#everyone say thank you lady gaga

[izu]

he ate my heart and then he ate my braaaain

[leafmutual]

I still haven't forgiven the world for calling artpop a flop I would ride and die for that album and era

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Build-a-Yandere

Yandere Android x GN Reader

You were lonely. A fact that you eventually came to terms with when you realized you’re the only one in your friend group that still remained single while they started families.

You felt so far behind everyone else. The self doubt crept its fingers into your mind and wouldn’t let go… so you did what you did best. You drowned yourself in the internet. The perfect digital escape from reality…

Dating apps did little to appease your loneliness, but they filled a bit of the void. It wasn’t until you were one wine bottle deep and scrolling through your favorite social media app that you stumbled upon an advertisement to sample a product.

Build-a-boyfriend. A company that allowed its customers to pick every single aspect out for their ideal man. From personality to physical appearance and even to penis size. You could build your own man!

A slurred chuckle escaped your lips. Should you apply to test out their product? It’s not like you had anything to lose… what could be the harm in giving it a shot?

And so you began to fill out the quiz. You wanted a soft and gentle boyfriend. One of those golden retriever boys who only had eyes for you. The kind of guy who had a muscular yet soft build. A man who worked out but would never say no to a cookie. A taller guy who always knew what to say and was cuddly. The kind of guy who was obsessed with you.

The quiz even asked you at the end if you were sure you wanted an obsessive man. Of course you were! Wasn’t that what most people wanted? A partner who was only and all about them? That’s what obsession was! Right?

And so your drunk self finished this entire personality quiz until it went to the physical appearance and the sexual bit. A perverted smile now on your face.

“Let’s give him a big penis.” You laughed as you guided your cursor to drag the length bar to eight inches long. “I want to be filled.”

And then you selected caramel skin tone, cinnamon eyes, and black hair. A smile on your face. You were going to make this android a Latin lover.

“What should I name him…” you thought for a moment before laughing. “Alejandro! Like the lady Gaga song.”

Once you completed the entire quiz, your phone screen lit up a pastel pink. A red heart now in the center of the screen. “Your boyfriend will be delivered to you in a month! Thanks for choosing Build-a-boyfriend!”

And you ended up falling asleep in a puddle of your own drool. Weren’t you just pathetic? Filling out a quick from some questionable website all because you were lonely… imagine you were just scammed? God, why did you not have a boyfriend? Ever since your ex broke up with you, you fell apart. Why weren’t you good enough for a real man?

A month went by in a flash and you were shocked to see the giant package on your doorstep. An envelope attached to the box as well as a large note that said, “No returns!”

This had to be some kind of prank… there was no way this was real- holy shit.

You opened the crate and came face to face with your ideal man… the one you built! Alejandro!

The human like android’s eyes fluttered open, his face quickly lit up once he spotted you. “(Your name)? Are you my girlfriend?!”

You were quickly scooped up into his surprisingly warm arms, the android had a heavy scent of spice and oranges. His nose buried into your neck as he pressed kisses all over your cheeks. “It’s so nice to finally be with you… I’ll be with you from now on!”

Alejandro was a chipper robot. He did household work and made sure you took care of yourself. It was fascinating how human he was… you only knew he wasn’t because of his lack of a beating heart. His body still produced heat, like a furnace, but it wasn’t as comforting as a human presence.

Alejandro assimilated into your life with ease. The weeks quickly rolled into months and he never let you ignore his presence. He was very clingy.

Now the sex was another story. Alejandro was so giving, it was surprising. He often went down on you when he sensed you were stressed. His tongue greedily lapped at your hole as you laid in your bed while his hands held your cheeks apart. His hand pawed at your sex in eagerness. “I want you… want you.”

And Alejandro had you bent over the side of your bed, his fat cock stuffed deep in your tight hole. His hand wrapped around your throat and his tongue shoved in between your lips while his other smacked your bottom between rough thrusts. The sex was amazing… it was always so good.

And Alejandro often checked on you after the deed was done. His warm body curled into yours as he praised you. Yet it began to fill you with disappointment. Alejandro wasn’t a real man. He wasn’t human… he was an android. A robot. Alejandro didn’t know what love was, he was programmed to love you.

So you tried to distance yourself from Alejandro. You felt sickened with yourself for messing around with an android instead of a real man. And this entire thought process stemmed from your friends who expressed disgust in people who fucked robots instead of actual humans. And that filled you with fear. Would they abandon you if you didn’t get rid of Alejandro? Would they think you were disgusting?

“If you want, I could set you up with my cousin!” One of your friends smiled at you as you bit your fingernails. “He’s also single so it should work! I’ll swing by in a week to give you the details!”

Yes. You would take them up on their offer. You just had to get rid of Alejandro first… but how?

A few days had went by and you greatly underestimated Alejandro’s obsession. The android couldn’t handle your avoidance. He began to turn up his affection to the max.

He cleaned until you could see your reflection on the floor. He began to go out of the house to pick you wild flowers. Alejandro even began to be more physically affectionate than he was.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.” Alejandro cried into your arms as he held you. “Please tell me what’s wrong… please. I can fix it.”

“Alejandro… it’s just that you’re not a human man.” You sighed softly. “And I-“

“Is it because I don’t have a heart?” Alejandro softly asked you, his cinnamon eyes now dark like the night sky. “I can’t produce semen? Am I not a comfortable temperature? Or does my skin not feel human enough?”

“I’m sorry-“

“Then I can fix it! I will fix it!” Alejandro held your hands firmly in his. His eyes filled with determination. “I’m your boyfriend! I will be anything you want me to be!”

You just held the android who pulled you into a tight hug. His nose buried into your chest like a lost child. Alejandro then smiled into your skin. He would fix this… he wouldn’t let you abandon him! You made him! You had to take responsibility…

Imagine your horror to come home to see your friend skinned alive as Alejandro held their heart in his hands, the organ still beating from the fresh kill. A big smile on his handsome face.

“I have a heart now! I’ll find all the parts you like and add them in! So please don’t abandon me!”

Just what kind of monster have you created?

“You don’t need some human man to be your match because you have me!” Tears fell down your face when Alejandro tried to wipe your tears away with his bloody hands. “I’m your perfect man, (your name). You made me this way.”

[bratzforchris]

could you do one where chris and reader bring their daughter home from the hospital after she's just born? i love your writings!!!!

My Girl, C. Sturniolo

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Summary: In which bringing your and Chris's first baby home from the hospital results in a core memory<3

Pairing: Chris x feminine reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of a difficult labor and its effects (not graphic!), young parents

Word Count: 974

A/N: Y'all my baby fever has been so bad lately (I'm 19 and single 🤡) and dad!Chris did NOT help. Thank you for the request and you cuties enjoy a fluffy Chris fic<33

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Chris gently lifted the enormous, pink carseat out of the back of the car, hoisting it onto his arm. He was beyond exhausted from the past three days. Granted, all he had ever wanted in life was to be a father, especially when you would be the mother. And so, he picked up the car seat with renewed energy, coming around the side of the car and opening up your door. 

“You good, ma?” he asked you, protective instincts kicking in as he watched you struggle to unbuckle your seat and step out of the car. 

“I just had a baby, dumbass. My hips are killing me and I’m wearing a diaper. What do you think the answer is?”

Between a long labor, the hustle and bustle of the hospital, and the typical aches and pains that came post-birth, you were a bit snappy after the events of the past three days. Nevertheless though, you planted a kiss on Chris’s cheek, eliciting a grin from your husband. 

“Glad to see the pregnancy didn’t take that fiery attitude I love so much.” Chris smiled, wrapping his arm around you to support you as you slowly walked with one hand and carrying the carseat that held your sleeping daughter in the other. 

 You two slowly began the trek up your front steps, with Chris supporting you the whole way. But before you could open the front door, it was flung open for you, revealing Nick and Matt. They stepped out quickly, eager to get a glimpse of their new niece. They exchanged squeals over how cute your baby girl was until Chris finally shoved them off, protective over his little family. 

“Can we get inside first?” he asked, rolling his eyes then smiling at you affectionately. 

The brothers allowed you to step inside the house, where both your and Chris’s parents were waiting, slightly more polite than his brothers. You quickly sat down on the couch with the help of your husband, winded from the short walk up the driveway. Chris quickly placed your daughter in your arms and sat beside you with a proud smile as everyone else gathered around on your large couch and on the rug. 

“So, have you two decided on a name?” Your mother asked excitedly, her eyes shining with joy. 

“We have,” You and Chris looked at each other and smiled as your daughter yawned in your arms, smacking her little lips. “Charlotte Marie Sturniolo.” You said in unison. 

Just as you spoke, Charlotte opened her eyes and yawned, letting out a tiny coo. Luckily, your families had been very respectful of your and Chris’s boundaries about holding her, especially since flu season was currently rampant. That didn’t deter anyone from letting out noises of affection at their new daughter, niece, and granddaughter, though. In your comical families, however, cute moments didn’t last long, which led to Nick piping up. 

“Can you say Lady Gaga?” he asked. “La-dy Ga-ga.”

Chris rolled his eyes, playfully kicking his brother, which received a giggle from you. “She’s a newborn.”

“I’m raising her to have culture.” Nick shrugged, flipping his hair across his forehead. 

As everyone continued to talk, your husband noted how you (and Charlotte) had become more quiet, snuggling into his side. He knew the whole birthing process had been extremely difficult on you, and selfishly, he really wanted some alone time with his little family. 

“Should we go upstairs?” he asked you, whispering in your ear and brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. 

You nodded softly, already on the verge of falling asleep as you felt your infant daughter snuggle into you. “Yes please.” You whispered back.

“Well, we would love to keep chatting, but duty calls,” Chris helped you stand up, adjusting Charlotte so she could still cuddle onto your chest. “My girls need me.”

By the time you two had made it upstairs, you were exhausted, but could still hear the talking of your family below, murmuring softly about what great parents you two already were. Granted, it had only been a few days, but in your opinion, you both already were. Despite being on the younger side, you and Chris both loved your daughter with your whole heart, and that was what you wanted the most. 

“Thanks for what you did back there,” You yawned as Chris tucked you into bed after placing Charlotte, who was fast asleep, in her crib. “I’m really tired.” 

“I could tell,” Your husband bustled around the room, straightening things up to lessen the load on your plate. “You’re so strong, baby.”

You were almost asleep, but you could sense that Chris had stopped moving, which with your husband, meant he was up to something. “Chris? Baby, what are you doing?”

You peeked open your eyes, only for your heart to practically burst. Chris had taken his shirt off and removed your daughter’s onesie, allowing her to cuddle skin-to-skin on his chest. He smiled over at you as she yawned, fisting his skin. 

“Look!” he whisper-shouted with the biggest smile on his face. “We’re cuddling!” 

You smiled, enjoying the scene before you. “She looks so cozy.”

Chris began to sway and dance softly, singing ‘My Girl’ by The Temptations quietly. “My baby girl. God, I love you so much. You and your mommy are my rock, honey.”

You could hear the happy tears in your husband’s voice as he sang to Charlotte, and that was the moment you knew that you had made the right choice for the father of your children. Chris had been nothing but supportive throughout your whole pregnancy and labor, and it was clear he was carrying that energy into fatherhood as well. You took a mental snapshot, filing away this moment for later because you knew this would always be one you came back to.

tags ♡: @aemrsy @idek3000hi @melguilbert @oobleoob

[bruciemilf]

Do you have any head cannons about the batkids absolutely loving and adoring Batman/Bruce? I'm obsessed with the idea of them being like "I beg your pardon, but he is our Father™? Our provider? We require his attention and affection at all times pls do not distract him."

omg gonna take the chance to talk abt the batkids & their love languages bc <3333

Dick's is quality time; I can imagine him being downright territoial over his and Bruce's "watching bad Gray Ghost reboots just to laugh at Dad getting mad" time, because it's his absolute favourite.

He gets to lay his tired head on Bruce's lap and sigh pleasantly when his hair is groomed. If you make Bruce tea -- no you don't. That is illegal. Dick does.

And he's just enough of a bitch to be passive agressive about it because "It's our thing; Would you take the mic from Lady Gaga at a concert? No? Then outta my tea!"

Jason's is physical affection!!! And I say that with my whole chest!! This Frankenstein Baby is touch starved and requires all tactillness, always. It's a form of self-reassurance, AND an olive branch; It's his way of saying "I'll always want my father's love" and "You didn't come back wrong; You're not made to be handled roughly. I need to know you're here and alive and content"

and he might play tough guy, might sigh as if this is a favour, but everyone sees him melt. Bonus, the image of Jason's 6'5 ass clinging to Bruce while the poor guy tries making lunch because he CAN, ALFRED, is so cute. Jason for the son who has to lean down to get his hair ruffled like a german shephard.

Tim's is acts of service and gift giving; He's vigilant, observant, pays attention to Bruce with a hawk's eye. Especially those interests he has too little time for. Give me Tim who doesn't know a loving father but when he gets him, he's super attentive. Give me Tim who seeks Bruce's company on his own free will.

Give me Tim who'll bring puzzles home and solve them with Bruce for hours, and who'll listen to mouthpiece after mouthpiece about mechanics and cars, who doesn't like getting dirty but will stay with bruce in his workshop just to watch him work. Give me Tim who gets Bruce gifts despite his dad giving him dissaproving looks. "You shouldn't waste money."

"You're not a waste."

Damian's is words of affirmation -- PLEASE. THIS BABY IS SO READY TO YELL "Batman is actually the best superhero, actually, here's a 30 slide PP presentation as to why. Number one- because I said so" it's very inetresting for Damian; Because if he got anything from Bruce, (Please, please, he begs no one in particular, let me have something from him) is a crushing amount of insecurity.

Bruce is just downright allergic to compliements; He spits them out like a rotten meal, in fact, as if his body just can't hold them down. Damian just. Won't stand for it. "Baba, you look very pretty today. "

"...Thank you, Damian. That's very kind of you to say."

"I recently learned you won't accept compliments to your character, so this will have to do. " Does he give up? Of course not. He's a Robin. They never learned what that is.

Cass, like Dick, loves to spend time with Bruce, -- but what's surprising to the Batdad? Cass is wraith made of warmth and softness. She's stealthy and moves smoothly like wind and punches like ten men. But her love is loud.

Bruce is her only father and she's not timid about saying it. Wordlessly, sure, but no less impactful, with no small amount of passion. Give me Cass who holds hands with Bruce while on the street, and shows him funny videos on her phone, and who texts with him regularly, and who has him as her wallpaper.

That is her father and she carries him lovingly.

[dangerouslyknown]

Hi! Please do headcanons for gojo like you did Higuruma x

Satoru Gojo Headcanons 💎

A/N: Thanks for the request! My JJK obsession is hitting like a truck. I hope I delivered these Gojo headcanons well, mwah

Contents/Warnings: General headcanons, relationship headcanons both SFW & NSFW. Reader/partner is referred as "his S/O" or by they/them so gn!reader

General Headcanons

He used to play Moviestarplanet. He was sooo popular too. He had lots of friends and he made the silliest movies/artbooks which people loved

He likes to sing and usually he sings whatever is stuck in his head on random occasions, without really trying to sound good

...but oh boy if you ever get the chance to do actual karaoke with him... He sings beautifully when he puts the effort in. What a gorgeous voice, it almost surprises everyone

He goes crazy about Lady Gaga's songs and he loves to do silly little performances whenever he hears any of her songs

Gojo is also a Swiftie???

Somehow I feel like he is TERRIBLE when it comes to spending money. He hasn't had a day in his life where he had to worry about financial stuff, so...

He's the type of guy buy an expensive ice cream machine, then accidentally break it and buy a new one like it's nothing

He used to troll people online as a teen...

Actually, he probably still does it for the heck of it. He isn't one to do anything super offensive, but he enjoys messing with people

SFW Relationship headcanons

He hasn´t been in many relationships in his life, mostly because he rarely lets anyone close. Bro has trust issues :(

He dislikes being vulnerable in front of others, but his S/O is who he shows his true self. It is not something to take lightly

He KNOWS he is attractive and it flatters his ego when he is complimented on it, but if one wants to win his heart, you need to go deeper than that. He wants a person who truly appreciates him beyond looks

His love language is gift giving. He will gift his S/O anything they desire, and it´s his way of showing he cares. He gets excited like a kid in a candy store when he brings his S/O something and waits for them to open the gift

Most of the time it doesn't even have to be anything expensive. Of course he likes to spoil his S/O, but sometimes he just sees something small, which reminds him of them and he decides to buy it

Then, his unofficial love language is being annoying. He would ask "would you still love me if I was a worm" and whatnot

Related to that, he would act all smug and probably provoke arguments with his S/O just to entertain himself (but he's not malicious about it of course!)

When he sees something romantic, he would say "Ewww, sappy romance stuff" and then do exactly those things in private

He likes to show off with his relationship? Y'know, like posting about it in social media and PDA

This also ties to when he holds great pride in the thought that he's able to protect them no matter what. Maybe he's also a bit jealous and likes to show others that his S/O truly is his, and only his

Looooves to dress in matching clothing with his S/O!

Also, if he'd play online games with his S/O, he'd definitely want to do matching usernames (Sometimes it'd be cringe, but that's a part of why he loves doing it)

(NSFW under the cut)

NSFW Relationship headcanons

Leans towards being more kinky tbh

This man likes to have fun, okay? He is super adventurous in the bedroom. He's always coming up with new ideas for his S/O and him to try, and he usually is the one to initiate

He'd love to bring in ropes, blindfolds, toys of all kind and everything you could think of. He wants to use them on his S/O, but isn't against the idea being toys or ropes used on him either blindfolds wouldn't even work on him though

He´s a fan of playing with the dynamics. The vibes he gives is 50% pillow princess and 50% daddy, so there's never a dull moment when he switches up things with his S/O

He lives for teasing in the bedroom. You are not going to get anything easily from his arrogant ass: If he's a sub, he's going to be a brat. If he's a top, you need to beg him

He is capable of being serious during intimate time, but most of the time there's going to be funny and goofy moments

I could 100% see him doing something like slapping his dick against his S/O's face, then grin. At the same time it's hot but it's also hilarious (in his opinion)

Speaking of his cock, I think it's bigger than average. Length is impressive, then girth is more average-ish

Definitely very vocal during sex. He will not shut up whether it's whimpers or dirty talk

I think he loves to fuck his S/O from behind. He loves to kiss the back of their neck, their shoulders and all over their back while going at it

[belovedmusings]

You know you're my weakness.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Smut (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part four of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and tonight you are at his very first show with his new band, Curse Manipulator, lead by bassist and singer, Suguru Geto. You and Suguru are very attracted to each other, and your loyalty to Choso is once again put to the test by Suguru.

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, Choso is a sweetheart, Suguru is irresistible, drunk Choso, emotional Choso, slow burn, no “y/n” for immersion, reader has no defining features for inclusivity, mild grinding and groping

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: eyes don’t lie (Isabel LaRosa), Bad Romance (Lady Gaga), Jealous Guy (The Weeknd)

A/N: so there’s no smut again but there’s adult themes so I tagged 18+. It’s a long chapter so get comfortable. Hope you enjoy!!

Read below cut:

The show ends and as soon as the members leave the stage for the roadies to start clearing away the equipment, you meet with Choso and you all make your way back to the dressing room.

Suguru holds the door open for everyone and they all bee-line for the water bottles on the table where the pizza was earlier, the bassist making his way there last as you move to sit on the sofa. You watch as he grabs a bottle and unscrews the cap, tilting his head back to drink.

Oh.

You aren’t prepared for the sight of his exposed neck, his Adam’s apple and the veins near where his shoulders meet the column, the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt, skin sweaty from exertion while performing…

His eyes find yours as he finishes, but your attention is taken from him when Choso sits beside you and hands you an extra water he grabbed. His arm comes around your shoulders, and you turn to look at him instead.

“Doing okay?” He asks you, eyes still shining with concern. You nod, clutching the bottle in both hands.

“I’m fine,” you reply, shaking your head after a moment, “Forget about me. You did amazing up there, Chos’. You’re a natural. Really—it was like I was seeing a celebrity.”

His face heats and he laughs in a huff, looking at his lap. “I don’t know about that, but…”

“Seriously,” you say, wanting him to know just how good he did. “If I wasn’t already dating you I’d have fallen in love in the crowd. I’m sure people did.”

He covers his face with his free hand and groans in embarrassment. “Okay, okay.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to his reddened cheek.

Then, you feel the other side of the couch dip, followed by that silky voice that haunts your fantasies.

“How was your first Curse Manipulator show?”

You look to your other side to see Suguru sitting next to you, his back to the armrest so that he can face you, leg on the couch bent so his foot rests on the knee of his other, taking up as much space as he can as per usual. His shin is touching your thigh and it’s playing with the soundness of your mind.

He asked you a question. Answer it before you give yourself away.

“It was amazing,” you say truthfully. “This band is special, seriously.”

The smile on his face remains the same. “How’d I do?”

What? He asked me that in front of Choso?

You swallow thickly, willing yourself not to look at your boyfriend. That would make you look guilty, and you’re not. You haven’t done anything.

Besides let him mark your wrist during a temporary lapse in control…stop. Focus.

“Of course you did great,” you do your best to laugh through it. He grins wider, nodding to himself. He leans against his fist, elbow digging into the cushion beside him. He sobers up and looks at you seriously after a moment.

“How are you doing? That creep didn’t get to you too bad, did he?” Asks Suguru. Choso shifts beside you.

“He didn’t,” Choso answers for you, “Thanks for calling him out.”

“Of course. I think we saw him at the same time,” Suguru replies. He shifts his attention from Choso back to you. “Men can be insufferable sometimes.”

With the way you’re looking at him, you’re the one who feels insufferable, wanting him in the most primal way possible. You also think that he’s talking about himself. He wants you the same way, if that damn mark that seems to be tingling subtly beneath your sleeve under his gaze is anything to go by.

“Yeah, they can,” you agree distractedly. The air seems electric, and the only thing that breaks the trance you’re in is Larue’s voice.

“Who’s ready to party?!” He shouts, causing you to jolt, flitting your eyes back to him. He’s clapping his hands together as Miguel is laughing.

“I got dibs on spinning the tracks first. Venue owner said I could,” Miguel replies, the two making their ways to the door. “You guys coming?”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll join you in a minute,” Suguru replies easily. “Don’t wait on our account.”

“All right,” shrugs Miguel, the two exiting the room.

Choso sighs beside you. “Should I drink tonight?”

You raise a brow. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I never do. It would be nice just this once.”

“Sure,” you shrug. You’ve heard from him that he’s sort of a lightweight, but you’ve never seen it yourself. “Just don’t get carried away.”

He smiles at you. “I won’t.”

“Are you bad with alcohol?” Asks Suguru, and Choso hums.

“Yeah. Can’t hold it well,” he answers.

“I see. I don’t really like it,” Suguru replies. He glances at you. “And you?”

“I think I’ll stay sober. Especially since Choso’s going to drink, I’ll be our driver tonight.”

“I see,” Suguru nods, getting off of the couch. “Well, should we go join everyone?”

You nod, standing up with Choso. Your hand interlocks with his, and the three of you head to the house of the venue.

—-

Miguel has good taste in music. The concert-venue-turned-club is lively with people dancing and having fun, dim lighting and the heavy smell of weed and alcohol permeating the air. It’s loud so you can’t really talk, but you and Choso are glued to the bar, your boyfriend nursing his third drink of the night. The two of you don’t really like outings such as this, but out of the two of you, Choso is more out of place. He doesn’t really like to dance like this—provocative grinding, groping in public—the one time you two did dance together in public it was at his cousin’s wedding a few months ago, wherein you waltzed together.

You don’t really favor the idea of clubbing, but you wouldn’t mind it if you trusted the person you were with. Choso wouldn’t want to do it, and since he doesn’t, you don’t dwell on joining in. Sticking to the bar is fine.

What isn’t fine is the sight of Suguru at the edge of the crowd a little ways away from you, dancing with some woman who approached him when the current song began. His hands are on her waist but his eyes are on you, and it’s doing very sinful things to you. Taunting you. Beckoning you. Provoking you.

He keeps her facing away from himself, their bodies pressed together, and the sight makes your blood boil. You want him off of her. You want him on you instead, to be dancing with him, to feel his body against yours, his arms around you, his breath on your ear—

It’s insane.

How are you getting jealous over a man who isn’t your boyfriend?

It’s not like you have any sort of claim on him. You have no right. And yet, when the woman makes a very obvious, lewd movement against him while she turns to whisper in his ear you grimace, turning away pointedly. You don’t look at him again.

Another few songs pass, Choso downs another drink, and that’s when your boyfriend leans over to speak to you.

“I have to run to the bathroom,” he says, “I’m gonna go get Suguru to be with you while I’m gone. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Your heart starts racing. “Uh…”

“I’ll be back.”

Before you can stop him, he’s making his way over to his bandmate. You blink mindlessly, watching them talk, and then Suguru is politely parting with the girl he was with, moving towards you while Choso heads the other direction.

Suguru settles right next to you once he’s there, an easy smile across his features.

“Hey,” he greets, and you see it more than hear it due to the volume of the music.

“Hi.”

His eyes run over you for a second before he leans back. He sighs heavily, as if words that were on the tip of his tongue are fizzling out, and he takes another moment of consideration before moving closer so you can hear him.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Your breath hitches nervously at his proximity, his face only a few breaths away, and against your better judgment, you steal a long glance, admiring the perfect structure of his features shamelessly.

“Is there something on my face?” He asks with a grin, and you blink a few times to get your head back on.

“No, no…”

“Then what is it?” He still has that content, easy expression on his face.

“You’re pretty.”

His eyebrows raise and you watch his eyes widen a fraction, lips parting in slight shock. Then, he laughs bashfully, eyes turning into crescents, and you feel your ribcage starting to melt.

“I’ve heard hot or sexy, but never ‘pretty’,” he says, eyeing you mirthfully. “I take that as the highest form of compliment.”

So, other people have voiced their thoughts on him, have flirted—who, you wonder. And how did he take it? Was he flattered? Did he flirt back?

“What’d that girl you were dancing with tell you that you were?” You ask boldly, shocked to hear those words bear the contours of your voice. His lips turn up in a smirk.

“Are you sure you want me to answer that question truthfully?” It’s said lowly, and coupled with his lidded eyes, you feel heat twist in your gut. Now you’re intrigued.

“I’m curious now.”

His lips tug up further at a corner before he leans forward even more, pressing his mouth to your ear. Your eyes flutter closed automatically, body subconsciously leaning into his. “She said I felt big.”

Despite the hot stuffy air of the room, suddenly your body is ravaged with goosebumps. Your breath escapes you, and as his eyes meet yours again, you feel certain he’s taken a few years off of your life span with his existence.

“You’re driving me insane,” you breathe, the words out before you can stop them, and it must be the type of response he’s looking for because he reaches up and touches your cheek with the tips of his fingers, holding your eyes with his stare.

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

You inhale slowly, just sizing him up for a long moment. Around you, people are dancing, grinding, drinking, moving and yet everything feels so still. All you see is Suguru right now, and you don’t want him to stop touching you.

Your eyes flit down to his mouth, silver rings glinting against the dim lighting, and you watch his mouth pull into a smile.

“You never answered my question from earlier, love.”

That term of endearment punches through your diaphragm, knocking the wind out of you. Love. He called you love.

He asked you a question earlier. What was it? What is he talking about? Why is it so hot, all of a sudden? You need to cool off.

A drink. He asked if you wanted a drink.

“Oh, uh, no,” you shake your head, “I’m driving Choso home, remember?”

Choso. Fuck.

You back up, sense returning to you as you remember who you are and who you’re with.

Suguru’s smile falls slightly as you put distance between the two of you, and he makes a move to get closer again. Out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar frame, and turn out on instinct, abruptly making Suguru aware of Choso’s approaching figure.

He stills and stays put in his spot, looking over as Choso gets closer. As he comes into view, you notice tears in his eyes.

Your heart drops. You and Suguru had just been close enough to kiss. You’re certain that given one wrong move, you would have kissed. Did he see? Does he know about whatever you have going on with Suguru?

You turn to look back at Suguru, fear shining through your eyes, and he instantly turns towards your boyfriend, alert now. Whether he’s preparing to remedy the situation or lie completely, you don’t know, but Choso sees you and hurries over, hands outstretched for you.

“Baby,” he sniffles as soon as you’re within earshot, grabbing you and pulling you in. You let him, stunned and confused. You don’t think he’d react this way if he had seen, so what is it?

“What, honey?” You ask, cupping his face in concern. “Why are you crying, Chos’?”

“I just love you so much,” he blubbers, eyeliner running down his cheeks. “I do, I really do…”

It registers what’s going on. He’d told you before that he can’t hold his liquor well at all. He rarely drinks because of that. You’ve never seen him so smashed—he must be an emotional drunk. It must have really kicked in while he was separated from you.

“Oh,” you exhale in relief, realizing he doesn’t seem to know about the…thing between you and Suguru, “I love you too, baby.”

“Thank you,” he sniffles, peppering your face with kisses. His weight is being pushed on you and it makes you stumble with the effort to hold him up. “Thank you so much…”

“Is he okay?”

You turn to look at Suguru, who is watching worriedly. Choso hiccups and looks up at Suguru, nodding profusely.

“Yes. Yeah, everything is amazing,” he sobs, “I’m so happy…I’m so in love…”

He kisses your cheek again, putting more of his weight on you and you stumble to balance it. Suguru takes action and wraps one of Choso’s arms around his shoulders to hold him up, taking the pressure off of you.

Choso clings to your waist with the other hand, leaning on you with his head, getting tears on your neck. He can’t even stand—it’s time to leave. Any longer and he’ll probably pass out right here.

“He’s really drunk,” you tell Suguru. “Help me get him to the car. I have to take him home.”

Suguru nods, and the three of you trudge to the main door, weaving through the people to leave the pounding music behind.

As soon as you’re out you take a breath, sighing contentedly as fresh air hits your system. You hadn’t realized just how stuffy it was.

Choso makes a noise in the back of his throat and starts scattering more kisses over your face, making the three of you stagger for balance.

“Choso,” you say, trying to ground him, “Choso, let’s sit down, okay?”

He nods, allowing Suguru to help him to sit on the curb, feet in front of himself over the pavement. You look up at Suguru, who is watching you two silently. You can’t leave Choso like this, and you don’t really want to be alone in this area either.

“Did you drink yet?” You ask him.

“No.”

“Can you get my things, bring my car around, and help me get him into it?”

The bassist nods without hesitation. “Is it all in your bag back in the dressing room?”

“Yeah. You…you know my car, right?” How could he not?

He grins slyly, knowing exactly what you’re thinking, and nods. “I do. I’ll be back.”

You watch him go back inside, turning all of your attention to your boyfriend. He’s gazing at you like you hung all of the stars in his drunken stupor.

He says your name, and you reach up to brush a strand of matted hair from his forehead. “Yeah?”

“I’m a good big brother, aren’t I?”

The question catches you off-guard. You know his brothers, of course, you’ve met all ten of them and even have good relationships with a few. His youngest brother, Yuuji, is just adorable, and gushes about Choso all of the time.

“Of course you’re a good big brother. You’re a great big brother,” you answer, not sure where he’s going with it. “Why?”

“In that case…d’you think I’d make a good father?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh…well…yes, I don’t see why not.”

He smiles tenderly at you. “I want to have kids with you.”

Your jaw drops. What?

You’ve never talked about kids before. Ever. Is he just so drunk that he’s talking out of his ass, or does he mean it? You find it hard to believe he’d just be saying that, even like this.

“You do?”

“I really do,” he nods in confirmation, starting to ramble through his tears, “We should start tonight. We can have ten like my parents did. Or more. I love you so much, we can have a huge family—”

“Choso,” you interrupt him with a hand on his cheek. “Slow down, okay? It’s okay.”

He sniffles. “D'you not want them with me?”

You’re at a loss. You honestly haven’t thought about kids a ton. Tonight is the last night you’d have expected a conversation like this to come up.

“Chos’, we haven’t talked about it before,” you say softly. “It’s a big decision.”

He starts to cry more. “I’m sorry. I’m too emotional right now…but I just love you…”

You grunt in surprise as he thuds his forehead against your chest, clinging to you tightly. For a minute he just cries, and you pet his hair soothingly, unsure of what to do. He is an emotional guy—he cries during sad movies, sometimes even when he sees a video of cute puppies or kittens. But this is different. You can see why he steers clear of alcohol.

“I love you too,” you reply, kissing his hair. “I’m here, Choso, don’t worry.”

He nods, hugging you closer as he just lets it out.

You stay like that until Suguru brings the car around, parking it in front of you and getting out.

“Okay, let’s go home, babe,” you tell Choso, and he nods blearily.

Suguru helps you get Choso into the backseat, lifting his strong body from the ground and guiding him in. You buckle your boyfriend in and then close the door, sighing heavily.

“Thanks,” you tell Suguru as he drops the keys into your hand.

“Any time,” he tells you easily. “Are you gonna be able to get him to your place okay? He’s probably going to pass out."

You hadn’t thought about that. You won’t be able to get Choso out of the car alone, and he’s already looking ready to doze off.

“Yeah…I probably won’t be able to.”

“Want me to come with you?” Asks Suguru.

Letting him into your home with a belligerent Choso is not a good idea, but you don’t have a choice. You do need his help.

“Sure. Uh, please.”

And that’s how you end up driving home with not only your boyfriend in the backseat, but also with Suguru beside you on the passenger’s side.

The first part of the ride is quiet save for the low music on your speakers, Choso snoozing away behind you. You keep glancing back at him through the rear-view mirror, unable to stop thinking about what he’d said to you on the curb of the venue.

About halfway through, Suguru speaks up at a low volume.

“You look troubled, and you keep sighing,” he says to you. “What’s on your mind?”

You glance at him quickly, more of those confusing feelings bubbling up in your chest. He looks so good next to you in the car, waiting on your answer.

It wouldn’t be fair to talk to him about this before you’ve even processed it, let alone Choso. This is between the two of you, anyway. You don’t feel right delving into such an intimate topic with Suguru, so you opt to deflect.

“Just a lot happened tonight,” you shrug, “I mean, the concert was…eventful.”

“Right,” Suguru sighs, “I saw him bothering you, and…I don’t know, I just got upset. I spoke up before I could think—I’m sorry, by the way, for drawing attention to you like that. I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

You definitely weren’t expecting him to have picked up on that.

“Oh, well…I mean, it was a lot of attention, but if you hadn’t, who knows what he would have done?” You reply, “Thank you for that.”

“No need to thank me,” Suguru runs a hand through his hair, “Guys like that only think with their second heads.”

It takes a pause, but once what he said registers, you can’t help but snort, which quickly bubbles up into a giggle. The next thing you know, the two of you are sharing a laugh, some of the tension dissolving from your shoulders.

You realize you’ve never heard his laugh before. It’s so pretty—like deep, smooth wind chimes. You chance a glance away from the road at him to see his smile, and god, is it breathtaking? You want to see him like this all of the time.

Oh god, are you developing a crush on him?

That can’t be, it’s pure lust you feel for him. Not actual feelings. That’s all. You shake the thoughts away and compose yourself, focusing back on the road.

“I think most guys think with their second heads,” you reply, and he huffs in amusement.

“Maybe. But there are some that think with their hearts, instead.”

You draw in a breath, looking at him again. He smiles earnestly at you this time, and it makes your heart feel twenty degrees hotter than the rest of your body.

“Yeah, there are,” you reply noncommittally, rushing to steer the subject away from where it’s headed. You won’t flirt with Suguru while your drunk boyfriend is passed out behind you. “So…what got you into music?”

He hums, giving you a look. “Curved me quick, didn’t you?”

Your face gets hot instantly at his tone. “No, well, I mean—”

“I’m teasing,” He chuckles softly. “I don’t mind. I got into it in high school. It’s a little bit of a sad thing, really—my family moved around a lot, so I never had the chance to make friends with anyone. I turned to music to cope with the loneliness.”

You nod understandingly, flitting your eyes to him for a moment before asking, “Why’d you move so much?”

Suguru looks at you for a moment before saying, “My mom was a single mother. Well, she was, after my father left us when I was eight. He was addicted to gambling and never did anything to help around the house, so she was my sole caretaker anyway. He was awful—but that’s a different story,” he laughs quietly. “Anyway, she had a boyfriend after that, and he turned out to be obsessive and weird, so we had to move. I left my only friend behind, then. Her ex-boyfriend followed us around and we had to keep moving, it was this whole thing…”

He trails off, leaning on his knuckles against the window. You reach a red stoplight and look at him again, noticing the far-away glint in his eyes.

Without thinking, you reach over to place your hand on his leg to comfort him, earning you an appreciative smile from him. He covers your hand with his own, giving it a gentle pulse, and it makes your heart flutter.

The light turns green, glow cast upon his moon-kissed skin, and you turn back to face the dash, retracting your hand.

“Uh,” you begin, trying to minimize the tension suddenly between the two of you. “That’s…”

“Sad, I know,” He shrugs. “But I’ve come to terms with it. He left us alone after I had my growth spurt and decided to confront him head-on.”

Your brows raise. “Yeah? Did you…fight?”

“He was waiting for us in front of our apartment building,” Suguru explains, “Mom and I saw him getting back from school, so I got out of the car and basically told him if he didn’t fuck off, I’d break his legs.”

“No way,” You reply, glancing at him incredulously. “You said that? You weren’t afraid he had a weapon?”

“I guess I didn’t care,” Suguru answers, “My whole life, I’d been running, and struggling. So I figured if it ended badly, it didn’t matter.”

“Hmm,” you hum in amusement. “So…he listened, then?”

“The punch I threw after he tried hitting me first was pretty persuasive.”

Your mouth drops in shock. “You punched him?”

“Yeah, I did,” He says in a laugh.

“Wow. I didn’t take you for the violent type.”

“Well, I’m not violent, per say—that was the only time I got to that point. I’m very patient. But it was worn thin, back then. I’d had enough, and it was wearing my mother down, especially. I wanted to protect her, and I’m glad I did. After that, we stopped moving, I finished high school, performed on my own, met some people including Miguel, Larue, and our former bassist, Sukuna, and the rest is history.”

You consider his words, nodding for a moment. “That makes sense. That’s good that things became somewhat normal, after that.”

He shifts in his seat. “You know…I guess that’s partly why I got so upset when I saw that guy bothering you.”

It’s like he commands the beat of your heart. As soon as he says that, you feel it start to pound in your chest.

“You’re protective.”

“I am,” He agrees. “I’m just glad I could do something.”

You flash him a grateful smile, the car continuing to coast along the road at a pleasant speed.

“I’ve talked enough about me,” He says. “Tell me about yourself.”

The change in topic pulls a laugh out of you. “That’s pretty broad. What do you want to know?”

“Well, you told me about what you do for work back at Choso's audition. I guess…hobbies? Favorite movie, show, color, food, season?”

You snort quietly, deciding to play along. “Okay…”

You proceed to list off the answers to his questions in order, smiling at the nod of approval he gives you. “I see. Hmm…tell me about your family. Are you close? Who are the most important people in your life?”

The question is so intimate, it makes you feel a bit self-conscious. Still, it’s also really flattering that he’s so genuinely interested in you, so you answer him truthfully.

As you divulge in what is essentially your own backstory, he nods and listens, only humming on occasion. It carries on for the duration of the car ride, ending with, “…and that’s how Choso and I got together. He’s one of the most important people in my life, for obvious reasons.”

“Huh, I see. That’s a sweet story,” He replies, “You know, he talks about you a lot. I can tell he really loves you. It’s like you’re the center of his universe.”

A rush of warmth fills your chest, and you glance into the rearview-mirror, smiling softly as he continues sleeping away, out like a light.

“I can’t blame him,” Suguru tells you. “I’d act the same way, if you were mine.”

He says it so casually, it takes a moment for you to remember yourself relative to the statement. As soon as you do, you also realize that you’re turning onto your street.

You try a lighthearted response. “Oh? Am I that special?”

“Yeah, you are.”

He says it so sincerely, there’s no room for jokes. You just sigh, pulling the car up to the curb in front of your place.

“This is it?” He asks, looking out of the window as you put it into park and take the key from the ignition.

“Yeah,” you answer, unbuckling and grabbing your bag, stepping out of the driver’s seat. “Come on, let’s get him up to bed.”

Suguru obeys, getting out of the car and moving to get your boyfriend.

He ducks to grab Choso’s arm, tugging him towards the door and bending his knees to pull him onto his back, draping him across. He holds onto his wrists to steady him, standing up straight with a labored huff.

You try desperately not to notice the strain of his muscles but you fail instantly. As he kicks the door closed gently, you take a deep breath, turning away to lock the car.

“Okay,” you say, “Follow me.”

The two of you head towards the destination, keeping quiet so as not to disturb neighbors. Soon, you get inside, and after you lock the front door closed, you lead Suguru to your bedroom, where he eases Choso off of his back. Your boyfriend goes limply, laying facing up.

“Thanks,” you tell Suguru. “I’ll clean him up a little. Wait for me in the living room?”

Suguru gives you a smile. “I’ll be there.”

With that, he exits the room, leaving you to take care of Choso. You turn to look at your boyfriend, deciding to deal with his shoes first. After that, you ease into a rhythm, getting him out of his socks and pants.

Next, you take his hair from their ties, massaging the top of his head to relieve some of the strain. He grumbles in his sleep, leaning into your touch, and your gaze softens.

His eyelashes flutter, and then he’s blinking them open.

“Hey,” you greet quietly, “We’re home now. Suguru helped me get you here.”

He sniffles, groaning before he speaks gravely, “I feel like death.”

“That’s the last time you get hammered, Chos’,” you sigh, and he nods deliriously.

“…won’t ‘nymore,” he croaks, and you lean down, pecking his forehead. The furrow in his brow smoothes out, and within a minute, his breathing turns even and he’s asleep once more.

You sigh, deciding to just clean his makeup off—if he wakes up again, he can properly get under the covers himself. Moving to the bathroom, you grab a makeup wipe and wet a washcloth with warm water, padding back into your room to clean your boyfriend’s face up.

Once it’s free of sweat and eyeliner streaks, you throw the wipe away and toss the cloth into your hamper, taking a moment to gaze at your boyfriend from near the door.

What he’d said earlier returns to you. Wanting children with you—was he really being serious? It just doesn't seem feasible. He’s about to take off with the band. If you got pregnant now, you’d basically be a single mother. You wouldn’t be able to go everywhere with him. The kids would only see him when he’s not busy. Is that a life that you want? One where he gets to go off and be some famous star, and you stay home and take care of the kids?

You sigh. It sounds so nineteen-fifties-nuclear-family. Maybe kids would be nice, but with the lifestyle you two are about to live, it changes things. You don’t know if that’s what you want for yourself, and up until tonight, you had no clue Choso was even considering kids like that. Until you can talk sober, there’s no point in ruminating on it, you suppose. You’ll just have to be honest with your uncertainty when the conversation comes up.

All you know for sure is that you love him, and that he loves you. Anything else between you, the two of you can work out.

With that, you decide to table the thoughts for now so that you can wrap the night up with Suguru. You reach into your pocket, checking the time, way past midnight. You’re not going to drive Suguru all the way back to his car where it is at the venue. You’re tired and it’s pretty far away. Making him call a ride service sounds wrong, too. He could stay the night, right? That’s fine. You could set him up on the couch with blankets and a pillow. There are extra toiletries in the bathroom you have in the hall.

Taking a breath, you grab the blanket from the foot of your bed as well as a pillow from your side before exiting the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

You walk down the hall and find him near the bookshelf you have stacked with CDs, records, and cassettes. ‘Acquainted’ by The Weeknd is playing at a low volume on the stereo on the table beside it. He hears you walk in and turns to face you, a chuckle leaving his lips once he takes in the sight of the items in your hands.

“Are we having a sleepover?” He grins, watching you put them down on the couch.

“Well, I figured it was too late anyway. You can just stay here for the night—we have a bathroom with extra stuff in the hall, you can use any of the things there,” You say.

“Really? Do you guys have a lot of guests?”

“Not a lot, just, Choso has a lot of brothers and especially his youngest stays over sometimes, forgets things,” you shrug.

“Ah, I see,” he nods, then gestures to your music collection. “You have really good taste.”

You snort. “Thanks. Half of it’s Choso’s, but I guess we have pretty similar preferences.”

“Yeah? All the time?”

“Like, in general? Or with music?”

“In general.”

You shift on your feet. “Well, a lot, anyways.”

Suguru hums, folding his arms across his chest, seeming to consider something. “Why didn’t you dance tonight?”

You aren’t expecting the question, so when he asks, you sort of flounder for a second.

“Well,” you begin, “It’s not really Choso’s thing, and I don’t mind, so we just didn’t.”

“You don’t mind?” He asks, “But…you would have liked to?”

How can he see through you like that?

“Sort of…”

He clicks a button on the stereo, and the song starts over. He turns the volume up slightly next.

“You seemed like you were missing out tonight,” Suguru says as he walks towards you, crossing the room quickly. “It was a shame Choso wasn’t dancing with you.”

He sidles up to your front, smiling at you warmly.

“Dance with me.”

You draw in a breath, the feelings you have for him that you’ve suppressed in order to take care of Choso coming back tenfold. Like this, you become aware of just how close you two are, in a room all alone together, Choso out cold in bed. The potential is maddening. Still…it’s not a good idea.

“I don’t know…”

“It’s just a dance,” shrugs Suguru, that damn smirk he makes good use of drawn up over his lips again. “I can tell you want to. Please? You’ve had to deal with a drunk creep and then a hammered boyfriend. Just have some fun with me before bed.”

Have some fun with me before bed. That’s going to be the new one-liner for your fantasies later, you’re absolutely sure of it.

You gaze at Suguru’s face, eyes sincere and kind. How can you refuse? He’s right. You want to dance with him.

You should have some fun—it’s innocent enough. Just a dance. It should be fine.

“Okay,” you nod, and he grins at you, taking your hand and leading you to the center of the living room. His hands find your waist, pulling you so close you have no choice but to rest your palms on his chest. You share the same air, now.

“I saw you getting jealous back there,” Suguru says softly, the two of you moving to the beat slowly.

“Jealous?”

“When I was dancing with the girl,” He replies, eyeing you mirthfully. “The truth is, I wanted to make you jealous.”

You swear your heart slams against your ribcage. Heat floods your system at the words, made worse when he pulls you against him, your fronts pressed together. You can feel him everywhere and it’s short-circuiting your brain.

“Well, you were successful.”

He chuckles lowly and you swear it vibrates in your own ribcage like thunder.

“I want you to know, you’re the only one I want.”

Your breath stutters on its way out. How can he continue to say things like that to you?

“Suguru…”

“You can feel it, can’t you?” He asks, “The potential between us?”

You force yourself to breathe, barely paying attention to your dancing now. His eyes are reaching into your soul. You thank your past self for deciding not to drink, because if you had, you’d have probably kissed him by now. Instead, you cling to your wits.

“I’m not going to hurt him. You know I love him, Suguru.”

“I know,” he agrees, “But I still want you.”

“You shouldn’t,” you say, feeling your resolve start to crumble. He’s right here. Touching you, breathing the same air—you could give in right now and have him on the couch. You could finally answer all of the questions you have about what he’s like, what you’d be like getting intimate with him…

He searches your eyes while you let your thoughts run wild. “Push me away if you don’t want this.”

Confused, you furrow your brows. “What?”

But he doesn’t give a verbal response. He just leans in, pressing his nose to yours. That’s when you realize that he’s moving to kiss you. Your breath hitches as his top lip brushes against yours, hot air fanning over your mouth—

You have a boyfriend, for fucks’ sake, you need to stop.

By the grace of your willpower, you turn around at the last second, facing your back to his front. His hands stay on your waist, lips finding your ear as he corrects his position.

“We both know you want me too.” It’s said under his breath, deeply, and your eyes flutter shut as your movements to the music become less rhythmic and more sensual. He's barely fazed by the way you had dodged him.

“Just dance with me,” you tell him in hopes of distracting him, covering his hands with your own. He leans his head against yours, sighing beside you.

“I think I‘ll show you what she was talking about.”

You’re perplexed for a second before he presses himself flush into you, the outline of his member bluntly felt against your body. You shudder—she was right. He does feel big. That time in his kitchen wasn’t an exaggeration after all.

“Fuck,” you swear under your breath, and he slides his hands from your waist to your hips, then back up. The touch automates a response from your own body. You grind back on him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you feel even more of him. He responds by squeezing your waist, stamping a peck to your ear. He feels firmer; his body is reacting to yours and the notion makes you dizzy.

You shiver, leaning away as he plants more chaste kisses along the line of your jaw, giving him more room.

Maybe it’s the late hour making your judgment waver, but lust starts possessing you like an eager demon, and when he gently guides you to turn back around, his lips ghosting over yours—

"I love you so much." Choso's voice echoes in your mind suddenly, like a flare in the dark.

Abruptly, you pull away, cutting the passionate exchange short and putting distance between the two of you. It’s like your head suddenly reattaches to your body.

You feel your heart breaking—how could you do this?

Choso had just been gushing about you earlier, proclaiming his love for you and wanting kids with tears streaking down his face, and here you are, so close to giving in to some sort of fucked up lust for his bandmate.

Suguru sees the anguish on your face and speaks up.

“It was me. I’m sorry. I pushed and got carried away,” he sucks in a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I…I know I’m probably not welcome here anymo—”

“I’m going to bed,” you choose to say, looking away. “Just stay the night. Choso…can take you back tomorrow.”

The room is silent for a moment save for the music, deathly still, tension so thick one could cut through it.

Suguru says your name, and you meet his eyes, so many mixed emotions swirling inside of you. Regret, desire, sadness, longing, disappointment in yourself—it’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. Forgive me, please.”

You don’t even know what to say. You can’t believe you almost did that.

“I didn’t mean to make things—”

“Well, what did you mean to do?” You lash out, surprising even yourself. You’re upset, mostly with your own actions, but rationality is no longer a factor here. “I told you I wouldn’t cheat, and you keep pushing.”

He frowns. “I know. It’s my fault—I’m sorry.”

Neither of you move, and it feels like a sort of stand-off. He eyes you for a moment before sighing, brushing his hair back.

“He deserves you. I don’t,” he tells you, pain in his gaze. “I won’t do anything like that again, I’m okay with just being friends with you. Can we?”

You do think he’s cool, and he’s kind to you, as well. He protected you at the concert tonight along with your boyfriend. He bore his soul to you in the car, and you feel like the two of you really would be great friends, if it weren’t for the mess of confusing feelings you’ve tangled each other in.

You know having him around will always cause problems. You’re always going to want him, and he’s always going to want you. At some point you both will cross even more lines you shouldn’t, and your relationship as well as the band will get caught in the crossfire. You can’t let that happen.

“I’m sorry, Suguru,” you sigh heavily, “But we shouldn’t see each other again. You know it’s not a good idea.”

His face falls even further, and it shatters the already fragmented pieces of your heart. “But, I don’t want to lose you.”

It stings. But you need to drive the point home. You can’t lose Choso—he’s your boyfriend, not Suguru.

“You can’t lose what you don’t have.”

You know that it lands exactly where it needs to—you’ve never seen a man break before, but the way he just crumbles before you in his eyes makes you feel even worse than you already do.

“I’m sorry. Just…sorry.”

With that, you turn and walk up your hallway, entering the bedroom you share with your boyfriend. You couldn’t bear to stay in that room with the aftermath of your mistakes any longer. The door shuts behind you and you lock it, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Choso is still completely comatose, breathing heavily, and you walk over to him and soothe hair from his face. The tears finally spill down your cheeks, a million apologies fused into each one of them. You want the ground to just swallow you up so that Choso doesn’t have to be with someone so unfaithful and untrustworthy. You let Suguru touch you, and you almost kissed him twice. Choso would never do that to you with someone else, how could you do it to him?

You don’t know where things will go from here. Will you tell him? Will you keep it a secret? Lying to him forever can’t be good—but can you be brave enough to tell him the truth? Could you bear it if he leaves?

There’s so many thoughts in your head, so much self-deprecation you feel sick.

“I love you, Chos’,” you murmur, placing a kiss on his brow. His lips curl up in a gentle smile, and it makes you feel all sorts of wrong. Even in sleep, he loves you completely. You abused that tonight, and there’s no mitigating that.

Without a doubt, you know that you’re in for a very long, sleepless night.

---

A/N: things are awkward between you now...what will happen next? Thanks for all the support, I'm so happy you're enjoying this! I'm going to be cross-posting to AO3 soon so look out for that!

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

Taglist (comment here or on masterlist to be added): @jaegerstan222 , @cosmicstarlatte , @dabisdolly , @moonriseoverkyoto , @propheticfire , @bontensbabygirl , @crlyhairedwxtch , @alittlebirdahgaselx , @okkovtsu , @notbellasstuff , @uchihabbynic , @polaroidnana , @childof-iluvtar , @shadowfoxy , @jordan-network , @dreamtravelersade , @unmatchxd , @lucyrocks86 , @spineyy , @k3lbade , @xxbuckpoppi , @naughtygobbo , @slammynics , @roseambers , @luvingyouwasreallyhard , @hinachaaan , @redladyrae-blog (please check your settings if you see your username and didn't get a notification)

[mera-kiin]

Hey there! Just wanted to say I love your artstyle in general (it's so pretty) and especially the recent fem (or... butch, rather) stuff you've been drawing! Love it sm, keep up the good work! :) I hope you have a nice day!

Thank u I love all of them too! I hope u have a nice day as well. Now I'm going to use ur ask as an excuse to show everyone all my other lady spy concepts!

I was thinkin about whether or not to give her the silly Lady Gaga hat but then I realized oh right this is tf2. We're all about silly impractical hats.

[the-moon-lullaby]

Headcanons : The HSL Boys + Priya Drunk

N/A: So this random but the other day I was talking about MCL with a friend and as summer approaches and plans are being planned (chaotic ones mainly) we started to wonder how the LIs would be like when drunk. So I thought I'd share my opinion on the matter.

* little disclaimer : always drink alcohol with moderation and if you don't drink, don't let others influence you (f*ck them if they make fun of you about that, they're the problem) and if you do drink though, always drink glasses of water between glasses of alcohol (you'll thank yourself the next day)

𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚕 :

Emotional drunk

Not every time though, it doesn’t happen that often but when it does ,just give him a compliment or tell him something sad and you just launched the machine

This will be likely followed by this « I love you guys » speech (he’s probably really drunk at this point so his discourse doesn’t make sense but it the least of his concerns right now)

Will never admit it or accept to talk about it the next day (might even pretend that he doesn’t remember it as if it was enough to make everyone forget about it lol)

But when he’s not emotional, he’s actually extrovert ???

Like he talks with everyone and have good laugh with them (my boy has become a social butterfly for the night)

Would accept a cigarette if someone offers him one so PLS STOP HIM (he has to protect his voice come on)

Totally up for karaoke but don’t you dare try to make him sing these commercial songs he always complains about because he certainly won’t and he’ll rant about how they suck

Bonus point : I can picture him ✨slaying✨ a Lady Gaga karaoke. Like he knows the lyrics and even some bit of the choreo (probably won’t do it though, I guess that’s where he draws the line). That would depend on who is around tho (for example if Nathaniel is around, haha no. He’ll never let this guy catch him singing Bad Romance, no matter how drunk)

If he keeps drinking, he might throw up and he’ll try to be slick about it (but everyone knows that when he left in such a hurry, it was because the end was near for him)

He has the worst hangovers. It takes him 3 whole business days to get back on his feet (he has to get over the physical consequences but also the embarrassment. Because, ew, talking about feelings and all when he’s drunk cringes him so bad lol)

𝙻𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 :

Philosophically confused drunk ? 

Literally, anything could become matter to philosophical debates at this point and out of nowhere he’ll just start pondering existence and the meaning of life. 

And he has a lot to say (which is surprising according to the fact that Lysander isn’t really talkative in  general)

Can get anyone captivated because he speaks from the heart and he kinda make a point (he make people rethink their whole life so that can be a bit of a buzzkill as much as it can be fascinating. It’s 50/50)

Honestly, I struggle to imagine Lysander drunk because I don’t think there’s a lot of circumstances where he would be likely to drink a lot. Especially that I don’t think he’s really fond of strong alcohol (like vodka, rum or else) but more of a wine kinda guy. 

(Which is why that if he does get drunk, he’ll get a dreadful hangover the next day because there’s nothing like a wine hangover y’all)

I feel like if he’s not pondering existence, he’ll be just listening at people (you know the people that overshare when drunk, spilling the tea without judgment or just telling their life story, I kinda love these people)

He would be a really good listener and would conclude the conversation by a inspiring quote he just made up (you can’t silence the poet in him)

If you leave him on his own for too long tho, he might get an existential crisis (like « Where is my life leading me ??? What should life be like ?? What’s after life ??? How do you know you’re living and not surviving ???) Yeah, he asks himself a lot of questions and that can be overwhelming (relatable)

If people pressuring to sing, he’ll just be annoyed so don’t. He don’t really like to sing when drunk because he knows that this won’t be his best performance 

Bonus point : I believe he’s the kind of person that can get sleepy from alcohol (add to that the fact that he spends his days working hard) so he’s likely to be one of the first that want to leave the party lol

𝙰𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗 :

If you’re going to an event or a party where Armin might get drunk, please bring a leash with you

Not but for real, he’s the runner type of drunk 

Totally that friend that’ll randomly disappear in the middle of the party to do some side quests without warning ANYONE

So everyone’s start wondering : WHERE DID HE GO AGAIN ? 

And he’ll come back as if nothing happened with some random items he found on the way (bonus : or some random guy he talked with and now they’re buddies ???)

I said he was a runner but it’s because he likes to be chased. He just finds it fun and it becomes sort of a escaping mission in his mind 

(That’s funny because usually you can’t get him to do anything that requires physical investment lol)

If you guys finally catch him and make him stay in sight he’ll just be super friendly 

He’s kind of get "happy drunk" and everything’s seems so funny 

Alcohol really does cloud his judgment so he’ll get some stupid ideas that sounds to him like genius-like behaviours (it’s not, pls stay on your chair dear)

I feel like if he finds a partner in crime, it’s over, he’s out of control (and that might very well be Nathaniel but I’ll go back to it later)

Would dance (pretty badly)

He really can’t sit still for more than two minutes so it’s better if you keep an eye on him at all time (he’s basically the result of if a 9 year-old was drunk which can be as entertaining as it can get exhausting)

Would ‘strategically throw up’ (you know when some people will make themselves throw up when they feel like they’re going to be sick so that they can keep going)

𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕 :

He doesn’t get drunk often (it is actually pretty rare as he said in UL) and he says that it’s because he doesn’t really like the taste of alcohol

However, that’s only one part of the truth, the other part is that he’s out of control when drunk 

Literally, his brain seem to stop cooperating when he reaches a certain point

Will have no filter about what he says (says anything that comes to his mind and that can be problematic)

Could easily get into fights because of that but also because his patience is very thin when drunk. Not that he’ll be looking for a fight but he won’t take any shit (literally the  "fuck around and find out" meme)

Would talk to people then looses patience and leave in the middle of the conversation (then the person in front of him is just like « ??? »)

He’s a flirt x10. He’s a flirt sober but when he’s drunk it’s even worst because as I said, he has no filter anymore

He just seem horny and he's not even subtle about it (if he's here with his partner, he'll want to go have a “talk” at some point and no, drink some water that's for the best)

(Which I believe that back in UL, may have caused some « problematic black-out get with », another reason why he doesn’t like to drink - self awareness king)

Now, I said that Nathaniel could very much end up being Armin’s partner in crime 

I meant it. It’s just that Nathaniel when drunk just wants to have fun and has no patience, Armin on the other end, can’t stay still more than 2 minutes and just wants to mess around so that kinda of a match

Chaotic duo (the chaos is real, if you thought drunk Armin was hard to manage, you don’t want to imagine drunk Nathaniel by his side)

I can picture them doing shots together even though they hate the taste of it (but just for fun you know)

However, you have to admit that despite the chaos they cause (in the limits of the law ofc. Well, most likely hum hum), they are very entertaining 

𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗 :

Clingy drunk. Whether he’s clingy with his girlfriend or his friends, he just can’t help it

It’s not like he’s going to do the emotional speeches and all

It’s more like he’ll randomly hug them. If he’s here with his girl, he always has an arm around her or he’s holding her hand (cute)

If there’s pets where you guys are, you lost him

He’s going to spend the night playing with them (and that way he can avoid talking with the people he doesn’t know, clever)

He would also be the one that want to go on a walk in the middle of the night because why not ? It’s mostly because he wants to get some fresh air (I have the feeling that Kentin wouldn’t feel at his most comfortable in the middle of a party)

He rely on his more extroverted friends to introduce him to other people (because he’d rather don’t to do it on his own)

I think that just like Lysander, Kentin wouldn't really be the type of person to get drunk because he can hardly handle alcohol. Maybe a beer here and there but that’s it. So it got to be a very special occasion for him to get in that state

Would get sleepy from alcohol too

𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚢𝚊 :

She’s the life of the party 

The kind of person that won’t let anyone stay sat for to long and then proceed to drag them to the dance floor 

Also a master at making cocktails and she’ll invent a new recipe by the end of the night with the alcoholic beverages’ leftovers 

(The drink could seem nasty but it’s really good ??? Like how ???)

Would get political if someone brings up the topic

Because you know my girl don’t joke about that 

Really, that could lead to an endless debate about societal issues 

But no matter how drunk she is, she still got that charisma and that eloquence (which I wonder how but I just can’t imagine Priya drunk slurring her words ???) so give it a few moments and she has an audience 

I mean, she could also get an audience while doing karaoke or dancing ‘cause she really has this energy that captivates people 

Great at comforting people who are ‘sad drunk’ or at handling those who are getting out of hand (we can think of the chaotic duo mentioned above)

She knows how to hold her liquor quite well so it’s very rare that she ends up being a mess (queen)

She sounds like so much fun to hang out with honestly 

Priya <3 (we won’t talk about her arc in LL, I am still in denial and I intend to keep gaslighting myself into believing that it never happened)

Hope you guys enjoyed it !

[agendabymooner]

satellite ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“i’m here, right here. wishing i could be there for you.”

summary: when the news of the downfall of her racing journey broke out, max verstappen promised to never let her down like that ever again. (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)

content warning: confrontation and good crying sesh with max and ofc, panic attack, alludes to smut (not graphic), use of explicit language, angst, set in vs fashion show 2016

note: 300 FOLLOWERS?! you guys are insane and i love you all so much!!! thank you!!!

masterlist

[translation: i’m just putting my french fluency into use. thank you paris!]

tagged victoriassecret, steviemarlz

liked by danielricciardo, aimeeyh, max33verstappen

comments have been limited

charles_leclerc such a heartwarming caption from you ❤️

sylvieeford charles leclerc? hardly know her 🤐

landonorris my best friend ate 👏 liked by sylvieeford

sylvieeford thank u best friend

tillymarie ughhh you girls make me proud ❤️ liked by sylvieeford

sylvieeford i’m always eager to please 😍

danielricciardo when the mini boss can do anything >> liked by sylvieeford

sylvieeford call me barbie 😉

max33verstappen what a beaut 😁 liked by sylvieeford

sylvieeford don’t get too soft on me now, caddy 😂

Her standard was Max, and god, did that ever ruin her chance to have a rebound. Whenever she got the chance to go on dates, she seemed to cower from the thought. As if she was worried about not getting along with the said dates.

Speaking of anxiety.

The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show was on the go, and to say that it was nerve wracking would be quite a shame. You would think that she would be alright with walking down the runway now— but to know that some of her peers were here to support her, three days after the last race? Yeah, she might as well shit on her pants. 

She had everyone else to be nervous about; Lady Gaga was there for fucks sake. She was in the same room as Adriana Lima and Elsa Hosk. Hell, even Abel would be performing during her segment— why was she nervous about seeing her driver friends while she walked down the runway? 

She supposed that no one had seen her pose in her underwear before. That, and that they all grew up with her— it was weird to see your childhood friend all grown up, dressed in lingerie and nothing else. 

Not that Max Verstappen hadn’t seen that months ago. 

Fuck, Max was going to be there! 

She knew she was nervous. She just didn’t realize that it was because of him. Why would she be nervous? After all, working together had a major effect on their relationship. And… sleeping together once. 

Because he didn’t bring it up anymore after their conversation that day. He was friendly with her, but not once did he mention that he wanted to do it again. She wasn’t sure if it was because of their workplace relationship or their general friendship, but she was sure as hell that it hurt. Not that she would ever tell him that. Not especially after she found a woman clinging to him at their next race’s afterparty. 

So it did hurt. But as a prideful daughter of a miserable mother, she kept a straight face and smiled at everyone. 

After seeing him that night, she kept their relationship as civil as it could be— only listening to him “Maxplain” everything he could speak about, and offering him advice whenever he needed it. She failed to mention a lot of things in her life— like how Abel was performing tonight. Max only found out through their friends hours prior to the event and while it pissed him off to no end, he couldn’t afford to upset Sylvie on her special day. This was her day after all. She was debuting as a VS model. 

Tilly and Aimee had managed to see Sylvie and Stevie before the show as they prepared. They had mostly spoken about how they were able to get to the location easily and how Soren fussed when Tilly left him at Toto’s watch. 

“The boys are there,” Aimee pointed her head towards the direction of the audience, “I told them not to be foolish this time around.”

“Did you tell them to behave and not bark?” Stevie giggled, making Sylvie cackle. Sylvie’s makeup artist shot her a warning to not ruin her makeup by crying in laughter. 

“They know not to,” Tilly rolled her eyes, “those men have PR managers to answer to otherwise.” 

“I think George and Alex were only there chilling,” Aimee said, “I didn’t think someone could have anxiety even if they’re just an audience— not until I saw Max.” 

“Max? Why?” Now that piqued Sylvie’s curiosity.

Tilly answered, “I dunno. It must’ve been the adrenaline from Abu Dhabi, if you were to ask me. He’ll be fine once the show starts.” 

The beating of her heart slowed down when her segment started, only focusing on the front and had only given Abel a look of indifference before making her way through the middle, posing with her head tilting slightly to the right. Walking back, she glanced on her right and watched Max’s eyes stare at hers. 

She kept her head in his direction for a moment, not even realizing that she walked past Abel as her ears muted his song and voice, only paying attention to Max before looking back in front of her and walking off. 

Max knew that she had seen him with his not-really-girlfriend in each race, and it was extremely stupid of him. Rebounds shouldn’t be a thing at all, he told himself. He knew how he felt about her, yet after spending some time with her in a bedroom, he seemed to chicken out and not tell her about the love he had for her.

He always wondered how she went from insulting him jokingly to having a civil conversation and agreeing to everything he said. It was wrong. Why didn’t she say something about it? They agreed not to lie to each other, did they not? 

He seemed to feel like a hypocrite just saying that. But he was more than willing to admit that she was just as beautiful as she was before. He only started to feel different when they shared an intimate moment with each other, one that he’d like to relive for as long as he could breathe.

But they weren’t even aware that admitting would have to take time. After all, there were more problems to solve. 

Partying had never been a priority for her, if you were to ask, but Kendall insisted that Sylvie come along before the younger girl could even dive headfirst into her work throughout their break. The third Hearth daughter only nodded and dressed up as nicely as she could, only deciding that she would only drink one glass of daiquiri. What she didn’t know, however, was that Kendall had invited her guy friends to join them at the party. She had never felt so annoyed— why wouldn’t Kendall tell her in the first place that she’d invite them? Not that she wasn’t enthralled at the thought. Some warning would have sufficed. 

But it wasn’t their presence that made her want to go home. 

Everyone was too busy dancing to even sit in their booth, leaving Sylvie behind while she scrolled through her Twitter. She liked the peaceful atmosphere that the club could offer in a booth. And her blocking Abel was definitely something. 

Her eyes found a tweet that left her blood running cold. No.

“Sylvie’s Failed F1 Career: Explained”

From top to bottom, the story of her discontinued journey in Formula One was splayed out in a gossip website— a rather accredited one, while you’re at it. People would normally say not to believe what you see on the internet, but the truth was published and spread in the Formula One community and show business. 

Nobody knew what had happened before. Not until now. Whoever the fuck were these anonymous sources, they were nothing but assholes. Everything in the article was detailed from head to toe. Some stuff that people didn’t know were put up for everyone to see and shame her with.

Then panic started to spread across her body, her feet stumbling up as she marched down towards the dance floor, her hand gripping on Max’s shirt as she dragged him to a seedy area of the club no one had ever stepped foot on. 

“Mustang, what—“

“Cut the bullshit, Max,” she spewed out venomously before she shoved her phone in his hand. “Did you do this?” 

His eyes peered down on the article on screen as they widened. He looked up to see her teary eyes appearing once more. 

“No,” he answered honestly, but she wasn’t having it.

“You knew what happened, you’re the one who reported me, Max,” she cried out, her body shaking in anger and panic as she continued, “you saw that. You told the officials—“

“But that doesn’t mean I would fuck your career over!” Max exclaimed in frustration. “I told you that if you had somehow given me a heads up that they were kicking you out, I would have gone back and made them review it. Me not being there when you were being questioned was the biggest mistake I’ve made, because I know you. You’re honest. I would’ve known. I would’ve admitted that I was wrong if I heard you speak for yourself.”

“Then why do this? If you respect me then why do this now?”

“Sylvie, schatje,” he took a deep breath before looking at her again, “I would not— for the life of me— treat you like that. God, I would never forgive myself if I did. So I swear that isn’t me.” 

He didn’t even realize how bad their situation was until she started crying and crumbling in his arms, the music still tampering with the hysterical sound of her sobs. He tried to comfort her right there, but the loudness of the club only messed with both of their emotions and anxiety as he picked up their stuff and hailed for a cab. 

It didn’t take him long to find his room as she continued to cry in his arms. She spoke about her worries about her career as she sobbed, not wanting to lose her job in Red Bull and as a model because of this disaster they both called a lie. How was she going to explain all of this to her family? She asked herself as she sniffled, wiping her tears away. She hadn’t even realized that Max was crying too. 

All of this happened because he believed his friends who couldn’t give anymore shit about him. All of this happened to her because of him. All he could do now was apologize with tears. 

“I- I- I’ll do my best to fix this,” Max stammered, wiping his tears away to hide it away from her as she looked up. “Let me please help you fix this. This was my doing and I- I can’t hurt you like this, Sylv. I can’t afford to have you lose your career because of me. Just… please, forgive me and let me help.” 

“Please, Max,” she whispered. “I can’t be silenced anymore, Max. I- I need someone to speak for me.” 

“We’ll be speaking for you,” Max promised, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’ll… I don’t care if it ruins my own career, I just know yours cannot be ruined because of me. I’ll be here for you, schatje. Just have me.”

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

i headcannon that benny and reader blast rihanna while closing the gym. it becomes a tradition that they blast music and dance around while closing. it gets to the point that the boys start wondering why benny keeps being late to their hangouts after his work. at some point they catch benny blowing his back out and reader recording and laughing at benny

Benny, Better Have My Money

Chapter Five | Drabble for the Through the Scope series | Chapter Six

*best read in between chapter 5 & 6*

Rating: IDK ?? everyone ??

Word Count: 1029

TW: tooth rotting friend fluff w/ Benny & some ass throwing ?!?!

Notes: anon, i wish i could kiss that beautiful brain of yours for thinking of this absolutely fucking hilarious scene thats now 100% canon in the through the scope series to me HAHAHA !! i hope i did some justice to your brilliant idea & thank u so so much for submitting it ((: this one is for u ! happy reading <3

*i wrote this w/o looking over it because the idea was just to good so if you see any grammatical errors.. no you dont*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Closing up after a long shift was never fun. Well, it was never fun until you started working for Benny. After the last guests were ushered out and the doors were locked, you were put in charge of the gyms music. It was only fair since Benny had free reign during operating hours after all. Plus, your taste in music wasn’t exactly family friendly. 

“Alright, what are we feeling this evening? Lady Gaga? Megan Thee Stallion? Doja Cat? Maybe some Rico Nasty? What artist really says ‘I want to clean this whole gym and look hot while doing it’ to you?” 

“The evening song choices are all yours. I’m way too tired to even think about makin’ another decision right now.”

“Well,” You say as you start scrolling through artists on his phone to find one that will bring the energy that both of you need to get this done. “If you’re so tired, why are you going out with the guys after this?” 

“You know that doesn’t count.” He’s currently working his way through cloroxing all the workout benches and weights. “The only decision I have to make when I’m there is if I want another drink or not and that's easy. Of course I want another fuckin’ drink!” 

“Touché,” You laugh as you find the perfect playlist for the evening. “Let’s get this cleaning party started!” 

Rhianna’s Bitch Better Have My Money starts blasting at full volume from the gym's speakers as you make your way over to the basket full of used towels. 

Bitch, better have my money

Y’all should know me well enough

Bitch, better have my money

Please don’t call me on my bluff

Pay me what you owe me

“Oh fuck yeah! I love Rhianna!” He yells as he turns to you. 

You pull out a towel, point to him from across the gym, and start swinging it over your head as you lip sync to the song playing. 

Kamikaze if you think that you gon’ knock me of the top

Shit, your wife in the back seat of my brand new foreign car

Don’t act like you forgot

I call the shot, shot, shots.

Benny makes finger guns and pretends to fire them at you on each beat. “Sing it, girl!”

The two of you run dramatically to each other in the middle of the gym and start dancing like crazed animals. Each of your tasks having been long forgotten as soon as the music started. You both know by now that neither one of you will be leaving anytime soon.

***

“Where the fuck is your brother, Will?” Pope huffs.

Frankie, Pope, and Will have all been waiting at their table for Benny to show up for 45 minutes now. They turned the waitress away three times before they caved and ordered a round for themselves. Hoping that a light buzz would satiate them.

“I’ve been texting him, but he’s not answerin’!” Will explains. “His location says that he’s still at the gym.” He turns his phone screen over to show the others.

“This is the third time this week that he’s been late. He’s never taken this long to close up before.” Frankie adds. 

Pope tips his almost empty beer bottle in his direction and nods. “Fuck this. Finish y’alls drinks and let's go pay him a visit.”

They all do as Pope orders and make their way out of the bar. As they cross the street and enter the gym’s parking lot they see both yours and Benny’s cars in the same spots that they were in this morning. All of the lights in the building are still on as well. 

“Do y’all hear that?” Frankie asks the men walking next to him. “It sounds like -”

“Rhianna?” Pope says curiously. 

All three of them walk up to the gym doors and the sight that greets them will be burned into each and every one of their minds for all eternity. 

***

You’re currently holding onto one of the corner poles from the boxing ring with both hands and trying to explain to Benny how to shake his ass.

“Move your hips to the right, then the left, then shimmy down, and use your knees to help you bring your ass up and down!” You’re winded from both teaching your lesson and singing with Benny for almost an hour straight. It also doesn’t help that you’re trying to yell instructions over Rhianna’s S&M song.

“I think I got it now! Let me try!” 

He helps you down so he can climb up and get into position. You pick up your towel and phone off a nearby workout bench. There is no way that you aren’t going to document this moment.

‘Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it

Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it

Stick and stone may break my bones

“But chains and whips excite me!” You and Benny sing together.

You are struggling to hold your phone still as you record because you can’t stop laughing. Benny is throwing everything, and you mean everything, into his one man performance on the edge of the boxing ring. He definitely paid attention to what you showed him. Even put his own little twist on it by bringing his right hand back to slap his ass. You can’t help but get swept away in it all and you start hitting him in the ass with your towel as well.

“Let’s go, Benny! Shake that shit for me!” Your lungs threaten to burst from over exhaustion. 

S-S-S&M-M-M

S-S-S&M-M-M

Oh, I love the feeling you bring to me

Oh, you turn me on

***

“Should we tell them we are here?” Will ask hesitantly, still not entirely sure what he’s watching.

“I’m not even sure what we would say if we told them.” Frankie quips as he wishes you would get back up and dance again. “Pope?”

He looks to his left and sees him pulling up your contact information. “Let’s tell them that their audience wants an encore.” Pope presses ‘call’ and puts the phone to his ear with a devious grin.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity  @mxtokko  @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 }

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper, Olivia and the Beaumonts arrive in Rome... but not everyone is happy to see them

Word Count: 5,300

Rating/Warnings: None (for once 🤣)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Lots of Italian and random cultural/historical tidbits in this... but, then again, we are in Italy, so the foreign language aspect will be a bit of a running theme through the next few chapters (sorry...not sorry - I actually learnt some Italian in the process!)

A/N2: @aussiegurl1234, before you ask, yes, I HC that Vito bears a striking resemblance to Michele Morrone 😆

Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

"How is it hotter here than in Cordonia?" I gasp as I step out onto the jet's airstairs.

"Italy is a peninsula," Olivia says from behind me, slotting on a pair of Versace cat-eye shades. "It is more exposed to the anti-cyclones that blow up from the Sahara."

My mouth drops as I make my way down onto the steaming tarmac. "This heatwave... is coming from Africa?"

No wonder it feels like the inside of a furnace!

"It certainly isn't coming from the Arctic!" bemoans Bertrand as he shields his face from the intensity of the rays with an upraised hand. "Though what a welcome change that would be!"

"Brr...!" objects Maxwell with a shiver. "No thank you! I've had my yearly fill of sub-zero temps at Olivia's!"

"You're welcome," comes the snippy response as the Duchess of Lythikos strides past us.

"That said, turning the mercury down a few notches wouldn't hurt..." I remark, squinting accusatorily up at the beating sun.

"The summer heatwaves have been growing longer and more intense over recent years," Olivia advises from up front, "leading to consequent effects on food and water security, power generation, infrastructure, not to mention the added burden on the healthcare system across Europe. It is one of the items on the agenda for Christian's roundtable with the Italian Prime Minister tomorrow."

I frown as I arrive at the passenger-side door of the first in a trio of waiting Porsche Macan GTS's. "I thought this was supposed to be an engagement tour..."

"It is," she confirms as a black-suited Italian sporting close-cropped hair and aviators opens the door for her. "But any foreign visit involving a high-ranking head of state is — by its nature — a diplomatic event as well."

"I guess that makes sense," I concede, sliding into the relative reprieve offered by the SUV's A/C system. "Though you said Christian is meeting with the Prime Minister tomorrow... I thought that was supposed to be today. Did something change?"

"No," derides Bertrand as he settles in next to me. "Today, the King is partaking in a meet-and-greet with the Italian President, followed by a private audience with the Pope while the future Queen is fitted for her wedding trousseau, capped off by dinner and a performance of Tosca at the Teatro dell'Opera in the evening. While tomorrow we have been invited to brunch at the Cordonian Consulate, after which the King has a round-table discussion with the Prime Minister, and day will be closed out by a state gala."

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly. "So, the Prime Minister isn't the same as the President...?"

"The Prime Minister is the head of government, while the President is the head of state," the elder Beaumont instructs as Maxwell squishes himself into the backseat on the other side of me. "The roles are quite distinct."

"Of course they are..." I huff under my breath.

Seems like in addition to Olivia's list of influential Cordonian nobles, I will also need to memorise a textbook on European constitutional history...

Though, now I am doubly glad of the business-like, but nevertheless stylish pale pink, high-necked pencil dress that Bertrand foisted on me this morning — it definitely would not have been great to show up underdressed to such a high-level meeting!

"But we must hurry!" the elder Beaumont proclaims. "We are due at the Presidential Palace in just under an hour, and we still need to fight our way through the notoriously infernal Roman traffic!"

"Not to worry," Olivia assures us with a sly smirk from the front passenger seat. "Vito here knows all the shortcuts."

"That sounds ominous..." I mutter, reaching for the seatbelt on instinct.

"I prefer 'expeditious'," she counters, turning to Vito, who has now taken up position behind the wheel. "Andiamo."

"Certamente, Duchessa," he nods, throwing the car forward with a violent depression of the gas pedal.

The sudden acceleration yanks an inadvertent gasp from my lips as I'm thrown back in my seat... just like on that afternoon in Ramsford when Drake pulled the same stunt on the Beaumonts' driveway.

I feel my throat tighten as I glance inadvertently out the window. God, I hope he's okay...

I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably making myself anxious for no reason. Drake is an adult, perfectly capable of taking care of himself... including in close-quarters situations. He's demonstrated that to me plenty of times.

Yet, I still can't help but worry about him. Especially when he's off in a foreign country (all by himself for all I know...), having left with basically no good-bye, and with definitely no assurance of when he expects to get back.

And while I know that he is doing this for me — so we can collar Tariq and extract whatever information he has in relation to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season... and to answer for what he did to me in Applewood — the wait is killing me. I have no idea where he is, what he is doing, and whether he even has his phone turned on, given the high-stakes nature of his self-appointed task.

Which is why I have held off trying to reach out to him (...even though the baser, needier part of me is itching to do exactly that), as I don't want to be the one to interrupt a crucial moment by setting his phone off with an ill-timed call or text, especially considering the three-hour time difference...

I heave a breath.

I just have to trust him. Like he asked me to at every turn of this increasingly bumpy road that we've been travelling since I left New York. And hope that we are finally on our way out of the woods.

Exiting the boundaries of the airport, Vito navigates the Porsche onto a highway where we are able to pick up some speed. Olivia uses the opportunity to open up her phone, throwing some questions in Italian to her associate every so often as we cruise along. Bertrand is similarly occupied, while Maxwell has slipped on some Bose headphones and is bobbing away to the beat.

Which leaves me to stare somewhat aimlessly out the window, watching the scenery roll by in a bid to keep myself distracted.

But the reprieve ends up being somewhat of a welcome one. The various warehouses and road-side auto lots surrounding the airport quickly give way to a tree-lined thoroughfare, and I find myself basking in the calming effects of the greenery, not having expected to encounter such a bucolic sight on the road to a major urban centre.

Eventually, though, the vegetation gives way to the crumbling walls of some kind of expansive estate that we end up following for a good few miles until the asphalt road changes over to cobblestones and we pass in front the gates of a red-bricked stone fortress that looks like it's been plucked straight from the set of Game of Thrones.

"Wow..." I can't help but breathe as I take in the sight of the towering structure simmering under the light of the mid-morning sun.

"Le mura aureliane," advises Vito from up front, catching my awed expression through the rear-view mirror. "Costruita dall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari."

I nod distractedly, craning my neck as we turn a corner to follow the path of the ancient structure that is somehow still standing despite the clear ravages of time and weather.

Nothing lasts like this anymore...

Making another turn, we pass beneath an arched portion of the wall, and the road before us opens up into a leafy boulevard that takes us into the city proper. And from there, it's one jaw-dropping piece of architecture after another jostling for space between more modern buildings and seemingly never-ending rows of trees.

"I didn't expect Rome to be so green..." I admit to no one in particular as I eye up the unusual-looking shrubs.

"You can thank the Ancient Romans," supplies Bertrand without glancing up from his phone. "They planted the now-iconic stone pines in scores along the major roadways in part to serve as ornamentation, and in part to provide a steady supply of pine nuts, which are an essential ingredient in many dishes, including pesto and various pies and tarts."

"It certainly was worth the effort," I agree, watching the evergreens drift past on either side of us.

Though, as Bertrand predicted, the closer we get to the centre of the ancient capital, the increasingly chaotic the traffic becomes, with cars, buses and mopeds all vying for space on the roads, requiring Vito to make recourse to his own horn as well as various offensive gestures in order to narrowly avoid a slew of accidents... and I suddenly have a slightly better appreciation for why Drake drives the way he does. Because based on my experiences first in France and now in Italy, it appears that on the Mediterranean, might equals right when it comes to priority on the road, and unless you're forceful, you ain't getting nowhere.

Managing to finally extricate ourselves from the constraints of a complicated intersection, we end up on a quieter road running parallel to a long patch of bunkered-looking grass on our left.

"What's that?" I ask, tapping Vito on his shoulder.

"Il Circo Massimo," he advises.

My eyes widen. "That's the Circus Maximus?"

"Sì," he nods. "L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corse dei carri."

"Unbelievable..." I murmur, slumping back into my seat in awe.

There is nothing comparable back home — even the oldest still-extant pre-Columbian structures date to only the first millennia A.D. Whereas here we are, casually cruising past a seminal piece of history that is still embedded into the fabric of the city nearly three thousand years after its construction. And we haven't even seen the Colosseum, or the Forum yet!

Rome really is the Eternal City...

Leaving the green fields of the Circus behind us, we enter a more urban-looking environment as we start to climb a hill. The white- and sand-coloured buildings cluster closer together, and the general architecture becomes more uniformly Baroque, until we arrive in a large plaza dominated by a massive, Neo-Classical structure that towers over everything else.

"Il Vittoriano," Vito offers without prompting.

"Is that where we're having brunch with the President?" I ask, slack-mouthed as I stare up at the imposing building.

It certainly looks impressive enough to house the head of a country!

"Of course not!" admonishes Bertrand. "The Vittoriano is a symbolic collection of monuments built to commemorate the rule of King Victor Emmanuel II and the unification of Italy. The President resides at the Quirinal Palace, which is located on a wholly different Roman hill!"

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly.

"Like she is going to know the difference," scoffs Oliva from the front. "They don't even teach The Art of War in her schools... How can you expect her to know anything about Italian history?"

"Italian history is foundational history!" insists Bertrand. "The Romans were instrumental in shaping not just the course of European, but Northern African and Middle Eastern events for millennia! How can they neglect to teach American children about this?"

"Because the focus is on US history," I tell them wearily as Vito navigates us to the other side of the square.

"Surely that is an afternoon's worth of lessons at most?" the elder Beaumont queries sceptically. "Your country was only founded in the conventional sense of the word in the mid-1600s..."

"Most Americans haven't been to Europe," I remind him, watching the rows of buildings flick past on either side of us as we begin the ascent up another hill. "They don't necessarily have a basis of comparison."

"Sounds like your curriculum is somewhat lacking in scope, then..." he surmises with pursed lips.

"Yeah, well..." I retort dryly, "I don't write the textbooks. Though, speaking of education, is there any chance for some sightseeing? It would be a shame to spend two days here and not actually see anything..."

"While I wholeheartedly approve of the sentiment," Bertrand replies, "I am afraid that you will have to make do with the cultural experiences offered by the various host venues on the official itinerary. Which — I admit — are no Pantheon, or Sistine Chapel, but are impressive and important cultural artefacts, nevertheless. The Quirinal Palace, for instance, so named for the Quirinal Hill on which it sits, is actually the sixth largest palace in the world and has served as the primary residence of such notable figures as—"

I let out a low exhale as Bertrand launches into a full-blown historical recital. And while the details are definitely interesting, I didn't come all this way to listen to a one-man rendition of a Roman guidebook.

Which makes me all the more determined to find some kind of opportunity to slip away from the official tour — even if it's just for an hour to toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain — so that I can experience something of the magic that this breathtaking city has to offer.

When, I have no idea, given the busyness of our schedule, but I managed to orchestrate an escape plan to see the capital back in Cordonia, so I'm confident I'll be able to pull something similar... albeit without Drake's help this time. But despite the set-backs, I'm not about to miss out on this kind of once-in-a-lifetime experience...

With my intention firmly set, the car rounds an uphill corner, and we are suddenly on the edge of yet another expansive plaza secured by a rim of strategically placed concrete planters and a pair of police cars.

Vito pulls to a stop and slides the window down to exchange a few quick words with the officer who has come to greet us.

"Passports," instructs Olivia, reaching into her purse.

Opening up the white, Medusa emblazoned Versace clutch sitting on my lap — which I am sure cost more than what I would've ever made in a month working as a waitress back home, but which Bertrand had insisted on as a 'necessary' Italian-themed accessory — I pull out my shiny, new Cordonian passport and pass it to the front.

Maxwell and Bertrand do the same, and there is a couple of minutes of tense silence while the stern-looking officer inspects each document to verify our identities, while another policeman does a circuit 'round the car with a convex safety mirror.

Finally, the policeman hands the passports back with a curt nod, and waves us through.

"Were they not expecting us?" I query as I slot my credentials away again.

"They were," Olivia advises. "But we are arriving separately from the royal delegation, so the State Police are obligated to run a security check."

"Why?"

The Duchess of Lythikos scoffs back at me. "To ensure that we are not terrorists trying to kill the President with a car bomb... Or did that part go over your head?"

"No..." I hit back sarcastically. "I meant why are we arriving separately?"

She looks back at me with an arched brow. "Would you have preferred to deal with the press?"

"I... No," I admit.

She turns back to the front with a smirk. "Didn't think so."

Vito pulls the car to a stop in front of a small courtyard decked out with a red carpet and intertwined streamers made out in the colours of Cordonia's and Italy's flags. Allard and Schweitzer — who had been travelling in the car behind us — appear to open the doors for us.

Bertrand scoots out of the backseat first, before turning back to offer me his hand.

"Thanks," I say with a sincere smile, grasping his fingers to help pull myself up.

"Always my pleasure," he replies with a genuine smile.

Smoothing my skirt, I gaze up at the somewhat understated-looking entranceway, suddenly nervous about the prospect of acting as a newly-minted ambassador of Cordonia. I mean... three months ago, I was bussing tables at a dive bar for less than minimum wage, and now here I am, decked out in clothes that cost more than the rent I was paying for a fifth-storey walk-up, about to have an official meeting with a foreign country's head of state.

To say that I feel like a fraud is a massive understatement.

"What are you waiting for?" asks Olivia, breezing past me with all the confidence of a woman who's done this a hundred times before... probably because she has. "For the grass to grow?"

"I—"

"I heard the President loves chocolate bomboloni," offers Maxwell enthusiastically, linking his arm through mine to tug me down the length of the red carpet.

"What's...that?" I ask, forcing myself to swallow down the sudden dryness in my throat.

Maxwell's face collapses into an aghast look of shock. "Only the best pastry-based dessert! Second only to cronuts, of course!"

"That's definitely a high bar to hit," I admit.

"Think mini doughnuts with gooey chocolate filling, dusted with powdered sugar," he explains. "They literally melt in your mouth!"

"Except we are not here to indulge infantile cravings for sugary treats," reprimands Bertrand as we pass through the arched doorway. "We are here to partake in important discussions relating to matters of state, and t—"

"Pfft," scoffs Olivia. "Speak for yourself, Beaumont. These meetings are dull as shite. I'm here for the sweets."

I can't help but snort at the unexpected riposte... as well as the resultant sight of Bertrand's jaw hitting the parquet flooring. And I unexpectedly find myself feeling better about the whole experience. Because despite whatever nerves I may be feeling, the fact that Olivia and the Beaumonts are with me means that I am not alone in this.

Passing into the coolness of the building, we are greeted by a middle-aged woman who proceeds to lead us through a veritable rabbit warren of ante-rooms and corridors before we finally arrive in an expansive room dominated by a pair of jaw-dropping crystal chandeliers suspended from a vaulted, hand-painted ceiling.

"La Salle Bronzino," informs our guide, indicating that we should step through.

"Wow..." I breathe, trying to take in the opulence with as much composure as I can.

A slew of camera shutters click to life upon our arrival.

Jerking my gaze down from the delicate, celestial fresco above me, I spot the handful of photographers aiming their lenses at me.

I stifle a groan as I plaster a demure smile onto my face. "I thought you said there wouldn't be any reporters."

"This is an official state visit," Bertrand hisses out of the corner of his mouth. "Of course, there will be reporters!

"Just not as many as there would have been outside earlier," Olivia assures me.

My shoulders slump in acquiescence. "Take the wins you can get, I guess..."

"Ah, you made it!" exclaims Christian, striding up to us with a jovial grin. "Traffic wasn't too terrible, I hope?"

"Nothing Vito couldn't handle," Olivia assures him, dipping into a chaste curtesy as the photographers snap eagerly away.

Christian turns to me with a good-natured chuckle. "And Lady Harper... First impressions haven't put you off, have they?"

"No," I assure him, bobbing down politely as well, knowing that everyone in the room now has their eyes on us. "The exact opposite, actually."

"Excellent," he beams, holding my gaze for a second longer than he did with Olivia. "I have to admit that I have a bit of a soft spot for Rome, myself."

"It really is a—"

"Darling," interjects Madeleine with a steely smile, appearing at her fiancé's shoulder. "You really should focus your attentions on the President. He has been gracious enough to open up his home for us, after all..."

Christian's nostrils flare with the briefest flash of irritation as he pulls back slightly. "Quite. Let us go make the necessary introductions."

Madeleine bristles. "That is not what I—"

Deftly ignoring her, Christian extends his arm decisively towards an elderly man wearing a sombre suit and gold-rimmed glasses. "Shall we?"

"I guess so?" I concede, already feeling myself being steered past the silently fuming countess.

"Now remember," Bertrand mutters next to me as Christian leads us down the length of the room. "In the context of a formal conversation, it is always lei — never tu — when addressing your counterpart, so for the love of all that is holy, please do not—"

"Singor Presidente," proclaims Christian as he pulls to a stop. "Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione."

The President raises his head dutifully. "Certamente."

"Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell."

The Beaumonts bow their heads dutifully.

"Beaumont..." the President frowns. "Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso?"

"Sì," Bertrand confirms. "Egli è nostro padre."

The President is nodding in recollection. "Sì... sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui."

"Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte," Bertrand acknowledges.

"E questa è Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos, un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys."

Olivia holds out her hand. "E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente."

The President drops a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. "Il piacere è tutto mio."

"E finalmente," concludes Christian, "questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria."

The President's brows arc inquisitively. "Singorina Harper... You are... American? No?"

"Sì," I affirm as I offer my hand out. "Ma ho praticato mio Italiano..."

The President's mouth cracks into a genuine smile. "And you are doing very well, Singorina! Tell me, have you visited la città eterna before?"

"No, this is my first time," I admit, also switching to English, now that the formalities are over and done with. "But even the ride from the airport was utterly magical! It's like stepping into history!"

"Sì," the President affirms with a grin. "Us Romans are unspeakably lucky to be able to call such a beautiful city our home. It is a place of many treasures."

"What is your favourite part of the city?" I ask.

The President blinks in surprise at the unexpected intimacy of the request. "That is a difficult question... But if I am forced to choose... it would have to be this little forno next to la Fontana di Trevi which makes a very unique — and very delicious — pistachio croissant. It is not for every person, but if you have a spirit of adventure, then I suggest you try it."

"Thank you," I say with a sincere smile, filing the suggestion away. "I definitely will!"

"I cannot say that I have had the pleasure of sampling this treat, either," Christian admits, with a knowing glance down at me. "But Lady Harper has excellent taste in pastries — she was actually kind enough to introduce us to an American delicacy called a cronut. It was a big hit all around."

"A cronut?" queries the President. "I cannot say I am familiar..."

"Don't worry," Maxwell assures him with a conspiratorial grin. "We'll bring you one. If you'll trade us some bomboloni in exchange?"

Bertrand's already sunburnt face reddens further. "Maxwell! You cannot entreat the President t—"

"You like bomboloni, also?" interjects the President with keen interest.

"Of course!" Maxwell affirms enthusiastically. "Anyone who doesn't like them clearly has something wrong with them!"

"Sounds like you have excellent taste in pastries as well, Signore Maxwell!" chuckles the President.

The conversation continues to revolve around our shared food interests for a few more minutes, until an aide clears his throat from behind the President.

"Accettare le mie scuse," he apologises. "But I am being advised that it is time for the photographs and the speeches."

"Of course," nods Christian graciously, indicating that the President should lead the way to the front of the room where a small podium has been set up.

As the two men peel away from the group, I cast my eyes 'round the space and spot Hana standing by one of the large windows. Giving her a wave, I use the brief break in the proceedings to make my way over to her.

"So, what's the view like from this side of the room?" I ask by way of greeting.

"Quieter than your side," she admits wryly. "You certainly seemed to be having an engaging conversation with the President!"

"We discovered a shared love for sugary treats," I admit. "You should've joined us — you could've bragged about that baking championship that you won."

"It's alright," she demurs with a blush. "It's actually been nice to take a moment to step away from the crowd."

"Oh?" I ask, laying a concerned hand on her arm. "Is something wrong?"

She heaves a breath, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she says, "I have been fending off suitors."

My brow shoots skywards. "How many proposals have you had?"

"Since I arrived...? Probably twelve..."

My eyes bulge. "Twelve! That's like two a day!"

"Yes," she concedes with a weary exhale. "Lady Madeleine has been extremely gracious in personally introducing me to numerous eligible bachelors—"

"—but none of them are Maxwell," I surmise.

Her eyes flick up to mine before dropping back down sorrowfully. "No. But for the sake of my parents, I must entertain every available option in an honest manner."

"That definitely sounds exhausting..." I concede. "But hopefully now that we're out of the country, you can catch a bit of a break."

"I am not so sure..." she admits. "I have been advised that a number of well-connected Italians will be in attendance at the opera tonight..."

"Pfft...!" I scoff. "Just take the night off... Pretend to be sick... Run off with Maxwell to get some gelato... Actually enjoy being in Italy!"

Hana blushes. "I—"

The chime of a bell rings out across the room, interrupting our conversation.

Looking up, I see that all heads have turned dutifully towards the twin forms standing on the dais as they prepare to address the congregation.

"Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori," greets the President, "È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazione reale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. È passato troppo tempo da—"

As the speech winds on, I find myself tuning out, given that I am only able to understand every third or fourth word. But, not wanting to come across as rude by continuing my catch-up with Hana, I instead try to occupy myself by examining the two large tapestries suspended on the walls.

A round of applause draws me out of my reverie, and I join in on auto-pilot as the President hands off to Christian. Several more minutes of lilting Italian fills the room, during which time I move my attentions to the Roman-looking busts, wondering which emperors they depict.

Finally, the speeches come to a close, and I heave a sigh of relief.

"Did you understand any of that?" I ask Hana as the President presents Christian with some kind of medal, and the two men pose for photos.

"Of course," she nods. "My parents—"

"—have been giving you Italian lessons since before you could talk?" I finish dryly.

Hana's cheeks dimple. "Not quite that young, but yes. I am what they consider 'proficient'."

"Meaning, you speak it better than I speak English," I joke.

She snorts in response. "I wouldn't say that..."

"But it's true," I say with a smirk, happy to see that Hana's time back at court has not completely crushed her sense of humour.

"Ah, I've missed talking to you, Harper," she says with genuine feeling. "The last few days have felt so busy that I feel like we haven't spoken in months!"

"Yeah, tell me about it..." I agree with a huff. "In the space of a week, I've become a Cordonian citizen, been granted a duchy, gone from number five to number one on Madeleine's shit list, and—"

Hana's eyes widen. "It's not that bad, surely...!"

"It's probably worse," I admit. "And being on the front page of the Cordonian Sun — again — is probably not helping matters either..."

"Yes, I saw that article..." she commiserates with feeling. "I'm sorry that the press are treating you in that manner again."

"Hey, it's not your fault," I assure her. "But the press aren't all bad — I managed to convince Ana de Luca to help us track down the photographer who took those pictures of me and Tariq, and she actually came through yesterday."

"That's great!" she enthuses. "I have to admit that I have not had much success on my side... Madeleine does not permit her ladies-in-waiting to handle any of her private correspondence, including her mobile phones and laptop. And she has only talked to us about the upcoming events on the tour..."

"Well, it was a bit of a long-shot, anyway," I concede with a shrug. "But who knows? We might get—"

"Pardon," interrupts Kiara with a pointed cough. "But the Queen requests your presence."

I roll my eyes with a scoff. "She's not married to Christian yet..."

"But she will be soon," she reminds me pointedly. "So, it is actuellement in your interest to remain on her good side, given that you are now a duchess."

I feel the corner of my mouth scrunch into a mou of dissent, but I force myself not to pick apart the many things that are wrong with her statement. "Fine. Where is Her Majesty?"

"Bidding adieu to the President," she advises. "She has asked that in the meantime I gather the ladies who are to accompany her to the wedding boutique."

"Does she really need an entourage to go shopping?" I ask as we start making our way back to the double doors at the far end of the room.

"It is tradition for the suitors who were not picked at the end of the social season to assist the queen-to-be in the preparations for the wedding, including selecting her bridal gown and trousseau."

"Wonder how many times that's gone wrong before..." I mutter under my breath.

"It is a ritual de beaucoup d'importance," Kiara insists seriously. "The former suitors — and their families — demonstrate their public support for the union via the personal assistance they provide the bride and groom in the lead-up to the big day, as well as in the act of taking on key roles during the ceremony itself."

"Let me guess..." I grumble. "We're all going to be maids of honour, too..."

"In Cordonia, the correct term is 'witness'," she corrects. "They are the ones chosen by the couple to countersign the marriage certificate. Mais oui — it is likely that one or two of us will be called upon in such a manner."

"Great..." I sigh, arriving at the entranceway where Penelope and Olivia are already waiting. "All the things we get to look forward to..."

"Oh, Lady Harper!" squeals Penelope in excitement. "I love your dress! How do you always manage to find such super chic pieces?"

"Uhh..." I say, genuinely taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Bertrand picked this, actually..."

Olivia snorts derisively. "You mean Lord Tweedle-Dee? Please... That man has worse fashion sense than Jared Leto."

"Actually, he—"

"If you lot are quite finished with your asinine chit-chit," snaps Madeline as she strides imperiously past us, "you can pick up your feet. We are already running late for my appointment... Which took months to schedule, so don't you dare make me miss it!"

I meet Hana's gaze with a fish-eyed look. "Ever heard the term 'bridezilla' before?"

"No," she admits with a frown. "But it sounds scary..."

"Oh, trust me!" I assure her as we bring up the rear. "It is! Especially since it sounds like Madeleine is planning to take the concept to a whole 'nother level..."

The story continues in Chapter 19: Field Day

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

At the airport: Andiamo - Let's go

Certamente, Duchessa - Certainly, Duchess

En route Lemura aureliane. Costruitadall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari. - The Aurelian Wall. It was constructed by the Emperor Aurelian to defend Rome against barbarians.

Il Circo Massimo - The Circus Maximus

Sì. L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corsedei carri. - Yes. The ancient Roman stadium constructed for chariot racing.

Il Vittoriano - This is a colloquial nickname for the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II

At the Presidential Palace Singor Presidente. Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione. - Mr President. Allow me to introduce some additional members of our delegation.

Certamente - Certainly

Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell. - This is Lord Bertrand Beaumont, Duke of Ramsford, and his brother, Maxwell.

Beaumont... Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso? - Beaumont... You know, that sounds familiar. Are you related to Lord Bartholemy, by chance?

Sì. Egli è nostro padre. - Yes. He is our father.

Sì...sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui. - Yes... Yes... He accompanied the former king on many occasions. You look a lot like him.

Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte. - Yes, there is a notable family resemblance.

E questaè Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos,un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys. - And this is Lady Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, a dear friend of mine, and loyal supporter of the Rys family.

E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente. - My sincere pleasure, Mr President.

Il piacere è tutto mio. - The pleasure is all mine.

E finalmente, questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria. - And finally, this is Lady Harper, the new Duchess of Valtoria.

Sì. Ma hopraticato mio Italiano.* - Yes. But I am practising my Italian. *Italian speakers will note that there is a grammatical mistake here (the correct phrasing is 'Ho praticato il mio italiano'). However, the mistake is deliberate because Harper learnt Italian literally an hour ago, so she's not going to be perfect at it!

La città eterna - the Eternal City (nickname for Rome)

Accettare le mie scuse - [Please] Accept my apologies.

Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori. È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazionereale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. Èpassato troppo tempo da— Your Royal Highness, fellow delegates, ladies and gentlemen. It is my honour to host the royal delegation of Cordonia, our neighbour and ally for many centuries. It has been far too long since—

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[ghostradiodylan]

It's karaoke night. What songs do you think each of the hacketteers would sing?

I love this ask and I spent entirely too long thinking about it! Thank you!

Nick: “American Girl” - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. He’ll dedicate this one to Abi and play a whole lot of clumsy but enthusiastic air guitar during the instrumental breaks. He’ll also do really on-the-nose inside joke choices like “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon (he'll change 'London' to 'Melbourne' because he's really lame) or “Once Bitten, Twice Shy” by Great White.

Emma: “Style” - Taylor Swift. She just reads as a Taylor girlie to me and this one’s a classic. She could do "We Are Never Getting Back Together" but Jacob might cry. So, "Style" it is. Not too tough in range and it doesn’t require her to do the cringey rap-talking part she’d have to do if she picked “Shake It Off” (although that one would also be fun and maybe if Abi gets drunk enough she’ll join Emma onstage and do that part for her).

Jacob: he wants to pick “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey but it has been banned because basic bitches like him just keep singing it. If he’s still moping about Emma, he might choose “Somebody to Love” by Queen. If someone else gets to it first, then it’s The Killers' “Mr. Brightside” all the way until the bar bans that one too.

Kaitlyn: she almost always picks a song you can scream-sing to. She has some rage to get out, okay? Her go-to is either "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" by Joan Jett or "You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morissette. If you get enough alcohol in her for her to get in her feelings though, she might do Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart," as a treat.

Laura: "Dog Days are Over" - Florence + The Machine. Is that another werewolf joke? Yes, yes it is. She can't help being overjoyed to say goodbye to the (meat)dog days. She'd probably also absolutely crush "Help I'm Alive" by Metric.

Max: I will never recover from the post that said Max and Dylan would know every step from the JustDance version of “Rasputin” by Boney M (which I think is completely correct) so I’m picking that one for Max. However, if he gets a second song or he’s feeling extremely sentimental, he might do the Michael Bublé version of “L.O.V.E.” for Laura.

Abi: I think Abi's actual musical listening tastes might be a little moodier than this, but for karaoke she wants it light and easy, and it doesn't get much lighter or easier than ABBA. "Dancing Queen" or "Mamma Mia." She'd really like it if Emma would come sing backup for her so she doesn't have to go up by herself.

Dylan: He never does the same song twice; he wants everyone to be surprised every time. He's done Lady Gaga's "Poker Face. He's done "I Write Sins Not Tragedies" by Panic! At the Disco." He's done Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream." Tonight, it's "Still Into You" by Paramore.

Ryan: He can't believe he got talked into this. Ryan hates attention and doesn't really love the sound of his own voice. He would prefer to sit quietly and watch everyone else perform. Beer won't be enough, Ryan will have to drink an entire pitcher of LITs to be drunk enough to sing. Then he will sing "Love You Madly" by CAKE and absolutely slay. Dylan will be facedown on their table pretending to have fainted when he gets back.

Bonus: Duets!

Laura and Max have perfected their version of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John and Kiki Dee. You should really see it. There’s choreo and everything.

Jacob and Kaitlyn will sing "I Believe in A Thing Called Love" by The Darkness. Nobody knows why. Neither of them has the upper range to pull it off and they know it. It's awful. They're just screeching. Ryan has to go outside until they're finished. His nerves can't take it. They have fun though.

Dylan would really like Ryan to duet with him on Peter Bjorn and John's "Young Folks," he'll even do the girl parts and the whistling! But Ryan's one and done at karaoke, and even that is asking a lot. Instead, Dylan and Nick duet The Proclaimers' "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" in absurd and potentially offensive Scottish accents.

Emma and Abi end up duetting half the time when they're supposed to be doing their own songs anyway, especially when it's Abi's turn! Somehow Emma just ends up there too. But they do "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper together with some frequency and they're great at it.

Bonus 2: Group Number!

You already know what it is. You know what's coming. You get it stuck in your head every time you play the damn game (don't you? I know it's not just me.) How could they not all sing Kelly Clarkson's "Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You)" together? Of course they do.

[cronakillz]

people you'd like to get to know better

i was absolutely stunned and touched when @dryfrooot tagged me in this! thank you sosososo much <3

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Last song: "The World We See", by C.B Moniker. this song was written and performed by my lovely friend Hannah, who recently passed away. i miss her dearly, and every day is hard, but my world is lightened up by her music. she was a person just brimming with talent that she should have had more time to make use of, but i cherish the beautiful music we were left with. rest in peach, my sweet Hannah </3

Favorite color: i can't decide between black or pink! especially together. but i think red is also beautiful, especially like, blood red and deep red.

Currently watching: ummm RuPaul's Drag Race: All Stars, One Piece, a whole bunch of anime honestly! i'm very inspired by anime and video games!

Sweet/savory/spicy: i love spice. food is usually pointless without a lil kick to it!

Relationship: taken but poly! two years strong with my best friends in the entire world. you can't be in love without finding friendship first, and i think that's definitely something to live by. friendship before romance always always always.

Current obsession: sims, fortnite, furina, the book i'm writing, and lady gaga!(always.)

last thing you googled: "is cucumber fruit"... yes, yes it is.

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i'll be tagging some creators i've been loving recently! also, i'd like to thank all of the people who have followed me. i made this account recently and have gotten nothing but support, and it warms my heart! a huge thank you to everyone who has supported me, and my content!

@imrinababy (i have already formed a friendship with you, and can't wait to keep that going! shoutout rina!), @dryfrooot , @cozytopia , @simatomica , @dejasenti99 , @d444lso , @laelaex , @simsoftly

there are definitely people i'm forgetting, but my dms are always open. drop in and say hi!

[giggly-squiggily]

Amazing, Showstopping, Glamorous Blue Lock Headcanons That Are Definitely True Ego Told Me So #1

Inspired by a friend and I yelling about Blue Lock lately. Some of these are yours, friend. Thank you for contributing to my madness :D

Don't now if I'm gonna make a part 2 but eh? We'll see where my next fever dream takes me.

Isagi un-ironically Naruto-ran throughout middle school. He thought it made him look cool and increased his speed. One day he was full blown running across the soccer field and took a heavy nose dive- breaking it. He stopped doing it after that.

Raichi's playlist is entirely made up of early 2000's/2010's pop hits. I'm talking Britney Spears, Destiny's Child, Ariana Grande, and his queen herself- Lady Gaga. Knows all the songs and dances and performs them at 2 am in the Blue Lock cafeteria when he thinks no one's up. Has been walked in on multiple times.

Chigiri has a very specific set of bookish characters that if their name is even referenced he will throw hands. You wanna see this soft spoken shy princess swear up a storm? Drop a name. "Hey Chigiri, who's Gale Hawthorne-" "Don't you ever speak that bastard's name in my presence again."

Kunigami loves All Might from My Hero Academia. He's not at the collector level Deku is in the show but he'll quote the Number 1 Hero ("Former-" "We don't talk about the other guy, Isagi. There's only All Might"). Only Isagi knows what he's saying; everyone else has heard "Plus Ultra" but doesn't really get it.

Bachira is a fantastic artist. He gets it from his momma and it shows! He likes to draw the monster a lot, but he has drawn everyone in the room at least once. Whenever he draws his friends, they'll have little decorations associated with them. (Kuni's got a cape, Chigiri's got a tiny crown, Isagi has his own monster.)

Nagi can do the worm. He does mainly when he's already on the floor and is too lazy to stand, so he just kinda wiggles over to wherever he needs to go. No one knows where he learned it but it's absolutely hilarious to watch.

Sae speaks fluid Spanish from his time in Spain. This comes very apparent after Shidou pissed him off so badly he chewed him out in it. The mentioned man finds it really sexy, even if Sae's calling him a "Colossal hemorrhoid I have the displeasure of having stuck up my ass."

Despite his love for Horror games/movies, Rin is beyond easy to jump scare. His argument is that in those settings he's prepared to get spooked. Bachira can be as silent as the wind when he wants to be, so accidental (and a lot of times intentional) spooks are common between them. ".......Hi Rin!" "FU-!"

Chigiri is a great singer but horrifically shy about it. He sings in the shower when he's sure no one is around. Most of the tunes he sings are ones his sister introduced him to- things like "Uptown Girl" and "Tiny Dancer"; but he knows a handful of newer ones. One time Bachira walked in on him. The dribbler told everyone he knew about it but Chigiri flat out refuses to sing in front of anyone so it's more a rumor.

Reo on the flip side is a horrible singer and refuses to believe anything otherwise. In his head, he is a god of vocals. In reality, he sounds like Toad from Super Mario getting tased in the balls. Nagi has learned the art of tuning him out, so he's no help in disproving Reo's false beliefs.

Gagamaru has been the resident bug catcher since the Blue Lock Spider Incident of 2018. He's the only one brave enough to gather them up in his hands and put them outside.

[scholastic-dragon]

Hello! I hope this finds you well!

I wanna tell you that your Rocket x Readers bring me so much comfort and that your writing is great!

I was listening to “Awesome Mix Vol. 1” and I came to the song “Fooled around and fell in love”, and I was wondering if I could make a request of Reader working on something (it could be a new weapon, or a little gadget, anything you choose) and she is listening to her brothers mix tap and that song is playing in the background and Rocket sees her working and singing along while swaying along to the song. Rocket and Reader have unspoken feelings for each other, and maybe they have an unspoken confession to singing this together near the end.

I thought this was a really cute idea, and I’m sorry if I didn’t explain it well enough. I also understand if you don’t want to do this.

But I wish you a good day/night/evening!

just watched Gotg and now im PUMPED

it is a personal hc of mine that rocket can sing beautifully given that mr bradley cooper can sing (he sang with lady gaga)

Some Unsung Thing

It was a slow day on Knowhere, things were finally starting to fall into place and everyone finding their roles on the old sentient head.

It was a slow morning, Rocket awoke to soft sunny weather shining through his curtains, rolling onto his back in no rush.

Mornings were his favorite, laying around in soft blankets, music playing quietly and a comforting silence he had come to really enjoy.

When his hunger got too much, he got to leisurely head downstairs and have breakfast with Groot and Cosmo.

But his favorite part of the day was just before noon, deep in the Milano's ship workspace. Quill had quite generously given the ship to you, his younger sister and most recent member to the Guardians family.

Without wasting a second, you had taken over the complete under carriage and turning it into your own personal "man cave" as you liked to call it.

It became an unspoken thing between you two, Rocket coming in to visit and you both simply tinkering in silence. You both had an appreciation for music and machines and found the company quite enjoyable.

His boots clunked down the metal stairs, echoing off the walls of his old home. He heard you before he saw you, humming and tapping your feet to the music playing from the back wall.

Stopping just outside the door he forced the smile off his face before leaning in and knocking on the door frame. Crossing his arms and leaning against the metal he gave you a curt nod, thankful he couldn't blush when you lifted your head and smiled.

No words needed to be said as you continued on your current project and Rocket went over to his respective table, moving around some loose odds and end to make you think he was working.

His pocket knife sat in the midst of the mess, his alibi for the last few weeks as to why he had been spending so much time in here.

At first it was an accident that he met you down here, he needed a tool to fix the dumb thing and caught you adding to your own blasters.

He was going to grab the tool and leave, but you insisted he stayed, after all, it had been his home only a few months ago.

Now Rocket thanked every morning that had you in it. You were so bright and optimistic, and smart and sarcastic.

You were intoxicating.

Rocket knew very early on that he cared about you, after all, you were his best friends sister, but there was always something more. Something he could never figure out. It drove him insane, he wanted to spend every moment of every day with you, but in your presence he stuttered and felt hot and couldn't keep his wits about him.

Which is what lead him here, now unable to say anything of actual value for a conversation, only looking at you through a reflection of sheet metal behind his table.

Gods, you were beautiful. Which is surprising given your brother.

Your hair in a loose bun, strands falling down around your ears and in front of your eyes. Your cute little focused pout, the way you angrily huff when you couldn't get the parts into the right places.

Flipping his knife between his fingers, he took a deep breath. He had to do something about this, he couldn't stand it...this deep ache in his chest whenever you were around.

As if the Milano were on his side, the next song was one of Peter's favorites. Fooled around and Fell in Love.

Rocket had heard it before, Quill played it a lot when he was in a sappy mood. But today it was different.

And in a cruel twist of fate, you started to sing along, tapping your foot on the ground and softly swaying in your chair. You weren't the best singer, but the way you smiled at the words, the way your eyes lit up made it all worth the while.

Rocket wasn't apposed to singing, alone at least, he'd done it in the shower dozens of times, but now the words were begging to be sung.

What were you doing to him? He slumped, finally sitting down on his stool, preparing to fake working.

He sighed, feeling his nerves get the better of him. Getting out one of his screwdrivers and untwisting the bolt on his pocket knife.

Around the middle of the song, you dropped the welder, it rolled off the table to the floor. You stopped your singing to bend down and get it, at the same time the song hit its instrumental part.

Rocket felt himself start to sweat, feeling a sudden burst of courage. The song continued and before he fully knew what was going on, he started to sing.

It was soft and quiet like yours had been, and he heard you stop your own words to listen to him. He saw your smile in the metallic reflection and his heart leapt as you started to sing along with him.

He didn't know what it meant, or what would happen next, but for the first time he truly felt happy and free from his feelings. He knew in that moment he didn't care what his future held so long as you were there.

The song ended and he inhaled sharply, hands loosely holding his pocket knife and screwdriver. He heart was pounding against his chest, he forced his eyes up into the reflective wall.

He gasped seeing you staring right back at him.

"Wanna do a duet?"

He laughed. He did, he really did.