#“The Pause at the Summit”

[fortunaestalta]

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

GOD there's this sharp buzzing noise while Carson is speaking just before he lets Shrue in (somewhere around the 12 min mark?) And its driving me INSANE bc I know chances are it's an audio glitch but I am also INTIMATELY familiar with the use of audio to communicate things like god powers being in effect so I'm just sitting here like

[bookwyrminspiration]

dad just burst into my room, tears in his eyes, voice thick, to tell me "elliott ramirez is awesome" so I think his insignia read is going well

[pinkslaystation]

No longer a memory [Simon 'Ghost' Riley]

You are reading: [Part 2] Read [Part 1] here! Word Count: 1.4k You viewed Simon as your friend, but clearly he did feel the same.

When Ghost was asked about his emergency contact, he mentioned Soap's name.

"You can't put down another soldier, mate. Gotta be yer ma or summit." His higher-ups informed him.

"Why no'?" He grumbled, leaning against the wall in the dingy office.

"Wot if you're on a mission with 'im? Wot if he's injured too? Hm? Just do me a favour and put down yer missus, will ya."

Ghost rolled his eyes in annoyance, slamming the door shut as he walked out. With an important mission coming soon, it was vital that everything was in order before they left.

He just doesn't get it. Why does a skilled killer like him need an emergency contact? He's only been fatally injured once, and when they contacted his previous emergency number back then, was it really a big deal with someone at the nearest Maccies picked up?

Gaz frequently laughs at him, "Tried to call your mother, ordered a quarter pounder instead." It's a running joke in the team.

Ghost skims through his phone contacts, and he's embarrassed to see how few numbers he has: 5 being his teammates including Gaz, Soap and Price, one being KFC, one being his mother which he had saved under Slag. He scrolls up and down rapidly, debating to himself, should he just give them a fake number?

No...they'd find out again.

He clicks under the spam numbers.

His eyes shift to a familiar number.

It was yours.

The monotonous ticking of the clock paired with the irregular typing of the keyboards were burnt into your brain unknowingly. You've lost count of the number of days you've been in the menial job now, your first job since graduating university. How long have you been with that company, 2 years? 602 days now? You're counting the days 'til the weekend but even during that, you've got no one to come home to.

What a pathetic life.

Sometimes you wonder what Simon was doing in that exact moment was he working like you? Was he also in London? Did he...think of you, the way you think of him? It's possible he's forgotten, I mean after 5 years you've lost contact with the majority of your classmates- so much for best friends for life.

You check your phone, 9:28 P.M. 2 more minutes and you're running out of there.

By the time it hits 11 P.M., you're tucked away in bed a movie playing the background as you're aimlessly listening to reddit stories on TikTok whilst watching a minecraft speedrun.

You switch to using Instagram, by that I mean stalking. Your friends seems to be growth further away from you, one sending you an e-invite to their wedding, one welcoming their 1st child into their families, and yet you're still hung over about the last day of secondary school. The way the last time you had seen him had been in form, when he glances at you walking in late. The way his hands would purposely linger against yours when you were asked to hand out sheets to the class.

The mere thought of him jolted you. That, and the sound of your phone ringing.

It was an unknown number.

There's a hitch in your breathing. Was this a sign? What's the phrase, speak of the devil and he has appear? Was it perhaps...Simon?

You wait for a minute before picking up, not wanting to come across as desperate.

"...Hello?" You murmur.

"Hey." The voice is harsh and cold. It reminded you of Simon.

"Simon?" You whisper, a smile appearing on your face.

There's a pause on the other end of the line.

"What? No- Alan. From Accounting. You left some documents here at work, they seem important. You gonna pick 'em up?"

You blink. Once again your're stuck in another fantasy. In what world would it be Simon? The man who couldn't even reply to your texts in summer holidays. The man who wouldn't even attempt to return a full smile when you locked eyes in the corridor. The man you shouldn't have feelings for. Because, well, it's not like they were ever reciprocated.

What a pathetic life.

Alan, the dickhead from Accounting interrupts yet again. "Yo, you there? Wan' me to bin them?"

You sit up in your bed, sighing deeply uncomfortable, "Pull up your pants man, I'll be there in 30, Jesus. Just leave them on my desk."

Question. What's short but intense, most people dislike it, but you find it thrilling? One would think a conversation with Simon. But the answer is: London traffic.

You'd assume the usually busy roads to be dead and empty at 11:30 P.M. ish, but you're heavily mistaken, my friend. Seems like London nights are the life of the party. Driving past busy clubs and lit up pubs, whilst listening to One Of The Girls by The Weeknd [SUCH A GOOD SONG-] made you feel like a movie star in a coming of age film.

One where the guy gets the girl.

Of course, the majority of the drive you've being beeped at, or you're doing the beeping, but it's what really appealed to you when making the move to the heart of London. Life moves on whether you want or not, might at well be at the capital of England. Though sometimes you feel you're more likely to run into Simon in the north...

By the time you reach the entrance of your workplace, you begin regretting your outfit decisions, making eye contact with yourself in the reflection of the glass doors: A black hoodie and flared joggers. Nothing wrong in the clothing of course, but compared to the Data Analysts and Investment Bankers that are judging you right now, it makes you feel like the smallest person in the room.

Just a elevator ride up, grabbing your shit, another ride down, brisk walking to the car, and you can go back to the comfort of your bed. Easy, no?

You're in the elevator finally. The weird look from the receptionist really was the cherry on the cake.

Soon enough, the doors open again at the 9th floor, and you're met with the dark room of your department, which only had 2 of your colleagues slaving away at their desks, one which you're 99% sure is rotting away as they type on their keyboard.

You briefly nod at the two as they look up from the elevator doors opening, to which they returned.

Where's that file, where's the fucking file. You mumble to yourself, sifting through all the papers from your desk. The rotting lady looks up to you, shushing you for the noise.

Yeah, if only you had the courage to shush your toxic-ass husband...You think. Soon we'll hear your reddit story next to some trashy ass run on Subway Surfers on Tiktok...

The way down the elevator was excruciatingly slow, which was odd considering it was working perfectly fine 5 minutes ago.

The doors open again, at the 8th floor and 3 analysts walk into the once quiet elevator, and now you're face to face with the loud chatter of clients, and business meetings and...who left a mess in the men's toilets...

A phone rings again, and the analysts all search their coats, thinking it was theirs.

Not me.

Neither.

How is there service in this elavator-

Someone coughs, and you open your eyes from drowsiness, the 3 business musketeers silently urging you to pick up your from and rid them off that irritating ring tone.

Silently apologising, you bring your phone out of your hoodie pocket. It's another unknown number.

With no hesitation this time, just pure frustration and fatigue, you pick up the call, "Alan, I swear to God, if you're calling me again-"

Correction. There is service in the elevator. It just wasn't good.

The line breaks at the other person on the phone speaks.

"He- Co- It's an emergen- He- -mon Ril- -jury-"

"Huh?" You respond, partially not hearing as the line breaks every now and then. but also because the other 3 people decided it was okay to talk on full volume.

You try once again, "I'm sorry I can't hear you."

"Missi- crash- 3 dead- -husba"

You snort, you wish these 3 analysts were dead right now-

"-Rile- Come- t- -ocation- sen- -by text- -sband-"

The line goes dead, and you're stuck staring at your phone with more confusion than you had started. Husband?

What was that? Wrong number? No, they had addressed you by your full name. You couldn't hear much, but from what you gathered...an emergency? I mean, that alone you could tell from the shrill from the speaker's voice.

The elevator door opens again and this time, it's the ground floor and all 4 of you walk out. It looks like the scene where the rich, popular characters make a grand entrance, straight out of a K-drama, except one person clearly missed the memo about dressing formally.

You check your phone's call log, debating whether to call them back.

Before you can lock your phone and shove it back into your phone, it dings again, a text from the very number. They've given you a location. A quick search on your phone, shows you google images of an army training ground. You check the time. It's just past midnight.

Looks like you're going on an adventure.

The drive to the army grounds was shorter than Google Maps had said, and now you're parked on the side of the roads waiting for the gates to be opened.

Theories are racing through your head right now, who do you know that's in the military currently?

Your coworkers? No.

Your university friends? No.

Your secondary school classmates? No.

Simon? Can't be.

The gates open, and you drive to the 2 men standing by the doors to the building, one is dressed like a doctor, the other? Like Stalin.

You get out of your car worried, "Hi, someone called over the phone?"

"Aah, yes. Mrs Riley. A pleasure to meet you. I mean I didn't think you were even going to come." He turns to the doctor.

You don't fail to hear the words exchanged between the both of them.

"What if she works at Maccies as well...she's dressed like it-" he murmurs, smiling at you widely.

The doctor on the other hand, seems to be more tense about the situation, "Sir, can we just send her in already, it's 1 A.M., I got a family to go home to-"

"Wasn't your wife cheating on you though-"

"Sir- How do you know- Okay, Miss. Mrs... Riley, was it?" The doctor turns to you.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "No. Um, no. My first name's not Riley, it's-"

"Will you just follow us. Please."

The inside of the building was almost the opposite than the outside, a loud brightly lit environment with crowds of doctors and nurses rushing around, compared to the silent dark grounds.

"Sorry, where are we going exactly?" You question, as the two men walk in front of you.

"You're handling the news better than I expected, Riley." The military leader (?) notes.

What news?

"What news?"

There's no follow up answer, instead they lead you to a quiet corridor, just outside a room, to which they gesture you to open. The doctor reads from a file, "He's going to be fine, just a few cuts and bruises-"

You interrupt, "I'm sorry?"

"What he's trying to say- we found him unconscious, seems like he inhaled too much of the gas. Thought he was in grave danger. Wasn't responding to anything. Broken rib cage, but he'll be fine. He always is, this man."

The doctor agrees with the solider.

"Indeed, a few months of bed rest, and he's be back in better shape."

The two stare at you, as you look at them with an unreadable expression.

"...And...I'm here because?"

They share a confused look.

"You're his wife, no? His emergency contact? That's what Simon said at le-"

"Si-Si-Simon?"

One second you're at home, the next you're a work again, and now you're in the bathroom with your head in your hands, sitting on the toilet lid, panic pulsating through your blood. For some reason, you can't find it in yourself to tell the truth, that you're not Simon's wife, so instead you pussied out and excused yourself to the nearest bathroom.

The good thing is, the 2 men believe you're crying over Simon's injuries, the bad thing is that he's awake. And he's been made aware of the call to his emergency contact: his wife.

"Good to say you mate. Called your wife. Sensitive one, that. Rushed-"

Simon breaks out of his dazed look. "Wife?" He barks.

The doctor shares a knowingly glance to the solider, Simon's higher up. "Yes...the one under your emergency contact?"

"Wot- Oh. Er- Yeah." Simon clenches his jaw, rubbing his temple, "Did she pick up or sum-"

"No Simon, she's here. In the bathroom."

The minimal colour in Simon's pale bruised face drains out in a click, and he's staring dead straight in front of him. For a second, no one talks, there's no movement, not even a breath is exhaled. Simon's not religious but he prays the 2 can't hear his beating heart thumping rapidly.

How was do when he sees you? A smile? A wave? A 'haven't seen you in so long'? No...he selected spouse when he put your number down for his emergency contact, if anything, he's got a role to act in front of the staff and higher-ups.

There's a knock on the door that breaks the silence. The door creaks open awkwardly, and a small head peeps out.

Simon's breath hitches.

When your parents instructed you to get out fairy land, you did. You were called delusion by your friends throughout adolescence, and you're teachers feared your expectations in life were always too high.

You remember the first time your parents told you the story of how they met. In your mind it was a romantic story, two doctors meeting together for the first time in the hospital, locking eyes and blushing furiously when their fingers touched through gloved during a high-risk heart transplant surgery. So when they mentioned that it was mere 'marriage of convenience' type relationship to you, your belief of love at first sight hit the iceberg of reality and sunk. Sunk deep.

So mustering the courage shouldn't be that difficult, right? Love doesn't exist...

The first step into the hospital room felt like walking into every exam hall you've ever entered in your entire life merged into 1...times 10. Nerve-wracking was an understatement.

Your goal was to just lie and act at his wife, play pretend and hope Simon plays along with it. It's all acting.

A marriage of convenience, you could say.

"Hey, Si-"

Your breath breaks, cutting off your own words as your eyes lock with Simon's. The room seems to shrink, and the bustling noise from the hospital corridor fades into the background. Simon's gaze is intense, his usual stoic expression softening for a brief moment. It's something the doctor and the soldier haven't seen, given the 5 years of knowing SImon.

He reaches an arm out, without speaking a word.

"Oh, erm." Taking his hand, he gently drags you, motioning you to sit on the chair beside his bed. Small electric shocks course through his fingertips and into yours, a warm feeling bubbling through your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way his eyes lock onto you, as his fingers gently caress your hand.

Simon’s grip tightens ever so slightly as you sit down, his touch simultaneously reassuring and questioning. You swallow hard, nerves prickling your skin. It feels like a minute has passes by the 2 spectators in the room feel like their watching a slow-burn romance movie.

The soldier clears his throat, breaking the silence. "We’ll give you two some privacy," he says, gesturing for the doctor to follow him out. As the door clicks shut behind them, the heavy silence continues to fall over the room.

Simon’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, a gesture that feels both foreign and familiar. His mask of stoicism cracks, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath. "I didn’t think you’d come," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. Your heart rate increases with every word he speaks, the hints of his northern accent peaking through the harshness of his voice.

You smile. "Well, here I am," you reply, attempting to sound casual despite the thundering of your heart. "Guess I couldn't ignore the call of duty." Your attempt of a pathetic joke makes him grin.

Simon interlocks his fingers with yours, and you swear your body changes to manual breathing. "SImon...You don't have to act, they're not here..." You mumble.

Simon chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His eyes, usually so guarded, now seem to search yours for something unspoken. "I'm not acting... and...I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What for?" Both of your hands gently hold Simon's and you notice the way just one of his hands dwarf both of yours.

"That day...the last day. I tried to come, I swear, love. I was late-"

"I waited for you Simon." You blankly state. Simon freezes at the slight frustration in your voice, "I waited so long for you, hell, the teachers nearly kicked me out."

Simon nodding understandably, grinning slightly at the thought.

"I know. I asked our form tutor, missed ya by 15 minut-"

"Then why didn't you call me Simon? Hm?"

The lack of response let's you continue, the heat from your hands warming Simon's.

"I called you, I texted, I reached out to your friends-"

"-but it's difficult when I had none, right?" Simon cuts you off, his eyes urging you to look at the situation from his perspective, "The moment I saw you in that classroom on that first day, you were the only person that smiled at me. When I forgot my lunch, it was you that shared with me by your desks. Fuck, it's always been you, and I was too fucking embarrassed with myself to even be around someone as perfect as you."

Simon squeezes your hand as he continues.

"I didn't want you to be seen with me, because...you deserved better, love. You've always had. Good grades, good school, good life, didn't was you to be dragged down by a dick like me." He huffs out, turning away, "Signed up for the military that day, y'know. Remember when you said you wanted to just give up on your dreams of uni and jus' join the army. Just use all your frustrations on a gun or sumthing... I bulked up over that very summer."

You stifle a warm tear as it escapes and runs down your cheek.

"Wanted to be someone for you, swear down. So I signed up for the military...and I- that day. I was going to tell you...and ask you out."

Raising your eyebrows, you feel the atmosphere shifting, he continues.

"Yeah," Simon chuckles, reminiscing, "Wrote a letter cos I didn' know how to get my feelins across. But uh, I was too late. And when I asked your friend, and they told me you were moving out for uni...I just thought it was better to let my feelins die out. Didn't wan to drag you down any further..." He mumbles the last part.

A mix of emotions flood through you as Simon's words settle in the room. The weight of the years apart, the misunderstandings, and the unspoken feelings hang in the air. You take a deep breath, wiping away the tear that escaped earlier.

"Simon," you begin softly, your voice trembling with a blend of sadness and hope. "You never dragged me down. If anything, I felt lost without you."

Simon's gaze shifts back to you, eyes searching for any hint of resentment or anger. Instead, he finds warmth and understanding, a look he's not seen in years. "I thought you'd be better off without me. That you'd move on and find someone who could give you everything I couldn't."

"But I never wanted someone else," you confess, your voice firm despite the quiver in your heart. "I wanted you, Simon. Even when you weren't there, I kept hoping you'd come back. Do you know how many times I've looked at my phone hoping it was you that was calling me?"

Simon laughs, moving ever so slightly closer to you, his thumb continuing to stroke your hand, his touch grounding you both in the present moment. He takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts.

"I'm here now," he says finally, his voice steady. "And I'll call you ever chance I get. Don't want to waste any more time."

You squeeze his hand in response, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Neither do I."

Simon presses a chaste kiss against your forehead and you lean against him.

"The name Riley really does suit you, y'know." Simon whispering into your hair.

"One step at a time, Si." You whisper back, burying your smirk into the crook of his neck.

Maybe your parents were wrong, maybe love at first sight does exist.

Outside the room, the 2 men straight in awe at the couple. The doctor sighs, "No more trouble in paradis-"

The solider nudges the doctor, "You wish that was you, huh."

me rn

tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply-blog, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife, @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @chessecakelover, @owkittie, @cheomain, @corvusmorte, @k4es, @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese, @yyiikes, @funkyysho3es, @delta98-idk, @spankmydepression, @yourfavbabigirl

[quinnred]

Tilshek: God of the Ugly Rage, WindRammer, He-Who-Drums-The-Summit.

Tilshek is the embodiment of warm storms, tantrum, frenzy, spasm, drunken fury, and unjust punishment. He is represented by the Urchin and Cactus in the South and by the Porcupine and Thistle in the North. Berserking warriors may don quills to evoke Tilshek in their rages, while others may wear a flower of a thistle or cactus to evoke his merciful servant, Mahtaa.

Tilshek was born from the abuse of two Feather Gods within the halls of The Sun. He emerged stillborn, fused with the bestial Jak that all Feathers Gods are pregnant with, and was denied feathers by his reckless parents. The babe was tossed from the sky and quickly forgotten upon the land. No god dare claim parentage as even they know shame.

Abandoned and with no guidance, the naked and pained god became a wild storm of knuckle and claw, scarring the land and terrorising all that lived on it. Only one, a young Manava named Mahtaa, would recognize this mindless wreaking as the divine bawl of a newborn god and calm it with soft word and tenderness and succour. The beaked giant would ever seethe, but placation allowed Mahtaa to guide Tilshek to the home of the Shell Gods, The Mesa.

The Shell Gods were impressed with the mad orphan’s strength and the wisdom of his guardian, asking what drove the new god to such a rage. He cawed to them that he was born of poor love and left naked and wronged, wishing that he could return to his home if only to pluck and maul his kin until The Sun hung red. The chief of the Shell Gods, mighty Zridtara, was greatly amused and sympathetic to Tilshek’s rage against their rival pantheon, welcoming him into his Mesa home as an honorary Shell God. Being too rowdy to live within it’s halls, Tilshek was appeased by sitting atop The Mesa, tended to by often smashed Godler servants and the soothing Mahtaa as he stared at the ever enraging Sun.

While the Godlers would serve their master divine boozes and sacrifices (and suffer pummeling due to minor grievances), Mahtaa’s role was to herd the ram skulled god away from fool furies. He became most needed whenever Tilshek was sent on an “errand” by his new kin, a distraction so the Shell and Feather god pantheons could visit and negotiate without conflict. As Tilshek would rampage across the mortal lands, Mahtaa would outwit his master and aim his rages away from innocent mortals, earning him the title “Storm-Guide”.

One day the tantrummer had been told of a piece of the moon that held Jak yolk, as it was the egg that The Mountain and The Sky conceived the Jaks from, and that it may yield him god feather. Mahtaa did not take this seriously, seeing it as yet another teasing of his master, yet Tilshek was ecstatic that his solar massacre dreams may yet be fulfilled. As they travelled Mahtaa would ponder that, if the moon yolk was real, should his idiot charge receive such a boon, even if it was his birthright as Feather God and as a Half-Jak? Surely he would not only kill his sun kin but also be slain himself in such a mad fervour?

And so Mahtaa would deny Tilshek his prize upon it’s discovery, allowing it to be taken and hidden by Godlers of the Feather Gods. In confusion, the normally unhesitating Tilshek paused for once in his life before striking down an offender. In those moments Mahtaa stood strong and loving, even as his god sprouted a pair of arms to strangle him with. But rather than suffocate, his head bloomed into a kind flower, his godhood blossoming into a champion of mercy due to his many good deeds. From then on Tilshek would ever carry the flower faced god as punishment for his betrayal, and in part as a comfort, like a child may clutch their blanket.

This arrangement would only end upon the coming of the Deiomachy, when peace between gods eroded and fate grew hungry for war. Tilshek silently granted his one and only mercy, releasing his beloved and loyal prisoner so as to spare him from the doom-drum of divine combat.

The Mesa would be capped by a false peak as Tilshek flung himself with a rising storm towards his twin-by-fate: Shrileket the Sun-Dropper. Their clash would announce war between the Feather and Shell, booming as only gods could for days until they fell upon each other’s impalements.

[wilwheaton]

He also bragged that he was way ahead of Obama in polling for the upcoming election.During his speech at the Family Research Council’s Pray Vote Stand Summit in Washington, D.C., Trump boasted that, despite his arrest, he's "leading by a lot, including Obama." He then attempted to cover his stumble by coming close to suggesting that he ran against Obama in the 2016 election, pausing for a moment before eventually recalling that he ran against Hillary Clinton.

[illyrianbitch]

One Summer — Part Six

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: drug usage/mentions as usual, alcohol, mor/feyre/reader being fashion icons, reader & az being 'just friends', drunk girl bonding, reader being a sentimentalist and loving her friends

Word Count: 5.4k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was a cramp in your stomach from laughing so hard— a pain made worse by the fact that Mor’s roughly concocted mimosas fueled the hilarity of every comment. She and Feyre were in stitches beside you, their snickers echoing off the walls as you all made your way down the stairs. It had taken a while, but you were finally ready to head out for the last day of Summit. The boys had been waiting with increasing impatience.

As you rounded the corner into the kitchen, Cassian looked up with a start, his hand paused mid-air, spoon halfway to his mouth. He choked as he took in the sight before him, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“What the hell do those say?” Cassian coughed, pressing his hand over his mouth as he swallowed hard. He stood up from his seat, and you bit back a laugh.

You three had been adamant about making your last day truly memorable. Somehow that had turned into throwing out any pretenses of looking cute or trendy. Instead, you three wanted something more sophisticated, outfits that showed your maturity. You’d each chosen special shirts for one another. 

Yours was a white tee with bold, unapologetic text: “I made your dad a bottom.” Mor’s shirt was a masterpiece of absurdity. She’d cut it into a sleeveless, oversized fit that hung off her frame with casual abandon. The front featured a stock photo of a muscular, awkwardly posed werewolf figure with the caption “Human by chance, alpha by choice” scrawled underneath in an ill-advised font. Feyre’s was also a true work of art. She'd played pretend offend for all of three seconds when she'd first seen it, giggling about how true it was. Her shirt boasted a crudely drawn frog holding a paintbrush, paired with the words “Dyslexic with tig bits.”

You exchanged grins with your best friends. 

"Aren't you gonna tell us how good we look?" Mor asked, placing a hand on her hip. She gave him a look of impatience, as if the time running by without her compliment was getting on her nerves. 

"I-" Cassian ran a hand across his mouth, tracing his mustache with extra care once he noticed her budding scowl. "Rhys! Az!"

The two boys emerged almost instantly, their mouths falling open in amusement as their eyes scanned the shirts. Rhys was the first to react, his face lighting up with a wide grin as he let out a low whistle.

“Pretty privilege lets you guys get away with way too many things,” he mused, his attention fixed entirely on Feyre as he approached her. He gently took her hand, guiding her into a dainty twirl to showcase her outfit.

Your gaze shifted to Az, who leaned casually against the wall, amusement dancing in his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. Mimicking his pose, you crossed your arms defensively. He shook his head, pushing off the wall and strolling towards you.

“Well, don’t cover up the art like that,” he said, glancing at your crossed arms. “I was enjoying it.”

You blushed, letting out a snort as you dropped your arms, gesturing dramatically to the shirt. Az’s eyes glimmered as he reached forward, his fingers lightly brushing the edges of the fabric. “Why this one?”

“Mor chose it for me,” you replied, your breath catching slightly. Azriel nodded in approval.

“Fitting.”

Cassian, now fully recovered, let out a hearty laugh. “Well, I’m feeling left out. You all look—” he paused for dramatic effect, “—exceptionally unique.”

“Good answer,” Mor said with a satisfied nod. She wrapped an arm around you, pulling you along with her as she walked towards the kitchen. “And isn’t the idea of dommy Y/N so hot?”

You groaned, your face flushing red as she giggled beside you. For the tenth time that morning, you begged her to stop using such a strange title. Her laughter only grew louder.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The merch line was long, but you didn’t mind waiting; the day was cooler, the sun less blistering than it had been, and the thought of having a physical memento from the weekend was comforting. Az had volunteered to keep you company while the others leisurely watched a smaller set on the schedule. There was an ease to this moment, the kind that settled in when time stretched out.

Azriel turned his head to look at you. His eyes scanned your figure and a second later he was shaking his head, looking away as a laugh left his lips. Your heart skipped a beat. Az’s laugh was something you coveted, a sound you’d become addicted to over time.

You waited until his eyes reached yours again to raise your eyebrow. "What?"

"That fuckin' shirt," Az replied. "I just can't get over it."

You grinned, nudging him with your shoulder as the line moved forward. "Don't judge. It's been a chick and dick magnet."

It was true. You'd gotten more compliments on your shirt than you'd ever received in your entire life— at least, drunk you seemed to think so. God, you needed to wear this outfit more often.

Azriel shook his head again, offering up his hands in surrender. "No judgment here," he said. He scanned you again, eyes glowing with a sense of contemplation. He pulled his cap off his head and placed it on yours. You tracked his movements with your eyes, watching as he took a step backwards and admired you as if he'd just created a masterpiece.

"Perfect."

It was an effort not to beam at the word alone, at how it seemed to anchor itself in your chest, resonating with a deeper meaning you were too embarrassed to fully acknowledge. You cleared your throat, ignoring the warmth that rolled through your body, surely collecting on your reddening cheeks. You placed your hands on your hips. 

"I look good?"

Azriel let out a small hiccup, a smile spreading across his face. "Oh yeah," he said, reclaiming his spot next to you in a few, easy strides. "You look like every dude in Rhys's frat."

Your smile fell. You attempted to give him a glare, to scowl, but Azriel's proud grin pulled a laugh from deep in your chest. "You said it looked good."

Az's smile curved, deepening into the crevasses of his cheeks. "And I meant it, you look great. Stunning."

There it was, that feeling again— that giddiness that left you fumbling for words. Something warm and silly spread throughout your chest. For a moment, you struggled to respond, fumbling through your mind to put together a coherent sentence. It was proving hard, so incredibly hard, when Az was looking at you the way he was.

"I didn't know frat boys were your type."

Azriel shrugged. "I didn't either. Guess we're both learning new things."

You playfully smacked him with your hand and reached up to remove his cap from your head. He shook his head, taking it back to adjust the band with nimble fingers. You watched him, noting the slight tremble as he refitted it to your head.

“You keep this,” Azriel said, securing it on you again. “It looks better on you anyway.”

You swallowed, fingertips brushing the brim. “Careful, Az. It might sound like you’re flirting with me or something.”

Azriel stared at you for a moment. His gaze was steady, searching. Do friends look at friends this way? Was it wrong to crave his gaze so deeply?

"What can I say," Az finally replied. The line moved forward. "I guess I just can't resist the pull of a frat guy."

Azriel brushed his palmalong the small of your back to guide you forward. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he removed his hand.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You weren't sure how much time had passed since Az left to go put all of the merch in the car. His instructions to you had been clear: stay in the same area so he could find you when he came back in. When he'd left, there was still around an hour until you'd meet back up with Mor, Feyre, Cass and Rhys. 

But Azriel's instructions left your mind the minute he was out of view. You'd reached that perfect point of being slightly crossed—mostly drunk, but not dangerously so— and everything felt vibrant. Alive. It made no sense to stand still or sit in a patch of grass and wait for Az to return like a sad codependent dog and its owner. No, that wouldn't do.

So you wandered, finding yourself by the food trucks, a new fruity drink in your hand. Non-alcoholic and entirely too expensive for its small size, but money didn't seem real to you. There was a large smile on your face as you weaved through the small crowds. You'd made around six new friends, random people you began talking to in line, those equally as drunk who voiced their love for your outfit. 

You barely registered when you bumped into a girl, the drink in your hand sloshing a bit. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” A soft voice exclaimed. You brought your attention to her face, taking in her long brown hair as she wiped a drop from her shirt. You were about to apologize then too, but then her eyes met yours. Something sparked in them. They widened, the brown glowing almost, and she beamed. 

“I know you!”

You stilled. “You do?” There was something familiar about her but you couldn’t quite place it. The smile especially. Something warm and friendly. 

“Yes!” she nodded eagerly. She grabbed the arm of a person next to her, pulling them into the conversation. Deep blue eyes and sandy brown hair. 

“Babe," the girl said, "This is the girl from yesterday!"

A look of realization formed on her partner's face. She turned to you again. "I was just telling them earlier about you. I took your picture yesterday."

They nodded, a small chuckle leaving their lips as they took a sip of their shared drink. "She was," they said, "The pretty girl with the boyfriend who had a sick wing tattoo.”

You blinked. Maybe you were feeling a bit slow today, a bit lethargic, or maybe you were a bit too gone to carry such a fast conversation. You let their words sink in, allowing your face to blossom into a smile. You recognized her face now, remembering the sweet approach she'd had to you and Az. The picture you now cherished so deeply. Your cheeks warmed. 

 “Oh, uh. He's not my boyfriend.”

The girl stilled. A sense of surprise flickered across her face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly, “just friends.”

She exchanged a look with her partner, a silent conversation passing between them, and then turned back to you with an intrigued expression, eyes slightly narrowed, lips still curved at the edges. 

"Really?" She repeated, as if her question would pull a different answer, one that may have satisfied her more. 

You gave a sheepish smile, shrugging your shoulders. You suddenly felt entirely too vulnerable, embarrassed in a way you hadn't felt since you were a child in kindergarten. She exchanged another look with her partner. 

“Does he know that?” They said. 

You shifted awkwardly, the heat rising in your cheeks. “Yeah, I mean, it's kinda weird, though. I don't know...” You trailed off, feeling the words slipping away from you. It was hard to articulate when your mind was so pleasantly hazy. You hesitated, then added with a chuckle, “It’s a long story.”

They both nodded. The girl looked at her partner before turning back to you. She grinned and shrugged, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Well, if you have the time, so do we.”

You furrowed your brows. She leaned in closer, like a best friend about to share a secret, and whispered conspiratorially, “I love a good storytime.”

And so, you found yourself sitting on a patch of grass, with Victoria and Jamie, as you learned their names to be, a band playing distantly on the stage nearby. The entire history spilled from your lips like uncontrollable bile, as if you were drafting a biography and starting it from the moment you met Feyre—because that’s when it truly all started. Almost four years ago, you realized.

You talked about freshman year, about your introductory philosophy class, your friendship with Az that blossomed into this deep, heavy crush. You told them about that almost-kiss, the one that lingered in your memory like a bittersweet stain, and even about your relationship with Eris. 

Victoria's drink was empty by the time you’d finished and the sun had dipped ever-so-slightly in the sky, now painting the festival in golden hues. 

 “Wow,” Victoria said, exchanging a meaningful look with Jamie before turning back to you.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment. “I talked too much, didn't I?"  

“Not at all! That was incredibly entertaining. Felt like the plot to some kind of romcom,” she said, laughing lightly. Jamie nodded in agreement. You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“So… what’s holding you back?” Victoria asked, tilting her head slightly as she studied your face. You opened your mouth to respond, but she quickly interjected, “And do not say it’s because you’re not sure he feels the same. You’re wearing his hat.”

You offered a sheepish smile, bringing your fingers up to trace the brim of Azriel’s cap, still securely placed on your head. You’d almost forgotten he’d put it there. It made sense now, why your face didn’t feel as burnt as usual. It also felt silly to admit that it was a worry of yours--- that maybe Az didn't see anything romantic with you the way he once did, that maybe these small moments were doused in a platonic love, like that from Cass and Rhys, and you had deluded yourself into thinking too deeply about them. 

You shrugged, a small, helpless gesture. “It’s more complicated than that,” you mumbled, but your words felt hollow even to your own ears.

Jamie leaned forward, their gaze sharp and inquisitive. You resisted the urge to draw back at the eye contact, at how their blue eyes seemed to be reading you. They casted a glance at Victoria.

“Is it because of your ex-boyfriend?"

"What?" You frowned, letting your shoulders sag as the words ran through you. "What do you mean?"

They shrugged, sharing another glance with Victoria.

"You mentioned him a lot. And you said they all had a past. Maybe it’s some kind of guilt?”

Your eyes widened as you considered the possibility, the weight of it settling heavily in your chest. You hadn’t consciously connected the two, the strange anxiety and guilt that had bubbled throughout the week. But now that it had been mentioned, acknowledged by someone other than yourself, the thought lingered, a seed of doubt taking root.

Maybe they were right; maybe you’d been letting guilt hold you back from pursuing what you truly wanted. That extended to things far beyond the way you felt for Az. The truth was, you did feel guilty. You'd lost time with your friends when you and Eris dated. It was part of the reason why you felt even worse for not wanting to move with Mor— because you didn't want to disappoint her another time, to make her feel like you were choosing something else over her.

And there was Azriel. Azriel, Azriel, Azriel. Where was he anyways? You should go find him. Surely it's been too long. Were you spending too much time with him? Should you be at Mor's hip instead?  Your thoughts started swirling faster, more compounded and harder to process. 

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way,” you admitted, your voice quiet. "Maybe that's it."

Why was it so easy to be more honest to complete strangers than to yourself? Such a strange thing, you thought, as Victoria watched you carefully. Her eyes softened with understanding. There was a moment of silence before Jamie smiled encouragingly, gently placing a hand on her thigh. 

“I think Vi has something to show you.”

"Oh, right! I do." She beamed, eyes lighting up with excitement. She pulled out her phone and a few seconds later, she was holding it out to you, a photo on the screen. "This was why I was so glad to run into you."

The photo was taken the day before, during the set where Victoria had taken that picture of you and Azriel. This one was from behind, capturing Azriel’s arm resting naturally around your waist as you both watched the band. The sight stirred something deep within you. You felt a smile tug at your lips as you remembered how that moment had felt—comfortable, right, as if the world outside had fallen away, leaving just the two of you.

When you met her eyes again, Victoria grinned, clearly delighted by your reaction. “Watch the live,” she said, offering you her phone to hold in your own hands.

You listened, gently taking it and pressing down on the photo. It showed you looking away from Az, a soft smile on your face, and then, right after, Az looking down at you with an expression just as soft, one that you felt deeply in your chest. You let it replay a couple of times.

No wonder Victoria had assumed you and Az were together, had complimented you like a couple, told her partner about you both. If you were an outsider watching this moment, you’d think you were a couple too—so natural, so connected. What could be, if only you were brave enough to reach for it.

Victoria’s voice pulled you back. “It was fate that I ran into you again. The picture was so cute I was tempted to post it somewhere in hopes it got to you.”

Her words made you smile and you glanced at Jamie. The way they looked at her, with such tenderness and affection, was like something out of a fairy tale. It made your heart ache, longing for something similar. Azriel's laugh echoed faintly in your head. 

Jamie caught your gaze and nodded toward the phone in Victoria’s hand. “Friends don’t look at friends that way,” they said, their grin slightly teasing but gentle all the same. “Just so you know.”

Victoria sighed wistfully, leaning into Jamie as they wrapped an arm around her. "You know what I think?" You raised a brow, inviting her to continue. Her face softened as she met your gaze. "You should tell him how you feel."

You sighed, looking down at the ground. Admitting you felt something for Azriel could change the dynamic between you. And not only that, but the dynamic between you and everyone else. You liked where everything was at now. You didn’t want to ruin it.

“It’s just not that simple.”

“No one said it would be,” She said gently. She looked up at Jamie, her eyes shining a bit brighter than seconds before. “But sometimes, the best things aren’t.”

You had given Az similar advice the day before—urging him to chase his dreams and not confine himself to limitations. The irony of those very words being directed back at you now, especially about him, made you want to laugh. It felt oddly fitting and full-circle. Maybe you could write a paper about it. 

Jamie tangled their fingers in Victoria’s hair. They nodded in agreement, giving you a look that said: Listen to her. She's right. 

Victoria seemed to catch your hesitation and she called your attention with a gentle murmur of your name. "I'm serious," she said. "The regret of not trying will probably be much stronger than any guilt you feel now."

You smiled to yourself, picking at the grass around you and feeling the blades between your fingers. You looked at them again, amused at how your day had led you to this insightful couple and some much-needed time to spill your guts.

"You guys are so wise," you said with a small chuckle. "Y'know that?"

"It's these fucking spiked lemonades," she replied, lifting up her empty can. "They give me a fifth sense."

Jamie chuckled next to her. They patted her head gently. "Sixth."

"Huh?" She said, turning her head to look at them. 

"Sixth sense, babe," they said. "You already have five senses."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel had found you five minutes into your second conversation with Victoria and Jamie, his eyes wide and cheeks slightly red. He'd been looking for you for almost fifteen minutes, his countless calls having been sent to voicemail because your phone had been silenced. You'd apologized profusely, but Az had laughed it off, saying he was grateful that you had a shirt he could see from miles away and a hat he knew like the back of his hand. He greeted Jamie and Victoria, recognizing the latter almost immediately, and then jokingly thanked them for watching you while he was gone, making a joke that you were a wandering toddler with an affinity for shiny things.

Victoria shot you a knowing look as you both walked away.

You had a few more minutes before you were scheduled to meet the rest of the group, so you took the opportunity to enjoy the scene. You and Azriel wandered through the vibrant area of the festival where booths from local artists and craftspeople lined the grassy areas. The atmosphere was lively, filled with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of music from nearby stages. With everything around you vying for your attention, your mind stayed tethered to the conversation with Jamie and Victoria.

You stopped when you spotted a photobooth nestled between two tables, a vintage looking thing advertising two strips of 5 photos for 12 bucks. A steep price, but something in you was drawn to it nonetheless.

You looked at Azriel with a grin. “Does the photographer feel like being photographed?

Az raised an eyebrow. “I feel like no matter what I say, you'll somehow convince me to do it anyways.”

You smiled wider, biting your lip to keep it from spreading too much. “You know me so well.”

The space was intimate, practically needing you both to sit atop of one another. You gently took his hat off, placing it in your lap as Azriel’s arm slipped comfortably around your shoulders, drawing you even closer. The gesture was casual, something he'd done countless times before, but it sent your pulse racing all the same.

Azriel’s smile was warm as he looked into the camera and you found yourself acutely aware of his presence, noting the smallest of details despite the camera's low quality. The curls on his head, the sharpness of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled as he grinned. The smile on your face as the booth snapped its first picture was a result of staring at Az's reflection; your second smile came from the sound of his laugher, soft and genuine, filling the tiny space.

You reached out and gently cupped his cheek for one of the next poses, your fingers brushing against his skin. His expression softened. And then his fingers were grazing your hair, slowly tangling themselves by winding a strand around his finger.

As the fourth picture snapped, you noticed how he was looking at you—not at the camera, but at you. His gaze was steady and unwavering, filled with something you couldn’t quite name but felt in every fiber of your being. You turned to look at him, meeting his eyes with soft breath. 

Jamie’s voice echoed in your head, a distant but persistent echo. Friends don’t look at friends that way.

The space between you seemed to contract. You took a deep breath, feeling a familiar buzz of longing resurface. And suddenly, you were eighteen again, millimeters away from Az on that Halloween night. His eyes drifted to your lips.

Victoria’'s voice whispered next: The regret of not trying will probably be much stronger than any guilt you feel now.

Azriel leaned in, his eyes drifting shut as he brought his hand up to cradle your hair. Your breath hitched and you moved to close the distance, a sudden need filling your body. Azriel, your mind seemed to whisper, repeatedly like a prayer, Azriel Azriel, Azriel—

A sudden, blinding FLASH snapped you to reality. You both pulled back slightly, eyes wide, as the booth’s camera whirred to capture the memory you’d just almost shared. Azriel blinked, clearing his throat, and you scrambled to pull back the curtain, stepping into the blinding sunshine. 

You fumbled with your shirt, trying to smooth it down as though you'd been caught in some misstep. The words, I made your dad a bottom, mocked you boldly. Avoiding Azriel’s gaze, you stared at the ground as he handed you the strip of photos. Your hand brushed his briefly, lingering long enough to feel the warmth of his touch as you took the pictures.

You glanced at the photos, then looked up to find Azriel already staring at you. You opened your mouth to say something, but a familiar voice yelling your names cut you off. Mor and Cassian came sprinting towards you with wide smiles. You shoved the photo strip into your bag. 

You smiled, making an effort to focus on the story Cass was animatedly telling as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his side. But your eyes kept drifting back to Azriel, who seemed just as lost in thought as you. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were a sentimentalist at your core. 

For as long as you could remember, you collected memories. You stored them away like treasures, delicate and fragile, saving them for rainy days when you'd wrap yourself in nostalgia like a warm blanket. You wanted everything to have meaning, for things to make sense in a world that often didn’t. Perhaps that’s what led you to study philosophy—a major that let you think too deeply about everything, that encouraged you to seek understanding to a point where nothing made sense.

The Stoics believed that the practice of virtue was enough to achieve eudaimonia, a well-lived life. As you stood in the grassy expanse, watching the lights dance across the night sky and feeling the music pulse through your veins, you thought that maybe this was what they meant. Maybe this was a well-lived life—being surrounded by the simple joy of being alive.

The sun had long set and the sky above was a blanket of deep indigo. You'd all chosen to enjoy the headliner and final performance from a distance, preferring the open space behind the throng rather than being swallowed by the crush of bodies near the stage. From your vantage point you watched the massive crowd sway in unison, a sea of bobbing heads and glowing sticks. Every now and then flashing neon lights would meet your eyes, causing you to squint at their power. 

You could see it all—the band on the huge screens, the ocean of people, and the world alive around you. Your arms were intertwined with Mor and Feyre's as you danced together, singing the songs at the top of your lungs. Mor pulled you both closer and you felt her laugh more than you heard it, a rumble through her body as she beamed into the endless night.

Feyre laughed, and you watched as her gaze fell elsewhere. She squeezed you both before bouncing towards Rhys, hair flying wild and free. He caught her easily, their bodies swaying in perfect harmony and you grinned at the way they fit so effortlessly together. You stored the image of their smiles away in your mind.

Mor pulled you towards her, bringing your cheeks between her palms. Her eyes were glowing with a mixture of happiness and the alcohol in her system as she grinned.  "I'm so glad you're here!"

The words ran through you, warming every corner of your body as you smiled back to her. Distantly, you could feel the tickle of tears behind your eyes--- the urge to cry from a strange mixture of love, happiness, and guilt. You let your mind focus on that love as your smile grew wider. 

"Me too," you responded loudly. "I love you."

Mor's eyes lit up even more as she squealed, pulling you into a quick hug as she repeated the words back to you, over and over. When you pulled away, you found Cassian next to you, his strong arms wrapping around both of you, drawing you into his orbit. He twirled you and you laughed, moving with him until your world was a dizzy blur of colors and lights. And when Cass moved to pull Mor, you paused for a moment, looking around the crowd. You weren't quite sure what you were searching for. But your heart seemed to be seeking it, some craving.

 A few steps away were Rhys and Feyre, their faces lit up with excitement as they sang animatedly to Azriel. You turned your attention to him, observing his genuine smile and the way he moved to the music. Despite the proximity of your bodies on the same patch of grass, in this fleeting instant, he seemed distant, absorbed in his own enjoyment--- and you watched it with a sense of admiration. Your gaze lingered on his lips.

The craving you once had—whatever it was you had been searching for—faded as he laughed. 

You gently pulled away from Mor and Cassian, stepping aside to watch your friends dance. The scene was too perfect to let slip away unrecorded, so you pulled out your phone and captured a bit of it. The quality would suck in the darkness, the figures mostly shadow with laser lights painting them in brief flashes of color, but you didn’t care. 

A bittersweet ache ran through you. You'd never have this moment again. And if you parted ways after graduation, you'd miss out on many more moments like this. When you looked back up, Az was approaching you. There was a smile on his face that matched the warmth in you, a sense of peace that paired perfectly with that tingling excitement that Az often made you feel.

He extended his hand towards you. "It's time to take your own advice.”

You looked at his outstretched hand, then up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. He didn't need to explain his words further. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Almost instantly, your mind traveled to the countless times you had urged him to embrace the moment, attempted to pull him out of his head. 

You let out a determined breath and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you pulled him back towards the group. Mor and Feyre had blended into a new group, singing along and laughing with their new friends. Meanwhile, Cassian and Rhys were dancing in a playful, almost mocking manner, with Cassian humorously mimicking the way Rhys and Feyre had been dancing closely.

You tugged Azriel into the midst of it all, letting him guide you into a light twirl. The music wrapped around you, the lights casting an ethereal glow over the jubilant crowd. The world narrowed into this experience--- to you and Az surrounded by your friends, to Mor singing the lyrics to a giggling Feyre. 

The Stoics believed in many things. They believed in the value of virtue and the pursuit of wisdom, in accepting the things we cannot change, and most importantly, they believed in the power of the present moment. It is the only thing we have control over.

Your wandering thoughts from earlier were all true. You'd never be this young again. You'd never attend this same festival, never be this drunk, never dance like this in this exact constellation of friends and music. You'd miss out on many memories, many moments just as joyous. 

You’d never have this exact moment again.

But right now, it was all yours.

And that was all that mattered.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

For your viewing pleasure, here is the view Victoria had of Reader and Az:

drawn by the best and most talented ever @micahssketchbook

authors note: i wonder who that sweet sexy drunk best friend was named after.... @daycourtofficial any ideas?

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound @melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

[jackhues]

karma - auston matthews

notes: this is based off of @matthewshisch's idea (karma is the guy on the leafs)! so s/o to her <3 also, reader is a singer :)) AND gif not mine !

likes are good, reblogs are better!

being a celebrity meant that no matter what, one thing would always be a fixed thing in your life. and that was the rumours.

one week you were dating a new guy. the next, you were engaged to some kid from your hometown. the next week, you were back with your ex.

no matter what, the dating rumours always flew around you. maybe the fact that you never made it public with anyone fuelled those even more. whatever the case, it was funny reading them.

especially when you thought about what you had planned for tonight.

a knock sounded on your door, followed by a familiar voice, "did someone order some flowers?"

you couldn't help the smile growing on your face as you made eye contact with auston in the mirror.

you were in your dressing room at the stadium, getting ready for the opening night of your multi-month tour. you'd worked hard to get to where you were now -- one of the most successful female artists in the world.

and right there by your side, supporting you for the past year, was none other than auston matthews, your boyfriend. you'd met at a leafs game years ago, but he'd only reached out to you just over a year before. ever since then, the two of you kept your relationship under wraps for the most part, doing your best to just enjoy your time together without the media's comments.

you'd talked about going public before, but for the most part, decided to let life take it's course. of course... tonight would be a pretty big surprise.

"hi, you made it," you got up from your chair, sinking into his arms for a hug.

"i wouldn't miss this for the world," he responded, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "it's my girl's big day. first tour in almost three years. nothing's gonna stop me from being here."

you grinned stupidly to yourself, finding auston's words so comforting and sweet. even after a whole year, he managed to make you feel giddy.

"i'm really happy you're here," you whispered, pulling away. "oh! i've got a surprise for you, but i can't give it to you right now. i'll give it after, okay?"

"a surprise for me?" auston repeated. "it's your day."

"hush, i wanted to do it," you said.

another knock sounded on your door, and your assistant, jenny, poked her head in. "y/n, we've got to start in ten. let's go. auston, mark's got your seat saved. head over quick, or someone'll spot you."

"that's not a big deal," auston waved it off. "if someone spots me, they spot me. it's not the end of the world."

"well, fact remains, we need y/n right now," she said. "c'mon, you can have her back when she's done her show."

"i'll see you soon," you kissed auston, before following jenny out to your position.

you adjusted your earpiece, waiting for the lights to dim. as soon as they did, the platform you were standing on moved higher, allowing you to enter directly on stage.

the lights turned back on, and the crowd went wild.

"let the show begin," you whispered to yourself.

---

"'cause karma is the thunder," you sang, "rattling your ground. karma's on your scent like a bounty hunter. karma's gonna track you down."

the crowd waved their flashlights in the air, following you as you continued dancing to the beat of the song, singing along. getting closer and closer to the surprise you planned for auston.

"step by step from town to town," you continued. "sweet like justice, karma is a queen. karma takes all my friends to the summit..."

you paused for half a second, allowing production to ready themselves and for the crowd to pay attention to the small change.

"karma is the guy on the leafs, coming straight home to me!"

you stomped on the mark, blue sparklers going off on either side of the stage -- matching with the colour of your dress and the leafs' colours.

the crowd screamed as you continued your performance, losing their minds at the confirmation that you and auston were dating.

"cause karma is my boyfriend," you locked eyes with auston in the crowd, noticing him smiling widely to himself as people nearby recorded the interaction. winking at him, you continued your song, "karma is a god."

the crowd continued chanting throughout the song, no one truly getting over the lyric change you'd done.

you had a feeling there were gonna be rumours about this for a while.

---

tags : @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj

join my main taglist!

[screebyy]

Part 5 the healing power of taking a long walk in the middle of the night

A collection of lil interactions that were too short and/or silly so i have super glued them together 🙌

Prev | Next | Start

Scene 1: Panel 1: Wide shot of Jolyon and Crow standing at the base of a cliff. Beside them, the white staircase they’ve been following has partially collapsed, blocking their ascent. Jolyon is beginning to climb the cliffside, while Crow observes with his hands on his hips.

Panel 2: Jolyon is nearly at the top of the rock wall, grabbing the top ledge awkwardly

Panel 3: Jolyon is pulling himself up onto the ledge ungracefully

Panel 4: Jolyon sits back on the ledge with a sigh, clearly exhausted from the effort.

Panel 5: Jolyon is startled as Crow jumps past him. Crow is a blurry streak of black & white lines.

Panel 6: Wide, tall shot showing that Crow has triple-jumped up the entire rock wall effortlessly.

Panel 7: Jolyon glares up at Crow, slightly annoyed. The text “wtf” is visible beside him.

Panel 8: Crow looks down at him with a shrug and a cheeky smile, walking backwards towards their destination.

Scene 2: Panel 1: Crow and Jolyon are walking down a white stone path between two rock walls overlooking a clff. They are walking away from the camera, towards a white set of stairs that curve up and around the mountainside. Distant mountains are visible in the background, with dreaming city gazebos anbd pillars sitting on the cliffsides.

Panel 2: Front shot of Crow and Jolyon chatting with each other. Crow is waving his hands emphatically, and Jolyon is smiling lightly. Speech bubbles with squiggly lines denote a non-specific conversation between them.

Panel 3: Crow leans towards Jolyon and summons Glint with one hand with a  broad smile. Jolyon looks down at Glint’s sudden appearance with surprise.

Panel 4: Jolyon is smiling and laughing, talking to Glint in the background. Speech bubbles with cartoonish black crows in them indicate that they are gossiping about Crow together. Crow is in the foreground, walking in front of them with an exasperated, embarrassed expression.

Scene 3: Panel 1: Wide shot of a white marble plaza circling around the mountainside. Jolyon and Crow are walking towards the camera, still climbing. Jolyon is walking in front of Crow. It is still dark, but golden rays of dawn are visible in the fog blanketing the background.

Crow: “We’re almost at the summit, right?” Jolyon: “Almost.” Crow: “It’s nearly dawn…”

Panel 2: Crow is looking out at the landscape with a distant expression. Jolyon has paused and turned back towards him. Crow: “It’s changed so much since the first time we walked here.” Jolyon: “It was a long time ago. There was no city then, just a bunch of rocks.”

Panel 3: Close up of Jolyon as he turns away slightly, smiling distantly and looking down. Jolyon: “Uldren was so… Uncertain.”

Panel 4: Flashback of Uldren and Jolyon in the distant past. Jolyon is wearing a plain green sweater and his hair is pulled back into a bun. Uldren is wearing a black hoodie. Jolyon is standing inside the  white and red ship he was living in, opening the door to greet Uldren. Uldren is blushing very hard, standing stiffly outside and looking extremely uncomfortable. Jolyon is staring at him with a “?” floating beside his head. Jolyon (present day): “I still remember him showing up on my doorstep, shaking like a leaf. I’d never seen him so nervous.” Uldren (flashback): “hey wanna take a walk with me”

Panel 5: Crow turns and continues walking down the path, smiling distantly. Crow: “He was worried. He didn’t think you’d hear him out.”

Panel 6: Jolyon also resumes walking, with the same nostalgic expression on his face. Jolyon: “Hah. If I was smarter, I wouldn’t have.”

Panel 7: shot looking over Jolyon’s shoulder as he walks past the camera. Crow is glancing up at him with a soft smile. Jolyon: “But lucky him…” Crow: “...”

Panel 8: Close up of crow as he turns back towards the cliffside, looking slightly sad as his smile drops. Crow: “He always regretted that, by the way.”

Panel 9: Side shot of Jolyon as he stops walking. His expression is not visible. Crow (offscreen): “Shutting you out, when you said you were going to leave the Distributary with him. And ignoring you that first year here.

Panel 10: Flashback of Uldren walking away from Jolyon. Jolyon is reaching for him with a distraught expression, and Uldren is tearing his hand away from Jolyon’s grasp, looking frustrated. Crow (present day): “He was just… terrified that if you followed him into another war, you were going to die for him. He thought if he pushed you away, you might decide to stay behind.”

Panel 11: Close up of Jolyon in present day. He is staring blankly down at the ground, turning slightly away from Crow. He looks sad and distant. Crow (offscreen): “And when you didn’t… He didn’t know what else to do.” Jolyon: “Huh…”

Panel 12: Jolyon turns back towards Crow as he walks up beside him. Jolyon is grinning good-naturedly, with a teasing expression. Crow looks confused and is brushing his hair out of his eyes as he looks up at Jolyon. Jolyon: “I’m sure he never grasped the hypocrisy of that, did he?” Crow: “What?” Jolyon: “It sounds like something Mara would do.” Crow: “oh…”

Panel 13: Side shot as the both continue walking. Crow is walking beside Jolyon, looking up at him. Jolyon is staring straight ahead with a neutral expression. Crow: “Then… I guess not. But he did regret it.” Jolyon: “Yeah. That part I knew.”

[throneofsapphics]

could i pls request feysand x reader, where they meet tamlin at some meeting/party and he finds out y/n exist and gets mad at the whole relationship. Imagine reader punches him for all he did to feyre and feysand are so proud🥹🥹

that’s our girl

Feysand x Reader

Summary: Reader loses her temper. 

Warnings: light violence  

A/N: thank you for the request! 

Relations between the Spring and Night court had … settled over the years, to tolerable levels. 

It was some sort of summit  for the various courts, each bringing a small delegation. Business during the day, gatherings at night. Designed to hopefully ease some tensions, and create a more unified Prythian. 

You stayed out of the meetings - thankfully, you found the dreadfully boring. No amount of convincing or ‘encouragement,’ could get you into a council room. 

The first night, you stuck close to Rhys and Feyre, carefully watching the room. Even if you weren’t in close proximity to them, their scents were entwined with yours, and yours with theirs. 

Inevitably, the three of you crossed paths with the High Lord of the Spring Court. Your eyes clocked his every movement. His nostrils flared, looking between the three of you as the pieces clicked together. 

“One wasn’t enough for you, Rhysand?” He drawled, ignoring both you and Feyre. Your temper flared. Feyre wrapped an arm around your shoulders, gently tugging you into her side. The action didn’t go unnoticed. It was necessarily to protect you, but to keep you from doing something rash. “Or for you,” he sneered at Feyre. 

It wasn’t the words that set you off, but the tone and nasty look in his eyes. Everything he’d done to Feyre, all she and Rhys had told you. 

You moved so quickly nobody had time to react as your fist connection with his face. The satisfying crunch of his nose breaking overrode any pain in your hand. A shield of Rhys’s separated the two of you before Tamlin could react. The shock on his features brought a grin to your face. A taunting one, daring him to hit back. He took a step closer, towards the shield, but Rhys sent him a look that promised a slow, long death and he paused before turning on his heel and heading for the other side of the room, as far away as possible. 

“You promised you’d behave yourself,” Rhys murmured. 

“I behaved adequately.” You countered, narrowing your eyes. 

Feyre had already taken your hand, her magic healing the small bruises left behind. She tried to look disappointed in you, but failed miserably. Rhys did a slightly better job, but you could sense the pride rolling from him in waves. 

“That’s my girl,” he said it so quietly you almost missed it. 

“That’s our girl,” Feyre corrected.

[rainforestakiie]

hi! i am back with part 03 of Promised Soul! so happy i got it posted! i will be writing your ask next @lilacwriter07 i do hope you've enjoyed this AU so far! everyone has been so nice!

this is an adamapple fic placed in the omegaverse. there is so much lucifer in this chapter, finally! lucifer was inspired by @inubaki's Naga lucifer!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

The massive head of Quetzalcoatl loomed over the stairs; its stone visage larger than Adam’s entire body. It jutted out from the smooth side of the temple, surrounded by intricate feather-like carvings that framed the god's crocodilian face. Adam paused beside it, captivated by the beauty and craftsmanship. The details were far more exquisite than those he had seen on the walls below; each feather and scale was etched into the golden stone with a precision that seemed almost divine.

As Adam’s eyes drifted upward, he marvelled at the sudden surge of energy coursing through him. The moment he stepped onto the first stair, it was as if an unseen force was propelling him forward, allowing him to ascend each step effortlessly. It was maddening how he could keep going without breaking a sweat. Now, so high up that the entire layout of Pentagram City unfolded beneath him, Adam understood for the first time why the city bore its name—the streets and buildings formed a perfect pentagram.

He squinted towards the point that contained Eden and his family, spotting the eternal flames of the Phoenixs even from this great height. A pang of doubt gnawed at him as he wondered what his family would say if they knew what he was doing, defying the sacred temple in such a blasphemous way. If the Jorōgumo caught him, his life would be torn away in the most horrific manner. Would his clan even mourn his loss?

Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Adam turned his gaze back to the carved face of Quetzalcoatl, releasing a soft sigh. The sides of the stairs were lined with emerald stones, reminiscent of the emerald bones Quetzalcoatl had used to create the first humans, animals, and gods according to their ancient lore. Adam reached out, brushing his fingers over the smooth surface of the emeralds. The story in their textbooks told of Quetzalcoatl’s journey to the underworld, where he gathered the emerald bones of men, women, and animals, but in his haste to return to the middle realm, he accidentally mixed them up, giving birth to their current world.

Tilting his head back, Adam stared up at the remaining steps. He still had a long way to go, and time was running out. He needed to reach the top before sunrise, or risk being spotted by the ever-watchful Jorōgumo. The thought of what might happen if he were caught flitted through his mind—would they devour him on the spot or hand him over to the Red Caps? The Red Caps were a gruesome breed, notorious for spilling blood just to keep their hats crimson. They were relentless killers, driven by the belief that the blood on their caps had to remain fresh at all costs. Lilith had once mentioned that if the Jorōgumo didn’t want to feast on a captured traitor, they would throw them to the Red Caps.

But the strange ache within him, the one that had been urging him onward, was growing stronger, pulling him up the steps with an almost magnetic force. His fragile body should have been aching, but he felt nothing but the burning need to reach the temple’s peak. He didn’t fully understand what he was feeling or why this overwhelming compulsion was driving him to such reckless heights, but he couldn’t stop himself. The closer he got to the sacred structure at the top, the more determined he became.

As the sky began to lighten and the first rays of the sun crept up behind him, Adam found himself nearing the summit. Pride swelled in his chest as he realized how far he had come. He pulled himself up what he thought was another step, only to find that he had reached the top.

Panting softly, Adam flipped himself over and let his legs dangle over the edge of the platform. He wiggled his feet, feeling an exhilarating mix of exhaustion and triumph. As the sun rose, casting a golden glow across Pentagram City, Adam’s breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so full of life. The city below, bathed in the light of dawn, seemed almost magical, as if the world had come alive just for him.

Adam lingered for a few moments, savouring the view despite the danger that might lurk below. He knew that staying in one place could make him an easy target for the Jorōgumo, but he hoped his altitude would keep him out of sight. Yet, the gnawing sensation deep in his chest returned, this time with a force that nearly took his breath away. A shiver ran through him, compelling him to sit up straight as an inexplicable urge drew him toward the temple.

It was as if the very force beckoning him knew he was idling just outside the door...

Adam wiped the back of his hand across his nose and forced himself to his feet, casting a final, wistful glance over Pentagram City before turning toward the temple's grand archway. The structure before him was breathtaking, a marvel of gold, red, and green. Emerald stones embedded in the temple walls glistened even more brilliantly as the sun crept higher in the sky. From this height, the temple's box-like structure appeared far more massive than it had from below, looming above him with an archway that resembled a gaping, cavernous mouth.

Adam trembled, his fingers knotting together in nervous anticipation. He had ventured farther than any creature from Pentagram City had dared. Slowly, he inched forward, the warmth of the temple’s stones seeping through his boots. He squinted against the sunlight as he approached the golden-framed archway, tentatively raising his hands to touch the gilded stones. Peering inside, he saw the sunlight flooding the temple, illuminating its exquisite murals—depictions of Quetzalcoatl himself. With nothing but the sparkling ruby pillars supporting the ceiling, Adam hesitated before stepping inside.

His gaze was immediately drawn to the paintings of Quetzalcoatl. His breath caught in his throat as he studied the mural, which dominated the main wall of the temple, a testament to the deity’s grandeur. Quetzalcoatl’s serpentine form was resplendent, his body adorned with emerald and gold scales, a stripe of lime green feathers running down his back like a soft plume. His underbelly shimmered with warmer hues of gold, orange, and red. The deity’s face, a blend of dragon and bird, was framed by a magnificent mane of rainbow feathers—blue, red, green, yellow, pink—every colour Adam had ever known. But what truly captivated him were the six glorious wings that stretched out from Quetzalcoatl’s long body, surrounding it in a halo of divine power.

And beneath Quetzalcoatl's body...were seven egg-like objects?

Adam tilted his head in curiosity, unconsciously stepping backward. Eggs? Why would Quetzalcoatl have eggs? Had the god consumed eggs during his time in the mortal realm? Just as the thought crossed his mind, Adam’s back brushed against something that was most certainly not stone.

It was warm. Very warm, but not unpleasant—quite the opposite, in fact. The warmth was comforting, inviting even, and Adam felt an almost irresistible urge to curl into it. As his back pressed against the solid form, his hands flew out to touch it, encountering softness and a series of feathery ridges beneath his fingers. But he resisted the urge to snuggle in, because whatever he was touching...was moving. The body beneath his hands was slowly breathing, its breaths shallow and rhythmic.

Adam’s eyes widened, his face draining of colour as fear wrapped its icy tendrils around his heart. He took a step forward, balancing on the balls of his feet, and slowly turned around. His body shuddered with dread, his eyes growing even wider, his jaw clenching in terror.

It wasn’t a wall at all. No, it was a massive, coiled body, its full-length filling nearly the entire temple chamber. Adam couldn’t see the creature’s head or tail, but the sheer size of the body made him feel as insignificant as an ant. What he had assumed to be wings were folded tightly against the creature’s serpentine form, draped over it like a protective blanket. Soft blue and white scales lined the top of the body, while crimson feathers adorned its back.

Adam swallowed hard, his body trembling as he tried to retreat without making a sound. But in his panic, he backed into a row of waist-high ruby pillars, each topped with an emerald stone. One of the stones toppled to the ground with a resounding clank. Breath hitching, Adam scrambled to retrieve the emerald, running his hands over it to check for damage before hurriedly placing it back.

The shallow breathing had ceased. Adam’s heart plummeted as he turned to face the once-slumbering serpent. The massive body twitched, then slowly began to unfurl. Huge wings stretched out wide, and a monstrous, dragon-like head rose from the coils of its own body. Glittering gold and red eyes narrowed down at Adam, the creature’s wings spreading with a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down his spine.

It was...it was...

“Q-Quetzalcoatl?” Adam stammered, trembling.

A deep, resonant voice rumbled from the serpent as Adam’s voice echoed through the temple, causing him to flinch.

“Not quite,” the serpent replied. “That’s my father.”

“F-Father?” Adam stuttered in disbelief. “Quetzalcoatl has children?”

The serpent let out a snort of amusement before twisting its massive body. It dove back into the nest of its own coils, but as it did so, the enormous form began to shrink. Adam watched in awe as the snake god’s body diminished in size until it was nearly as small as Adam himself. The creature’s form coiled tightly before a humanoid figure emerged in its place, pale arms crossing over its snake-like tail, chin propped on top.

"I believe I've mentioned that before, Adam," the man murmured, his voice laced with smug satisfaction, a sly grin curling on his cherry-red lips as he regarded the failed Phoenix Omega with an amused glint in his eyes.

Adam could only stare in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled from the depths. The man before him bore familiar golden curls, crowned like a twisted halo atop his head, with two prominent tufts reminiscent of horns. His lips, lush and stained a deep, sultry red, contrasted strikingly against his mismatched eyes—one a molten gold, the other a burning crimson. From his wrists, black and green claws, framed by a cascade of crimson feathers. Further down, emerald and ruby feathers peeked seductively from his hips, forming a long, sinuous tail where his legs should have been. The tail was a mesmerizing tapestry of blue, red, and white scales, blending seamlessly into his serpentine form.

“You're real?!” Adam choked out, his voice a strained screech as he pointed a trembling finger at the ethereal being before him. “You weren’t just a figment of my imagination?!”

The man threw his head back, a rich, melodious laugh echoing through the chamber, deepening the flush of the crimson circles on his cheeks. “Sorry to shatter your illusions, but I am very much real.”

“You are?” Adam's voice wavered, barely more than a whisper. “You’re real, and...and you’re here? Here? You’re the—the what?”

The man tilted his head, an endearing gesture as he nestled deeper into the plush embrace of his tail. “Son of Quetzalcoatl. The youngest child, to be precise.”

“Y-Youngest child of…” Adam faltered, raising a hand to his temple as confusion swirled within him. “This can’t be real... Did I hit my head? Did the Jorōgumo catch me? Did Lilith kill me and I’m—I'm dead?”

A soft hum fluttered from the man's cherry-red lips as he tilted his head skyward, parting those tempting lips to release a sound so mesmerizing it could make the Sirens of the Black Lake envious. The man's eyes fluttered shut as an enchanting melody danced off his tongue, wrapping itself around Adam, binding him in its spell. The song was sweet and beguiling, twirling through the temple and causing the emerald stones to glow with an otherworldly light. The soft green and red feathers adorning the man's body shuddered, standing on end as he sang.

Adam found himself irresistibly drawn closer, his heart skipping a beat. As the man’s lullaby ended, Adam’s gaze was caught in the deep, entrancing pools of the man’s golden and crimson eyes.

"You sang that to me before..." Adam whispered, the memory stirring in his heart. "When I was a child."

"Indeed," the man replied tenderly. "You were crying. Do you remember me now?"

Adam nodded slowly, his legs giving way beneath him as he sank to his knees before the feathered serpent's beauty. "I thought you were a dream... Everyone told me there was no such thing as a feathered Naga. I searched for you, I never stopped looking, but..."

"I told you then, I had to return home," the man said softly, his long serpentine form beginning to unfurl from its nest-like coil. He raised himself, towering above Adam, and slithered closer, lowering his face to Adam's. "It seems you don't remember everything after all."

"I..." Adam bit his lip, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. "I was young and emotional. I convinced myself you were nothing more than a comforting dream."

A disappointed click of the man’s tongue cut through the air, though a fleeting look of regret passed through his pretty eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a determined gaze. He raised his black and green clawed hands, lightly cupping Adam’s cheeks, forcing the trembling Omega to meet his gaze once more.

"I wasn’t allowed to linger in the mortal realm for long. I could only stay until I had chosen my intended mate. Then I had to return to the higher realm, where I slumbered for five years, before descending to the underworld for the final years of my journey."

Adam swallowed thickly, feeling the heat of the man's touch seeping into his skin, his heart pounding in his chest. Mate... The word echoed in his mind, sparking a memory long buried.

"Now, tell me, Adam," the man’s voice slithered into his ears, sweet as honey yet tinged with a serpentine hiss. Adam’s eyes were drawn to the man’s forked tongue as it flickered out, teasing his cherry-red lips. "Do you remember my name? Even after I warned you never to forget?"

He couldn’t look away, the man’s face inching closer, his golden and ruby eyes hooded, pupils dilated, trapping Adam in a gaze that left him paralyzed.

"Say my name, Adam," the man whispered, his forked tongue brushing against Adam's lips, sending a shiver down his spine.

"...Lucifer..." Adam breathed out, his voice barely audible.

A sharp, wicked grin spread across Lucifer’s lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners in delight. The end of his feathered, rattling tail quivered with pleasure, his sharp clawed fingers stroking the soft curve of Adam's cheeks.

"Good boy," Lucifer cooed, nuzzling his face against Adam's. His hands held Adam's face still as he brought his lips dangerously close. "Now for your reward~"

"My reward?" Adam whimpered, his breath hitching.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Lucifer claimed Adam’s lips in a kiss. The soft, plumpness of those cherry-red lips sent a tingling sensation washing over Adam, making him quiver. Lucifer’s kiss was gentle at first, a sweet caress of lips, as he began to coil his serpentine body around Adam, not quite touching him but forming a coiling nest around him, leaving no escape should Adam try to flee.

Lucifer’s sharp fangs grazed Adam’s bottom lip, capturing it between his own lips and sucking softly, before slipping back to deepen the kiss. His forked tongue flickered against Adam's lips, a teasing request for entry, as the serpent's embrace tightened, holding Adam close within his seductive grasp.

Cradling Adam's flushed cheeks, Lucifer’s sinuous tongue persisted in its quest, licking insistently for entry until the tip of his tail slithered with serpentine grace behind Adam. It trailed along the nape of his neck, purposely brushing Adam’s Omega glands and sending a shiver racing down Adam’s spine. In that moment of unexpected contact, Adam jerked with a startled squeal. The sound was swiftly silenced as Lucifer’s tongue took advantage of the parted lips, slipping into the now open haven of Adam's mouth.

Adam shuddered violently, his back arching at the unfamiliar sensation of Lucifer’s forked tongue exploring him. The tongue traced the contours of Adam’s own, a possessive dance that claimed every inch of his mouth as its territory. Finally, Lucifer withdrew, pulling back just enough to leave a thick, glistening bridge of saliva connecting their rosy lips, a testament to the intimate invasion.

"You... y-you kissed me..." Adam panted, his voice trembling, his face an uncharacteristic shade of red.

Lucifer's grin widened with delight as he leaned in to steal another quick, playful kiss. "Mates kiss, Adam. They kiss all the time."

"Well, um, y-yeah, but I'm—not—why would you want to kiss me?" Adam stammered, his words stumbling over each other as an unexpected bashfulness crept over him. His mind was a whirl of confusion, and though he couldn’t see it, an instinctive sense of danger began to close in around him, tightening like a noose.

Lucifer's hands continued to cradle Adam’s cheeks, a soft rattle-purr emanating from his feathered tail. "Because you are my mate, Adam. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that, too? You’ve been mine for ten years now, Addie~"

A shaky gasp escaped Adam's lips as Lucifer’s rattling tail continued its teasingly caress, sliding up and down his spine, brushing repeatedly against the Omega glands at the back of his neck—glands that had remained untouched for years, now throbbing with a newfound sensitivity.

Lucifer tugged Adam closer, pulling him into an embrace that forced the Phoenix Omega to rise onto the tips of his toes. Adam's hands instinctively shot up, grasping onto Lucifer’s wrists for balance, especially as Lucifer pressed their lips together once more, sealing their connection with another deep, intoxicating kiss.

It was nice. Maybe too good. Adam found himself melting into the kiss, sighing pleasantly and even beginning to try and kiss back. He stretched himself onto the tip of his toes further and push his lips back against Lucifer’s.

The sense of being wanted. The feeling that somebody out there wanted to mate with him, wanted Adam to be their Omega, had him warming up. A wetness formed between his thighs, making him rub them together.

Breaking the kiss, Adam was dazed and needy. He’s eyes were dilated and glassy, large and reflective. Lucifer purred, brushing his fingers over Adam’s cheeks with an even wider smirk. His long serpent body rattled, and he swiftly swirled himself around Adam’s body, caging the failed Omega against him. Lucifer’s clawed hands crossed over Adam’s chest, rubbing the hidden flesh through his sweater. His sharp claws pinching at the cotton fabric, slicing the threads little by little.

“Addie~” he sang teasingly, nuzzling his face into the Omega’s neck. His lips ghosted along the warm skin and soon his tongue licked across the exposed mating glands, making Adam gasp. “I can smell your slick~”

“My – my what?” Adam squawked, blinking his eyes furiously. His heart skipped a beat as he shakingly took in the sight of the feather and scaly snake body had coiled itself around him.

A hungry giggle escaped the feathered serpent Nephilim. Lucifer tilted his head, allowing his long fork-tongue to slither out. He ran it down Adam’s throat, tracing the macules and flickering at the collar of Adam’s sweater.

“Your slick. It’s strong.” Lucifer cooed, his right clawed hand crawling down Adam’s front and stroking his stomach. “It smells divine, it’s making my mouth water~”

Adam squirmed immediately as the wetness between his legs intensified. So that must be ‘slick’ and gosh, his face warmed up at the words. He quivered as Lucifer’s other hand continued to caress his chest through the fabrics, Adam’s eyes falling to watch the two hands anxiously. A knot began to form within his gut and his breath hitched further as Lucifer’s right hand sunk further down, sliding over his stomach fully and rest just above the area that contained Adam’s Omega-hood.

Releasing a range of rattle purrs, Lucifer continued to lick at Adam’s neck. His lips brushing repeatedly against the untouched Omega glands, enjoying the way his mate gasped and trembled from the actions. The clawed hand that was sneaking down Adam’s body finally reached the flimsy waistband of his mate’s black pyjama pants but instead of using inside like Lucifer originally aimed for, he immediately cupped Adam through his trousers.

A startled yelp escaped Adam, and he squirmed even more within the snake coiled grip, but Lucifer held tightly and secured. A wave of something new washed over Adam’s body as Lucifer abruptly began to rub his hand firmly between his legs, giggling as Adam reacted to the actions with delight.

Taking advantage of Adam’s reaction, Lucifer’s other hand slipped underneath Adam’s sweater. All the hairs upon Adam’s body stood up on end as Lucifer’s hand touched his chest somewhat aggressively.

“You’re so cute, Addie~” Lucifer hummed, resting his chin on Adam’s shoulder. “I’ve been dreaming of the day I get my hands on you~”

Adam’s breath hitched, making his throat burn and his eyes grow so wide that he feared they would pop out. His hips arched as Lucifer continued to caress him between his thighs, his legs trembled and the tingling knot deep inside his gut increased, growing tighter and tighter.

“You have? But why?” Adam gasped, his own mouth beginning to water with too much saliva. Where did it all come from?

A laugh bubbled from Lucifer, the pretty feathers of his body fluttering and scales glittering. Lucifer nuzzled his face into Adam’s throat again, pressing butterfly kisses along the soft flesh. “I don’t know what it is for you mortals, but for ones like myself, we mate for life. We can only court once in our lives. The moment I scented you, I committed my full soul, heart and body to you and you alone~”

“Oh…” Adam began quietly.

Smirking widely, Lucifer’s long fangs peeking out from his cherry-red lips, his hands continued to fondle his adorable mate. He pulled Adam’s sweater up, forcing his chest to be exposed and immediately grabbed the right breast. While his long-wet tongue extended over his shoulder and began to lick at the left breast. His eyes crinkled at the corners and became hooded with desire, the taste of Adam’s flesh was delicious. So much better than he could ever have imagined.

Licking his lips with a hiss, Lucifer twisted himself around Adam’s left side, slithering himself underneath Adam’s arm. His lips contacted the exposed skin and Adam released an embarrassing cry. He kissed softly the tender skin, rolling his tongue across the skin and even sucking a little.

Adam wheezed and clenched his teeth together, unsure of what to do. It felt good but it was all so overwhelming and making Adam feel rather lightheaded. It was just yesterday morning that Adam was depressed and heartbroken, thinking the only person who he could ever be with didn’t want him at all but now, hours later, he was tangled up and being touched by his apparent mate.

Lucifer gazed up at Adam’s face as he sucked upon the exposed flesh. A dark glint appeared within his gold and ruby eyes; the hand nested between Adam’s legs slid upward. He dipped his hand down his trousers and touching him again. Lucifer purred when Adam jumped in surprise and released a rather loud moan.

“You sound so pretty~” Lucifer purred, working Adam over tenderly and delicately. “You sound so nice, Addie. You really do.”

With another cry, Adam’s hips arched and everything inside him jolted. The tight knot unravelled vastly, leaving Adam out of breath and shaking. His vision blurred, stars shimmering across his sight.

With a devilish grin, Lucifer pressed closer to Adam's neck, his lips grazing the delicate Omega glands, sending shivers down Adam's spine. His grip softened, transforming into a tender embrace as he cradled the fallen Phoenix Omega in his arms. The serpent godling's sinuous form coiled around Adam, caressing his neck with gentle nuzzles that trailed upward, their cheeks brushing in an intimate dance. Lucifer’s intoxicating pheromones enveloped Adam, marking him as his own, a possessive and primal act of claim.

Adam’s vision blurred, his body a blend of numbness and warmth. As Lucifer captured his lips in a kiss, it was sweet, tender, and brimming with a gentleness that contrasted his usual cruel demeanour. When their lips parted, the sharp, predatory smirk that usually adorned Lucifer’s face melted into something softer, more affectionate—a loving smile that radiated from his captivating eyes. A low, purring rattle emanated from Lucifer, a sound akin to a contented serpent, as his golden curls shimmered with vibrant, iridescent feathers that fanned out like a hummingbird’s wings. Adam’s breath caught in his throat, utterly entranced by the ethereal beauty of the feathered serpent godling before him.

But then, a sudden gust of fresh air swept through the temple, dispelling the stifling heat and Lucifer's enchanting pheromones. Adam blinked, his senses slowly returning as the sacred stones were cleansed by the breeze. He squinted, glancing around in confusion as clarity and fear crept back into his mind.

Oh Quetzalcoatl... What had he done? What had he allowed himself to be swept into?

He had broken the sacred laws of Pentagram City, trespassed onto sacrificial grounds, and ascended the temple of Quetzalcoatl. He had committed treason, and the consequences would be severe—he would be torn apart if he descended. The Jorogumo warriors were likely already lying in wait, ready to capture him and exact their cruel retribution.

Worse still, he had desecrated the temple of Quetzalcoatl. He had allowed himself to indulge in something forbidden, something sacred. Lucifer could very well be the divine offspring of Quetzalcoatl himself, a holy being sent to deliver the next stage of destiny to Pentagram City. If Quetzalcoatl had not returned in his own form but sent his Nephilim son instead, it meant Lucifer was to fulfil this year's covenant with the people. And Adam... Adam had touched him, kissed him, allowed himself to be marked by him.

Holy gods. He was doomed. He had practically defiled Lucifer in the eyes of the elders! The punishment would be swift and merciless. They would deem him unworthy, a failed Phoenix, an unfit Omega, and he would be executed so Lucifer could find a more suitable mate.

Lucifer, who had been nuzzling into Adam with blissful contentment, barely had time to register Adam’s sudden panic. His golden and ruby eyes widened in surprise, round as an owl’s, as he tumbled to the temple floor in a dishevelled heap of serpentine coils and puffed-out feathers.

"Adam?" he called out, confusion lacing his voice as he pushed himself up from the stones, his sharp fangs glinting as they protruded from his lips. "Adam?"

The failed Phoenix stumbled to a halt in the archway, his gaze lingering on Lucifer as he bit his bottom lip. This was everything he had ever dreamed of— the boy who had promised to be his mate returning to fulfill that promise, a chosen mate who was more than he could have ever hoped for, a god himself. He yearned to return to Lucifer's warm embrace, but fear gripped him—fear of what Pentagram City would do to him once they discovered his transgression with Lucifer.

With a thick swallow, Adam turned and ran through the archway, his heart pounding with anxiety. The burning light of the sun blinded him, but he refused to look down at the walls, terrified of seeing the Jorōgumo warriors readying themselves to capture him. All he could think of was getting home, back to his flat where he could hide away, lick his wounds, and nurse his second broken heart. He would dream of the mate and the love he could have had if only he had been worthying.

Lucifer watched Adam flee, a disappointed growl rumbling deep in his throat. It took only moments for him to untangle his serpentine body, his clawed hands smoothing down his feathers as he straightened. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of his right claw—the one he had used to caress Adam—and he brought his finger to his lips, licking it thoughtfully.

Adam had rejected him? Adam had run away from him? No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t allowed. Adam was his. Adam was his mate. He wasn’t allowed to change his mind. Lucifer’s blood and soul screamed for only one mate, and he had chosen Adam.

With a determined huff, Lucifer licked his fingers clean and slithered toward the archway, the bright sunlight barely fazing him as he poked his head out, gazing over the city his father had created.

“So, this is Pentagram City?” he clicked his tongue in distaste. “I expected something bigger.”

Lucifer's skin crackled and snapped, a sinister symphony echoing down the winding staircase as his eyes narrowed, sharp and unforgiving. His fork-tipped tongue slipped out like a serpent’s kiss, tasting the air, while the tip of his tail rattled with anticipation. Through the dim light, he glimpsed the silhouette of Adam, hastily descending the golden steps, his every movement betraying his desperation.

With a sudden, violent twitch, Lucifer's body surged, and from his back erupted six magnificent wings, their beauty both terrifying and divine. They stretched out along his spine, extending all the way to the base of his rattle-tailed form, a display of dark splendor. A low, rumbling purr escaped his lips as his clawed hands curled around the edge of the top step. Leaning forward, his shoulders rose, framing his face as his blood-red eyes flared with predatory hunger. The spider-like women clinging to the walls of his father’s domain caught his gaze, their presence only deepening his hunger.

"Ah," he murmured, arching his wings wide, feeling the power ripple through them as he tested their strength. It had been far too long since he had flown in this form, a form both glorious and deadly. "Adam’s about to stumble into a web of trouble, and I haven’t feasted in such a long time..."

With a graceful, effortless motion, Lucifer launched himself into the sky. His wings beat with a speed that outpaced a bullet, carrying him swiftly through the air, unseen and unstoppable. For whom could ever hope to spot the Nephilim coming? After all, Lucifer was the very child of the winds, an omen of doom that none could escape.

~#~

It was a strange sensation, one that Adam couldn’t quite explain. An inexplicable surge of energy pulsed through him, propelling his legs faster than they’d ever moved before. He leaped down the temple steps, his skin tingling with a sense of foreboding, as if unseen eyes were watching him from above. Yet, every time he glanced upward, he found nothing but darkness.

The failed Phoenix dashed across the sacrificial grounds, his heart pounding in his chest. He sprinted straight through the night sky's twinkling pathway, eyes fixed on the ancient wall of Quetzalcoatl. His throat burned, his nostrils flaring as if inhaling fire. Suddenly, a chill sliced through him when he glimpsed the silhouette of a Jorōgumo warrior near the wall. But as he drew closer, the shadowy figure vanished as though it had never been there. Had he looked more closely, he might have noticed the fresh blood staining the ground beneath his feet, but fear blinded him to the signs.

His heart raced, pounding a relentless rhythm in his chest, urging him not to stop. And so he didn’t. He skidded forward, dropping to his knees, scrambling across the cold stone. Unaware, he crawled beneath the statue of Quetzalcoatl, his hands outstretched, reaching for safety. Just as he pulled himself through, the waiting Jorōgumo warrior, hidden in the shadows, barely had time to scream before being snatched away by a blur in the sky. Adam blinked in confusion; his breath ragged as he glanced around.

"Where did all the Jorōgumo go?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, wincing as his fingers brushed over his sensitive Omega glands. Startled, he jerked his hand away, stumbling to his feet, and began to speed walk toward the border of Pentagram City.

"Maybe they didn’t notice me," he whispered to himself, picking up his pace.

 His eyes brightened as he spotted other creatures of the city going about their daily business. It seemed no one had noticed him sneaking past the walls. Maybe he really was lucky! Perhaps Lilith herself had taken pity on him, distracting her clan just long enough for him to slip by unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to Adam, the Jorōgumo warriors were being silently picked off behind him, one by one, by a shadowy figure darting through the sky. Oblivious to the chaos, he zigzagged through Pentagram City, his legs burning as he jogged past the crowds. His ears rang with the echo of his own heartbeat, so heavy and fast that it made him dizzy. But still, Adam didn’t pause, driven by a desperate need to return to the safety of his rundown flat.

When his apartment building finally came into view, Adam nearly wept with relief. His eyes glistened with tears as he slowed to a walk, sweat trickling down his clammy skin. He leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. But his relief was short-lived. A cold dread washed over him as he felt a hand on his backside.

Adam's eyes widened in horror as he shot upright and spun around, only to find himself face-to-face with the seedy Alpha Minotaur. The very same Alpha who delighted in stalking him, his eyes gleaming with sinister intent.

"Not today," Adam choked out, his chest still heaving as he tried to push past the brute. "I'm in no mood for your bullshit."

"That's a bit harsh," the Minotaur growled, his voice a smoky rumble that sent a shiver through Adam's spine. His massive, calloused hand clamped around Adam's arm, effortlessly pulling him closer. "Considering I'm your last shot at any kind of courtship, don’t you think you should be a little sweeter to me?"

Adam stared; disbelief plastered across his face. The audacity of this asshole. He struggled in vain to break free from the Minotaur’s iron grip. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I heard all about the Jorōgumo turning you down. I tried to warn you," the Alpha murmured with a smug smile, leaning in close to exhale a cloud of musky breath across Adam’s face. "A Jorōgumo would never go for something as weak and delicate as you."

Ignoring the sting of the insult, Adam glared at the Alpha Minotaur, his eyes dark with anger. "Let. Go. Of. Me."

"I’m offering you a chance—what every Omega dreams of. I’m a strong Alpha, I could take real good care of you!" The Minotaur’s grip tightened around Adam’s slender arm. "Better than that spider freak, anyway."

Adam swallowed the growl rising in his throat, still struggling to wrench his arm free. "Fuck off!"

"Oh, you’ve got spirit!" the Minotaur bellowed with laughter, finally releasing Adam and sending the Phoenix Omega stumbling backward. "You’ll come around eventually. They always do."

Disgust twisted Adam's features as he sneered. "I might be unwanted by nearly everyone in Pentagram City, but even I have standards. Even I, a failed Phoenix, deserve better than a fuckhead like you!"

Without giving the Minotaur a chance to respond, Adam spun on his heel and stormed away. His eyes began to sting with unshed tears, but he refused to cry in front of that asshole Alpha. His arm throbbed from the Minotaur’s grip, but Adam was damned if he’d let that assclown know he’d hurt him. No fucking way.

As he approached his apartment building, something slithered down from above, and in an instant, the Minotaur was yanked into the air by his horns. His startled scream was cut off before it could even begin.

Adam all but collapsed against the door, his chest heaving as he stared blankly at his dimly lit flat. The tension in his body began to unravel, and he slowly slid down the door until his backside hit the floor, his head resting heavily against the wood behind him. Safe at last, surrounded by the familiar shadows of his home, Adam found himself drawn irresistibly to his comfort nest.

He crawled across the floor, each movement more desperate than the last, until he reached the nest of tangled sheets and blankets. With a swift, almost frantic motion, he threw himself into it, cocooning his trembling body within the soft layers.

As he lay there, the tension slowly drained from his stiff muscles, and the whirlwind of emotions he'd been holding at bay finally surged forward. The memories of the past few hours crashed down on him, leaving him breathless. A childish squeal of disbelief escaped his lips as he covered his face with both hands, rolling onto his side and curling into a tight ball.

"Holy shit," he whispered, peeking through his fingers as if the darkness might somehow confirm the impossible. "Did that really happen?"

Had he truly ventured all the way to the temple? Had he really committed treason, defying every law he knew, and scaled the temple’s sacred crown? And more unbelievable still—had he stood before the Godling of Quetzalcoatl, the Nephilim himself? Was any of it real?

Had he really met Lucifer? And had Lucifer truly touched him like that?

Adam's breath hitched, his disbelief mounting with every question. Could the kind boy he’d met all those years ago have been the Nephilim of Quetzalcoatl?

His breath shook, a tremor of doubt seeping into his thoughts. There was no way it had all happened... right? It had to be in his head. Maybe he’d never left his nest, and all of it had just been some vivid, twisted dream. That seemed more likely, but then…there was wetness still between his legs. The evidence was still inside his pyjamas.

Adam groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, desperate to believe it had all been a dream. His heart pounded with worry because if it wasn’t… he had pushed Lucifer away and fled like a coward. Who knew what the Nephilim would do now?

As he nestled deeper into the comforting embrace of his nest, the exhaustion of being up all night finally caught up with him. His thoughts began to blur, his breathing gradually slowing as sleep claimed him. How long he slept, he couldn’t say, but when he awoke, the light outside his grimy windows was already fading into twilight.

Whining softly, Adam rubbed his tired eyes and sat up, his hair a tousled mess. Even after sleeping, he still felt drained, as if he could easily slip back into slumber. But something wasn’t right. What had woken him up? The flat looked as it always did, nothing out of place.

Shrugging off the unease, Adam lay back down, burrowing into his blankets once more. Just as he was about to drift off again, a faint tapping reached the edge of his consciousness. At first, he ignored it, thinking it was just the rain. But the sound persisted, almost rhythmic in nature.

His eyes snapped open, annoyance bubbling up as he sat up and listened more intently. The tapping was coming from his window? But even with the shoddy glass, Adam could tell there was nothing on the other side—not even a drop of rain. His brows furrowed in confusion as he crawled toward the wall, yawning and accidentally bumping his forehead against the cold surface.

Groaning, Adam rubbed his forehead before pulling himself to his feet. He grumbled under his breath as he repeated his usual morning ritual, tugging at the stiff, worn-out latch. The hinges creaked loudly in protest as he forced the window open.

He peered out into the darkening city, stretching out a hand to feel for rain, but there was nothing. His head lolled against the window frame, his eyelids growing heavy again. There was nothing out there, and he was so tired—he could just doze off like this and—

"Hi, Adam!"

Adam’s eyes flew open in shock, freezing in place as a face suddenly appeared inches from his own. Black and green claws gripped the top of the window, and a familiar, mischievous head hung upside down, grinning at him.

Adam stared into Lucifer’s ruby and golden eyes, his groggy mind struggling to catch up. Lucifer? It was Lucifer! The Nephilim of Quetzalcoatl! His supposed mate—the one Adam had shoved away and abandoned at the temple. A startled yelp escaped his throat as he stumbled backward, landing on his backside. Meanwhile, Lucifer, with impressive agility, wiggled through the small window, his grin never faltering. The Nephilim slipped inside, his long tail snaking in after him, rattling as it stretched all the way across the room, revealing just how unnervingly long it was.

"You have wings?!" Adam squawked in surprise, his voice breaking.

Lucifer hummed contentedly, his twinkling eyes surveying the room until they settled on Adam's nest. A wide grin spread across his face as he immediately slithered toward it, nuzzling himself into the makeshift walls of pillows, cushions, and sheets.

"Hmm?" Lucifer murmured, patting down the pillows as his six wings fluttered on either side of him. "Of course I do~ All my brothers and sisters have Father's wings~"

Adam crawled backward until his back hit the wall, his eyes wide with shock. "You… You didn’t have them before."

"I can retract them!" Lucifer replied cheerfully, his wings suddenly straightening before folding back into his body, disappearing seamlessly into the feathers and scales. "See~"

Adam opened his mouth to respond but clamped it shut, his gaze shifting awkwardly—until he noticed something alarming. Red liquid. Everywhere. His eyes widened as he followed the trail of crimson from the floor to the walls, and finally, to his nest.

"You’re covered in blood!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with panic.

Cuddling an emerald, green pillow close to his chest, Lucifer buried his face in it, inhaling deeply. He snuggled the pillow and peered at Adam with half-lidded eyes. "Don’t worry. It’s not my blood."

Resisting the urge to snatch back his favourite pillow, Adam frowned deeply. "Whose blood, is it?"

"Ah, those Jorōgumo. They were planning to ambush you, but don’t worry! I dealt with them!" Lucifer chirped, his feathers fluffing up and the tip of his tail rattling with satisfaction. "Oh, and that annoying Alpha Minotaur. He touched what’s mine, and I don’t like sharing. So, I dealt with him too!"

It was as if Adam’s brain short-circuited at Lucifer’s unnervingly gleeful response. He blinked a few times, his mouth opening to speak but then clamping shut again. His gaze remained locked on Lucifer, who stared back at him while clutching Adam's favorite green pillow. Did Lucifer know it was Adam's favorite? Was that why the Nephilim held it so tightly, pressing his cheek against it and—was he sniffing it repeatedly?

"When you say you dealt with them…" Adam’s voice wavered as he asked.

Lucifer’s smirk widened, almost unnervingly, until he seemed like an entirely different creature. His rattlesnake tail swayed lazily behind him. "I ate them. Yes."

"You—you ate them?!" Adam gasped. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been such a revelation. Quetzalcoatl was a god of blood sacrifices and devouring flesh, so it made sense that his children would share the same… tastes.

"I was hungry," Lucifer shrugged, entirely unconcerned. "And they were there, so I figured why not? Killed two birds with one stone~"

Adam nodded slowly, trying to process the twisted logic. It made sense, he supposed, but still, a shudder of revulsion crept up his spine. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn’t hard~" Lucifer snorted, his eyes narrowing at Adam with a hint of judgment. "You’re my mate. I’ll always be able to sniff you out. No matter how far you run, I can pick up your scent anywhere. I just followed it to this building after I had my fill."

"Oh," Adam mumbled, glancing away, feeling weak. "Are you mad at me?"

"Absolutely!" Lucifer chirped, his smile unnervingly wide and cheerful. He didn’t look angry at all. "I’m fuming! I’m so upset with you! You ran away from me! And pushed me off! That hurt so much, you know!"

Adam flinched at the overly cheerful tone, his stomach knotting with anxiety. Lucifer’s voice was light, but when Adam finally met his eyes, he saw it—the pure, simmering anger lurking behind that deceptively happy expression.

"I’m sorry," Adam said, leaning forward without actually approaching the feathered serpent. "I’m sorry. I just panicked."

Lucifer grunted, tilting his head curiously. "Why would you panic? You’re my mate; I’d never hurt you."

"Okay, I—I know that. And I’d never hurt you either." Adam’s cheeks warmed as he spoke, feeling a bit bashful. He doubted he could ever actually harm Lucifer, but saying it seemed to make Lucifer relax slightly. "But you have to understand, you’re a Nephilim, the son of my god. How did you expect me to react? I’m nothing special. I’m not even a fully reformed Phoenix, and you’re telling me my mate is a Godling? It was just… too much."

Lucifer’s expression softened, his head tilting further as he seemed to digest Adam’s words. He hummed thoughtfully and let out a soft sigh. "Okay. I can understand that, so I’ll let it slide this time. But don’t ever do that to me again—I won’t be so forgiving."

"Right…" Adam nodded sheepishly. "I really am sorry."

"Hmm?" Lucifer purred, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eye, one clawed finger beckoning Adam closer. "If you’re really sorry and want to make it up to me, you’ll come over and snuggle with me~ I’ve always wanted to see your nest, Addie~"

Without thinking, Adam climbed to his feet, drawn to Lucifer like a moth to a flame. He found himself standing at the edge of his nest, staring down at Lucifer. But as he looked into those mischievous eyes, he narrowed his own and frowned.

Lucifer immediately pouted, raising both arms to Adam like a child wanting to be picked up. "Come on, Addie~ Let’s cuddle. I wanna snuggle you~"

"No," Adam said firmly, planting his hands on his hips. "Not when you’re covered in blood."

A sharp smirk returned to Lucifer’s lips, and his long, serpentine tongue flicked out playfully. "Well, then you better come clean me~"

"C-Clean you?" Adam stammered, his eyes widening. "You don’t mean…"

Lucifer’s grin widened, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he stretched out luxuriously in the nest, his voice dripping with suggestive mischief. "Oh, but I do~"

“…I’ll find a sponge or a flannel.” Adam muttered, beginning to turn his head away.  

“Why would you need those?” Lucifer questioned, catching Adam’s wrist with his snake-tail.

Adam blinked down at him. “To…clean you?”

“Oh no~” with one tug, Lucifer pulled Adam on top of him. “We don’t clean ourselves like that, Addie~”

“…and…how do you want me to clean you?”

Lucifer purred, sliding his arms around Adam’s middle. He rubbed them purposely up and down Adam’s back. His long tongue licked at Adam’s lips.

“You need to use your tongue~”

----

Lilith – Jorōgumo - Alpha

  Origin: Japan

  Description: A spider that can transform into a beautiful woman to lure and devour men. Jorōgumo is a blend of beauty and danger, often featured in ghost stories.

Lucifer – Quetzalcoatl's younglin – Omega

  Origin: Mesoamerica

  Description: A feathered serpent god associated with wind, air, and learning. Quetzalcoatl is one of the most important deities in Aztec culture.

Adam – Phoenix – Omega

  Origin: Ancient Greece, Egypt, and Persia

  Description: A magnificent bird that is cyclically reborn from its ashes, symbolizing immortality, renewal, and the sun.

[grilledcheezy92]

Apparently I'm not done yapping about the Alexis at the Summit.

"Look who it is. Sam’s latest conquest. What an honor. Yes. “Mates”, as you love to remind people. Cute."

Bitch you fucking know what they feel for each other through the gods damned Maker's bond.

It's so fascinating how much of a façade she's putting up in meeting Darlin for the first time. It's almost crystal clear she's still so down bad for Sam. But because he wants nothing to do with her, she's suffering and lashing out like the spoiled selfish princess she's been for half a damn century.

"How many years would you two really have before someone sees you together and assumes he’s your son instead of your “mate”?"

"... If you want to roll around with the dogs, then I’d just as soon stay away from the smell anyway."

The pause before she 'agrees' to stay away from Darlin cannot be accurately conveyed in text form. Tori did an AMAZING job charging that pause with unspoken true emotion and putting a wall back up.

[vickyvicarious]

On the summit of the East Cliff the new searchlight was ready for experiment, but had not yet been tried. The officers in charge of it got it into working order, and in the pauses of the inrushing mist swept with it the surface of the sea. Once or twice its service was most effective, as when a fishing-boat, with gunwale under water, rushed into the harbour, able, by the guidance of the sheltering light, to avoid the danger of dashing against the piers. As each boat achieved the safety of the port there was a shout of joy from the mass of people on shore, a shout which for a moment seemed to cleave the gale and was then swept away in its rush.

The searchlight is important as a plot device to allow us to 'see' how Dracula brings the ship to land even in the midst of the storm. But in-universe, this is another lovely moment of people being good to one another. They are all invested in saving whoever they can from the storm (Dracula), they cheer at each victory. Loud enough to "cleave the gale" (to halt him) for a moment each time, before their voices are overwhelmed again.

This is also another moment of modernity/technology against ancient magic/nature*. The searchlight is new, operating it is an experiment. And the use of this bright modern light is able to cut through the darkness Dracula has brought, to save people from the death he would have brought them. Of course, none of them are his targets and if they were this wouldn't have worked, but just as background characters saving other background characters helps support the theme of people helping one another, I think Dracula's focus on his own needs leading to plenty of deaths he might not even notice or care about is really consistent with his role in the story. He's the main villain, he's a monster who causes very direct and personal pain, yes. But he's also a vector. Suffering and death travels with him. Sometimes he causes it, almost casually (the mother he killed), sometimes he doesn't even particularly notice it (the people who die in this storm), sometimes it is a ripple effect from something he deliberately did (I shan't say right now). But even before his physical arrival in Whitby, the clouds gather overhead, the ominous tone builds - and now that he is here, things will go wrong. It's just what happens around him. But it can be stopped. At least some of it. At least some people can be saved, and that's reason enough to cheer... even if your voices are lost in the gale again shortly after.

(Speaking of: Dracula as the storm. The storm silencing people's voices. Themes~)

* Though the caveat here is always of course that Dracula himself is being innovative/modern too, in his own way. He's crossing running water, all by himself! In fact, it's possible the searchlight helps guide him in to shore better as well, and if so that plays into a whole nother thing about people trying their best and Dracula taking advantage to harm others. And then those who know feel guilty about their role as his unintentional/coerced aid...

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

My Headcanon for Why Emps Banned Religion

I have read none of the books with a heavy Emps focus but I have read a lot about them, including various excerpts, and obviously that's enough to qualify me for making headcanons about him. So here's my big theory:

The religion ban had nothing to do with Chaos, and everything to do with the Emperor himself.

Listen. Listen. We have three facts:

The Emperor is a 38,000-year-old psyker created to defend humanity against Chaos who has dealt directly with the gods. There is no way he doesn't understand how they work.

The Emperor made a deal with Chaos but failed to keep his end of the bargain. This bargain allowed him to create the primarchs, but it also empowered him personally.

The Emperor is the entity prophesied to become the Dark King, the fifth Chaos God.

I think the Emperor was trying to prevent his own ascension by banning religion.

Humanity has a fairly strong connection to the Warp; it's slowly evolving into a psyker species. A single, non-psyker human won't have much effect, but if billions and billions of humans believe the same thing, it will affect the Warp.

Now, pause for a moment and think about what it would be like to encounter the Emperor. I don't just mean walking up to the guy and shaking his hand, I mean just seeing him and being in his vicinity. You're gonna get knocked on your ass by the most intense Warp aura you will ever feel in your life. To put things in perspective, in one of the HH books, Lion makes an entire room of men kneel just by walking in the room. The Emperor is exponentially more powerful than any of the primarchs. The dude hangs out with blanks because they're just too weak to hurt him.

A lot of people are going to process that encounter as a religious experience.

Now, obviously the vast majority of the Imperium's population are never going to see the Emperor. But millions and millions of people will still go through this experience. We don't see much of this because the HH series takes place when the Emperor retreats to Terra to work on the Webway. Prior to that, he would have been a public figure--giving speeches, holding triumphs, leading armies, going to summits, etc etc etc. There would be a steady stream of people walking away shaken to the core because they decided to go to a big parade or whatever.

Now, add to that his utopian mission (the Imperium will unify the galaxy and create a golden age of humanity! yay!), the cult of personality, and the fact that some planets really would have greeted the Imperium's arrival with joy...

Look, someone's gonna start a new religion. Maybe multiple someones. And you had better believe it's gonna spread because "huh that there is some kind of divine being" is a pretty understandable response to Big E and his Slightly Less Big Sons.

Thing is, the Big E in question knows about the Dark King prophecy, knows how the warp works, and knows he's as much a Warp entity as he is human. If increasing number of humans believe that he's a god, all that belief is gonna pour into the Warp, and eventually it's gonna affect the very nature of his being. Him, who already has prophecies about a divine ascension floating around. GEE WOW COULD THESE THINGS BE RELATED, WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN NEXT.

The Emperor really, really doesn't want to become a Chaos god. The Emperor is extremely anti-Chaos. So it is absolutely vital that no one starts worshipping him because the risk is too great, and too much is at stake.

The solution? Ban religion.

See, he can't just allow freedom of religion because statistically speaking, someone's gonna start worshipping him. And he can't start a state religion, because that associates his person with the official religion, and then he'll get turned into a saint or a minor god or something. For fucks sake, the Catherics still venerate St. Vladimir and they don't even know what Russia is! Yeah, official religion is straight out. Honestly, the big problem here is the whole tendency to worship giant miracle-working people with overwhelming Warp signatures. That's what really needs to be targeted. A vigorous program of rationality combined with a strict ban on religion will discourage both the practices and the thought processes that lead to Emperor worship. Humanity will learn to trust SCIENCE and FACTS rather than seeking comfort from silly old superstitions. That is definitely how human psychology works.

The downside of this policy is that he cannot acknowledge Chaos. Acknowledging that big spooky supernatural entities with godlike powers exist severely undermines the whole premise. But the aftershocks of Slaanesh's birth have mostly worn off by now, the Warp is pretty quiet these days, and frankly speaking there is so much Weird Shit in the Materium that the occasional daemon can be written off as wacky xenos hijinks. Plus, the general drive away from religion will also drive humanity away from Chaos worship. It's a bit of a gamble to deny Chaos, but all things considered it's a safe one.

So Emps bans religion and starts his totally-not-a-religious Crusade to unify the galaxy and find his sons. Everything is going great! Chaos has barely made a peep and rationality is blossoming on all the human planets. The way things are going, Emps might even get a head start on that Webway--

Uhhhhhhh. That's. That's a nice religion you invented there, newly-found son. You know it's gonna have to go in the trash, right? Atheism is kind of our thing.

what is this what are you writing about

LORGAR WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?

Yeah so Emps flips the fuck out. This is literally what he was trying to avoid, and it is the worst case scenario. Not only has an Emperor-worshipping religion sprung up, but one of his sons--y'know, the insanely charismatic monstrosities with crazy Warp signatures that he made--is the one who started it! This has to be stopped, and it has to be stopped HARD. Breaking Lorgar isn't enough. Emps has to break his religion.

And you know the rest.

************************************************************************

LINGERING QUESTIONS:

Q: If Emps was so hellbent on preventing a religion from springing up around him, why did he build a cult of personality?

A: He's an authoritarian dick, of course he's going to build a cult of personality. And of course he's going to convince himself that the cult of personality is necessary, and that it won't conflict with his anti-religion agenda. That's how authoritarian dicks think.

Q: Then why was he ready to become the Dark Lord in TEatD II?

A: Damage control. Emps didn't have the power to take on All Of Chaos Wearing Horus. So if he didn't ascend, he'd be consigning humanity to subservience at best to extremely hostile entities. But if he did ascend, then he might still be able protect humanity even as a horrifying Warp monstrosity. The Emperor will always choose the option that (he thinks) is best for humanity even at the cost of himself. But that's a whole other post.

LAST TIME: Emps has a really fucked up sense of time.

NEXT TIME: Why is the Emperor Like That?

[roxygen22]

First Day of School

"My Little Cocoa Bean" Series

A/N: Reader inserts are minimal in this one. Reader stayed home with Baby Charlotte (aka Charlie) so Willy and Ben/Bean could have some 1:1 time before his first day of school.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Are you excited about your first day of school, Bean?" Willy asked as he walked through the park with his son. He took the day off to spend some quality time with the boy before he started kindergarten the next day.

Ben was slow to respond and fell behind Willy's pace. He stopped and looked back at the small boy. "Bean?"

Ben looked up at Willy, worry clearly etched in his features. He knelt down and rubbed Ben's arm in reassurance. Willy had anticipated some reticence since Ben had never spent a full day away from you or him.

"Papa," he said in a small voice. "Were you nervous on your first day of school?" The boy's lip trembled.

Willy carded a hand through Ben's curly hair, then rested it on his cheek. "Well, Bean, I didn't get to go to school. But, I have had other firsts. And yes, I was nervous every time."

"Like when?" Ben implored as if he could not imagine his papa being scared of anything.

Willy stood and paused to think. "Like my first day as a sailor. I lived on a boat as a child, sure, but that was on a calm river, not the open ocean. I remember standing on the dock staring up at the huge ship, knowing my life was about to change. I hadn't even climbed on board and I was already seasick just thinking about it." They started slowly ambling down the path again. "But, I did it anyway. After some time, I became a tip-top sailor, like I had been doing it all of my life, and got to see places that most people only dream of."

By that point, the pair had wandered to the base of their favorite hill in the park. Willy could see that Ben was still lost in thought. He needed to lighten the mood somehow.

"Hey, Bean?" he asked to get the boy's attention. Ben looked up solemnly. "Race ya!" Willy shouted gleefully and took off running up the hill. Temporarily stunned, Ben stared at him with wide eyes before chasing after him in a fit of giggles.

Winded, they lay in the grass at the summit to catch their breath and watch the clouds lazily drift by. The two took turns pointing out shapes of animals. After a bit, Willy continued his earlier lecture.

"It's perfectly normal to feel those nervous butterflies in your tummy on the eve of change."

"But I don't want anything to change," Ben lamented. "I won't get to play with Mamma and Charlie. I won't get to help you make new chocolate or candies."

"I know it will be different, but you can still come to the factory or shop after school or on the weekends. Your mother and Charlie will still be eager to play with you when you get home. I bet you'll even make new friends to play with at school. You'll find a new normal. Besides, life would be boring if nothing ever changed."

They turned their heads to look at each other. Willy booped him on the nose with his index finger and smiled. "You probably wouldn't be here if I hadn't gotten on that boat."

"Huh?"

"Well, seafaring allowed me to gather lots of exotic ingredients to make magical concoctions that set my chocolate apart from the rest. Without my shop, I wouldn't have met your mother, and we wouldn't have you, my little cocoa bean. And I'll let you in on a little secret," Willy lowered his voice to a whisper at the end. "I was nervous when I found out about you."

"You were?" Ben pushed himself up on his elbows to look down at Willy's face.

"Mmhmm. You made me a papa, Bean. I had never been a father, nor did I have one growing up. I'm learning how to be one every day. It's been my grandest adventure yet."

Ben smiled, then fell onto his back once more to watch the clouds float by.

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you did it anyway. Got on the boat, I mean, even though you were scared."

"Me, too, Bean. Me, too." Willy sighed contentedly.

A few beats passed.

"Papa?"

"Can we go get ice cream?"

Willy chuckled. "Ice cream sounds like the best idea ever."

☆☆☆☆☆

-next day-

You, Charlotte, and Willy walked Ben to school. Ben was bouncy and talkative, asking questions about your memories of your own first day of classes. The boy grew quieter, though, as the building came into view. He shrank behind Willy's leg as more parents and children gathered at the fence, waiting for the school to open.

Willy offered him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, then dropped to one knee to make eye contact. "Don't be shy. It's alright if you feel a little trepidation."

"But do it anyway," Ben parroted from the conversation the day before.

Willy smiled and wrapped the boy in a hug, "That's right, Bean. Do it anyway."

Ben then gave you and Charlotte hugs and kisses, gathered his bag, and started toward the door. He stopped at the bottom step to turn back and wave at you all. Willy blew a kiss and waved as you grabbed Charlotte's chubby little hand to help her wave back. Tears came to your eyes when you saw Ben turn back to the door, pull his shoulders back and head up with confidence, and walk inside.

Still so small, yet so big, so fast, you thought to yourself. You looked to Willy as he wiped fat tears from his cheeks with his silk scarf. He barely maintained his composure until Ben was out of sight.

"I'm going to miss having him around during the day," Willy said with a sniffle.

"As will I, love. As will I," you replied softly.

Charlotte broke the melancholy with a coo. Willy chuckled and reached out to pluck her from her perch on your hip. "You, missy, aren't allowed to grow up that fast, understood?"

::raspberry::

"I'm glad we're in agreement."

☆☆☆☆☆

Masterlist

[di-in-al]

~Drifting Into Desire~ Katsuki Bakugou x Reader PART I

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After studying abroad in America, Y/N returns to Japan with big dreams and a degree in hand, only to find herself struggling to meet societal expectations. Pushed too far by her uncle Aizawa, she becomes entangled in the thrilling yet dangerous world of street racing, battling her own aspirations and rivalries. Particularly her rivalry with the King of Musutafu Pass, Katsuki Bakugou.

>Bakugou x Reader, Shinso x Reader

>Warnings: Profanity. Implied sex. Sexual themes. Smoking.

>Word Count: 2.7k.

>A/N: Hi! I've had this idea for a while. It's lightly based off of the anime Initial D, with our fav MHA characters. I'm planning on making this a series, so I hope you stick around for the ride!

>Tags: 18+ only + future smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + all characters are over the age of 21 + 1990's themed (No quirks) + repost + reader insert

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As the sweltering heat of summer began to wane, a refreshing chill hovered in the air, whispering promises of change. The whispers flew past your ears, picking up loose strands of hair and dancing with them. The drop top to your car has been tossed back, allowing you to see the changing leaves as they fall into the reckless abandon that is Musutafu Pass. A location renowned for its breathtaking vistas and winding roads that seemed to twirl gracefully around the mountain itself. 

As you navigated through winding rural roads, you felt the warm embrace of late summer still lingering around you, but as you ascended, the atmosphere shifted. Cool air swept in, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. It was a gentle reminder that the exuberance of summer was drawing to a close, making room for the crisp vitality of autumn.

Musutafu Pass is famous for its spiraling descent, a serpentine route that captures the thrill of driving while offering eye-popping views. The road twists and turns, encasing the mountain, each bend revealing a new perspective of the natural beauty surrounding it. This enchanting drive is not just a means of getting from point A to point B; it is an experience that invites you to become one with the landscape. This fact grabbed the interest of a certain group of people.

Street Racers.

As you reached the base of Musutafu Pass, the sun began its slow descent, determined to rest its eyes for the day. You accelerated with eagerness, your heart beating in rhythm with the car’s engine. The drive up the mountain brought forth a sense of childlike excitement, reminiscent of road trips taken in the blissful days of youth. Each turn felt exhilarating as the sprawling hillsides moved closer and the golden leaves began their transformation, shifting from deep greens to vibrant shades of orange, red, and yellow.

Along the way, you paused to absorb the views. Each glance outward revealed a canvas painted by nature, where the late afternoon sun highlighted the rugged terrain. The mountains stood proud, their craggy peaks contrasting sharply against the fiery hues of fall foliage. The air felt electric, teeming with anticipation as the landscapes shimmered in the waning light of the day.

It was a moment of serenity amidst an ever-busy world—a chance to breathe in the crisp mountain air while allowing nature’s beauty to captivate your senses. You took in the sounds around you: the rustling of leaves, the loud hum of your exhaust, and the gentle breeze dancing through the trees. Time seemed to stretch, inviting reflection on the passing seasons and their significance.

As you ascended further, the shadows grew longer and the chill in the air deepened. You felt the need to reach the summit quickly, not just to catch the views, but to relish the changing of the guard from summer to fall in this picturesque paradise. You accelerated slightly, eager to witness the breathtaking panorama that awaited you.

Upon reaching the top, you were rewarded for your journey. The expansive view opened up, revealing a majestic landscape of undulating hills and valleys, now cloaked in the warm colors of autumn. The setting sun hung low on the horizon, casting a golden glow that illuminated the spectacular transformation of the world below.

The hum of the engine faded to silence as you turned off the ignition, an intimate moment of calm before the chaos that always surrounded your passion. With a steady hand, you pulled the e-brake, feeling the weight of the car resting securely on the side of the mountain road. You stepped out, the cool air wrapping around you like a familiar old coat, both comforting and chilling. Your heart raced in tune with the memories of asphalt and adrenaline that flooded your mind.

A year had passed since you returned to Japan from America, where the rhythm of lectures and study halls echoed in your head like a forgotten melody. You had aimed to seize your life, to transform the dreams that danced just out of reach into a tangible reality. But the moment you set foot back on Japanese soil, the thrill of the classroom quickly faded, replaced instead by the weight of your uncle Shota’s expectations. 

Pulling a pack of cigarettes from your pocket, you ignited a flame, watching the red glow travel towards the burning tip with a sense of both resignation and rebellion. With each puff, you let the bitter smoke swirl around you, consuming the fears that danced at the corners of your mind. The ashes drifted away, disappearing into the abyss below, just like the plans you’d made for your future. 

Shota had questioned you relentlessly since your return. “When will you use that fancy education to get a real job?” he would ask. His voice bore the burden of disappointment, a reminder of every underachieving day spent behind the counter of a coffee shop rather than on the racetrack where you longed to be. To him, success had a defined shape—one of stability and societal approval. To you, it manifested in the rapid consumption of fuel and the roar of engines translating raw potential into sheer power. 

Yet despite the ticking clock of responsibility, your mind remained quenched by only one pursuit: racing. The siren call of the open road was an irresistible temptation—a seductive promise of freedom. It was the rush of drifting around corners, the exhilaration of overtaking competitors, and the sweet taste of victory that gnawed at you like a relentless itch. Racing wasn’t merely a passion; it was the cure for the noisome thoughts that crowded your brain. 

You stood at the edge of that mountain, gazing down the winding road that curled like a snake through the lush green valley. This was where it all happened. The thrill of racing wasn’t lost to memory; it pulsed within you. All of your thoughts converged here, each day propelling you closer to the moment when you could reintegrate your life and racing as one. 

But how?

When the roar of an engine beckoned you like a lover calling your name in the night. 

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of time pressing upon you. You took one last drag of your cigarette and flicked the glowing ember over the cliffside—a symbolic gesture of letting go of the ashes of expectations. You could stand still and succumb to your uncle’s pressure, or you could dare to awaken the engine of your soul. 

The choice danced in your mind like the tires that would soon grip the pavement. You took a deep breath, filled your lungs with the cold air infused with the scent of adventure, and exhaled the burdens of yesterday. 

With renewed resolve, you climbed back into your car, the familiarity of the leather seats embracing you as the engine roared back to life. The world outside thrummed against the cage of metal and glass, but within, your spirit soared. 

As you merged onto the winding road, a smile crept onto your lips. The race wasn’t just a distant dream but a promise to yourself. It was time to find your place in the world—one drift, one acceleration at a time. Everything else would have to wait; the siren song of racing was calling once again, and this time, you were ready to answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your pop up headlights whirred as they closed, causing a small grin to take over your face. The air had chilled even more, nipping at your cheeks as you made your way to the stairs up to your apartment. With a look over your shoulder, you noticed your roommate's car parked. Momo was probably long asleep by this point, her strict schedule having a death grip on her. 

You ascended the stairs, fumbling your keys to find the correct one. Unlocking the door, it swings open, surprising you with light flooding through. You step in, removing your shoes and replacing them with slippers. 

Momo must still be up.

As if she heard you, she comes around the corner from her room. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, and she peered at you with relaxed eyes. 

“You were out late. Running the pass?” She could read you like the back of her hand. 

The two of you had been best friends since grade school. By each other’s side until college approached. She attended UA University here in Mustafu, while you went abroad. 

“Yeah.” Was your quick response, and as you walked by, she scrunched her nose with disgust. 

“And obviously smoking cigarettes again.” With a scoff, she turns and retreats back to her room. You only gave a small chuckle as you stripped your jacket and hung it up. 

“It’s called an addiction for a reason.” She returns with a disgruntled look on her face, tossing a stack of papers in your direction. 

“Yeah, well, those can be broken,” She flipped through a couple pages before directing your attention to some models. “Here’s the modules you asked for. We can go out tomorrow and run them, see if they’re any good.” 

The two of you belonged to a street racing team known as Impact Velocity. IV for short.

A newer group, you guys just came together a little under a year ago. You decided to take a year to work on every dynamic before taking to the streets. 

“Once we're done, we should have a group meeting. I think we're close to being able to race.” You gave her a nod, and with that, she returned to her room. 

“Get some rest, Y/N. You look like you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since you came back.” Her motherly tone caused you to roll your eyes, and nod your head. 

“Thanks, mom. That’s a great morale boost.” Her chuckle floated through the air as her door clicked close. Taking a peek at the pile of papers in front of you, your eyes began to throb. A migraine was starting to form behind your eyes, and you took that as a sign to meander your way to the shower. 

The bathroom filled with steam as the water poured from the spout, the mirror reflecting an image of you undressing. Pulling your hair out of the confines of a claw clip, you brushed through it a couple times. Entering the hot shower, you hoped it would wash away the agonizing feeling of being in a constant tug of war with your own mind. 

It didn’t, but you hoped some shut eye might help. Reaching your room, you towel dried your hair as you pressed play on the voicemail, it shining bright with the number one. 

“Hey, it’s me.” Shinso. You threw the towel in the dirty clothes basket, and snatched up your pack of cigarettes. Waiting on him to continue, your feet pad over to the balcony attached to your room. 

“I haven’t seen you in a couple days, and I was… thinking about you today. If you are free tonight, I could swing by. Lemme know.” With that, the machine beeps and erases the message. The lit cigarette in your hand burned with each puff, the smoke swirling around and thankfully away from Momo’s room. 

Hmm. Hopping up on the balcony rail, your feet dangle in the cool breeze. You contemplate Shinso’s offer, knowing there was more behind his words than what the voicemail led on. 

He’d been a student of your Uncle’s, often coming over to the shared house of you and your uncle to study. You’d moved in with him while you got back on your feet, and had the chance to meet Shinso. He’d been timid at first, but eventually the two of you realized you had more in common than originally thought. He was a racer as well, a fact that was hidden to your uncle. 

Things quickly changed into something more. The two of you sneakily meeting up late at night and taking out frustrations on one another. Things didn’t change once you moved in with Momo, not wanting her to know about two teammates being intimate behind closed doors. You contemplated the voicemail, knowing you shouldn’t.

You finished your cigarette, tossing it and making your way back inside. You picked up the phone, dialing a familiar number. 

It rang once, then twice before it was picked up. 

“Hey, you.” Shinso’s husky voice answered the other end, and it sent a warm feeling straight to your core. Your cheeks heated up, and you tried to suppress the grin taking over your face. 

“Hey, you wanna head over?” Your voice seemed strong, even with your crumbling resolve. A chuckle rang out from the other end, and that only sped up your demise. 

“You know, you make me feel like a piece of meat when you get straight to the point like that. Shame on you.” On the other end, you could hear his car start up, almost as if he was waiting for your call.

His comment made you scoff, with a smile.

“You called me first!” You hush yelled, not wanting to alarm your ever watchful roommate. 

“I’m fucking with you, sweetheart. I’m on my way.” You let out a small ‘kay’, and hung up. Putting the phone back on the holder, you walked over to your bed and sunk down on it. Picking up your current read from your bedside table, you read to pass the time.

You could hear his Nissan 180sx from a mile away, but he was always careful to coast in neutral as he pulled up. You peeked out, watching as he silently exited his lavender colored car, tucking his keys away. He ran a strong hand through his half up purple locks, pushing pieces that had escaped out of his eyes. 

Climbing up a vine covered trellis, he landed on your balcony with a thud. His lavender eyes met yours, and a wicked grin crept up his face. 

“Lemme bum a smoke.” He asked, not taking a step into your room yet. Your eyes rolled back, leaning forward and setting your book down. 

“And you say I’m the one that uses you..” Your fingers pulled back the top of your cigarette pack, extending it towards him. He leaned forward, both hands on the balcony railing, and snagged one with his lips. He watched as you flipped open your zippo, and ignited it with a quick flick. You protected the flame from the harsh breeze with a cupped hand. His lazy eyes stayed latched onto your face as he puffed the cigarette to life. Leaning back, he peeled his eyes away from you and onto the city in the distance. 

“We gonna race soon?” Smoked flowed with his words, and you nodded. 

“Give it a couple weeks and I think we’ll be good to go. I need you to take a look into the Miata for me. Momo came up with a couple modules for me, and I think I’m gonna need some things tuned to fit.” He nodded his head, turning in your direction. A moment of silence passed as you tried to wrangle your fleeting thoughts. 

“What’s on your mind? I can hear your intruding thoughts from here.” You shook your head, and looked away. 

“Same old, same old.” You didn’t care to elaborate, him already having heard the tirelessly plaguing thoughts you always had. 

Fingers grasped your chin, turning towards him. His heavy lidded eyes peered down his nose at you, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. He coerced your jaw open, taking a long drag from the cigarette elegantly trapped between his pale fingers. 

Leaning forward, he exhaled smoke into your mouth, the nicotine sending your mind ablaze. His lips followed the smoke, carefully grazing your open lips. 

“Lemme help you forget it then, sweetheart.”

part II

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A/N: If you got this far, thanks! This was very wordy I know, but there's gonna be more interactions from this point forward. I'm hoping to update every Sunday night!

di-in-al <3