#if someone is as obsessed as me with their chapter you can see the references to it I put through the text^^
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jaegerbby · 3 months ago
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➳ someone older: chapter one
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--͙[kento nanami x female! reader]-͙-
╰┈➤ word count; 4420
╰┈➤ rundown; you can’t have everything you want but you definitely can’t have your best friend’s dad.
╰┈➤ caution; best friend's dad! nanami, age gap (20s & 40s), dirty talk (descriptions of a blow job/face fucking), grinding, alcohol consumption, mentions of family issues.
| chapter 2 |
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you like to think that all the things life has thrown at you have not influenced you.
perhaps, it has changed you in one way.
you want the things you cannot have.
one of those being the blonde man sitting before you.
nanami is gorgeous.
to an insane degree.
you are mesmerised every time you see him.
he is narrow eyes and sculpted cheeks. chiseled jaw and pink lips. he is enthralling and kind. he is stern but you find his humour one of his most attractive qualities.
he is dress shirts and khaki pants galore, you barely saw a glimpse of his body but the muscles of his back are so defined you can see them etched through his shirt.
his back is broad, his biceps are wide and you want to see it all in the absence of clothing.
he is your obsession although he should not be.
right now, the scent of alcohol intermingles with his enticing cologne.
right now, his daughter is sleeping upstairs while you are standing a foot away from him.
his daughter happens to be your best friend.
she has done nothing but be there for you and treat you with utmost affection so why is it hard for you to resist the one man you should not be around?
the truth is, nanami is one in a million. the more you dwell on the thought of him, the more you realise, there is no one like him.
"nanami." you call. his eyes open immediately, his head raises from where he leans on the couch.
he finds the bare skin of thighs, your sleep shorts hardly do anything to conceal you. he straightens up, avoiding your figure once he comes to his senses. he clears his throat but you step closer.
"can i join you?"
"i don't think you should." he brushes his hands over his face. you both tip toe around the tension that surrounds you. every time your eyes meet, every time you are in a room alone.
it manifests in the way you stand a little too close to him or smile a bit too wide. in your fingertips brushing his skin as he passes a dish to you when you stay over for dinner. in you calling his name a bit more excitedly than you should.
you sit beside him regardless of his answer. your thigh presses to his, you see him glance down although he does not tell you to move.
you glimpse over the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. his fingers fidget before he reaches for the glass. he swirls the liquid then downs it in one go. your eyes do not leave him for a moment.
you memorise the way his adam's apple bobs while he consumes the contents, the way his forearm flexes and his veins raise.
it clicks against the table and he fills it up again. his expression remains unchanged despite the bitter liquor.
"i want some." it is not the alcohol you are referring to. he knows it but nanami has a bad habit of ignoring things.
"it's not good for you." he speaks softly and lowly.
"so?" your hand finds the rim of the cup, bringing it to your lips. nanami cannot think as your mouth rests on the same part his did. your eyes squeeze as the liquid burns your throat.
he leans back, his legs spreading and his hips tilting up as he adjusts himself. his leg pushes yours without much trouble. you swear he is doing it on purpose. the material of his pants strain against his built thighs and the shirt he wears is held together by only a few buttons.
otherwise the fabric loosely drapes over his skin and you can see most of his chest.
"you don't listen."
"never." your tongue slips out to dampen your lips, you wish you could taste the whiskey off his instead of your own. you hardly think, maybe you do not think at all when his hooded eyes are on you. "do you have a crush on me?"
his lips pursue, his lips that you so badly want to kiss. "i'm too old for that."
"you aren't denying it." you perk up.
nanami's finger brushes against your knee. almost like an apology for the words that follow. "you don't like me y/n. you don't. you have things going on at home and you want some place to run to." it makes your chest hurt. "you want somebody to treat you the way you deserve." his thumb slowly drags over your knee and the softness of his voice has your heart beating faster.
his gaze is too affection for you to be mad at him. although you want to be.
"maybe i do. maybe i'm just fucked up. is that why you sound like you want to take care of me?" you are crossing a line. "cause, kento, i'm a mess. i don't know what's good for me but you're the sensible one." he grips your knee tighter, you called his name. it might be the best thing he has ever heard. "shouldn't you do what's right?"
"i am. i'm doing the right thing." he forces out.
"really?" you lean over him, your hand on the knee furthest from you. his eyes follow as your palm moves higher, his muscles shifting beneath it. his shoulders jolt when your soft lips meet his chest. "i like you. it's not some misplaced affection. if it was, i would never come near you and you know that."
he does. he knows you better than he should.
you trail wet kisses across the broad expanse of his chest, moving along his neck until you finally meet his angular jaw.
you mouth feels too good him and you are too close for him to think properly. your scent invades his senses and destroys his resolve.
"do you want me to be your baby?" you puff, there is barely an inch of space between you. you are practically falling into his lap and the weight of your little hand impresses dangerously close to his erection.
"don't ask me that." he clenches his jaw and he has to reach down to adjust his cock. he hates that you lick your lips because of it. he hates that it makes him harder.
"why? you're a man and a girl is throwing herself at you."
his features contort in something close to irritation. his fingers slowly find your hair, stroking it with affection. "i don't just want to fuck you. you're not some random girl, you're not a hook up."
your eyes flutter, nanami cannot help but like the way your lashes look. he likes the way your face looks this close. your finger hooks on his shirt together exposing more of his chest.
"i want you, more than i should, more than i'm allowed to."
your eyes flit from his hooded ones to his lips. you reach up to brush your fingers along them. you want to kiss him. you feel like you need it to breathe.
"you're drunk."
"no, i'm not."
"then everything you say, will you take it back later?" you swallow hard.
"no." he draws you closer, nudging your nose with his. you swear you stop breathing when he leans in until your lips meet the other side of your fingers.
"don't hate me for this." he tugs your hand from between you and he softly pecks your lips. how could you ever hate him? there was no plausible scenario that would ever change the way you feel about him.
"that's not a real kiss." he tilts his head, brows raising at your miffed tone.
"what kind of kiss do you want?"
"i want to taste you as much as i feel you." you jolt when strong hands grip your waist and he's bringing you onto his lap.
all you can focus on is the way you are perched on him after never getting this close before.
"like this?" he caresses your cheek and then his mouth finds yours. nanami kisses like he has done it countless times.
it is slow and gentle. it is sweet and kind.
you tightly grip his shirt as he tilts his head and his mouth languidly caresses yours. he separates for a second then his lips meet yours again.
this time his tongue enters your mouth.
this time his tongue claims every inch of his mouth.
he tastes of alcohol. you do not want to ever stop kissing him.
"yeah, like that." you quietly say as he leans away. his hands settle on your lower back, you are all too aware. they are so warm. you hold his jaw to repeatedly peck his lips.
once, twice. he flashes you a smile that completely diminishes your self control before his lips are pressed to yours again and again.
you undo the button of his shirt, moaning into his mouth and nanami surely approves because he kisses you harder. you glimpse down at bare skin, his body is far from what you would expect someone his age to look like. you wetly kiss him before your lips find his neck.
you suck on the pale skin, nipping it as you pull away. his skin bruises easily, it turns red with every bite. nanami only grips you tighter. his head tilts back allowing you to kiss down the column of his throat with no obstructions.
you leave a flurry of kisses along his warm skin. it is impossible to not like him. it is an insane request to ever ask of someone.
when your mouth covers his again, his tongue messily coats over yours. he kisses hard. he kisses until your lips are swollen and your hands have disheveled his hair.
your hips shift along his, the bulge straining against the confines of his pants pressing against your aching cunt. you have only just begun to appreciate the feeling. you hands have only just started exploring uncharted territory.
"y/n." a tired voice calls from the staircase.
you are terrible.
you scramble off of nanami like he burns you, swiping spit from your mouth and trying to distance yourself.
nanami looks aghast. he tugs one of the pillows over his lap then hurriedly buttons his shirt. there is nothing he can do to hide his kiss swollen lips or the hickies you left.
he swallows the glass of whiskey as yua enters the living room. you stand immediately upon her entrance. she is rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"i was wondering where you went." she does not seem suspicious but the thought of how close you were to getting caught has your stomach churning. nanami cannot bring himself to look at his daughter as she draws closer.
"i was just." your hands are clammy with sweat "tasting some of your dad's whiskey." she pursues her lips.
"ew, don't drink that old man alcohol." she dramatically says with a disgusted expression. "let's go upstairs." she does not have to say it twice because you walk in that direction like you were awaiting a cue.
"night, dad." she calls and you faintly hear him say it back.
you wonder what he is thinking.
you lie next to yua with the feeling of kento's lips etched into yours.
---
nanami is avoiding you.
without a doubt.
the last time his stony eyes met yours was that night he so raptly kissed you.
the same night he told you he would not take back the things he said.
his actions show anything but that.
nanami does not stay in the room when you are around.
he picks yua and you up from university and he does not spare you a glance.
he does all those little things to create distance but he has not stopped asking you about your day. he has not stopped making sure you are okay.
that is why he is everything to you.
yua is not home but you are. you are at nanami's house like it is your own.
you are clad in a pink dress. one you have worn before, one kento has seen you in. you have the memory of his eyes roving over your figure before he looked away.
his eyes lingered on the fabric flowing around your thighs, and the exposed skin of your legs. he knew it was wrong.
you perk up when the door opens and he steps inside. his shirt is rolled up to his elbows, the tan material of his pants conform to his thick thighs, you are breathless. he stills for a moment when he sees you, glimpsing away as he slips off his shoes.
he slackens his tie as he walks towards the living room. your eyes focus on the way his forearm flexes. nanami is too handsome for his own good. you wonder if he knows just how attractive he is.
he pauses, focusing on your dress but he's more concerned with asking a question you have been longing to hear.
"are you doing okay?" he lowly mumbles. for the past few days he has not let you speak past saying you are fine.
he has not let you bind him up in your web like he knows you will if he spares you a few minutes of his time. if he hears your voice for long enough nanami is going to let the part of him aching to have you win.
"i'm not." your heart quickens when his concern etches over his features. his brows contort and his eyes grow alert.
"what's wrong?" he comes closer, you can hear it in his voice. how worried he is.
"everything." you have nanami wrapped around your finger.
he only comes closer and closer. "did something happen at home?" you do not answer him. he sits beside you, his hands reaching for yours.
"tell me if something happened."
your eyes trail over his expression, his straight nose and defined jawline, his pink lips and sunken cheeks.
how can you not like him?
you wonder if he can see how willing you are to give yourself to him. that you would let him have you anyway he wants. that you would do anything if it meant he would be yours.
nanami jerks when your hands pull away and you lower yourself onto your knees in front of him.
your fingers find the stiff muscle of his thighs and he tenses when you look up at him.
"what are you doing?" his voice is low, you can practically hear the forced restraint.
"there's something i've wanted to say to you." you bat your pretty lashes and nanami swears he is on the precipice of no control. he swears he is about to give into the sick and twisted part of him.
he can't do this. he can't let you in. even though every part of him is begging him to.
his jaw locks, he breathes an exasperated breath before pinching the bridge of his nose. "yn." he always says your name with such affection but right now you can find an ounce of it in his voice. "this can't happen. if you don't get over whatever this is, i'm going to make it hurt."
his voice is so stern, it makes your thighs press together and despite his effort to ward you off, your hands trail higher on the planes of his toned legs. you can feel the stiff bulging muscle beneath his khaki pants.
"then make it hurt."
nanami narrows his eyes.
"i know that it's wrong to want you but you make me feel okay. you're the only man who makes me feel safe, kento." his fingers ball into fists. you are pouring your heart out. "i know everything i feel for you, you feel for me too."
his gazes trails over you, nanami is being ripped to pieces and each of them are being crushed. he should not but he is looking at your lips. he is looking at them while they form every word and his thoughts are straying.
his thighs flex beneath your palms. nanami wonders what you are getting out of this beside wrecking him. besides witnessing him fall apart.
he does not say a word but he does not push you away and that is all you need to continue.
"and i can be anything you want." his jaw clenches so hard if aches as your eyes drop to the bulge impressing against his pants. "i only see you, i only want you. i can be your woman, kento." he swallows hard when you finish.
you hands trail further on his thighs, you can see his jaw clenching. he breathes harder.
"how?" his voice is low, it's hesitant like it's fighting to get out when he wants to stay mum.
"i'll get on my knees for you." you already are. you perched on your knees between his legs and all kento can think about is seeing what you would look like gagging on his cock. "i'll let you fuck me."
"you'll let me fuck you." he rolls the words around in his mouth. this is wrong, it is all so wrong. then, why does it feel so right? and why does he craving the feeling of your slick cunt wrapped around him rather than imagining it.
"how long have you wanted to tell me that?" he pauses, he cannot put together his words. he cannot form a coherent thought. "how long have you been waiting here... in that dress?"
nanami has thought about you in this dress more times than he would like to admit. his gaze weighs heavy on you. it is so intense you feel like shrinking away but you do not because this is nanami.
"i've wanted to say it since i met you." your voice comes out softly.
finally, finally he leans in. finally his large hand finds the strands of your hair and he comes closer. "you want to be my woman? then what should you do when you're in this position? what should you do when you're on your knees?"
you shiver at his words, a shaky hum vibrating through you. your back arches almost instinctively, your hands tightening on his thighs but they are so big and so tense you swear your grip is slipping.
"you'll open that mouth for me? you're going to part these pretty lips like you're begging me to stick something between them. won't you?"
"i will, kento." the way your body aches for him is far too intense. his cheek bones tighten at your agreement. at how easily you give in.
nanami wishes you would at least tell him no because he would leave you alone. you do not tell him no. you never do. it is like every time you ask him for more.
denying you is only getting harder.
his hand slips lower, grazing your neck and all you can think about is that he is touching you. he is touching you and you will think about it forever. you will memorise every line on his hand and every callous on it and keep it in your mind.
his biceps strain beneath his dress shirt, somehow, someway, he looks bigger when his hands are on you.
"tell me what you're opening your mouth for."
"your cock."
nanami grits his teeth. he has to close his eyes to gain some sort of composure.
your eyes trail over to his erection and you can clearly see it. the imprint is tight against his pants and begging for some relief. his cock begs for your attention.
his chest heaves. he shakes you by your nape to bring your attention to his face. where his glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose and his eyes are dark. where he looks too gorgeous.
"you can't have it."
your brows raise, your lips part and nanami wants to kiss you. he wants to feel your mouth on his again.
"why?" you think he will spew you the same story that this is wrong, that he cannot be with you and you know exactly why. you are not prepared for what he does say.
"because it's too big for you. it won't fit in this little mouth, you won't be able to suck it how i like. you can't." you shake your head in protest. you want to tell him that you can. you will.
"cause my cock is too thick and too long, for you. your hands won't be able to hold my cock properly, your fingers won't touch when you wrap around me. you think your mouth will? your little mouth can't take it, baby." he strokes your hair, his tone soft. "and you can't take it either. if i put my cock over this pretty face, it would touch your chin and go past your forehead with so much left. you can't take that so how will you be my woman?"
your mouth is full of sticky saliva and your panties are soaked. they are far from damp, in fact they are drenched with slick. your cunt pulses and your stomach is turning.
your entire body feels feverish.
"i can. i promise i will. i'll learn!" you are already salivating at the thought. "i know it's big, kento." why are you saying his name so salaciously? "but i just need to do it a few times and i'll be able to take it all."
his expression contorts in something you do not quite understand. his eyes are on your lips. like he can picture it already.
"you'll open your mouth whenever i want it? you'll suck my cock as many times as you need to get to the base? you'll let me stretch your lips even though it's too big for you and you can't handle it, until you can take every inch?"
your nails claw at his thighs, the air feels too thick to breathe.
you swear nanami has destroyed you.
you nod, a low whine in your throat.
"right. you'll suck my cock. it'll be so hard and so swollen. but you'll wrap that little mouth around it. you'll let me stuff it so full with my cock because i want to see it in your throat. i want to see how far it will reach because you want something that's too big for you. you can gag and drool and cry but all i'll care about is getting deep in this throat." nanami's hand grips your jaw, his thumb stroking over your lips that are damp with spit. "i know you'll be dripping everywhere, i know that pussy is going to make a mess between your legs while i take your mouth because she wants it too."
you are short circuiting. your brain has dissolved to mush and it is leaking from your ears. when he talks like that, how can you let go? how can you stay away?
"you're going to cry and i know you look so pretty when you cry. and you're going to try to get away when i have your lips wrapped around my cock. it's going to be so far in that tight throat, you won't be able to breathe, baby. all the spit dripping down your jaw and all the juice leaking from your cunt will mess up this pretty dress."
he is breathing so roughly, you can feel it hit your face, you can feel each huff.
you can see his chest heaving.
and you.
you are a mess. you are a catastrophic disaster. your pussy is sticky, no amount of clenching your thighs will rid you of the pulsating between your legs.
tears are leaking down your face and your mouth is webbed with saliva. you feel too hot, it washes over your entire body.
"you'll let me pump my cock into your mouth until i'm shooting cum in the back of this tight throat and you'll swallow every drop. won't you? you'll be good and drink it all down. you'll keep it in your belly, right?"
the whine you let out is whorish, it is so desperate. "i will, i will. i'll drink it all, i'll be good and take everything you give me."
nanami is angry, he is so angry.
"why are you agreeing with all the disgusting things i tell you?" he forces out through gritted teeth. his nose flares, his jaw is tight and fuck, he looks so sexy when he is mad.
your lips part but he does not let you speak. "do not let me talk to you like that. do not let me treat you like some slut because that's not what you are. understand me? the way i just spoke to you, never let someone speak that way again, not to you."
his hands gently coax through your hair. he is so gentle you want to melt. "i want you to go home and i want this to be the last time anything like this happens. that night and today, it can't happen again."
"i don't want to leave." you do not want to be away from him. it seems everything he tells you, goes in one ear and out the next.
"then i will." you swear you could cry when he releases you. you feel sick now that he is not touching you. you feel sick now that you cannot feel his fingers through your hair.
you stare up at him, silently begging for him to stay.
"i can't have sex with you." he lowly mutters.
"just once. once is enough." you are desperate. you grip at his thighs. truthfully, once would never suffice. you would never be content with having him once.
"who is it enough for? i'll have you once and that's it?"
all you want is to please him, all you want is to make him happy.
"then we can do it as much as you want!"
"do you hear yourself right now?" he forces out. nanami tugs off his glasses to swipe his hand over his face. you hold his arm but the second he stands you lose your grip.
you cannot truly stop nanami despite wanting to.
"i want you to remember this. i hope you remember that i turned my back on you and i walked away. that's happened to you before, right?" there is no conviction in his voice but your body tenses where you are still perched on your knees.
you really just might cry.
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been thinking abt this nanami for a whileee
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kaysfanficcorner · 11 days ago
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The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 2
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Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader
Summary: You tell Harry what you don't do for a living, and the charity concert heats things up a bit.
Author's Note: Oh my goodness, I was not expecting to post the second part to this immediately after posting part one. But it was already written and I was happy with it so here ya go! Thank you for the love and support on part one, your interaction with that introductory chapter means the world to me! I am so stoked to share what I have planned for these two, and I'm aiming to tie this up as a neat little five part fic. But, I have a tendency to go overboard and find excuses to make my fics longer (looking at you, Out of This World), so we shall see if I can stick to that or not!
I want to go ahead and warn that I am not a fluent Spanish speaker. A novice at best. But, my partner and I are casually learning the language and there are a few moments involving Spanish in this chapter. Part two is heavily influenced by my obsession with a certain Latin American artist (you'll see), and so I make a reference to some lyrics. I did my best to ensure that the translations are accurate. I love the language and I would like to do it justice if I am going to reference it in my work.
New note, 6/25: I went back and made one small edit to this chapter. In it, Harry originally said it was June. For the outline I have planned I needed to move things up two months to August, so now I just made Harry make a vague reference to it being summer. You’ll understand when part 4 comes out!
Song Inspiration
Warnings: Drinking; Smoking THC; Harry is a little intoxicated and horny; Reader is too; Lying is stressful and bad, don't lie if you like someone a lot; Reader is bisexual; More descriptions of Reader's cam sessions; Cursing; Grinding; Kissing; Dancing; A little dirty talk; No Smut yet but we are edging towards it.
Minors DNI; Strictly 18+
Ao3
*****
Harry’s body is close to yours as you lean your back against the wall in a semi secluded corner of the venue. Sipping your drink, the third one since you started talking to him nearly forty-five minutes ago, any trepidation you felt about him before has left your person for the time being. The job subject hasn’t come up again. Instead you were able to slyly gloss over it, starting a new conversation by asking him his favorite thing about life in New York, and then things evolved from there.  
You’re both about to need a fourth drink by the looks of each nearly empty glass, but you’re not so sure if a fourth drink is a great idea. Harry seems to be holding his liquor just fine, but you’re a pot smoker at heart and you don’t normally drink this much. You know you’re tipsy, and you don’t want to take things too far and risk ruining the night for yourself. Vanessa never came back, and you’re not sure how she’ll react to know you’ve been getting semi drunk with a stranger. Then again, she’s been practically begging you to try and meet someone ever since she and Charles got together. Who knows, maybe she’ll be thrilled.
All you know is, you’ll be thanking her later when the two of you eventually make it back home. Harry Castillo is much better company than that silly vampire prince. 
You’re too lost in watching the skin around his eyes wrinkle with laughter at the dumb joke you just made a moment ago, and the beautiful dramatic curve of his broad nose when he turns his head to look briefly at the empty stage. He’s gorgeous from every angle, but that side profile of his is something else entirely. And his laugh? What a gift that sound is. 
“Are you listening?” The man you're mesmerized with asks as his chuckles fizzle out and he looks you up and down, brow lifting. “I asked you a question and you just stared at me.”
“Honestly, no. I wasn’t listening. You’re a little distracting when I’ve had three vodka sodas with generous pours. Have I told you that you’re handsome, Harry?” You’re unable to stop yourself as your hand lifts up and you run three manicured fingers through the hair just above his ear. You’re careful not to mess it up too much, and you revel in the softness of it.
Harry leans down, mouth hovering six or so inches from yours as his brown eyes bore into you. “Have I told you that you’re beautiful?”
Your chest swells and your stomach flutters at the question, lifting up towards him slightly. It would be so easy to kiss him, and it would also be utterly insane. Instead you force yourself not to. 
“Can we get some air? It suddenly feels like a million degrees. I guess I need to pace myself with these.” As you say that last sentence, you lift up your empty glass and send him an embarrassed little look while you shake it about and let the ice clink around. 
Harry’s eyes darken slightly with a vaguely lusty countenance, his free hand coming to rest on the wall right behind your head as he grins down at you. “I don’t think it's the booze heating things up in here. I could use to cool-off as well.”
With that, his hand slides from the wall and his fingers graze the side of your neck. A shiver runs up your spine as those fingers delicately run along the line of your jaw, before the tip of his index finger curls just under your chin. A small bit of pressure from him and you’re lifting up even more to meet him. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you for a moment, but then he simply shakes his head as if he cannot believe the sight before his eyes. 
“You really are beautiful.” 
Finger leaving your chin, his arm is suddenly weaving through yours, hooking at the elbow as he begins to pull you towards the huge glass doors of the terrace. Along the way you both discard your empty drinks, and then he’s leading you out into the warm summer night air. The two of you have the terrace all to yourselves, as everyone else seems to be inside anticipating the concert to begin at any moment.
“Do you smoke?” You ask him, squinting a little as you gauge his reaction. 
“I used to smoke cigarettes. Quit in my thirties.” Harry shrugs, eyeing you for a moment before looking out at the surrounding city. 
The view is pretty spectacular, and the night sky is as clear as it can be in a city this large. There’s a full moon peeking out from just behind the tallest building you can see at this angle. It’s picturesque, but none of that really matters right now in his presence. 
Pulling the thin little dab pen from your small black purse, you hold the sleek looking thing to your lips and take a long, satisfying drag. He looks back at you just as you decide to blow it out, so the vapor leaves your mouth through a sly grin as you hold the pen out to him. “What about weed?” 
Brows raising, he takes the pen from you and lets his warm fingers linger against yours for a long moment. That’s practically enough to make you dizzy. 
“Occasionally. Usually in more private settings and not at an event like this. It’s expected that I keep up appearances, you know.” Harry examines the thing, then he puts the mouthpiece to his plump lips and pulls a hefty drag of his own.           
God what you wouldn’t give to bite that bottom lip of his, body heating up as you watch the black plastic tip of the device rest indented against the pouty pink flesh there. A moment later he lets the vapor go with a sputtering, wide-eyed cough.
“Easy. Down, boy,” the phrase leaves your mouth along with a fit of giggles as you smack him lightly on the back.
“Jesus,” Harry blurts out between coughs, “you did that like a pro. I feel like a blundering novice.”
“I’m a seasoned veteran,” you say with a small bow, fully aware of the cleavage shot you’re gracing him with as you take the pen back.
“Apparently so,” Harry says with a chuckle, eyes lingering on your offered chest for a moment. “God, my throat burns.”
You frown a little, not wanting to have hurt him. “Yeah, sorry. Vapes are kind of awful. But they do nicely in a pinch, or when I’m out and about like this.” 
“So you go out often, then? Just not in the circles I run in, I suppose.”
“I can’t say that Van and I spend a lot of time with late forties businessmen, no.”
“I wish I didn’t. What kinds of circles do you run in, then?” As he asks this question, another more important question seems to dawn on him. A wild look of realization washes over his face. The dab pen certainly made him a bit more emotive, and you can’t help but find it endearing. “Oh! Do you have a boyfriend?”
A giddy little smirk finds your lips, happy to know that’s a concern of his. “No boyfriend. No girlfriend. No relationship. And, honestly, not that many circles. I have a handful of friends, but usually I enjoy doing things on my own most of the time. Reading, going to the movies, making food.”
Harry’s lovely brown eyes, red and squinting now, widen comically as a look of stoned pleasure takes over his handsome features. After that, his facial muscles relax considerably.  You know he’s feeling high when a warm hum escapes him as he says, “Mm, nice. I love movies. And books. And food.” Then his eyes grow even wider, as if he just remembered that food even exists. “Oh my god. I love food. We should get food after this. Something greasy?”
Harry’s enthusiasm sends you over with giggles, shaking your head at your handsome new friend. Clearly he doesn’t smoke as much as you do. “I’d get food with you, Harry. Who doesn’t love food?”
“Weirdos, I’m sure,” he chuckles confidently, smiling at you. “Do you speak Spanish?” He asks, suddenly changing the subject as he leans an elbow over the railing. “I got the impression that your roommate does.”
You nod, “She’s Mexican, so good call. It was her first language. I’m not fluent or anything but I’ve spent so much time with her that I can understand it much better than I can speak it. We watch a lot of Spanish language films together, and she’s influenced most of my current taste in music. But even still, I get so nervous that my accent is atrocious.”
“Say something in Spanish,” he softly commands, nodding once with more of that charming confidence of his. He’s going to send you over the edge just by existing, you just know it. There’s a gorgeous view of the city you love so much behind him, but he’s the only thing you can see right now.  
Stoned and nervous, you hide your face in your hands and say the first thing that comes to mind, “ Frijoles negros .” 
Harry barks with laughter and embarrassment immediately floods your system. You frown, looking down at the street below for a second. 
Harry seems to notice this, shaking his head and smiling at you fondly with reddened, squinting eyes. “Hey, no. I didn’t mean to laugh. Your accent is actually lovely. You should feel more confident in your Spanish. I just wasn’t expecting you to say black beans. ”
Shaking your head with a laugh, it’s a relief to know he wasn’t picking on you. You feel brave enough to shove him in the upper arm, deciding to use a term that Vanessa throws around a lot. “Yeah, well, you didn’t have to put me on the spot like that, cabrón. ”
He laughs even harder for a moment. Then a sudden look of realization washes over his face, and his brow furrows. “I just remembered. You never did tell me what you do for a living.”
There it is. He slipped it in so perfectly after your guard had fallen so far down.You nearly choke on the next hit of the dab pen, sputtering as you let the vapor leave your lungs and hand it over to Harry once more. 
Recovering, you try your best to smile and act as if that had simply been a cough. “Well,” you begin, prolonging the inevitable even more, “I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I’m a college dropout with no degree from a poor family. School wasn’t for me. Couldn’t afford it and didn’t apply myself so I stopped before I put myself in debt for no reason. After that I moved here to become an actress. That was a little over a decade ago. Acting didn’t work out, but that was never really my dream. This city was my true dream, and that part did work out eventually.”
He hits the pen twice more and hands it back, his handsome voice taking on a serious tone. “I don’t care if you have a college degree. Life is what teaches us how to live, not some expensive school. I was fortunate to have the money for that kind of an education, but ultimately my path was picked out for me regardless of my schooling. I learned how to do what I do by spending summers working as my mother’s assistant. Whatever you do, you don’t need to feel embarrassed about it.”
“Ha,” you scoff, looking away from him momentarily. “I usually don’t. In front of you, I do. You’re a little intimidating, Harry.”
Harry frowns, most likely at your continued reluctance to tell him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry so much. You really do intrigue me, that’s all.”
With a wave of the hand you try to brush that statement off. But inside you’re screaming with joy that a man of his caliber is saying things like that to you. “I’m really not that interesting.”
“Now that’s simply not true. Because girls like you don’t come to things like this. Your jewelry, for example.” Harry reaches his right hand towards the left side of your face, his thick index finger hooking behind your dangling earring. His eyes cast down at it for a long moment, and the most adorable little grin finds his lips. “I’ve never met a girl who wears bat earrings before. Especially not in the dead of summer, to an event like this. But it’s tasteful, and it fits your look very well.”
With a shrug, your left hand lifts to graze his wrist. “You can’t blame an ex-goth for hanging on to her old aesthetic a little bit, can you?”
Harry surprises you then by grabbing your fingers, bringing them up to meet his lips, kissing the matching ring. “That, I cannot.”
He nods thoughtfully, holding your hand close to his mouth. Close enough you can feel his warm breath. “You seem to have money despite your background. More so than your friend. The way you carry yourself suggests that this is a recent development in your life. I’m old money. New money is easy enough to sniff out when you’ve been stuck around these people your whole life. Maybe only a year or so for your financial success?”
“About two,” you blurt out, hand darting out of his grasp, flying to your lips. 
You stupid stupid bitch! Shut UP!
You’ve already said far too much to this man and if you’re not careful you could ruin what is turning out to be a beautiful evening. Normally you’re not shy about your profession. You’ve told plenty of the men and women you’ve casually dated over the last two years. You’re not ashamed of what you do when you’re talking to someone on your level, but you’ve never even been close to these kinds of people before tonight. 
To put it plainly, you simply enjoy expensive things because you had to grow up wanting for so much and having so little. Somehow you managed to find a job you genuinely enjoy, which allows for you to have the money to afford the life of casual luxury you always wished for. That doesn’t mean you look to surround yourself with other wealthy people. Most of your friends are still starving artists much like Vanessa. The fact that he called himself ‘old money’ just now is proof enough that he was born on a different plane of existence. 
Harry Castillo is so incredibly far above you on the food chain when it comes to New York City’s elite. He could chew you up and spit you out if you let him. Someone of his social stature could never know the truth about what you do and look at you the same way. You’re certain of it. 
If he knew that this time last night, instead of a designer dress, all you had on your body, or in your body rather, was a jeweled plug and a ring gag. If he knew there had been a weighted chain connected to both of your expertly hidden nipple piercings. If he knew that while you facefucked yourself with a pretty pink dildo, a much older and much less attractive man than Harry was fucking himself with a fleshlight to it on the other side of the video feed. If he knew that right after the session you used your wand to give yourself a quiet, grunting orgasm as your well earned treat after faking a big loud one for your client… If he knew any of that , Harry Castillo may not think you’re as beautiful and intriguing as he does right now. 
But he does think you’re beautiful and intriguing right now. He said so himself. And you haven’t said anything that could ruin your chances with him yet. So you scramble to think of something to say, and finally an idea comes to mind.
“I’m sorry I’m being so cagey about telling you. It’s just not something I like to discuss with someone I’ve only just met. I’m…,” your brain scrambles again, a split second of doubt stopping you from lying. But then the loosened inhibitions from the alcohol and smoke make you blurt out the only lie that makes any sense, and the decision is made. 
“An author!”
It’s not a total lie. While you haven’t completed anything novel-length yet, a handful of your short stories have been featured in a few fetish zines and smut compilations. Real, published ones. You never see any real money from those ventures, but it still counts. Your Ao3 account has about twenty-five contributions. All you ever read is smutty romance. This is a subject you know enough about to craft a believable fib around it. Guilty as that makes you feel, given that this is the most you’ve liked someone new in a hot minute. 
But, Harry Castillo comes off like a man you’ll never see again after tonight. So what’s a little white lie going to hurt in the grand scheme of things? The two of you are from completely different worlds. One night with a man like him is a blessing. Any more nights? That's asking for trouble.
His eyes light up at your not-true confession, lips spreading across his face in a wide, handsome grin. 
Oh no. Perhaps you’ve been in trouble from the very start.
Harry’s so enthusiastic as he exclaims, “You have to let me read your work!”
You’re blushing, and sweating a bit. “Oh, that’s kind of you but I’m sure what I write is not your speed whatsoever.”
Harry’s firm on this, shaking his head once. “I insist. I’m going to look you up as soon as I go home.”
Is this man fucking real? There’s no way he exists in this realm. 
“You won’t find me,” you say abruptly, quickly adding, “I use a pseudonym!”
He leans in, hovering close to your face as he pouts that damned lower lip ever so slightly. “Tell me your pseudonym? Please ?”
Your pulse quickens, palms moistening as you shake your head again. “I’d rather not, Harry.”
“Why? Do I make you nervous? I’m sure you’re a fine writer, and I’d like to see for myself.” Those big brown eyes are pleading with you, and it’s almost too much entirely. “At least tell me what genre you write in.”
“Uh, romance mostly,” you blurt out. “Like I said, not your speed.”
He shocks you when a bashful look crosses his features. “Actually, and please don’t out me for this, my guilty pleasure is romance. A night in with a bottle of wine and a steamy book or a sappy movie? Ideal. Please, let me read your work?”
Deflecting, you say, “My work is a little more intense than your mainstream romance. Steamy doesn’t even cut it.”
But Harry’s once again surprising you with his reaction. “Oh, really? You write erotica? Fascinating! Now I really must read something of yours.”
Your voice nearly waivers, but you hold fast. “ No , Harry.”
“Why not? Is it me?” Harry’s face falls, disappointment written all over him. A kind of shyness and vulnerability finds his voice, you’re certain of it.
You’re frowning, and for a split second you consider backtracking and telling him the truth. He really does seem to like you, and perhaps there’s a chance he would understand. But are you brave enough to take that chance? 
No, evidently you’re a coward. 
Fuck me, you think. And since you’d love for this night to end with Harry Castillo doing just that, you decide to speak from the heart as much as you can without revealing too much. The web of lies you’ve begun to weave is already starting to stress you out a little, so you take another decent puff on the dab pen and stick it back in your purse. 
“It is you, but not because I don’t like you. It’s because that is a very personal part of me,” you say. Not a complete lie. Okay, good. Keep going. “The smut I write comes from my real deepest darkest desires.” Worried that what you just said sounds sketchy, you quickly recover by adding, “Kinky, but nothing worrisome. My stories are not just about sex, they’re about the love between the characters. Those bonds are sacred, fictional representations of what I eventually want for myself with a real partner. Forgive me if I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with you when I don’t know you very well and I certainly don’t know if I can trust you. Perhaps if I got to know you better I would eventually let you read my work. But as of right now I reserve the right to deny you access. That part of my life is very private, and the small amount of success I see from it allows me to afford the lifestyle I want to live. So it’s important that my two worlds don’t collide. My parents don’t even know. Neither does my sister and she thinks I tell her everything. They all think I gave up acting to do clerical work for a law firm that happens to pay really well.”
Harry stares at you for a long time, but then his furrowed brow softens and he nods. A little smile creeps onto his lips, and the distance between you feels lessened all of the sudden. 
“You know,” he begins, a hand reaching up to move a curl from your eyes, the tips of his fingers finding your cheek, “that’s extremely fair. More than fair, actually. If you let me see you again after tonight I think I’ll make it my life’s work to earn that trust from you.”
Your breath hitches at such a forward statement, and you worry that you’re in much deeper shit than you meant to get yourself into. So much for never seeing him again after this.       
Attempting to deflect again, you tell him, “Just know that’s not an easy task. A lot of walls to break down and all that.” As you say this, he's leaning forward even more.
His lips are hovering just an inch or so above yours. “I have walls of my own, you know. Everyone does. Totally normal.”
Just as your lips graze his ever so lightly, a huge uproar from inside the venue causes you both to jump apart in surprise. Then some dramatic strings begin to play, followed by the beat of a hiphop style track.  
You shriek . Shrill and unforgiving. Harry winces at the sound of it. Without thinking, you grab Harry’s hand and begin yanking him towards the big glass doors you came out from. 
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Oh my fucking GOD! Vanessa wasn’t making this up!”
*****
“Is that the secret musical guest?” Harry asks, brow to his hairline in surprise as he lets you pull him easily. He can’t quite make out the song, but people seem to be going crazy inside for whoever it is. Then he squints, as if that will help him to hear better, and that’s when Harry realizes that your pen made him much higher than he usually gets when he partakes in the indulgence of marijuana. The three drinks, not including the one he had before he ran into you, aren’t assisting him to feel very sober now either. His senses are on a bit of an overload, but it feels good at the same time. Then a familiar set of music notes hits his eardrum, and a deep male voice sings the word dime in Spanish twice and his jaw drops a little. “Wait. Is that… Bad Bunny? ”
The wild look you throw back at Harry is absolutely adorable. This is clearly the reason you came to this event in the first place, and suddenly your presence here makes a little more sense to him.
“It IS! Holy fuck I am going to lose my MIND. Please come dance with me, Harry. I like you and I want to experience this with you,” you plead back at him with a soft and genuine expression that melts every single part of Harry Castillo into a helpless goo.
As if he was going to choose to be anywhere else tonight after meeting you. 
Your hand makes it to the doorknob, and as soon as you’ve pushed it open the cacophony from within is nearly too much. The screams from the crowd are more deafening than the music itself. The houselights have gone down and there’s a frenzy of new multicolored lights strobing Harry’s vision. It feels as if the two of you walked back inside to a completely separate event and Harry, for lack of a better term, feels high as balls. 
Harry has to really focus on raising his loud enough voice to tell you, “Wow, I can’t believe the guest is someone I actually listen to!” 
You turn to him, adorably wide-eyed as you yell back, “You like him too?!”
Harry nods, deciding that it’s time to be a gentleman and take the lead through the suddenly dense crowd. He switches things so that his hand is the one more in control of your now linked fingers, nodding down at you as he moves past and starts to lead you instead. “I do! One of my favorites!”
“I would have never guessed that in a million years!” You shout, expression dumbfounded. He frowns at you a little, mildly self conscious as he shouts back, “Why? Because I’m old?”
Harry feels relieved when that question seems to surprise you, and he loves the way you roll your eyes at him in a bratty sort of way, raising your voice to tell him, “You’re old-er, not old! And no, because you’re a fancy rich guy and this is not the kind of music fancy rich people listen to.”
“There’s more to me than meets the eye. And the pocketbook, for that matter,” Harry says, willing you to feel how true that statement is for him.
“Me too,” you concede, face softening.
The two of you lock eyes for a long moment, and Harry feels this swelling in his chest he’s never felt before. The pressure of it is nearly painful, but then it morphs into something else entirely as it unfurls through his being like a warm drink on a cold day spreading through his belly. He really must be more intoxicated than he realized.
What the hell was that?
*****
Harry leads you into the main room of the event space, and the crowd is literally losing their minds over the man sauntering across the stage with a microphone in his hand. As he spouts off lyrics in Spanish and the crowd joins in enthusiastically, a grin spreads across the musician’s handsome features. His stylish outfit is impeccable and his curly hair looks so soft, even at a distance. He’s more attractive in real life than you could have anticipated from pictures and music videos. But even still, he doesn’t hold a candle to the suave gentleman whose fingers are laced with yours. You’d thought Bad Bunny was going to be the one and only man holding your attention tonight, even back when it was still a huge possibility that Van was full of shit. 
You hadn’t accounted for meeting Harry Castillo. 
“Oh, fuck ,” you say to yourself, but loud enough for Harry to hear over all the noise. “I can’t believe it’s really Benito! This is not how I expected my day to go when I got up this morning!”
“Those are always the best days,” Harry responds, grinning as he yanks you forward more. “Do you want me to get you all the way down to the front? I’ll stay with you and keep you safe.”
“Please stay with me,” you agree, still marveling at the fact that there’s a man here who’s captivated your attention far more than the musician you came here to see. 
Harry nods once and tightens his grip on your hand, starting to strongly push his way through the crowd onto the main dance floor. It’s such a contrast to how this place looked an hour ago, and seeing all of these stuffy people in fine clothing bump and grind is a sight you didn’t think you’d ever see. The energy feels like that of the raves you used to attend as a younger woman. 
It takes a few moments, but eventually Harry’s able to shove his way through the various groups and couples and you’re right up in front of the small stage. A flash of familiar light pink to your right catches your attention, and you see Vanessa and Charles dancing together just beside you. Harry must have brought you to her on purpose. Good thing he’s tall enough to see over the crowd, because you never would have spotted her. 
When Vanessa notices you, she lets go of Charles and flings herself into your arms with a girly, high-pitched squeal of delight. 
“Thank you, bitch!” You scream to her, grinning like a madwoman.
“You’re welcome, bitch!” She screams back, and then, at no surprise to you at all, she presses her lips to yours in a quick but heated kiss. Her lips massage yours, uncaring if lipstick gets misplaced along the way. Just as your tongue flicks along the tip of hers, she breaks apart from you with a wink and a grin. You give her a disappointed little huff for ending that so quickly. 
When you both notice Harry and Charles staring at the two of you with slack-jawed expressions, you and Vanessa both burst out into laughter. It’s all barely audible over the concert. The men lock eyes for a moment and then share a quick shrug of confused comradery, and at that moment Vanessa flings herself back into Charles’ arms. She’s definitely drunk, because drunk Vanessa’s favorite thing in the world is kissing. And she’s already got her tongue buried so deeply in Charles’ mouth that you’re sure word of their confirmed relationship will have spread around to all of their coworkers by morning. So much for secrets. 
With a shake of the head you’re facing Harry again, and he’s looking down at you with lust in those inviting chocolate eyes of his. 
Slightly dilated pupils land on your lips for a moment, and his tongue darts out from between his teeth to wet his own a little as he lifts his hand to his own face. When his tongue appears again not a moment later, this time to run slowly over the pad of his thumb, a distinct and familiar throbbing heats up between your legs. All at once you’re desperate to feel that tongue run slowly over your aching, needy nub.
Harry’s palm finds your cheek, and he swabs his moist thumb just below the corner of your mouth. You just knew some of Van’s pink lipstick had smeared onto you, which is surely in contrast to your own dark red lip liner look. As he wipes it away, you can’t help but think that if you were in a different setting you’d have half a mind to draw the appendage between your lips and show him just exactly what your intentions are with a move far too sultry for a public place. 
You realize that you’re the one staring at his lips now, licking your own in anticipation. Once Harry’s finished ridding you of the unwanted lipstick, you nod at him in an attempt to give your silent approval if he truly wants to kiss you. A great thrill runs through you when he leans down and presses his lips to yours in response.
Finally , you think blissfully as your eyes close and your hands immediately find the lapel of his suit jacket, clinging to him for dear life. He tastes of whiskey and your dab pen, and his lips are so incredibly soft and inviting as you brazenly deepen the kiss with your own parting mouth. He lets you do it easily, and you’re so desperate to feel his warm tongue touch you anywhere if you can’t feel it touch you there .
His other hand flies to your waist, fingers gripping into the fabric of your dress. The two of you stay like that for a long moment, but then suddenly Harry is breaking the kiss, spinning you around to face forward towards the stage. His mouth is against your ear, “You came here to see him, so watch him. You can have plenty of me later. If you want me, of course.”
“I want you,” you breathe honestly, relishing in the truth of it. You feel his nose brush your bare shoulder, mustache tickling you before he presses a chaste kiss to the exposed flesh. 
Harry’s hips find yours from behind, and his hands find generous amounts of your body to hold on to as the music really starts to flow through both of you. Song after song you and Harry move in sync. 
Occasionally Vanessa comes back over and the two of you share a moment of joyful hip grinding, hands and lips briefly all over each other before she goes back to Charles. That only seems to rile your own dance partner up more.
Sometimes, much to your surprise when you first hear it, Harry dips his head in and you feel the rumble of him singing along to the lyrics as he presses into you. He hadn’t been full of shit when he said that this was music he actually listens to.
When Bad Bunny is halfway through HIBIKI , Harry has the audacity to sing the line “ b aby, te lo meto si me das permiso” which you know roughly translates to “baby, I'll give it to you if you give me permission.” The song itself is sexy sounding but angsty in content, and yet even still Harry is somehow masterfully using the promiscuous lyrics to his advantage. This man knows exactly what he’s doing. With his hot mouth up against your right lobe and what you’re sure is the beginnings of a hard on pressing just below the small of your back, you’re certain you’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad in your entire life. 
Then a line later, you can feel him slip the hairpin holding your bun from your head, and your hair falls down over your shoulders in a cascade of waves.
Harry’s hand moves the tresses off your right shoulder and his voice is in your ear, singing, “Jalarte po' el pelo, despeinarte toda, después te doy chavo pal′ beauticion.” With that he very gently tugs on the locks once, before running his fingers up under your hair to massage the back of your head. As Harry sings the next line after that, his other hand slyly slinks around to bunch up the fabric of your skirt and you feel his warm hand grazing your inner thigh. “En ese totito cabe perfecto mi bicho.”
Pull your hair, mess it up, then I'll give you money for a beautician. That little pussy fits my dick perfectly.
Thank god the venue is so loud that you’re probably actively getting hearing damage, because otherwise the moan which escapes your mouth would have probably drawn attention to the increasingly inappropriate dancing going on between you and Harry Castillo. A quick glance around the pit suggests that nearly everyone seems to be dancing like that, some not holding back whatsoever, and so you suppose what you and Harry are doing probably looks tame. 
But it doesn’t feel tame. It feels like he’s tapped into that deeper part of you and you’re ready to let her out. 
Mercifully or tragically, you’re not sure which, the music switches over from hip-grinding hiphop to hip-swaying salsa, and Harry’s grip on you eases up. Your skirt drops back down just past your knees and the spot where his hand was feels empty. Wishing to see his face again, you spin around in his arms so that his hands are practically cupping your ass. 
You’re tired of shouting, so with hands on his broad shoulders you’re lifting up on your tiptoes to speak directly into his ear.
“Do you know how to salsa?” You ask.
He shakes his head, causing his earlobe to graze your lip. Then he’s brushing your hair to the side to speak in your ear again, “A little when I was a kid, but not really. I’d love to take lessons if I had a good dance partner.”
 ���I would too,” you agree, looking over where Vanessa and Charles are doing the moves perfectly. “Those two make me so fucking jealous, but don’t tell her I said that.”
“So I don’t have to worry about her stealing you away tonight?”
“Nah, Van is a very lovey dovey drunk and I am her very willing and bisexual best friend. Usually we’re out at a club when she’s like that and I’d rather have her kiss me than some skeezey dude who might want to roofie her drink. That’s her boyfriend, Charles, she’s dancing with. So I’m off the hook tonight.”
“Mm, good,” Harry breathes, smirking as his eyes flick down to your lips. “More for me, then.”
*****
A few songs and an encore later, your favorite musician is gone as quickly as he appeared, and the surrealness of the last nearly hour and a half washes over you just as the houselights wash over the dissipating crowd. You’re covered in sweat and so horny you’re sure you’re going to burst. Harry hasn’t left your side since the moment the two of you locked eyes at the bar, and after feeling him grind into you like that for so long you’re determined not to leave his side until you’ve been satiated. This man has you so feral for him that you’re not even processing the fact that you just got to see your dream musical performance. 
He’s ditched his suit jacket, keeping it flung over one shoulder as he guides you away from the stage with a hand on your moist back. Vanessa and Charles are following close behind, attempting to keep their hands to themselves now that their coworkers can see them. You’re dying to tell her that ship has already sailed, but they can figure that out for themselves.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” you marvel, ears ringing in the quiet left behind from the show. 
Harry smiles at you fondly, “I’m glad I didn’t leave when I was going to. That was great, and I’m grateful I got to experience it with you.”
“Me too,” you agree, blushing a little from the genuineness of Harry’s tone. “So tell me how you got into him, because I am dying to know. You really knew your shit out there.”
Harry shrugs,  “My brother’s about your age and he’s obsessed. We did a week in Mexico for his bachelor party last year and he played Bad Bunny nonstop. After that I was hooked.”
“Mm, fair. Is your brother here?”
Harry grins wickedly, “No, he didn’t want to come. I cannot wait to rub it in his face when I head to the office on Monday.” Then he’s grabbing your hand to kiss the back of it. “Thank you for dancing with me.”
Seeing the older brother side of him for a moment strikes your heart with a little flare of something more than lust for this man. He’s wonderfully adorable. “You were an excellent partner, Harry. Did you enjoy being high for that?”
He nods, glancing at you almost knowingly. “It certainly enhanced things. It’s mostly worn off for me, though.”
A sly smile finds your lips. “I could use some more.” 
“You could use some water ,” Harry practically chides, though that smile he’s wearing for you doesn’t falter. “I’ll get you some, stay here.”
With that, he leaves you standing by a marble pillar as he slides up to the crowded bar. 
Vanessa moves in beside you, poking you in the cheek with a pink fingernail. Charles seems to have gone off to do his job. 
“Someone’s going to get laid for real tonight!”
“Shh! Keep your fucking voice down!” You hiss, mortified. What she said was vague enough that anyone within earshot would just assume you masturbate a lot or something, but that feeling of dread in your chest just sobered you up more than the dancing had.  “He doesn’t know about that.”
“Are you going to tell him?” She asks.
You shake your head grimly. “I told him I’m a smut author.”
Vanessa scoffs loudly. “Bitch your Ao3 does not fucking count.”
God, you could kill her just as much as you could kiss her sometimes. “It was the best I could come up with, Van. I’d like to see you come up with something better if you were in my position.”
She frowns, looking at you seriously. “If you see him again after tonight you need to come clean. He seems like a catch and he seems completely enamored with you. Maybe you can actually reel this one in.”
“He’s not a fish,” you say with an eye roll. 
“No, he’s a sexy rich man who’s exactly your type.”
“I don’t care that he’s rich, you know that.”
“But you do care that he’s devilishly handsome and older than you.” 
“Boy, do I,” you say dreamily as you watch him turn from the bar with three bottles of water. 
“He doesn’t have to be a sugar daddy to be a daddy.” Vanessa sends you her signature wink at that last statement. 
You shove her playfully. “That’s enough out of you. He’s on his way back. You and I will discuss this at home.”
“Aye aye, captain!” Vanessa says with a giggle and a salute, clearly still feeling her alcohol. Then her eyes widen as she looks over your shoulder and suddenly shouts, “But I’m going home with Charles, just so you know!”
Glaring sharply, you know exactly what she’s doing despite whisper-asking her, “What are you doing?!” 
“Getting him to take you home,” she whispers back. 
As if you needed help. 
“Did I hear that you need a ride?” Harry asks, handsome as ever as he looks down at you. He looks so good that it’s overwhelming, dark hair even darker now that it’s damp from dancing, the pink flush in his cheeks slowly starting to fade. His white dress shirt seems damp in a few places and he’s rolled his sleeves up to expose his toned forearms. Harry hands you and Vanessa a bottle of water before unscrewing the cap of his own and downing several gulps with his head turned slightly. There’s that beautiful side profile again.
Christ have mercy, how are you turned on by watching someone drink water? The way his lips are pursed against the bottle, the bob of his Adam's apple as the drink flows down his throat. The little flick of his tongue on the edge of the rim to catch that last stray drop. 
Fuck .
Vanessa elbows you, and you have to literally shake your head to dislodge from the stupor he just had you in. Words? What are those?
“Uh, yes, I was just going to grab a taxi,” you say, taking a generous sip of your own water while you recover. 
“I’ve already called for my driver to come pick me up. I’m happy to take you somewhere.” Harry offers generously.
You smirk. “I distinctly recall someone wanting to get greasy food after this.”
He grins. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“I was really high, wasn’t I?”
“You were. But I liked it, and I’m craving a cheesesteak.”
“A cheesesteak it is, then.”
The two of you stand there, staring into each other’s eyes for a long moment, sharing a silent mutual agreement that the rest of the night is about to be shared in each other’s company. Though, as is the delicate dance between men and women, and despite how forward Harry had been with you on the dance floor, you’ll both still skirt around the subject until it actually happens. 
*****
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ace-of-zaun · 6 months ago
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Kiss Me More. Pt 3:
silco x f!reader - 2.8k words - SFW
cw: angst, Silco being the most clueless mf to ever live (but he’s also a sweetheart, so we’ll forgive him just this once), fluff, Vander being lovely, mentions of poverty, arguments, references to sex, Seven is the actual worst, kind of an angsty end to the chapter (thought i'd mention it just in case)
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4
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Silco has mentioned Seven and your date with him that many times in the past week, you’re genuinely starting to worry he’s got an unhealthy obsession with the boy. 
In fact, he’s brought it up so often, you can tell just by the way Silco takes a breath that he's going to start yet another rant about your situationship, prompting you to scuttle away from him the second he opens his mouth to speak. 
It doesn’t put you off going on your date. If anything, it makes you even more determined to push back against Silco and prove to him that you can do this, with or without his support.
So, you go on your second date with Seven. 
He’d somehow managed to visit you every single day at work following your first date, which caused a giddy, cherished sort of feeling the first two times it happened, but now kind of irritates you after eight consecutive days of it. 
Now, it just feels clingy and suffocating, and you’re getting slightly worried your boss is going to get mad at you for wasting time at work. 
Luckily, Seven hadn’t asked you to go swimming on your date, (or, skinny dipping, as Silco had told you was his actual meaning, approximately six thousand times). Instead, he’d walked you to one of the little piers overlooking the river, where you’d sat side by side and shared a simple picnic. 
It was nice. Mostly. 
Seven had pretty much just talked about himself the entire time (again), and had even interrupted you the one time you tried to tell him about the new vinyl you’d excitedly bought on sale at the market. (So what if you can’t play it or listen to it just yet, Seven, you’ll be able to afford a phonograph one day, and you can just admire the sleeve artwork until then!)
Towards the end of the date, he’d finally kissed you, softer than you were expecting after the bold way he’d previously tried to kiss you outside your apartment.
But there hadn’t been any butterflies, or that wonderful, little spark you’ve often heard people describing when they speak of their first kisses. (Kinda, sorta like the way you felt when you’d kissed Silco…)
Kissing Seven, you hadn’t really felt anything at all, except, slightly icky and a little bit disappointed.
So now, you arrive home from the pier on your own (Seven had apparently been too busy to walk you back this time) with a strange sort of empty feeling emanating from your chest. Like someone has stolen a couple of your ribs while you weren’t looking. 
But a warm sense of relief and delight quickly replaces that feeling when you spot Vander sprawled out on the sofa, arms spread out across the back, head tilted up to the ceiling. 
It’s rare to see him at home, what with his long hours down the mine and evenings tending the bar. And it shows. Tired eyes and limbs betraying just how shattered he must be after all those hours of work. 
You’re desperate to tell him to give up the extra shifts at the bar. But you’re genuinely not sure if the three of you would be able to stay together without it. Maybe you should ask if you could pick up some of his shifts instead, give him a few nights off. Janna knows he deserves it.
Vander looks up when you gently click the front door closed, sitting up properly while you toe off your shoes to join the line along the wall. 
“Hey, you’re home,” you say. 
“I am,” he replies, easy smile to mask his exhaustion. “How was your date?”
Part of you had hoped he’d forgotten so you wouldn’t have to talk about it. But Vander’s far too thoughtful for that. 
“Ah, you know…” you say, looking down at your feet bashfully. 
“That bad?”
“I wouldn't say bad.” You sigh, dropping down next to him on the sofa.
You rest your head against his shoulder, tucking your feet under your legs in an attempt to get comfortable. Vander places his arm around your shoulder and gently pulls you towards him, until you’re leaning against his side.
You’ve always secretly thought of him as your wise, older brother. The one who always knows what to say and how to say it. The person you can always rely on.
"But not good?" he asks, genuinely. 
This time, the sigh you give feels like it radiates from your whole body. 
“It’s just…I didn’t expect any of it to feel like this, I thought I was supposed to feel…”
You don’t really know, to be honest. You’ve only ever heard people describe their experiences with love or dating, so you’re not completely sure what you’re supposed to feel. 
But something deep down is telling you, ‘not like this’.
“Feel what, lass?” Vander prods gently. 
“I don’t know,” you finally admit. 
Van nods in understanding, gently tapping your bicep twice before rubbing up and down your arm soothingly. 
“Maybe you just need a bit more time to get to know him,” he says, offering you the advice you’d been too nervous to ask for. “D’ya think you’ll see him again?”
You tilt your head to the side, worrying your lip with your pointer finger and thumb. 
“He asked me to go on another date with him tomorrow,” you say, pushing down the fact it feels like a shameful confession. “I said yes but-”
And then Silco storms into the room, looking like he’s spitting nails. 
“You're not seriously going on another date with that greasy-haired freak?" he demands, apropos of absolutely nothing. 
Immediately, you push yourself from Vander’s embrace to sit up and glare at him. Trust Silco to ruin the nice moment you were having. 
“Seriously, what have you got against him?”
Silco ignores you, clearly on a rampage that could only be fuelled by pure insanity. 
“You can't go on another date with him,” he announces firmly. 
"What? Why?" 
You wait, with a truly impressive amount of patience if you do say so yourself, for Silco to explain himself. To present his infallible, incredibly coherent, astonishingly well-thought out argument as to why you can’t go on another date with the person you are currently dating. 
"Because he's gross,” he says. 
You could really, honestly smack him. 
"No, he's not." 
"I don't think you should see him anymore," he continues. 
“Silco. I’m not a child, you can’t just tell me what to do,” you say, feeling the anger beginning to bubble away inside you. Silco knows exactly how to push your buttons and he knows it. 
“Yes, I can,” he argues, arms crossed against his chest. 
You narrow your eyes dangerously. 
“No, you can’t.” 
“Alright, that’s enough, you two,” Vander interrupts before one of you tackles the other and turns the argument into a childish scrap in the middle of the room.
Sil huffs dramatically and uncrosses his arms. Then, clearly not knowing what to do with them as they hang awkwardly by his side, he decides to cross them again. 
“Fine. I wasn't going to say anything, but I spoke to a guy at the mines who knows him and he's… got a bit of a reputation."
"What do you mean, ‘reputation’?"
"I mean, he's dated just about every girl in the Undercity," Silco stresses.
You frown at this new information, but honestly, deep down, you don’t really care. Even the mental image of Seven kissing other people doesn’t spark that jealousy in you that it did when you’d pictured Silco experiencing his first kiss. 
But admitting that to him feels like defeat so instead you say, "Well, maybe he just hasn't found the one yet." 
Silco scoffs obnoxiously.
"What, and you think you're the one?" he says sarcastically. His tone is a little bit on the mean side. Like he’s implying that you’re not good enough for Seven.
And honestly, it stings. It hurts and it makes you angry. You thought after all these years that Silco cared about you, that he wanted the best for you. 
But all he’s done for the past few weeks is question you constantly when all you needed was just a little support from your best friend.
And, gods, you know that you don’t really mean any of it, but there’s a burning, horrible impulse to hurt Silco like he’s been hurting you, so you stand up to face him square on.
"And what if I am, huh?” you begin.
Of course, Silco immediately goes to interrupt, but you steamroll ahead. 
“You know what, Silco, maybe I’ll just go and stay with him if you’re that wound up about it. Actually, yeah.” You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, before looking him dead in the eye. “No need to wait up for me after my date tomorrow, I’ll just stay at his for the night.”
Silco looks absolutely horrified, face draining at the implication (that you don’t mean at all, honestly, you can’t think of anything worse than spending the night with Seven). 
But Silco doesn’t have to know that.
He steps forward a little and says your name, really quite desperately.
“Wait-”
There’s no way you’re letting him get the last word, so you stalk out the living room and into your bedroom without a backward glance, slamming the door shut behind you for good measure.
You drop onto your bed, desperately trying not to cry as you slap your hands over your face, like it’ll hold everything in. 
You just don’t get why Silco is acting like this. 
And the more time you spend with Seven, the more sure you are that he’s actually quite a repulsive, self-centered person. But you don’t know how to fix any of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into and all you really want is your best friend back. 
You just want everything to go back to the way it was.
Is that too much to ask? 
-
You haven’t spoken a word to Silco since your argument. Even after Vander had carefully explained that Silco probably didn’t mean what he’d said, you don’t want to hear it. The hurt is still too raw to forgive him yet. 
Everything has changed since you kissed. Now, your heart does this breathtaking little flip in your chest every time you see him, and all you can think about is kissing him again. But you're dating Seven and it's not like Silco likes you anyway, so there’s no point in entertaining it. 
Gods, you wish you could just stop feeling like this. 
You force yourself to go on another date with Seven, even though you had originally been planning on cancelling when you were talking about it to Vander. Now, you’re going just to spite Silco. 
So that’s how you find yourself walking through the city’s sprawling market stalls with Seven, kinda wishing you were anywhere else. You’re not really buying any of the products for sale because neither of you can afford much of anything at the moment, which just makes you feel all deflated. 
And Seven is holding your hand as you stroll along, but honestly, you wish he wasn’t. His hands are a bit sweaty and he’s gripping your knuckles just a bit too tightly for comfort. You have to keep letting go to wipe your hand on your leg and it’s starting to get really quite embarrassing. 
Just as you’re on the cusp of deciding whether to fake some kind of horrific illness or whether it’d be too dramatic to just flee Zaun and adopt a whole new identity, you’re saved by a tall figure stumbling into your side.
You only just manage to stop yourself from tripping to the ground, thankfully righting yourself before you can fall, just to look up in confusion at-
Silco. Who looks down at you with the most unapologetic expression you’ve ever seen in your life.
It’s clear he’s followed you because why else would he be in the market, he hates the market when it’s busy. He once said he’d rather run naked through the streets of Piltover in front of the Council building than risk the ‘throngs of dawdling idiots’ on a busy market day. 
"Hey, fancy bumping into you!” Silco acts surprised, completely over the top and almost embarrassingly unconvincing. He’s not getting a job in the Piltie theatre anytime soon, that’s for sure. 
Then, his expression drops when he glances at Seven, like there’s suddenly a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth. “Oh. What’s he doing here?”
You resist the urge to scream, finally letting go of Seven’s hand to step away from him.
"Silco-" 
"We're on a date." Seven finally speaks, looking thoroughly annoyed at the interruption. Even more annoyed than when Silco was rude to him outside your apartment. 
"Really?" Silco questions. He looks pointedly at the distance between the two of you and then stares obstinately at Seven. "Doesn't look like it to me." 
"Look, mate-" 
Silco cuts him off with deadly sharp precision. 
"You know, Six, I think we have a mutual acquaintance," he says, timbre turning positively dangerous. "Her name’s Lia. Works at the mines? That ring any bells in your dense, little head?" 
At this, Seven’s face pales. Rapidly. 
"Never heard of her," he insists, far too quickly to be anything but a lie. 
Then, he turns to you, snatching up your hand again. 
"Let's go, doll, we don’t have to put up with this." 
Silco’s expression darkens immeasurably, clenching his fists by his sides as he steps forward, but you beat him to the punch, ripping your hand out of Seven’s grasp. 
Fuck this. 
"You know what, I've just remembered that there's something that I need to do," you snap, borderline shouting over them when they both jump to speak. "Alone." 
Turning on your heel, you stalk off in the opposite direction, automatically heading towards the River without even really thinking about it. It’s the place you usually end up when you need to clear your head, and right now, you just need some peace and quiet.
You’re only a few streets away from the market when you hear Silco following you, knowing after all these years the loping strides of his gait by heart. When he makes no sign of stopping, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. 
"Please don’t." 
He says your name pleadingly but you shake your head. 
"I don't want to hear it, Silco," you say, a wave of exhaustion sweeping your bones.  
You’re far, far too tired for this.
"But he's-" 
"Why are you going out of your way to sabotage this for me?" you ask, absolutely detesting the way your voice wobbles on the last few words. 
Silco’s expression flickers, clearly torn between giving you space and stepping forward to comfort you. He ends up shoving his hands into his pockets defensively, but not without inching just that little bit closer to you. 
"I'm not trying to sabotage anything, I'm just trying to protect you," he replies, tone soft. An attempt at reassurance. 
"From what?" you ask.
"From getting hurt.”
He bites his lip, determined and desperately worried all at once. 
You sigh heavily, scrubbing a hand over your face.  
"I just don't get it, Sil, I don't get why you're doing all this," you say, letting your arms drop wearily by your side. 
He seems almost startled by your need for an explanation, uncharacteristically sheepish for the briefest moment as you watch him expectantly. 
"I… I just…" 
And then, as you continue to wait, his expression shutters, turning stony and closed off, and you know you’re not going to get anything from him now. Certainly not anything honest or in the least bit vulnerable. 
You bite your lip hard to stop the burning tears from falling. 
"Just go home, Silco," you say. You sniff back the tears, dejected but accepting. "I'll see you later.”
It breaks your heart to watch the way his shoulders slump but his expression still doesn’t crack. And he still doesn’t say a word when you slowly turn and walk away from him. He doesn’t stop you. 
The next few days feel like a haze of misery; a looping, unfathomable rhythm of going to work and returning home in silence, trying to ignore the way he watches you walk through the flat with a terribly lost expression, like you’ve slipped from his grasp.
You can’t bring yourself to talk to him, even though it physically hurts you to ignore him like this, the irony of not being able to talk to the one person who you can always go to. 
And with Vander gone so often, you’re left to just sit silently in your bedroom, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering where the hell it all went wrong. 
PART 4
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a/n: I’m sorry for such an angsty end to this chapter, lots of fluff and comfort in the next one, i promise!! (and this story will def have a happy ending, i think i’m physically incapable of writing sad endings, it’s just not in my dna)
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super secret taglist 😎: @oceansssblue, @inolaphoenix , @holographicgarden , @darlingimafangirl , @rainyforest777 , @kikiiswashere , @deviantgamergirl , @miffysoo , @eternallyvenus
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louisupdates · 5 months ago
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If you’ve been on social media today, you may have seen a certain word trending: Zouis. But what does it mean? Well, Zouis is portmanteau of Zayn and Louis. Specifically, Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson from One Direction.
The pair were spotted together in Los Angeles, with Tomlinson attending Malik’s gig—sending the internet into a frenzy
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With Zouis spreading like wildfire on social media, this story operates as an interesting example of how fandoms can deal with grief, and, for once, how the internet can be a positive communal force.
What’s Happening With Zouis? Why Were Zayn Malik And Louis Tomlinson Together?
Zayn Malik is currently on his Stairway To The Sky tour, and is playing several nights at the Shrine Expo Hall in Los Angeles, California.
Louis Tomlinson—who was in boyband One Direction with Malik—attended the show on Jan. 29. This is the first time the pair, known as Zouis, have been together publicly since One Direction bandmate Liam Payne’s funeral on Nov. 20, 2024.
After Malik left the group in 2015, One Direction broke up the year after, and the members have rarely been together since, with each pursuing solo careers.
This makes the appearance of Zouis a special moment for fans, as well as seemingly for Malik and Tomlinson themselves, with the former referencing his bandmate’s attendance at his concert in glowing terms:
How Did Social Media React The Appearance Of Zouis?
The online world went wild for the return of Zouis. There are tens of thousands of tweets about the event. Many of which show pure enthusiasm:
While others contain simple declarations of love towards Zouis:
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There’s a sombre tone to some posts which reference the death of Liam Payne:
While difference accounts are self-referential about their own reaction to the partial One Direction reunion:
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There’s one overwhelming trend though: pure excitement and adulation.
Why Is Social Media Reacting To Zouis In This Way?
There are a few things at play. Firstly, One Direction fans are renowned for their obsession with the group. Combined with the size of the boyband—3.4 million people saw them during their Where We Are tour alone—this means there’s a huge community of interested people whenever news about them drops. Like Zouis.
But there’s also a more sombre side to this overwhelming online reaction, and that can be linked to a sense of loss.
It’s common for fans to form parasocial relationships with people they follow. Effectively, this is when individuals believe they have a close tie with public figures, even though this is a one-way friendship. Often, this is driven by the perceived intimacy of social media.
This can induce serious emotions. So, when a member of a group like One Direction passes away, as is the case with Liam Payne, it can feel as though someone they’re close with had died.
When Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson came together for the first time since the funeral, it can feel like a cathartic moment for fans, as though things are righting themselves. One way of dealing with this outpouring of emotion, then, is to post on social media.
And that’s a key way of viewing this explosion of activity about Zouis: a celebration.
People are not only expressing joy at seeing members of One Direction together, but this enthusiasm also acts a tribute to Liam Payne. This creates a sense of community, of an entire fandom coming together and praising a new chapter in something they love.
Ultimately, the spread of posts about Zouis displays a positive side to social media, one where people share a connection and come together in unity. In these divided times, that’s a beautiful thing to see.
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barefoot-joker · 9 months ago
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Snake in the Garden Pt 5~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader
Hey, guys! Welcome back to Snake in the Garden! I do apologize for my long absence. College has started back up; my depression has been kicking my butt and writing block for this chapter were just a few reasons for the delay. However, I'm back with a bang! I highly recommend reading the warnings on this chapter as it does get a bit intense. Oh, and from the bottom of my heart: thank you all so much for supporting this fanfiction! I cherish every like, reblog and read every comment posted on each chapter. I plan to have multiple parts after this one, so I hope you stay. Also, the taglist is open, so if you'd like to be added don't hesitate to comment! As always, have a great day/night and enjoy part five!
Words: 9626
Warnings: Swearing (more than usual), Non-Con Touching, Non-Con Kissing, Non-Con Sexual Advances/Harassment, Reader is forced to wear skimpy clothes, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Body Horror, Lots of Blood, Various Characters gain Trauma from Lucifer, Lucifer goes into Beast Mode, Lucifer's Obsession goes off the rails, Possessive treatment to Reader, Talk of hanging by snake, Kidnapping, Talk of watching someone die, Major Yandere Behavior from Lucifer, Reader gets Pushed Around, Reader gets put in a Cell, Degrading Name Calling-mainly to Reader, Talk of Cannibalism, Reference to Disturbing use of Body Parts, Talk of Sexual Actions, Talk of Drinking Blood, Reader Suffers Abundantly in this Chapter, Seriously who gave Lucifer a Sword
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
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I gasped and my eyes widened as I stared at the two beings in my living room. The one who spoke was a larger man. He appeared to have a dad bod underneath his white, purple and gold robe. The black mask he wore had two large horns attached and his golden facial features held a smug look. Behind him stood a female. She too wore a black mask, her horns curled inwards. She appeared to be wearing a black tunic with black skin tight pants and light gray thigh high boots to match. The crude white stitched mouth scowled at me, almost acting like I was wasting her time. I gulped, both sets of eyes watching me like a hawk. “W-who are you? What do you want?”
The masked man set down his bag of Doritos (which I realized were from my cupboard) and offered a hand. “The name’s Adam, sweetheart. I’m the First Man.”
I looked down at his hand and then back at him. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “If you’re the First Man, does that mean that Lucifer sent you to come get me?”
I stepped back in fear as he cackled, holding his stomach. “Heavens no! I hate that son of a bitch!”
I lowered my guard a bit. “If you’re not with him, why are you here?”
Adam stopped laughing and brushed his robe. “I’ve come to take you to Heaven with me.”
“But I have no business there. I’m not even dead!”
“I can grant you permission. Let’s say it's one of the perks of being a celebrity.”
He pointed his fingers at me as if they were guns and he clicked his tongue. I looked between him and his companion. She tilted her head towards her master as if to say take his hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Come on! Lucifer can’t touch you while you’re on Holy ground. And I have a funny feeling he’d like to get his claws on you, if you know what I’m saying.”
I cringed in disgust at what he was implying. “Besides, I can be your bodyguard! I have special privileges being famous after all. And my wingspan is bigger than Lucifers!”
I looked down at my engagement ring. The snake seemed to coil tight around my finger as the eye glimmered, daring me to trust in the Heavenly man’s words. I bit my lip and looked up at him, his female companion now by his side. The sword at her side glinted and I could picture it ramming into my fiance. I could see the light leave his eyes and blood spill down his snow white skin. The betrayal would show on his face as it had mine when he took me to Hell. I felt my lips twitch into a smile as I realized that maybe, just maybe, these two were my allies. My eyes met Adam’s and I gave a quick nod. “I’ll go with you.”
His smile curled up by his eyes. “Good choice, babe. Lute prepare the portal.”
“Yes, sir.”
The woman stepped forward and raised her sword to the sky. She began to draw a symbol that looked like a cross and chanted under her breath. “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, let these three souls enter Heaven freely.”
As soon as she finished, gold mist began to circle the ceiling. It began to sprinkle down around us, causing me to sneeze. “Bless you.”
“Thanks.”
I looked up and was amazed to see a bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Sunlight streamed down and it felt warm on my skin. “It’s ready, sir.”
“C’mon, babe! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”
“Wait!”
I brought my fingers around my ring and forced it off. Relief flooded my body as I set it on the coffee table and I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was finally free. “I’m ready now.”
I let out a squeak as he hoisted me up by my waist, his hand traveling a bit low to my butt. I didn’t have much time to think about it because his golden wings opened up and pushed us upwards. The wind from the angel’s wings swept my hair and I couldn’t help but let out a gasp. Even on a bright sunny day on Earth that sky couldn’t compare to Heaven’s. The blue of the sky was a bright baby blue and the clouds were the purest of white. I reached out a hand and laughed at how light the cloud felt passing through my fingers. “Beautiful isn’t it,” Adam questioned.
“It’s better than I could have ever imagined!”
“This isn’t even the best part.”
I focused my gaze ahead of us and my eyes widened. I could see a patch of clouds with bright pastel colored buildings, almost too bright to stare at. We landed on said patch and the mist surrounding the area brushed away, bowing to the First Man. Adam set me down and I was hesitant to place my full weight down. The cloud itself was soft and yet I didn’t fall through. Casting my eyes up, I saw a golden fence stretching a long distance that I couldn’t even begin to see the end of. In the middle was a set of golden doors creating a gate, pearls and diamonds adorning the bars. I gasped as I realized these were the Pearly Gates that people claimed to see as they passed on. As soon as it clicked, a short, blonde haired man with lightly saturated clothes and white wings appeared behind a podium. He flashed a smile with his pearly whites and beckoned us over. “Hiya! Welcome to Heaven! Can I get your name please?”
“Oh, um, Y/n L/n.”
He flipped to the appropriate page in his large book and when he found it he used his index finger to skim through all the names. He muttered under his breath as he searched, his eyebrows wrinkling after a few seconds. “Um, I’m not seeing you on my list. Perhaps you’re in the wrong place-”
“She’s with me, pretty boy.”
Adam crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “I told you not to call me that. It’s Saint Peter. Besides, she has to be on my list if she’s passed on. She’s dead, right?”
“No, but-”
“Adam, you can’t just bring living people here! It’s against the rules! Oh my goodness, what if He finds out-”
“He won’t! Now let us in, jackass!”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I will not get in trouble again for your shenanigans!”
“You listen here-”
“What is going on here?”
All of us looked up to see two females flying down towards us. The one on the left was much taller than the one on the right. Both had gray dresses with purple and white accents. They landed in front of us and I could see them clearly. The one on the left appeared to be an adult woman with dark grayish brown skin. She had gray scaleras with white irises, long winged eyelashes and white freckles below her eyes. Her gray hair was long and was twisted into thick curls. A glowing white crown with blue jewels floated above her head as her black lips set in a frown. The one on the right looked like a child, her skin a lighter grayish brown tone. She too had white freckles under her blue eyes, the irises being an ombre of purple. Her light purple hair reached the hem of her dress and her black lips formed a pout. Both of their six white wings relaxed at their sides. “Sera, tell this dickhead to let us in! He has no right to keep us out here!”
“Sera, he brought in a human! One that has not yet passed on!”
The taller woman, Sera I assumed, raised her hand. “Enough. Let the girl speak on her own terms.”
Everyone turned their gaze towards me and I could feel my stomach twist in knots. My fingers fiddled with the fabric of my nightgown and I found my eyes were more interested in my bare feet. “Um, I’m Y-Y/n. I lived on Earth but Lucifer kidnapped me. He wants me to be his bride.”
I glanced back up at Sera and a shocked expression graced her features. In a second she flipped back to a more relaxed face, her black lips smiling at me. “My child, you have had quite the journey. Come.”
She moved to the side and gestured her hand towards the gate. I looked at Adam and he pushed me forward. “But, Sera-”
“It’s alright, Saint Peter. This is the one exception I will make.”
“Alright.”
He waved his hand and the gate opened, sunlight streaming through. I took a few hesitant steps forward and the four angels followed behind me. The buildings that I saw before glowed in the sunlight and the golden paved road appeared like marble. The two females stepped in front of me, calm smiles on their faces. “How rude of us to not introduce ourselves. I am Sera, the high Seraphim.” 
She bowed her head as the child-like angel giggled. She bounced in front of me and was quick to take my hand, shaking it ferociously. “I’m Emily, the other Seraphim! But you can call me Emmy, Em, E, whatever. Welcome to Heaven!”
I smiled and pulled my hand away from her light grip. “Thank you. It feels so surreal being here honestly. I didn’t picture Heaven to look like this.”
“We are quite the close knit community. Everyone is friendly, polite and the nicest of the nice. We pride ourselves on being the best and most innocent of creatures,” Sera said. 
“Oh you’re going to like it here, Y/n! We’ve got the most delicious food you’ll ever taste and the beds are like you’re sleeping on a cloud, they’re so soft! You can indulge in any hobby you like and we even have ice cream with rainbow sprinkles!”
I chuckled at Emily’s enthusiasm. “Sounds like fun. Where might I be staying, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“You’ll be with me, toots. I have several bedrooms in my bachelor pad.”
Adam wrapped an arm around my shoulder. His fingers played with the strap to my nightgown and I felt a pit in my stomach as he slid it down my shoulder. His black fingers caressed the skin and I couldn’t help the shiver that ran down my spine. I didn’t know what was worse: Lucifer’s gentle touch or Adam’s commanding one. “How about we get you something new to wear. Lute, take Y/n and get her some new clothes. While I enjoy seeing those pretty shins of yours Y/n, I prefer to see them just for myself.”
His fingers slightly dug into my shoulder and I gulped. Was he being possessive or was it just my imagination from being around Lucifer? Lute signaled for me to follow her and as we walked the golden road I wondered if I truly was in a better place. I thought back to Earth and how I longed to be there with S/o. I wondered if he was looking for me or if somehow the Devil made him forget all about me. I held onto the hope that he was searching everywhere, calling everyone he knew and scouring every town in our state. “Hey, pay attention! We’re here.”
“Sorry.”
I hadn’t noticed Lute had opened a wooden oak door and was pointing at it. I walked in and she shut it behind us. I looked around the room as she rummaged through a closet. The purple floor was made to look like tiled marble and the light blue walls were a pastel version of the sky. The bed itself was King size and had purple sheets and blankets to match. A white knit duvet laid over top and the whole thing looked so soft. A nightstand with a purple based lamp stood on either side of the oak headboard, a wooden oak desk stood under a stained glass window, a purple wooden dresser stood next to the door, and the purple closet was next to another wooden door. Lute walked over and threw a pile of clothes at my chest. I looked up at her and could feel the anger behind her mask. “This will be your room. Bathroom is behind that door. Change and roam around as you like. Just don’t disturb Adam or myself. We’re busy people, got it?”
I blinked in shock at her tone. Why was she so displeased with me? It was Adam’s idea to bring me here. When I didn’t answer, she grabbed me by the hair and pulled. I shrieked as searing pain tugged at my scalp. “I said, got it?”
It sounded like she was gritting her teeth. I nodded my head rapidly. “Yes, yes! I got it!”
As she let go, she pushed me and I landed on the edge of the bed. “Just because you're in Heaven doesn’t mean you’ll get Heavenly treatment. You’re only here because Adam said so. If it was my choice, you would still be rotting in Hell being Lucifer’s bitch.”
She scoffed and turned, her heeled boots clicking against the tiled floor. I sat in disbelief even as the door slammed behind Lute. Clearly she despised me. The question was why. It took me a few minutes to get over the awkward exchange, finally looking down at the pile of clothes. Lute had chosen a boring arrangement: a white tank top, a golden jacket that was just the neck, shoulders and puffy sleeves, dark purple puffy harem pants, and black gladiator sandals. While I matched Adam's color scheme, Lute made it so I didn't stand out. I sighed and walked to the other wooden door. Opening it, it did house a bathroom like she said. I stepped in and locked the door behind me. Sure, everyone is supposed to be friendly, but with the way Adam made me feel uncomfortable I was not risking my safety. The bathroom held a toilet, shower, and a white marble counter with a sink. Silently I stripped down and put on the angelic garments. I had to admit while the clothes Lucifer gave me were soft, these felt, well, heavenly. I looked at myself in the mirror above the counter. I looked so pale from receiving no sun down in Hell and my eyebags matched the purple of my pants. I sighed and turned the faucet onto cold water. The frigidness felt nice against my fingertips as I tested the temperature. Satisfied, I splashed water onto my face and rubbed it in thoroughly. I breathed in deep and looked at myself in the mirror once more. My cheeks felt a bit warm from the cool contact, but I felt a bit better nonetheless. Drying my hands on a towel hanging on a metal bar behind me, I unlocked the bathroom door and headed back into the bedroom. As I was trying to figure out where I was going to explore first, I heard two voices. Curious, I stepped to my bedroom door and opened it slowly. Nobody was in the hallway, but I could hear the muffled conversation taking place next to me. Hesitantly, I walked into the hall and to the golden door next to mine. I put my ear up close to the wood. I couldn’t tell exactly who was talking to one another, but from what I knew it sounded like Adam and Sera. “-can’t believe you would bring her here, Adam! Do you know how dangerous your actions are?!”
“Chill out, drama queen. Nothing is going to fucking happen, okay.”
“You don’t know what Lucifer is capable of.”
“The motherfucker hides during the exterminations. You really think he’d try and come up here?”
“Yes! When Lucifer desires something he won’t stop till it’s in his grasp. I fear he will make quite the grand entrance to come and retrieve his beloved.”
“Oh please. Even if he does come, I’ll have her wrapped around my finger to the point she’ll obey my every order.”
My eyebrows scrunched together. I could only assume they were talking about me. But why would Adam want me to comply with him? It’s not like I found him attractive or was even remotely interested in him. My ears caught onto light footsteps headed for the door, so I quickly rushed around a corner. I watched as Sera entered the hall, a look of disappointment gracing her features. She sighed and floated the opposite direction of me, Adam soon following after. I let my hands slip down to my sides and decided to take a walk to mull over the whole situation.
I didn’t really pay attention to where I was going, just focusing on my feet lifting up and down as I walked. It wasn’t till I heard ocean waves that made me stop. I looked to my left to see a gorgeous beach sitting in the distance. How odd.
I felt myself drawn to the calming sound of the tide seeping in and out as I made my way over. The wooden steps below my feet squeaked a bit and soon the white sand seeped around my sandals. I stopped at the water’s edge and closed my eyes. The breeze off the sea brushed against my flesh, the warmth feeling like a hug from a loved one. The smell of the salt reminded me of when S/o and I traveled a few towns over from ours to visit an aquarium. The animals were held in their natural waters behind glass panes, but the smell of rich salt permeated the air wherever you went. “Enjoying your freedom?”
My eyes shot open and I spun around. Laying on a long white beach chair was a taller woman. Her long blonde hair blew a bit in the breeze and caressed the top of the sand. She wore a dark purple sun hat with a lighter purple band, a dark purple bikini set, and purple rimmed sunglasses. Even though I couldn’t see her eyes, her aura wasn’t threatening. “W-what did you say?”
“I said enjoying your freedom, dearie?”
“Um, I guess. I mean I just got here so I wouldn’t know-”
“Come closer.”
I was taken aback by her tone. Though she was in a relaxed position, her voice was commanding, authoritative. I gulped and did as she requested. I stopped by her bare feet and could feel her eyes scanning me up and down. She hummed and her lips twitched into a small smile. “So you’re the one Lucifer is obsessed with now. I’ll admit I can see why. A pretty thing like you probably reminds him of the swans he would keep in gilded cages. While they weren’t ducks per say he found their beauty and grace appealing.”
I could feel my cheeks heat up at her compliment. “T-thank you?”
She chuckled and leaned back, soaking up the sun. “Your wedding will be the talk of Hell for quite a few months, I reckon. It’s not often that the King lends out his heart. You must be very special to him.”
“I found him as a snake. He was wounded and I patched him up. God, if only I hadn’t touched him I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
The woman scooted her feet over and patted the empty space on her chair. I sat sideways so I was able to glance at her. “So he took the form of a snake, eh? He hasn’t done that since he offered the apple to Eve. I always did find it interesting how slippery he could be, even when not in his snake form.”
“He’s so clingy. I hardly have any time to myself, he is always by my side. His claws touch me tenderly and when I look into his eyes all I can see is adoration. It’s disturbing.”
“Possessive as always. Perhaps your presence eases his depression.” 
“I guess. I just don’t understand why he can’t get it through his head that I don’t want to be with him.”
“It’s called ego, darling. His pride gets the better of him. It doesn’t help that he’s the sin of it either.”
I brought my hand up to sit in my lap and found myself fidgeting with the finger my engagement ring had been on. “Apparently he’s so in love with me that he forgets he was married before. I realize his wife, Lilith I think her name was, left him seven years ago but he acts like I’m his first love.”
The woman was silent for a moment, the calm of the tide being the only sound between us. “Sounds like he’s just trying to find someone who makes him happy.”
“Yes, but at the expense of my own happiness.”
The woman opened her mouth to say something, but a familiar voice made us both look up at the wooden stairs. Emily stood waving her arm, a giant smile on her face. “Adam said you’d be out wandering so I thought I’d catch up and show you the ropes!”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Come on! I have so much stuff to show you!”
I chuckled and stood up from the chair. Just as I started to walk away, the woman’s hand clung to my wrist. Her grip was firm but gentle, making me turn back towards her. With her free hand she slid her sunglasses down her nose just enough to see her eyes. My eyes widened to see her light purple irises gleaming at me. “Please take care of him for me, Y/n. I can tell he truly loves and adores you.”
She raised my hand to her lips and left a light kiss on my knuckles. “Y/n, come on!”
The woman let me slip my hand from her grasp and as I slowly walked away she pushed her sunglasses back up. I was dazed as I reached Emily on the stairs, still reeling from what the woman had said. “Oh I’m so excited to show you everything! I think I’ll take you to the park first, ooo! Or I could take you to the zoo! We’ve got all of the animals Noah had on the Ark and more!”
I didn’t say anything as she grabbed my hand and pulled me away. Before we got too far I looked back at the woman, her hair blowing in the breeze.
I didn’t really pay much attention to what Emily was showing me or what she was saying. I was too focused on my conversation with the woman on the beach. Her eyes felt so familiar to me and yet I couldn’t place where I had seen them before. “/n? Y/n? Are you listening?”
I shook my head to see the young Seraphim looking at me concerned. “Huh?”
“I asked what you thought of the sunset. Isn’t it pretty?”
I followed her arm to see her pointing ahead of us. The clouds around us had turned pink, orange and light purple while the Sun had been cast to be a golden orange. “Yeah, it’s cool.”
“Are you okay? You seem distracted.”
“It’s nothing.”
“You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.”
Emily placed a hand on my shoulder, her thumb rubbing light circles. While the offer was tempting I didn’t know if I should tell her anything. I mean what did she know about Lucifer? Would she understand how the woman and I had connected while talking of the Devil? I looked over at her and could feel a wave of calm hit. Emily had this aura of trust and care surrounding her; her eyes sparkled and a friendly smile was placed on her black lips. I let out a sigh. “The woman I was with on the beach. Who is she?”
The angel looked puzzled, holding her chin in between her index finger and thumb. “I’m not entirely sure. She just showed up one day with Adam and Lute. I tried to talk to her but she brushed me off. Come to think of it, she only really talks to Adam. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that she knew about Lucifer and I are to be wed soon. She also had information that isn’t known to the general public.”
“Maybe she heard it somewhere? I’ve heard Sera talk about Down Below every once in a while.”
“No, she knew too many details to have heard it in passing. Besides, she told me to take care of him, almost like she knew him personally. It was like she was giving me her blessing.”
“How mysterious.”
The two of us stood watching the sky slowly paint itself to night. It was refreshing to see something that S/o and I would watch any chance we got. “Y/n, may I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“What’s it like on Earth?”
I blinked a few times, stunned by her question. “You’ve never been?”
“No. I was created way after Lucifer fell. My only purpose is to make the winners happy and enjoy their eternal life here in Heaven. Sera doesn’t view my position as something needed in everyday human life.”
I hummed and stared at the night sky. A shooting star passed by and I smiled in wonder. “I find it to be a lovely place. The town I live in is a nice community. Everyone knows their neighbors and it was the kind of place where if someone had a barbeque, everyone in the neighborhood was invited. I live by myself in a small house. It was kind of like an apartment but with no roommates. I even have my own little garden out back. It is my pride and joy.”
“That sounds amazing. Do you have any significant others?”
“I do. His name is S/o and he’s my world. Before I was kidnapped we didn’t have much time to spend with one another due to our work schedules. But when we were together, my god those were the best times. He made me feel like the most special girl in the universe.”
I smiled upon remembering my dear boyfriend. The memories of us on dates or him telling a stupid joke that I’d laugh way too hard at flooded my head. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and I was quick to wipe them away. I choked back a sob and tried to focus on the stars. I didn’t want to become a crying mess in front of Emily. “Hiya, toots~”
The young angel and I turned to see the First Man standing behind us, his arms crossed in front of him. “It’s getting late, babe. Hows about you and I get to bed, hm?”
I looked at Emily, who gave me a curt nod. “I suppose.”
I walked up to him, only for him to snuggle me up to his side. “Thanks for watching her, Em! Go get yourself an ice cream or some shit.”
Before I could even say goodbye, Adam was dragging me back to my bedroom. He threw open the door and lightly pushed me inside. I stumbled and turned to look at him. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, and I mean anything, give me a holler. I’m right next door. Night, babe!”
He threw up a rock symbol on his right hand before slamming the door shut. What is with angels and slamming doors?
I shook my head and went to the closet. I looked in disgust at the pajama choice: a light pink babydoll nightgown with ruffles around the chest area and hem. I searched to see if there were any other options. Unfortunately, there were none. I headed to the bathroom with my pj’s and locked the door behind me. Stripping down, I slid on the nightdress. Looking in the mirror, I cringed at how short it was. I tried to pull the hem down but it stayed around my upper thigh. Growling in frustration, I unlocked the door and headed to the bed. I flipped back the covers and climbed in. I shifted around a bit to try and get comfortable. Even though the mattress was like a cloud, I preferred my bed back home. There I could have S/o’s arms wrapped around me as we cuddled. My homemade quilt and weighted blanket would keep us warm in the Queen sized bed. I could feel the tears from earlier gather in my eyes and slide down onto the pillowcase. I wrapped my arms around my midsection and curled into a ball. I ended up crying myself to sleep.
Over the next few days I found myself next to Adam’s side nearly all the time. The only time I was separated was when I was in the bathroom or when I was sleeping. Even being in the supposed happiest place for death I found myself very uncomfortable. Adam constantly had his hands on me: playing with the straps of my tops, smacking my butt, massaging my shoulders and hips, and his fingertips “accidentally” scraping my boobs. It didn’t help that Lute would constantly glare at me and her face would be pulled into a snarl. I suppose she thought I was disobeying her order to stay away from her master. 
I thought about my interactions with the two as I pulled back the covers, getting ready to go to bed. A knock on my door made me pause. It was pretty late so I was confused as to who could be there. “Come in.”
The door slowly opened to reveal Adam. I gagged at how strong his cologne was as I could smell it all the way to where I was. “Um, hey Adam. What can I do for you?”
His footsteps sounded heavy on the tiled floor and the door shutting behind him felt like a blade stabbing into my heart. He lifted his hand and my breath caught in my throat when I heard the lock. I backed up but I felt the bed behind my knees. The First Man stopped right in front of me and allowed his lips to quirk into a deep grin. His hands came up and started to slide the nightgown straps down. Disgusted, I slapped his hands away and went to shove him. As my hands pushed on him, he was quick to grab my wrists and hold them to his chest. “You look so hot, babe. I was right to pick out this pj set. You fill it out perfectly.”
“Let go of me!”
I struggled to pull my hands away but his grip didn’t falter. “Adam, let go! Y-you’re scaring me!”
“Just go with the flow, sweetie. Can’t you see this was meant to be?”
He pushed me onto the bed and before I could get up he pounced on top of me. I was about to hit him but he pinned my wrists on either side of my head. He leaned down and began to kiss my neck. His lips were sloppy and he brought his tongue to lick against my vein. “I’m going to make you forget all about that fucking Morningstar. All that you’re going to have on your mind is the original Dickmaster.”
As he brought his lips down to kiss mine, I let out a growl and threw my leg upwards. I heard him let out a cry of pain before he fell onto the floor clutching his privates. “My balls! My fucking balls! God dammit, Y/n!”
With fear guiding me, I stumbled to the door and fumbled with the lock. “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”
My fingers shook as I heard Adam rise, a groan leaving his lips. “I was going to play nice, toots. I really was. But it seems you want to play hard to get!”
I heard the lock click and I quickly threw the door open. I sprinted down the hall as I heard Adam yell after me. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I ran faster than I ever had. My escape was futile though as I slammed into a muscular body. I looked up to see Lute, her mask off to reveal a white bob and yellow eyes. I was frozen as I heard Adam huffing behind us. “Good job catching her, Lute!”
“What would you like me to do with the bitch?”
“Lock her in a cell.”
“Anything else?”
“Hit her or something for kicking my balls. That shit hurt.”
“Of course, sir.”
I cried out as Lute grabbed my hair and pulled me down the hall. I tried to pull her hand off but she just tightened her hold. With the pace we were going, the two of us ended up at a dark wooden door. Lute opened it and walked me to the middle of the dimly lit room. She opened the black metal door to the cell and threw me inside. I groaned as I felt my knee scrape against the cold cobblestone floor. I looked up at the angel who sent daggers into my soul with her gaze. “I told Adam you were trouble, but he insisted we bring you here. And after all the hospitality he showed you…you go back on his trust.”
“By hospitality do you mean perverted-” I growled out.
Lute brought her leg up and kicked my cheek. I landed harshly on my side and spit out some blood that oozed from my teeth. “Don’t speak of him like that.”
“Why? It’s not like he’s a saint!”
She growled and drove her foot into my stomach. I howled as sharp pain blossomed. “He’s better than you could ever be! I mean look at you. While he’s up here in Heaven you’re Down Below sucking Lucifer’s cock.”
Her foot hit my stomach again and I could feel bile rise in my throat. “How does it feel to know you’ll never achieve anything? Your legacy will be known as the Devil’s little whore and that’s all you're good for.”
I gave her a smirk before I coughed. “At least I probably give better head than you.”
Her eyes widened before they returned to slits. With her teeth clenched, she brought her right fist into my mouth. I felt my bottom lip split as some blood came shooting out. “Oh, triggered are we? Is this because you have pent up sexual frustration for your leader? Is that some kind of kink you’re into: master and servant?”
“Shut the hell up!”
Grabbing my hair, she slammed my head into the stone floor with a warrior cry. My vision blurred and the room felt like it was spinning. With her hand still tangled in my locks, Lute brought my head up and down several times to meet the floor. My cheekbone felt like it was on fire and I figured the bone was probably shattered with the force of me hitting the ground. “Think you’re tough shit, huh? I can tell you’re just a scared little girl. You were never meant for Heaven, even if you weren’t branded as Lucifer’s slut.”
I could feel my anger boiling. How dare she call me such vile names. “You think I chose this life? Hell no! I was fine being on Earth with my boyfriend!”
“Yeah right. You probably summoned that dirty retch. Why’d you do it? Did you want fame? Money? The glory of saying you fucked the King of Hell?”
“I didn’t do any of that shit! If I had it my way I would have never helped that stupid snake in my garden! Then maybe I wouldn’t be forced to be a bride against my will! Or better yet, then maybe I wouldn’t have met you or your motherfucking boss!”
She yelled in fury and brought her foot up to meet my chest. I landed on my back and the air left my lungs. I heaved in oxygen as she kept kicking me. I swear I heard ribs cracking under pressure. Lute didn’t stop there. She slammed her gray heeled boot onto my fingers and I couldn’t help but let out a scream. “That’s it! Scream, little girl! Pray that your hellish Daddy comes to save you!”
“S-shut up!”
I felt whiplash as her foot dug into my cheek, blood spilling down my bruised lips. “You know what we consider people like you? Fallen. Maybe I should cut your wings like we do all the others?”
“N-no!”
She roughly turned me over so that my back was facing her. I attempted to stand when I heard the sound of fabric ripping and cool air hitting my back. Lute however stomped me into the ground, her heel digging into my flesh. I heard her sword being unsheathed and saw its angelic light bounce off the cell wall. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything I said! Lute, p-please!”
She let out a cruel laugh and I yelped at her heel digging in further. “You’re pathetic, you know that? If you were half the woman that Adam claimed you to be, you wouldn’t go back on your word. Some advice for you, sweetie. If you say a threat, really mean it.”
I screamed as her sword pierced into the left side of my back. There had to be some kind of special angelic powers attached because this hurt way worse than when I would accidentally slice my finger while cooking. Lute reveled in my cries as she dragged the blade around forming some shape. Tears fell rapidly from my eyes as I slammed my fist down into the cold floor, trying to focus on something other than the pain radiating in my back. I was relieved when I felt the weapon retract, but the relief was short lived. A blood curdling shriek ripped through my throat as the sword entered the right side and began drawing a similar shape to its predecessor. Lute seemed to take her time, enjoying my wails bouncing off the walls. She harshly pulled the sword out and resheathed it. “While I would love to carry on my tradition of licking the blood of my enemies off my blade, I don’t want to taint my Holy body with your sin.”
“W-what did you d-do,” I stuttered under my breath.
I could sense a smirk gracing her features as she rounded in front of me. Reaching under my armpits, she hoisted me up and threw me against the wall. I cried out as the rough stone dug into my newly acquired wounds. “I just cut the wings off the fallen, dare I say, angel. Oh who am I kidding? You’re no angel. You’re not even as worthy as the dirt beneath my feet.”
“F-fuck you.”
I grit my teeth as she harshly gripped my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. “What did I say about empty threats, sweetie? Or do I need to remind you?”
I shook my head as a dangerous smile overtook her face. “No, I think you need the reminder.”
Her hand moved to my throat and she made sure to drag my back up the wall as she let me hang. I weakly kicked my legs as I tried to get her to release me. I could feel my body shutting down as Lute squeezed. I was pretty sure I’d have bruises where her fingers lay. My hands started to slide off of hers as my vision began to get a black haze around the edges. “What is going on here?”
Lute let go of me in her haste and my butt collided hard with the ground. I couldn’t see who had entered as I heaved in deep breaths. “Miss Emily, what are you doing up? It’s late. You should get to bed. Here, let me escort you.”
“What were you doing, Lute?”
“Oh, um, I was taking care of a prisoner.”
I could see a familiar head peek around my attacker’s body, a gasp leaving the young Seraphim’s lips. “Oh my goodness! Y/n!”
Emily rushed past and cradled me in her arms, her hand gently rubbing my bruised cheek. “What have you done?! Y/n didn’t do anything to you!”
“On the contrary Miss Emily, Y/n here has committed a major sin. She rejected the orders of the First Man and I was told to punish her in any way I saw fit.”
“I rejected him because he wanted sex. You left that part out,” I hissed, my throat raw from screaming. 
Lute bit her lip and I could see she was dying to cuss me out. “I could forgive Adam’s behavior up until now, but this, this is unforgivable! I need to talk to Sera about this. Violence isn’t the answer and neither is attacking innocent people!”
I could see a shadow cast over the white haired angel’s face and her hand reached for her sword. “There’s no need to discuss this with Sera.”
My eyes widened as her sword was unsheathed next to her side. Emily must have sensed something was off as well because her arms trembled around me. “Lute, w-what are you doing? Put your sword away n-now!”
“I can’t risk you running and tattling to Sera. Who knows what she’ll do to us. Adam and I belong here in Heaven! We’re doing good in God’s name! We will not be cast Down Below!”
She raised the blade and brought it down quickly towards Emily’s head. She screamed and with a newly found inner strength I forced myself up. I let out a warrior cry as I brought my arm up to protect my face, the sharp weapon making contact with my left shoulder. I heard fabric ripping and a glass shattering shriek from the young Seraphim. Glancing down I saw my arm was missing, it lying discarded on the dungeon floor. I let out a shaky gasp and stumbled into the wall. “Y/N!”
I went to go to Emily’s side but Lute stabbed her sword into my right shoulder, effectively pinning me to the wall. I screeched and realized there was nothing I could do. I helplessly watched as the evil angel went for the younger girl’s throat. However, a punch to her face made her drop Emily. She grunted as her head smacked the wall next to me and her body slid down to the floor. I looked towards our savior and felt the color drain from my face. There stood Lucifer, six red and white wings displayed behind him. His eyes were completely red as tall, curvy, red horns grew from his forehead. A flame hovered between them and the snake that usually rested on his hat was now wrapped around the tip of his horns. From this distance it looked like his sharp teeth had grown longer, his canines more prevalent. Lute grunted as she sat up holding her cheek, golden blood trickling from a cut. “You BASTARD! You can’t hurt an angel on Holy ground!”
“The rules don’t apply to FUCKING SCUM LIKE YOU! How DARE you lay your filthy hands on MY BRIDE!”
He rushed forwards and sent a hard punch to her gut. Lute let out a cry of pain before Lucifer grabbed her by the feathers around her throat. Her muscular legs kicked violently, her white gloved hands digging into black hands. I could hear the crunch of her neck bones breaking, golden blood flying out her mouth onto the Devil’s claws. “I can think of so many ways I can torture you with. What should I start with first, hm? I could pluck those white and black feathers from your wings and have them decorate a cape for my darling; Or I could have my snakes bite you all over your body as you screamed and writhed in agony. Oh yes, their venom would enter your bloodstream and there would be nothing you could do as it slowly overtook you, boiling your insides to ash; Or I could break each bone in your body beginning with your fingers and leaving your neck. After everything was broken and you felt that pain, I could slowly saw off each limb, starting with the tops of your fingers and going down each joint. I think I would like that! And after every vein, tendon, muscle and bone was cut off your body I could give them to Cannibal Town to feed the residents as a treat from their King. Just before you died, I could cut out your tongue, eyes and ears and give them to Alastor. I don’t know what the Radio Demon would do with them, but I know he’d find a way to make them useful. And as you would crash from blood loss, I would place your head on a spike outside my palace. It would be a reminder to not mess with me or my fucking bride! Oh, I’d have fun torturing your soul as surely Heaven wouldn’t want you as my hellish hands corrupted your purity!”
Lute bared her teeth and her legs started to slow down to a small wiggle. I watched on in horror as he threw her at the wall on the opposite side of the room. As he stomped towards her, Emily ran to my side. She took off the shawl around her shoulders and wrapped it around my left shoulder. She pulled it tight to try and staunch the bleeding. I hissed as the pressure sent shooting pain to my remaining nerves. Lucifer’s black tail flicked up and down, acting like a scorpion's. My pupils shrunk as I watched him wrap his fist around one of Lute’s wings. She scratched at him as he tugged, a scream ripping from her throat. “That! Is for even bringing my dear apple up here!”
He gripped her other wing and tugged, more bloodied feathers in his fist. “That! Is for throwing her around!”
He went back and forth ripping more and more feathers from each wing, a pile growing behind Lucifer as he called out something harmful Lute had done to me. “Get off me, you motherfucker!”
The Devil brought up one of his feet, slamming the heel of his black leather boot into her eye socket. I shrieked as he kept at it, more golden blood dripping down as her face was slowly being caved in. I couldn’t watch this any longer.
“LUCIFER, STOP!”
His foot was in midair as it froze. He looked over his shoulder at me. I scrunched my eyebrows together and let pleas slip past my bruised lips and raw throat. 
“PLEASE, STOP! Just stop! You’ve done enough damage!”
He scowled and brought his foot down, turning to face me completely. White irises surfaced on top of his red scaleras, softening as they stared at me. “Y/n, she could have killed you! By God, your arm has been lobbed off! Why do you plead mercy for a disgusting soul like hers? She and Adam should suffer for what they have done to you!”
“It’s not worth it! Killing her won’t rewind time or heal me. Just, just let her be.”
He sighed and looked down at Lute’s crumpled body. I could hear her labored breathing so I knew she was still alive, just in a fatal condition. He walked over and crouched before me. Those white eyes of his were filled with rage and determination, but not directed towards me. He brought his hands up to my cheeks, tenderly rubbing them with his thumbs. “Okay. But I need to remove this weapon from your shoulder. I’m not going to lie, this’ll hurt like hell. Emily, stabilize her.”
“O-of course.”
The young girl moved her hands from my missing arm to underneath my armpits and Lucifer grabbed the hilt of the sword. “I apologize for the pain this’ll bring, my dear. I’ll go as fast as I can without the risk of damaging your nerves.”
I nodded and with that he pulled. I cried out in pure agony. Emily hushed me in an effort to make me feel better but all I could focus on was the pain. When the sword was fully out of my shoulder, Lucifer patted the top of my head and gave it a gentle kiss. He stood and turned back towards Lute, who had pushed herself up so she was in a sitting position. With the sword by his side, my fiance slowly stalked forward until he stopped in front of the fallen angel. I couldn’t see her due to Lucifer’s wings spread out but maybe he had done that on purpose. “You should thank my dear apple. She has shown you mercy in a time when she shouldn’t be so kind. But her kindness is one of the reasons I fell for her.”
I felt a sudden tension in my body. He had agreed to not do anything so why did I feel so uneasy? Suddenly he thrust forward and from the feminine scream that bounced off the walls I could tell he had stabbed her. “But on the other hand, I’m not so merciful. I am the King of Hell after all. What is it that you angels say about me? That I’m a rotten, purely evil, husk of a man who should have choked on his own apple while a snake hung me from a tree in the Garden of Eden? Well let me live up to my title. Let me show you how rotten and purely evil I can be!”
“Lucifer, no,” I cried.
He pulled the sword out of wherever he had stabbed it and lifted it above his head. He brought it down with a yell of fury and I screamed as golden blood sprayed everywhere. I squirmed as some of it had splattered across the room onto Emily and I. It was warm and sticky against my legs and face. I wondered if Lute was even alive after that blow. “You. Sick. Fuck! You’re a monster, you know that?!”
I was shocked to hear the female sidekick, even if her voice was shaky. “I don’t care! I don’t care what others think of me! The only one I need is Y/n! She’s MY darling! MY little apple! MY light! And no one, not even the fucker up here who calls himself Father, CAN TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!”
My eyes widened and I couldn’t tell if it was Emily or I who was trembling the hardest. 
He was crazy.
Absolutely batshit insane.
I finally realized how deep his obsession for me ran. 
He cackled like a lunatic, throwing his head back. His whole body shook with how hard he was laughing. He brought the angelic weapon up again and swung down-
"LUCIFER!”
All of us froze. There in the doorway stood Sera, a multitude of eyes surrounding her gray curls. Her fists were balled at her sides as she walked in. “What is the meaning of this?!”
Lucifer didn’t even look at her, too focused on his prey in front of him. “I’m acting in self defense. Aren’t I, Emily?”
Sera looked at the two of us and Emily squeaked. “Is this true, Emily?”
“I-I-I-”
“Be truthful, my child. I don’t want you scorned for siding with the embodiment of evil.”
“...He saved us, Sera! Lute, she, she, she was going to kill me! If Mister Morningstar hadn’t stepped in both Y/n and I would be dead!”
The High Seraphim was taken aback, her eyes fading from her hair. “What?”
“Hey, what’s with all the commotion? Some people are trying to sleep-”
My gaze saw Adam walk in behind Sera, his mouth allowing a yawn to pass. The pit in my stomach grew as I feared how he would react when he saw the state of his right hand woman. Sure enough his eyes landed on her and his body tensed. “Holy shit…Lute.”
His hands balled up next to his sides and his eyebrows scrunched over the top of the golden eyes on his mask. “You, motherfucker! You, son of a bitch! You could have killed her-”
A screech ripped my throat as Lucifer whipped around and sliced through Adam’s arm. It flopped to the floor and a chorus of fear filled the air. The First Man was quick to grab his open wound, liquid gold coating his fingers. “What the fuck. What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK! YOU CUT OFF MY ARM, YOU ASSHOLE!”
With Lucifer turned I could see the fire burning in his eyes. He was scaring even Sera, her taking a step back. “What is it they say? An eye for an eye? Well in this case it’s an arm for an arm.”
“YOU, DICKBAG! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”
“Why don’t you ask your little whore when she wakes up? I’m sure she’d love to tell you in great detail while she’s in between your thighs sucking you off about what happened.”
Adam growled and released his shoulder, his bloodied hand pointing at Emily and I. His index finger started to glow with a bright white light and I feared he’d shoot me. With the threat in the air, Lucifer brought the tip of the sword to the masked man’s throat. He pushed it in, not enough to draw blood but enough to make the consequence known. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It. You’re lucky that my dearest told me not to kill anybody. Because believe me, my limit has been passed and I’m hanging by a fucking thread.”
Adam gulped and the blade moved with the bob of his adams apple. I could see fear in the egotistical man’s eyes and even his stance had changed to try and protect himself. “Say, how about I cut off the other hand to join its partner on the floor? I could make them into a pair of cup holders for my beloved and I to use as we sip your thick rich blood from bejeweled goblets.”
“W-why would you want to do that? My blood doesn’t even taste that good!”
“Let’s see, I could name a million reasons. But the first one that comes to mind is to punish you for assaulting my fiance! Did you really think I wouldn’t know about you constantly putting your wretched paws all over her?”
“L-look, you stole two of my wives. I was only returning the favor!”
Lucifer grit his teeth and I swear with how hard he pushed them together they would shatter. The glare that he sent towards Adam was lethal as his eyes turned completely red once more. His black knuckles turned white with how hard he gripped the hilt of the sword. “Those two were just to show how superior I am to you. Y/n is different. She is my true love! She’ll remain by my side for the rest of her eternal life and together we will rule Hell as King and Queen! And if you think you can take that away I’ll cause my own extermination! Any and all winners will be subject to my wrath! They will be slaughtered one by one and their souls forced to burn beneath my hooved feet! I’ll torture every last one of them as I send them to each ring of Hell, the Cardinal Sins and Overlords free to do whatever the fuck they want! UNDERSTOOD?!”
The sword was pushed a bit further into Adam’s neck, a light trail of blood sliding down from the small gash. The tension was so thick that the weapon in Lucifer’s hands wouldn’t be able to cut through it. “Y-you got it, man! Just don’t hurt me!”
The Devil chuckled and pulled away. “Oh, Adam. So above it all until your whole existence is threatened. Then you turn into a pussy and cower away.”
Throwing the sword into Lute’s left wing with a huff, he used his now open hands to conjure a red misty portal. When Lucifer turned to face Emily and I his white irises had returned to his red eyes and a soft smile reached his lips. He walked over, his bloodied boots clicking against the cobblestone. Slowly, as if to not scare me further, he crouched in front of us. His arms reached for me and as he got close Emily hugged me tight to her frame. Tears ran down my cheeks and wet their previously dry tracks. I shook my head and curled my legs into my torso, trying to get as far away from my fiance. “Please don’t hurt her, Mister Morningstar!”
His face dropped and he shook his head side to side. “You honestly think that I’d hurt my darling? I’m hurt, Emily.”
He reached for me again and before the young girl could put up a fight, he wrapped his arms around me. Standing up, he hoisted me bridal style and brought our foreheads together. He closed his eyes and nuzzled me close. A purr rumbled in his throat and he opened his eyes. That frightening look of adoration had returned, his pupils almost looking like little hearts. He gave my forehead a kiss and then turned towards the other angels. “Goodbye, cunts. Hopefully we never see you again.”
His presence commanded the room as he walked us towards the portal, the familiar dark red sky of Hell peeking through. “Let’s go home, my dearest Y/n. We deserve some alone time together.”
A sob wracked my body as he flew forward, the portal closing immediately behind us.
~~~~~~~~
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taliaarchive · 2 months ago
Text
Greed on the Grid
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☆ pairing. Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri
☆ word count. 7.4k
☆ warning(s). Emotional intensity| flashbacks| slow-burn angst| luxury fashion and wealth references| love triangle dynamics|  longing and obsession| infidelity| highly sensory text|  emotional whiplash|  references to fame|  media pressure| racing terminology| alcohol mentions| detailed beauty and travel routines|  and dangerously attractive men in race suits|
☆ dedication. This is for the girls who still believe in soulmates- especially the kind found in the blur of a race car, beneath a helmet, or behind a quiet smile in the paddock. Maybe he’s wrapped in adrenaline and fireproof fabric. Maybe he’s Australian. Maybe his name is Oscar Piastri. This one’s for you. May you never stop believing that love- real, fierce, forever love- can find you exactly where you are.
☆ talia notes. Also, yes- look, I may have done extensive research on the bougiest, most luxurious, most outrageously expensive outfits for this story. But honestly, can you blame me? God forbid a girl likes fashion. If you want to see the whole wardrobe, it's all down below. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this story. x
☆ synopsis. "He didn’t see her- but I did. Walked in wearing a dress like forgiveness and eyes like war… and I knew I’d never look away again."
You. Beautiful. Loyal. Unshakeable. To the world, you were just the girl next door- Lando’s oldest friend, the one who stood quietly in the shadows of his spotlight. But behind every podium, every photo, every win... was you. The one who held him together. The one who loved him first. No one knows how hard it was to let him chase his dreams while you buried yours. But you never complained. Never let it show. Not even now, after eight years together, when something feels... off. You crossed oceans for him- crossed the line between friendship and forever. Only to find him kissing someone else beneath the same lights he once said were yours. And in that moment, something inside you shattered- and something stronger woke up. He was supposed to be the finish line. But maybe the race is only just beginning.
Oscar. Silent. Calculated. Watching. He saw you before anyone else ever truly did. Before the lights. Before the chaos. Before the heartbreak. You were never his to lose- but he’s been losing you slowly, secretly, painfully from the moment he realised what you meant to him. Oscar never meant to want what wasn’t his. But every time Lando looked away, he couldn’t stop looking. And when he saw you break that night, walking away without a word, wrapped in the silk and ruin of your love- he knew. He would fight for you. Even if it meant standing on the grid, ready to burn the world down for one more chance.
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Chapter 1: Before the Storm
Song: "greedy" – Tate McRae
"Tonight, he would know you had crossed oceans for him- that when the world roared his name, you were still the girl whispering it first."
2:58 p.m. - London
Your hands trembled as they clutched the navy McLaren hoodie tighter around your body, fingers twisting the fabric in a desperate, unconscious knot against your chest. It wasn’t fear- not really. It was something far worse, far heavier. It was hope. Pure, electric, unbearable hope, fizzing and snapping beneath your skin until it felt like you might tear apart.
The television cast a flickering glow over the living room, painting the space in murky greys and papaya orange. Outside, true London rain tapped restlessly against the windowpanes, a ghostly echo of the scene unfolding thousands of miles away. The broadcast buzzed in front of you, Melbourne’s storm-drenched Albert Park shimmering under the harsh gleam of stadium floodlights. Rain clung to the track like a living thing- a silver sheen glossing every corner, turning braking zones into cruel, unpredictable battlegrounds.
You sat curled on the couch, barefoot, half-wrapped in the sleeves of his hoodie, heart hammering so violently it made your vision blur. The screen flashed- Lap 56/57. One lap left.
One lap standing between Lando and everything he had ever worked for.
He was leading. Still leading.
Somehow- against Max Verstappen’s newer tires, against Red Bull’s relentless machine, against everything stacked against him- he was still in front. Your chest ached so fiercely it felt like your ribs might crack under the pressure of it.
Your Lando.
Not the public figure beamed across television sets. Not the polished interviews or the sponsorship obligations. No- this was the boy from next door. The boy who used to race you with Hot Wheels across the garden hedges until your knees were stained green and your hair tangled from laughing too hard. The boy who had asked you to be his girlfriend at eighteen, stumbling over the words under the fairy lights he had strung up himself in his backyard, hands clammy with nerves even after a full rookie season in Formula 1. The boy you had loved- fiercely, tenderly, without condition-  through every brutal crash, every broken front wing, every podium missed by a fraction of a second.
You knew Albert Park like the back of your hand- not from commentary or track maps, but from living it alongside him. You knew the way Turn 3 tempted desperate divebombs. You knew Turn 6 slicked with rainwater, how cruelly it spat cars out if they clipped the curb wrong. You knew Turn 11 was everything- the crux of the lap- because if you didn’t carry enough speed there, you were dead meat down the back straight.
And he was threading it.
Threading it through the chaos with a precision that made your breath catch.
The race had been carnage. Isack Hadjar’s crash on the formation lap, Jack Doohan’s wreckage only minutes later, Carlos Sainz spinning under the safety car in a moment so surreal you had gasped aloud. The air itself felt heavy, weighted down by the rain and the stakes. And still, there he was. Still leading.
Verstappen’s DRS light blinked furiously behind him- a siren in the mist, a shark circling its prey.
You leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the couch so hard your knuckles turned white. "Defend inside into Turn 3," you whispered, voice shaking, almost praying. "Protect it. Don’t open the door."
You could barely hear the commentary buzzing in your ears anymore, barely notice the excited crescendo of Croft and Brundle. Your world had narrowed to one trembling, electric line- Lando’s papaya McLaren cutting through the mist, defying every odd, every whisper of doubt.
The final sector.
You rose to your feet without realizing it, toes sinking into the thick carpet, the hoodie sliding down one bare shoulder. The blood rushed in your ears, drowning out everything but the rhythmic slam of your own heart against your ribs.
Come on. Come on. Come on.
The camera switched to his on-board feed- the visor cam- and for a second you were right there with him. You could see the tiny corrections in his gloved hands as he feathered the throttle, the calculated lift into Turn 13, the delicate kiss of the apex at Turn 14. You could practically feel the car squirming beneath him, every twitch a symphony of trust between man and machine.
And then- The line.
The flash of the checkered flag slicing through the Melbourne rain.
The screen erupted with color, noise, chaos, but your body stayed frozen- paralysed for one long, suspended second- until the reality crashed over you in a tidal wave:
"Lando Norris wins the 2025 Australian Grand Prix!"
The breath ripped out of your chest. The cushion you had been hugging slipped from your arms and hit the floor with a soft, forgotten thud. You choked on a sob that had been buried so deep inside you, you hadn’t even realized it was there.
On the screen, you watched him cross the finish line, his McLaren slicing through the storm as if he had carved open the sky itself. His helmet glittered under the stadium lights as he punched both fists into the air so hard it looked like he could tear a hole straight into the stars. The McLaren pit wall exploded in orange and blue- engineers screaming, mechanics vaulting over barriers, Zak Brown practically crying into his radio.
You pressed a hand to your chest. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel the raw, blinding joy tearing through you.
And then, through the crackling radio feed, came the sound that shattered you completely: Lando’s voice- rough, broken, triumphant-  filling the living room like a lifeline.
"We fucking did it, boys. Thank you. Thank you!"
Tears blurred your vision until the living room dissolved into a smear of grey and orange and white. You sank to your knees on the carpet, pressing your forehead into the sleeves of his hoodie, clutching at the only thing you could still hold onto.
You had never loved anyone this much. Not even close.
Every second of doubt, every moment you had spent praying he would get his shot- it all exploded inside you in a messy, beautiful flood. You needed to be there. Not tomorrow. Not next week.
Now.
You surged to your feet, still dizzy with the magnitude of it all. Your suitcase lay open by the door, half-packed, waiting, just in case. You moved on instinct, hands trembling, heart pounding, throwing essentials into the RIMOWA Classic Cabin, mind already racing ahead.
You had to go. You had to be there. Because when he looked for someone in the crowd tonight- someone who had believed in him when no one else did- it had to be you.
It had only ever been you.
── .✦
4:05 p.m. - Packing for Melbourne
You chose your clothes with meticulous care- every piece intentional, every detail a whisper of who you were, and who you hoped to be when you saw him again.
For the airport, you wanted something practical but striking, luxury stitched into every seam without appearing forced. You pulled on your Balmain Logo-Detailing Flared Washed Jeans, their fitted waist and dramatic flare sculpting your figure like you had stepped off a runway. The subtle Balmain embroidery at the hip, visible just beneath your top, gave away your secret to those with the eyes to notice. You paired it with an Alaïa Cotton jersey Crop Top in smooth black, sleek and sculpted, with a square neckline and snug fit that hugged your frame like a second skin. Its minimalist cut contrasted effortlessly with the relaxed flare of your jeans, refined yet effortlessly cool.
Over it, you layered something infinitely more personal- his McLaren F1 Team Hoodie from the 2024 season. The grey cotton was worn and softened by time; the papaya orange logo stitched proudly across the chest. It still carried the faded scents of sunscreen, pit lanes, and bittersweet adrenaline, clinging to it like a memory you hadn’t realized you missed until now.
For shoes, you wore the rare and coveted Dior x Air Jordan 1 Retro High OG Sneakers, crafted in soft Dior grey and white calfskin leather, with the iconic swoosh detailed in the Dior Oblique pattern. They weren’t just sneakers; they were a statement, one that grounded your look in effortless cool.
You slipped on Celine Triomphe Oval Sunglasses in sleek black acetate, hiding the glint of nerves behind your lenses, and carried the structured Saint Laurent Manhattan Bag in black box leather, its understated gold hardware gleaming subtly under the terminal lights.
Inside the Saint Laurent bag, you packed the essentials no woman travels without. Nestled inside was a Dior Addict Lip Glow Balm, a Dior Lip Maximizer Plumping Gloss, and a Chanel Rouge Coco Flash Lipstick- the full arsenal for your signature lip combination. A Chanel La Crème Main Hand Cream rested beside a travel-sized Diptyque Eau Rose Eau de Toilette, tucked neatly against a Gucci Beauty Miniature Brush and Mirror Set. You carried a slim Aesop Resurrection Rinse-Free Hand Sanitiser, the earthy scent a comfort mid-flight, and a pack of Tatcha Aburatorigami Japanese Blotting Papers to keep your skin fresh. A mini bottle of Moroccanoil Treatment Light and a Slip Silk Skinny Scrunchie Set in neutral shades completed the carefully curated collection- everything you might need, right at your fingertips.
Trailing behind you, your suitcase rolled smoothly across the polished airport floors- a RIMOWA Classic Cabin Carry-On in gleaming silver aluminium, its surface scuffed in a way that spoke of places travelled and memories collected, but still gleaming like new under the lights.
Inside your suitcase, packed with precision, was the centrepiece of it all: the dress. The Oscar de la Renta Ombré Silk Chiffon Gown was a vision of ethereal beauty- strapless, with a soft sweetheart neckline, melting from luminous ivory at the bodice into a deep, romantic plum at the hem. The fitted bodice sculpted your waist gently, before dissolving into endless floating layers of silk chiffon that caught the light with every movement. It was a dress meant for once-in-a-lifetime moments. If everything went to plan, you would wear it tonight- when you surprised him at the rooftop celebration.
For the gown, you packed the perfect companions. You had chosen Jimmy Choo Minny Metallic Leather Sandals in silver, their barely-there straps shimmering like a second skin. Harry Winston Winston Cluster Diamond Earrings (in  a small size) would catch the rooftop lights like stars caught in your hair. Around your wrist, you would clasp your Cartier Love Bracelet in polished white gold, a whisper of timeless elegance. Resting just above your heart, the Boucheron Serpent Bohème Pendant Necklace in white gold would gleam, subtle and personal.
For the final touch, you packed two evening clutches: The Judith Leiber Couture Slim Slide Mother-of-Pearl Clutch, delicate and shimmering with every movement, and the Jimmy Choo Cloud Crystal-Embellished Metallic Clutch, a dazzling constellation of tiny, hand-placed crystals.
Your wardrobe beyond the gown had been chosen with the same careful thought.
For lazy, sunlit mornings and relaxed brunches, you packed the Zimmermann Illuminate Midi Dress- an ivory, tropical-inspired linen piece that drapes effortlessly around the body, capturing the softness of a summer breeze. To complete the look, you considered two elegant shoe options. The CHANEL Calfskin Pearls Sling-back Sandals in Cream, with their delicate pearl accents and vintage-inspired design, offered a graceful, feminine touch that blended seamlessly with the dress’s romantic silhouette. Alternatively, the Manolo Blahnik Shbealo 70MM Buckle-Detailed Leather Sandals, crafted in smooth ivory leather with a signature buckle detail, brought a refined modernity to the ensemble, perfect for elevating a casual morning into something quietly luxurious.
You paired the look with the Loewe Small Basket Bag, woven from straw and finished with tan calfskin leather straps- an artisanal piece that echoed the natural, effortless charm of the outfit. For a slightly more structured alternative, the Celine Ava Bag in natural textile and tan leather offered a softly sculpted silhouette with timeless appeal. Your accessories remained intentionally delicate: the Van Cleef & Arpels Sweet Alhambra Bracelet in mother-of-pearl added a subtle shimmer with each movement, while Missoma Mini Hoop Earrings in gold provided a gentle glint near your cheeks.
To protect your face from the sun while maintaining polished elegance, you opted for the Eugenia Kim Mirabel Wide-Brim Straw Hat in natural and ivory- its oversized silhouette and silk ribbon band creating a dreamy, garden-party finish. For sunglasses, you chose the Celine Triomphe Oval Sunglasses in Nude Acetate, their soft frame blending seamlessly with the palette of creams, ivories, and warm neutrals, offering just the right touch of understated luxury.
As a backup for spontaneous city strolls, you folded the Zimmermann Halliday Scalloped Floral Linen Midi Dress into your suitcase. With its delicate embroidery and scalloped edges, this dress evokes a romantic, countryside charm. To match its softness, you selected the Manebi Yucatan Raffia Platform Sandals- light, comfortable, and just elevated enough for a gentle lift. For a more playful alternative, the Aquazzura Aloha Flat Sandals in soft blush leather with subtle floral embellishments perfectly echo the dress’s mood. For accessories, you opted for the Chanel Deauville Small Canvas Tote in light pink- a feminine carryall that balances practicality and beauty.
Alternatively, the Valentino Garavani Rockstud Straw Shoulder Bag adds a touch of edginess to the otherwise sweet ensemble. Delicate jewelry was essential. You wore the Tiffany & Co. T Wire Bracelet in rose gold for a clean, refined wrist accent, and adorned your ears with Sophie Bille Brahe Petite Perle Splash Earrings, their soft pearls curving elegantly along the lobe. Finishing the look, you packed your Linda Farrow square-frame sunglasses, lending a subtle vintage appeal. A Zimmermann Straw Sun Hat with a floral silk scarf tied around the crown completed the outfit, perfect for meandering through city streets or browsing weekend markets.
For evenings under starlight, you packed the Zimmermann Tama Lace-Up Corset Top paired with the Tama Wrap Midi Skirt- a flirtatious yet refined ensemble that flowed with romantic ease. You completed the look with the Gianvito Rossi Flavia mirrored leather sandals, their delicate gold straps winding elegantly up your ankles like liquid light, perfect for a slow evening stroll or an intimate rooftop moment. Around your neck, you wore the Boucheron Serpent Bohème Pendant Necklace in yellow gold, its single diamond catching the light like a secret, while your ears sparkled with Van Cleef & Arpels Sweet Alhambra Earrings in mother-of-pearl. On your wrist, a single Cartier Juste un Clou Bracelet in yellow gold added a sleek, quietly rebellious edge. You carried the Bottega Veneta Mini Jodie in ivory Intrecciato leather, its sculptural shape and soft tone bringing the entire look together with a whisper of understated luxury.
Inside your Louis Vuitton Nice BB Vanity Case, you had packed your entire beauty routine: Armani Luminous Silk Foundation, NARS Radiant Creamy Concealer, Charlotte Tilbury Airbrush Flawless Finish Powder, Dior Rosy Glow Blush, Rare Beauty Soft Pinch Liquid Blush, a Tom Ford Eye Color Quad in Honeymoon, Lancôme Monsieur Big Mascara, and your faithful Anastasia Beverly Hills Brow Wiz. Your favourite Pat McGrath Labs Lip Balm, an extra YSL Rouge Volupté Shine Lipstick, and an Hourglass Veil Setting Spray completed the essentials.
Your haircare wasn’t forgotten either. You tucked in a Mason Pearson Pocket Bristle Brush, a Tangle Teezer Compact Styler, mini bottles of Oribe Gold Lust Dry Shampoo, and Gisou Honey Infused Hair Oil. Your Dyson Supersonic Travel Dryer, with its compact diffuser, lay carefully cushioned inside a protective case. For tech, you packed your Apple AirPods Max in silver, your iPhone charger, your MacBook, the charger for your MacBook, and a slim Mophie PowerStation for emergencies.
Tucked within a special pouch was your perfume collection: Your signature Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540 Eau de Parfum, and a travel-sized vial of Byredo Gypsy Water, in case you needed something lighter to suit the mood.
At the very heart of your suitcase, nestled between folds of soft silk, lay the most precious item of all. You reached for it with careful fingers, cradling it in your palm like it might dissolve if you held it too tightly- a custom Cartier bracelet, designed especially for you by Lando for your twenty-first birthday.
It was a reimagining of the classic Cartier Love Bracelet- slimmed down, sleeker, forged in brushed 18k white gold, with a single, hidden pavé diamond set discreetly along the inner band. Inside, pressed against the metal so intimately that only you could ever see it, was the engraving in his unmistakable handwriting:
Always, L.
He had chosen white gold intentionally, once smiling across a candlelit dinner and murmuring in a voice low and certain, "You’re more moonlight than sunshine."
You turned the bracelet over in your hands, thumb brushing over the groove of the engraving, feeling the small ridge where his words had been etched into permanence. You had meant to pack it. You had meant to tuck it away, safe and hidden, waiting for the right moment to wear it.
But now, standing there with the city still sleeping outside the window and your heart racing faster than you could breathe, the thought of locking it away felt unbearable. Wrong.
You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist instead, the clasp clicking shut with a soft, certain sound that echoed louder than it should have in the quiet room. It wasn’t just jewellery. It was a tether. A memory. A piece of his soul wrapped around your wrist- a silent vow you carried with you across oceans, across time, across every impossible mile you had crossed just to find your way back to him.
You pressed your fingers lightly over the cool metal, whispering a promise that only the dark could hear.
Soon.
And with that, you zipped the suitcase closed, your pulse steadying just a little beneath the weight of him, of it, of everything still waiting ahead.
── .✦
8:38 p.m. - Heathrow Airport
The terminal glowed under the soft burnish of late afternoon light, each golden ray filtering through the enormous glass walls like the last breath of a dying day. Heathrow’s First-Class check-in wing gleamed beneath it- polished marble floors that mirrored the haze of travellers drifting by the low murmur of hushed voices blending with the occasional crisp rustle of designer coats and the smooth glide of luxury luggage wheels across the floor.
Everything around you felt suspended, weightless- a muted world cocooned by sterile luxury and quiet urgency. You barely heard any of it. Your breath came shallowly, caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat, as you stepped up to the counter. The staff worked quickly, practiced smiles and efficiency wrapping around you like an invisible force field. You didn’t even remember offering your passport; it was muscle memory at this point.
A few taps, a few clicks- and then it was there. British Airways Flight 009 to Melbourne. Seat 2A. First Class.
The boarding pass was warm against your palms, almost fragile, as if it could vanish if you blinked too hard. You stared down at the print, tracing the letters with your fingertips, grounding yourself in the reality of it. You were going. You were really doing this.
The walk to the lounge felt dreamlike- a slow drift through glass tunnels and soft-lit hallways, past walls of curated perfumes and champagne bottles, past sharply dressed executives tapping rapidly at their phones. You didn’t belong to their world right now. You weren’t thinking about meetings or miles or private lounges. You were thinking about him.
In the First-Class lounge, you found an armchair tucked against the floor-to-ceiling windows, a quiet corner where you could disappear. You sank into the deep leather, the rich scent of polished hide and fresh coffee wrapping around you. The McLaren hoodie you wore- his hoodie- felt like armour, soft and worn, familiar against the antiseptic coldness of the airport.
A staff member offered you a glass of champagne; you took it automatically, the stem thin and cool against your fingers. You sipped once. Mechanically. Barely tasting the expensive bubbles. Your foot bounced restlessly against the floor, tapping out the frantic rhythm of your heart.
You pulled out your phone, the screen lighting up your face in the gathering dusk.
No text from Lando.
You let out a slow, shaking breath. Strange. But it was fine. You wanted the surprise to be clean- raw- the moment unspoiled by warnings or hints.
Opening Instagram felt dangerous, but you couldn’t help yourself. You found his tag page immediately- it was flooded. Blurred, shaky photos from the grandstands, official team shots of McLaren’s pit wall exploding in a riot of color and cheers, close-ups of Lando soaked in podium champagne, laughing, overwhelmed, alive. You zoomed in on one. His helmet was off, hair damp and curling slightly, eyes alight in a way you hadn’t seen in so long- pure, unfiltered joy.
A tremble passed through you.
Tonight, he would see you. Tonight, he would know you had crossed oceans for him- that when the world roared his name, you were still the girl whispering it first.
You tucked your phone away carefully, cradling it in your hands like it was something precious. Outside the windows, planes taxied in slow, lumbering lines across the runways, bathed in the orange aftermath of sunset. You pressed your forehead lightly against the glass, watching one jet’s engines kick up spirals of mist, the sheer force of it rumbling through the ground into your bones.
It felt like your whole life had been distilled into this single, breathless wait.
── .✦
9:10 p.m. - Boarding the Flight
The boarding call was a low murmur over the speakers, almost lost beneath the steady hum of travellers and the clink of glassware. You rose without thinking, moving on autopilot, guided by something older and deeper than logic.
The private jet bridge unfurled in front of you- carpeted, silent, intimate- a hallway of muted golds and off-whites, far from the chaos of the main gates. Your sneakers, worn and beloved, barely whispered against the floors as you walked.
The first-class cabin of the 777 wrapped around you like a cocoon. It smelled faintly of fresh linen, wood polish, and something sharper underneath- jet fuel, ambition, the pulse of far-off places. The soft lighting above cast everything in a warm, golden glow, blurring the harsh edges of reality.
You found your seat- 2A- and slid into it slowly, as if afraid you might somehow wake from all of this if you moved too fast. The seat- wide enough to swallow you whole- was lined with pale cashmere blankets and an oversized pillow embroidered with the airline’s crest. You tucked yourself into the corner, knees folding up against your chest, cocooned in Lando’s hoodie and the thick blanket, seeking comfort in the small pocket of space you had carved for yourself.
A flight attendant approached, offering another glass of champagne or a pressed juice, her smile serene. You shook your head politely, barely managing to find your voice.
You didn’t want anything. You didn’t need anything.
You pulled the hood up over your hair, shutting out the world, curling deeper into the seat until the low thrum of the engines became the only sound you could focus on.
As the plane taxied slowly down the runway, your fingers found the edge of your boarding pass, still tucked into the pocket of your hoodie. You rubbed the corner absently, grounding yourself.
You closed your eyes.
You pictured him.
You imagined the exact moment he would see you- imagined the disbelief flashing across his face, the way his mouth would part slightly, eyes wide with shock before breaking into that smile that still, after all these years, undid you completely.
You pictured the way his arms would wrap around you- tight, desperate, like he couldn’t believe you were real- the way he would press his forehead to yours, maybe even laugh out loud, breathless with it.
You clung to that image like a lifeline, holding it fiercely against your heart as the plane’s engines roared into life, the force of take-off pushing you back into your seat.
Outside the window, London disappeared into a dark, starless sky.
You didn’t look back.
You were going forward. Toward him. Toward home.
I’m coming, Lando. I’m coming home.
── .✦
3:10 a.m. - Melbourne Airport
The landing gear struck the wet tarmac with a muted thud, jolting you awake in your seat. For a moment you weren’t sure where you were- the cabin lights had dimmed into a soft, dusky blue, casting long shadows over the first-class cabin, and for a few precious seconds, you floated somewhere between dream and reality.
Then you remembered: Melbourne. You had crossed the world for him.
The plane taxied slowly, its tires sending up thin sprays of mist from the slick runway. Outside the small oval window, the city slumbered under a heavy black sky, scattered with the distant flicker of runway lights and the faint neon buzz of terminals still alive at this impossible hour. There were no crowds waiting at the gates. No frantic rush of travellers. Just the slow, lonely shuffle of the few who had dared to fly this far, this late.
You sat back, clutching the edge of Lando’s McLaren hoodie closer around your body, the sleeves swallowing your hands, the scent of worn cotton and faint detergent wrapping around you like armour. The world outside was dark and wet and unfamiliar, but inside the cocoon of his hoodie, he still felt close- as if you could reach back across oceans and find him again.
── .✦
3:42 a.m. - Immigration and Baggage Claim
The terminal was near-empty, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above your head as you moved through the deserted corridors. The echo of your sneakers tapping against the polished floors was the only real sound, aside from the distant whir of baggage carousels starting up.
At immigration, there was no line. No waiting. The officer barely glanced at you before stamping your passport, his expression blank, almost mechanical in his exhaustion.
You clutched your passport and boarding pass tightly in your hand as you made your way to baggage claim. The RIMOWA carousel had already started its slow, rhythmic churn, the few suitcases tumbling onto the belt under the harsh white lights. You spotted yours almost instantly- the familiar silver glint catching your eye like a beacon. You hauled it down with trembling fingers, the adrenaline of the landing still fizzing in your veins.
The air inside the terminal smelled of rain and concrete and something faintly metallic- like all the stories of arrivals and departures lingering in the walls, long after the people had gone.
You adjusted your grip on the handle, your movements automatic but shaky. The hotel was waiting. And somewhere beyond the shrouded skyline, so was he.
── .✦
4:05 a.m. - Arrivals Hall
The automatic doors sighed open, spilling you into the cold, wet embrace of the Melbourne morning.
Rain misted down steadily from the black sky, catching the halo of the terminal’s floodlights and turning the air silver. The parking bays stretched out in orderly rows, mostly empty at this hour except for a handful of waiting chauffeurs and blinking cab lights.
A black Mercedes-Maybach idled at the curb- understated but unmistakably luxurious, its sleek chassis beaded with rainwater, its tinted windows glowing faintly from the interior lights. The driver stepped forward, wordless, taking your suitcase with practiced efficiency. You murmured a soft thank you, your voice hoarse from hours of disuse, and slid into the backseat.
The leather was cool and soft against your palms. The door closed with a whisper, sealing you into silence.
── .✦
4:09 a.m. -  Driving into Melbourne
The car glided away from the curb, tires slicing through thin puddles on the asphalt. Outside, the world blurred- wet roads reflecting the broken lines of streetlights, vacant sidewalks glistening under the rain.
The city was sleeping. Shadows loomed large against the abandoned shopfronts and shuttered cafés. Stoplights blinked lazily through the mist, throwing splashes of red and green across the empty intersections. It was a different Melbourne than the one most people knew- stripped of its bustle, its noise- left raw and soft and waiting.
Inside the car, you sat folded into yourself, forehead pressed lightly to the window. The cold seeped into your skin, but you barely felt it.
Your fingers found the bracelet on your wrist without thinking- the slim, custom Cartier band Lando had given you, the hidden engraving pressed close to your pulse. Always, L.
You turned it slowly against your skin, grounding yourself. You weren’t dreaming. You were here. You were closer than you had been in what felt like forever.
The rain picked up, drumming a soft, steady rhythm against the roof of the car.
You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing it all in. The clean, rain-drenched scent of the city. The ache of exhaustion curling in your bones. The way your heart leapt higher with every passing street, every flicker of neon dragging you closer to him.
4:28 a.m. - Hotel Arrival
The Maybach pulled up to the hotel’s private entrance- a hidden driveway lit by discreet wall sconces, the pavement slick and shining in the rain. The building towered above you- sleek glass and stone wrapped in soft golden lights- a quiet fortress against the sleeping city.
The concierge opened the door before you even reached it, ushering you inside with a soft nod, respectful of the late hour. The lobby was dim, lit only by pools of warm light spilling from under marble pillars. Fresh-cut orchids perfumed the air- crisp, sweet, and a little dizzying after the cold outside.
You barely heard the check-in process. You simply nodded, signed where they pointed, accepted the card key with numb fingers.
Room 1703.
Your suitcase bumped softly behind you as you crossed the marble floor toward the elevators.
The silence inside the elevator was absolute- a velvet hush broken only by the soft mechanical hum of the ascent. You watched your reflection in the polished steel walls- wide eyes, tangled hair, the hoodie drowning your frame, making you look smaller, younger, infinitely more breakable.
You tightened your grip on the suitcase handle until your knuckles whitened.
You could do this. You had come all this way. You could wait just a little longer.
── .✦
4:41 a.m. - Inside the Hotel Room
The suite exhaled around you when you stepped inside, its air thick with stillness and something unspoken- something trembling just beneath the quiet. You let the door click shut behind you, setting the RIMOWA suitcase down by the wall with a dull thud that seemed too loud in the sleeping city.
For a moment, you simply stood there, the weight of the day- the weight of all the days that had led you here- pressing down until your shoulders sagged under it. The air smelled faintly of rain and new carpet and a hint of something floral- orchids maybe, tucked into some hidden corner you couldn't see.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Melbourne stretched endlessly, blurred and silvered by mist and the steady pulse of city lights. It didn’t feel like a city at all; it felt like a dream suspended just beyond the glass, waiting.
You crossed the room slowly, your body heavy with the ache of travel, the emotional whiplash of hope and fear and longing. The McLaren hoodie slid from your shoulders almost reverently, as if it, too, understood that its job was done- at least for now. You draped it over the velvet armchair carefully, smoothing out the sleeves. A promise laid down like a marker in the night.
Peeling off your sneakers and socks felt like shedding the final layers of the journey you had fought through to get here. You padded barefoot across the thick carpet, the fibres soft and springy under your toes, the kind of luxury you had once imagined sharing with him during late-night hotel stays after long races. The memories twisted sharp and sweet in your chest.
At the window, you pressed your forehead to the cool glass, your breath misting it into a ghostly circle.
The city below looked endless. And somewhere in that sea of light and darkness, he was laughing, living, shining in the way you always knew he could.
You closed your eyes and whispered it- a prayer, a vow, a simple, sacred truth: "I'm here, Lando."
You turned away, the cold of the window still biting your skin, and crawled onto the bed without even peeling back the covers. The weight of the hotel duvet swallowed you whole, cocooning you, making you feel both protected and heartbreakingly small.
Sleep pulled at you hard, but excitement fought it- a tremulous, burning thing that kept your hands clenched in the fabric of the blanket, your heart hammering in your chest.
Somewhere in the folds of consciousness, you remembered the alarm you had set- the one you had double-checked three times before collapsing into bed. The thought comforted you in a strange way, like he had somehow helped guide you here across all the miles.
You pressed your face deeper into the pillow.
In a few short hours, you would stand before him again. And for the first time in too long, you would be exactly where you belonged.
Home.
── .✦
4:45 p.m. - Waking Up
The alarm cut through the silence with a sharp, vibrating buzz, dragging you up from the bottom of sleep. You surfaced slowly, your body stiff and sluggish, but your mind was already leaping ahead- the tidal wave of nerves and hope crashing back into you all at once.
You sat up groggily, rubbing your hands over your face, the bracelet cool and solid against your wrist- the same way it had been when you first fastened it on back in London.
The room was bathed in golden dusk now, the city outside beginning to pulse alive as lights flickered on in office buildings and cars began to thread through the wet streets below.
You rose from the bed carefully, every movement deliberate, almost ceremonial. Today mattered. Every second of it.
You moved toward the bathroom, feeling the thick carpet drag against your toes, grounding you in the here and now.
── .✦
5:01 p.m. - The Shower
The bathroom lights buzzed faintly as you flicked them on. The marble gleamed under the soft lighting, pristine, untouched, like a sanctuary you were about to step into.
You turned the shower on full blast, waiting until the bathroom filled with steam, clouding the mirror, blurring the edges of reality into something softer, something kinder.
The water was almost scalding when you stepped beneath it- just the way you liked it- the heat burning the remnants of exhaustion from your skin.
You stood there for a moment, letting it pound against your back, against your face, against the trembling place where hope lived just under your ribcage.
You reached for your Oribe Gold Lust Repair & Restore Shampoo, the scent of bergamot and jasmine immediately filling the air, reminding you faintly of the nights you used to steal his shirts just to smell him longer. You lathered it into your scalp, massaging in slow, thorough circles, feeling the weight of the journey wash away with every pass of your fingers.
You rinsed and followed with Oribe Gold Lust Conditioner, combing it gently through the ends, smoothing the frayed pieces of yourself back into something whole.
Next, you reached for Nécessaire The Body Wash in Sandalwood, pouring it into your hands and working it into a thick lather across your skin. The scent- rich, woodsy, grounding- wrapped around you, pulling you into your body, reminding you that you were real, that tonight was real.
When it came time to shave, you slowed down even further- spreading the Flamingo Foaming Shave Gel in soft, luxurious layers across your legs, your arms, every inch of you that the silk gown would touch. The razor slid smoothly, leaving your skin pristine, impossibly soft.
You even shaved your underarms, the backs of your knees, your toes- every tiny detail- the way you always did when it mattered most. You remembered racing mornings, getting ready to watch him, shaving carefully so you could wear shorts, feeling that same wild, giddy hope fluttering under your skin.
You rinsed off one final time, letting the water run down your body like a blessing.
When you finally stepped out onto the marble floor, the air outside the shower was freezing against your overheated skin, goosebumps blooming instantly. You wrapped yourself in a thick towel, hugging it around your chest, standing in the lingering steam.
── .✦
5:33 p.m. - Haircare
You towel-dried your hair gently, careful not to rough it up, before smoothing a few pumps of Gisou Honey Infused Hair Oil through the strands- the sweet, summery scent curling around your wrists.
You misted Oribe Royal Blowout Spray next, lifting sections of hair and smoothing it through. You wanted your hair soft, luminous, undone but perfect- like the kind of beauty that didn’t need to try too hard.
You blow-dried it slowly, using your Dyson Supersonic with the smoothing nozzle, letting the strands fall into place like silk ribbons across your shoulders.
When you were finished, you ran your fingers through the waves- soft, loose, romantic- letting it tumble naturally around your collarbones, the way it used to when he first started staring at you a little too long when you laughed.
── .✦
6:03 p.m. - Skincare Ritual
You padded barefoot back to the vanity, towel wrapped loosely around you, your reflection fogged slightly in the mirror from the lingering heat.
You picked up the small jar of La Mer The Cleansing Gel, smoothing it over your skin in delicate circles, washing away the last remnants of flight fatigue and city grime. The familiar scent- soft, clean, oceanic- wrapped around you, and for a moment, it felt like London again. The nights you'd spend meticulously preparing for his races, lining up tiny bottles on a hotel vanity just like this one, stealing moments to yourself before the world demanded everything from you both.
You patted your skin dry with a plush towel and reached next for the Augustinus Bader the Essence, pressing it into your cheeks, your forehead, your chin- feeling your skin drink it in like parched earth finding rain.
Then came La Mer the Concentrate, warmed between your fingers, smoothed along the lines of your face. It left your skin plump, luminous, alive- as if lighting it from within.
Finally, you sealed everything in with a thick layer of La Mer Crème de la Mer, pressing it into your skin slowly, methodically, the way someone might smooth the petals of a precious flower.
You took your time. You let the ritual soothe the tremble in your hands. You let it remind you that you were real-  that tonight was real.
── .✦
6:32 p.m. - Choosing the Lingerie
You crossed to your suitcase and unzipped the second compartment carefully- the one you had packed with trembling hands back in London.
Your fingers brushed over delicate fabric- the La Perla white lace set you had chosen specifically for tonight.
You lifted it from the folds of tissue paper like it might disintegrate if you weren’t gentle- soft white lace, nearly translucent, stitched into the lightest whisper of a bra and a matching set of barely-there panties.
You held it against your skin for a moment, feeling the lace catch lightly on your fingertips.
Wearing white tonight- not black, not red- had been a choice. A statement. A promise. You weren't here to seduce him.
You were here to come home to him.
You slipped into the lingerie slowly, savouring the feeling of the delicate fabric against your freshly shaven skin, the cool lace moulding to your body like a second, secret layer of confidence.
You caught your reflection briefly in the mirror and smiled- soft, shy, a little sad. He had once called you his angel in a hotel room just like this one- half-laughing, half-awed, his hands clumsy with wonder. You wondered if he would think of that time tonight, maybe even say those same words to you again.
You hoped he would.
── .✦
6:50 p.m. - Dressing
You turned to the bed where the dress waited, draped carefully across the covers like something sacred.
The Oscar de la Renta Ombré Silk Chiffon Gown looked even more ethereal in the dying light- the gradient from ivory to plum so soft it seemed painted by hand, the silk rippling as if breathing on its own.
Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted it.
You stepped into the gown slowly, pulling it up over your hips, letting the bodice Mold to your curves with the ease of something inevitable.
The silk slid over your skin like a sigh, the fitted sweetheart neckline framing your collarbones, the delicate cinch of the waist pulling you into shape without suffocating.
The skirt floated around your ankles, weightless, moving with every shift of your body like mist.
You stood still for a moment, just feeling it- the weight, the movement, the dream of it- and for a split second, you felt like you were suspended between two worlds: the girl who had left London with nothing but hope, and the woman who was about to change everything.
You slipped into the Jimmy Choo Minny Metallic Leather Sandals, the silver straps gleaming subtly against your ankles.
Then the accessories- The Harry Winston Cluster Diamond Earrings, each stone catching the light and throwing it back in tiny, perfect flares. The Boucheron Serpent Bohème Pendant Necklace, the diamond resting lightly against the soft hollow of your throat.
The Cartier Love Bracelet still circled your wrist- silent, steady, his promise hidden against your pulse.
You caught your reflection in the mirror and froze.
You looked... unearthly.
Soft and strong at once. Romantic and real. The kind of beauty that didn't shout, but simply stood there, unshakable, undeniable.
You swallowed hard against the sudden lump rising in your throat.
Tonight, he would see you.
And he would remember exactly what it meant to have ever let you go.
── .✦
7:15 p.m. - Makeup
You sat at the vanity again, the mirror catching the fading light as you began your makeup with careful, reverent hands.
You buffed Armani Luminous Silk Foundation in sheer layers, letting the natural glow of your skin shine through. You dotted NARS Radiant Creamy Concealer only where you needed it- under your eyes, around your nose- blending it until it disappeared completely.
You swept a soft veil of Charlotte Tilbury Airbrush Flawless Finish Powder over your T-zone, leaving the rest of your skin dewy and luminous.
For blush, you chose Dior Rosy Glow, brushing it high across your cheekbones- a soft bloom of color, as if you had just come in from laughing too hard in the cold.
Your eyes stayed understated- a gentle wash of champagne shimmer from your Tom Ford Eye Quad, deepened with the faintest trace of warm brown in the crease, just enough to make your eyes look larger, more awake.
You curled your lashes and coated them with a single, defining sweep of Lancôme Monsieur Big Mascara- letting your lashes fan out like wings.
Your brows were brushed up softly with Anastasia Beverly Hills Brow Gel, left natural and untouched, because you wanted every part of you to feel real.
And your lips- You layered Dior Addict Lip Glow, then a kiss of Dior Lip Maximizer Gloss. Your mouth looked soft, flushed, kissable- like a secret waiting to be told.
── .✦
7:55 p.m. - Perfume
You uncapped the slim travel bottle of Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540, holding it between your fingers like a final piece of armour.
You misted it behind your knees, at your wrists, at the base of your throat, at the small of your back. Not too much- just enough that when he pulled you into his arms, he'd breathe it in and know, instantly, that it was you.
You closed your eyes and let the scent settle into your skin, the silk of your gown, the hollow of your collarbones.
You were ready.
No- You were more than ready.
You were inevitable.
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giddiebeingdork · 7 months ago
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You know, after rereading the manga again, I realize that even if Anya doesn't know what Damian felt towards her, she might be able to feel how intense his feelings are.
Here's the thing, due to her telepathic power, Anya is not only able to see how extreme someone's thoughts are, but she's also can feel how strong their emotions about it. Sometimes it affects her personally because of how strong those feelings are.
(Spoilers for the manga obv in case you haven't read it yet)
One example, is when she first met Yuri and read his thoughts.
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Yuri's obsession with Yor managed to make her feel some kind of heartburn 「胸焼け」 (or in Anya's case 「むねやけ」) because of how intense Yuri's feelings about Yor.
Another example when she first met Fiona/Nightfall.
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When I read the manga, I honestly don't find that her (Fiona/Nightfall) thoughts affecting Anya directly, but she still knows how intense about it, to the point where she even compared them to Becky's thoughts when she first meeting Loid.
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My last example is when she first read Melinda's mind after the bus hijacking.
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She even thinks that her thoughts about Damian is the same as Yuri's thoughts about Yor, where she refers to him as "uncle" here.
So let's recap some of the damianya moments again, shall we?
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The fact it happens thrice in one chapter lol, and Damian denying any kinds of feelings towards her didn't help the situation either 😭
Then in chapter 88 when she read his mind
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And then in chapter 95-96
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Some things to note here, is that everytime Anya's felt about how intense Damian's thoughts and feelings about her, she use the words 「さむけ」 which means "chill" or some sort of "shiver" (anyone who can speaks or fluent about the Japanese language, feel free to correct me!), the word can also be use to describe it metaphorically, like when you feel uneasy or scared. If it's not the 「さむけ」 word, the manga sound effect wrote it as ぞわぞわ, which could be means "shiver" or "shudder"
Personally I think it's funny how Anya making a move on the friendship scheme with Damian and then back down the second she saw his mind about her 😂
Well that's just for my thoughts, let me know what you think!
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Chapter 10: How Did It End Up Like This?
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter ten of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Word Count: 6K
Warnings: References to sex, Kind of depressing, Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, this one is really sad y'all, like REALLY sad, I'm serious this one is really sad.
Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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1980
“Ben, stop.” You shout.
“Move damn it!” Ben’s eyes blaze a dark green sending a tremor down your spine, but you don’t budge.
“No.”
“Get the fuck out of my way.” He snarls louder.
You stand defiantly in front of him, where he towers over you, eyes narrowed, and shoulders tensed. His broad shoulders block the fluorescent lights that hang overhead and illuminate the gym, dramatizing his imposing figure.
“I’m not going to. So you’re either going to have to move me yourself or you can go cool off.” Your retort your voice icy.
The heat from Ben’s anger vibrated through the air between you, but you weren’t going to move. Not when he was being ridiculous.
Noir was angry, angry that Ben took a movie role that he wanted. In hindsight you also thought it was ridiculous that Ben needed to star in all the movies. He was already America’s First Superhero and the Golden Boy and America’s Sweetheart, but it wasn't enough for him for some reason. You often thought his obsession with fame had something to do with his dad. Ben had a lot of problems when it came to his father, all of which made Ben compensate other ways, such as, feeling the need to be in charge, feeling the need to be loved and accepted by others he didn’t know, being unable to express his emotions, and the current problem which was feeling the need to claim the dominant role as most popular superhero.
Aka when he turned into Captain Toxic Masculinity.
Honestly, you were exhausted. All of this was exhausting. Ben was exhausting.  As someone who’d loved him this long you couldn’t help but see the shift from the boy you used to know into something unrecognizable. Occasionally you could see Ben, the old Ben, your Ben, who laughed with you, but those moments were few and certainly didn’t happen in public.
You shoulders tense with the force of your own anger and frustration, standing tall between Ben and Noir who lays on the ground behind you. Noir hadn't made an effort to get up, still stunned from the blows he took from Ben. The first few punches you hadn’t stopped, but it was when Ben felt the need to continue despite Noir’s pleas to stop that you had to step in.
You didn’t know where that came from, Ben’s need to beat people who were conceding. When he was younger you'd seen Ben get in a fight before, but those few times he hadn't continued to beat the other person when they gave up. The smell of whiskey and reefer floats off his clothes and you wonder how much he’s had to drink. Ben had two moods when he was drunk angry or clingy, and right now the anger was winning. You could hear the mad pump of his blood through his body and you wonder what else he might have taken today.
Because whiskey and reefer isn't enough? If he wasn't so damn indestructible he'd probably be dead from overdose.
Ben’s lip is curled back in a sneer, eyes flashing from where Noir lays on the ground then back to you. You know that he's ten seconds away from ripping Noir in half, and that's why you don't move. Noir didn't deserve that.
The way Ben's eyes burn through the space between you is hauntingly familiar as the memory of the night you hid Ben from his father settled over your mind. You fight the shudder at the comparison.
Ben wasn’t anything like his father. The thought is immediate, but then the memory of the past forty years begins to settle over your mind. Or maybe he was.
“Fucking pussy. Having a woman stand up for you.” Ben snaps at Noir.
Ben leans around you to spit at him, then raises his gaze back to you one more time before he stomps off, slamming the door of the gym so hard that it breaks the glass.
You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Everyone on Payback was watching you like you were crazy and you partly were. Getting in between Ben and someone else was beyond stupid. It wasn’t the first time, but you knew that you were the only person that could do it. If Countess or Gunpowder had stepped in Ben would not have relented. It had to be you. It always had to be you.
And you hated the weight of that burden on your shoulders.
You turn towards Noir, holding out a hand to help him up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He sighs taking it . “You didn’t have to do that.”
“He’s just being… well. Him.” You mutter.
You hated that this was the new harsh reality, the new Ben that was born when he took the serum and became America’s First Superhero.
“It was incredibly stupid.” Countess sniffs from where she stands with the TNT Twins. Gunpowder is leaning back against the outer ring with Mindstorm who stares unblinkingly at you.
“Well, guess I took a page out of your book then.” You say, narrowing your eyes at her.
You couldn’t stand her. Ever since she joined Payback all she’d done was try to catch Ben’s eye and get between the two of you, but he never gave her the time of day. She had quickly won the favor of everyone else on Payback, which only made you even more angry because it always seemed like you were the odd one out wherever you went.
Countess only sneers back in response, flipping her red hair over her shoulders. Despite Ben's exit the tension in the room is almost choking. Your so-called team was watching you with unreadable expressions and you suddenly got the impression that you were trespassing or interrupting. It had happened before, when you came to a training session early and you walked in on the rest of the team, sans Ben, talking in hushed tones and they immediately broke apart when you appeared.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that despite the fact you stood between Ben and Noir, the rest of the team still didn’t like having you there. Probably because they associated you with Ben. It made you uneasy.
Because despite Stan’s efforts to keep you all together Ben's continuous outbursts drove you all further and further apart. And you worried what would happen the day when the shoe finally dropped.
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One look at the clock on your wall showed that it was almost one in the morning, but you weren't tired. All you could think about is what almost happened to Noir. It wasn't that you particularly liked anyone on Payback other than Ben, honestly the whole superhero thing was getting tedious and you had considered more than once getting out.
But you couldn't. Sometimes you felt responsible for Ben, like you were the only thing keeping him on the straight and narrow. Of course every single damn day that road was getting narrower and narrower and now it was more like a balance beam than a two way street.
Ben's new outlook on life that revolved around drugs, women, more drugs, and more women didn't make it easier. 
You frown at your sketchpad remembering when Ben founded Herogasm. You'd gone the first time, regretted walking through the door, stayed ten minutes, and then left.
Sex without feelings never appealed to you, but that wasn't why you left, it was watching Ben with other women that hurt you. You could barely get through it when he mentioned something in passing, but watching him there with them made you uncontrollably angry and not to mention frustrated. You didn't understand him, couldn't understand why Ben was different around you. Didn't know why whenever you were alone he would give you hope, just to take it all away again.
How could so much change? How could everything go to shit so quickly?
You think of all the years that followed the night that Ben asked you to come with him, how you thought that Ben was telling you that he loved you in his own way. But he didn’t. You were realizing that now, as painful as it was to admit to yourself, Ben only saw you as a friend, would only ever see you as a friend.
When you decided to come with him you thought that the change would be your friendship into something else, but it never came, the only thing that changed was Ben.
A loud banging at your door makes your entire apartment shudder and pulls you out of your memories of the past.
There's only one person who can do that.
Your home was a small two-bedroom apartment in New York City, but you loved it. It was quaint and comfortable and each time you came home you felt relaxed because you were able to shut out the life you lived everyday. The small kitchen was barely big enough for two people to stand in, but it made it more intimate and cozy. The living room had a soft leather couch, but no tv despite Ben’s complaints that you should get one. He hated that you couldn’t watch his films when he came over. You liked listening to music more anyway. Your collection of vinyl lined the living room wall in clean bookcases next to a small record player. The spare bedroom served as your studio, not that you were trying to sell your art, but because you needed a place to exist where you weren't a supe and where you weren't in love with Ben. There were stacks of sketchbooks in the studio closet from when you were a child, but you couldn't bear to get rid of them. Sometimes you imagined living here with Ben, cooking in the small kitchen while he read the newspaper, lounging on the couch and listening to music together, and falling asleep on his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around you.
You sigh, pushing away the warmth of the thought, and wave your hand to telekinetically unlock the front door behind you. The familiar purple glow from your abilities fills the apartment. Ben had a key, but you figured he just wanted to make an entrance.
Always the drama queen.
“Got anything to drink?” He asks as he enters the living room.
You glance over the back of the couch to look at him. He's more casually dressed now, wearing a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt the same color of his suit.
“What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d stop by, see if you’re still pissed.”
“As I recall it was you that was pissed.” You roll your eyes at him.
“Only because you were getting in my way Sweetheart” The way he says your nickname is harsh and mocking, so different than the way the old Ben used to say it. When it sounded genuine, caring, almost special.
“Because you were about to rip Noir apart!” You gesture with the pencil in your hand, snapping your sketchpad shut.
“That pussy deserved it. Thinking he was better than me. I’m fucking Soldier Boy and he’s nothing more than a-“ Ben scoffs rolling his eyes.
“Ben I can’t do this if you’re gonna be like this right now.”  You interrupt pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingertips, still annoyed from earlier. You hated that he did that, when he made you feel like his babysitter, when he made you feel like you had to make apologies for him.
“Like what?”
“High, drunk, acting crazy-“
“I’m not acting fucking crazy!” He snaps.
“Ben-“ You begin with a sigh.
“Fine.” He spits. “We don’t have to fucking talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Thank you.” You wave a hand haphazardly towards the kitchen. “There should be some whiskey in there somewhere. Though I don’t think you need anything else to drink.” Your nose wrinkles as you inhale, the smell of stale alcohol wafting back, followed by the unmistakable scent of perfume and sweat.
The super senses really sucked sometimes. Smelling the women that Ben had sex with was an unfortunate skill you had acquired.
“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes, but waits for a minute eyeing you. “You’re not going to get it for me?”
You ignore his sharp tone and turn back to your sketchpad. “Nope. I don’t want to enable you.”
Ben stomps into your kitchen. It's immediately followed by the loud banging of him searching the cabinets for booze.
He should know where it is, spends enough time here.
“If you break anything, you’re going to fix it.” You shout opening your sketchbook back to the page you were on. You were drawing the Philadelphia of your youth, the familiar streets, the cars, and the women dressed in beautiful outfits.
“My hands are better suited for other things Sweetheart.” You hear him mutter under his breath and you try not to snap your pencil in half. His taunt made you think about Herogasm and the scent of perfume on his skin, and that was the last thing you wanted to think about.
Ben comes back and slumps onto the couch beside you, a large whiskey gripped in his hand. He sighs loudly to get your attention when you don't look up from your drawing.
"Alright, what is it?” You ask continuing to draw.
"Nothing.” He grumbles drinking from his glass.
“Ben, I’ve known you for over fifty years I can tell when you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Well I doubt it’s over what you said or did to Noir today. So what is it? What are you not upset about?”
"I just thought it would be different." Ben swirls the glass in his hands.
"What?"
"Being on Payback."
"What do you mean?" You continue to sketch the shape of a woman walking down the streets.
"When I first started doing all this fucking superhero shit it was different. Felt like I was promoting something, now it kinda feels like I’m just here. And no one respects me.”
“They’re not going to respect you if you keep threatening them and beating up whoever pisses you off.” You mutter.
“They might.” He snaps.
They won't.
"Well the way things are going with Russia I’m sure there will be another war." You sigh, thinking about the recent newspaper headlines. Everything was devoted to the Cold War, everyone was afraid of what Russia was doing or what they were planning. Stan Edgar and Legend were talking about some Anti-Communist campaign videos and posters that they wanted you to pose for, but you weren't sure you wanted to.
"You think so?" He sounds optimistic.
"I’m not gonna hope for one, but probably. I get it though. You’re doing all those movies and premieres and photo shoots, it doesn't feel real."
It was exactly how you felt. You felt that all this supe shit was coming to a head and what did you have to show for it? A few pictures of you holding up a car or a painted caricature of you on the side of a jet or a short film with stupid prerecorded lines that made no sense and even more ridiculous outfits that Legend tried to get you to wear. When you got the serum with Ben you thought you’d be contributing something to society, but no. It was just like when you were a child, dressed up like a China doll, made to be looked at but never used.
"I like those movies."
"I’ve noticed." You breathe remembering earlier when Ben almost killed Noir over the movie role.
Noir technically started that, but Ben just took it way too far.
"What about you?"
The question catches you off guard. “What about me?”
"You haven’t done any movies lately. Legend said that you turned down a few films." Ben takes a swig from the glass in his hand.
"Aren’t you afraid that I’ll steal some of your thunder Soldier Boy?” Your taunt. “Because I already saw what you tried to do to Noir today. And I’d rather you not beat me to a pulp-“
“You’re not like Noir. You’re different.”
“Mhmm. Sure.” You sigh rolling your eyes at him.
Ben sits there for a minute. You can feel his gaze on you. “I’d never hurt you y/n.”
The softer cadence of his voice makes you pause your pencil against the page. You knew it was true. Even when Ben was pissed off it was the line he never crossed. Ben never touched you when he was angry, but it never made it any easier to deal with him.
“Hey.” Ben whispers to get your attention, but you continue to look down at your paper. “Look at me.” His thumb comes under you chin to lift your eyes to his.
“You know that right?” Ben’s gaze is soft, you hadn’t expected it to be given the way he entered you apartment and his sullen mood. “You know that I’d never hurt you?”
The look in his eyes makes your throat tight, makes you see the Ben you used to know, who promised to look out for you and who promised to be strong for the both of you. And it hurts more than you thought it would, because you weren't sure that boy was still there.
“Yeah. I know.” You nod, but you don’t smile. You knew it was what he wanted to hear. “You’ve been talking to Legend about me?” You say to make the warm feeling of his touch fade.
He shrugs satisfied with your response, the softness fading from his eyes as he drops his hand. “I was worried.”
You fold your legs up under you. “I don’t know, I didn't love any of the scripts. And I’ve been thinking about getting out. I’ve been doing this so long-"
It was the first time you'd said it aloud to Ben. You'd mentioned it once to Legend and then made sure he never said anything about it. You weren't sure how Ben would react to you leaving.
"What?" Ben's eyes widen in surprise.
"Come on Ben, you’re telling me that you don’t want to have a normal life? Meet someone, have some kids, settle down? We’ve been doing this shit for years. Doesn’t get any easier."
"Sometimes.” He smirks at you. “So who’s the guy?”
“What?” You raise your eyebrows in confusion.
“The guy you’re going to settle down with.”
“What makes you assume that I’ve met him?”
“I mean, I’ve never seen you with anyone. And I’ve never walked in on you fucking anyone. Plus, you never come to Herogasm-“ Ben pauses. “It’s not Noir is it? Is that why you were protecting him today?”
“No.” You scoff, shading the side of a building to avoid his gaze, because how do you tell him that you met the only person you’d ever wanted when you were 8 years old?
“Good.” Ben drinks from his glass. “I do think about it sometimes.” He says it quietly.
“Huh?”
“The house, having a few rugrats.” He shrugs. “Might be nice.”
“Yeah.” Your throat is tight imagining Ben with someone else like Countess, sitting at his wedding, watching him say those vows to someone else. You didn't think you'd be able to just sit there if it came to that.
“How about you and I get married?” He says it nonchalantly.
You roll your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean it. He was just saying it to joke with you like always. Ben never saw you that way, you were realizing that more and more each day, even though it hurt to think it.
“We’d kill each other before we say I do.” You quip staring down at the page.
“Maybe. But really, we’ve known each other long enough-“
“That’s not a reason to get married. Plus, we both know that you’re not a one woman kind of guy and if you're actually being serious about this it would mean that you would have to change-“
You think about it. If Ben actually did want to commit, could he do it? His wandering eyes and hands would drive you crazy if he finally did want to start a relationship. You definitely did not want an open relationship. You wanted Ben to be wholly yours as much as you would be his, because you knew that if you devoted yourself to Ben, he would probably cheat, but then be furious if you spent any amount of time with someone else. You remembered all the ways he acted around Howard. Ben was crazy around him, and you and Ben hadn’t been together.
Imagine what he would do to someone else if we were.
“I can be a one woman kind of guy-“ Ben scoffs. “I can do anything.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” You mutter, but you know he can hear you.
Ben puts down his glass on your coffee table before his hand lays on top of yours against the sketchpad in you lap.
“Y/n.” He whispers. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, but you don’t look up at him, you can’t. Because you know as soon as you look into his eyes you’ll do whatever he wants.
But you didn’t want to be his consolation prize. You didn’t want Ben to marry you because he was bored, drunk, and he thought he might as well marry you. You wanted Ben to marry you because he was 100% head over heels for you as much as you were for him.
He tilts your chin upwards to look at him. Electricity thrums in your veins when you lock eyes, the look in his gaze is open, gentle, almost tender.
It reminds you of the boy you used to know. Lately you hadn’t seen him. If you were being honest, you hadn’t seen him much since the night he came to ask you to come with him, before the serum, when you thought he finally realized that he wanted you as much as you wanted him.
The only time you’d see the real Ben was when it was just the two of you, not the angry, macho, vengeful fighter for justice that he put on whenever he was in front of the team or in front of the cameras. You didn’t understand that. He said that showing emotions made him less of a man, but he never seemed to have a problem being different when it was just the two of you.
You hated that. In those quiet moments you felt your heart clench tight in your chest because each time you thought that he would finally admit that he loved you, that after all these years you were the one.
But he never did.
“I could change.” Ben whispers. “I could be with one woman.” 
“Ben.” You take in a deep breath to clear your head, fighting the ball of emotion that has begun to burn at the back of your throat. “You’re drunk.” You breathe.
He blinks a few times as if he can’t comprehend what you're saying.
“You always get like this when you’re drunk. You know?” You pull back from where his hand rests on your chin.  “But you can stay if you want. There’s some pizza in the fridge and I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed.” You stand and step around him, the urge to cry building in your chest.
“Okay.” Ben whispers to the air, because you're already gone, fleeing down the hallway before he can see you cry.
When you step into the shower you allow yourself to break. The soft sobs drowned out by the sound of running water. You wished you could move past this, all of this and more importantly you wished that you hadn’t fallen in love with him. 
Memories of the past lodge themselves in the back of your throat. You remember the day he begged you to come with him to get the Compound V injection, when you left your life behind and chose him. You thought that was his way of saying he loved you, that he couldn’t live without you. You were wrong. It hurt to admit that, but you were wrong. Ben didn’t try to build on the relationship you had, he kept it the same, the friendly banter, the hugs, hanging around with you whenever he couldn’t stand to be alone. He still slept over, but that’s all that happened. You thought that day meant something, that it was the beginning of something, some wonderful romanticized future filled with warmth and love.
You never thought it would be like this.
You didn’t regret going with him often, but on nights like this when it was late and Ben was drunk and he acted differently you did. Because it made you think that there was a chance of a future with him, but then when he woke up the next day sober, it started all over again with him being short tempered and a dick to everyone who was around him.
It was exhausting. And you didn’t know how much more of it you could take.
The only thing you regretted about the serum was that it made you immortal, invulnerable, and that meant whoever you decided to make a life with would die. There was only a handful of others like you and you hadn’t liked any of them except Ben. You wondered if this was your penance for saying no to Howard, your mother's last laugh when she said that Ben would never choose you and now you had to go on like this forever.
You remember the fear that you would be trapped in a marriage with Howard, you never thought that you'd feel trapped with Ben.
But now…
When you walk back into your bedroom, Ben’s already in your bed, laying on his back, smoking a blunt and looking at the ceiling. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants, that you bought him forever ago so he didn't have to sleep in his jeans, and the same t-shirt as before.
“What did I say about smoking those in here?” You sigh, getting into bed beside him, but being careful as to not touch even though it’s all you want.
“It’s a free country doll.” Ben mutters, but he puts it out in the ashtray that you left for him on the bedside table. Because you knew that he would continue to do it even when you told him not to.
The amount of times he ended up here at night always surprised you. Ben might have been bed hopping, snorting, and drinking himself into a stupor but the amount of times you woke up with him in bed next to you was astounding. He’d let himself in with the key you made him for emergencies while you were asleep. It was almost like he didn’t sleep in his apartment anymore and you hated how much you depended on him being there in the morning when you woke up. But the truth was, Ben was all you had, and the thought of losing him scared you. Which meant you continued to put up with the man he became, trying to hold tight to the image of the boy he used to be.
You lay on your back beside him, looking up at the ceiling. The inch of space between your bodies is almost too obvious. “I’m going to go to Philadelphia for a few days.” You breathe.
“Why?”
“My brother isn’t doing too well. His son called.” You say, your throat thick. “He said he thinks that it’s time.”
Your parents had passed a few years ago and Ben had gone to the funerals with you. When Ben’s father had passed, he hadn’t gone to the funeral, he’d drowned himself in the 21st annual Herogasm. And after he showed up on your doorstep smelling like sweat, drugs, booze, and cheap perfume. You’d made him take a shower before getting into bed. The next morning you had woken up in his arms, but more surprising was the fact that he had woken up before you and hadn't pushed you away, in fact he had held you closer to him. You figured that he needed someone there with him. His father had done and said horrible things to Ben, and you kept him company if that’s what he wanted, but couldn’t admit it.
“I’m sorry.” His hand finds yours on the bed. The gesture surprises you.
“Yeah. But that’s the way it is now, I guess.” You whisper, squeezing it.
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t age. Everyone else does. Means that we’ll always just see everyone else go.”
“But not us.” Ben says it like he’s trying to cheer you up.
“Yeah.” You sigh.
Does that mean it’s always going to be like this? Me waiting for him to come here after a 24 hour non stop orgy or after he’s had one two many? Just because he can’t stand the thought of being alone?
You didn’t want that future. You knew that he wanted to be there with you, but it wasn’t enough and it wasn’t the same thing you wanted.
Maybe getting out of this would be good. Put some distance between me and him, let me try to find me again.
Ben is quiet for a minute, the only sound you hear is the thrum of the blood in his veins and his heart steadily pumping it.
“Do you want me to come?” He says it slowly, his thumb rubs against the back of your hand in a soothing motion. 
The question breaks something inside of you, because you wanted nothing more than to have him there with you, but you didn’t want the version of Ben who was Soldier Boy, the loud, angry, short tempered version who was always high or drunk. The one that you felt that you needed to apologize for.
“Nah. It’ll be okay. I’ll get to see my great nephew. He’s supposed to be walking now.” You try to force cheeriness into your tone, but it doesn’t stick.
“Okay.”
You can’t help but wonder if Ben is hurt by your rejection. You did not often say no to him.
He doesn’t let go of your hand though, in fact he brings it up against his chest while he looks at the ceiling.
"Do you regret it?” Ben says in almost a whisper
"Hmm?”
“Coming with me.”
You pause for a second and think about lying, but finally settle on the truth. “Sometimes."
"Why?” Ben's voice rumbles against where your hand lays against his chest, and for a second you think he sounds almost pained.
"We’ve changed so much than who we were back then. Sometimes I don’t recognize myself.”
You didn’t want to say that it was him you didn’t recognize. Or that it always felt that you were running after the boy he used to be. The one that made you feel safe, comforted, made it feel like home.
"I don’t think change is a bad thing."
Of course you don't.
"It is if it’s in the wrong direction.” You whisper, but know he can hear you.
“So that’s why you want out? Because you don’t recognize yourself? Seems like a shitty reason."
“I just think it might be nice to try something new. I’ve been doing this for such a long time-“
“That’s why the films would be a good idea. If you want I can talk to the director about you being a co-star in the one we start filming next week. He won't say no to me-“ It was the closest you’d ever heard him come to pleading, besides the night he asked you to come with him to get the serum.
But why? Was it his way of keeping me with him? Was it because he didn’t want me to leave because he wanted me here? Or was it because he just wanted someone there to sit with when the silence was too much? The silence that seems to follow when he's not with me.
“Ben I’m okay. It’s okay I just want something different.”
“Like what?” You hand is still clutched in his where it rests over his chest and you can't help but wonder why. It was surprising. Sure Ben tolerated the occasional hug, but holding your hand for this long was unusual. You attributed it to the booze. When Ben got drunk he tended to be more clingy, he never admitted that, but you saw it.
“I don’t know. I just want a family again-“
“You have a family. You said you’re going to see your great nephew-" Ben says it like he doesn't want you to leave and it breaks something inside you.
How can he not admit that he cares about me? That he loves me? He has to after all these years doesn't he?
“I know. I mean I want a family. Someone to come home to every night, someone I love, someone who loves me-“ You fight to keep the frustrated tears from falling. The dream of him and you inhabiting your apartment together washes back over your mind in shades of gray. You wanted that so badly.
“Oh.”
“You don’t want that?” It’s taking everything for you not to tell Ben that you want it to be him, that you always wanted it to be him.
“Maybe.”
The silence grows between the two of you as you lay there and Ben still hasn't let go of your hand.
“Did you want to marry him?” He says after a few minutes.
“What?” You look at him confused. Ben isn't looking at the ceiling like you thought, he's looking at you. He almost looks, sorry. And you wonder again how much he's had to drink.
“That asshole." He clarifies.
"Howard?"
"Yeah."
“It’s been 40 years-“ You sigh as if it doesn’t matter. But it does. You chose Ben that night and you thought that him asking you to come with him meant that he was choosing you as well.
“Come on.” Ben squeezes the hand that rests against his chest.
“Why does it matter?"
“Because you’re saying you wanted a family. Someone to come home to and that pussy would have given it to you.”
You pause for a second trying to read his expression. “I like the idea of marriage. Of saying those vows to someone else.” You say slowly. “But I didn’t want to say them to Howard.” You don’t say that you wanted to say them to Ben, don’t say that the night he told you not to marry Howard you thought he was trying to tell you that he wanted to marry you instead.
“So you want to say them to someone?”
“Yeah. One day.” You frown, turning back to look at the ceiling. “You never want to say them to someone?”
Ben doesn’t answer immediately. “Maybe.”
Probably Liberty.
You sigh to yourself thinking about one of your least favorite supes that you’d come across. She wasn’t terrible, just pushy and into supes being united together. You also didn’t like that she felt that supes deserved to be worshiped, that supes were gods, but you knew you weren't. The powers were not random, the gifts were not given by God, they were given by the devil and all those deals came with a price. Even if you tired to walk away, you wondered if Vought would let you go. You also hated how much time Ben spent with her.
The thought of her leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and despite how good it feels, you pull your hand free from Ben's grasp  and turn your back to him, cuddling into your pillow. Your grip is so tight on fluffy material you wonder how it hasn't ripped, but you need to stop talking to him. Talking to him when he was like this made it harder and right now it was taking everything not to cry again.
And you were just so tired of everything. You wondered if one day it would be different.
“Goodnight Ben.” You whisper.
“Goodnight.”
And just as you drift into a dreamless sleep, you think you feel him put his arm around your waist and pull your back into his chest, but when you wake up the next day you forget and Ben is gone.
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n/a: Yeah, this chapter is really sad. And I wish that I could say it gets better, but honestly, it's gonna get a lot worse before it gets better. 😭😭😭
Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know :)
Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303
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@bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts
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mothboypoison · 4 months ago
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Fushiruha Propaganda
If you follow me, or you've seen me in the Kagurabachi tag, you might be wondering why it is exactly I'm so incredibly obsessed with this rarepair. Well... I'm not very good at organising my thoughts because I'm cursed with Airheadedness but here is my (possibly futile) attempt to DRAG YOU ON BOARD THIS SHIP!
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What's up with the ship name?
Let's get this out of the way first. I'm calling it Fushiruha because it rolls off the tongue nicely; this is the ship name I use to be non-specific about the top/bottom positions. I'm just referring to them as being together generally.
You might also see FushiUru used, and the Japanese tag is 伏漆. Previously the ship was known as BanUru (バン漆) and you will also see it called Yogurt.
Okay! With that out of the way I shall talk about all the reasons as to why you should ship Uruha and Fushimi!
They look good together!
What do you mean that's not a reason? Of course it is.
And they do look good together! See:
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Let's see, we've got:
Light hair x dark hair. Always some of the best kinds of contrast.
Sharp silhouette x flowy silhouette. More contrast, which makes the two of them together very visually appealing.
Dark clothes x light clothes. In addition to the hair, makes for very nice contrast.
They're both hot. This is undisputed.
Long range x short range. You might have to just trust me on this one. I like to believe that that's an archer's chest guard Fushimi wears; combine that with Uruha's katana, and we have more wonderful contrast... or they complement each other!
Moving onto something of substance.
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Devotion
Fushimi was 11 years old when the Seitei War was fought. We got that information along with his name. I don't think that it's too much of a leap to assume he may have looked up to somebody like Uruha. With that in mind, this is how he reacts to Uruha - someone he could have admired - breaking down in front of him. He reassures him of how hard he fought and he swears to protect him.
It's a dynamic I really enjoy; the bodyguard and the one they're sworn to protect. And Fushimi takes his duty seriously. He's perfectly willing to die even if it means he can buy Uruha some time. That's it. All he wants to do is give him the best chance of escape.
Look at the screenshot I posted to prove they look good together. Fushimi doesn't believe that they have a chance of defeating the Hishaku, but that doesn't matter. The only thing that matters to him is Uruha.
He's willing to give his life for him. That's romance!
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Familiarity
It's clear that Uruha spent a lot of time with his men and even though Fushimi said that they didn't have a chance, he believed in them.
I'm also going to unashamedly link to Hest's post about Fushiruha, namely to mention that Fushimi refers to Uruha with a pronoun which indicates that they're super close. And how could they not be!? Three years spending every day together, of course they're close.
(Side note, just go and read Hest's whole post, okay? It's better than mine).
After the Kokugoku Steam Squad defeat the Hishaku (or, think that they defeat them), Fushimi suggests they give Uruha a warm welcome. Now I'm not openly bananas enough to believe that Hokazono was indicating that Fushimi's gonna go and fuck the daylights out of Uruha, but he wants to go and surprise Uruha. To me it indicates that they are indeed close with one another.
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Motivation
Uruha was ready to die. He says this in his introductory chapter, when he's having his daily naked-bath-with-bodyguard.
Then Samura comes along and he's going to kill him, and Uruha understands his reasoning for it. Yet he doesn't want to die because of what Fushimi and the others sacrificed for him. Fushimi's sacrifice was largely what motivated him to fight Samura, because he couldn't throw his life away after what they did.
And also... this may be wishful thinking on my part, but I don't think it's out of the realm of possibility - Fushimi's closeness with him, his clear bond with the squad - that after he was devasted to learn the news of Kunishige's death, it was Fushimi who helped him keep on going through those three years. Fushimi gave him a reason to live, even when he died.
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A Kagurabillion Flashbacks
The Kokugoku Steam Squad died in chapter 48. Uruha flashed back to them, or to Fushimi... several times. He flashed back to them before they died, as a matter of fact - Uruha fled the fortress in chapter 47, so shall we tally up how many times he thought about him?
There were 2 flashbacks before the steam squad died. Then a further 8 flashbacks after they died, including right before Uruha died. And one of those times was flashing back to when they were in the hot spring together. You can't expect me not to take something from that.
One of his final thoughts was of Fushimi.
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Various Fun Tropes
Okay I'm losing my train of thought. Here's some miscellaneous things about them that I enjoy.
They're doomed!! One of the most fun tropes there is. They fall in love but Fushimi is fated to sacrifice himself for Uruha, only for it to be in vain. This one's extra fun if you think about how Fushimi may have looked up to Uruha as a hero; he was one of the children that Uruha fought the war for, only for him to die in the end.
Age gap!! Fushimi is 29 in canon. We don't know Uruha's age, but given that - based on the flashback of him with Kunishige - he was a teenager at the youngest during the war (18, let's say, likely at the youngest, though he could have been a little younger) he's probably in his mid-thirties. Very fun to pair a jaded war veteren with a younger, energetic man who has only really known peacetime.
Knight/prince dynamic! C'mon, this goes perfectly alongside bodyguard/protected. Fushimi is there to serve Uruha. Even more fun if you take Uruha's silly, childish nature and interpret him as being bratty or spoiled.
GRIEF!! I cannot talk about this enough. Uruha being lost in grief and Fushimi being the one to pull him out of it. Please.
Now, the most important reason...
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BECAUSE I LIKE IT.
I am your dear friend mothboypoison, and I adore this ship, therefore I think you should join me. Please. Please. I'm informed this is a rarepair but I live in such a bubble that it might as well be one of the most popular Kagurabachi ships. Join me!!
♥ ♥ ♥
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GO READ SOME FANFICTION!
It would be remiss of me not to promote fanfiction, so click on that link! There are 71 fanfics for this ship at the moment. Please read every single one of them, like the studious ship scholar you were born to be.
If you don't have time to read them all (boo!) here are some recommendations. If it were up to me, I would recommend them all, but I have restricted myself to five fics and no more than one per author, but feel free to DM me if you want more recs and I will happily provide (the answer is all of them). I decided to pick five which are set within canon for accessibility, but there's tonnes of post-canon ones and AUs too!
naqoyqatsi by Simbay
extraordinary by baconNeggs
An Arrow Straight Through My Heart by smallweirdo
A Better Tomorrow by Ms_Juniper
MODERATION by Froggo
It was so hard to just pick five. You don't understand. That's why I restricted myself to canon timelines and even then it was hard. Please just read every fic in that tag, then when you're done, write some. I will read them all and leave you a gushingly adoring comment.
IN CONCLUSION, I LOVE FUSHIRUHA AND YOU SHOULD TOO
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yuri-is-online · 11 months ago
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TDB Episode 7 Thoughts
So this episode sort of felt like a filler chapter between "Meeting the Ghouls" and "the Laurel Crown" arcs of the story. I didn't mind since I really like Yuri and Jiro's dynamic, but the pacing of the story was very quick and not a whole lot happened, after an Episode as loaded with action as Obscuary's it can feel a bit like a let down.
Now as for specific thoughts:
I want to start by saying I appreciate how Yuri doesn't believe in the prophecy because it isn't scientific but 100% thinks he is the chosen one, the champion anyway. Yes, have that self confidence that is nothing but a paper shell built on lies to cover your insecurities king! We love a pathetic meow meow in this house!
His connection to Frostheim... I have had this crack theory in my head that he is related to Jin somehow, like maybe he's his brother or something, but I do think how he talks about Frostheim makes me think he is either a transfer to Mortranken or used to be closer to Jin than he is now. We all are pretty sold on Haku being the one who sold Jin out, but there is a chance it could have been Yuri too I suppose.
We were right! Zenji and Jiro are brothers! And we have Zenji's real name, Taro Kirisaki! He doesn't seem to hate it or anything he is just really proud of his role as a man of the quill so he uses a pen name.
Zenji really loves his brother huh. "If anything were to happen to him I might not survive it this time round" I'd be willing to bet that whatever happened to the Krisaki brothers was connected, it's just that Zenji got dumped at Darkwick General while Jiro was taken in by Yuri. Zenji's voicelines about a brother "in his rebellious phase" and his struggle to express his love for his older brother makes me think they might have been at odds before the clash... maybe Jiro hated how laid back Zenji was when he literally made a deal with a demon? Of course he did too... but maybe Zenji's was related to trying to make Jiro healthy? He seems to have some sort of auto-immune disease and while that could be a side-effect of the coma but it could also be something Jiro's always struggled with and explain why Zenji is so protective of him. I bet they were killed by the same anomaly...
Sorry I have a lot of feelings about the Kirisaki brothers... what happened to them? Why does no one care that they're dead and dying other than Yuri? I don't think Zenji cares that much that Jiro doesn't remember him so long as he's alive... but would it bother Jiro if he could remember? Does he ever find himself making tea and turn to scold someone for talking too much, he's being annoying again but there isn't anyone there and he doesn't know who he's scolding because it wasn't Yuri... does he know how to make tea because Zenji insisted on teaching him? Is Zenji the one who he would tease about being afraid of dead bodies before MC?
Right on not simp notes: we have more information about the murder, the victim was from Ultio! And the murder predated the Clash so it's pretty safe to say the inability of the school to find the murderer is probably what kicked things off.
We also have hints of a mermaid student, so be patient fish fuckers we- I mean you will be getting fed soon. This student seems to be known to Yuri and Haru, and Haru's reaction suggests he might think of him as a friend? He's not beating the Steve Irwin allegations is he, I'm surprised Ed isn't obsessed with him at this point. Then again I think Ed would resent me implying he's an animal, but we've seen the inside of his room so I rest my case.
Nicholas appears to be in hot water with the Institute, and he is not trusted by Yuri. Cornelius references something he calls "the Dionysia breakout" as being Nicholas's fault to contain... given that those students are missing and Nicholas has only recently found them... I want more information before I say anything but Yuri's explanation of how he sees anomalous anything illnesses I think it makes sense to say an anomaly outbreak occurred in the Dionysia dorm that was not contained by its ghouls, something the school blames Nicholas for.
The school knew the MC was going to turn into an anomaly and did not tell her "for her mental health." I like MC's mixed feelings on this. On the one hand I don't think she would have handled it well if we had learned it immediately. On the other, I am a firm believer that information is not something that should be gate kept, and hey. It's the MC's life she deserves to know what happened to her. I think I land on not trusting Darkwick but I do trust Yuri, I want to know why he's so determined to cure MC but I don't doubt his sincerity in the slightest. If I had to say who is most determined to see MC cured, I'd say its Yuri and Haru. And Zenji but he's out of commission at the moment. Yuri has an ego the size of his forehead, but he does seem very passionate about curing anomalous diseases and takes failures a bit more personally than he'll ever admit to. Haru is just a stand up guy who seems like he wants the best for those he loves, and he really does seem to love MC! He says he'd trust her with his life! That's my dorm captain he's literally the best <3
The tree is curious, one of the fruits looked a bit better, but then it shrunk after the announcement of the Laurel Crown and the Gala coming back... which I guess makes sense? The ghouls are fighting again, technically, and if their hate for each other is what makes the tree sick then I don't think it is going to get better. Speaking of the tree... poor MC.
Yuri's description of an anomaly that could destroy the world does match up with how Ed describes the Kyklos. Dani and I talked about this already, but that name (in addition to being super similar sounding to cyclops explaining why she has one eye) is ancient greek for cycle. It is typically used to refer to a theory about human history that depicts it as being a cycle between Dark and Golden ages, how this monster came to be is something I'd be super interested to learn about... I have some theories but they're 100% pure Colombian crack with no evidence.
That being said, Ed knows what it is but Darkwick's staff does not... Ed revealing the MC is going to turn into a monster to the whole student body makes a lot of sense for him to do actually. He sees it as him helping the MC because he wants the ghouls to compete to cure her, and knowing how he thinks of humans he probably assumed they wouldn't do so unless there was an incentive so that's why he made that the goal the dorms would have to meet to win the Laurel Crown.
Speaking of which... Sho. Shohei. Hyde has him doing a special mission, wonder what that is huh? Whatever it is, that's suspicious. That's weird. I've got both my eyes on you Mr. Playboy, Lyca wouldn't do this to me maybe he should get to keep the babygirl title.
... also I really love the "if it were not for the laws of this land I would have killed you" vibes Rui, Tohma, and Haku had during their little conversation. I was dying, "oh hiiiii Rui :D so nice to see you NOT IN THE SHADOWS STALKING ME. DID YOU KNOW HE CAN DO THAT MC? GO INTO SHADOWS AND STALK YOU? NO???" Haku just being like "teehee maybe MC and I are a thing Tohma" and Tohma leaving that on read because who cares? Not him his interests are classified but I swear its ntr- *i am shot and dragged from the premises*
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olasketches · 11 months ago
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I find sukuna's enraged reaction to being pitied so interesting, considering that he, himself, admitted that he didn't expect that someone (or maybe just yuuji) offering him pity would anger him so much. honestly looking at all sukuna's interaction with other characters like jogo, yuuji, gojo... the contrast in how he talks about being strong and how he talks about being weak is quite striking.
despite having a huge superiority complex, he never gives any boasting comments about himself, like gojo for example. he even praises others, sorcerer and curses alike, for their strength, which again is contrary to gojo who often belittles and degrades his opponents. however, sukuna's behaviour is not actually opposite of gojo's, because while he admires others' strength, he finds being weak disgusting in itself. you see, gojo never had a problem with other people being weak because being weak is not something he could ever relate to like "yeah, those guys are weak but how is that my problem?". others being weak never really disgusted him, not like it does sukuna, but rather amused him (probably why he teased and bullied utahime and ichiji so much lol) anyway, my point is that, sukuna's attitude doesn't contrast gojo's, it mirrors it.
gojo's problem was that he was obsessed with being the strongest. he desperately wanted to live up to his title, but not because he had some deep-seated insecurity about being weak, but because that's all he's ever been. he wrapped his entire identity around it, which in result made him believe that he could only relate to people who were just as strong as him. then there is sukuna... who on the other hand... (dramatic pause)... is obsessed with being weak or rather he desperately doesn't want to be seen as someone who's weak. sukuna keeps insulting and belittling yuuji for being weak, despite yuuji CLEARLY not being weak. yuuji's own humanity and the strength he derives from it, exposes sukuna's own deep-seated weakness and dare I say... insecurity.
at the beginning of this post I said how sukuna has a big superiority complex, which now, after the recent canon events it almost borderlines with an inferiority complex. the thing is that, superiority complex and inferiority complex are kinda the same thing. they both stem from a deep-seated feeling of inadequacy, with the only difference being that someone with an inferiority complex tends to express these feelings as anxiety and submissiveness, whereas someone with a superiority complex overcompensates by acting as if they're god's gift to mankind, which is the later for both sukuna and gojo. however, unlike gojo, whose own superiority complex comes from the fact he was treated like a god by everyone in his clan since he was born, sukuna's superiority complex and its origins can still only be found in the subtext. we know that he was born an unwanted little wretch and people hated him, most likely feared him due to his own abnormal appearance and probably later his overwhelming strength. I don't want to dive too much into this since we don't actually know sukuna's backstory, we can only speculate based on what we know. however, it's his conversation with yuuji after he possessed megumi that interest me the most. he says...
Well, saying it from my perspective; why are all of you so weak. Why (are you) so obsessed over living despite being so weak
and let's not forget, sukuna is the only character who thinks yuuji is weak, which makes the rest of his speech all the more interesting, as he continues...
How can living things who keep collapsing easily say that they wish to be happy forever?
now this is funny, because several chapters later he admitted that no matter how many times he tries to break yuuji, he keeps getting back up, he's either contradicting himself again (and well.. he IS) or...
It’s better for all of you to spend your whole life crushing fitting misfortune for you
he's not only referring to yuuji here... sukuna genuinely believes that the weak should spend their whole lives chewing on their suffering, as is their natural state... but why?
after yuuji offered sukuna mercy, sukuna felt looked down upon and got down right pissed, which even shocked sukuna himself. why would that offend him? after all, he KNOWS he's strong not even gojo's taunts could get to him or yorozu trying to teach him about love, something he supposedly already knows about. why did yuuji offering him sympathy enraged him so much? shouldn't he just laugh in his face for believing he could beat him?? it seems like.. MAYBE.. in that moment, yuuji unintentionally touched on a very sore spot there, revealing sukuna's own insecurity: being seen as weak.
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misasimagines · 9 months ago
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happy birthday Jiro!!! conspiracy time.
Okay, I don’t have any fics or hcs for Jiro’s birthday, but I do have a theory. I don’t think Yuri actually wants Jiro to get healthier and might actually prefer it if he stays unhealthy and dependent on Yuri. Theory below! This is long... If I missed anything or got anything wrong or if anyone has additional information to submit, PLEASE!!! Share!!!!
I also wrote this frantically to post before midnight lmao please go easy on me...
To start, we should look into what we know about Yuri:
He’s a transfer from Frostheim for reasons that have left him on very very very bad terms with Jin and Frostheim as a whole. He’s referred to as having run away to hide in Mortkranken. Whether he is the friend who betrayed Jin or not, I can’t say, but it’s very possible he was involved in something that left Jin and co upset with him to the point of basically exiling him. 
He’s afraid of Romeo, so Sinostra is another out for him by default. Why is he afraid, again, I can’t say, but this leaves him without possible support from two big possible financial backers. Since he is very serious about the budget and how Mortkranken looks, this is a bad thing for him and one he is assuredly very aware of. Remember, Yuri is obsessed with his own legacy, his own image. Mortkranken’s success is Yuri’s success. Mortkranken looking poor and having no accolades reflects poorly on him and he cannot separate himself from this.
He can’t fight, either by choice or lack of ability, and relies on Jiro to protect him. This is something they both acknowledge and is a feature of the Mortkranken chapter. It makes sense, as his stigma is not particularly combat focused and he complains about exercise.
And he has no allies or friends currently, at least publicly. Everyone who references him does so with a bit of distaste or distance, and when he is trying to convince his own Mortkranken students to help him and the MC carry up the vat of acid, he has to bribe them. He cannot appeal to their loyalty to him as their captain, their respect, their friendship- no, he has to pay them to help him.
Mortkranken as a whole operates on a laissez-faire foundation, where Yuri isn’t even aware of what the gen admission students are researching or who is interning at Darkwick General. Within his own house, the one he is the captain of, he is still an outsider and isolated from his peers.
If you go through Yuri’s home screen lines, he refers to Jiro A LOT, and like… no one else. Dude can’t do anything without having Jiro do it for him or with him. Their dynamic is very much Yuri ordering Jiro around and Jiro obeying (with complaints here and there, but mostly he just goes through with it all). There’s even a suggestion that Jiro might be the most effective impulse control that Yuri has. After failing to cure the MC’s cure with his new ibuprofen knockoff, he wants to jump right into shooting her up with anomaly blood without acknowledging the danger this could put her in. Jiro has to comment that there’s no reason to do this hastily, as it could kill her. Only then does Yuri back down and seem to recognize he was being too impulsive in his desire to hide his perceived failure. 
From all of this, we can see that Yuri does have a vested interest in keeping Jiro by his side. Jiro is smart, strong, seems to have few qualms with putting himself in danger, and is pragmatic enough as to acknowledge that he needs Yuri to survive. Why would Yuri pick Jiro, though, if he could have reasonably recruited someone else to protect him or be his assistant? There are physically stronger and more healthy ghouls, like Alan, or he could have tried to bond with someone more amenable like Rui (however, it seems like Rui might not be the biggest Yuri fan…more on that later) Well…
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Jiro also… He’s not completely clear about his memory issues: 
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For someone who is so straightforward, this seems VERY unclear and peculiar to me. He doesn’t say he doesn’t remember, he says his memories are vague and that there’s no evidence either way. If he is a suspect or if he did commit the murder and he DOES remember, then here’s another way Yuri could buy his alliance: corroborate Jiro having amnesia as a symptom of his sickness, or even worse, cause amnesia. After the graveyard, inter-house mission chapter and Jiro’s reaction to the crying ghost child, it’s not unfounded to say Jiro himself might have wanted to get rid of unpleasant memories.
Also note that the Vagastrom student says “kid” from Ultio, and Jiro’s negative reaction is to a ghost child. 
Now that we have that out of the way, what are some reasons how Yuri would potentially keep Jiro unhealthy and therefore reliant on him? The voiceline that started this theory is Jiro’s affinity 22 home screen voice line:
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I’m not a medical student or a doctor or particularly versed in any of this, but from a little bit of research, my understanding is that simple interrupted sutures are used on shallower, more surgical cuts and could potentially leave lasting marks, while deep dermal sutures are done on a deeper layer of the flesh, more effective on larger wounds, and are generally meant to be used with suture materials that can be absorbed by the body once the wound has closed. Given that Jiro is noted to not heal very well, and Yuri frequently has to redress his wounds, it seems like maybe the shallower stitches aren’t holding up. Additionally, it doesn’t look like Jiro’s wounds are all exclusively surgical. Let’s take a minute to look at Jiro shirtless for conspiracy reasons, not lust reasons (okay, maybe some lust reasons):
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Most of the cuts on his back and arms look like claw marks. They’re more jagged, asymmetric, and inconsistent. The scar down his chest is pretty strange given the star shapes, so that’s likely related to Yuri’s surgical incisions, but that’s not what Yuri is treating here. He’s treating the claw marked shaped wounds. Jiro is also NOT stupid, so the fact that he’s suggesting this is not to be overlooked. Yuri chooses not to listen, maybe because it would be more effective, and then he’d rely on Yuri less.
Then there are these moments:
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The first one is a blatant lie, as Jiro is the one who does most of the shot-administering. He does the MC’s checkups, including bloodwork and giving her the dosage of Yuri’s liquid tylenol. The only time he falters in this is when his illness acts up and makes him shaky. So no, he doesn’t have a lack of expertise that keeps him from administering his own shots unless there’s something currently unknown (or I’m missing).
For the second screenshot, this is during the conversation between Yuri and Jiro where Jiro has presumably come back from Frostheim and is lying or experiencing memory problems when relaying his whereabouts to Yuri. He’s experiencing what they refer to as “cyanosis” which is low oxygen in the blood, causing extremities to change color in purple/blue (something you can see on his hands in his Halloween look, so it’s likely a recurring or constant condition). 
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Yuri gives him an adrenaline shot, which, again, not in the medical field, but this seems fine? Adrenaline would speed up his heart which would encourage blood and oxygen flow to his extremities which would likely help. 
Jiro then requests metoclopramide hydrochloride which is a medication taken by people with gastrointestinal issues generally related to diabetes and acid reflux. It’s supposed to help with nausea and vomiting, both symptoms that pop up a lot for him. If he was in a coma for a long time and admits to not being able to eat anything, then this request of his makes sense. His stomach lining and esophagus were likely damaged by intubation and stomach acid, and any related surgery or medication could only add to this damage. 
Yuri responds just by giving him a glucose shot instead which Jiro allows, but it seems like this would only work if he had low blood sugar and not a wealth of other issues that he definitely has. I’m sure low blood sugar is something he experiences as well due to his inability to eat anything, but I don’t see anything that says this would treat his nausea. Curious that Yuri might be intentionally leaving Jiro to experience negative side effects!
And then there is, ultimately, Jiro lying or having memory issues when he claims to have been to Obscuary but returns to Mortkranken with snowflakes in his hair and he’s borderline hypothermic. Jiro is very blunt and straightforward, which could lead you to believe he doesn’t lie, but I don’t think that’s necessarily the correct position to take. He’s smart, he’s crazy smart when it comes to the medical field to the point that he’s making major discoveries with little acknowledgment from himself because he sees them as minor. Anything that Yuri does to him that isn’t 100% going to help him heal? He knows. And who else knows?
Rui.
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Rui can watch things going on without anyone knowing he’s there, and he just so happens to interrupt a conversation where Tohma is CLEARLY trying to use leading questions on the MC to get her to reveal some information that would implicate a Mortkranken student, likely Jiro, as being a suspect in whoever interrogated and potentially killed a Frostheim student. Rui shows up and gives him an alibi. Why? Not sure, I have no clue what Rui’s relationship is to Jiro or if this interaction was purely to spite Tohma or if it was in opposition to Yuri somehow, but it’s suspicious nonetheless how this plays out.
So, basically, I don’t trust that Yuri has Jiro’s best interests at heart. I don’t mean to say in any of this that Yuri is evil, but I think he’s afraid and he’s clinging to a method of preserving his safety and that method is Jiro. As long as Jiro is reliant upon Yuri for medical care, Yuri can throw him at his problems and use him as an assistant and bodyguard. I also really hope to see how Rui is involved, if at all, and I have a general vibe that Rui, reaper as he is, might be able to see and/or hear Zenji... But that's just a vibe, I don't have evidence for that one :)
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diorsluv · 1 year ago
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feather , part 25
“ not caring where you are tonight ”
series m. list previous chapter next chapter
( socialmedia!au )
lhughes_06
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liked by yourusername, trevorzegras, rutgermcgroarty, and 99,376 others
lhughes_06 i got you blocked after this, an afterthought 🎶
tagged: yourusername
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markestapa YOU BLOCKED OUR SWEET AMAZING LIL DRIZZY??
→ lhughes_06 NO DUMBASS
→ markestapa HUH??
→ markestapa OHHHHHHH
→ lhughes_06 🙄🙄
yourusername hey that’s me!
→ lhughes_06 it’s you ☺️
yourusername also THE SABRINA CARPENTER REFERENCE??? i’ve taught you well
→ lhughes_06 yes you have
username24 the way luke is so blatantly professing his love
username48 i was a dryshughes supporter from the start 💪💪
trevorzegras atta boy
liked by lhughes_06
_quinnhughes fucking finally
→ lhughes_06 be quiet
dylanduke25 only took you 100,000,000, years
→ lhughes_06 did not
→ dylanduke25 did too
→ lhughes_06 liar
→ dylanduke25 truther
username38 oh so is that other girl finally gone
username79 y’all when i tell you i have the DRAMA
→ username64 don’t be shy share with the class
→ username79 apparently luke blocked her months ago but she keeps harassing the drysdales 🤷‍♀️
→ username22 the attention seeking is crazy ig
rutgermcgroarty fruity ass caption
→ lhughes_06 fuck off 🙄
→ rutgermcgroarty 🍏🍎🍐🍉🍇🍊🍓🍋🫐
mackie.samo did my pep talks finally get to you
→ lhughes_06 barely even pep talks but whatever helps you sleep at night
edwards.73 did bro finally do what i think he did
→ markestapa just found out he didn’t what a pussy
→ lhughes_06 I WILL I WILL just not rn 😔
jackhughes moosey grew some balls did he?
→ lhughes_06 stfu im telling on u
→ jackhughes was gonna say i’m proud but ig not
username40 other girl is out of the picture now
→ username59 she was never in the picture sweetie
username37 wait so was luke fr just fucking around w miss girl
→ username8 they probably jus hung out a few times but i don’t think they went that far
→ username13 but the smoochie smoochie posts????
→ username29 we’re all too deep in the dryshughes lore
jamie.drysdale yeah you better have blocked her
liked by lhughes_06
→ username66 protective jamie 🥹🥹
_alexturcotte AYEEE LUKEY BOY
adamfantilli YO????
username14 ITS FINALLY HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM EVERYONE STAY FUCKING CALM
yourusername
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liked by colecaufield, luca.fantilli, edwards.73, and 94,018 others
yourusername ridin in a getaway car 🚇
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trevorzegras is that not a fucking subway emoji in the caption of a post quoting our lord and savior taylor swift except the post is also in a FUCKING SUBWAY STATION
→ yourusername did not think this would evoke so much emotion from you trev
→ trevorzegras you used getaway car but it’s practically a damn train.
→ yourusername IM SORRYYY
→ jackhughes the paragraph…
luca.fantilli the yankees hat.
→ yourusername what r u gonna do abt it 🤨
→ luca.fantilli dont play w me 😒😒😒
_quinnhughes is that where u two went
→ username76 “u two” WHO
→ colecaufield was it a date 😱
→ yourusername it was not a date 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️
username71 oh my god is this what love feels like
→ username43 ask luke he can confirm (probably)
username9 body goals ahhhhh
markestapa stay safe on subways bc there’s a criminal minds episode where someone got killed in a subway station
→ yourusername bro that was like season 3??? it literally came out when we were KIDS
→ markestapa IT WAS A TERRORIST GROUP
→ yourusername oh my god you’re insane
→ markestapa if you die in a subway station just know i was right
jamie.drysdale who bought that drink bc ik it wasn’t u
→ yourusername how do u know
→ jamie.drysdale i can still see your credit card history
→ yourusername STOP.
→ lhughes_06 i bought it
→ jamie.drysdale such a gentleman lukey boy
rutgermcgroarty i do not understand your obsession with green-colored drinks
→ yourusername this is a judgement free zone
→ rutgermcgroarty ✌️🤙✊
lhughes_06 solid pics
→ yourusername appreciate the compliment that was definitely meant for me
→ lhughes_06 but i mean that photographer just seems to be super talented
→ yourusername mhm!
→ lhughes_06 and super cute too
→ yourusername oh!! well!!!
→ lhughes_06 just overall a great person
→ yourusername ofc ofc!!!!
→ markestapa goddamn just say you’re fucking
username26 mother is mothering
username19 WHERE IS THE TOTE BAG FROMMM
username57 the outfit is so good!!
username65 i swear luke is putting his heart out on the line ready to risk it ALL
→ username31 i meannn i would do it too
edwards.73 you’re either real fuckin oblivious or real fuckin evil
→ yourusername maybe a little bit of both 🤫
dylanduke25 i swear to god if neither of you make a move i will do it for you
→ yourusername aw you’re no fun duker
→ dylanduke25 you’re killing me here
_alexturcotte i’m so damn invested in this relationship i’ve spent literal dollars on you two
→ yourusername LMAOOO
→ yourusername it’s okay tho ur rich
→ _alexturcotte is that all u see me as 😐
→ yourusername my rich, loving, amazing, kind, generous, honorary brother 🤗🤗
→ _alexturcotte there we go
→ jamie.drysdale i feel like i’m being disowned and replaced here 😕
next chapter notes ) i’m really milking it here w the luke being a simp but it’s okay because we love that do we not?? BUT THEY’RE NOT DATING YET and that last jamie reply.. i just realized that’s basically what just happened with the trade but uh! it’s okay bc he’s happy fairly short chap but i hope you enjoy it all the same
tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys@loveforaugust
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fancyfeathers · 3 months ago
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So I am "burn it all down" number 1 stan actually.
I just think it so special and unique, and the way that you write the story, it just works.
Honestly, I thought there was some potential chemistry between Zataras son and Bruce's daughter, but I'm still the number 1 throuple supporter 😭
The whole thing with Diana's son being the heir to a Greek throne is so Jsjsksksksk! I'm holding out hope for King Diana's son, and he's tryna run the kingdom, and he's doing it quite successfully, but his wives rule his life! TELL ME THAT ISN'T PERFECT 😔 They hate when you serve supportive husband.
He's like a KING too so he can marry them both and it's just JDJDJDJ.
He's in an important meeting, and one of his advisers demands to know where the Queens are, and he's literally willing his eye not to twitch cause they are both stopping an extraterrestrial threat 😭
I am also a clove stan so I hope she's still alive and well 😭
Do you think that oliver and dinah were trying to replace their child with reader?
Ra's is back?! AGAIN?! bro he's actually obsessed I can't 😳 😭
I am just so intrigued and in love with the entire thing, like it's perfect.
I have more thoughts, honestly, but this is a lot for one ask 😭
Thank you for having passion for your stories because I genuinely enjoy reading them all 💜💜
Lmao, Bruce’s daughter being a little flirt and having chemistry with anyone she meets, a natural born flirt, it’s cause it was so taboo for her to date anyone growing up. Now she was engaged once before to a person who turned out to be a psychopath, but still.
But Diana’s son being so down bad for Supergirl and Songbird, like him and Songbird are the team leaders of their group but the moment either of his girlfriends asks him to do something, he would get on his knees for them. He was raised by a bunch of women, he knows how to respect women. But like one day when he does return to his ancestral home and take up the mantle that he was born for and reestablishes Ithaca as it’s own kingdom and nation again, I don’t think he would publicly show off his relationship, respecting his partners’ privacy.
ALSO YES! I am so happy someone caught the reference to the old team from my other series. I will say Clove is alive, in fact she is the one getting the surgery done that was mentioned in chapter five. Now not everyone on that old team is fine, Henbane and Clove are fine and they got married to each other, but Foxglove and Nettle… not so much.
Without spoiling too much, Dinah and Oliver were sort of trying to replace their child with Bruce’s daughter (Songbird), but more so full that void, thinking their actual child is dead, but we will cover that in a later chapter.
And yes, Ra’s is back, but I will say in a way he has Bruce’s daughter’s best interest in mind, at least a way to keep her safe, but I am not going to say much else because that will give too much away. There are bigger things to worry about that are going to come up in the story… wait and see…
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death-ofpeace-ofmind · 1 month ago
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Noah Sebastian (YOU!AU) x Reader: Chapter III
Trigger Warnings: Stalking, possessive obsession, emotional manipulation, explicit references to sex (non-graphic but disturbing context), toxic relationship dynamics, mental instability.
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Banner by: @xmads-omensx
Divider by: @silent-stories
Taglist: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lil-garbitch @blade-dressed-in-red @fadingintothegrey @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @heyyoplayer @klutzy-kay24 @chey-h @collidewiththesav @supersquirrel1996 @shayeanna-ashlie @xmads-omensx @miwomens @fallinoutoforbit @lacy1986 @pipidoll @ami--gami @astronoids @bloody-spades @renegadebirch @miwomens @dontwantthemoney @saythatuwill @runningincircl3s
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Chapter III: Behind Glass
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Noah’s POV
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There’s a bar off Sunset you love, the kind of place that doesn’t card too hard and plays shoegaze loud enough to drown out regret. You go there when you’re anxious, or when you feel too much. You don’t post about it often, but I’ve been watching. Waiting. Not in a creepy way, okay, maybe in a little bit of a creepy way, but you invited me in, Y/N.
You just didn’t know it.
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Our Third Meeting, Y/N.
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I time my arrival. Not too early. Not too desperate.
You’re already two drinks in when I see you. You’re standing by the jukebox, swaying slightly, eyes a little glassy. You look like a dream that’s had the color sucked out of it. There’s lipstick smudged on your glass and tension in your shoulders. I want to wrap you in something soft and never let you break again.
But you’re not alone.
Andy’s here.
Of course he is. Like a fucking bloodstain that won’t wash out.
He’s leaning against the bar with that smug, vacant expression, like he owns the room. Like he still owns you. He brushes your hair behind your ear with the familiarity of someone who’s ruined you before. You laugh, but it’s hollow, Y/N. I know the difference. I hear it in your voice.
I sit in the far corner, in the shadow where the neon signs flicker and die. I sip a warm whiskey and watch as his fingers graze your back, sliding lower than they should. You don’t stop him. Why don’t you stop him?
He whispers something in your ear, and you nod. Slow. Uncertain. But you go with him. You always do.
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You live four blocks away, but he takes you there in his piece-of-shit car like it’s some grand gesture. I follow on foot. Rain starts to spit on the sidewalk, painting everything with static. It doesn’t matter. I’ve followed you through worse.
I stop across the street from your apartment and tuck myself behind a fence of hedges. Your window lights up like a stage, curtain half-drawn. He never closes it fully. He doesn’t deserve your privacy.
And that’s when it starts.
You’re pressed against the wall, his mouth on your throat, his hands sliding up your shirt like he’s entitled to you. You don’t push him away. You’re not resisting. But you’re not present either.
You look like you’re watching yourself from somewhere else. Like your body’s going through the motions, but your soul is out in the street with me.
My hands curl into fists as I watch him take what isn’t his.
You gasp when he pushes you onto the couch. I close my eyes, but the sounds still come. Muffled moans, skin on skin, the creak of furniture and the ache of disappointment. You don’t sound satisfied. You sound like someone trying to remember how to feel.
I stare through the rain-specked glass as he finishes. Quick. Selfish.
He kisses your shoulder and turns away.
You sit up. Hug your knees. Your face is unreadable.
I know you’re wondering why it still feels so empty.
I know you think maybe something’s wrong with you.
But it’s not.
It’s him. It’s always been him.
He doesn’t see you, Y/N.
He doesn’t stay when the lights are off and the songs won’t come and your hands won’t stop shaking.
But I would.
I will.
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You fall asleep beside him, but I can tell you’re not really sleeping. You twitch. Toss. Pull the blanket tighter around your frame like it might protect you from something bigger than the cold.
I stay for hours. Until the light in your window dims. Until Andy stirs and rolls over, muttering something in his sleep. Until the street grows quiet enough to hear your breath through the glass.
You never close the curtain.
You never shut me out.
Not really.
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I walk home in the dark, soaked to the bone but burning from the inside. The rain can’t wash it away. The taste. The image of you beneath him, disconnected. Hollow.
It’s okay, Y/N.
He’s just a chapter. A mistake.
And we all make mistakes.
But I won’t let you keep making this one.
Not anymore.
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thesamoanqueen · 1 year ago
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Blackwater XX
Warnings/AN: I should apologize for the drama but its my trademark at this point, I'll just say that there's a flashback and a couple of references to previous chapters. As soon as possible I'll create a masterlist dedicated to the series, because I have contents that I want to add since we are at the end. Lemme know if someone wants a tag there too~
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Trouble ahead.
He showed up unexpectedly, grumbling about the mud that had gotten on his expensive shoes, the usual penguin-like gait and Jimmy rolled his eyes, waiting for him to finally reach them because they couldn't have continued at all if he was around. And it had nothing to do with a tactical move to hide plan from the enemy, it was simply impossible to ignore or avoid Paul Heyman and if once Jimmy would have laughed, now Paul was just annoying and the expression on Jey's face proved it.
- "Nice place, in your style" – he commented, without greeting or trying to pretend too much – "reminds me the days I used to come visit your dad, both of you were three, four maybe" – and Jimmy folded his arms.
Sure, their style wasn't their cousin's luxury stuff, the one Paul had accustomed him to. At that moment he was probably having breakfast in a restaurant downtown or a sauna to cool down his muscles, but he too had cut his teeth at the garage near Oak Wood Hills. Jimmy still remembered the afternoons spent there after school to see the red Jeep Cherokee that Roman had become obsessed with, he bought the damn car as soon as Uncle Sika came back from one of his trips and now instead he drove around in black businessman's SUVs and looking after the community with checks he couldn't spend on himself.
- "Did you get lost Og? Want me to call your daddy so he can pick you up?" – he asked and Paul must have had colic judging by his reaction.
- "No. Im here to talk."
- "Wow really?! Mind-blowing!"
The colic became a reproachful look at his sarcasm, but still Jimmy was not impressed and when Jey decided to come closer to support him, Paul wisely quit, once again showing off the best acting skills to save his ass.
- "Even though I remember what was said at the meeting, Im here with good intentions. Of course, it hurt me if I have to tell the truth, I don't understand where the aversion against me comes from... but despite this I couldn't refuse in my heart to help" – he began and Jimmy blinked confused.
- "Have you had a heart transplant?" – he urged, matching his attitude.
Paul didn't take that joke well either, but he had nothing to complain about, everyone knew how things were. The wiseman didn't help anyone if he didn't have something back, goodness was not among his qualities and it was impossible he had found some of it within himself now that he was personally involved. His feelings worked on command, according to occasion and business.
- "He thinks I'm dumb ass" – Jey said out of nowhere, staring at him.
He had crossed the edge since the boys' were dragged into the family mess and now his goal was just putting an end to it all. For him that war was an unbearable burden, Jimmy knew how he was, he knew Jey just wanted to start over, have some peace and he didn't like Paul's fake visit because it also added provocation to his worries. He would probably have put up with Roman, but not Paul, Paul wasn't family to him and those turns of phrase were making him nervous.
He heard the wiseman noises, trying to stay in control even though Jey's gaze didn’t help his attempts.
- "What? No, of course not, I’d never think bad about you! The Tribal Chief had chosen you as his right-hand man, a fool would not have had such an honor or right to speak in family business."
He thinks we're both dumb.
That stunt pushed Jimmy to clench his fists in annoyance, but didn't have time to silence Paul because his brother really didn't seem in the mood that day and had come forward again.
- "I had no right. He take all the decisions, with you, from day one."
He hadn't been around when that deal or alliance or whatever it was between him and Roman had come about, he'd been forced away from home for months, but Jey was there and kept him updated on everything. They had kept him on the sidelines of the family business from the beginning and the right-hand man title with their tricks had become a joke they made real when it suited them. Jey had taken it seriously despite everything, he had committed to the vision and tried, but it only make him run everywhere and get beaten. When Jimmy came back everything was already done and things had even gotten worse after.
- "Jey…" - he heard Paul negotiating trying to slow things down, realizing maybe that his sweet words were no longer having the planned effect - "when you're at the top you often find yourself in unpleasant situations, it's not for everyone, you're starting to understand it too how it is bearing the weight of that position. At the meeting you made some choices... let's say questionable ones... listening an advice would have been right for you if I may, to judge pros and cons. I'm here to offer you a second chance, I care about you even if you don’t care about the wiseman."
Jimmy hadn't expected his brother to discuss those terms in front of the elders, it had been strange and even he had been amazed, because Jey hadn't talked to him first about anything. But whatever plan he had if he had one, leaving a door open for Solo and even Y/N, Jey didn't need any second chances, especially not thanks to Paul. Jimmy was there to cover his back and it would always be like this, he didn't need counselors and dogs licking his feet to sleep better at night.
I can handle him.
His offer echoed through the link, but Jey didn't answer.
- "I know you're angry now and maybe it won't seem that way, but all this will help you, trust me it can be good for you, it's part of your journey to take the place of the Tribal Chief one day" – he persisted and Jimmy decided to step forward, ready to send him back to where he came from with good ass kick.
- "Imma take his place next week" – Jey stopped him, voice far too calm.
The day. It was just a week away. At the dawn after the harvest moon things would no longer be the same. Jimmy had been hoping for a change for years now, in the last few months he had chased it like a breath of air, now that was so close it was an almost surreal feeling, but Jey already seemed in control and ready.
- "It could happen... of course..." - Paul hesitated, avoiding answering to Jey push - "its essential, however, that the family is preserved and all of this, lemme tell you, is a dangerous gamble now. The elders have agreed to restore order, but we're all worried about what will happen next, them, me, your parents, even Y/N... poor girl, she can't rest knowing what’s going on and what could come" - he tried, pulling out an apologetic face that he could have avoid considering what relationship he had with Y/N.
- "None of them should be. The only one who needs to worry is you, because when I'm done, you'd better be far away. Bring back your advice, speeches and ass to my cousin, Og, don’t make say it twice" – Jey quickly silenced him though, stopping his tantrum by placing a hand on his shoulder.
Jimmy watched him stiffen as if someone had growled at him, face pale and shaken, his gaze going from Jey's fingers to eyes, which had been fixed on him from the moment he showed up. The realization of failure hit him right in front of them, a mixture of affront, anxiety and worry that Jimmy watched Paul shake off in the same way as Jey's hand, scrambling a few steps back to make room between them. He nodded to who knows who, body shaking as he sorted out his expensive clothes and pride.
The harvest moon was near, so their mother said. That year it was time to reap what they had sown.
***
Devil's Point, that's what the sign they passed on the way said and it really must have been one of devil’s tricks, because Y/N felt her stomach flipped. Or maybe wasn't the devil, maybe it was just another perfect date, pleasant anxiety, wine and fresh air caressing her warm face, sun slowly sinking beyond the strip of sand and trees, setting the sky on fire. Maybe the devil was Roman, with his gentleman manner, so confident, constantly eyeing her, always attentive, his low velvet voice. The bond had always been there, in her veins, in her bones. An invisible impulse born with them, as their lives went on and years passed, omnipresent, indissoluble, inevitable despite miles and obstacles. And more Y/N lingered in that trap easier it seemed to fall, normal deserving the life she hadn't had, a security she didn't know and now all around her, emanating from Roman.
Where has he been all this time? We were alone…
- "Have you ever looked for me?" – she asked out of nowhere, putting the dessert away.
A chocolate cake, because it was her favorite and he worked hard to please her, learning quickly and put into practice even the most insignificant details.
Roman looked surprised at the change of subject, putting down his glass.
- "Have you ever looked for me before that evening, when you found me at the camping?" – she asked again, feeling anxiety suddenly hit even though it had been her idea to investigate, happiness quickly dissolve into doubts.
Y/N didn't even know why she asked. It was an uncomfortable question, the search for a mate was a now past custom, too low probabilities and a world where alternatives had now become norm. It was stupid to expect something and unnecessarily provocative, what's more in their case, after all the first few months problems, it sounded a bit like an accusation or an attempt to ruin plans. Roman however didn't lose his composure and she saw him take a deep breath, brow furrowed as he remembered.
- "Years ago. When I finished college, did it for a while, then stopped."
- "Why?"
He looked at her in silence, but he didn't seem angry or bothered.
She needed to hear it, to know.
- "… had become frustrating. I needed to focus on what I could accomplish."
So real. So true.
Few could say they were lucky enough to find their other half. Rare cases, exceptions. Was it sad to meet someone, choose them and fit in? No, most people out there did it like that, she herself had witnessed it with her parents before the horror, but sometimes people couldn't even find someone, sometimes they were not chosen or stopped wanting each other and then yes, it became sad. For Y/N having someone in her life had never been an aspiration, a dream to cherish when night became too cold or silence too heavy. Getting attached was a risk, risks were dangerous and in her case, as an omega, alone and without a family or a community, it was better to avoid rather than defend. She had to be smart, loneliness had kept her alive, had kept her going, was the possibility of filling the void that scared Y/N. It scared her to get used to someone and lose everything again. She knew what Roman was talking about, a perpetual aftertaste on her lips when she moved away from a place and now she was founding out that she had never really been alone. She had always had a chance, someone waiting for her, ready to fill that void that for Y/N had become like an old illness she lived with.
Roman had been looking for her, among so many people, even if only for a while he really had and it was… so reassuring.
- "You didn't" – she heard him reflect, moving closer to put his jacket on her shoulders.
There was knowledge in his voice, a heavy bitterness, as if he didn't need to hear Y/N say it. She watched him take another sip of wine to warm himself or perhaps wash away the taste of that thought, enduring the cool evening for her.
- "I did it once… just once" – she admitted, surprising him and even herself.
She had never thought about that day before, but memory had hit her soon through her she-wolf, perhaps to console him. She didn’t like that look on his face, he was better all cocky and flirting.
- "I have been in foster care for couple of years after I lost my parents. I went from one house to another, it didn't work and I really didn't want to stay. There was a brunette white girl in one of the families, she didn't like me, talking behind my back all the time... I told her I’d find you and make her regret it" – she said, shaking her head at the thought of that childish menace.
Y/N didn't remember the reason for their fight, it could have been anything, she was an unbearable girl herself at the time, but she knew how she had felt. It was vivid in her memory. That sense of not belonging, absolute loneliness, anger, so much anger at the idea of being and being able to be just a stray in the future. The world is too big a place when life decides to give its worst lessons. Y/N had always grown up quickly, she had always learned running, what to be without roots, what to do if there is no one waiting.
- "We can pay her a visit" – Roman proposed casually and Y/N stared at him, because of all the things he could have said, she hadn't expected that.
No pitying comments, no words of comfort or judgement, just a blind complicit willingness to indulge her past madness.
- "Mmh I'm tempted" – she giggled softly.
- "What happened?" – heard him ask and pointed to her arm, where there was a scar similar to the one he had.
- "I stole her dad’s car and destroyed their fence" - she said, making him frown.
She had gotten into that pick-up without knowing how to drive or what to do, it didn’t end well, they caught her immediately and in hurry she had taken everything and everyone down. One of the poles around property had broken the pick-up window and the wire wrapped around it had threatened to blow her arm off, it was a miracle she hadn't fainted there. One of the biggest dumb act of her life and at the same time another lesson, proving Y/N she shouldn't be carried away by her omega impulses, it didn't bring anything good.
- "I stayed in town for a while I think, then left without looking back. I have no idea what happened to the pick-up or her. I didn't find you though... it was enough for me."
Admitting it, thinking about it, made her feel vulnerable. She didn't like that feeling. That attempt had been a failure from the start, chances of meeting him simply by walking a few miles, going to any city, any street, had been zero and even if he had been there, messed up as she was by pain, Y/N wouldn't even know she had found him. She had been stupid, irresponsible, mindless but realizing when it got dark she was still hopelessly alone had been worse.
She shrugged, picking up the dessert to distract and control herself.
It was over now.
- "We'll make things right, you have my word. It will be enough to be together, there's no need to think about it" – she heard Roman assure, once again without excuses or pity, firm in his intentions – "no more car rides though"– he added with a reproachful look that made her smile.
No, there was no need to think about the past. Everything had already changed and Y/N had learned her lesson, but maybe it was time to learn something else, trying not to run away this time. It seemed easy at the time and yes it really all came down to being enough for each other, filling the void with their bond.
For days Roman's routine had always been the same, calculated to the second, with no margin for error or change. He woke up before dawn, shower, breakfast and run, spend the morning in the gym, then lunch and gym again until dinner time, after which he lock himself in the office taking care of the documents Paul brought or business that required his supervision, and then join her in bed when it was already late night and repeat everything the next day. He was locked in a bubble, focused on a single goal, counting minutes, preparing in advance for whatever would or could happen. An absolute, maniacal dedication that Y/N somehow admired. It made her proud to see that he was capable of so much and yet it also made her sad.
Because in the wild run of that family war, she was just a spectator. She repeated to herself that she had to be patient, be understanding, that she had to put aside anxieties and bad moods to support him as better as she could, but it weighed on her. She did whatever not to show it, not to think about it, and despite her efforts Y/N felt everything around her emptying and cooling, her sacrifices devalued and even ignored. They almost didn’t speak to each other anymore and certainly not about what they should have because there was no time for doing it, they didn’t spend together and when that happened he was focused on something else, Y/N had the feeling of having gone back to the days when they were two strangers, two separate worlds united by a thin wire.
She didn't want that, they weren't like that, they had both worked hard to make things work, succeeding, they had truly found themselves at the end. The idea they were affecting their relationship, the possibility to distance themselves so bad to spend a life like that, wasn't something Y/N could bear. They had overcome differences, they shouldn't have burned everything because they didn't see things the same way in war where their relationship was not in play. They just had to meet once again and remember. He had taught her that and Y/N hadn't believed him for a long time, but they really needed their bond.
On the now empty table on the patio, she opened the floor plan of her old house, the one she had had to leave and Roman had given her back. It was nothing compared to what she had now, but it could become something, maybe just for them, a place where nothing and no one could disturb them.
***
Day after day his body pushed further and further, urged by pressure, focused on a single goal from which Roman couldn’t look away. He couldn't afford any mistakes with Jey, Roman knew he could beat him and he would, but his cousin knew him better than any other out there. They were certainly on two different levels, however Roman couldn't allow him to prove anything if he wanted to regain the absolute control that the elders had questioned due to too many mistakes in those months. And it was for these reasons that getting out of his head, stopping and having those breaks had become an annoying obligation that he fulfilled in the shortest time and avoiding any extra thoughts. Lose focus was a weakness, give ground an advantage, something he couldn't tolerate.
When he closed the door behind him, the house was silent as if he were the only one around. It had been like this for a long time, but time had passed. Now it wasn’t empty, Y/N was there and not finding her in the living room as had been the case for days forced him to follow her trail to the outside. He expected to find her busy, but not to see her with all those papers on the table.
Why is she looking at them? Why she got that floor plan again?! Stop her. Now.
- "What are you doing?" – he asked, voice heavy and she immediately raised her head with a weak smile, one that she could have addressed to anyone, not to him.
- "Nothing, I was waiting for you. Is it already time for your break?"
If it was an attempt to push away the conversation or pretend, it didn't work. He knew those documents, he had signed them and he had been clear telling her not to get any strange ideas about her family's old house, and yet she was there looking at them page by page at a moment like this.
- "I asked you what you think you are doing Y/N" – he repeated seriously, convincing her to put them down.
- "I was keeping myself busy while I waited for you to finish. I answered."
He saw Y/N keep her gaze on him, head held high, back straight, but Roman still sensed what was behind, tension, heavy air. It was since he said he would no longer have regrets that Roman had seen her react like this and in the last few days the atmosphere had gotten even worse. She didn't comment, didn't ask, she stopped trying to argue, she was good at not showing it, but his wolf could sense it when he lay down next to her at night, saw the way she looked at him. It wasn't a good idea for her to punish his cousins despite what they had done to him, she couldn't stand the prospect of a fight, she had promised to stand by his side no matter what and after a year she still rejected his mark when she shouldn't have even had to choose whether to have it or not, now she also took out the floor plan of her old house even though he had given her another one, one for them, better.
We told her not to act like this, she doesn't need that house. We did everything, we gave everything to her.
He had spent the last year dedicating himself to their bond, proving time and time again that he was worthy, that he would be a good mate for her, he was doing so even facing his own family. Shielding their future family even before their bloodline was born. Jey e Jimmy had ruined his plans, it wasn’t his fault, he was risking everything for what they would have built together, for their future. He had proven who he was, Y/N had to know, no one before him had ever achieved so much, no one would ever bear such a burden, there was no alpha out there on his level able to take care of her and anyone else. She couldn't think about them again, she couldn’t doubt, it was crazy!
- "What Im doing is to keep everything for us, protect what we have" – he explained to her for the umpteenth time, seeing Y/N stop that attempt of a smile understanding what direction their conversation was taking, as he approached the table.
He didn't like losing his temper with her, he didn't want to, but Y/N had a fastlane to pushing him in any situation and that was definitely the wrong one. Why she was throwing it in his face? At home, while he spent the days preparing to end the mess out there and start again together?!
- "You say it all the time, I know."
Her and her mouth…
- "Because that's the only thing that matters, not sitting here fantasizing about alternatives."
- "Ain't fantasizing about anything. You're so focused that we don't spend more than ten minutes together, I thought we could have a break for a bit, do something together when it's all over... but I guess it's a no if you react like that."
No, she couldn't blame him. This mess wasn't his fault, he was fixing it, it wasn't on him!
- "I don't have time to plan these things, not when I have all the work to do and problems keep piling up! I told you this too. You should have get it by now what has priority and instead we are here discussing because you keep putting these ideas in your head!"
- "My apologies, my Tribal Chief, is that good?" – he heard her reply, mocking him and he froze.
He looked at her angrily, as if they were back to the days when she couldn't stand him and he was always on the verge of exploding. He looked at her out of his mind, mouth twitching, but she wasn't even giving him attention, too busy keeping her eyes somewhere other than him, in an act of submission that was more a provocation than an apology. He ran a hand over his beard, clenching his jaw, but it was just too much and he lowered himself, leaning on the table to tower over her. Her scent, so familiar, usually so comforting, immediately filled his lungs, a regenerating peace that clashed with their fatigue and that Roman felt once more from Y/N, her body stiffening as soon as his breath hit her cheek.
He was the Tribal Chief and would remain so until God woke him up again. People out there could have planned trials, clashes, attacks, anything, nothing would have changed. But she was different, she was not one of those folks. Y/N might not have his mark, she might claim every freedom she wanted, Roman would put up with it to please her, to make her happy, because she deserved it, but still didn't change anything. They wouldn't go back to those hellish days where they were nothing.
- "I'm more than that to you" – he reminded, seeing her nod.
- "I know" – she replied immediately, finally turning around.
Her eyes, dark as the water of the river that ran through Roman’s land, almost seemed to suck him in. Two sharp chasms where he had looked for her for months, until found her huddled at the bottom waiting for him. Roman had dragged her out of there, he had given her everything, all of himself and he would do it again every day, without holding back or thinking about it and that was exactly why he was acting like that. If it wasn't for him, she would still be there, alone and with no future.
- "Make that stuff disappear before I do it" – he ordered, straightening up.
Y/N didn't move, her eyes still on him, as Roman decided he'd had enough of that pause, walking away. Her reaction reached him through the bond, when he crossed the threshold to go back inside: a mixture of anger, pain and sadness.
It hurts.
It hit him like a wave, alarming his wolf despite the fight, but it disappeared just as quickly, as if Y/N had wiped it away and Roman took a second to look at her through the windows, check, while she gathered everything on the table, head down and in silence.
He had to focus on what needed to be done. Distractions were just more problems.
We’re doing it for everyone. She will understand soon.
***
She had put everything back in his office, locking the desk drawer almost throwing away the key.
Why is he acting like this? What did we do wrong?
Her she-wolf felt confused, hurt and so was Y/N, with a good amount of anger on top of that. She was trying with all of herself, she was doing everything every day to make things work, to not disappoint him, to be up to the task, to not miss the opportunity for a good life. She had learned to ignore what didn't require a reaction, to be understanding when with anyone else would have freaked out, she was trying to be a better version of herself for her sake and for Roman. Was it such a bad idea? She knew Roman was fighting for their place, for his packland, but she hadn't suggested to leave everything and disappear, she would never have done it because she knew what it meant, she just thought they might have a safe space somewhere else... in a future less sad and complicated. That house was important to Y/N, she wanted to do her part, help, give back doing something like Roman had done with the house they lived in now, share.
It's already his though.
His property... that's why he snapped?
Roman had considered it a waste of time, a fantasy to be put away... after all, why he should pay attention to something no one wanted to take away at that moment? something far from his family war, from the packland. It already belonged to him, her she-wolf was right to justify him, Y/N had pushed him first, there was nothing to share or fix there and Jimmy's words came back to her mind. She had thought about doing something for them and instead she had really wasted time.
“The house… you bought it to give her nowhere to run away from you.”
It was a gift. For us.
Roman had said so and Y/N had felt so special. But it had his name on it, everything, every sheet of paper.
He wanted to make us happy. The best for us.
“I don't want you to go there, okay? This is your place now, it's your home and you have to stay here. But one day maybe we can fix it and go together.”
One day. Maybe…
Together.
Maybe? now the memory sounded like a dad tricking his daughter into not throwing a tantrum.
Smell of aftershave mixed with something familiar distracted Y/N, reminding her that she was still in the office and she turned to stare at the door just before seeing Paul arrive with a folder of documents in his arms.
- "Y/N! I thought you were out for one of your runs" – he said after a second too long, tone surprised and suspicious, as he looked at her standing there –"… you alright? "
No one was allowed to go upstairs unless it was necessary, but business those days seemed a matter of life and death, so it was hardly surprising. The last safe place for her would have been the bathroom.
- "You seem a bit…"
- "Take comments for yourself, there's no point in having a conversation" – she said, moving away from the desk with the intention of disappearing, but Paul wouldn't have been Paul if he hadn't decided to ruin her day already messed up.
- "Of course not, but I think you’ll want to know I went to talk with the twins. Didn’t go as hoped. Jey… he doesn't listen" – he admitted with disappointment, taking her place to add more documents to those already placed everywhere and Y/N finally recognized what that other scent on him was.
- "He doesn't like you, it was pretty obvious."
The idea of talking sense to Jey had been stupid. Maybe Jimmy could have been a possibility even if he was the one who started shit, he would have talked to a wall regardless of his sympathies, but Jey? No, Jey wasn't made for those things and both him and Y/N shared the same opinion of Paul. Sure he had had more time to learn to tolerate the so called wiseman, but Y/N had known from the very first moment he wouldn't accept any proposal Paul was going to make him.
- "You do though. He allowed Solo and you to stay if… well you know – he threw it there with such nonchalance, but she wasn't willing to tolerate, it was the wrong day – "he’s attached to you, he think about you as someone to protect."
What is he trying to say?!
- "What I know is that they shouldn't fight and that you Paul, said you would make sure to avoid it."
The brilliant idea of saving her during the meeting a few days before had taken Y/N by surprise too, there was no agreement or plan behind it, she didn't even know why at that moment, with everything that was happening, Jey had decided to expose himself for her. She was almost absolutely certain it wasn't something normal in situations like the one they were in, she was Roman's mate and Jey was threatening to take everything away from him after all, but whatever was the reason it didn't matter because it wasn't what they needed to focus on, especially not Paul.
- "I fear that stopping everything is no longer an option, we don’t have time, they have sworn in front of the family now. Neither of them can back out" – heard him say with a funeral face that didn’t inspire pity in her.
- "So that ridicolous meeting was the point of no return?!" – she snapped and he choked, hands reaching out in an attempt to stop her when Y/N nerves were undergoing yet another stress test.
She respected Roman's family, she respected their traditions, but it was unthinkable to Y/N that a handshake was an unbreakable pact, not when both sides were risking everything and whoever was supposed to advise them, stop them, watched or made things worse. She couldn't, it was something she couldn’t understand. They were a family, they had to act like a family, not fighting.
- "I wouldn't talk like that, let's try to breath now okay? Think about it. There are other ways to swing things in our favor, I'm already working on something. An idea in the right ears works wonders."
- "You're working on something" – she repeated, feeling blood go straight to her head.
Yep, sure, after all they had time to act with calm, there was a week to go and everything was already a disaster, but who cared? They could also sit, chat, think and judge who remained to be sacrificed so they could sip a drink under the patio when their bright future would be on hand.
- "I know, I understand your concern, but if you decided to be more cooperative it would help a lot and speed things up. The twins are stubborn, but Jey making all these decisions on his own could work to our advantage if we prove that he isn't capable of"- he tried, but it wasn't the right day for her to listen his sneaky little games.
- "I won't help you making anyone believe anything. You are the wiseman, be the wiseman, find a way, just do it" – she silenced him, leaving the office without waiting an answer.
She wanted that fight, everything to end once and for all, she wanted to go back to months ago when Y/N had thought she could have everything missing in her life, she wanted a family, Roman to annoy her with his daily nonsense instead of dramas to survive and manipulations on a daily basis. She was tired and for the first time since the beginning even if she tried hard… she couldn't see the end.
Breath. Calm down. Don’t lose control, we can’t allow it. Breath.
***
Right, left, right, left, right, left again. The punching bag was easy to predict every time Roman hit it, Jey wouldn't follow those times when they would have been face to face. At some point he would shift, it was the only way he had to really bring Roman down. As both man and wolf, Roman was bigger than his cousin, bruises and broken bones wouldn't keep him down once they were out there, Jey would have to do more and to do so he would have no choice. He was fast, he would aim for multiple points, targeting him, Roman only needed one, the right one, like with the punching bag.
When he hit it seriously, the chain holding it up gave way, sending it down and putting Roman face to face with Solo, standing silently there, even though he hadn't asked to see him.
- "What's up?" – he asked, catching his breath and kicking the punching bag away.
- "He was talking to Y/N upstairs" – Solo said, without mincing words and Roman stopped, staring at him, his sweaty brow furrowed in an attempt to understand.
Y/N couldn't stand the wiseman. She had never liked him, from the first day, it had taken months to convince her to not growl when he approached and now they were talking? Alone upstairs, while he was there training?
- "About what?" – Roman asked, but Solo shrugged his shoulders in a heavy silence Roman had to accept, hiding his annoyance with a grimace.
First in his land. Then in his family. Now in his house. No… not that time.
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