, kissing him softly.

Seungmin: Deciding on what takeout to eat

You loved Seungmin wholeheartedly, but decisiveness wasn’t one of his strong suits. He sat at the table, surrounded by at least five different menus from local takeout spots, trying to decide what to order for dinner.

“At least three of these places serve ramen; just pick one!” you insisted, knowing you would end up ordering ramen anyway.

“But do you want ramen?” he asked, his eyes focused on the menus you hadn’t taken.

“Maybe after we’ve eaten…” you laughed at the innuendo, but Seungmin was too engrossed in the menus for the joke to register. “Minnie, love, it’s just food. I really don’t mind! Whatever you want,” you reiterated. He picked up a menu for a Chinese restaurant. Maybe he was going to stray out of his comfort zone. Then he put it back down and reached for one you had taken from him.

“Okay, okay. We’ll order from here. Their ramen is always good; can’t really go wrong,” he stated.

“You’re so predictable.” You laughed, standing up from the table to grab your phone to place the order.

“Hey! I just got the ramen joke!” he called after you, laughing.

IN: Binging trashy reality TV

“Come on! One more!” IN pleaded from the other side of the sofa. You were wrapped up in a long blanket, your legs intertwined with his, a bundle of snacks between you.

“Innie, I’m so tired!” you protested, eyes half-closed as he hit the 'Next Episode' button on the screen. You glanced at your phone; it was 11 pm. You’d been watching the same show for the past six hours, only taking breaks for meals and bathroom visits.

“Oh baby, but they’re just about to confront the cheater, and I don’t want to watch it without you…” His eyes were wide, pleading. How could you say no to him?

“Fine, one more,” you conceded easily. “But you’re bringing me breakfast in bed in the morning.” You joked, knowing he would move heaven and earth to make you happy. Truthfully, you were eager to see the cheater confronted by his three ex-mistresses.

“Deal!” he agreed, his face lighting up with excitement as the episode started.

𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾? 𝖳𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾! 𝖬𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌!

𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖣𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖣𝖬!

#stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids #stray kids ot8 #skz ot8

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dunmeshistash · 2 days

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I’ve been seeing a lot of complaints abt lack of diversity in dunmeshi since the animation. What do u think abt it? Like I get wanting representation and giving black and brown ppl more characters to relate to would be absolutely fabulous, but I also feel that the western fandom are sometimes too entitled with things like that. I even see some ppl completely discrediting the whole show just bc there wasn’t a black character? This was meant for Japanese ppl. Most mangakas don’t expect their work to be animated initially unless they are already hugely successful and therefore don’t expect to get a major international audience, so the representation they put in will inherently be more relevant to Japanese ppl. But then again Japan does have a small but still significant black population, especially in the big cities so it’s still sth reasonable to ask for. Just, u know, not sth to discredit the whole show for especially considering the medium I think.

I must preface this once again by saying I'm just some guy™️and I'm not gonna say if it is or isn't good representation cause that's subjective. Rather I'll try to explain what I think about people's reactions (cause that's interesting to me)

I understand the complaints about the lack of diversity, and I don't think "this was made for a japanese audience" to be a good argument since the basis of the story and most of the characters are based on western fantasy. So most of the characters aren't even japanese, so it wasn't really a case of relatability.

I believe the arguments of lack of representation dungeon meshi suffers probably comes from a backlash to the overwhelming praise it gets, I think some people (me included sometimes) get a little too overexcited and overpraise it, especially when it comes to the representation.

We compare it to other anime and I think for that we kinda exaggerate on how much representation there actually is, cause most anime has none. So I guess some people dislike that the "bare minimum" is being praised as if is revolutionary, it can be frustrating for someone that wishes for good and real representation for themselves when they see the safest representation ever being praised as something out of the ordinary. I guess anime fans (ME INCLUDED) are like battered partners as soon as we get someone that treats us like human beings well we think they're god lmao.

The internet hates subtlety and critical thinking tho. So "It's not as good representation as you're hyping it up to be" becomes "this has shit representation" and people ignore that it IS a step on the right direction, especially when it comes to anime.

I think dungeon meshi is pretty cool representation wise for what it is tbh, especially when it comes to character design. Ryoko Kui is a master of representing varying people of all shapes and sizes, and I can tell as an artists she makes an effort with what she draws.

Why the main character are the most convetionally atractive well built ones, Why her drawings outside dungeon meshi are so much more diverse than dungeon meshi itself etc is things we can only guess 👍 (remembering that yeah, she doesn't really draw black people even outside dunmeshi)

Anyway once again I just think nuance is the ideal, it doesn't need to be "the best representation ever" nor "the worst representation ever" it is what it is, there's good things about it, bad things about it and okay things about it.

#Plus everyone is racist and you need to make a conscious effort to stop being racist #specially if you live in a mostly homogeneous country #I might be dark skinned but only recently (like in the last 5 years) have I started drawing more dark skinned characters #america is much farther in cultural awareness than many other countries #which isn't an excuse more of an explanation to why its rare to see good representation from anime #dunmeshi complaint

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connorsnothereeither · 2 days

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was it hard/weird to go from being a fan to a cast member? And what was your favorite part of each?

I mean,,, in an odd way not really? There was a slight weirdness to it in the beginning, maybe, but outside of a few issues, it was honestly a very easy transition for the most part, and I think it’s because I was friends with the some of the cast before I was a fan? I sort of occupied this weird middle space already while I was in the fandom, almost.

I didn’t really start watching Fable solely from the place of stumbling onto it as a fan. I came into it wanting to watch and support my friends. Most of the cast and I were already in the same circle of friends and creators, or at least closely adjacent ones, when the server launched. Jamie and I had been great friends for a few years at that point, and had connections and friendships with a lot of the cast through my girlfriend and other mutuals before even joining the fandom. So a lot of the time, as much as I was active in the fandom side of things, I was also talking with the cast and my friends about the creator side of things (not to mention being a mod in the discord and in twitch chats), and had more of the cast I kind of knew reach out to me and become better friends because I was in the fandom. So I was sort of already a known presence and mutual when I was invited into the cast server as the VA for Deltavera, and after spending so long in that creative space (at least a few months) as a guest voice actor, not much really changed when I was invited as a player character, other than getting my own character. I was sort of already there in a way, I just… got to also be a cast member for season 3.

In terms of my favourite part of each?

From a fan perspective; I love the support the Fable fandom has for each other. There’s such an excitement and supportive atmosphere to the things everyone creates and the way everyone participates in lore together from the fandom side of things. Whether it’s people spending ours in vc’s puzzling out codes and languages together, or the way so many people came together to theorize, to even just how complimentary the fans are of each other’s work, there is such an aspect of community which is ironically not present in a lot of big fan communities I find.

And from the cast perspective it’s much the same. I love getting to see how people react to things I’ve made. I love people translating Telchin passages, or theorizing about little Ulysses lore drops, or make headcanons for him which I always adore reading. As someone who has wanted to be a writer since I was 5 years old, there is an excitement and happiness I genuinely can’t describe about seeing people react and engage with media I’ve made or had a hand in making, and I genuinely get emotional about it a lot of the time. I love being part of something which has a community in the way it does.

#fable smp #fablesmp #fablesmp ulysses

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yuurei20 · 2 days

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Hello!! Sorry if this is a little something out of your wheelhouse but I keep seeing people say Yana said in a tweet that the Twst’s story will continue after the current main story arc. Do you know if she actually said it or have a link to that tweet? It feels like an urban legend and idk if I can believe it without seeing it for myself. Thanks if you get around to answering this and if not then have a good night/afternoon/morning!

Hello hello! Thank you for this question!

There has been no explicit statement released by Yana, Aniplex or anyone on the direction of the main story (that I have been able to find), which makes sense!

According to the interviews we have, plans/ideas/characters are changing all the time behind the scenes (sometimes long after development has begun), so someone saying "these are our plans for the future!" at any time would be very unwise. It is a volatile industry!

Proving that something has happened is much easier than proving something has not (which is likely why a lot of these rumors get so popular), but I can certainly share the things that we know have been said! ^^

I reviewed the two official interviews that Yana has given on Twst, one published in the Magical Archives game guide in 2020 and one posted to the Apple Store in 2023, and here are all the comments that might be meant to relate to future endeavors!

・"I wrote this story with the intention of developing mutual understandings through such clashes. So no matter where this story goes, it will never be about forgiveness or saving someone."

・"I would like to have raid battles where players fight together. The theme of the game is 'making problem children cooperate with each other,' so I feel that such an addition to the gameplay would allow us to better feel the growth of the characters."

・"I would also like to collaborate with other Disney productions. The characters in 'Twisted Wonderland' are also Disney characters, so I don't know if collaboration is the right word."

・"I would also like to continue to dress the characters up in gorgeous outfits. I have so many ideas for what kind of fashion I want them to wear, what kind of makeup I want them to try…there are so many things I want to do."

・"As long as villains are the basis for these characters, I think it is important that they never become overly good people."

・"However, I am sure that more and more events are going to be held in the future, so I am wondering if parallel and ‘if’ worlds are going to start appearing."

・"The text of the first book is 35,000 Japanese characters long but book 6 has over 250,000. Up until about book 3 users are still getting to know the characters, so we prioritized helping people come to understand the world of Twst and keeping things compact. After the game was released, however, it felt like people were reading much more deeply into the story than we had anticipated. So now I include much more information than was provided during those setup chapters."

・Going forward things are going to be on a much larger scale, incorporating not only the vertical and horizontal axes of the story but also expanding upon elements such as a present, past and future. Look forward to Book 7 (currently on chapter 2)!

・"We will continue to develop this game that emphasizes the spirit of villains that cannot be discouraged, and we hope that our users will continue to enjoy it.”

・"Thank you so much for playing Twisted Wonderland. We will continue to do our best to make this game into something that can add a little more fun and color to your daily lives."

I have seen fan-rumors before of maybe an RSA arc, or perhaps the 4th years being introduced, or even the current class graduating to welcome a new wave of 1st-year students, but they are all unproven theories ^^ Very fun to think about, but unofficial!

#twstask #twisted wonderland #twstyana

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outrunningthedark · 2 days

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What is sad is that both sides of the fandom are blind to their favorites' misdeeds.

I'm not agreeing with people digging up Lou's dirt, but some of his fans bring up Ryan's dirt time and time again for what? Eliminating the competition? Delegitimizing a non-canon ship despite they already have their own canon ship? When many other cast and crew have their own questionable beliefs but are still employed? Even Oliver date(d) someone who is a fan of right-wing pundits and no one bats an eye because, why? He's the center of this shipping war and if he's kicked out of the show the foundation will crumble?

Both sides suck. Both sides have all of these unspoken intents with airing the rival ships' dirt. Let's not ignore one side to put a blame on the other. Plain and simple.

I...think we're actually agreeing here? Because what this all boils down to is hypocrisy. The Lou and Tommy hate is, lbr, mostly coming from fans who are still reeling over Queer Eddie getting scrapped before it ever got put on paper. I agree that what Ryan did in 2020 shouldn't still be treated as a "gotcha" moment when his cast mates ultimately were the ones who had to (and chose to) accept his apology. But that's not the only incident that exposed us to how he moves when the set cameras aren't rolling. His stans keep up with everything. They purposely didn't talk about a lot of his behavior during his relationship because they didn't want to invite that negativity to their blogs. And some were in straight up denial, claiming his ex was using his account and posting things SHE agreed with. Do I hope being on his own is helping him separate himself from those conservative/right-wing ideologies? 100%. But if you're (gen) going to talk about what someone was posting on instagram ten years ago because you don't like that he's "in the way of a ship" (and yes, that's the only reason they were looking, they didn't know who tf he was just a few months ago), what someone else believes or posted much more recently than that is also fair game. The bottom line? Fandom needs to learn to separate the actors from their characters or quit the show altogether. There will always be something not to like about these people if we take the time to dig deep enough into their backgrounds and we shouldn't be deciding where they "rank" in terms of offensiveness just because of who they play on tv. What's not offensive to one person is gonna be offensive to another. It's all the same.

#anonymous #tina speaks

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kaliforniahigh · 1 day

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I decided to write a HC about Noah dating a girl with ARFID (Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder)

This is solely based on my experience. Even though I'm not professionally diagnosed, all the evidence and my selective eating points to ARFID.

And I just know he would be the sweetest.

Let's start with the first date. They were always nerve-wracking for you, because he told you he would be picking the place. But what if it had no options for you?

Other dates had gone south because of this. You hearing things along the lines of "why are you such a picky eater?" "you're an adult, you should eat everything!"

It goes without saying you've been out of the dating scene for a while. But something told you that Noah was different. He was very kind and caring, it was difficult for you to picture him being an asshole to you like the other ones.

Once you get to the restaurant, you start to scan the menu, hoping he isn't one of those people who like to order for each other.

Salmon, fish, oyster... as you keep reading, the fear gets worse and worse, because sea food is really NOT your thing.

But then you get to the kids menu and your eyes finally land on the chicken and fries plate.

Noah obviously notices this, and he obviously thinks he fucked up because why the hell would he not ask you if you liked sea food before picking the restaurant??

"You don't like sea food, do you?" He asks with a shy smile.

"It's not that I don't li-" "You can say you don't like it, it's totally fine, I won't be upset or anything" so you tell him that it's actually not your preferred food.

He stands up from his seat and extends his hand for you to take "c'mon, let's go eat something we're both going to enjoy. I'm not gonna let us have a shitty first date"

You're honestly shocked, because he is going out of his way to make sure you enjoy tonight.

The months pass and he notices habits you have. Like pushing aside some things on your plate, or checking your burger to see if everything is ok. And he really wants to ask, but he doesn't know how. And he doesn't want to offend you.

The day he really can't help it is when he invites you backstage to a show he is performing. In the rush that is everything before a concert, he really doesn't notice you don't eat anything from the catering table.

You give him a kiss for good luck and take your place side stage to watch him.

Towards the end of the concert, he notices you're gone. But he just thinks it's a bathroom break or something of the sort.

He thanks the fans, they throw the towels and guitar picks and he heads backstage when someone stops him. "Hey, man. You should check on Y/N, she doesn't seem like she's very well"

He frowns and runs to where you are, noticing that you are, in fact, very pale, your hands are shaking and cold.

"What happened, baby?"

"I just need to eat something, I'll be fine"

"When was the last time you ate? Here, we have food around here, grab a plate" He starts to look around but notices you're not on the same wavelength as he is with this.

So you have no other option but to tell him. The hard time you had as a kid, the never eating from the school cafeteria, or your parents not being able to go to restaurants because you don't eat anything there.

The patronizing looks you got when you told people you don't eat hot dogs. Or soup. Or sushi. Or sea food.

After this, he always makes sure he walks around with a safe snack for you. He calls hotels to make sure they have safe options for you to eat for breakfast. Checks every restaurant menu beforehand. Talks to his tour management about food options for the catering they have.

But he also encourages you to eat different things. So he always buys things he thinks you're going to enjoy. He says it's a win-win situation, because if you don't eat it, then he can have it himself.

I would like to write more on this topic, so if you have suggestions, you can send them!

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian headcanons #bad omens imagine #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens

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angelsdean · 11 hours

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I know it's a bitter pill to swallow in this fandom for many reasons but, the phrase "open to interpretation" IS inherently a positive phrase that good creators use to affirm to their audiences that stories and art belong to the fans, and that every fan is able to find their own meaning through their own interpretive lens. It's not up to creators or actors to tell people what something--especially ambiguous or subtextual moments--mean. Everyone will come to a different understanding, some views might be more supported by canon than others, but it's still within every viewer's right to see things how they see them.

All "open to interpretation" means is: you get to interpret it! And you! And you! This is a key tenant of any creative work. It can be interpreted. And that is what literary analysis is all about. You build a case for your interpretation. You go into the text and find supporting evidence for your view, your thesis. And some interpretations are argued better than others. But everyone's still allowed to have their interpretation. (Also, literary analysis is fun).

I say all this because I've seen posts about Jensen going from "open to interpretation" to "clear text" as if he's now against the fact that things can and will be interpreted by fans. In terms of Cas's declaration of love? Yes, that is "clear text." It's romantic in nature, that's not up for debate, and Dean processed and understood it as romantic on the dungeon floor. But for stuff that is still ambiguous, still subtextual in some ways, like Dean's own feelings? Those are still open to interpretation by all sides, whether we like it or not. Until we get to see more of Dean and Cas's story in the basically guaranteed reboot, Jensen is not going to speculate about Dean's feelings or Destiel's reunion. He's never going to word-of-god confirm anything about this on stage at a convention. We have to wait to see it play out on screen.

As an actor, it's also not his place to confirm or deny these things. He leaves it up to the fans to read into his performance whatever they want. And yes, that sentiment IS affirming to a Destiel interpretation. We can read reciprocation into his performance. We can read romantic love into his words about Dean wishing he'd said "I love you back." We can look back on the years of queercoding and subtext and Jacting Joices and read Dean as being in love with Cas for years. And, well, the other side can read what they want into it, and we don't need to care what they think, tbqh.

This, IMO, is also part of the reason Jensen tends to give "vague" answers or use language that can be perceived in different ways by either side. As an actor, at a fan convention where fans of all sides of the fandom have paid to be there to have a good time, it's not his job to personally validate specific headcanons and interpretations. Jensen may have his own personal beliefs about Dean's feelings, but he's not going to divulge them in full if they close off one side's interpretation. So he will weave his way through answers. He will use terms like "brother in arms" which one side will hear as simply "brother" and think "platonic" and Destiel shippers will hear as the full meaning, a strong bond between men, and see the queer history associated with these warrior bonds.

He does this, IMO, to keep all lanes open for every fan, because first and foremost he's an actor at a convention being paid to entertain. He's also not a writer, he's not someone who can definitively say what was intended. Personally, I feel that his metaphor about being in an art gallery that he gave back in 2020 is incredibly apt. People come to the gallery and look at the art and find their own meaning. And the artist isn't standing there beside them confirming or denying their interpretations. That's not the artist's job. Once it's out there, it's for others to find meaning in what the artist made.

And again, it's not his place to speculate or write fanfiction for anyone on stage and personally confirm or deny headcanons. He's pretty adamant about the reboot, so I think for some things we'll just have to wait and see.

#if the man says something is open to interpretation again one day i don't want to see ppl screaming and crying that he's 'walking back'#like no nope! all art is inherently open to interpretation. he's right abt that.#this fandom's personal baggage with that phrase doesn't make it less true #it's a neutral to positive phrase that affirms that fans get to find their own personal meaning in a story or work of art. that's it.#things that have been made textual and defined. such as cas's romantic declaration. those are not up for debate #but other aspects of canon are. whether you like it or not. and personally i love a thesis. i love analysis. so i have fun with it!#vic.txt #fandom vs media literacy #jensen and destiel #long post

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totothewolff · 2 days

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Season of Love (8/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

The Color of Truth is Blue Arc Chapter 8: Safety car needed

Trigger warning: Child trauma, abuse.

Belgium

And to think Toto felt guilty enough about hiding from you his decision to get back with Susie and try to make things work with her, giving himself the hardest time for it while you had been married this whole time!

The two of you are truly made for each other since none of you have morals.

He wants to grab the helmet on the clear glass coffee table inside his remote office before him and smash it against it, but he contains himself.

Instead, he stands up to pour himself a drink that's almost pure alcohol and just a bit of ice, frantically prancing around the room.

This GP is "hometown" for you guys.

Mathew's assistant has zero problems fitting it into his busy schedule, so he can assist in your name.

It's not that you do much for the team, anyway. You are more like a figure to lift the morale and PR the team and its sponsors around.

Mat looks excited to be at the paddock. He loves the attention he is getting. He remained as far from it as possible for obvious reasons, but now it seems like an excellent time to join in the fun.

Mainly because he feels like it, and when he likes something, he has it.

Now that the real boss is in town, people need to get used to his presence and his long list of shenanigans.

Get a grip!

The weekend at Spa starts with the now-usual FIA meeting. On this occasion, everyone is on time.

The group is gathered in the final rows of chairs in another world's saddest meeting room. As always, they are messing around while they wait for the meeting to begin.

—This carpeting looks out of a 70's Vegas casino —Seb mentions, looking around his feet.

—It's giving "cheap motel," —Charles adds.

—It's giving "crime scene" —Samanta joins in.

Toto and Fred enter the room, beverages in hand, gossiping.

Woaff! Lewis notices that Toto looks rough. His hair is messy, and big dark circles are under his eyes. Also, he seems reddish on the cheeks. Is he drinking at work?! Lewis recognizes that kind of blush on him.

—It's giving "once someone died in here" —Checo jokes as he pictures a silhouette drawn with chalk while staring at the floor.

—It's giving "I think I saw this place in Law & Order" —Millie says.

—How many hours of L&O have you seen? —Mick changes the topic, knowing Millie is a fan.

—More than needed —she admits.

—So you weren't joking when you said, "I go and put Law & Order on any device before a race as my race ritual"? —George looks at her, eyes widening and holding a giggle.

Sam interrupts as Millie is about to answer: —Elvis has arrived.

All their heads turn to the door as Matthew swags in.

—Armani ani ani ani —Millie sings Megan The Stallion style. —He looks so stylish in that suit! Hot!

—He is your boss, dude! —Oscar says and looks at her, chin up.

—And married to my wife! Who's also your boss. So more respect, please —Lando adds.

—Does that make you her father? —Sebastian jokes, pointing at the blonde.

—Are you Millie's dad?! —Lewis joins in, acting shocked.

—Dad?! —Millie turns in his chair to face Lando, wide eyes and arms reaching for a hug.

—You all stupid —Sam laughs, enjoying the exchange.

Mathew being the annoying ass he is, goes straight to her and drops in the chair next to Sam, placing his arm around her shoulders. —Amelia, hi! —Mat addresses her with a big-ass smile and stunning blue eyes staring at her.

—AMELIA?!! —everyone but Millie lets out in shock.

—How lovely to see you! —Sam greets him with a "fuck you!" gaze but answers with the sweetest voice.

—Yes, that's her middle name, you didn't know?! —Mat asks the group, pretending to be shocked, knowing she hates that name.

Then, the FIA deputy enters and asks Mathew to join him upfront since they are addressing the whole Lenkov situation and the new safety on paddock protocols with the drivers for the first time.

—Well, now that everything is clear, I will leave the microphone to Mr. De Vos to introduce himself...

—Yes, take off your shirt and tell us —Lando jokes in a low voice, next to Millie, discreetly bumping her and laughing low.

Those fuckers.

Everyone looks bored as Fred goes forever after grabbing the mic to discuss the car skidding due to fluids and oil spills on the pitlane.

—No, you guys. I like this topic! I identify with it since I'm also fluid —Millie adds, all confident and open.

—Genderfluid? —Seb smiles big at her, eyes sparkling at her gutsy statement.

—I love the gender fluids —Lando jokes, with a cheeky innuendo as usual.

—I wouldn't mind some gender fluids instead of this, mate —Dani adds.

—I would have the gender fluids, please! —Mick jokes, pretending to raise his hand.

—I'm feeling my gender-fluids right now —Millie colorfully adds while looking at Mathew.

—What fluids is he talking about?! —George asks, serious, not recalling watching spots or brushes on the pitlane, unable to hear Fred accurately and utterly unaware of the jokes around.

—The genders —Seb and Millie answer simultaneously before bursting out laughing, watching a perplexed George.

Everyone in the room turns their heads to them.

—Oh shit!

As soon as the doctors inform you that you can leave the hospital, your team moves you to the Manor, where Mathew insists you take a break and rest before putting a foot back on the paddock, much to your complaints.

He lets you know he will handle it while you are gone, and not enough "I'm fine!" on your part makes him change his mind.

Nothing good will come out of this with him there, you know that!

The press is desperate to get an interview out of Mathew, and the photographers already love him, a cloud of lens following him around.

With those looks, impeccable suit, and swag, who wouldn't want to snap his picture?

But his security has him covered.

A new and hot Sky Sports reporter approaches him, and he lets her slide in, with a microphone in hand and a cameraman following her.

Mathew gives her an exclusive interview, instantly switching to his most charming, funny, and sweet persona. He shines under the lens, showing his big, bright smile with gorgeous teeth.

Mat reaches the reporter's ear when the interview finishes and the cameraman lowers the lens. —Tower Suite 1898 The Post, 7:00 p.m., don't be late. I'm fucking you in dark lingerie and ankle-strap black high heels.

She nods, all blushing, knees shaking at his invitation.

Okay, Toto can't resist it anymore. He promised he wouldn't do it, but he can't. It's driving him nuts.

He opens his iPad and smashes the keywords on the Google search bar, typing "Mathew De Vos."

A ton of links and information show up.

"Cambridge Faculty of Law Board Member, Masters in Corporate Law, PhD. in Law, former ONU ambassador, former Interpol Associate"

Toto closes those taps after reading them and moves to the next more frivolous ones.

"#4 on World's Richest Men, #2 Billionaires Under 30, #2 GQ's Stylish CEOs"

In all his status, Mathew appears married, and in most of his interviews, he always mentions his wife, you, which hurts him.

Okay, but what does Matthew do right now? Why buying an F1 team? There's nothing linking him or you to the sport. Could it be just for a hobby?

"Current investor and CEO of Little Heroes Global: Safeguarding Minors Around the Globe."

Okay, there's still no connection. Maybe it was just a good business deal?

Toto keeps reading and then moves to trashier, gossipy sites.

Le Soir

Brussels, 2004.

Tragedy strikes De Vos family as helicopter crash kills parents, leaving 16-year-old son heir.

A devastating helicopter crash in the rolling hills of Belgium has claimed the lives of Victor and Lina De Vos, leaving their 16-year-old son, Mathew, the sole heir to their vast family fortune.

According to eyewitnesses, the De Vos family was on a routine flight from their estate in Wallonia to Brussels when the helicopter suddenly lost control and crashed in a nearby field. The accident occurred at approximately 10:45 a.m., with rescue teams arriving on the scene within minutes.

"It was a scene of utter devastation," said Alfred Van der Meer, a local farmer who witnessed the crash. "I saw the helicopter go down and then... grey clouds."

Victor De Vos, a wealthy businessman and billionaire, was 45 years old at the time of his death. His wife, Lina, was 42.

The couple was known for their philanthropic efforts and various charitable organizations throughout Belgium.

Mathew De Vos, 16 years old at the time of the accident, is now the heir to his father's business empire and the family's Manor. The exact value of the estate is unknown, but insiders close to the family suggest that it could be worth hundreds of millions.

"We are still trying to come to terms with this tragedy," said Michel Droveb, his godfather, a family friend, and business associate. "But we are all relieved that Mathew is safe and will be able to carry on his parents' legacy."

As news of the tragedy spread, tributes poured in from around the world. "The De Vos family was a shining example of generosity and kindness," said King Leopold II of Belgium. "Their loss is a great blow to our nation."

Funeral services are scheduled for next week at the St. Michael's Cathedral in Antwerp.

In the meantime, Mathew De Vos has been taken under the wing of his family's trusted advisors and is expected to continue his parents' business endeavors.

As he begins his journey as one of the world's youngest billionaires, Mathew De Vos has vowed to honor his parents' memory by using his wealth to make a positive impact on the world.

"We will continue to give back to our community and support those in need," he said in a statement. "My parents would want nothing less."

The exact cause of the crash is still under investigation.

Toto finishes reading the old entry on the news site, a bit pale and shocked. That may explain some of Mathew's attitude.

He locks his iPad after indulging himself too much and thinks it's enough. Toto has more important things to do.

As soon as you are allowed to leave the bed, you go visit Mat's mom since you miss her very much. You walk there barefoot, feeling the cold wood and stone floors of the Manor all the way to the next wing.

She is peacefully lying in bed. The massive room is full of bright natural light, and a fresh and stunning bouquet of her favorite flowers is placed on the nightstand next to her, filling the room with a delicious scent.

You want to tell her all about your new life and the people you have met, and as you share everything about Toto with her, you get emotional and overwhelmed.

So when Mathew arrives there after searching for you, he finds you crying while holding her limp hand.

He comes closer and sits at the border of his mother's ICU hospital bed, placing himself between it and the armchair where you are sitting at.

The room remains quiet, just the sounds of the life support pieces of equipment keeping his elderly mom alive, in a coma, but still.

He tenderly kisses her mother's temple before facing you, leaning his body in to wipe the tears sliding down your cheeks.

—Tell me what's hurting you to fix it? —compassion and care fill his eyes.

—This has no fix. Damage is done —you stare down at your hands before adding: —But going out to dinner can help me feel better.

He nods. —I know the place.

Sam joins you for breakfast at the Manor the following morning, where you tell her every detail about the plan, now being able to, and how it went.

—Then Pascal played one for the team again! —she says before grabbing a portion of her pancakes.

—I'm worried about him. I hope he is safe and well. —you express with deep concern, much to Mathew's dislike.

—Oh, he is. He let me know days ago —Mat says in the most nonchalant, neutral voice while picking his fruits.

—What?! Why didn't you tell me?! I've been worrying all these past days! —now you sound exasperated at him.

A "here we go!" face sets on Sam.

—You needed to rest! No further point! —Mat continues, still not caring, as if nothing was wrong.

—Stop telling me what I need! —you raise your voice at him, now you are mad!

He looks up and stares at you with an icy look but doesn't reply; he continues having breakfast as if nothing is happening.

One day, you will lose it with Mathew's controlling and psycho moves.

You regain your composure and add: —This can't keep happening! I need to know the things that involve me right at the moment!

—Understood —it's all he says.

—And what about Lenkov? Any whereabouts? —Sam says, pushing topics, used to witnessing you fight.

You text Seb to let him know you are at the Manor now.

—I'm glad! But where's that?! Do you own a manor? It doesn't sound much like your style! Ah, and thanks for answering back!

—Sorry for the delay in replies! I was resting. Shit! I forgot you don't know about it. Let me ask Mat if you can pop by. He is very particular about who is allowed here.

—No worries! I can ask him myself. I'm watching him right here.

Seb puts his phone inside his red tracksuit pocket, scooters down the pitlane to Mat beside Michael, and chats casually with the men in German before asking him the question.

—Wait, Seb!

Seb doesn't read your text. Seb takes Mathew entirely by surprise.

Mathew allows him to visit you, sensing Vettel is kind and has some guts to reach him.

When you return to the Manor, feeling tipsy after drinking a lot in that sports bar where you watched the race in secret.

Your heart sank every time Toto appeared on screen, looking as handsome as ever but without acting playful in front of the camera.

Sebastian is already in the old drawing room, waiting for you and chatting with Mat in a friendly way, which is rare. Damn, time flew by!

—And there she is! Hello, drunk! —Seb greets you as soon as you enter the room.

Mathew sends you a cold look, which you defiantly ignore.

—Bee guy! —you reach Seb and give him a warm hug. —Podium, heh!

—I know! Third place! Not that bad for this old man?! Tell Millie to leave me to win sometime, one win this season, pretty please! —Seb smiles big at you.

—No way, Jose! I'm sorry for making you wait with this one! —you point to Mat with your thumb.

—Alcohol produces brain damage, and you need cold water and food! I see you two at the dining table.

Mat exits the room, annoyed; he hates alcohol, cigars, drugs, sugar, and everything that's unhealthy for the body.

—Does he always swags all moody like that? —Seb asks, following him with his eyes, raising his eyebrows.

—Oh yeah —you let out a giggle.

You love Vettel.

—And those are your parents, right? —Seb asks, observing the massive regal oil painting of a family of three hanging on the wall by the exquisite wooden crafted stairs before sensing the atmosphere changing.

He got offered a tour of the Manor.

—Yes —Mat answers solemnly, you two standing near Seb while he leans to peek. All alcohol is out of your system by this point.

—Do the eyes follow you around as you walk past? —Vettel jokes in the most Sebastian way possible.

A smile forms on Mathew's lips. —It sometimes shakes too. You know when father disapprovals! —he pats Seb a bit too hard on the back.

—It's a bit too much, isn't it? —you join in. Shruging your nose, looking at the old painting.

—Yeah —both men agree, letting out in unison.

—You were such a cute kid. What happened?! —Seb teases Mat.

—Life, life happened to me —he answers, more honest than joking, oblivious to Seb, clear to you.

Why is Mat acting open and friendly with him?

—Ta-dah! This is my room! —you invite Seb to hang out in a more private space, taking him to the last spot of the tour.

Mathew had already left to the wing of the Manor that is his. He always hides in there; sometimes, you even forget he exists or that you were supposed to live with him.

—So this is where you grew up? —Seb is curious and naturally funny, so he is already playfully peeking into your drawers, looking at the Polaroids on the wall, and checking the decor. —Oh wow, baby Sam!

He points to a picture where "kid Sam" and a younger Alexi, Mat, and you appear.

—Yeah, that's about when I arrived here, and no, I didn't grow up here —you shake your head several times. —I wish!

Now, Seb is confused. Mat just told him you two lived together "since you were kids." —Then, where?

—Here, take a sit —you invite him to hang on the sofa in front of the big stony fireplace as it lights the huge room. The night is fully set, and the air in the countryside is cold. —Bare along...

This story is not a happy one.

You will never forget that big old mansion in the woods where you grew up. Your oldest memories start there at age four.

You had no idea who your mom was; you had never met her, only your nanny, who cared for you and your baby sister, a cute five-month-old girl, a chubby, healthy baby with pink cheeks.

You loved holding her; she always wrapped her fingers around your thumb and tried to get your long, shiny hair into her mouth, which made you giggle.

You let her play with your teddy bear; she is the only one allowed to grab "bon-bon."

You love wrapping big bowties around its plushie neck, and your papa occasionally gifts you colorful and shiny ribbons.

Every day, you take lessons with a rigorous and cruel governess who teaches you manners and scolds you when you do things wrong, calling you an animal and a brute whenever she loses her patience with you.

You don't like how she treats you, but you don't notice anything wrong with it. It feels ordinary to you.

The following day, your nanny wakes you up early and tells you they have important guests coming over, and you must look pretty to welcome them.

She combs your hair roughly and, in a rush, pulls it into a tight bun as instructed while you are on your feet on top of the makeup chair.

She puts you into a puffy chiffon dress and starts applying you makeup, which you love. You like all those things: hairstyles, dresses, makeup, nails, glitter, and sparks.

When you see yourself in the mirror, you look like a doll that belongs on a shelf as you stick your tongue out and make silly faces at your reflection.

She then takes you downstairs to your favorite room of the large house. The playroom is colorful and has many toys to play with; it's a shame you always play alone.

You go inside and grab a couple of plushies and a plastic tea set when you notice several stern and tall men watching you.

You feel a little bit shy under their stares; among them is a man who looks intensely at you.

He is a tall, silver-haired, muscular man with captivating eyes and a dangerous smirk that could charm the devil himself.

Standing next to him are gunmen and two large menacing dogs guarding him.

Another group of gentlemen join him before they all enter your dad's office, a forbidden ground for you.

After a while, everyone exits the house's entrance door and leaves, but the silver-haired man stays longer.

You have seen him before; he is your daddy's boss.

Sometimes, they have meetings, and whenever he is at the house, they get you all cute-looking and rushed downstairs.

He always asks for you and handles you expensive gifts every visit.

You get distracted by him bringing you cake; all you want is a slice. The merengue looks delicious and smells like vanilla.

Your dad and the man come closer to you. He greets you brusquely, caressing your cheek.

Now that you are near him, you look terrified at the two scary Dobermans monitoring your every move.

—They don't bite unless I command them to —He looks at the muscular animals. —So be a nice girl —he jokes with you.

You reach closer to your dad's leg, trying to hide behind it, but he neither pats nor reassures you.

—Status on her training? —the silver-haired man asks.

—She is about to start it, sir.

—When it gets done, send her to me —he instructs with an authoritarian voice but nonchalant.

He brushes his hand on your hair before he heads out of the big, beautiful wooden entrance door.

As the days go by, you start to spend more and more time studying with your governess.

That cruel woman seems to be under such stress of quickly teaching you many things, so she behaves even more viciously.

Your German, French, and English lessons feel too much for your little brain. No six-year-old should feel this pressure on herself; all you want to do is play.

You get moody and start to cry, not being able to take it more; you are tired!

Suddenly, you feel a painful sting on your cheek; your dad slapped you hard for whining. —Stop crying, behave! —He commands you.

And you do so.

You are in the staff's kitchen, sitting on a high barstool, legs swinging in the air, while the cook prepares the meal.

You ask her to make you a sandwich, but she tells you you are no longer allowed bread or carbs.

That kitchen leads outdoors to the massive gardens by a backdoor; it's a vast property.

Another prominent building sits right across the field, in the distance, behind some bushes and trees.

You are not allowed out, and you are not allowed to go near there.

But you are a curious and strong-willed girl, after all.

You peek through the window and see two little boys and girls walking from room to room inside the other property. You want to go and play with them, as you are always among grown-ups.

The cook follows your gaze and rushes you out of the kitchen and back to the living area.

It's late at night, and you wake up to the sound of your stomach growling.

The house is so quiet, as everyone is sleeping, and it's the perfect moment for you to sneak to get ice cream.

You risk going to the kitchen after your curfew because you feel hungry from the small portions they have given you lately.

For some reason, they have been measuring and weighing you daily.

You navigate the large house's hallways, avoiding making a sound. Your steps softly creak on the wooden floors unnoticed, which is why you are barefoot, which is also not allowed.

You finally make it to the kitchen and, on your tiptoes, take the big bucket of ice cream out of the freezer and to the countertop.

You are short for your age, which makes you look younger and even more adorable. You are such a cute, tiny girl.

You hop on the stool and eat the chocolate ice cream straight from the bucket with a big spoon, licking it; chocolate goes all over your collar and lips.

If the governess saw you doing this, she would lock you in the closet. She had done it before and made you spend an entire night there for disobedience.

You cried hard for your dad. That place was cold and dark, but he never showed up.

You catch movement with the corners of your eyes outside the large window into the garden's bushes, the same window from which you peeked out earlier.

A small shadow moves quickly, and you get a bit scared, but curiosity makes you reach closer to the window's glass, your nose almost touching it. It feels cold, it must be freezing outside.

You catch a small girl hiding in the bushes and dropping to the dirt quickly as she notices you.

The door to the outside is just steps away. What if you go help her? She looks distressed and must be cold!

You know you are not allowed to, yet you go.

You expect the door to be locked, but you open it easily.

You hear a soft beep as you set foot outside on the deck. Then the alarm goes off, and the motion detection lights turn on; they are so strong they blind you.

You watch the little girl run to the forest as fast as she can. You try to go after her when you feel a firm grip pulling you from the hair and throwing you back into the kitchen.

You hit the floor hard, sliding in.

You see a pair of black combat boots about to kick you in the stomach when your dad's voice screams very loud.

—Don't get her scratch! She's valuable! —the man immediately stops mid-kick with a yes, sir.

You watch the other guards drag violently the little girl back inside the other building.

You barely hear her indistinct screams in the distance. As you lose sight of her, you think she is begging for her mother, and then the door gets violently slammed close in front of you and locked down this time.

You don't understand what is happening but remember feeling freaked out that day.

You then recall how scared you used to feel every single day back in those times.

They leave you for two days inside that dark closet with no food and no water as punishment.

The following month, the governess tells you she has finished her job with you but informs you that your training is set to start.

You don't get what she means by "training."

Then, she leaves the study room and returns with a boy about two years older than you.

You quickly get happy to see someone close to your age and not another adult. You have been raised among them.

The boy looks rigid and lost in the eye as he approaches you.

When he is standing before you, he pulls you closer and kisses you on the mouth. You giggle at the sensation. It feels funny!

But you see nothing wrong with this, you like the contact since you have never been held like that.

These lessons last for several weeks. They get weirder and more touch-y each time.

When winter arrives, it starts to snow outside. You are cozy sleeping in bed, hugging your teddy plushie under your warm blanket.

The fireplace creeks and heats the room when you hear heavy footsteps outside your bedroom door before it opens.

A big, bulky guy picks you up from the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, waking you up. He carries you down the hallway, heading with you down the stairs.

There, you see your dad, for the last time, on your way to the SUV with tinted black windows parked right outside the front door.

It turns out that man wasn't your father, nor was this your actual home.

You remember feeling increasingly nervous as the car gets further away from the property. All you think about is Bon-bon and the baby.

You cry.

You are sent to the Serbian ring, where your price is high for obvious reasons. You overhear the man who takes you there sound delighted at how high your bid went.

You don't understand a thing.

Two days later, they fly you to a high-end hotel bungalow in Bali, where an older man expects you.

They make him read some papers with terms and things he is suggested not to do to you since this type of man doesn't like the phrase "not allowed to," and he agrees.

The chaperone then closes the room door behind you, leaving you alone with him.

You don't know what to do next, so you watch him remove his tie and shoes as he points you to the bed.

As an obedient and collected girl, you get in there.

This man paid in advance for an entire year of your services and exclusivity, which is an enormous amount of money.

They make you meet with him always in different countries and locations until he gets bored of your body and moves to the next younger new girl.

After that, they return you to the market, and you visit the ring again, this time in Turkey.

You were supposed to live in several security houses when you weren't traveling around the globe to meet your owners, which never happened to you.

They rotate them constantly, and cameras and microphones are everywhere, so the other girls and boys cannot interact.

It doesn't matter much anyway.

With time, you learn that the more money you make them, the better things go for you.

Soon, you discover you are one of the privileged ones since Lenkov, the silver-haired man from childhood, is infatuated with you and asks for you whenever he wants you.

He is a scum.

—If you weren't so good for my business, I do have you living here with me full time like one of my dolls —the fit older man tells you while inhaling coke from the tits of a busty teenager.

While another underage girl like you sits in his lap wearing a tiny bikini, five of them are in there fighting for his attention and petting him all around at his open-floor mansion by the sea in Punta Cana, where he currently lives. You are the youngest one in there.

Lenkov has many places and doesn't stay in one longer, and the girls he likes for his sick enjoyment only get to follow him all around.

It's a better type of prison to be at; you get to learn, and it's way better than getting bid off in the rings.

At least with him, you know what to expect.

Lenkov hosts one of his infamous parties as a goodbye to Punta Cana, which is full of powerful and corrupt guests.

Drugs, alcohol, and a bunch of underage girls and boys are there at their disposition and for everyone's enjoyment, all if they pay, of course!

Bricks of money and bags full of rolls are on several surfaces.

After your previous owner passed away in a very sketchy way, you are pretty sure he got himself poisoned.

Lenkov ordered that they broght you so he can enjoy your body during the weekend and for your attendance at the party since a couple of Arab princes and some Serbian moguls will be there, and he wants you to work your way with them.

A very stoic, tall, and older man in an expensive suit sits, legs crossed, in the expensive armchair next to Lenkov.

He looks you up from afar, his eyes traveling every inch of your skin.

You know how to read a room by this point in your life. So you get closer and slowly twirl for him.

—She —he turns to tell the silver-haired man, looking at you, and Lenkov nods, allowing it.

There he was, your new owner.

God, you hated that word. You weren't a thing to be own; you were a person, even if they didn't treat you like one.

When your chaperone opens the door to a massive suite in Dubai, you are surprised to be greeted by a tall, gorgeous, muscular man with piercing blue eyes, dark, wavy hair, and great skin.

He is big and athletic. You would find him extremely attractive if he wasn't this sick person.

After being with many 50-plus-year-olds, a 33-year-old feels young enough for you. Even if he is not, you are only 14 by this point.

Well, you have been told you are.

Since you don't own a passport or credentials, you don't know exactly who you are, how old you are, where you come from, or anything about yourself.

He agrees to the terms presented to him, and then, as usual, you are left alone with him.

Either they go all over you immediately, asking you to take your clothes off in an instant or foreplay a bit before demanding you to go straight to the bed.

But none of the listed happens this time.

He returns to his laptop, where he seems busy working. Of course, he didn't forget about you. He was totally ignoring you.

It's always tricky with these guys! They are often arrogant, violent, controlling, or power-obsessed and challenging to read or act around.

But, unfortunately for you, you have enough experience dealing with all those types.

So you take off your dress, revealing your tiniest lingerie, and against your will, as usual, approach him, showing off your body.

You get into his lap, placing yourself on his crotch.

You don't want problems, and you know what happens to girls who get a "bad review" to say it like that.

He stops reading what's on his screen, getting distracted by you, then turns to grab his jacket and offers it to you. —No need for any of that —he tells you.

And you put his coat on.

It looks so big on you, covering your whole body. You move to sit on the sofa near him.

Dead silence.

He couldn't care less about you.

—Sir, I'm all okay? Is there a way I can pleasure you? If I'm doing something wrong, please let me make it up to you —you freak out as you notice the time of your session is running out; you don't want trouble.

—I didn't hire you —he says, still typing and looking busy. That takes you off guard. He looks straight at you with those fierce blue eyes, frowning.

—Pardon?

—My sick father gave you to me as a "forgive me" present —he lets out with disdain. —I don't get how he is okay with this stuff. I'm not too fond of paid girls or STDS. I'm not into the young ones.

—I'm very clean, I get tested all the ti-

—So, how does this shit work? —he interrupts you, not caring about what you are saying. —I read on paper that a titanium package was paid. Even the name sounds absurd!

You look at him collected, avoiding saying a dumb thing, being extremely careful with each word.

—It means I'm exclusive to your enjoyment, and you have me ten sessions before acquiring the package again if I please you, that I promise I-

—I see —he again interrupts your rehearsed speech.

You hear soft knocks in code on the door. It means Fran, your chaperone, of course you know that isn't his real name, is waiting for you.

You get your dress back on, and he walks you to the door.

Before reaching it, he suddenly pushes you into a rough and intense kiss, messing your hair and fucking your lipstick, biting open your lip, and, in a powerful movement, tearing your dress a little bit, taking you by surprise.

Fran opens the door at your lack of response and quickly apologizes, witnessing some of the action. —I didn't mean to interrupt, sir.

—No worries, I'm done with her —he says deadpan, pushing you out with a big slap in the ass.

This goes on for the subsequent sessions.

He doesn't touch you more than what is required to pretend you two did the thing. He is clever at keeping appearances.

—So, as long as I have you under my power, I can take my time to have our "sessions," right?

—Yes, sir, but not that much.

—Good, that gains us little time.

He asks you one night while looking out of the panoramic windows, sipping his coñac.

Damn, he is muscular and hot.

—Feel free to use the suite amenities. You are not allowed out of the room, correct?

—Oh no, I'm not —you confirm quickly, not wanting to get in serious trouble. Guards parol you, so there's no way you could get out even if you tried.

He renews his package with you without touching or disrespecting you in any way.

Every time you meet him, you expect him to ask you to return the favor. Your life experiences have made you wary and distrustful.

But he doesn't.

—Yes?! —he looks your way. You have been staring at him for five minutes. He is not the most tender-speaking person.

—I'm sorry, I wasn't, I-

—It's alright, you can talk.

—No worries, you seem busy.

—Go straight to the point or remain shut up —he dislikes wasting time.

—Why are you doing this? —you venture to ask. —I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I'm more than thankful to you, sir.

—Don't call me sir; it makes me feel dirty —he drops himself on the sofa beside you, giving himself time off from work, stretching. —I get what you are going through. I'm in a prison of my own, too.

You remain quiet a little bit, pensive to open your mouth, knowing you can trust no bitch, but this feels different. So you trust your gut. —What do you mean?

—My father got my family, me included... —he stands to pour himself another glass of coñac and offers you one. You aren't allowed to drink unless they offer you, so you accept it. —...dragged into his illicit business, sadly, we have no way out now.

—I think I met him once from afar. No disrespect, but he seems harsh.

—You can disrespect him all you want. I hate my father; he is a scumbag, he got my brother locked up and murdered in jail, and my mother is also dead, thanks to him. So now it's just us.

Silence.

—Are you in any danger? —you ask, honestly concerned.

—Worried about your situation?

—No si- shit! —you quickly correct yourself. —Sorry, what do I call you?

—Pascal, that's my real name, by the way. As you can see, I don't care much, and yes! I'm always in danger, not imminent, but still, it's a dangerous game I'm playing.

—You are kind to me, that's why I asked. I don't know my real name, so I have no name you can call me.

—I can think of a couple of ones —he makes an innuendo, and by your shocked expression, he quickly adds. —I'm joking! I'm kidding!

You laugh for the first time in God knows how long.

Knocks come on the door.

That goes on until Lenkov becomes possessive of you and warns him that this is the last time Pascal is allowed to acquire your package, and he won't steal you away from him.

—I'm not planning to do so, Lenkov, it's just that pussy is so good, and I don't know how to quit it —he lies.

Lenkov smiles at him with an "I get it" expression before asking him for an obscene amount of money.

Pascal agrees to it, but only if he is allowed to have you for more time, for an entire year.

—A million, and it's a deal.

—But if she stays with me in London...

—She will be not allowed out of the apartment, I will place snipers, and if you try to trick me, I will slight her throat in front of you and then yours. A million and a half, and it's done.

Pascal pays for it.

He welcomes you to your new home with a glass of champagne.

—To the birthday girl.

—What?!

—Today is your birthday. According to your birth certificate, here, it's your gift.

—Is this real?! —tears fill your eyes. He nods, and then Pascal looks taken aback when you give him the warmest hug he has ever received.

He doesn't know what to do until he relaxes and hugs you back.

—I could sleep with you right now! —you say, and you quickly add by the shocked expression he gives you. —I'm joking! I'm kidding. Ah! I'm one year older than I thought! But how did you get this?!

—I have something to confess to you, and it's the reason why I moved you here with me —he sounds serious and looks stern; he hesitates before continuing.

You start thinking about the worst possible outcome. Here comes the part that goes bad for you.

—A few months ago, I made contact with Interpol.

—Oh, please, I'm, look, I, I rather not —you mumble and start to panic, fearing for your life.

—I see. I may die after this —Pascal lets out.

—You what?! —you panic.

—It doesn't matter. Yeah, it's better you stay out of it.

—If it threatens your life, then I'm in! —you sound so assured that he looks shocked.

—Why would you...? —he starts asking.

You jump in. —Risk my life for yours? Anyday! You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me —Pascal looks at you with an expression you cannot read.

—This guy I got in contact with has been pursuing Lenkov for some time and plotting his downfall.

—This guy?! Wasn't the Interpol?!

—Well, yes, he used to work for them...

—Oh god, how are you sure he is not setting you up and wh- —you panic again.

He calms you down and quickly explains. —He is the most annoying guy ever, but it's legit. He started his own organization and has the best of the best working for him, and that's why he moved the Lenkov case with him and left Interpol to work it on his own; it's personal to him.

—Have you met with him?

—Just on the phone, many, many times.

—I don't like this.

—I promise you he is legit and has resources. He was the one who got me your birth certificate. All he is asking from us in return is to act as a witness in case all goes well and we get Lenkov on trial.

—And what's in this for you? I'm sorry for judging you, but my life has taught me some lessons. You aren't in this just because you want my freedom, right?

—To whistleblow my father and expose his business with Lenkov, and make them both rot in prison.

—You are going to get us murdered!

Pascal starts worrying about you bailing out, judging your fear and panic.

He is getting ready to start working you out when you suddenly calm down.

—But what do I have to lose? This is no life, and if I can help to protect you, other girls, and boys and gain my freedom along the way, I will.

Lenkov sends people to check on you two occasionally without previous notice, trying to catch in any weird move and have an excuse to move you back with him.

It comes to his attention that according to the people he sends there, they never seem to interrupt you in sexual activities, enraging him.

You are cozy on the couch watching TV when Pascal's deep voice grabs your attention.

—Listen, whenever someone from my "dad's business," aka my job, comes here, or we aren't alone, no matter if it's the help service, I need you to play along and pretend we are in a sexual relationship. We need to keep appearances and have the word spread.

—Why? —you start feeling concerned. —Did something happen?

—Don't stress about it —he dismisses it. —Just so you know.

—Y/N, you are right. You are not being paranoid —you have been feeling observed by people looking from the building across for some days now. —Probably Lenkov moved some people to one of the apartments in front. They are watching us now.

Pascal pretends to enjoy a drink while looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows to the skyscraper in front of yours.

—Moving out is no option for us —you add, feeling nauseous. Months have passed since you started living peacefully with Pascal at this place you now call home.

—We need to engage more, then —he sounds grim.

—If we close the curtains but keep the lights on, maybe we could dry hump for them. Silhouettes may work.

—Have the men you have been with ever cared enough to close the curtains?

—No. I get it. It's going to look staged. They won't go away till they make sure.

He lets an exasperated sigh and smashes his glass on the floor.

You instinctively jump. —Listen, I have done it before, we could... —you go all red.

—No.

After several days of noticing him consumed by the situation's stress, you cross the distance between you and gift him your first kiss.

Obviously, it's not your first physical kiss, but the first one that feels real.

You kiss him all the way to the bedroom.

Where Pascal makes love to you in a missionary position, all flesh in full display and bodies moving in rhythm for them to witness.

After you cowgirl him, he takes you in doggy style till you cum from pleasure for the first time ever while moaning his name.

You completely forget that you were doing it for the men watching you at a distance, secretly shooting photos without you noticing before they have them printed and delivered to Lenkov.

There is a slight shift after that night.

The interactions between you two become more tender; there are more accidental touches and sweet looks, along with some cuddling, but nothing sexual ever happens again after the Lenkov people leave you alone.

Not even a kiss.

Three months later, as you grow impatient every day since you know your year agreement is near its end, Pascal informs you that this guy wants to implement the plan.

Next week, a massive raid on the Lenkov rabbit holes, properties, and security homes will occur. People are going to get arrested and youngsters rescued. You are on the list.

The difference with you is that you will immediately be moved to Belgium to the Little Heroes Global headquarters to testify and for them to prepare you for court.

It's a Wednesday morning, the first time you talk to this guy on the phone.

He sounds young, but his tone is too solemn. He informs you that Pascal was the critical piece he needed to deploy his long, elaborate plan; he and his team have spent years trying to get Lenkov.

Now that you have all the knowledge and information he needs to take him down, it is all good to go.

It's the first of many calls you two exchange, and you eventually become incredibly familiar with his voice.

The day that "Operation Lina" arrives, you are so nervous.

Everything is going according to the plan.

But then, as a lot of commotion happens outside your apartment door, Pascal bolts to his feet and places you behind his body, protecting you.

A SWAT team bursts in, knocking the door down. Pascal looks at you, confused at the violence, but you see him smile for the first time in all the time you have met him.

—That's the sound of your freedom —he addresses you, briefly resting his temple on yours. You want so desperately to kiss his lips.

Then the SWAT team moves quick on their feet, guns up to approach you, or that you think so.

Unexpectedly, they pinned Pascal in a violent move against the floor. He hits his head hard in the process.

—What are you doing!? —you start screaming and kicking as they push you out of the way. You go insane as they keep dragging him away from you. —LEAVE HIM YOU FUCKERS! You are hurting him! This wasn't part of the plan!

They yank him down the apartment entrance hallway, and you fight your way to follow along, demanding to know where they are taking him, screaming and kicking.

—PASCAL! —You are desperately calling for him at the top of your lungs.

When you feel a hand softly rub you on your shoulder, you turn around, expecting the worst, to see Lenkov standing there, so you violently remove the hand from you and, with all your force, push the guy against the hallway wall.

—Easy! Easy! —that familiar voice tells you. —He is going to be okay, I will make sure —a kid slightly older than you is standing before you, his beautiful blue eyes are set on you.

—Are you!? —you let out in barely a whisper. You can't believe your eyes; he can't be that young!

—Yes —he starts fixing himself. —You are strong. Mathew De Vos —he offers you his hand.

—Why the fuck are you betraying him like that?! —you start immediately fighting with him, which, funny enough, becomes a habit for you two.

—I'm not! Listen, in one of the raids inside of one of Lenkov's drawers at his office desk, there were photos of you and Pascal, you know, explicitly engaging in some illegal acts.

—But that's not! He didn't ra-! I consent to it, AND it was just because Lenvok people were watching us ove-

—I believe you. I'm not happy to lose one of my biggest witnesses, but it's still a crime. Due to cooperation, we can offer him a good deal, so Pascal will be alright, I promise you.

—How do I know I can trust you?!

—I'm here, as I promised I will. Let's go. The quicker we get this done, the faster you will win back your freedom!

Days later, Mat informs you he moved his influences to get a particular trial for Pascal and that he ended up with just domestic arrest in Budapest, ankle monitor and all.

But that you won't be able to see him, probably ever again. You are only allowed to talk to him on the phone.

Lenkov corrupts his way out of the situation. To both your fury, you have never seen a man so furious as Mathew that day; you almost felt like running away from him as soon as possible, but this unexpected outcome forces you into a witness protection program.

Mathew offers you a place to stay until things get sorted out, a stay that will last for years to come.

—The obvious aside, duh, why did Mathew want to take Lenkov down? —Seb asks, his voice husky.

It's cold and late at night, around 5 a.m., and by this point of the story, you are already wrapped around Seb's arms, sharing the soft blanket on the couch as he plays nervously with your golden bracelet.

Seb has remained empathic and supportive, listening to your life story.

—Mat got scarred by that same man. Victor, Mat's father, was just solidifying "Heroes Global" after building it to protect minors, legally advise victims and their families, and help intelligence agencies dismantle traffic rings when he was the first person to discover the real business behind Lenkov's legal facades—you explain. Seb's eyebrows go to the roof, and his eyes look sad.

—As Mat was dealing with becoming an orphan, his team found out the helicopter crash that killed his parents, well, his dad mostly, wasn't an accident. Mathew's mom has been in a coma for years with no hope of recovering, but she is still with us, thank God.

—Are you a believer?

—Yes. God sent Mat to me. He means the world to me, Seb. He really does, even with all that implies. It's the only family I have. Even in our worst moments, I have never not loved him. He gave me a chance and a better life than I had ever imagined.

—It's good to know —Mat's voice takes you both by surprise, making you un-cuddle and turn to him. He walks inside the room before standing before you, hands inside his soft pajama bottoms, shirtless.

—Where did those abs come from, ancient Greece? —Seb can't help but peek as he jokes. He looks good.

As soon as I found out Lenkov did it and what he really was, I took the basis of Heroes Global and founded Little Heroes Global, working with Interpol. Did you know, Sebastian Vettel, that this girl right here is the foundation's vice president? he asks in the voice of a quiz host while pointing at you.

—I begged Mat to let me stay and work with them as soon as I was freed, I wanted to help others, but I was an illegal here in Belgium, with no papers and in need of a citizen permit and a passport.

—Also under age —Matt adds. So, I wasn't able to marry her to fix all of that thing at once, but as soon as we could, we did, I stayed true to my word of taking care of her.

—It wasn't a romantic or traditional wedding —you explain.

—Just transactional, sign here, sign this, sign there —Mat adds.

—Do you ever?

—Yes —you both answer at the same time.

Dead silence.

—But you two need to go to bed, to sleep, I mean. On another occasion, Y/N may tell you all about us; I prefer my version, though. Feel free to stay over Vettel. Just respect my roof —he winks before leaving, implying to be discreet with sex if there is to be.

Sebastian goes all red. To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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