#THIS MAKES THEIR DYNAMIC SO MUCH INTERESTING

[julietsf1]

The Idiot I Call Mine - Lando Norris x BestFriend! Reader

summary: best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently. (7.1k words)

content: fluff! friends to lovers; flirty dynamic; mutual pining

an: whaaat? a fic about another driver? yes loves. this is me coming forward as a secret Lando fan. I hope you'll enjoy as much as I did writing this :)

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Lando Norris has this annoying habit of always being right. It’s not even about anything important—it’s just little things. Like the time he guessed exactly how long it would take before I caved and ordered dessert, or when he said I’d end up watching a rom-com tonight even though I claimed I wanted “something deep and meaningful.”

“See?” he said smugly, leaning back on the couch as the opening credits of The Holiday  played. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Hardly,” I shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You just know I have a weak spot for Jude Law. That doesn’t make you psychic.”

“No, but it does make me an excellent best friend.” He winked, plucking the popcorn off his lap and popping it into his mouth like the show-off he was.

I rolled my eyes, pretending I wasn’t fighting a grin. Lando and I had been inseparable for years, the kind of best friends who finished each other’s sentences and shared a borderline unhealthy obsession with late-night McDonald’s runs. But lately, something had been… different.

Not bad, exactly. Just different. Maybe? I wasn’t even sure to be honest. 

“You’re staring again,” Lando said, breaking into my thoughts. He was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest in a way that felt entirely too casual and yet completely deliberate. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, and his smirk was the kind that could make even the most confident person question their sanity.

“I wasn’t staring,” I lied, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in my mouth for good measure.

“You were absolutely staring,” he teased, leaning closer. “What’s on your mind, hmm? Thinking about how devastatingly handsome I am? It’s okay—you can admit it.”

“You’re such a joke,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably. “Devastatingly handsome? Please. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin. “And yet, here you are, spending your Friday night with me. Interesting choice.”

“I’m here for the popcorn,” I deadpanned, though even I didn’t believe myself. “And because you begged me.”

“I didn’t beg,” he protested. “I suggested strongly. There’s a difference.”

This was us—lighthearted insults, jokes at each other’s expense, and an ease in our conversations that felt like home. If there was something different lately, I told myself it was just my imagination running wild. 

“Speaking of choices,” I said, leaning back against the couch. “What’s the deal with you and your phone wallpaper?”

“What about it?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on, Lando,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You really expect me to believe you just happened to pick a picture of me for your wallpaper?”

“It’s a great photo,” he said with a shrug. “You look happy. And let’s not pretend your wallpaper isn’t me.”

I froze, caught. He was right—my wallpaper was him, but that wasn’t the point.

“That’s different,” I said quickly. “You look stupid in yours. It’s funny.”

“Ah, so I’m your personal clown now?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock offense. “Good to know my humiliation brings you joy.”

“Always,” I said sweetly, tossing another piece of popcorn his way.

The movie played on in the background, but neither of us was really paying attention. We were too busy pushing each other’s buttons, like always.

“Hey,” Lando said after a while, his tone a little softer. “You’re coming to dinner at Mum’s next weekend, right?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “She’s already planning the menu. Something with pasta, probably. You know how she gets when you’re coming over.”

I smiled despite myself. His family had always treated me like one of their own, and his mum had a knack for making me feel special in ways that were both comforting and overwhelming.

“Well, in that case,” I said, pretending to think it over. “I guess I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “I’d be bored without you there.”

It was moments like this—simple and familiar—that stuck with me longer than they should. The way he said things so casually, as if they didn’t carry any weight, even when they somehow did. 

“You’ve got something on your face,” I said suddenly, trying to distract myself.

“Where?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Right there,” I said, tapping the corner of my mouth.

He smirked, deliberately licking the spot where I’d pointed. “Better?”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” I said, shoving him away. But I was laughing, and so was he.

“You love it,” he said, and for once, I didn’t argue. Because maybe I did.

As the night went on, the teasing continued, each remark more loaded than the last. By the time the credits rolled, I wasn’t sure if it was the movie or Lando’s lingering glances that had me feeling so off-kilter.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he said, breaking the silence as he stood to clean up the popcorn bowl. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking,” I said vaguely, not meeting his gaze.

“About?” he pressed, leaning against the counter with a smirk that said he already knew the answer.

“Nothing important,” I said, grabbing my phone and pretending to scroll.

“Liar,” he said, his voice playful but probing. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know that?”

I glanced up at him, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had been doing lately. He was standing there like he had all the time in the world, his green eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Goodnight, Lando,” I said finally, brushing past him on my way to the couch.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

…

“You know, for someone who claims to be an athlete, you spend an alarming amount of time eating,” I said, glancing at Lando over the top of my menu.

“Carbs are fuel,” he replied, flashing me a grin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand that we could’ve gone somewhere normal instead of whatever this place is,” I said, gesturing to the overly fancy restaurant. The kind of place where the wine glasses sparkled brighter than the chandeliers, and the menu was full of words I couldn’t pronounce.

“You’re so ungrateful,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how hard it was to get a table here? I had to name-drop myself.”

“Wow,” I said dryly. “The struggle.”

“Exactly. And now you’re here, about to enjoy the finest pasta in town, thanks to me. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“Gratitude? You dragged me here under false pretenses. You said this was a ‘low-key spot.’”

“It is low-key,” he argued, gesturing around. “For Monte Carlo standards.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my face. This was just how things were with Lando—effortless, easy, and borderline ridiculous.

“Alright, what are you getting?” Lando asked, lowering his menu.

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” I said without hesitation.

“Of course you are,” he said, smirking. “Predictable.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I shot back. “What are you getting, then? Something groundbreaking? Life-changing? Revolutionary?”

“Tagliatelle al tartufo,” he said with a mockingly posh accent.

“Wow,” I said, feigning awe. “Truffle pasta. You’re really pushing the boundaries, Norris.”

“Don’t be jealous just because I have sophisticated taste,” he replied, the smirk never leaving his face.

“‘Sophisticated’ is one way to put it,” I muttered, pretending to study the menu again. “Another is ��pretentious.’”

“You’ll be begging for a bite,” he said confidently, setting the menu down.

“Please,” I said, scoffing. “You’ll be stealing mine before the plates even hit the table.”

He leaned forward, his grin widening. “You know me so well.”

The food arrived soon after, and, as predicted, we switched plates halfway through without even discussing it. It was second nature by now, like so many other things about us.

“You know,” Lando said, twirling a forkful of fettuccine, “if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out, I could be a food critic.”

“Sure,” I said, deadpan. “Because people are dying to know what Lando Norris thinks about pasta.”

“They would be,” he said, undeterred. “My palate is unparalleled.”

“Your palate consists of pizza, chicken nuggets, and whatever I’m eating,” I shot back.

“And yet, here we are,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Me, enjoying this culinary masterpiece, and you, enjoying my company. Life is good.”

It was shaping up to be another night of easy conversation and mindless teasing until a voice interrupted us.

“Lando?”

I looked up to see two women standing at the edge of our table. They were both tall, blonde, and effortlessly elegant, the kind of women who looked like they belonged in a magazine spread rather than real life.

“Oh, hey!” Lando said, his face lighting up in recognition.

I glanced at him, watching as his entire demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He straightened up, his grin widening just enough to make my stomach twist.

“We haven’t seen you in forever,” one of the women said, her smile bright and practiced.

“I know,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “It’s been a while.”

“You look great,” one of them said, her smile bright as she leaned in a little too close.

“So do you,” Lando replied, his tone polite but just warm enough to make me suddenly very interested in my water glass. The conversation floated around me, full of laughter and inside jokes I didn’t understand.

“And who’s this?” one of them finally asked, her gaze flicking to me with polite curiosity.

“This is Y/N,” Lando said, gesturing toward me with a casualness that felt too deliberate. “My best friend.”

Best friend. There it was again.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Likewise,” she replied, her tone perfectly pleasant.

They didn’t linger much longer—just enough to leave their mark before excusing themselves with a wave and a promise to “catch up soon.”

“Old friends of yours?” I asked once they were gone, my voice light but with a slight edge.

“Something like that,” Lando said, taking a sip of his water.

“Something like that?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “They’re sisters. I, uh… may have had a thing with both of them. At different times, obviously.”

My fork froze midair. “Both of them?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, laughing. “It’s not that weird.”

“It’s incredibly weird,” I said, shaking my head.

“I mean, it didn’t overlap or anything,” he added, as if that somehow made it better. “But yeah… sisters.”

I stared at him, equal parts amused and horrified. “That’s… impressive? I guess?”

“Thank you,” he said, grinning like he’d just been handed an award. “Think I should call them again?”

“Sure,” I forced a laugh, stabbing at my pasta. “And then ask if they have any other sisters you might’ve missed.”

He chuckled, clearly oblivious to the sarcasm in my tone. “Good idea. Always room for a hat trick.”

My stomach churned uncomfortably, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I focused on my plate, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way my mood had shifted.

…

The paddock was its usual chaotic self—teams rushing to prepare for practice sessions, fans peering over barriers for a glimpse of their favorite drivers, and media personnel darting between interviews. I decided to escape the madness for a bit, heading toward the staff catering building for a much-needed coffee.

The line was mercifully short, but as I joined it, I noticed someone already waiting near the front. Tall, dark-haired, and wearing a Ferrari polo with his name—Marco—stitched neatly on the chest. He turned slightly, catching my eye and offering a polite smile.

“Busy morning?” he asked, his tone warm and conversational.

“Something like that,” I replied with a small smile. “You?”

“Always,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But coffee makes it manageable, no?”

I nodded. “A universal truth.”

Marco stepped aside to let me order, a gesture so casual it almost went unnoticed. As I gave my order to the barista, I felt him glance at me again—not invasive, just curious.

“So, not Ferrari,” he said after I stepped back to wait for my coffee.

“Is it that obvious?” I joked.

“A little,” he admitted, his grin widening. “You’re far too relaxed to be one of us.”

“Should I be offended or flattered?” I asked, tilting my head playfully.

“Flattered,” he said easily. “Relaxed is a good thing.”

We fell into an easy rhythm as we waited. Marco was effortlessly charming, asking questions without prying and tossing in a few self-deprecating remarks about Ferrari’s chaos.

“You’re here with a team?” he asked eventually.

“A friend,” I said vaguely.

“Lucky friend,” he said, his tone light but genuine.

I laughed softly. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a familiar voice cut through the hum of conversation.

“There you are.”

I turned to see Lando approaching, his expression relaxed but his eyes sharper than usual.

“Hey,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were doing media.”

“Finished early,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flicked briefly to Marco, who stood quietly by my side. “And I figured I’d find you here.”

“Good instincts,” I said lightly, though something about his sudden appearance felt… deliberate.

Marco offered his hand to Lando, ever polite. “Marco. Ferrari engineering.”

“Lando,” he replied, shaking his hand. “McLaren driving.”

Marco chuckled. “I know who you are. Good to meet you.”

“You too,” Lando said, his tone friendly but with an edge I couldn’t quite place.

The barista called my name, and I turned to grab my coffee, giving them a moment to exchange polite words. By the time I returned, Marco was stepping away with his own drink.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, offering me a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Lando watched him go before turning back to me. “Who was that?”

“Marco,” I said simply.

“And what was Marco talking to you about?” he asked, his tone too casual to be entirely innocent.

I raised an eyebrow. “Coffee, mostly. Why?”

“No reason,” he said quickly, taking a sip of my drink.

I studied him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” he said defensively.

“You’re definitely acting weird.”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

“He was flirting,” Lando said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked. “He was being nice.”

“Nice,” Lando repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Lando, he’s just a guy who works for Ferrari,” I said, shaking my head.

“Exactly,” he said, as if that proved his point.

There was a beat of silence as I processed his words.

“You sound jealous,” I said finally, testing the waters.

“Jealous?” he scoffed, though the flicker of something in his eyes gave him away. “Hardly. I just think you can do way better than some guy who chats you up in the coffee line.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, smirking now.

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the warmth in my chest betrayed me.

We walked back toward the McLaren garage, his mood lightening with every step. By the time we arrived, he was back to his usual self—chatting with the mechanics and laughing at some joke I’d already missed.

But his words stayed with me, replaying in my mind as I sat down with my coffee. My coffee which Lando had somehow already drank half of. 

…

The McLaren lounge was a rare oasis of calm in the chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled past the windows, radios crackled with updates, and somewhere in the distance, an engine roared to life. But in here, it was all plush couches, soft lighting, and a distinct lack of urgency.

I was curled up on one end of the couch, flipping through a magazine, while Oscar and Lando lounged on the other side. Lando, as usual, couldn’t sit still. He was draped sideways over the armrest, absently spinning a water bottle in his hands.

“Alright,” Lando announced, breaking the comfortable silence. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?”

I looked up from my magazine, narrowing my eyes. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s an important question,” he insisted, his grin wide and mischievous.

I pretended to ponder for a moment. “One horse-sized duck. Definitely.”

Lando gaped at me like I’d just declared something outrageous. “Terrible answer. Absolutely terrible.”

“It’s the smart answer,” I shot back, sitting up straighter. “You outmaneuver one big target instead of exhausting yourself trying to wrangle a hundred tiny ones.”

“Do you even know how terrifying a horse-sized duck would be?” Lando asked, his voice rising in mock disbelief.

“And do you know how terrifying a hundred duck-sized horses would be?” I countered, raising an eyebrow.

Lando leaned forward, his grin widening. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’d rather face one giant, angry duck with a wingspan bigger than this couch?”

“Absolutely,” I said confidently. “Ducks aren’t that scary.”

“They can bite, you know,” he shot back, gesturing dramatically. “One snap, and you’re done for.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “I think I’d survive. Besides, I have a secret weapon.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“You,” I said, deadpan. “I’ll just toss you in its path and run.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. “Wow. That’s cold, Y/N. I thought we were a team.”

“We are,” I said, grinning. “But only if you pick the right answer next time.”

For a moment, he was quiet, his grin faltering just slightly as he met my gaze. It wasn’t much, just a flicker of something softer beneath the banter. But it was enough to make my stomach do that annoying little flip I’d been trying to ignore.

“Lando,” Oscar interjected, his tone casual but pointed. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” Lando said quickly, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink as he looked away.

“You are,” Oscar said, leaning back with a smirk.

“You’re imagining things,” Lando muttered, crossing his arms.

Oscar snorted but didn’t press the issue, instead grabbing his phone and scrolling through it idly. But the look he shot Lando wasn’t lost on me—or Lando, for that matter.

As the banter settled into silence, I decided to grab a drink from the catering area, leaving the two of them alone.

The moment the door swung shut behind me, Oscar struck. “Mate, you’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“About what?” Lando asked, feigning innocence as he fidgeted with the water bottle.

Oscar didn’t even look up from his phone. “About Y/N.”

“What about her?”

Oscar set his phone down, leveling Lando with a knowing look. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy every time she’s around.”

Lando scoffed, though the tips of his ears betrayed him again. “That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” Oscar said, dragging out the word like he was savoring it. “That’s why you light up like a Christmas tree whenever she walks in the room.”

“I do not,” Lando said defensively, but his voice lacked conviction.

“You do,” Oscar replied, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “Mate, you’re glaring holes into the back of her head every time she talks to someone else. And don’t even get me started on how you were watching her during the duck-and-horse debate like she’d just solved world peace.”

“That’s—” Lando started, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Right,” Oscar said, his smirk firmly in place. “It’s exactly like that, but go off.”

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly searching for the right words. “It’s… we’ve known each other forever. It’s Y/N.”

Oscar nodded, as if that made sense, but his smirk didn’t waver. “Don’t you think it would be time to change that soon? You two are exhausting.”

Lando shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it.

“I’m just saying,” Oscar said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re completely gone for her. Admit it already.”

Lando groaned, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, grinning now. “But I’m right.”

Lando didn’t respond, his gaze drifting to the door where I’d just left. And for the first time, he let himself wonder if maybe—just maybe—Oscar was onto something.

…

The moment we walked into George’s celebration, the energy hit like a wave. The room was packed with familiar faces—drivers, engineers, and friends—dressed to the nines in that effortless way people in motorsport always seemed to manage. String lights twinkled across the ceiling, soft jazz played over the speakers, and a steady hum of conversation filled the air.

“You’re going to owe me for this,” I teased, glancing at Lando. “Dragging me here after wasting twenty minutes deciding between two identical shirts.”

“They weren’t identical,” Lando replied with a roll of his eyes, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we weaved through the crowd. “One had a darker stitch.”

“Completely life-changing,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

“See? You get it,” he shot back with a grin, steering us toward a booth near the bar.

The way his hand lingered, warm and steady, was something I tried not to think too much about. It was just Lando being Lando—playful, touchy, and completely oblivious to the little flips my stomach insisted on doing whenever he leaned too close.

We found our way to a booth not far from the bar, where Alexandra and Charles were already seated. Charles was gesturing animatedly about something, while Alexandra sat with her usual poised grace, sipping champagne. When she saw us, her face lit up.

“Enfin, vous êtes là !” Alexandra exclaimed, waving us over. (Finally, you’re here!)

“Lando a changé de chemise trois fois,” I replied, throwing him a look. (Lando changed his shirt three times.)

Charles chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. “Toujours dramatique, hein ?” (Always dramatic, huh?)

“English,” Lando whined as we slid into the booth. “You’re ganging up on me in French. It’s not fair.”

“Pauvre bébé,” I teased, patting his arm lightly. (Poor baby.)

“Whatever that means,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t upset.

The conversation flowed easily between the four of us. Lando, of course, dominated the chatter, weaving an elaborate story about George’s awkward rookie days. His expressions were so animated, his gestures so over-the-top, that even Charles—usually the calm and composed one—was cracking up by the end.

“That’s not true,” I said, nudging Lando with my elbow. “You’re exaggerating again.”

“I’m not!” he protested, his green eyes wide with mock innocence. “It’s all true. Every word.”

“Sure it is,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Back me up here!” he said, turning to Charles.

Charles raised a brow, taking a deliberate sip of his drink. “I wasn’t there, but… I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Alexandra laughed softly, glancing at me. “Toujours l’acteur dramatique, ce Lando.” (Always the drama actor, that Lando.)

“Hey,” Lando said, pointing at her. “I know that wasn’t a compliment.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “It absolutely wasn’t.”

He gasped dramatically, his hand over his chest. “Betrayed by my own friends. I’ll never recover.”

“You’ll survive,” I said, brushing him off, though the warmth in his gaze lingered just a beat too long.

Lando eventually excused himself to grab drinks, leaving me to chat with Alexandra and Charles. As soon as he was out of earshot, Alexandra leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Il est tellement évident qu’il a un faible pour toi,” she said softly, her voice full of amusement. (It’s so obvious he has a thing for you.)

“Quoi?” I asked, my cheeks heating instantly. (What?)

“Ouvre les yeux,” she said, smirking. (Open your eyes.)

Charles chuckled, sipping his drink as he watched the exchange. “C’est écrit partout sur son visage.” (It’s written all over his face.)

“Stop,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re imagining things.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, her expression saying everything her words didn’t.

At the bar, Lando was cornered by Carlos, who leaned casually against the counter, his expression smug. 

“You know,” Carlos said, his tone casual, “you’re not very subtle.”

“What are you talking about?” Lando asked, though his focus kept drifting toward the booth where I was sitting.

Carlos raised his drink, gesturing toward me. “You’ve been staring at her all night, hermano. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Lando stiffened, his grin faltering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just tell her,” Carlos said, swirling his drink lazily.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando replied, his voice quieter now.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because if I mess this up, I lose her,” Lando admitted, glancing toward our booth.

Carlos tilted his head, studying him. “You’re scared. That’s what this is.”

“Of course I’m scared,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s my best friend. If it doesn’t work—”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Carlos interrupted, his voice softer now. “But you’d better do something soon.”

Carlos’s smirk softened slightly, but before Lando could reply, Liam Lawson appeared at the bar.

“Who’s the girl with Charles and Alexandra?” Liam asked, nodding toward the booth. “She single?”

Carlos grinned mischievously. “Yeah, she is—go for it.”

Lando’s head snapped toward Carlos, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Carlos.”

“What?” Carlos said, feigning innocence. “Just giving the kid a shot.”

…

Liam approached with the kind of confidence that only a Red Bull driver could pull off.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. “You’re Y/N, right?”

I blinked, momentarily surprised but recovering quickly. “That’s me. And you are?”

“Liam Lawson,” he said, extending a hand.

I shook it, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Nice to meet you.”

“How do you know George?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as if he had all the time in the world.

“Through Lando,” I replied, keeping my tone polite but measured. His easy demeanor was almost disarming, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made me hyper-aware of my surroundings.

“Ah, Lando,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Lucky guy. You two seem pretty close.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said simply, taking a sip of my drink and trying not to overthink his comment.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “his loss if he hasn’t made a move yet.”

That caught me off guard. My gaze flicked to his, searching for any hint of a joke, but he was entirely serious—or at least good at pretending to be.

“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice betraying my surprise.

Liam grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Just saying. If I were him, I wouldn’t be sitting over there, letting someone else steal your attention.”

The comment was bold, and I didn’t quite know how to respond. My thoughts were a mess of confusion, flattery, and something else I didn’t want to name. Before I could formulate a response, the familiar sound of Lando’s voice cut through the air.

“Liam,” he said smoothly, stepping up to the table. His tone was calm, but his green eyes held a sharpness that made me sit up a little straighter.

Liam glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Christian’s looking for you,” Lando said, his tone casual but firm. “Something about debrief notes.”

Liam frowned, clearly reluctant. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Lando said, nodding. “He seemed pretty keen.”

Liam hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and Lando like he was weighing his options. Finally, he sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Alright. Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“You too,” I replied, watching him leave with a mixture of relief and something I couldn’t quite pin down.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lando lingered for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets as he avoided my gaze.

“That,” Charles said, his tone thick with amusement, “was the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Lando shot him a glare, his ears turning faintly red. “Mind your own business, Charles.”

Charles just smirked, raising his glass in mock surrender. “Whatever you say.”

I didn’t say anything, but a flicker of suspicion settled in the back of my mind.

Had Lando just…? No. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

“Let’s get a drink,” Alexandra said, pulling me to my feet.

…

As Alexandra and I made our way back toward the booth, she nudged me gently, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Lando looked like he was about to breathe fire earlier,” she said casually, sipping her drink.

I laughed softly, trying to deflect. “He’s always protective. It’s nothing.”

“Protective?” Alexandra repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That was not protective, chérie. That was jealousy.”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped short as we neared the booth, Lando and Charles’s voices filtering through the hum of the room.

“It will just be awkward, mate,” Lando said, his tone low and almost resigned.

“Just talk about it,” Charles replied simply.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando muttered. “She will never be more than just a friend.”

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My chest tightened, and the air around me seemed to still. Alexandra’s hand touched my arm gently, but I barely noticed.

“I— I need some air,” I managed, turning away before she could respond.

The ache in my chest grew with every step I took, his words echoing in my head.

She will never be more than just a friend.

And just like that, everything I thought I’d imagined felt painfully real.

…

I turned my phone face down on the table at Gigi’s, willing myself not to glance at the screen again. The missed calls from Lando were piling up, his name lighting up my notifications every half hour like clockwork. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him—I did. But every time I thought about his voice, his laugh, his damn words, the ache in my chest tightened.

She will never be more than just a friend.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away as the waiter arrived with my order. The smell of rich, cheesy pasta wafted up, comforting in the way only food could be. I twirled a forkful absentmindedly, hoping the carbs would somehow fill the space that had been hollowed out the night before.

The familiar growl of an engine outside pulled my attention from my plate. I glanced toward the window and froze.

The unmistakable silhouette of Lando’s Miura parked just outside, sleek and shining even under the soft glow of streetlights. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was, stepping out effortless as usual—but his expression wasn’t the easygoing grin I was used to. He looked… worried.

Before I could decide what to do, he spotted me through the window, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He pushed through the door, his eyes locking onto mine immediately.

“There you are,” he said, relief evident in his tone as he approached my table.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

He pulled out the chair across from me, sitting down without asking. “Looking for you.”

My heart twisted. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been ignoring me all day,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I looked away, focusing on my fork. “I had my phone off that’s all.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he said finally, his voice softer but steady.

I glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“You always turn to cheesy Italian food when you’re upset,” he said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s your thing.”

The casual observation caught me off guard, a mix of warmth and frustration bubbling in my chest.

“So what?” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “You’re some kind of expert on me now?”

He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Y/N, I know you better than anyone. And I know something’s wrong.”

I didn’t answer, twisting my fork in the pasta and pretending to be engrossed in my meal. But the usual comfort it brought was absent, replaced by the uncomfortable weight of his gaze.

“You’re not yourself,” Lando said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my tone clipped.

“Don’t lie to me,” he replied, his tone more serious than I was used to.

I set my fork down, the clink of metal against porcelain louder than it should have been. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking.”

His eyes softened, his frustration giving way to concern. “Y/N…”

“Lando, I’m fine,” I interrupted, though the words felt hollow.

He didn’t push further, but I could see the gears turning in his head. He sat back, glancing down at my half-finished plate of pasta before gesturing to the waiter.

“Can we get the check, please?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Paying,” he said simply, standing as the waiter approached.

“For me?”

“Yes,” he said, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Come on.”

“Come on where?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“You’ll see,” he said, extending a hand.

I hesitated for a moment before letting him pull me to my feet.

The warm night air hit us as we stepped out of Gigi’s, the soft sound of waves in the distance mingling with the faint hum of the city. Lando didn’t say anything, his grip on my hand firm but gentle as he led me toward Larvotto Beach, just a short walk away.

“Lando, seriously,” I said as we reached the sand. “What’s going on?”

He stopped, turning to face me, his green eyes brighter under the moonlight.

“We need to talk.” he said simply.

And just like that, my heart started racing, even though I had no idea what he was going to say.

The beach stretched out before us, quiet except for the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. The city lights glittered faintly in the distance, their reflection dancing on the dark water. Lando walked beside me, his shoulders tense, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

For once, I didn’t fill the silence. I didn’t trust myself to. My thoughts were a whirlwind—last night’s overheard words still fresh in my mind, colliding with the unexpected intensity of this moment.

We walked like that for a while, the sand soft beneath our feet, until Lando came to a sudden stop. He turned to face me, his green eyes catching the moonlight in a way that made my stomach twist.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

I crossed my arms, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. “Try the beginning.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “The beginning’s too far back. I’d be here all night.”

“Good thing I don’t have anywhere else to be,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression softening. “Y/N, I have a lot of friends. Like, a lot of friends.”

I blinked, confused. “Okay?”

“But none of them get to me the way you do,” he said, his voice dropping.

I stared at him, my breath catching. “What are you saying?”

He glanced out at the water, like he was searching for courage in the rolling waves. “I mean… you’re not just anyone to me. You never have been. You’re the first person I think of when something happens—good or bad. And the idea of upsetting you? It’s unbearable.”

My throat tightened as his words sank in.

“Like today,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “You ignored my calls, and I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I’d done something wrong. Whether I hurt you somehow. Because if I did…” He stopped, exhaling sharply, and shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of you being upset because of me.”

I didn’t respond, too caught up in the flood of emotions his words were pulling from me.

“When you’re upset, it breaks my heart,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “And when you laugh… it’s like my entire day gets brighter. When you’re sad, it feels like my world’s falling apart.”

“Lando,” I started, but he held up a hand, shaking his head.

“I’m not done,” he said, his words tumbling out now, faster and more frantic. “I’ve been feeling like this for so long, and I thought I could just push it aside or pretend it didn’t matter, but it does. It matters so much. And if I messed up—if I’ve ruined this somehow—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You didn’t—”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted, his eyes locking onto mine. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to admit it. And I know this might change everything, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

I froze, his confession slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if this makes sense. I just… I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

Without thinking, I stepped closer, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

For a second, he was completely still, caught off guard. But then he kissed me back, his hands slipping to my waist as he pulled me closer. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened quickly, making the world around me disappear.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath.

“So… I’m guessing you feel the same?” he asked, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re so slow sometimes,” I murmured, shaking my head with a laugh.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” I said, smiling.

The relief on his face was almost comical. He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me tightly like he never wanted to let go.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he murmured into my hair.

“And I’ve wanted to hear it,” I admitted, my voice muffled against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “But… yesterday. Did I say something? Did I—”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting. “I overheard you talking to Charles.”

His face paled. “Oh.”

“You said I’d never be more than a friend,” I said, my voice wavering.

Lando winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, Y/N, that’s not how I meant it at all. I said that because I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Like… you’re so important to me, and I didn’t want to mess up what we already had by wanting something I thought I could never have.”

He looked at me with a mix of regret and hope. “I’m an idiot. It wasn’t because I didn’t want more—it’s because I didn’t think I could have it.”

“You are an idiot,” I said, my lips twitching into a small smile. “But you’re my idiot.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yours, huh? Bold claim.”

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Think you can find someone else to deal with you the way I do?”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Deal with me? You mean worship my charm and tolerate my perfection?”

“Oh, please,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “The only thing I’m worshipping is the patience I’ve built up putting up with you.”

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me slightly closer, his smirk turning more mischievous. “You love me. Admit it.”

“Not a chance,” I said, even as my pulse quickened.

His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my eyes again, his voice softening but still teasing. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Before I could respond, he closed the gap, kissing me again with a fierceness that took me by surprise. This wasn’t the hesitant, nervous kiss from before. It was confident, teasing, like everything we’d been holding back had finally snapped into place.

I kissed him back, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His hands tightened on my waist, grounding me as he smiled against my lips, murmuring, “Still denying it?”

I broke the kiss just long enough to catch my breath, raising an eyebrow. “You think one kiss is going to make me fold?”

“Two,” he said smugly, leaning in for another without waiting for an answer.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop him, meeting him halfway this time. His lips curved into a grin mid-kiss, and I could feel his stupid, insufferable smugness radiating off him.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked when we pulled apart, my voice laced with mock annoyance.

“Unbelievably,” he replied, his grin widening as he rested his forehead against mine. “And don’t pretend you’re not.”

“Maybe I am,” I admitted, smirking. “But if you keep talking, I might start regretting it.”

He laughed, pulling me closer. “Alright, no more talking. For now.”

“Good,” I said, leaning in again, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore fading into the background as everything else fell away.

The weight of everything unsaid was gone, replaced by the warmth of realizing we’d both been fighting our way toward the same truth: we’d always belonged to each other.

When we broke apart, Lando’s grin turned mischievous, and I immediately knew he was up to something. Before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly and started toward the water.

“Lando! Don’t you dare!” I shrieked, squirming in his arms as laughter bubbled out of me.

“Payback for all those times you called me an idiot,” he teased, stopping just as the waves lapped at his shoes.

He finally set me down, his smirk smug and unapologetic. “Admit it. You love me anyway.”

Figures. I’m in love with someone who steals my fries and once confidently argued that dolphins were just “sea dogs.” I wouldn’t have it any other way though.

[hadesrise]

## one true love !!

summary──── ben feels true love with you, his enemy, and finds himself able to break from the toxic masculinity he surrounded himself with.

pairings──── soldier boy / benjamin x anti-hero!male reader

warnings──── nsfw content, porn with too much feelings, fluff, slight angst, foul language, probably (very definitely) ooc soldier boy, top!reader, sub!bottom!ben, gentle love, praise kink, hair pulling, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, vibrator, pet names ( love, baby, pup, etc. ), short oral ( r. receiving ), love-making, mating press, missionary, riding, aftercare, light D/S dynamics, pillow talk, a lot of vulnerability, ben proposes to reader unexpectedly, enemies in forbidden love, internalised homophobia, morally grey!reader, possessiveness, homophobic slurs, canon typical misogyny, reader’s anti-hero name is lucifer, reader has magical powers

author’s note──── i might’ve made him too soft and vulnerable, so forewarning that he doesn’t show much of his asshole side in this fic. the ooc warning already says much, i guess?

MINORS DNI !!

Peaceful jazz music and well dressed crowd fills the grand hall decorated in gold curtains, men and women from different wealthy families flaunting around their riches with drinks in hand. Adorned in nothing but expensive attires that feeds off of the poor were most guests that have been invited to celebrate another success of Vought-American with a superhero movie that starred its own team, Payback, while the heroes themselves remained in their pretty little costumes for the publicity and fame.

Cameras, photographers, and journalists lurked in the corner section of the hall, where they’ve been assigned to fulfil their destiny of capturing significant moments that are interesting enough to be written on headlines or shown on television.

Nights like this were when Soldier Boy wanted to beat the shit out of Vought employees for their incapability in making celebrations entertaining. The lack of excitement and chaos infuse Ben with excessive boredom that just gives him the urge to shoot himself in the head, all of its professionalism becoming nothing but a burden and straight up pain in the ass. He’s been hardly enjoying the night, having to put up with Crimson Countess attached to his hip at all times to keep appearances, which he admits is worse than fucking a loose cunt. It didn’t make him feel better that Stan fucking Edgar was watching, making sure things are under control.

The jazz music suddenly stops short with a loud screeching sound that has everyone covering their ears in pain, startled murmurs filling the air as all eyes turned to the stage where a famous band stood, confusion also plastered across their faces. One of them repeatedly presses down on the piano’s key, frowning when it does nothing as if it lost its function all of a sudden. Sensing the panic slowly rise among guests, Stan opens his mouth to speak, only for his words to die in his throat when the lights begin to flicker.

“You know, I’m quite displeased to not have received an invitation.” Deep, resonant, husky voice littered with confidence and cockiness erupt out of nowhere as the flickering lights return to normal, an utterly familiar figure making themselves known.

Gasps, of either excitement or fear, falls from everyone’s lips to your powerful presence that almost immediately caused a shift in atmosphere. Soldier Boy’s breath hitched, feeling his throat dry as he cleared his throat and swallowed.

You don’t miss the quick look of surprise and panic flashing across Stan’s face before they were hidden behind his casual mask of greedy businessman, making the corner of your lips twitch up.

“You’re simply not welcome here, Lucifer.” The man uttered with barely contained irritation despite his best efforts to remain calm, spitting your antihero name — given by, not Vought, but the public themselves — in distaste.

Amusement emerge on your expression, completely unbothered by the antagonistic perspective Stan sees you with.

There’s an underlying overconfidence and arrogance to the way you hold yourself, a man who clearly knows how influential and threatening your own existence is and isn’t even apologetic for it. It wasn’t just for a show — you knew you mattered, knew exactly your worth, and didn’t hide behind the fake persona of a beloved public figure that pretends they’re enjoying a single bit of what they’re doing. Your ego and pride seemingly rivals that of Soldier Boy’s yet yours come more naturally, like you were born with it without the need to develop them in amidst of your life to trick yourself into feeling more relevant. You held charisma, a charm that seems to pull people closer to you despite the dangerous, deceitful, fucking jackass attitude you had that’s supposed to be driving them away. It makes Ben want to either punch your face or suck your cock like a fag whore.

“Fair enough,” You shrugged. “But I certainly make parties more fun. You could learn a couple or two from me.”

Stan’s eye twitches in annoyance at your arrogance; it’s much worse that he can’t use anything to stomp on it because your ego wasn’t fragile like the others. While most men, supe or not, wrap their self-importance in toxic masculinity in order to feel superior than they actually are, you were fully comfortable with yourself. Your emotional capacity was extremely high that developed you to become invincible against criticism or rejection. He can attempt to hurt your feelings, manipulate you, use your own ego against you all he wants — none of it will force you to surrender or submit no matter what because you, quite simply, loved yourself too much to be under power hungry maniacs.

When Stan can’t seem to muster a snarky remark, you smirk and invite yourself in, walking further into the grand hall as you snap your fingers, the white bright lights turning into colourful disco lights with your magic.

You stared at the band members on stage, eyes glowing red, and forcefully overtake their minds to play an upbeat party worth music instead of the boring jazz they did. It’s not that you dislike jazz music, it’s peculiar and beautiful on its own, you’re just not really fond of formal parties where everyone’s required to be in their good behaviours, barely having the time of their life if not to shove their riches down less wealthy people’s throat, which you don’t particularly find amusing or fun at all.

It seems to excite the guests, some of them even beginning to bop their heads to the catchy rhythm, moving their previously still bodies along with the beats. Energy surges through them, life revealing itself within their eyes that was filled with misery before you barged in.

“Let go of the fucking formality, ladies and gentlemen.” You grinned wide with your arms spread open to your sides. “It’s time for a true fun party!”

Ben was in awe when all cheered at your declaration, how quick you were able to turn this entire place into your own playground despite the hosts — authorities — being present, how much of a natural you were at gaining people’s faith and attention without doing more than show up and be yourself.

It should be making him envious; he’s doing all these heroism, model, actor bullshit and hiding behind a perfect macho-man façade to be loved and paid attention to for fuck’s sake, and yet it’s so easy for you to bend people at your own will just by being yourself. He should be pissed as he always did when others get the spotlight more than him, but Ben couldn’t find it in himself to.

How the fuck is he going to be pissed when you look so disgustingly hot doing all of it?

“He’s fucking doing it again,” Countess seethes through gritted teeth, glaring at you. Her little tug on his arm snaps him out of daze as he shifts his gaze to her. “Taking all the attention away from you. With the rate he’s going, I wouldn’t be surprised if he interrupts everything you’re in.”

Ben had to pretend to irritably clench his jaw, and smiled with sarcasm. “As if I’d let him. Fucking asshole needs to be put in his place.”

He knew you heard him when the corner of your lips pulled up in a smirk, one of your brows raising to shoot him a challenging look. It sends a thrill down Ben’s spine as he scowled, giving you a death glare that everyone sees for it is; rage, hatred, despise.

“Pleasure to see you here, Soldier Boy. Crimson Countess.” You greet in a feigned enthusiasm, swiftly taking a cocktail from the waiter that just passed, and approach them in all your glory.

“Fuck you,” Soldier Boy quickly snarled as Countess spits, “Get the fuck away from us.”

Amusement instantly cross your face, nearly making both of them want to punch you. “So much for greeting lovebirds in clown costumes,” You dejectedly say with a hand over your chest for dramatic effect, in contrast to the mocking way in which you spoke. “C’mon, I just made this boring, useless party worth your precious little time. At least now you can stop being a pussy hiding behind an awfully constructed television personality.”

That strikes a nerve in Soldier Boy as his face hardened and a cold look appeared, stepping forward warningly, “I’d choose my next fucking words wisely if I were you.” Countess tugs his arm in a nervous manner while scanning their surroundings, taking notice of people watching your interaction.

You meet his glare with a calm yet daring look and leaned closer, “I wouldn’t. I know I can beat you.” Your eyes glowed in red once again as you grinned confidently.

Ben’s hand twitched, but before he could make a move, a woman approached you from behind and tugged on your elbow, interrupting the little rivalry you had going on. “I’m sorry, do you mind if we dance and have fun for a bit?” She shyly but bravely asked you, not even sparing Soldier Boy a glance.

An unimpressed look flashes in your eyes that only Ben took notice of, the subtle annoyance to the woman for cutting into your rather hostile conversation. You, however, plastered on an emotionless smile within a split second, not giving anyone the chance to see through you. “I’ll lead the way,” You barely looked at him before walking off with her to the centre of the hall where bodies swayed to the beat.

It takes everything in Ben not to square up and make a mess of this party when you started dancing with her, your body dangerously close to hers as she stares at you with a look that made him want to strangle her slim neck. As if you’re a divine sculpture created by Gods, like you’re the entire universe, most precious being to ever exist in this planet, like she knew everything about you when she, in fact, absolutely did not. But he does.

And Ben knows he’ll be screaming your name, holding you impossibly close to him, digging his nails onto your back as you grind into him — everything she wished you’ll do to her — when all of this shit show is over.

At the end of the day, no slut or pussy fucker would come home to you but him; you’ve chosen him despite the countless amount of people throwing themselves pathetically at you, and Ben will make sure he’ll forever be the only one who does.

Lewd squelching, sucking sounds fill the dimly lit bedroom of your home as the stench of sex and arousal surround the air, more prominent due to your and Ben’s enhanced senses. You sat comfortably against the headboard of your shared bed with Ben in between your legs as he sucks and slurps your cock, taking it as far as he can in his mouth and gagging. Tiny muffled moans or groans escape him occasionally, hips grinding against the mattress to stimulate his own aching dick while the vibrator you bought for him nestled deep inside his prepped hole.

“You love my fuckin’ cock so much, don’t you?” You chuckled hoarsely, almost degrading, and Ben shudders. “It’s alright, love. m’not goin’ anywhere.” Your fingers tread through his hair, gently scraping your nails against his scalp, making him groan as his hips stutter.

Maintaining eye contact with you, Ben inhales a deep breath through his nose before taking your cock further down his throat, tears gathering in his eyes when he nearly gagged. A genuine smile adorns your face when he looks at you expectantly, the most beautiful green eyes you’d ever seen holding desperation and self-doubt. Pleading expression that he shows only to you.

“You want me to praise you, pup? Call you good boy?” He whines in response — God, that fucking sound you know he’d rather die than let anyone else hear. Ben doesn’t have any idea how much it affects you, the fact that you’re the only one whom he allows a vulnerable side of him show.

Realising he has to earn what he yearns for, Ben gently wraps his hand around the base of your cock where it didn’t fit and starts to bob his head. You moaned softly, throwing your head back; the sight being such a blessing to Ben’s eyes that makes his own cock throb and needy. He swirls his tongue on the underside of your shaft, his free hand gripping your thigh for support.

“Doin’ so good, love. You’ve gotten better at this,” You cooed, petting his hair and gently thrusting up into his throat. Ben closed his eyes, a blissful look appearing on his face as he relaxed and allowed you to move instead.

The trust and faith Ben has in you makes something explode within your chest, heart swelling in love and adoration at your troubled yet adorable partner.

Building a healthy and trustful relationship with him was more difficult than anything you’ve ever done before, considering the absolute bigotry his father forcefully fed into him and all the unresolved issues he had with himself. Despite the tough and harsh exterior he constantly put on, you had seen right through him when you first met — those broken spirit that yearned to be loved or needed by people hiding behind his douche, Soldier Boy persona, a man that his imbecile of a father always wanted him to be. It amused you as much as it squeezed your chest; one of the first strongest superhero being a fucking attention starved bastard was undeniably funny, but pitiful. It’s also why you fell in love with him.

You’ve accepted that Ben was always going to have a deep rooted homophobia in him, that there won’t be a day where you’ll be seen in the public with him holding hands like star-fucking-crossed lovers, that he’ll always be too much of a pussy to be fully himself — but you never expected him to be so open, comfortable, with you like this to the extent of willingly trusting you with a needy and desperate version of himself.

Benjamin is laying his heart out bare for you to take, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to make love to him or fuck his brains out. You decided with the former.

Confusion settles on Ben’s expression when you gently pushed his shoulders to make him pull away, a sudden worry if he’s done something wrong, but all thoughts flies out the window after you passionately smashed your lips against his and guided him on your lap. Ben gasps when you pulled the vibrator out of his hole and replaced it with your thick fingers, hooking his arms on the back of your neck.

“So good, love. Lookin’ all pretty for me.” He moans at your praise, the compliment making his heart flutter rather than boost his ego.

“s’for you…” They come out in whisper from his lips, littered with slight reluctance around the edge, but you hear it loud and clear. “All for you. I— fuck… just for you,” He grinds on your fingers, crying out when you curled them just right to stimulate his prostate.

You almost feel dizzy for his words that he’s never uttered before.

The utmost pride he upholds made it difficult for Ben to completely submit to you, often being a disobedient brat that needs to be put in his place or a quiet, reserved man that’s embarrassed to be loved by another man which causes him to be tense for the first half of this activity — so seeing him like this, hesitantly yet openly letting you in to his comfort zone, spilling the thoughts he’s always been fearful of admitting, holding you tight to him as if you’d slip from his grasp if he let you go, was pleasantly surprising. Your heart flutters, butterflies filling your stomach as the urge to protect and gently take him apart piece by piece runs like electricity through your veins, fuelling your desire for Ben.

You thrust your digits with gentle pace, Ben’s hips moving on its own to chase the pleasure. “That’s right, baby. All f’me, yeah? My pretty darling?”

The gentleness of your whispered voice and your eyes staring at him with pure love sends shivers down his spine; Ben holds your face and nods, pulling you in for a kiss. You can feel his suppressed fear through his desperate lips, the doubts that lingers in his mind that you might see him differently for being so vulnerable like this, and you quickly silence his thoughts by slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

Ben mewled when you add another digit in him, now having three fingers penetrating his hole, as he breaks the kiss to breathe for air. There’s a hazy look in his tearful eyes when he meets your gaze, “Take care of me, please.”

You groan at the plea, immediately pulling your fingers out to instead align your cock with his entrance. Ben must’ve been waiting for so long because he doesn’t hesitate to sink down on it almost in an instant, a loud collective moan escaping the two of you. Your hands gripped his hips while he rested both hands on your shoulders, and fuck he felt so fucking good. The way his warm, tight velvety walls deliciously clamp around you as if swallowing your cock whole, the way his divinely beautiful body perfectly fit against yours like he was made for you.

“fuck… you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” You praised, kissing up his throat as he threw his head back in pleasure. “Completely mine, so is Soldier Boy. Everythin’ about you, Ben. It’s all mine.”

Ben nods vigorously, gripping the back of your neck and starting to ride you at a perfect pace, tiny sounds escaping his mouth. Slipping his fingers through your hair, he gently tugged on them just enough that had you groaning, and laid his forehead to rest against yours. “Y-yours- ah… Yours as… as much as you’re fucking mine,” He grunts out, possessiveness hanging onto his every word that shot excitement through your body. “No one gets to f-fucking have you… oh fuck—!” He cuts himself off with a strangled moan when you snapped your hips up.

“Yeah? Not even that slut that danced with me on the dance floor?” You teased, smirking.

His bright green eyes seem to darken as he sinks even further down on your cock, forcefully stretching himself out, hissing at the delicious pain. You moaned, wrapping an arm around him to pull him to your chest. “Fuck, especially her.” Ben almost growls, one hand coming up to wrap around your throat, feeling you throb and seemingly get bigger inside him due to it. “You… belong to me, o-only me.”

You hum, moaning softly when he squeezed your jugular just right. “Always, my love.”

Relief washes over his entire body as he begins to roll his hips and move again, leaning down to suck and kiss on your exposed collarbone. “Oh fuck… It’s— a-agh…! Tell me- tell me, please…” He whined desperately.

Ben needed to hear you say it, have the promises of you completely belonging to him nailed into his brain so he’ll never feel insecure or doubtful again. He’ll never admit it, but you always know every little thing that goes on inside his head, those haunting words of his father that seems to have a tight grip over him. You’re the only one that could see right through his soul; someone exactly opposite from his father, someone who fearlessly challenges the normality or ancient traditions, someone who actually have their shit together that enabled you to be mature, wise, unapologetically yourself.

You were extraordinary in every way possible, and Ben knew his inner vulnerable — not quite the man his father wanted him to be — self was safe with you. Always secured. Never judged nor ridiculed, instead embraced perfectly by your strong and warm arms that shields him away from the mental, emotional harm.

He knew you would catch him when he falls. You would keep him and his treasured thoughts safe. You weren’t afraid to love him loudly, wholeheartedly, and Ben allows himself to be brave just this once without thinking about his fears.

Trailing one of your hands up his nape, you pull him back to a searing kiss, pouring all the desire and love into it. Ben melted, his hand on your throat loosening as you gently twist your bodies around to lay him down on the bed without pulling out. He whimpers and chases you when you detached your lips from his, which nearly made your heart explode.

“I belong to you, my love.” You whispered, kissing down his neck and chest, thrusting your cock sensually slow inside him. Nothing quite like the animalistic sex you two usually have due to your powers, but it was more right than ever. “My heart, my body, my soul, my spirit. All for you, belong with you.”

Ben feels as if his heart would hammer right out of his ribcage from how rapid it was beating.

Your soothing yet powerful presence all over the place, hovering over him and embracing every bit of the damaged part of himself that he refused to acknowledge. There’s resistance gnawing on his skin, the unhealthy urge to push you away and guard himself again with a thick wall despite being the one who willingly showed vulnerability, but Ben uses all of his ability to shove it down. He wanted to listen to your overwhelmingly romantic and gentle words that he’s been taught men should never utter, he wanted to be held with so much care like he was your most prized possession, he wanted to be actually loved. For once, he wanted to allow himself to not be drowned in the toxicity his father had force-fed him with.

It doesn’t take you a second to notice him relaxing even further underneath your body, practically leaning onto your existence as the pretty noises escaping his mouth seems to gradually get louder, like he stopped holding himself back.

An awe surrounds your expression, genuinely taken aback by him letting everything go, and a soft sigh of pleasure falls from your lips. “That’s it, baby. You make the most prettiest sound. Don’t hold back,” Cooing gently, you adjust your hips and rolled into him, brushing his prostate at a perfect angle.

Ben keened, arching his back. “Fuuuck… oh, please. Deeper.”

You obliged, keeping the same slow and sensual pace but pushing further inside. “You’re made for me, aren’t you? Just as I’m made for you,” You sharply snap your hips once to emphasise, and he cries out. “We’re one, my love. No one can have me, I come home to you and only to you no matter what.”

His breath hitched, the pleasure and your words sending explosions of euphoria into his brain, nodding mindlessly at your promises. “Y-yes, fuck… I’m- I’m yours, too— ah, hng…” Tears spill from his beautiful green eyes as he spread his legs more wide, one hand grabbing your wrist that was propped beside his head to stabilise your body, almost clinging onto you while the other scratched against the mattress. “F-fucking Christ, always- always yours.”

“I know,” You softly acknowledged. “Always mine, no matter how much some part of you can’t accept it. I can see right through you, love. I understand everything about you.”

“I- oh yes! There, fuck!” Ben sobs when you start picking up your pace, hips bucking against you. “Y-you do… God, you a-always fucking do.”

That causes a grin to spread across your lips before you leaned down to devour him again.

Truth be told, Ben was afraid of how much you saw everything he’s been trying to hide all his life. It takes a bit of his soul every-time he learns to be indifferent, more sick and twisted. The innocence in him had died out long ago, but the desperation of a child never vanquished — the pathetic, ruined and heavily deprived of any love someone that he always forced himself to forget or get rid of, was seen entirely by you without much effort. He didn’t need to say anything, you always understood all the hidden insecurity, longing, pain, and fear nested deep in his mind. You also understood why he was the way he was, why he does what he does, who he had to become.

To be loved is to be seen and understood, he guesses.

A love he’s never thought he’ll ever experience from anyone, let alone his supposed enemy. You gave it to him, though. All so willingly, happily, like he was meant for it, like he was always meant for you.

Strangled, loud moan was forced out of him when your hand wrapped around his achingly hard dick, making him feel dizzy from all the overwhelming desire and pleasure. Every bit of love that emits from your touch sends a frying electricity through his veins, fulfilling his inner thirst that was supposed to be unquenchable.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck—!” Ben wails, arching his back and digging his nails on your forearm as your thumb rubbed his sensitive slit and smeared precum all over. “C-close… oh, Christ! Cummin’, cummin’, please—”

“It’s alright, Ben. I got you,” You purred, slamming your hips down on him. “Let go, cum for me.”

As if that’s all the permission he needed, Ben instantly tumbles over the edge with a loud breathy whine as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, sticky loads shooting out from his cock to his stomach. Body spasming and head thrown back, letting his mind-blowing orgasm wave right off of him, still clinging onto you. You gritted your teeth when his hole tightened impossibly around you, feeling yourself throb and ache to release.

Ben — in spite of his cloudy, mushed state of mind as well as hazy and cock-drunk look in his eyes — suddenly wraps both strong legs around your hips to keep you in place, which forces you forward to bury yourself deeper inside him, eliciting a growl of curses from you.

His mouth splits into a dumb, shit-eating grin. “Inside, baby. Fill me up… give me all you got. I need you.” He moves his hips and squeezes down like a fucking expert prostitute, and it’s enough to have you let out a guttural groan as you spilled inside his tight hole.

Ben released a shattered breath, moaning delightfully at your warm cum that taints his insides, his hand that was gripping your forearm moving down to caress his belly where he could feel you finishing.

It makes your breath hitch; the action sparking a deep hidden desire and possessiveness within you that you’ve had shackled for so long in order to not be too greedy.

But Ben, oh your precious Benjamin, pressed down on his perfect belly and whined so brokenly that tugged the strings of your heart, as if he wanted something so unreachable. He attempts to bury his face on the pillow in what you recognised as shame and you quickly hold his face to keep him from hiding from you, subtle concern glimmering in your gentle eyes.

“What’s bothering your mind, love?” You whispered with such carefulness, afraid speaking too loud would break the bubble of sensitivity that surrounded the two of you as you pressed a light kiss on his temple. “You can tell me, Benji. It’s not embarrassing nor shameful.”

Ben’s heart swells at the way you cage him in your protective arms and words, the back of his eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to come out. He doesn’t deserve you; he never did, but you’re so good to him and he doesn’t think he can live without you. No, he knows he can’t live without you.

What would he do without your captivating eyes looking at him with so much passion no one ever gave him before, your gentle voice uttering such carefully crafted words that embraces rather than cut through him, your big and muscular yet warmly protective arms holding him like he was a treasure to behold, your soul healing and rebuilding every damaged bit of his spirit like it was your purpose? What would he do without you?

And fuck, everything would be so much easier if he wasn’t a fucking man. If he wasn’t such a pussy who’s afraid of risking everything.

You gently roll your hips against his, slow and steady, as if to comfort his nerves and overthinking thoughts with a soft pleasure.

Letting out a quiet, breathy sigh, Ben holds your face close and internally fights back against the restraints that wanted to keep him from opening his soul up to you. “We’d be… We’d be so much happier if I wasn’t a fucking man,” His whispered voice breaks at the end.

His heart ached and so did yours, a realisation dwelling on you of how serious Ben actually was with your relationship. It comes off as an unexpected admittance. While you knew he did love you like you love him, you didn’t think it was to this extent of imagining the countless possibilities if either of you was a woman instead, much less he’d think of himself to be the woman. It was odd and so unlike him — true love brings out something within people, you suppose.

Tears glimmered in his green eyes that’s filled by storm of emotions.

Ben hated this, hated you for making him such a crybaby and a pussy, but he’s so in love with you it fucking hurts. He doesn’t know what triggered him to be an annoying, pathetic, insecure loser the moment you held him. God, he’s Soldier Boy for fuck’s sake!

Then, you look at him with so much tenderness like he hung the moon and was the only thing that grounds you down to earth, and Ben realises it’s this.

“You’re such a fucking fool,” You affectionately cursed with a tone barely above whisper before pressing a lingering kiss on his lips. “I wouldn’t have spared you a glance if you weren’t. Women never captivated me, love. Only you.”

Wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face on the crook of your neck, Ben inhales your scent as you gently rock your bodies together. “Love me more,” He almost demands, voice low and trembling.

You smiled, “Of course, Benji.”

Pressing a sweet kiss on his head, you grab the back of his thighs and push them to his muscular chest, Ben’s flexibility despite his well defined physique making it easier for you to fold him. In a swift motion, you slam down on him, beginning to pound away the loud thoughts that made home in his mind. Angelic, high pitched sounds escape Ben’s mouth with each rough thrusts, bordering on pornographic. The blissful look across his face enhance his already ethereal features, and you can’t help but stare intently at him.

“You look so beautiful like this, love. Taking me in so well, letting me cherish you.” You praised, earning a needy whimper from the love of your life. “My Benjamin… my brave soldier.”

At the unexpected pet name, Ben’s body jolts and a choked sob erupted from his throat, suddenly pushed over the edge as he cums undone on his stomach. “F-fuck!”

“G-god, baby…” You groaned, shuddering in pleasure at the way his gummy walls spasms around your girth. “Drivin’ me insane, y’know that? Cummin’ with just my words alone? Shit, wanna fuck you hard and love you at the same time.”

Digging his nails on your back, Ben attached his lips on your collarbone with an intent to leave several possessive marks, making you jut your hips forward. “D-do it, fuck me.” He mumbled breathlessly.

That’s the only permission you needed to let go of your own self-control and just rut into him like an animal, thrusting your cock with more vigour and roughness that forced the headboard to repeatedly bang against the wall. Feeling the way your shaft practically drill into and rearrange his guts that brought immeasurable ecstasy, Ben finds himself finally unable to make out a coherent thought as drools drip down his chin. The two orgasms you milked out of him already left him sensitive enough, his thighs quivering under your grasps.

Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and wet squelches filled the room, accompanied by feral noises of both of your moans and grunts.

It’s nearly incomprehensible how you’re able to quickly switch between loving him and treating him like a slut next, a perfect balance to Ben’s constant yearning for admiration or appreciation and his tendency to always be an inconsolable brat that needs to be put back in his place.

He feels so complete and whole, so loved. And so so fucking dumb for your cock. He could stay like this forever without heavy expectations weighing over his head all the time, just taking you whole and letting you ruin his body, looking all pretty and beautiful for you. Yeah, he can do that. Being pretty and sexy has always been a talent of his, after all. He can even learn to cook for you like a fucking perfect, pretty housewife, maybe you’ll stuff him full of your cum again while at it and tell him to keep them in. Fuck, he can do that too. He wants to do that.

“Oh fuck, Ben��” An almost pornographic, low growl rumbles from your chest when he squeezed down on you, his warm walls fluttering against your girth from the imagination. The coil in your stomach tightens as you twitched inside him, too close to your high.

“I- ah—! Please, pleaseplease—!” He babbles, one hand shifting to press your ass and push you in deeper, syllables slightly slurred from how cockdrunk he was.

Understanding his wordless signal, you increase your pace with an angle that drives your instincts wild, a chill running through your spine from the overwhelming pleasure. Seeing Ben completely fall apart and surrender underneath you gives your ego an infinite boost, the powerful man such a sobbing, wrecked, pretty little mess just because of your cock. Drunk in every little euphoria and precious love you feed him. Oh, how fucking adorable and gorgeous he was.

Before long, Ben feels you throb inside him and pulls you in with what little willpower he had left, clumsily slipping his tongue in your mouth, overwhelming you with different sensations of his body against yours. It’s enough to have you harshly ram your hips down in one swift motion and empty yourself inside him, a loud wail of your name leaving Ben’s lips as he finishes as well. You feel his body tremble violently due to overstimulation, breath stuttering.

“You look so fucked out,” You laugh breathlessly, hips softly grinding to ride out your climax. “Still fuckin’ hot when you’re all dumb n’ mindless.”

Petting his disheveled hair, a soft contented hum leaves Ben as he closed his eyes and nuzzled to your touch. The entire erotic sight of his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, tears staining his cheeks, hazy look across his eyes, and swollen lips sends amusement and satisfaction through your veins — you definitely fucked whatever self-loathing thoughts he’s had out of his head.

Having completely spilled inside him, you moved to pull out only for Ben to groan in protest. “Stay the fuck in,” He grumbled, panting to catch his breath.

“I need to clean us up, love.” You gently say, but kept yourself sheathed inside him as your lips attach to his neck. “Wanna take care of you properly.”

Ben quietly sighs in content, “You already do.” Before he tilts his head to capture you in a passionate kiss. You slowly pull out of him in amidst of the moment, holding his face and reciprocating with equal passion.

He breathes low and heavy when you start to wipe him up with a wet towel you magically conjured up, running it across his body gently as your other hand massaged his sore hip with such tenderness. Your eyes taking in every part of his physique feels much more innocent now compared to before, deep appreciation and subtle awe flashing across your irises the more you stare, which causes his cheeks to tint slightly. You find it adorable how shy or embarrassed he gets whenever you look at him like he’s something born out of the stars in contrast to the overinflated cockiness he displays when others compliment him; it just proves he feels different, more special with you.

You shoot him a gentle smile that makes his brain shut down and his heart jump.

Christ on a cross, just what did you fucking reduce him into?

“Will you marry me?” The words had left his mouth before he could even process.

You froze, eyes wide as you snapped your gaze to him at the same time his own widened in shock. Fuck, did he just say what he thinks he did? After you fucked him ‘til he couldn’t even speak properly? God, his legs feel wobbly after all that delicious pounding of your dick in his tight little—

His distracting thoughts were interrupted by your hands cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. There’s a bit of doubt lingered across your expression, worried that you mistakenly heard him, and Ben’s gaze softened. “Will you marry me?” He repeats quietly this time with genuine emotion, wiping away your worry.

Excitement and happiness seem to explode within you as you beam; “Yes! Fuck, yes, I’ll marry you.” However, your smile slowly deflates and a foreign look of insecurity replaces the joy surrounding you. “Are you… are you sure? You’re not pushing yourself?”

Confusion spreads across his face, “Why would you think I am?”

“It’s just not that easy to break away from all the homophobia, love.” You softly remind him. “You’re still having a hard time accepting it, could barely even call yourself the right term. You’re afraid, and that’s fine. We can continue on like this. You don’t have to marry me because you feel obligated to.”

Ben frowns, his hand pulling you down to the mattress at his side as he props up on his elbow and stares at you incredulously. “You think I wanna fucking marry you just ‘cause I’m guilty about hiding this? Did it ever occur to you that I actually fuckin’ love you?”

You smile to yourself; what a long way it took for him to just be able to admit that. At least he’s letting himself know he can be vulnerable with you now, compared to when he was convinced you’ll despise his inner self — a big fucking pussy, he says — and completely shut himself off in the beginning.

“Hey,” He grabs your chin to make you pay attention. “I know I still don’t do enough to show you, but I do. I really fucking do, baby.”

You look into his captivating green eyes for a second before releasing a deep breath, “I know. Trust me, you don’t have to do enough to show it, I can already tell. And I love you too.”

Ben nods and kisses your lips, lying down beside you. Your hand instinctually attaches to his waist, caressing his soft skin and shooting warmth throughout his body.

He can’t help but stare at your features, the way you look different now from how you looked at the party you crashed earlier. A certain amount of coldness, hostility and displeasure usually lurked your expression in a daily manner — hidden behind the undeniable charisma and obnoxious arrogance — directed at others that told exactly what their worth to you was; nothing. Ben hasn’t seen a day you were even remotely pleased by someone in the long years of knowing you, the people who attempted to get in your good graces often ended up screwing everything up instead and irritating you enough to kill them off.

But with him, you wouldn’t even spare him a cold glance. Your gaze twinkling with a pleasant spark, always warm, always comforting, always proud. God forbid you look at him with hatred like you’re supposed to. So affectionate for a man who’s been named after the Devil by the idiotic public that only sees what you let them see.

It is then had Ben realised; to him, true love is you.

True love is when you embrace a part of him that he deems undesirable, mend his broken soul, and melt the ice of deep rooted trauma surrounding his heart — it is when Soldier Boy doesn’t drive you away from seeing Benjamin, an ordinary boy from South Philadelphia who desperately wanted to make his father proud. You see them as one, as equally significant parts of him.

Good fucking Lord, he was a gigantic imbecile if he didn’t want to marry you, even if the idea still makes him feel quite… odd. Fuck’s sake, he really needs to learn how to deal with this homophobia bullshit, doesn’t he?

Ben licks his lips anxiously, reluctance plastered on his face. “I… I actually got the rings,” He hesitantly admitted.

Your eyes widened. “You did?”

“I- Jesus Christ, of course I did! I know I don’t fucking do shit like that, okay?” He snapped before quietly muttering, “Just wanted you to believe me when I propose.”

“I do,” You don’t miss to give him comfort, grabbing his hand. Ben’s nerves soothes at your touch. “I just thought we still have a long way to go and you need more time to figure yourself out.”

He shakes his head, “Gotta claim you before some fucker decides you’re free for them.”

“Yeah?” You smirked, raising one eyebrow. “Could’ve gone with a collar, y’know. It would get your point straight across. Plus, it’s more visible.” Tapping your neck to emphasise, which made Ben swallow.

Yeah, you’ll look good with a collar in his colour. You can even wear both. That’ll definitely get his point across to anyone that even looks at you. Maybe next time, he decides.

A mischievous smirk spreads across his lips, “That’ll fucking work best. Think I could put a leash on you too?” He teased, letting out a chuckle and sliding his hand up to your neck and hold you there.

“Mhm, fuck yes,” You almost purred from how pleased you were at the idea.

Ben laughs, lightly squeezing your neck in affection before turning around to rummage through the cabinet on the side of your bed, pulling out a velvet box that’s in the shade of his green. You could tell he was enthusiastic and overwhelmed with emotions from the way his hands slightly trembled, though you made no mention of it to avoid bursting his adorable bubble.

His grin was as bright as the sun on a sunny day when the ring perfectly fits around your finger, already snuggling comfortably on your skin and bringing a weight of new purpose in life. You slip the other ring on his as well, feeling the entanglement of your destiny with one another, the red strings of fate on both of your pinky fingers thickening. It’s a sacred oath that ties you to each other forever.

Warmth spreads around your chest at the fact it’s his first time giving you a gift and it’s something so unexpectedly intimate. A silver engagement ring with a ruby in his shade of green and his name engraved on the inner side; practically a part of his soul, settling itself home around your finger. You shift your gaze to the one he wears — the same silver ring but with a dark red ruby instead, your signature colour, and you assume also have your name engraved on the inner side as well.

A big, significant step for a man who’s constantly afraid of what others think about him, and you couldn’t be more prouder.

Lying back down on the bed together, Ben turns his back on you and scoots closer to your chest, making you smile when he grabbed your wrist to pull your arm over his torso. He always loved being hugged by you from behind despite the fact he’ll never admit it out loud; as much as it sounds pathetic and unmanly, he doesn’t argue with himself of how it gives him safety and protection from the harsh judgmental world. Being in your arms always dissipated the cruel words of his father carved in his mind.

You gently pulled him closer to your body and pressed a kiss on his shoulder blade. “Don’t have to rush about coming out, love. It’ll take more than a simple courage to be open about something considered taboo by our society. You’re still dealing with personal issues, we’ll focus on that for now.”

Ben’s heart warms at your consideration, unable to resist the urge to stick to you like a glue as he leans back on your chest. “How the fuck did you do it? This feels like a pain in the fucking ass,” He muttered disdainfully, though there was a hint of willingness in his tone, like he’s willing to make an effort just for you.

You shrugged, “m’not exactly shaped by my childhood trauma, Benji, and I didn’t like my parents that much. Never really gave a fuck about somethin’ that has no benefit to my life whatsoever.”

“Entitled asshole,” He laughs.

“So are you,” You teased, making you both erupt in loud laughter.

I could get used to this, Ben thinks as genuine happiness glows bright in his heart, your love anchoring him and providing a solid land for him to stand on. Dealing with his own problems doesn’t sound so bad when you’re there for him every step of the way. With your protective arms around his body, both Soldier Boy and Benjamin knew their heart will always be safe with you.

For once, Ben believes he can finally learn to create a family of his own.

Until disaster struck and life suddenly decides to not be fair on someone as fucked up as him — ripping his world apart into shreds in the form of coward, betraying bastards known as his fucking teammates.

© all rights reserved to hadesrise ──── stealing, plagiarising, or using my works for monetary gain is strictly prohibited. ask permission before reposting or translating.

[glossytoothpick]

1. Ragatha- oh my god I love her so much. Other than Jax she was my favorite when I first watched the pilot and she’s become my favorite as episodes have gone on. I love her so much, she’s so sweet and relatable, I can’t-

2. Jinx- Originally Vi was probably my favorite from Arcane but I feel like the writers didn’t handle her well at all in season 2, and found myself enjoying Jinx much more in season 2. I love her character arc and her character is genuinely so interesting and cool. I wanna give her a hug so bad.

3. Spinel- My favorite Steven Universe character by far. I really relate to her, and I love the arc she goes through. Her design is absolutely perfect, she’s animated so well, Sarah Styles does an awesome job voicing her, and she means the world to me. She’s one of my original Blorbos.

4. Sayori- Another character I really relate too. She’s another long lasting blorbo too. I think the reason I love her is because she is kinda just literally me and I like…. REALLY relate to her.

5. Anya (Mouthwashing)- Anya’s character is incredibly well written and I wish she was able to get a happy ending. Her story is really sad, and she’s just really kind and deserves the world.

6. Mel (Arcane)- Mel is a very interesting character to me. Her relationship with her mother and her dynamic with Jace really makes her stand out. She’s another character who I think should’ve gotten a happy ending, cuz hers was pretty sad all things considered ;w;

7. Pearl- Other than Spinel, she’s probably my favorite Steven Universe character. Her arc of getting over Rose was really powerful and I really loved the journey she went through to heal from her trauma.

8. Toadette- Don’t really have a deep reason to like her, I just think she’s really silly and she’s one of my favorite characters :)

9. Ms. Chalice- I love her design!!!! Not much to say other than that to be honest, I just love her. She’s my main in Cuphead.

10. Alice Angel- I love her. She’s so sweet and has an awesome design :)

Name ten female characters you like, you get zapped if it's jsut a male character you call a babygirl or other feminine nicknames because I can't see people calling Lestat coquette again

[dollarbils]

tell me i’m your only fan | b.eilish

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your most active fan on onlyfans soon piqued your interest as she became something much more.

warnings. phone sex, ofstar!reader, (i probably made up half of the features on onlyfans)

request masterlist

regardless of the public opinion, you quite liked your job. you’d made the switch to onlyfans just recently, finding it a much more comfortable platform, and most importantly: much more profitable.

most of your ‘fans’ so to say were the regular dynamic of people you’d expect. rich, older men with nothing better to spend all their money on. but curiously, a huge part of your audience was women. in particular one woman. your favourite, you’d call her. she’d been subscribed for about a month now, consistently watching your uploads and streams. often taking the spotlight as well, sending gifts and paying large amounts of money for personalised content. but what seriously did it for you, was when she bought your entire wish list five minutes after you’d published it, requesting a special ‘unboxing’ of everything she’d bought you.

naturally, it didn’t take long for you to start talking. it was difficult to remember she was one of your fans, your conversations straying far away from anything you’d ever talked to a fan about. she seemed to care about you, take interest in your personal life. and once you’d gotten wrapped up, it was almost too easy to get attached.

“god just keep speaking, baby.” her voice was almost a whine, as she relished in your soft laughter and emotive expression.

“how are you always turned on?” you remarked somewhat as a joke, knowing it was true though.

“i’m talking to the woman i jerk off to, i think it’s justified.” she never failed to be bold, often taking you by surprise.

“well you’ll find my recent uploads have been the outcome of what some would call a ‘muse’. you’re quite sexy yourself, babe.” she groaned and it went straight to your core, the familiar pulse settling in.

“jesus. it’s like your tryna make be bust a nut in my pants right now.” the masculinity to her words only made them more filthy, urging you to rile her up some more.

“i won’t deny it.” she chuckled, a momentary pause before she sighed.

“i bet you tell that to all of them, huh? your fans, they all think they got lucky, that your reserved for them.” her words stung quite a bit, knowing the truth was far from it.

“hardly, it was pretty stupid of me to give you my number. i’d take it as a sign that you did get lucky.” she almost scoffed at your words.

“i’m going to need to cut back on the glazing if your gonna act like this.” she was serious now, testing the waters before committing.

“oh yeah? tell me what’s so wrong with my behaviour.” a low sound from the back of her throat revealed the success of your words. clearly it was turning her on.

“you’re really testing me, baby. you can’t even imagine what i’d do if i was there with you right now.” you felt a pool in your underwear forming, liking how this was going.

“please, tell me.” her breath hitched, her confidence faltering slightly. but when she spoke again you’d never have questioned her confidence.

“i’d treat you like what you are. a fucking slut.” her filthy words only turned you on more, your skin tingling at the sound of her heavy breaths through the phone speaker.

“oh yeah? and what are you gonna do about it? you’re not here, you cant stop me from doing anything.” she chuckled, a mocking tone following.

“oh please angel, it’s cute you think so. i bet your hand is doing some filthy things as we speak. am i turning you on, baby?” your hand stopped at your lower stomach in an act of a sort of shame, your breaths quickening.

“i’m guessing the silence means i’m right. don’t deny yourself babe, touch yourself for me.” you couldn’t help but follow her demands, seeking your own pleasure along with your submission.

“fuck.” she laughed softly, again, enjoying the vocal effect she was having on you.

“you’re gonna kill me angel.” a smile formed on your lips, as you continued pumping your own fingers into your heat.

“tell me i’m your only fan.” her words were seductive, a plea to recognise her as more than a fan.

“you’re my favourite fan.” your reply seemed to satisfy her as she sunk deeper into her mattress, the sheets ruffling through the phone as she bit back a moan.

“are you close?” she mumbled, evidently riddled with her own sweat release.

“fuck, y-yeah.” you stuttered, the heat of the moment taking over, fogging up your senses.

“i like that title, favourite fan. sure seems well deserved, doesn’t it.”

“more than well deserved.” you huffed, slightly out of breath as you chuckled into the phone.

[kirammanswifey]

helloo!! can you please write about ‘arcane characters when you get in an argument’? i absolutely love ur writing btw!! 🫶🏻

arguments with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i love when you guys request this kind of interesting dynamics, it's so fun to write about it! also my favorite this time was sevika's, I meannn it was kinda hot and spicy. requests are open ;)

Viktor

The sound of the keys under his hands seems to fill the air, but what resonates most is the silence between the two of you. The room is steeped in an unsettling calm, while he keeps working as if nothing else exists. It’s been days since he last rested, and you know it. His skin is paler than usual, his eyes glassy, as if all the world's exhaustion is about to devour him. The scent of machine oil and metal permeates the room, but what hurts you most is the fragility of his being, the one he insists on ignoring.

Slowly, frustration begins to simmer within you. You love him more than anything in the world, but watching him so neglected, so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even stop to eat, burns you.

You approach him, and suddenly, you can't take it anymore. Your tone isn't raised, but the fury is felt in every word. "Viktor, stop," you murmur, almost pleading. "You’re killing yourself. You haven’t eaten in days, not even slept. Do you know what you're doing? You're letting yourself go. Your body is crying out for help, and you're ignoring it."

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react. He keeps working as if your words don't reach him. Frustrated, you step closer. "You can't keep going like this, Viktor! What are you expecting? For someone to come and save you from yourself? This isn't just about your work, it’s about you!"

Finally, he looks up, but his eyes don’t seem to truly see you. Only a shadow of exhaustion. "I do it for them... for the people. The work... my research, it’s all that matters now."

"And you? Don’t you matter?" The anger mixes with something much deeper. Something that has to do with fear. "Your lack of self-love is so evident, Viktor, even I can see it. You're losing yourself in this obsession."

The words come out harsher than you intended. But seeing the flash of pain in his eyes, you realize what you've just said. A lump forms in your throat.

You fall silent, feeling the air grow thick. Guilt quickly invades you, and before you can think, you kneel in front of him. "Forgive me," you whisper, the anger already dissipated, replaced by sincere pain. "I didn't mean to be so harsh. It’s just... I don't want to see you like this, so lost. I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you are what I love most, Viktor."

Your hands tremble as you take his face in yours. "Please, take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to see you like this anymore, fighting alone against everything. Because, to me, you are everything."

Viktor says nothing at first. He just watches you, the conflict in his gaze. Then, as if releasing a sigh he had been holding for too long, he responds softly, "I’ll try... I promise I’ll try."

You look at him with a mix of relief and sadness. Finally, you stand up and take his hand firmly. "Now come with me. I’m going to make your favorite dinner. You need it."

The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Something in his face softens, and for the first time in a long while, he gives you a faint smile. "You know, that sounds wonderful," he says with a tone that mixes surprise and gratitude.

As you prepare dinner, the atmosphere changes. The tension slowly dissolves, but there’s something else in the air, a silent understanding between you two. After dinner, you look at him with a mischievous smile.

"Viktor," you say, your voice full of complicity. "How many days have you gone without bathing? Because, honestly, I think it’s time you do."

He visibly shifts in discomfort, his face taking on a pink hue. "Honestly... I don’t know," he replies, as if trying to evade the question, looking down. "The truth is, I haven’t had time to think about those things."

Your laugh is soft but teasing. "I think you’ve forgotten a bit about yourself. So, what do you think if after dinner, we take a bath together?"

Viktor blushes even more, but before he can say anything, he has already conceded, and with an exaggerated formality only he can pull off, he responds, "Well... that... that would be very pleasant. If you don’t mind, of course."

The tension from before has transformed into something softer, lighter. You, amused by his so formal response, take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, feeling that, in that moment, all that really matters is that he’s finally willing to take care of himself.

Jinx

The sound of the spark igniting the fuse fills the room. Jinx has a playful smile on her face, but something isn't right. The bomb is making strange noises, as if it's about to fail. The sparkle in her eyes fades for a second, but it's accompanied by a nervous chuckle.

"What's wrong, Jinx?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. The moment feels out of place, and for a moment, you sense that something is very wrong, very out of control. "That... doesn't sound right."

But she just stands there, watching the bomb intently. She doesn't move. The air grows heavy, and suddenly, the bomb makes a terrifying click.

Your eyes widen as you see the timer on the bomb speeding up. A chill grips you, and in an instant, you act on instinct. You leap toward the table, your breath quickening, and deactivate the bomb just before it fully triggers. The explosion is seconds away from ringing in your ears, but you manage to stop it.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you quickly turn to face Jinx. She’s still there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the deactivated bomb, as if hypnotized. She doesn't look scared or relieved, just... empty.

"Why didn't you do anything?" you confront her, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Why did you just stand there? You could have died, Jinx! We could have both died!"

Jinx stares at the floor, her demeanor shifting in a second. The mockery dissolves, the mask falls, and in its place appears the scared girl she so often hides. "I... just wanted to see what would happen." Her response is soft, trembling, as if she doesn't know how to process what just happened.

Those few seconds of silence feel eternal. The air around you grows heavy, as if the whole world is waiting for something else to explode. And it does. You can't take it anymore. Fury takes over, and you lash out at her.

"What did you want to see, Jinx?" Your voice is harsh, filled with frustration. "Did you want to see us both die because of your stupid curiosity? Is that what you wanted?"

Jinx shrinks, her expression transforming into something so fragile it burns your heart. Her face is filled with regret, but her eyes can't meet yours. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she keeps staring at the floor, feeling small and scolded.

"I didn't mean to... I swear..." she murmurs, almost in a whisper, her words choked by the pain of having gone too far.

Your rage starts to dissipate, replaced by something deeper. An irrational fear, the anguish of watching Jinx destroy herself. You walk toward her, kneel to her level, and gently take her chin, lifting it so she looks at you.

What you see stops you cold. Jinx's nails are deeply embedded in her palms, red marks that have hurt her, as if she wants to punish herself for something. You stare at her intently, the pain reflected in her eyes and her gesture.

Quickly, you take her hands, without saying a word, and kiss them softly, your lips touching the small wounds on her skin. The blood from her hands stains your lips, but you don't care. "You know I hate seeing you destroy yourself," you murmur, your voice broken by the fear you still feel. "Please, Sweets, don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to us."

You stay still, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the door that had closed in her heart opens, and Jinx lets out a deep sob. Tears fall down her face, like an unexpected rain, and her body trembles.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Jinx sobs, clutching you tightly. There are no more laughs, no more jokes. Just pure pain. And you hold her with equal intensity, rocking her in your arms, trying to soothe her, to erase the suffering she always carries inside.

"Pain isn't the solution," you whisper, stroking her braided hair, trying to convey all the love you feel for her. "I'll always be here for you, Sweets. You don't have to carry all this alone."

She remains silent for a moment, her sobs calming, but her embrace is still desperate. Finally, after a few seconds, her eyes lift, and with a small smile, she says:

"So... want to make bombs, but in a fun way? With less blood this time!"

The laughter that follows fills the room, and even though you know the battle isn't won, this small step in her recovery gives you renewed hope. Taking her hand, you lead her back to the table with the tools, ready for another night filled with madness... but this time, with a little more care.

Vi

The air in the Undercity feels heavy tonight, a cold that seems to seep into your bones. The sound of metal echoing through the structures, the distant murmurs of shouts and laughter, mix with the echo of your footsteps on the iron bridge that crosses the dark, grimy avenue. You walk in silence, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Suddenly, a drunk, staggering with a vacant stare, approaches you. The stench of alcohol wafts from his breath, and his eyes settle on you in a not-so-friendly way. His rough, hollow laughter resonates in the air, as if nothing he was about to do mattered.

Before you can react, his hands touch your backside without warning, sending a wave of revulsion through you and a shiver down your spine.

A choked scream escapes you, but before you can push him away, you feel Vi’s furious gaze, like a storm about to break loose. The anger on her face is palpable, and not a second later, the drunk is on the ground, receiving blows that thunder like hammers. His face is soon covered in blood, and the sound of fists pounding against his body leaves a disturbing feeling in the air.

Vi doesn’t stop; each punch is more brutal than the last. People in the distance quickly disperse, leaving only the echo of the hits. Your heart races, worry consumes you as you watch Vi unleash her uncontrollable fury.

"Vi, stop!" You lunge toward her, but in the process, one of her fury-fueled punches lands directly on your lip. The immediate pain stuns you, and when you touch your face, your hand is filled with blood. The split lip burns. Vi stops abruptly, looking at her bloodstained knuckles—her own, the drunk’s, and now yours.

She stands frozen, her face, once filled with rage, now shows a look of horror. “Oh, God…” she murmurs, seeing what she has done.

You tremble, not just from the pain in your lip but from the brutality of her actions. You’re not used to violence, not on this magnitude. Fear knots in your chest, and you let out a shaky sigh as you watch Vi, her face now wrecked with guilt.

"I didn’t mean to!" Her voice is broken, as if the guilt is overwhelming her.

“Let’s go home,” you respond coldly, more out of fear than anger, "and when we get there, we’ll talk."

The walk home is silent, the tension hanging between you like a taut string about to snap. When you arrive, you enter the kitchen and quickly tend to your lip, while Vi watches silently, unable to articulate a word.

Once you finish, you turn to her. The air is thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “Vi…” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “You need to learn to control your anger. This time, you just didn’t hurt someone else. This time, it was me too. Me, the person you love the most. Do you realize that? Do you realize how I felt when your blows landed on me?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and her throat tightens as if she wants to say something, but the words are stuck in her chest. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

You continue, your words coming out with more pain than you expected. “Sometimes… I’m afraid of you, Vi. Not because of what you might do to others, but because of what you might do to me. I don’t want to live in fear of your rage hurting me. It hurts so much. It hurt so much.”

Vi collapses in front of you, breaking down. Her tears fall one after another, and she throws herself into your arms, holding you in a desperate embrace. “I don’t know why I’m like this… I don’t know how… how to control it. I always have this rage inside, and sometimes I don’t know how to stop it. When it explodes, everything goes to hell, I know…” Her voice cracks as she clings to you. "I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you."

The softness in her tone hits you harder than any punch, and in that moment, you know she understands. "Vi, I… I don’t want you to hurt anymore," you murmur, caressing her back. "I don’t want that rage to control you."

She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, her face soaked in tears. “I’m so sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention… but sometimes…” her words trail off in a sigh.

A small, sad smile forms on your face. “Have you thought about boxing? Maybe it’ll help you release all that. And I’ll go with you! But promise me you won’t use me as a punching bag, okay?" you joke with a smile, trying to lighten the moment.

Vi finally laughs, a laugh that feels like relief. “I promise. Just, please, don’t leave me, okay?”

You approach her, tenderly kissing her, careful to avoid the wound on your lip, and you feel the softness of her lips, the calm that finally settles between you. “I would never leave you, babe,” you whisper as you both embrace, knowing that, even though everything is complicated and painful, there is something between you that always keeps you together.

Caitlyn

The door bursts open, and Caitlyn enters the room with a face marked by a fury that seems to burn inside her. Your eyes lift from where you're sitting, a little surprised by her abrupt entrance, but you quickly see what has been happening.

"I can't believe what I had to hear today," Caitlyn throws out, her voice cold and cutting as she drops her jacket on a chair. "All because of your... damn ideas of justice. Do you have any idea what that means in this place?"

You stand up slowly, the tone of her voice making the air grow denser, heavier. "What happened, Cait?" you ask, though part of you already knows it has something to do with her ideals.

"It's not just what happened, it's what's happening. All the damn time," she responds, walking toward you with contained rage. "You go on and on about doing what's right, without understanding that ‘right’ isn’t always what people in high places think. You think you can change something, but all you're doing is making it worse."

Your heart races, and a spark of frustration rises in your chest. "Make it worse?" you repeat, feeling indignation begin to spill out of you. "Is that what you think? That my actions aren't worth it? You're so blinded by your perfect view of the world that you can't see what's really going on in the streets! Evil isn't just in the ‘high society,’ Caitlyn. It's everywhere."

Caitlyn looks at you with an intensity that almost seems defiant, but also wounded. "I'm not blind, the problem is that I can't understand why you keep going against the whole system. Every time you do, you just feed more chaos. You have to think about the consequences, about the people who can't afford those ideals you're defending like you're some fairy-tale hero. Not everyone can afford that luxury."

"A luxury?" Your voice rises slightly, now stronger. "What you call 'luxury' should be a right. Do you really not understand that people are suffering? That your 'system' is letting all of this crumble just to maintain power? I can't just stand by because you think it's fine because it looks neat from your tower."

Caitlyn steps back, as if your words hit some deep place inside her. "Not everything is as simple as ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Sometimes things aren’t black or white. Sometimes you have to make concessions to move forward. What you’re doing is just putting yourself in the center, without understanding that there’s more at stake."

The words hang in the air between you two, and the intensity of the argument seems to rise with every exchange. Caitlyn is so convinced of her point of view that you can't help but feel frustrated by the barrier between you.

"What I understand, Caitlyn," you finally say, with a tense calm, "is that sometimes you do more harm by trying to follow the rules than by breaking them. And I know your intentions are good, but I can't stay silent watching you justify the unjustifiable."

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a moment, as if taking a breath to calm herself. When she opens them again, something has changed. It’s not that her anger has disappeared, but she seems more exhausted, as if all this is wearing her down. "I’m not asking you to agree with me. I'm just asking you to understand that sometimes, even if it hurts, decisions aren’t as easy as you see them."

There's a long silence between you, the air thick with discomfort and tension. You both know you're not going to come to an agreement this time, but you also know that won't change what lies between you.

Finally, Caitlyn sighs and sits on the edge of the table, letting the exhaustion take over her. "Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right, no matter what I try," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. "And you... you make me see everything that's wrong with me."

You move a little closer, calmer but still hurt. "Cait, that's not what I want. What I want is for you to realize you don’t have to carry all of this on your own. You don’t have to keep walking down this path if it doesn't make you happy. I’m here for you, even when we don’t agree."

Caitlyn looks at you, her eyes reflecting some vulnerability, something she doesn't usually show. "I know. I just… I’m scared that I could lose everything I’ve built because... because I don't know when to stop."

You sit next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You’re not going to lose it, Cait. No matter how much we fight, what matters is that we’re in this together. But you also have to learn to take care of yourself, not just the world."

Caitlyn nods slowly, and for the first time in a long while, a small smile appears on her face, though it’s sad. "I guess sometimes I forget that."

The tension begins to dissipate, although the brush of differences is still there. Deep down, you both know that these kinds of discussions won’t end anytime soon, but you also know that you're both moving forward for something bigger than the disagreement.

Jayce

There was something heavy in the air that night. An uncomfortable silence that hadn't been able to break for the past few days. Despite being in the same house, in the same room, you felt farther away from Jayce than ever. It wasn't just the lack of physical contact, it wasn't just the absence of the small gestures that usually made everything work between you. It was something deeper, something that had been growing inside you without him realizing it.

Finally, you couldn’t hold it any longer. You sat on the bed, staring into the emptiness in front of you, and when he walked in, that feeling of discouragement completely overwhelmed you. Without looking at him, you started.

“Jayce, I don’t know what to think anymore,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “It’s been days since… since we’ve had anything. And I’m not just talking about sex, I’m talking about everything. I don’t even feel like you desire me anymore.”

Jayce, who had been in his own world as usual, looked up at you, confused by your words. “What are you saying, honey?” Surprise was evident in his voice, but it wasn’t enough to calm the torrent that had been unleashed inside you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You stood up from the bed, walking towards him, words pouring out like a torrent. “Every day, I feel like I’m just here, fitting into your perfect life. Everything we do, everything we plan, it feels like you’re doing it because you have to. What about what I want, Jayce? What about us?”

Jayce took a step towards you, opening his arms as if he wanted to get closer, but something in your gaze made him stop. “No… I don’t understand. What do you mean by fitting into my perfect life?”

Your breathing quickened. “What I mean is that sometimes, I feel like I’m just an accessory, another piece in the puzzle you’ve been putting together. Like what matters most to you is making everything look right, fitting, but not us. I don’t feel desired, Jayce. I feel empty, like I don’t matter, like I’m just here because I fit into your life, not because you actually want to be with me.”

The pain in your voice was palpable, and although Jayce tried to step closer, you moved away from him. “I’m so tired of feeling like we’re nothing more than two people sharing a space. There’s no passion, no connection… Just the idea of what’s expected of us.”

Jayce looked completely lost, like he never imagined you felt this way. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. You know how important you are to me. But I… I’ve been so focused on work, on everything we need to achieve, that…”

“That what?” you interrupted, unable to keep bearing what felt like a pile of excuses. “That you’re too busy to see what’s right in front of you? I have my own problems too, Jayce. Not everything revolves around your projects, your perfect image. I’m a person too, and my feelings matter too.”

The words hung in the air, between rage and pain. Jayce didn’t say anything, and that only increased the feeling of abandonment you were experiencing. Frustration and sadness took over you more and more. Finally, the silence was broken, but not in the way you expected.

“Honey…” Jayce started, his voice softer now, but still full of confusion. “I didn’t want to make you feel this way. I didn’t realize I was leaving you out. I didn’t want you to feel… unwanted.”

Your eyes filled with tears, the emotional pressure of being unheard for so long finally bursting. “I don’t want to be just another option in your life. I want to be loved, I want to feel desired, I want you to look at me like you’re afraid of losing me. And I don’t feel that from you. I feel like everything we do is a routine, just fulfilling what’s supposed to be.”

Jayce slowly approached, now understanding the gravity of your words. “I… I don’t know how I didn’t see all this. I’m sorry, honey. I really am. I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been so focused on everything else that… I’ve failed you.”

A heavy silence fell between you. You didn’t know what to think, just felt a knot in your stomach, but when Jayce took a step towards you, taking your hands, you couldn’t help but look him in the eyes, searching for some sign that he truly understood how you felt.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his tone full of sincerity. “I promise I’ll change, I won’t take you for granted. You’re the most important thing to me, and if I made you feel like you weren’t, it hurts me deeply.”

You looked at him intently, seeing in his eyes the truth of his regret. “I know… but I need you to act instead of just saying it.”

Jayce nodded, a glimpse of a smile appearing on his face as his hands caressed yours. “I will. From now on, you and I… we’re a priority.”

Your heart lightened hearing those words, and when he hugged you, you held him tightly, knowing that the road to healing that disconnection wouldn’t be easy, but at least, finally, there was a beginning. And that promise to rebuild what had been lost was all you needed to start healing.

Ekko

That afternoon, it felt like the tension between you and Ekko was thicker than ever. You had been working together on a project, and the small jokes and dismissive attitudes from Ekko, which you usually let slide, began to affect you more than you expected.

"Wow, did you really think that was a good idea?" Ekko said, his biting tone making the sarcasm leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Your breath became heavier, and although you tried to ignore it, something inside you snapped. You looked at him, furious, and without thinking twice, dropped the tool you had in your hands. "You know what? I'm leaving."

Ekko looked at you, somewhat surprised by your reaction, but before you could walk away any further, he let out a light laugh, as if nothing was happening. "What's up, got your period or something?"

That was the breaking point.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a lump form in your throat. You turned to him with eyes shining with frustration. "You know what, Ekko? It's because of you. Because sometimes you don't seem to think about what you say, and you don't care how I feel."

Ekko furrowed his brow, trying to understand what you were saying, but before he could speak, you continued venting.

"You make me feel like my problems don't matter, like everything I do isn't up to your standards. Always so... so carefree, like you never have to think about how your words affect me. Have you ever thought about that?" Rage and pain built up in your voice as you spoke, but the words kept pouring out like an avalanche.

And then, without warning, what you hadn’t been able to say before came flooding out. "You know what's the worst? That I feel insecure, Ekko. I feel like I'm not good enough for you, like I'm not smart enough, not attractive enough... Because you never show jealousy, you never show anything. Like you never care. And that makes me doubt myself."

Ekko went silent, looking at your face in surprise, an expression that showed he finally understood what you had just said. The mockery from his previous joke faded, and his face shifted from confusion to deep seriousness.

"I... I didn't know you felt that way," he said finally, his words soft and filled with guilt. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I'm sorry, really. I'm not good at showing what I feel, I've never been."

He slowly approached you, not trying to interrupt the flow of your emotions. "You know, I grew up in a world where showing emotions was seen as weakness. Life never gave me time to process them. Since I was a kid, I was always at war, always on the move, always worried about surviving. But I never wanted that to affect you."

Your eyes softened a little as you listened to his words, and for a moment, the weight of frustration lifted slightly. "I... I didn't want you to think I cared less. It's just that sometimes, I get so caught up in my own stuff that I forget that the people close to me also have feelings. And I don't want you to feel belittled, I don't want you to feel like you're not enough."

There was a tense silence between you both, but something in his tone softened the atmosphere. "I'm sorry, really. It was never my intention to hurt you. You're incredible just as you are, and you make me feel like I can be more, like I can improve."

For a moment, everything seemed to calm down, but Ekko, with a mischievous smile, added, "And if it helps, yeah, I do worry a little when others look at you. But I'm not so good at showing jealousy."

You couldn't help but smile a little, even though you still felt the open wounds. Ekko, seeing this, moved a bit closer and gave you a gentle hug, as if it were a small gesture of comfort you so needed.

"I really care about you. I don't want you to feel insecure. I don't care if you're smarter or not, because what really matters to me is that you're you."

And before you could respond, Ekko joked with his usual playful attitude. "Although, if I ever catch you with someone else, you'd better be ready, because I’m not going to sit still."

You laughed despite everything, feeling the tension slowly disappearing, as if everything you had kept inside had finally found a way out.

"I love you too," you replied, as you hugged him again, knowing that, although the path wouldn’t always be easy, at least you both understood each other a little more.

Silco

Silco's office was shrouded in shadows, barely illuminated by the dim glow of a lamp on his desk. The phone conversation he was having was filled with frustration. "No, that won't work. We need something more decisive, something more substantial," he growled before hanging up with a sharp click that echoed through the wood.

From your position at the door, you could hear every word, feeling the tension in the air. You couldn’t help but intervene. "Maybe you could try..." you began, suggesting a plan you had come up with after hearing his problem.

Silco looked up at you, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto yours. "Shut up. You don't know anything about this," he snapped with disdain, his words cutting through you like a knife.

The coldness in his voice felt like a blow to the chest. Without saying another word, you turned around and stormed out of the office, slamming the door with a force that resonated down the hallway. Frustration burned in your chest as you climbed the stairs to your room.

Surprised by your reaction, Silco followed. Reaching the closed door, he knocked forcefully. "Open the door immediately!" he shouted, his tone a mix of anger and confusion.

"I won't! Go away!" you replied from inside, your voice trembling with both rage and pain. A sound from inside made his heart race. Fearing the worst, he broke down the door without thinking twice.

Inside, he found you packing your things with trembling hands. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on you, trying to understand the magnitude of your decision.

"I'm done, Silco. Done with you not seeing me as someone capable of helping you, done with you constantly underestimating me," you declared, your voice trembling but resolute. "I’m a human being, just like you, and I can handle matters and plans. I’m not just a decoration in your world."

Silco scoffed, crossing his arms in impatience. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you want me to buy you something? You look hysterical."

That was the breaking point. You turned to face him, your eyes fiery and filled with tears. "Silco, remember where you found me. I was a worker in that horrible brothel, sold by my parents at eleven. I thought that by freeing myself, I would have a voice, that finally someone would see me as an equal. But it’s not like that. You don’t even listen to me."

Silco looked at you, his eyes softening as the weight of your words sank in. He approached you cautiously, his fingers touching your cheek with an unusual tenderness. "It's not personal," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I’ve always been like this, I prefer to work alone. I’ve been through so much to earn respect in the Undercity that sometimes I minimize the opinions of others. But I never meant for you to feel this way, not you."

The wall of pain you had built began to crack under the weight of his words. "I’ll change. From now on, I’ll listen to what you have to say. In fact, tell me that plan you were going to propose earlier."

A pause lingered, but then, with a sigh, he added: "But before that, there’s something more important."

His words echoed in the silence before Silco took you by the waist, pulling you toward him. He kissed you with a passion that overflowed with unspoken apologies, a fire that spoke of promises of change and a renewed understanding between you both.

Mel

The luxurious bedroom was bathed in soft lights that enhanced the golden and ivory tones of the walls. You turned in front of the mirror, admiring how the dress flowed around your body, highlighting your curves and cascading elegantly in a fabric waterfall. The excitement of the night reflected in your eyes, waiting for Mel's approval.

When you stepped out of the dressing room, the smile on your lips quickly faded as you noticed the disapproving expression on her face. Mel looked you up and down, her gaze critical and stern. "Take it off," she ordered in a cold, distant tone. "Put on the one I chose for you."

You frowned, surprised. "Why? What's wrong with this one?"

"It’s not that there's anything wrong with it," she replied, crossing her arms with an air of authority. "It’s just not what I want for you tonight. Change your makeup and hairstyle as well. Something more sophisticated would be better."

The heat rushed to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Nothing I do is good enough for you, right?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparking with indignation. "It feels like you always have to correct me."

Mel raised an eyebrow, her voice firm and unapologetic. "You should be grateful. I'm helping you make the most of your appearance. I need us to be perfect tonight."

"You mean you need to be perfect," you corrected, unbuckling your heels and throwing them to the floor with a sharp sound. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Without waiting for a response, you made your way to the terrace, needing fresh air to calm the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you. The cool breeze caressed your face as you leaned on the railing, trying to hold back tears.

It wasn’t long before Mel appeared behind you, her elegant silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. "Why are you acting like this?" she asked, her voice softer now, but still tinged with confusion.

"Seriously, Mel?" you turned to face her, your voice shaking with frustration. "Nothing I do seems right to you. You always correct me—the way I walk, the way I talk, and now even the color of my lipstick. It’s extreme and stupid."

Mel looked at you with a mix of surprise and reflection, as if your words had struck her for the first time. "I hadn’t thought of it that way," she finally admitted, her voice quieter. "I guess... I’m really hard on myself, and I project it onto others."

You took a deep breath, your eyes still shining with contained emotion. "I don’t want you to be like that with me. I’m not an extension of your standards, Mel."

Silence stretched between you for a moment before Mel took a step forward, enveloping you in a firm, comforting hug. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. You’re fine just as you are, and I apologize for projecting my insecurities onto you."

You leaned into her, feeling the tension slowly fade. "I understand," you replied softly. "I know you were raised to be perfect. But please, when you feel those things, communicate them in a different way. Don’t impose them."

Mel nodded, her gaze meeting yours with a mix of regret and affection. "I will," she promised. "Please, come with me to the party. Without you, I won’t have the strength to go."

You hesitated for a moment, looking at yourself with insecurity. Mel noticed and gently cupped your face in her hands. "That dress looks amazing on you," she said with a warm smile. "It highlights everything I love about you."

Her words and the kiss that followed dispelled any doubt, filling you with renewed confidence as you agreed to accompany her, knowing this time, you would go as yourself, not as a perfected version to satisfy Mel's standards.

Sevika

The apartment door opened slowly, revealing Sevika's figure in the dim light. She walked in with tired steps, the weight of the night reflecting on her shoulders. You, who had been waiting patiently for her return, stood up from the couch with relief, but as you approached to embrace her, something stopped you. A strange scent, sweet and foreign, emanated from her skin, a fragrance that didn’t belong to any perfume you knew her to wear.

Your heart raced as you took a slight step back, your eyes fixed on her. "Who were you with?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, although a mix of anxiety and distrust began to rise within you.

Sevika looked at you in surprise, not understanding the reason for your unease. "I was at the bar, drinking. My ex joined me, we talked a bit, had a good time." She said it with such casualness that every word pierced you like a poisoned dart.

Anger began to bubble up inside you. "Why are you talking about it so casually?" you spat, feeling your voice start to tremble.

She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You shouldn’t have gone out with your ex!" you exclaimed, frustration coloring your words. "You owe me respect."

Sevika crossed her arms, her gaze hardening. "I do what I want," she replied coldly. "If you don’t trust me, maybe you should leave."

Your eyes widened at her comment. The idea of walking out that door tempted you, but sadness and rage kept you rooted to the ground. "Is that what you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "For me to leave?"

Sevika seemed to realize the weight of her words. She took a step toward you, extending her hand as if trying to stop you. "Wait, I didn’t mean that," she murmured, her tone softer, almost pleading. "You know I’m impulsive."

"Of course, impulsive... and nostalgic too," you replied bitterly, your eyes burning with contained pain. "You miss your ex, don’t you? You want to get back together with her?"

She frowned, stepping closer until her hands rested on your shoulders. "What’s your problem?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "Why are you saying all these things?"

The emotions you had kept under control for so long finally exploded. "Because I’ve been cheated on before!" you confessed, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "I know the patterns when I see them. I don’t want to feel stupid and used again."

The hardness in Sevika’s expression melted away, replaced by deep understanding. Her hands, once firm, slid down your arms in a gesture of comfort. "I’m not those people, you shouldn’t compare me to anyone," she said, her voice firm but full of empathy. "If I didn’t want to be with you, I would tell you. I don’t need to lie to anyone. I love you, only you."

Her sincerity pierced your insecurities, breaking down the wall of fear you had built. Still, doubts lingered. "Then why did you go out with her?" you asked, still needing an explanation.

"Because it was a coincidence," Sevika explained, her gaze sincere. "We ran into each other by chance, and I thought there was nothing wrong with sharing a couple of drinks. But now I see it bothers you, and I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel this way."

Her words resonated within you, slowly calming the internal storm. You nodded, allowing the warmth of her promise to envelop you. "I want to believe in you," you whispered.

Sevika stepped closer, her lips finding yours in a deep kiss, full of promises and silent regrets. When she pulled away, her soft voice broke the trance. "Are you better?" she asked, gently caressing your cheek.

"I'll be better when you take a shower and get that cheap perfume off," you joked, your tone still slightly irritated but with a hint of humor.

Sevika laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed in the space between you. She pulled you by the waist, drawing you even closer. "Then I’m going to need your help," she whispered in your ear, her voice laden with seduction. "Tonight, I feel especially incapable."

Your smile widened, a spark of mischief lighting your eyes. "I guess I can help with that," you murmured, letting the intimacy of the moment take over, knowing that despite everything, you were in the place you wanted to be: by her side.

[bloodyjuls-blog]

NOTHING MUCH(Russo's sister X Leah Williamson)

Kay Russo had always been Alessia’s shadow. Since they were little girls, Alessia was the star of the family: the one who shined on the football field, the one who made her parents proud, the one who had a solid group of friends who seemed to want to crush anyone who didn’t fit into their perfect world. Kay, on the other hand, was “the other.” It wasn’t that she wasn’t talented; it just never seemed like enough.

As they grew up, the differences became more pronounced. Alessia had a clear path: Manchester United, the English national team, and eventually Arsenal. On the other hand, Kay was stuck in mediocre jobs and awful comments from her parents and sister. “Why can’t you be more like Alessia?” was a phrase she heard all too often.

The relationship between Kay and Alessia was tense, but the breaking point came one night, when Alessia, along with a group of her friends, began to make fun of Kay in front of everyone at a family gathering.

“And you, Kay?” “What have you been up to lately?” Alessia said with a venomous smile. “Did you find a job or are you still living off of mom and dad’s money?”

Laughter echoed around the room, and though Kay tried to keep her composure, she felt her stomach churn with shame. That night, locked in her room, Kay collapsed on her bed with her eyes filled with tears. She knew she had to change something in her life and escape that toxic dynamic. It was then that while surfing the internet, she saw an ad for the Royal Navy: “Find a purpose. Discover your potential. Join the Royal Navy.”

Kay didn’t think twice. She knew that enlisting was her ticket out, but she also knew that her family would never understand. So she made a drastic decision: she didn’t tell them anything. The following week, the recruitment process began.

A few weeks later, Kay received confirmation: she had been accepted. The date to report was marked on her calendar, and as it approached, she felt a mix of nerves and relief. One night before she left, she decided she should at least tell her family something, but not everything.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll be gone for a while,” she said over dinner.

Her mother looked up from her plate with disdain.

“On ​​vacation? With what money?” she asked sarcastically.

Kay took a deep breath, trying not to lose her cool. “Never mind, I just wanted to let them know.”

Alessia laughed softly and murmured, “Always so mysterious.”

Kay gritted her teeth, finishing her meal in silence. That would be the last dinner she would share with them for a long time.

The day Kay left, she left home early, carrying a backpack and leaving behind a short note on the kitchen table: “I’m gone. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Take care of yourselves.”

The months that followed were a whirlwind. Basic training in the Royal Navy was brutal, but Kay held on to it with determination. Every physical exercise, every lesson, every grueling hour felt like a step toward freedom. Here she wasn't "Alessia's sister," she didn't have to endure her family's hurtful comments. Here she was simply Kay, someone trying hard to find her place.

After completing her training, Kay was given her first leave. She decided to return home, even though she knew it would be difficult.

When she arrived, the reception was cold. Alessia wasn’t even there; she was away on a trip with her team. Her parents barely showed any interest in hearing about her experience in the Navy.

“So what’s next?” her father asked in an indifferent tone. “Are you going to be here long?”

Kay felt the knot in her chest grow bigger. That night, as Alessia posted pictures on Instagram with her teammates, Kay sat alone in the backyard, wondering if she would ever truly belong in this family.

It was during one of those visits home that Kay met Leah Williamson. Alessia had invited some of her teammates over for dinner, and though Kay tried to stay out of the way, she couldn’t help but run into them. Leah was kind, something Kay hadn’t expected. They had a brief but meaningful conversation, and in that moment, Kay felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: connection.

Kay returned to her base after that brief visit home. The experience only reinforced what she already knew: her family would not change. But one thing remained in her mind: Leah Williamson. They had exchanged a few words over dinner, but there was something about her warmth, the way she seemed to see Kay as a person, and not as a shadow of Alessia. Leah didn’t know her, she was unprejudiced, and that made her different.

The day Kay had her first chance to visit London while on leave, she remembered that Leah was playing for Arsenal. She decided to take a chance and attend a match. It was strange to be surrounded by thousands of fans excited about something that, until recently, had been a source of insecurity for her: football and the shadow of her sister. Alessia was not on the team yet, which made the experience a little more bearable.

After the match, Leah, who had played spectacularly, was surrounded by fans and media. Kay watched her from a distance, trying to convince herself that she would simply leave without saying anything. But Leah saw her.

“Kay!” she called from the field, waving excitedly.

Kay froze for a moment before shyly approaching.

“What are you doing here babe?” Leah asked, clearly surprised but pleased.

Kay shrugged, trying not to look nervous. “I was in town and thought I’d come to watch the game.”

Leah smiled, and something in her expression made Kay feel less invisible. “I’m glad you came. Do you have plans now?”

Before she could stop herself, Kay shook her head. That night, they ended up having dinner together at a small, low-key restaurant near the stadium. It was the start of something unexpected.

As the months passed, Kay’s visits to London became more frequent. She always found an excuse to see her, and Leah seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed Leah’s. They talked about everything: life in the Navy, the challenges of being a professional soccer player, and, occasionally, Kay’s family struggles.

One night, as they walked through the quiet streets of London after dinner, Leah stopped and looked at her seriously.

“Kay, why don’t you ever talk about Alessia much? I know you are sisters, but you almost seem to avoid mentioning her.”

Kay looked at the ground, feeling her chest tighten. Talking about Alessia was like opening a wound that never healed.

“It’s complicated, Leah. I’ve always been… different to them. Alessia’s the star, the one who shines. I… I just exist on the periphery.”

Leah took her hand, an unexpected but comforting gesture. “That’s not fair, Kay. You shouldn’t feel that way.”

Kay looked up, surprised by Leah’s sincerity. It was at that moment that she knew this connection was something special.

As her relationship with Leah grew stronger, Kay knew there would be trouble sooner or later. Leah was a public figure, and although she hadn’t revealed details of her personal life to the world, speculation was constant. The Arsenal team was full of rumors about who Leah’s partner could be, but no one suspected Kay. Alessia, still playing in Manchester, had no idea that her younger sister was getting so close to one of her friends.

Kay also knew that her family wouldn’t approve of the relationship, not only because of who Leah was, but because the idea that she could have anything valuable in her life seemed inconceivable to them.

Everything changed when Kay received the news of a new deployment abroad. It was a high-risk mission, and although she was used to challenges, this time was different. Now she had something to lose. When she told Leah, the reaction was immediate.

“How long will you be gone honey?” Leah asked, trying to remain calm.

“I don’t know but it could be months.” Leah nodded and cuddled her, but Kay could see the worry in her eyes. That night, as they said goodbye, Leah hugged her tighter than usual.

“Just promise me you’ll come back, okay?”

Kay didn’t answer, because she knew that was a promise she couldn’t guarantee.

During deployment, Kay was severely wounded in an ambush. The bullet that hit her back damaged her spine, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Doctors told her she would never walk again. The physical pain was immense, but the emotional blow was even worse.

When she was finally able to reach Leah from the military hospital, the conversation was brief but full of emotion.

“I’m alive,” was the first thing Kay said, her voice shaking.

Leah, on the other end of the line, let out a sigh of relief, but she couldn’t hide her worry. “What happened, Kay? Tell me the truth.”

Kay closed her eyes, feeling the tears begin to flow. “I’m in a wheelchair, Leah.” I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.

The silence on the other end of the line was painful, but when Leah finally spoke, her voice was firm. “I’m going to be with you, Kay. No matter what.”

Kay spent weeks in the military hospital, facing the reality of her condition. Doctors stabilized her, but the words she most feared hearing finally came: she would never walk again. She wasn’t ready to face it. Her life as she knew it had changed forever. The military, her only refuge, was also out of reach.

London became her next destination. The medical staff recommended that she be transferred to a civilian hospital where she could receive specialized treatment and subsequently begin the rehabilitation process. When Kay thought about where she could stay afterward, only one person came to mind: Leah.

Leah waited for Kay at Heathrow Airport, visibly worried. Even though she had received constant updates about her condition, seeing her in person would be an emotional challenge. When Kay appeared in the wheelchair, pushed by a hospital attendant, Leah felt her heart tighten in her chest.

Kay wore a stoic expression as if she was using all her strength to keep her emotions in check. Leah could see past that, though. Kay’s eyes, once full of life, now reflected exhaustion and pain.

“Hi my love" Kay said quietly as she came to her side.

Leah leaned in to hug her, ignoring the fact that they were in the middle of a crowded airport. It was a long hug, one they both needed.

“Welcome home baby,” Leah said softly leaning against her and kiss her deeply.

Kay wanted to correct her, reminding her that London wasn’t her home, but she couldn’t find the words. Maybe, after all, Leah was the closest thing she had to a home.

Leah’s London flat was cozy but small, and the modifications needed to accommodate the wheelchair made the space feel even more cramped. Leah had worked tirelessly to get everything ready, installing ramps and rearranging furniture. Kay felt grateful, but also deeply uncomfortable.

“You didn’t have to do all this, Le” Kay said as she scanned the space with difficulty.

Leah, who was making a cup of tea, turned to her with a calm smile. “Of course I did. I wasn’t going to let you go through this alone.”

Kay nodded, but inside, guilt and frustration were growing. She wasn’t used to depending on anyone, let alone someone as important to her as Leah.

The first few weeks were a mix of intense emotions. Kay tried to keep a routine, attending physical therapy sessions and learning to adjust to her new life. However, every little failure—not being able to reach something, needing help with simple tasks—felt like a monumental defeat.

One night, while Leah was cooking, Kay decided it was time to talk about what had happened at the military hospital. It was a weight she had carried alone for far too long.

“Leah, can you sit down for a moment?”

Leah stopped what she was doing and sat across from Kay in the living room. The concern on her face was evident.

“What’s wrong, Kay?”

Kay took a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly. “There’s something I need to tell you about what they did to me in the Navy before all the injuries happened.”

Leah nodded, her expression becoming more serious. “I’m listening.”

Kay began to speak, her voice shaky at first, but gaining strength as she went on. She told him about the treatments she’d endured: the electroshocks they justified as “experimental therapy,” the times they’d left her alone for hours without help, and the “rehab” sessions that often included pushing her physically to the limit.

“There were days I thought… I wasn’t going to get out of there. They yelled at me that I needed to be strong, that if I couldn’t take it, I didn’t deserve to be in the military.”

Leah clenched her fists as she listened, her face reflecting a mix of anger and sadness.

“How could they do that to you?” she finally asked, her voice cracking.

“It’s the price of being weak in their world, Leah. They couldn’t stand someone like me not being “useful” anymore.”

Leah leaned forward, taking Kay’s hands in hers. “Listen to me, Kay. What they did was inhumane, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are one of the strongest people I know.”

The tears Kay had been holding back finally began to fall. Leah didn’t say anything else, she held her, allowing her to release all the pain she had built up over the months.

Alessia’s arrival at Arsenal added a new layer of tension to Kay’s life. Although both had avoided any confrontation, Alessia’s passive-aggressive comments were quick to appear.

One afternoon, while Leah and Kay were at home, Alessia arrived unannounced. Leah had forgotten to lock her door, and Alessia walked in like she owned the place.

“So this is where you’re hiding, Kay?” Alessia said, with a sarcastic smile as she looked around the apartment.

Leah, who was in the kitchen, quickly came out upon hearing Alessia’s tone. “What are you doing here, Alessia?”

“I just wanted to see how my long-lost sister lived. It seems you’ve been busy… or should I say ‘well-kept’?”

Kay, who was in the living room, turned to face Alessia. “What do you want, Alessia?”

“I want to understand how you went from being a ghost to… this.” She pointed at Leah with a nod.

Leah, clearly upset, stepped in. “Alessia, if you come here to cause trouble, you can leave.”

The exchange escalated, and Kay felt old wounds reopening. Alessia had always known how to touch her weak spots, and Leah was caught in the middle. Eventually, Leah had to ask Alessia to leave, leaving Kay emotionally drained.

Despite the conflicts, the relationship between Kay and Leah continued to grow stronger. The emotional connection they shared was evident, and small displays of affection—a hand on the shoulder, an unexpected hug—began to evolve into something more.

One night, while watching a movie together, Leah leaned slightly toward Kay, resting her head on her shoulder. Kay, surprised at first, allowed the gesture and smiled.

It was a small moment of intimacy, but to Kay, it meant more than Leah could ever imagine.

Winter had come to the city, and with it, the streets of London were filled with Christmas lights and decorations. Kay, however, barely noticed the festivities. Her days were divided between physical therapy, medical adjustments, and increasingly intimate moments with Leah. However, the conflict with Alessia and the memories of the abuse at the military compound weighed on her like a constant shadow.

One morning, as Kay tried to adjust to the new exercise routine her physical therapist had recommended, Leah received an unexpected text from Alessia. She wanted to “talk.”

“Is it a good idea to give her space after what happened here?” Kay asked from her spot in the living room, as Leah checked the message.

Leah sighed, leaving her phone on the table. “I think it’s not just you, Kay. Alessia… she has issues to work out with herself.”

Kay raised an eyebrow. “Don’t justify what she does. She’s always found ways to make me feel like I’m worthless.” Leah walked over and knelt in front of Kay, placing her hands over hers. “No one has the right to make you feel that way. Not even Alessia.”

Kay wanted to believe her, but the years of emotional abuse she had endured were not easy to forget.

That afternoon, Leah went to Arsenal Stadium to meet Alessia after training. Alessia, who had been in a bad mood all day, was quick to spill the beans.

“What the hell are you doing with Kay?” Alessia asked bluntly as Leah closed the door to the meeting room.

Leah, trying to remain calm, replied, “I’m looking out for her. Something no one else is doing.”

“Looking out?” Alessia let out a sarcastic laugh. “Since when do you need to play savior?”

Leah frowned. “This isn’t a game, Alessia.” Kay has been through things that neither you nor I can imagine, and instead of supporting her, you--

“Don’t lecture me!” Alessia interrupted, slamming her hands on the table. “Kay has always been a burden. Every time I tried to stand out, she was there, ruining everything.”

Leah felt her patience wearing thin. “You know what ruins everything, Alessia? Your inability to see her as anything more than a reflection of your insecurities.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Alessia hadn’t expected such a direct response, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

“This isn’t over, Leah,” she finally said, before leaving the room.

That night, Leah returned to the apartment emotionally drained. Kay noticed her expression and decided it was time to share something she had been holding back.

“What happened?” Kay asked as Leah plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Your sister… doesn’t understand anything,” Leah replied, massaging her temples.

Kay sighed and looked out the window. “It’s because she’s never seen me as her sister, Leah. I was always ‘the other Russo.’ The one with no talent. The one who didn’t fit in.”

Leah turned to her, surprised by the tone of vulnerability in her voice.

“You want to know why I joined the Royal Navy?” Kay asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Leah nodded, knowing Kay needed to vent.

“I saw an ad online while I was looking for a job. It seemed like a way to escape everything… from Alessia, from my family, from myself. I wanted to prove that I could do something for myself, something that no one could take away from me.”

Kay paused, her hands shaking as she recalled those days.

“But even then… it was never enough. And then… then came the hospital.”

Leah took her hand, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

Kay shook her head. “I need to. Because if I don’t, those things are going to keep haunting me.”

Then, Kay began to speak, detailing the horrors she had endured. She described the time when she had arrived at the hospital very badly injured thinking that what had happened was her fault, or that it was all karma for being fragile and not facing things, where she would rather a thousand times have her die than have a partner who had a family that loved him.

“There was a doctor… I will never forget her face.” She told me I was a failure, that someone in a wheelchair was nothing anymore, that I was wasting valuable Navy resources that could be used on soldiers who would go back into combat, I… I can’t take it anymore.” Kay paused, taking a deep breath.

Leah hugged her tightly, unable to hold back her tears. “God, Kay… I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

“I don’t want you to see me as a victim, Leah.” Kay rested her forehead on Leah’s shoulder. “I just want to be someone who deserves… something.”

“You deserve everything, Kay. And I’m here to remind you of that every day.”

Despite everything, Kay began to find small moments of peace in her life with Leah. They began to spend more time together, sharing stories and laughing despite the circumstances.

One night, as Leah read a book on the couch, Kay leaned into her, resting her head on her shoulder. Leah smiled and set the book aside, putting an arm around Kay.

“You know?” —Leah said after a while. —I never thought I'd find someone I wanted to share so much with.

Kay looked up, surprised by the confession. —And me?

—You're that person, Kay. My person, my forever.

For the first time in a long time, Kay felt like maybe, just maybe, she had a place in the world where she truly belonged.

[miikag0v]

Oh hiii I just saw this :D

We do see the same game. What makes it different is how we perceive everything that happened in the game. Yes, I see your point—Curly failed Anya and failed to see the the problem amids the bigger picture like how in the dead pixel scene but I see a potential dynamic of two doomed characters if things didnt go downhill. They were literally joking around and comfortable to talk to each other like during the psych evals, you can see it as romantic or platonic as much as you like.

"Curly let Jimmy crash the ship to cover up the rape"

What. Ok now are WE watching the same game cuz what?

MF JIMMY CRASHED THE SHIP HIMSELF. Bold of you assumed Curly would agrees on letting himself being burnt alive and crippled for Jimmy especially after learning that he just did.

English isnt my native language so I apologize for my poor wordings. If you're interested to delve further the stories and not joining the "Curly is as bad as Jimmy" Gang, I suggest you check up @verdantwyrm or you can start from here https://www.tumblr.com/verdantwyrm/771441458295259136/idk-why-but-comments-like-this-is-curly-takes?source=share

不假思索

(bonus)

[kathlare]

serious intentions

Lando Norris x Alejandra Lagüera Menéndez

Summary: Alejandra and her family join the Pilão family for a vibrant summer lunch in São Paulo. Amid the festivities, Pietra shares some playful interactions with Lando Norris, who shows a surprising interest in Alejandra.

Wordcount: 0.9 k

Warnings: just fluff

January 2nd, 2025 - São Paulo

pietra.pilao has posted on her story

--------------

The sun was high over São Paulo, casting a golden glow on the lush garden where the Pilão family hosted their annual summer lunch. The expansive patio was adorned with colorful flowers and tables set with vibrant linens and elegant dishes. The laughter of two families mingled in the warm air, the sound of plates clinking and glasses being raised filling the scene with life.

Alejandra sat between her mother, Gabriela, and Pietra, enjoying the lively conversation around her. The scent of churrasco wafted through the air, mingling with the fresh citrus of the caipirinhas being passed around. Milton Pilão, always the charming host, was at the head of the table, regaling everyone with a story about his latest business venture, while Tati nodded along, her charisma as a famous TV host making her the perfect counterpart to her husband.

Across the table, Max Fewtrell, Pietra’s British boyfriend, fit right into the dynamic. His easygoing demeanor and quick wit made everyone laugh, even Ale’s father, Antonio, who was notoriously hard to impress. Diego, Ale’s younger brother, sat wide-eyed, hanging onto Max’s every word as he told stories about his time racing in Europe.

Ale leaned toward Pietra, nudging her playfully. “I still can’t believe you managed to get Max here during the holidays,” she teased. “You must have some serious powers of persuasion.”

Pietra smirked, brushing her perfectly styled hair over her shoulder. “Oh, please. Max will do anything for me,” she replied with mock arrogance, shooting him a playful glance.

“Anything except speak Portuguese fluently,” Max chimed in with a grin, eliciting laughter from the table.

As everyone continued chatting, Pietra’s phone buzzed on the table beside her plate. She glanced at the screen, and her expression immediately changed to one of amusement. “landonorris has replied to your story,” the notification read.

Ale noticed the slight lift of Pietra’s brow and whispered, “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Pietra replied quickly, but Ale could see the corners of her lips twitching as she suppressed a laugh. She opened the message and saw Lando’s reply to the selfie she had posted with Ale earlier that day.

landonorris: Who the fuck is that one?

Pietra couldn’t help but giggle at the message, her fingers hovering over the phone as she considered how to respond. She quickly typed back.

pietra.pilao: That’s Ale. She’s one of my best friends.

Pietra sent the message and leaned back in her chair, stifling a laugh as she looked at the screen. Ale, ever the curious one, raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” Pietra tried to hide her amusement, but it was clear she was struggling to maintain her composure. “Just some random thing Lando said,” she added, not wanting to explain further.

Ale didn’t press her. She had heard of Lando Norris before—who hadn't? The British Formula 1 driver who had a reputation for being cheeky and fast on the track. Max and Pietra often talked about him, but Ale had never really cared much to dig deeper into his world. She had enough on her plate with school and her own projects.

Pietra quickly typed back to Lando, but before Ale could ask her about it, the waiter brought out another round of caipirinhas, distracting the table for a moment. The chatter shifted to talk of vacations and future plans as the food continued to flow.

Meanwhile, Pietra’s phone buzzed again, signaling a new message. She glanced at the screen, and this time, her smile couldn’t be contained. She subtly swiped the message open, careful not to let the others see.

landonorris: Seriously, though, she’s pretty. You should introduce me to her.

Pietra rolled her eyes with a grin, knowing exactly where this was headed. She typed quickly, feeling a mischievous streak coming on.

pietra.pilao: Oh, you’re seriously asking to meet her now?

She pressed send, leaning back in her chair as she kept an eye on Max, who was deep in conversation with Ale's father. She knew Max and Lando were close friends, but this sudden surge of interest from Lando was unexpected. Sure, he was known for his flirty nature, but Pietra had never seen him so eager to meet someone. She couldn’t help but find it amusing.

landonorris: Yes, please. I’ll do anything to get an introduction. She’s gorgeous.

Pietra chuckled to herself, imagining Lando's usual playful tone as she read the message. She quickly responded, not able to resist teasing him.

pietra.pilao: You’re going to have to work for it. I don’t just introduce anyone to Ale. She’s not the type to do hook-ups. You’d have to prove you’re serious.

As she typed, her fingers hesitated slightly, knowing that Lando’s “seriousness” had always been a bit of a running joke. He was never one to commit to anyone long-term, preferring casual flings. Pietra wondered, though, if he really was interested in Ale, or if this was just another one of his infamous flirtations.

landonorris: I’m serious. I’ll prove it to you. Just let me meet her.

Pietra raised an eyebrow at the message. She didn’t doubt that Lando would be persistent, but she had her doubts about how far his “seriousness” would actually go. Still, she couldn’t help but smile at the idea of playing matchmaker for her two friends.

Pietra quickly typed back, laughing to herself.

pietra.pilao: You’ll have to impress her first, Lando. It’s not that easy. She’s not interested in anyone who isn’t all in.

She glanced up at Ale, who was deep in conversation with her mother. There was no way Ale would ever fall for a guy like Lando Norris, right? She wasn’t the type for fleeting crushes or games. Pietra sighed, wondering if Lando would take her seriously or just play around as he usually did.

Before Pietra could send the message, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Max leaned over, his voice low but curious. “What’s so funny? You’re acting all secretive over there.”

Pietra quickly locked her phone and gave Max an innocent smile. “Oh, just Lando being Lando. He’s asking to meet Ale.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Lando? Really? You think he’s serious?”

Pietra shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s finally ready to settle down—or maybe it’s just another one of his flirtations.”

Max looked skeptical, but his eyes softened as he caught a glimpse of Ale laughing across the table. “Well, if he’s serious, I guess I’ll have to have a word with him.” He leaned back, a hint of a smirk on his face. “But if he’s not serious... I’ll let him know to back off.”

Pietra chuckled, shaking her head. “We’ll see. But don’t say anything to Ale. She doesn’t know about any of this.”

Max gave her a knowing smile. “No worries. I won’t say a word.” He gave her a wink, then turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.

Pietra quickly returned to her phone, watching as Lando sent yet another message.

landonorris: Alright, alright. I’ll prove I’m serious. Just wait.

Pietra chuckled and locked her phone. She glanced over at Max, who was still chatting with Ale's father, and then looked back at Ale. There was no way Ale would fall for Lando’s usual antics. Ale was strong, independent, and had no time for someone who wasn’t fully committed. She didn’t want a fling. If Lando was going to get her attention, he would have to show he was more than just another pretty face.

[rabotimagines]

"Bottoming when they usually Top." GN BOT reader x Starscream, Megatron, Ironhide, Optimus

Summary: Topping them for the first time when they usually top you.

Warnings: None.

Genere/Theme: Smut 🔞 MDNI

G1 characters: Starscream, Megatron, Ironhide, Optimus

Notes: Bot reader uses their spike!

Pronouns: You, your, yours.

Starscream is a bit of a chaotic switch. He'll usually bend to fit whatever dynamic a partner has with him and also what he's feeling at the time. So when you first started interfacing, he was completely fine playing the role of a fixed top. It also does something to his ego that you enjoy his spike so much in the first place. So when you ask if you can top Starscream makes a stink about it, just to make you feel slightly guilty. Slightly anyway. In the bitchy "You're making me go off my regular schedule" sort of way he does when you ask him for anything. Starscream then turns around and declares "How lucky you are to have such an understanding and generous partner!" His servos digging into the seams of your waist. Starscream barely suppresses a shiver when you hum and start tracing his wings with already lewd intentions.

There is a fifty-fifty chance Starscream is going to ride you into the berth or just let you dom when you top. If Starscream gives you control, then he's a hundred percent expecting to be lavished with attention and praise. Which is how you wind up in between his thighs, pounding his valve as hard as you can. Starscreams digits are biting the paint off your back. You were a bit overcharged on Starscreams valve, your praising coming out like babbles. Starscream could feel his own overload creeping up his spinal strut. Your spike hits his ceiling node, and he cries out while you only rock into him harder.

You're telling Starscream how good he feels, and the comment makes Starscreams overload hit him sooner than he thought it would. His thighs clench around your middle, forcing you to fold harder against him when he tightens further around your spike. Starscream bucks when you start overloading inside him. Every pump of your spike had him clenching back down on you. Frag- You needed to work on how to praise correctly, but overall, you weren't terrible with your spike. Starscream vented heavily, taking in your post overloaded expression. The sight only made him want to push you down and take your valve next.

Starscream... supposed he will have to show you how you're properly supposed to praise a bot for taking your spike.

-

Megatron enjoys being in control, and he enjoys dominating other mechs both in the field and in the berth. Megatron fully expected to top without any pre communication when you entered a relationship with him. (Yes, he's a clown like that.) You could be a hulking triple charger, and Megatron would still be wordlessly expecting your obedience. He wants you to give yourself to him. Give him your everything. So he's always been content with you being a bottom the entire time you'd began interfacing with one another. So when you ask to top, Megatron is mildly surprised by the fact you'd waited this long to act on a sexual interest with him. But since Megatron actually holds affections towards you, he has almost no problem indulging you.

Almost anyway. He'll let you use his valve, but he's still going to be dominating you into the berth. He might just use the side of his arm and cannon to pin you further against the berth while he rides you both to overload. Megatron grinds down further against your pelvis, reveling in the noise he draws out of you. He chuckles at your sorry state even with his valve stuffed with your spike. Megatron only stops when you overload inside him and fill him up. He groans at the sensation and jerks his spike off to reach his own overload- Megatron cursed under his vents at the feeling of clenching down on you while overloading himself. His spikes transfluid ends up shooting you in the faceplate, dusting your paint with translucent pink.

The blessed out expression on your face and his own valve dripping with your own transfluid was definitely a positive gain. Megatron also enjoyed taking you apart in yet another way only for his optics and no one else's. He should've thought of this beforehand. Expect to be allowed to use his valve or be dominated by it after this. If you raise his affection high enough in your relationship, he'll eventually let you use his valve and dominate at the same time.

...

Eventually.

-

Ironhide was a dom leaning verse. He did enjoy control, and he enjoyed making a bot whine with how well he'd use their valve. But he wasn't so up tight he didn't know how good a valve overload felt like himself. He didn't necessarily mind only being a top for you. He was soft on you and couldn't get enough of you, valve included. But when you ask if he's okay with you spiking him, instead, he does feel a bit giddy.

Ironhides the type to bend over all pretty against the nearest wall as soon as you ask. Array already snapped back valve on full display with his hips jutting out like they were. You gape at the sight, and Ironhide just looks over his shoulder back at you. "Well? what are ya waiting for? Need a party invitation to spike a mech, right?" You calmered to your pedes and tried to work him open with your digits, which only made Ironhide scoff. "I'm not glass. Just put it in already."

You do, and you frag him against the wall then and there. Ironhide can hear your quick vents on his audials. Spike striking his ceiling node every time you bottomed out. You end up overloading before him but seem to realize Ironhide wasn't as close. You reached down and started stimulating his anterior node- Ironhide cursed and impatiently started stroking his own spike off. Ironhide groaned, focusing on the feeling of your spike still in his valve and the transfluid spilling down his inner thighs. You pulled back and hit his ceiling node once more, and ironhide is overloading on your spike with a groan.

You were a bit rough around the edges and needed some work, but-

You were panting lightly. Your digits were rolling tracing circles on Ironhides hips, like he'd do for yourself after he'd spiked you.

Ironhide would train you how to properly spike a mech just you wait.

-

Optimus just didn't have the spark to tell you no when you looked at him and told him to spike you. He loved you. Optimus wasn't too picky about positions or roles he just wanted your affection and to make you feel good. If you wanted to take his spike, then he'd help you take his spike right. Likewise, if you wanted to top him, then Optimus is all for it. He wants to make you feel good. And if you wanted to feel good using his valve? He'd let you do just that then. But well- you hadn't asked to just spike him...

How you managed to convince Optimus to let you spike him in his office of all places he still didn't know- (Yes, he did. it's because he wanted to make you happy.) But now Optimus is sitting on the ledge of his desk with you thrusting in his rather wet valve. His servos are gripping the edge of his desk hard enough that the metal starts to give- fighting to keep his palms off your frame because he'd dent your frame so easily right now. Every time you bottomed out, your pelvis ground down on his anterior node. Your spike hitting every pleasure node it could with every snap of your hips. Your optics are bright, and you look so- attractive between his thighs.

A strangled use of your designation tumbles out of him when you wrap a servo around his weeping spike and start stroking. Optimus has to fight to stay quiet while he's overloading all over your spike. His own transfluid shooting on his front with your continued strokes. You groaned and stilled, finally panting through your own overload. Optimus can feel your transfluid spilling out of his valve and onto the floor. Optimus finally allows his vice grip on his own desk to loosen and start touching you once more. He's petting you through your own post overload haze while you're nuzzling and sighing all content at his affections.

Optimus definitely wouldn't have any problems with you toping again.

... Just maybe not on his office desk next time. Optimus admitted, staring at the dents on his own desk.

[bunnyinvanilla]

some sort of miscommunication between price and reader where he’s stressed out and constantly checking his phone for updates for a case that’s been getting to him for months. Reader’s confused and overthinking why he’s constantly checking his phone and acting anxious even around her. Is there another girl? Are you assuming an exclusive relationship when he isn’t? He is just your sugar daddy, he’s using you and you’re using him, why are you questioning the dynamic now? This leads to her realising she wants to be committed and exclusive with price.

this THISSS is my favorite request so far. stop. i just want daddy price to be all mine mine mine and think about me me me only

you know price is a busy man, between being the captain of a military secret service unit and owning a bar, you are aware of the many responsibilities he carries. But lately, he’s been just too far off. Constantly checking his phone, always on different calls with mysterious people he cannot tell you about, you can’t help but worry.

undoubtedly, you trust him blindly and completely — but you’re also just a sensitive, vulnerable little girl. Since he’s always been able to dedicate you his full time and attention, why has he been so nervous and stressed around you lately? has he been hiding something from you?

you notice he’s not fully listening to you when you talk, hands always holding that phone instead of your waist or hand, always running a large hand through this dark, salt and pepper hair, a weary and bothered look on his face, something serious has to be on his mind.

you trust him, so why are you suddenly so concerned and afraid? what if he started talking to another girl? maybe he’s seeking a different girl’s attention? maybe that’s why he’s always checking his phone for something that you can’t know about. that thought alone makes your tummy heavy with a tight knot, and you want to cling to his leg and beg him to just be your daddy and yours alone.

has he gotten tired of you? has he found another girl to be his sugar baby? you’ve always considered your relationship to be exclusive, only between you and him, but maybe you’ve given it too much more importance and consideration than him? It started off as a plain convenience, him paying for your college, pampering and providing for everything you needed and wanted, and you giving him affection, the company of a young, pretty girl, a warm heart and a warm body to bury himself in.

but you have wanted more from the start — gosh, you know you’re practically in love with him, you want to be his only girl, you want him to be fully satisfied, focused and interested in you alone, his forever little princess :( you want him to be in love with you, that’s it.

you reading alone on his bed and him spending time in his dark office, scrambling with paperwork, you could understand, but that damn phone? gosh, he keeps waiting for someone to text him, keeping it with him all day long, and you start overthinking so much that you just want to cry your fragile little heart out, like a poor soft bunny that feels neglected by her owner.

and when you saw his phone lit up with a notification from a certain Kate, you felt your heart sink — he muttered a low, heavy “fuckin’ finally” and stood up, leaving the room to take another call, leaving you with a wobbly chin.

poor bunny you just don’t know that he’s been stressing for a complicated mission that he’s been following, and that has been getting to him for months now :(

when he came back, he found you on his spot, sitting ever so cutely with your legs underneath your bum, twirling your hair around your fingers, nervously — you looked up at him with doe, puppy eyes and took a little breath before saying “sir, you don’t..you’re not hiding something from me, are you?”

he immediately looked at you in the most disoriented way, the wrinkles behind his eyes stretching, and before you could open his mouth, you sat upright, unable to stop your anxious words to spill out. “I just- im sorry, you’re always on your phone and i get scared, please tell me you don’t have another girl, im in love with you, sir, and-“

john, having years and years of experience behind his back, having learnt how to stay calm and collected in every situation, slowly walked up to you, giving you a relaxed, slightly entertained expression.

with a slow, deliberate movement , he picked you up effortlessly, like you weighted nothing, and placed you on top of the nearest surface — you squeaked, but your eyes were still soft and preoccupied, cheeks red and warm.

“doll,” he called your name with a firm, reassuring tone, as if to placate your worrying thoughts — he took your chin between his fingers, lifting it upwards with his thumb to meet your sugary, saccharine eyes. “listen to me”

he held your chin up with his large hand, your own finding the edge of the table and gripping it. “I’ve been spending more time with my phone because im following a difficult case, and have been waiting for any update for over a month now, princess”

the roots that had clenched your heart slowly started to dissolve into tiny, light sprouts. oh.

“but..you’re always nervous and distant, I thought-“

“what did we say about letting your thoughts wander too much, love?” he squeezed your chin, giving you a lecturing look that made you tremble for a different reason, his tone was reassuring but surfaced into a lecturing one. “mmh? answer me, angel”

“that I have to..” you felt like a little lamb under his intense gaze, like a a little girl being scolded by her father when she almost got hurt and made him worry :( “..come talk to you when it happens, sir”

“exactly, good girl, sweetheart, you come talk to daddy, and don’t overthink your pretty little head”

“didn’t wanna make you upset..” you mumbled softly, his thumb stroking your bottom lip.

“you never make daddy upset, baby. I can’t tell you about my missions doll, they’re state secrets...” his eyes followed the motion of his ginger against your plush lips. “but the person I’ve been talking on the phone with is Kate, our station chief” his lips twitched into a little amused grin, you’re just so young, so naive and sweet, getting all possessive of him :(

“so you don’t…” you trailed off, blinking up at him. “I don’t have another girl, pup. Never dream of it while I have the sweetest, prettiest treat here” he chuckled, a deep, warm and rich sound.

“next time you worry, come to daddy and talk to me. Im sorry I’ve been too busy and occupied with work lately, sweetheart, but you’re the only girl in my heart and in my bed. You’re my one ‘n only sugar baby.” he pulled your chin and planted a heavy kiss on your lips.

“and about that little slip out of yours…” he grinned against your lips, making your face grow red, flame up instantly. “say that again f’me? daddy’ old, didn’t hear it well”

“that i…i’m in love with you..?”

oh of course price knew you loved him. He could tell since the first time you had laid your sweet, honeyed eyes on him that you were lovestruck. Part of him was surprised a young, innocent thing like you could spare interest for a worn, old war dog like him.

well, the other part was smug about it, he was a confident, cocky man, and he thrived on the effect he had on you — his own little princess.

“yeah, that, princess, you’ve got me wrapped around your lil finger, havent you? make this old bastard all hooked,” he’s completely drawn to you, even if he’s reluctant to admit it outright.

“you’re gonna make me marry you if im not careful enough, steal my heart, my wallet, and now my last name”

[moonmaiden1996]

Zoro as a romantic partner- My thoughts

Alright, hear me out.

Zoro, the stoic, sword-wielding badass of One Piece, doesn’t show the slightest interest in romance—at least not in any of the arcs I’ve read or watched. He’s far too focused on his goals, his loyalty to Luffy, and his never-ending quest to become the greatest swordsman in the world. But... what if?

I’ve been thinking about what kind of partner Zoro might have, and honestly, the idea that keeps popping into my head is less “typical romance” and more... Tatsu from The Way of the Househusband. If you’re unfamiliar, Tatsu is an infamous and feared yakuza boss, nicknamed "The Immortal Dragon," who (after literally defeating all his enemies) leaves the crime world to become a devoted househusband to the woman who once cared for his wounds.

Now, while Zoro definitely wouldn’t go full Sanji mode (because, let’s be real, Zoro cooking is a kitchen fire waiting to happen), there’s something about that protector-turned-househusband energy that feels surprisingly fitting.

Let’s pause for a second on the Sanji comparison. Sanji is all about charm, flirtation, and over-the-top devotion to every woman he meets. He’s a master chef who pours his heart into crafting meals and showering people with compliments. Zoro, on the other hand, would never lower himself to something he might see as “cooking duty.” It’s just not his style.

But here’s the twist: if someone did something genuinely kind for Zoro—like how Miku cared for Tatsu in The Way of the Househusband when he gets injured—I feel like Zoro would be smitten (or at least, as smitten as Zoro can get). He’d show his appreciation in his own gruff way, and his feelings would manifest through actions rather than words.

Zoro’s approach would be much more subtle, quiet, and honestly, a little rough around the edges—more of a “guard dog” than a “gentleman chef.” He’s the type of guy who lets you sleep on him, beats up Sanji to make sure your favorite meal gets cooked, and stares down anyone foolish enough to think they have a shot at you. It’s that unspoken but undeniable protection that makes the idea of Zoro as a partner so intriguing.

Zoro strikes me as the kind of person who wouldn’t even notice someone as a potential romantic partner unless they demonstrated qualities he deeply values—like loyalty, strength, or determination. He’s stubborn as hell, and most attempts at flirtation would probably fly right over his head. But the moment someone proved their worth to him in a way that resonates, those blinders would come off so fast, and suddenly... boom. Enter Zoro, househusband—but with a twist.

I see him as a fiercely protective presence—the ultimate guard dog for his partner. He’d be the type to wordlessly handle problems before they even reached his significant other, standing as an unshakable shield against the world. Whether it’s physical threats or emotional support, Zoro would embody dependability and unwavering commitment. And let’s not forget—if his partner is equally supportive of him, this man would be unstoppable.

In this hypothetical scenario, Zoro doesn’t lose his edge; instead, he channels his loyalty and protective instincts into a new kind of role. And honestly? That blend of strength, dedication, and quiet care makes for a dynamic that’s as compelling as it is unexpected.

What do you think? Could Zoro be the ultimate househusband in his own unique way? Or is he just too much of a lone wolf for any of this to work?

[blueteller]

[Slams the table back like we're doing an Ace Attorney Trial] I'll do you one better! I think KRS should transmigrate as the unnamed 3rd Prince.

Think about it. We know very little about him, next to nothing really (which would give the fanfiction writer a lot of creative freedom). But the few key elements we DO know about him? They would make this transmigration match KRS a lot better than Robbit.

First of all, Robbit gets married within the 2 years since Cale transmigrates. While it's possible he only met his fiancee/wife AFTER the transmigration event happened, it would be better if KRS had no potential romantic partner to worry about. I mean, imagine if your boyfriend's/fiancee's soul suddenly got swapped and it looked like he suddenly stopped loving you. That would suck for that poor woman.

Secondly, if we take into account that Alberu is 23 at the start of the story, and he is the oldest of the three brothers... and also Zed did not have his other kids before Alberu's mom died... That means there is NO WAY that the 3rd Prince is anything older than 18. He's definitely a teenager, regarless if Robbit is one or not. In other words, with a younger body as a start, KRS would have to worry a lot less about "character development" for his new "prince" personna to fit his own interests.

Furthermore! In canon, it was often said that the 3rd Prince was the son of the queen and Zed's "favored son". That makes it for a LOT of interesting dynamics, especially with how KRS would use this position to his advantage - to flip the whole thing around, that is! Just imagine him playing the "nice kid prince" to his "allies" with a sweet smile (one of the allied families includes the STANS by the way, even more potential for drama!), who are all greedy aristocrats supporting a literal TEENAGE BRAT against his brilliant oldest brother of an heir - likely to become their own pupper ruler later on - while KRS inwardly plots to smack them all in the back and make them Alberu's subordinates.... without them having a clue how that happened in the aftermath. So much fun political drama just waiting to be explored!

Not to mention the bond between the brothers! Robbit as well! The age gap between 3rd Prince and Alberu would also make for a quite interesting dynamic too. I mean, there is no way Alberu actually knew his spoiled youngest brother all that well. He stayed away from him as far as possible, I'm sure. So with 3rd Prince!KRS suddenly barging into his life proclaiming that he would make him the king because he wants to be a slacker?? Alberu's befuddlement would be utterly hilarious. Much funnier than if it was Robbit, I think. I don't think Robbit was ever considered that much of a rival to Alberu in comparison to the 3rd Prince.

All of those things make the 3rd Prince a MUCH better person to have KRS transmigrate as. That's what I think, at least. What about you?

Me slamming the table: Kim Rok Soo got transmigrated into [Robbit Crossman]’s body instead of [Cale Henituse]’s body! Think about all the drama we can get from him trying to get on Alberu's good side! Think about how he will get involved with the Hunter plot much sooner due to being closer to King Zed!

Me flipping the table: Actually, I will do one better! Think about if he get transmigrated into [Robbit Crossman]’s much sooner, hence actually manages to form a good relationship with [Alberu Crossman] from the start! Think about him having [Choi Han] who is physically older than him follow him around like a lost puppy! Think about him raising the [Black Dragon] from the start! Think about him interacting with a younger [Cale Henituse]!

[girlfromenglishclass]

I know it's been months and we're all done complaining about House of the Dragon, but it was just such a wasted opportunity to not follow the book canon of the Greens being beloved of the people.

Even if they still wanted to frame the show with Rhaenyra as our star and character to root for, framing Aegon as a full blown antagonist just doesn't have the same dynamic storytelling that GRRM creates. Aegon being an inept king is absolutely not the same thing as him being disliked. Inept political leaders become populists and demagogues all the time. Framing Aegon as someone without real leadership or intelligence BUT with magnanimity and charisma makes him a much more real threat. Rhaenyra would be the better monarch, but as a woman and as less charming, she fails to get the support of the people. It's topical.

If they followed through on the scene of Aegon holding court, clearly reveling in the fact that the people love him, it creates a more interesting character motivation. Aegon didn't even want to be King, so the war to keep him on the throne feels wildly futile, but Aegon fighting to keep the love he's always been desperate for, that's compelling.

Plus, Helaena as a beloved queen would have furthered the themes around gender that season one created. She's meek and pleasant and pretty, so people love her. Rhaenyra as fiery and lusty and powerful, so people hate her. It's topical, it's dynamic, and it actually says something about the perception of gender as a performance in which you are punished for not participating.

And this isn't me saying "wow the show needed more misogyny; they needed to be nicer to the pretty princess" I'm saying it's a show about misogyny, so like, do something with that.

[lavenderprose]

So what are your Rook’s interactions with Johanna like post-game? I suppose she’s a permanent fixture in Emmrich’s study now… do they get along?

Oh I'm all for the idea that Johanna becomes their weird Shelf Auntie. Emmrich tries to give her enrichment by taking her outside, facing her out the window, etc, but she gabs SO MUCH unless he puts her on a desk with like six books propped in front of her, each with an enchantment to flip the page every few minutes. This is the best way to keep her quiet.

As for Rook, I think she avoids Johanna as much as possible initially, but does eventually get used to her presence. She knows exactly why Emmrich is keeping her around and while she isn't sure it's the best or most logical solution, she can understand his sentimentality. So she kind of starts to make herself interact with Johanna in the interest of making her own life easier and calmer. She kind of even starts to like Johanna, in a weird way. Kind of like a sister(-in-law) who annoys the ever loving fuck out of Rook, but goes Yap Bark Screech on her behalf when anyone BUT Johanna is annoying her.

In my canon, Rook and Emmrich eventually have a child--Emory, a son, and he exists in most eventualities across the multiple universes of the fics/narratives I currently have percolating. His birthdate is basically the only thing that changes. He presents with magical abilities very early in life--both of his parents are mages, Emmrich an extremely powerful one though it's easy to forget. Emmrich is...Emmrich, and doesn't flaunt his abilities, unlike other powerful mages in the Mourn Watch and elsewhere. Once Emory presents as a mage, Johanna of course takes it upon herself to be as bonkers about it as possible. LET ME TEACH THE CHILD. No Hezenkoss. HE WILL FLOURISH UNDER MY TUTELAGE--

(Emmrich, playing Devil's Advocate: She's not..wrong. Johanna IS a very accomplished necromancer.

Rook: Maker, not you too.

Johanna: [Sustained background yapping])

Between Manfred and Emory, there's a lot of time spent buffing scorch marks out of hardwood. Johanna cackles the whole time. That's basically the dynamic we're looking at.

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #7002:

There is next-to nothing more awkward than learning most of the shippers you interact with, only care for certain ship cliches if they're with characters of the same gender. While you rarely see the genders of the characters as a factor for how much you like it or not.

I'm (not) sorry, but stuff like "Enemies-To-Lovers" or "Main Hero X Main Villain" works regardless of the genders of the characters themselves in my eyes. It feels so excluding watching fans praise certain tropes when applied to same-sex pairings, only to turn around and call things that don't apply ("this romanticizes abuse!") just because an author dared to write it with oh-so-evil, straight characters.

Also, if you hate a pairing, just say it. Don't make up stuff.

Not even just full-on dynamics. Even the little things earn ire from a fanbase, only for all that hate to subside when it's written with a same-sex ship.

For example, no, the author doesn't hate the main "strong" female character just because they dared to give her a male love interest. And no, it's not infantilizing just because said love interest is equally as compentent. Mutual competence doesn't just work with mlm or wlw ships, and it's insulting to know you only care for "straight" pairings if the man is dumb and the woman is smart.

[flutterclouds]

This was such an awesome chapter, Tesh! I really loved the tense and enigmatic atmosphere of Team Scarlet and Samir’s journey into the mines. The numerous mysterious lantern imprints in the ground contributed so much to the eerieness of the investigation. The Asra arc has been such a treat to read so far. The earthquake mystery is really intriguing and I love seeing what Nia and Toby come up with during their investigations. The rain clue made me wonder what Pokemon in the area besides Eddy and Calder could know Rain Dance. To my surprise when looking on Bulbapedia, a lot of non-water types can learn Rain Dance via TM. As such, that clue would not do much good at the moment.

Another part of this chapter I really loved was Nia and Toby’s rapport. It’s really sweet that Toby has become so much more open with Nia, and that she feels much more at ease around him. The little worldbuilding about Nia being from the Midwest was a fun detail.

Samir was such a fun addition to the team for the stakeout! They have such a stoic personality, and it’s plain to see how seriously they take their job as a Seeker. I thought it was really interesting getting to learn that their former partner left them because they thought Samir’s ground writing was too slow for missions. It’s clear that Samir has a lot of pent up pain from being pretty much abandoned by someone they thought they could trust.

I have to reiterate how the stakeout was such a great scene! Team Scarlet and Samir have a really good dynamic and it was on fully display here. The atmosphere was excellent as well. The mysterious vanishing figure creeping through the desert on a lonely moonlit night really added to the tension of the stakeout. The hole under the mine cart was also such a great twist! I love secret passages in stories, so this is right up my alley. The artificial cavern scene had such a tense atmosphere to it. In addition to the fact there was a whole wall of mirrorstone for Giratina to observe them from, there’s evidence of something large burrowing underneath the town. And the twist that it was a Steelix is just so cool. Eddy making a fortune off of the building repairs is also such a great character motive for him. Definitely reminds me a bit of the scheme that Gurdurr and Scraggy had in Gates to Infinity. That final scene where the ground of the cavern opens up into darkness is just simply incredibly written. As always, I’ll be looking forward to reading the next chapter!

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 44]

<< First | < Previous | Next >

-

Tobias, Nia, and Samir explore the mine and put a plan into motion. But they might find more than they bargained for beneath the town...

-

Tobias is tense as he leads the way into the darkness of the tunnel, trying to keep his steps light just in case anyone is lurking inside. His tail flame throws bouncing shadows around the rocky walls, showing the remnants of rotting wooden support beams and broken lamp lights.

It’s cool in here, and eerily silent.

Nia and Samir follow him, sticking close to the halo of light he provides. They’re quiet as they carefully step over rocks and debris, the occasional broken tool or remnants of a crate scattered about.

They’ve only been walking for a minute or two, so Tobias is surprised when they reach the back of the tunnel, where a cave-in has blocked off the rest of the mine with a slope of dirt and rock. A lopsided old mine cart missing a wheel sits off to the side of it.

“That’s it?” He asks, tense shoulders dropping.

Nia pads past him, her brow furrowed. “That…can’t be it. I could’ve sworn the mines would have something to do with all this.”

Tobias had thought the same—it seemed like too big of a coincidence to have a network of underground mines surrounding a town suffering from earthquakes.

Samir sighs and shakes their head, sitting heavily on the ground and giving them another tired look. Tobias can just imagine the quiet I told you so.

Tobias crosses his arms, irritated. “Well now what? We just go back to town and hope we stumble on a lead? Lotta good that did us yesterday.”

“I mean…the town probably needs our help with repairs anyways,” Nia points out. She’s been padding around the perimeter of the cave, paw trailing along the wall as if she’ll find a secret switch or something. She drifts over to the rickety remains of the mine cart with her usual brand of curiosity.

Samir gives a nod of approval, and Tobias rolls his eyes. He doesn’t disagree, necessarily, but—

“Oh,” Nia says, only her tail visible from behind the mine cart. There’s a quiet clink, and then she shuffles out backwards, into the light of Tobias’ flame. “Look at this!”

In her paw dangles an oil lamp, unlit but half-filled with a clear liquid.

Samir stands, a bit too abrupt to be casual. Their brow is furrowed.

“Something weird about this?” Tobias asks, suspicious. He glances at it again, making sure it doesn’t look like some kind of trap.

Samir doesn’t look alarmed necessarily, but they do nose the lamp, staring hard at the way the oil within the container moves with the motion. Slowly, they nod, before writing in the dirt.

FRESH

“Right,” Nia says, frowning as she tilts the lamp and watches the oil move around inside. “If this was left behind from the old mining days, it surely would’ve dried up by now. Right?”

“Could Calder or one of the townsfolk have brought it here?” Tobias asks. “Recently, I mean. Maybe when he and Pan were investigating before the cave-in?”

Samir’s eyes flick to the mine cart. They jerk their chin at Tobias, urging him closer to it. Tobias doesn’t like being bossed around by the skiddo, but he moves to the cart regardless, following the grass type’s direction and shuffling behind it to bring his tail flame to the lamp’s previous hiding spot.

In the thin layer of dirt, there are faint circular impressions left behind. Many of them, actually—upwards of ten, easily. Some of them overlap, some of them are a few inches apart from each other. Tobias can tell just looking at them that they would match the bottom of the lantern they’d just found.

The only reason Tobias can think of for such a thing is if someone had been placing the lantern here, over and over again. A quick examination by Calder wouldn’t cause that.

“Did you find something?” Nia asks, trying to peer behind the cart to see.

“What do you think of these?” Tobias shuffles back to the cave wall so his tail will still illuminate the little wedge of space, careful not to step on the rings in the dirt.

“Are those…imprints?” Nia asks, glancing over her shoulder. “From the lantern?”

“Think so.”

“There’s so many…”

Tobias glances up at Samir, whose brow is furrowed. “Finally think there might be something weird going on?”

Samir’s mouth flattens, but they continue to stare at the rings. Slowly, they nod.

“So what do we do now?” Nia asks, crouching to get a closer look. “Do we tell Calder?”

“Then we’ll get in trouble for being here at all,” Tobias scoffs. “No, this isn’t solid evidence. We need to make sure we can convince him that something strange is actually happening before admitting to coming to the mines.”

Samir looks unhappy about that, but also doesn't protest. Since they know Calder better, Tobias guesses he’s spot-on.

“Okay, but how do we find solid evidence? Catch someone in the act of doing something, um…suspicious?” Nia asks, paw on her chin. “Since we don’t have cameras, I guess we would just have to stake out the cave until someone shows up?”

Her tone is half-joking, but Tobias considers it. “...Not a terrible idea, actually.”

Samir gives him a doubtful look, shuffling back into the tunnel proper. Nia and Tobias follow after putting the lantern back in place.

Samir is scratching something into the dirt. Tobias moves his tail closer to read it.

HOW KNOW THEY’LL COME BACK?

Tobias’ mouth twists. “I guess we can’t know for sure. But if those marks are anything to gauge by, they’ve been here pretty often.”

CAN’T STAY ALL DAY

TOWN NEEDS HELP

“We could take shifts,” Tobias suggests, though he’s reluctant. He doesn’t want one of them to get caught alone with someone who could be dangerous.

“Well,” Nia says. “If they don’t want to be seen they’re probably coming here at night, right? We could help out the town today, try to catch a nap in the evening, and then come out here after night falls?”

Samir and Tobias exchange a glance. Tobias can’t think of anything wrong with that plan, aside from them being exhausted come morning. Samir still seems uneasy, but doesn’t protest.

“You think Takeo will let us leave?” Nia asks. “He already looked kinda suspicious after we talked about the mines last night.”

“He’s not our parent,” Tobias scoffs. Still, the spidops could definitely ruin their plan if he finds out they disobeyed him and Granite and went to the mines anyways. “We’ll just have to sneak out. There’s a window in our room.”

Nia clearly isn’t thrilled about that, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she plays nervously with the collar of fluff around her neck and looks to their companion.

“S-Samir, are you going to join us?”

The skiddo slumps with defeat, but nods.

Tobias nods. “Meet us on the edge of town where we left today, after dark settles in.”

Once they’ve got their plan settled, Tobias leads the two of them back outside (after thoroughly erasing Samir’s words in the dirt), blinking in the almost painfully bright light of late morning. Slowly, the shapes and colors of the canyon and distant town come into focus.

“Nightfall, then?” Tobias confirms with the skiddo.

Samir nods before springing down the rocks and back towards town. Nia and Tobias hurry to follow.

—————————————————————————————

Calder is visibly relieved when the three of them approach him about how to best help the town. The inteleon immediately directs them to where the most dire assistance is needed, splitting them up to cover more ground.

The day after the quake is no less busy, but slightly less frantic. Less damage control for injuries, but lots of deliveries needed for patients’ medication and other supplies. Less huge structural concerns, but plenty of signs needing rehung and planks of wood needing straightened and nailed down.

Tobias, sweat hissing from his skin within the hour, passes frequently by Nia, Samir, and Calder, as well as the town doctor. They’re all busy at work, trying to help the town back to its feet. A few of the townsfolk come forward to offer to help too throughout the day, but most ‘mon are busy enough trying to tend to their own problems.

Aurum, the weirdly cheery hakamo-o, requests Tobias’ help with sealing up some cracks in her bank’s stone steps. She chatters happily to him the whole time, which is annoying, but at least she doesn’t expect more from him than the occasional grunt of acknowledgement.

He’s helping Nia drag some heavy bags of grain to a house down the street when they pass by Pyre, the angry camerupt not even sparing them a glance as he stomps by with some lumber strapped to the small volcanoes on his back. Nia cows away from him, clearly still guilty for suspecting him after learning his daughter was injured in the quakes. Tobias ignores the grumpy old fire type completely.

Tobias helps Samir fix a cracked window next, which apparently belongs to the skiddo's boarder. The lilligant dotes on Samir as the two of them work, making sure the grass type and their “little friend” (Tobias glares at Samir at that) have refreshments. Still, he appreciates the hydration berry she bustles off to find him, and her sweetness is too much like Maggie for him to feel genuinely annoyed.

The three of them take a late lunch when Nia tracks him down whining about their skipped breakfast. They move to grab some food at Deidra’s saloon—not wanting to risk interrogation from Takeo or Granite if possible—until they’re reminded of the terrible damage done to the place when they can see the inner workings of the building from down the street. The building is closed for the day as the construction crew puts aside their most recent project to clear out the worst of the damages.

“Hurry it up with those!” Eddy shouts to one of his workers. The dewott is busy chopping through lumber with deft, precise slices of his razor shell.

“Just making sure they’re in good,” the primeape they saw yesterday says. Cody the aggron is helping him, using a heavy arm to hammer a huge wooden stake into the dirt.

“‘We don't want 'em coming loose if we get any more rain,” Cody adds.

Eddy barks a laugh. “We won’t get any more rain for now. Keep it moving.”

“Awful confident,” the primeape grumbles.

“He is a water type,” Cody points out, finished with his hammering. He leans back to survey his work with a satisfied swish of his heavy tail. “He would know best.”

“Less talkin’, more working,” Eddy grunts, but doesn’t berate them further.

Samir moves away from the construction crew, gesturing for Tobias and Nia to follow. The skiddo doesn't lead the group back to Granite and Takeo’s shop, but instead across town to the little house where Tobias helped replace that window earlier.

Sure enough, Samir’s lilligant boarder is on the porch, sending a petilil off with a wrapped lunch carefully balanced atop her tiny head.

Tobias and Nia step out of the way for her, and Samir gives the little grass type a smile and a nod as she passes by with a chipper, “Hi, Sammy!”

The lilligant, who Tobias doesn’t remember the name of, notices them with a pleased scrunch to her eyes. “Samir! Oh, and your charmander friend, too. Are you here for lunch?”

Samir almost seems bashful, glancing back at Tobias and Nia as if unsure of their presence.

“Oh, we’ve got enough for everyone, don’t worry! Come on in, kids. My name is Lara.”

The lilligant turns and shuffles inside, and the group follows.

“I-I’m Nia!” Nia says, once they’ve entered the homey little living space. She gives Lara a warm smile and a bow. “Thank you for having us!”

Lara laughs. “Well, ain’t you polite! Nice to meet you. My little one could learn some manners from you. Go on and get comfortable and I’ll find a little something for y'all to eat.”

Samir gives her a grateful nod that Tobias copies. Then, the skiddo sits comfortably one one of the large, flat cushions bordering the nearby low table. They're clearly familiar with the space.

“So this is where you’re staying?” Nia whispers, taking a seat beside them. Tobias follows her lead as she looks around with wide eyes. “It’s so cozy!”

It is. The space is packed close but not tight between the table and walls, the cushions beneath them worn but still soft and comfy. Two bookshelves sit against the walls, holding trinkets, a few books, a stack of board games, cards, and other things like sketchbooks and paint supplies in tiny jars. A stack of well-worn quilts and blankets sit next to the nearest bookshelf, ready to grab on chilly nights. Paintings and sketches line the walls in little frames, and a small table with a vase of half-dead flowers sits beneath the window.

“Here you go, kids. Still hot.”

Lara shuffles into the room with three plates along her arm, cushioned by a towel. She places a steaming plate in front of each of them, which Nia eagerly brings closer. Looks like some kind of thick vegetable stew. It smells pretty good, even if the veggies themselves seem a bit scrawny beneath the savory sauce.

“Apologies for the scrappy servings,” Lara says, wiping her leaves on the towel. “The town is a bit tight on food right now thanks to the quakes messing up our crops and keeping merchants away. I can barely keep our harvest running at half its usual output.”

“You’re a farmer?” Nia asks, clearly surprised. She pauses in blowing off her hot food.

Lara laughs. “Sure am! Fourth generation. I may not look it, but I’m actually quite good with the soil ‘round here. This rain is something else. Never seen anything like it.”

Tobias pauses as he picks up his fork. He’s heard offhanded comments saying much the same thing, and even thought himself that it seemed like a lot of rain for a desert town. Could it be connected to the quakes? If they suspect someone of causing those, could someone also intentionally be causing the rain? He can’t imagine why they would want to, but…

“Could a water type be causing the rain?” Tobias asks, taking a bite. Oh, it’s good. Much better tasting than it looks. He hurries to take a second mouthful, grateful for his heat-resistant mouth so he doesn’t have to wait for it to cool.

Lara smiles at his enthusiasm. “I s'pose a water type could bring in rain like this, but the only water types in town are Calder and Eddy, and they know we don’t need any more.”

Tobias refrains from saying anything in response. There’s not an ounce of suspicion in Lara’s voice, and Samir is glaring at Tobias as if to say that if he starts interrogating the lilligant, he has a headbutt in his future.

But he quietly takes that information in as they eat, thanking the lilligant for the meal.

Calder and Eddy are the only water types in town, huh? Tobias didn’t feel anything particularly off about either of them. Calder seems to genuinely care about the town and is clearly still grieving the loss of his partner. Likewise, Eddy just seems like a hard-working ‘mon doing his best to help the townsfolk after their homes and businesses have been ravaged by the quakes.

Maybe the rain is just a freak coincidence after all?

Tobias mulls it over as they eat, idly listening to Nia and Lara chat. The meal is on the smaller side, but it’s hearty and filling and delicious. By time they finish and say their goodbyes, heading back into town to continue their work, Tobias is full and feels rejuvenated. Nia hums happily as they seek out Calder, clearly feeling the same, and even Samir seems to have an extra skip to their step.

With their newfound energy, they get back to work.

—————————————————————————————

It’s early evening when Calder dismisses them all to go back to their lodgings and rest for the day. Tobias, sore and exhausted and with more than a few knicks on his fingers from a variety of tools, doesn’t argue. He and Nia part from Samir with a whispered confirmation of their meeting later that night, then drag themselves back to Granite and Takeo’s place.

The donphan and spidops are amiable but gruff as usual, and the four of them have a short, tired meal before Tobias mutters something about heading to bed early to get some rest for tomorrow. Nia yawns as she agrees.

Luckily, Granite and Takeo don’t seem suspicious, and let them trudge off to their lodgings with little fuss. When they get to their room and shut the door, Nia immediately flops into their pile of cushions.

“I’m never getting up again,” she whines. “I’m so sore.”

Tobias follows her, plopping down a little heavier than he usually would at her side. He can feel her brushing by him, but he’s too tired to move.

“Too bad,” he grumbles. “Because we’ve gotta get back up in a couple hours to do your stupid stakeout.”

Nia turns her head to pout at him in the slowly setting light. “Hey! You agreed to it.”

Tobias makes a noncommittal noise and lets his eyes slip shut.

“How do we make sure we wake up in time?” Nia mumbles, voice already slurred with sleep.

“I’ll just doze,” Tobias answers, hoping that his usual light sleeping habits will be enough to keep them on schedule.

Nia doesn’t argue, either because she trusts he’ll wake back up or because she doesn’t want to think about it anymore. A quiet little snore escapes her.

Oh. Or she’s already asleep.

Tobias huffs, amused, and lets himself drift into a light sleep, face pointed to be able to see the window if he opens his eyes.

It feels like a brief moment later that a quiet noise wakes Tobias. He startles from his nap, but stays still in the dimly lit darkness of their room. The window outside is a deep gray-black. What time is it?

Another sound makes Tobias realize what woke him: the quiet creak of the door closing. The doorknob settles back into place as it shuts. The gentle, rhythmic thump of footfalls—light and staggered, so it must be Takeo—fades away.

Was he checking on them? Suspicious that they’d slipped out?

Whatever the intent, Tobias is grateful for it waking him up. He waits another few seconds before pushing himself out of the comfy pile of cushions, groaning. He’s so sore. His entire body feels tired and heavy. But they said they’d investigate, and Samir is probably waiting for them.

Tobias peeks out the window, glad to see from how the shadows fall outside that the moon isn’t very high yet. They might be a little late, but not drastically so.

Tobias wakes Nia, basically having to roll her out of the nest completely to get her out of her deep sleep.

“Whuz happening?” She mumbles, bleary-eyed as she sits up.

“Stakeout time,” Tobias answers, grabbing her arms and yanking her to her feet.

She stumbles, but stays up, rubbing at her eyes. “This was a terrible idea.”

“Reminder that it was your idea.”

“My judgement stands.”

Tobias bites back a laugh and moves to the window, unlocking its latch to swing it open. Cool night air drifts against his face and into the room like a blot of ink in water. It wakes him up, at least, and from how Nia whines and shakes out her fur behind him, it does the same for her.

Tobias glances at the door one more time before crawling up and over the windowsill. He makes sure the dirt below is clear before gently dropping to the ground.

Nia slowly clambers out the window after him, clearly trying to be careful and not make extra noise.

“Oh! Wait!” Tobias hisses.

Nia freezes, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Go back in and grab our bag,” Tobias whispers.

Nia nods, slipping back into the darkness of the room and rummaging around for a few moments. Then, she reappears, looping its thick strap over her shoulder and across her body.

“Got it!”

“C’mon then.”

Nia carefully climbs over the sill again, turning to lower herself to the ground and stretching out a searching paw to the dirt.

“We’re gonna have another quake before you actually get out of there.”

“Nope, no more earthquakes,” Nia responds, finally reaching solid ground. “I had enough hiding under bars yesterday, thank you very much.”

Tobias reaches up to close the window, hoping that Takeo won’t think to check on them again yet tonight. Then he turns to lead them to the edge of town, glancing around for anyone who might spot them. Unfortunately, his tail flame makes it a little hard to sneak around in the dark, but they can at least try to avoid the townsfolk.

They dart from alleyway to alleyway, moving between buildings in quick bursts. Two ‘mon are talking loudly the next street over, so Tobias leans back against the wall to wait for a chance to slip across. “I’ve been meaning to ask—how’d you know what to do during that earthquake yesterday anyways?”

Nia is busy readjusting the satchel across her shoulder, but spares him an amused look. “We did a lot of earthquake drills in school. Way too many for living in the Midwest, honestly.”

Tobias frowns at her. “Earthquake drills?” Like a drilbur’s drill?

Nia smiles at his confusion. “Yeah! Like…doing a practice run of what we’d do in an emergency, y’know? We would sit under our desks and put a book over our head and neck.”

Tobias frowns. “Are natural disasters getting more common in the human realm too?”

Nia starts to shake her head, but then hesitates. “Actually, they are, but I think ours are due to climate change. Anyways! No, we just kind of had to cover stuff like that for school regulations. Still don’t know why I was so convinced quicksand would be such a concern in my adult life, though.”

Tobias snorts. The voices of the two ‘mon finally move along, fading into the distance, so he waves for Nia to follow before darting into the next alley.

It doesn’t take them long to reach the edge of town, and Samir steps out of the darkness between some barrels right away. Tied to their back is a bulky brown sack, although the weight of it seems light.

“Samir! Were you waiting long?”

The skiddo shakes their head, but jerks their chin in the direction of the mine, clearly wanting to get going. Tobias can’t argue with that, so he gestures for the grass type to take the lead.

The trip across the canyon is quiet, even Nia too busy watching her feet on the uneven terrain (and sending the occasional nervous glance over her shoulder) to strike up a conversation. The sand and rock underfoot is cooling now that the sun has set, and the path ahead is dark, Tobias’ tail offering the only light aside from the dim glow of the stars and moon. He’s grateful that Samir seems to remember the path to the cave, only having to stop occasionally to get their bearings.

Once they reach the edge of the canyon, Samir hops up the tumble of rocks first, stopping every few feet to look back and make sure Tobias and Nia are following. Tobias lights the way for Nia, grabbing her arm to haul her up one of the larger rocks when she slips.

“Where should we hide while we wait?” She asks, looking around.

“Somewhere I can hide my tail flame,” Tobias says, peeking behind some nearby rocks.

Two distinct taps get their attention, and Tobias looks up to see Samir’s head peering over some nearby boulders, at a slightly higher vantage point than they're currently at. The skiddo gestures for them to come up.

Tobias and Nia do so, scrabbling up the sediment and rock a little too loudly. When they reach Samir they find a little spot tucked away behind some large stones, but with a good view of the path leading up to the mines.

“This is perfect!” Nia whispers, sitting down. There’s a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Good find, Samir.”

Tobias grudgingly agrees. He sits next to Nia as they all settle down onto the cold, hard ground. Small rocks jab into his skin, and he shifts constantly for a minute or so, trying to get comfortable. He tucks his tail flame away at the base of the larger stones, stacking a few small rocks around it to form a little tent and hide away some of the light.

“Think that’s good enough?” He asks.

“I'll check!”

Nia slips out of their hiding place to make sure she can’t see his tail from the path. After a moment, she climbs back up to them.

“You can tell something is off about the lighting if you’re really looking for it, but I don’t think anyone will notice.”

Tobias isn’t satisfied by that, and carefully restacks the stones around his tail to try to contain the light a bit better. He's used to having his tail free to move around and he really doesn't like the feeling of forcing it still.

By time Tobias finally stops fiddling with the rocks, Nia is already not-so-subtly scoots closer to him, visibly trembling now that they aren’t moving about.

Tobias raises a brow, amused. “Cold?”

“F-Fire types don’t get teasing rights in sub-zero t-temperatures,” Nia chatters.

Samir makes a quiet rasping sound that Tobias realizes after a moment is a laugh. Then they reach back over their shoulder and tug open the tie on the brown sack they’d brought along, shoving their short muzzle right in.

“S-Samir?” Nia asks, giving Tobias a questioning look. He shrugs.

Samir pulls their head out of the sack, a well-worn blanket gently clamped between their teeth. It looks familiar, and Tobias realizes after a moment that it must be one of the blankets from Lara’s house. Samir drops it in Nia’s lap, then gives her a stern look and a point of their hoof.

Nia gasps, gathering the blanket in her paws and unfolding it. “Thank you! I’ll be careful with it, promise!”

Samir nods, apparently satisfied, and pulls out a second blanket for themself. They unfold it with their snout and then tug it over their body until they too are covered.

“Thank God we have someone to remember the important stuff,” Nia says, happily wrapping herself up in the blanket. “You’re the best, Samir.”

Tobias feels a stab of irritation at that, but it dies away just as quickly when Nia opens one arm of her quilt and gives him a pleading look.

“You have to come over here," Tobias points out. "I can’t move my tail."

He stays put as Nia hurries to his side and envelops him in the other half of the blanket cocoon. Some part of him is embarrassed about the close quarters, but the rest of him is just pleased that he still has something over Samir.

“You should pay me for how often you use me as a personal heater,” Tobias grumbles. “Cozy?”

Nia makes a happy hum and presses cool fur against his side. “Yup!”

Samir gives the two of them an amused look, clearly content under their own blanket.

And then they wait.

The night is cold but calm, the canyon walls a towering presence of black around them. After a little while, the town’s distant lights start to go dark, one by one. The only sound is the wind and the occasional shift from one of Tobias’ companions.

Tobias’ tail, tucked away and hidden among the rocks, only offers a small circle of light. Otherwise, their surroundings are doused in a level of blackness he’s unfamiliar with. But thanks to that, their adjusted eyes can see more than usual, too.

Overhead, the ragged circle of sky is absolutely filled with stars. Tobias can see how the night sky is layered with them, like thin sheets of crystal. Nia and Samir have followed his gaze, and the riolu in particular looks awestruck by the sight, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

Tobias loves the sight of the stars, but feels a painful knot of nostalgia tug at his chest. The night sky was like this in the mountains, too, open and endless.

When the skies were particularly clear and calm, Tobias’ parents would take him and Vivi flying. Tobias can recall with painful clarity the breathless feeling of being one with that night sky, surrounded on all sides by galaxies and stars that felt close enough to touch. Close enough to fall into. But he’d always felt safe with his parents, grinning from atop one of their backs and occasionally calling out to Vivi. His family's tails looked like shooting stars as they drifted through the dark sky.

Tobias moves his gaze back down to the black stretch of the land. He takes a breath that is audibly shakier than he would like, and Nia, pressed close to his side, notices. She gives him a concerned look that he ignores.

Nia sighs, but loops her arm through his to give what he thinks is supposed to be a reassuring squeeze. He swallows down the embarrassed heat in his throat, the kind that makes him want to snap and push her away. He’s reluctantly enjoying the sensation of her so close and so solid at his side. It's grounding.

Nia tries to start up a hushed conversation with Tobias and Samir once or twice, but each time she does Tobias gives her a frown and glances towards town, nervous about their voices carrying across the canyon. Eventually, she falls silent again. Probably wishing she had a book or something to pass the time.

Hours crawl by. They must, for the stars to slowly migrate overhead and the moon to rise higher and higher into the sky.

Their hiding spot isn’t exactly comfortable, out in the frigid cold and atop rocky terrain, but they try to keep quiet as they readjust, stretching and shuffling when their muscles grow tight and stiff.

Even Tobias is feeling antsy by midnight, torn between exhaustion from the long day and keyed-up tension from their stakeout. Samir looks as calm and unflappable as ever, gazing out towards the town. Tobias thinks Nia has nodded off a few times, until he sees her ear flick or feels her squeeze his arm in the warmth of their blanket cocoon.

“Hey, Samir?”

The riolu’s soft voice feels loud and out of place after the silence. Tobias gives her a warning look, but this time she ignores him.

Samir glances at her.

“You don’t have to answer, but…” Nia takes a breath, the exhale clouding the night air. “Why are you out here on your own? In Asra, I mean. You’re a Seeker, right? At the Lexym Guild, all Seekers have to have a partner.”

Tobias watches Samir’s face, curious despite himself. The skiddo looks caught off-guard at first, but then they look away, their expression closed-off. There's something there, though, poorly hidden just under the surface. Something Tobias recognizes.

Anger.

“I-I’m sorry,” Nia hurries to say. “You really don’t have to talk about it, I just—“

Nia cuts herself off as Samir starts writing in the dirt with the tip of their hoof. They write one word. Pause. Write another. Much slower than they’ve written anything else.

When they’re done, Tobias leans in with Nia to read.

HAD PARTNER

NOT ANYMORE

“Oh,” Nia whispers, her free paw coming up over her mouth. “I…I’m so sorry.”

Tobias feels a lump grow in his own throat, remembering all too clearly how just a week ago he thought Nia might die from her illness. Leaving him alone again.

But Samir shakes their head, as if to correct them. They write again with sharp drags of their hoof.

ALIVE

DIDN’T WANT

Nia frowns. “Didn’t..? You didn’t want them to be your partner?”

Samir winces. Moves to add a single word to the end of their sentence.

“Oh,” Tobias says, quiet. “They…didn’t want you.”

Samir goes still, staring down at their hoof still poised to write. Their face is hard and almost blank. A practiced kind of expression.

“What?” Nia whispers. “But…why wouldn’t they want you as a partner? You’re like the perfect Seeker! You take your job seriously and you’re observant and nice and—“

Samir looks her dead in the eye, an uncharacteristic spark of hurt in their expression. Then, they tilt their chin up and pat the flat of their hoof against their neck, twice.

At this angle, Tobias can see the edge of a large scar peeking out from the mane of leaves around their throat, even in the darkness. Still pink—relatively fresh. A few months old, if that.

Tobias’ hand drifts up to his own scarf.

“They didn’t want to be your partner because you can’t speak?” Nia asks, clearly bewildered.

“I think they were partners, when Samir lost their voice,” Tobias rasps.

The skiddo nods once at Tobias, looking even more tired than usual.

If that was supposed to soothe Nia, it only does the opposite. Tobias can feel her fur bristle against his side.

“What?!”

Tobias shushes Nia, glancing below them at the dark path.

Nia lowers her voice, but is no less incensed. “You were already partners and they just…gave up on you because you got hurt?”

Samir nods. The skiddo’s discomfort is clear enough that even Tobias is about to elbow Nia and urge her to drop it.

But Nia lunges forward, free paw slapping to the dirt. “That’s terrible!”

Samir looks surprised by the heat of Nia’s comment, leaning back and blinking at her.

“What kind of partner—heck, what kind of decent person does that?!” Nia fumes. “What, they couldn’t learn freakin’ Morse code or something? What a stupid excuse!”

Samir frowns at Nia, but looks more frustrated than anything. They shake their head and hurriedly scribble something in the dirt.

MISSIONS TOO FAST

HAVE TO TALK

Well, it would be a bit difficult to communicate in the middle of a fight without speech. Especially when Samir can’t even use sign language thanks to their hooves.

But Nia fervently shakes her head. “No! No, that’s—don’t make excuses for them. We’ve been communicating with you just fine for days and we literally just met you!”

Tobias’ brows lift. She does have a point. He looks back to Samir.

The skiddo’s eyes narrow. They huff, writing again and underlining the last word with an angry jab of their hoof.

WRITING SLOW

MISSIONS FAST

Nia huffs, crossing her arms. “There are other ways to communicate besides talking, even in the middle of a mission.”

Samir gives Tobias a wide-eyed look, clearly hoping for backup. Tobias just lifts his hands in surrender.

“She insisted on partnering with me. And I used to be even more of a jerk than I am now. Good luck.”

Samir’s mouth twitches like they’re fighting a smile. Before they can write a rebuttal, their ears prick to attention. They snap their head up, looking towards the path to town. Nia’s gaze follows the skiddo's, her own ears tilting forward.

They must hear something. Tobias double-checks that his tail flame is hidden.

“This isn’t over,” Nia promises—threatens?—with a point of her finger at Samir. The skiddo gives her an unimpressed look and bats her paw away with a hoof. Tobias shushes them both.

Sure enough, a half minute later, movement catches Tobias eye. It's hard to make out in the darkness, but as the shape gets closer Tobias recognizes a smaller figure, likely just a bit bigger than himself. Bipedal. They’re in a cloak, hood up, which is suspicious in itself.

The figure picks their way across the rocky terrain and starts the climb up to the mine, just a few feet away from their hiding spot. Tobias holds his breath, Nia and Samir still as stone at his sides.

The figure disappears over the lip of the rocks, into the cave, and silence falls again.

“Should we follow them?” Nia murmurs.

“Let’s give ‘em a minute or two. Make sure they don’t just come back out.”

They wait, tense and gazes locked onto the yawning darkness of the cave. Tobias’ breath leaves him in a quiet cloud of steam. His heart beats steady and swift against his chest.

“Okay, they’ve gotta be doing something in there,” Tobias whispers. “Let’s check it out. Just be ready for a fight.”

Nia slips out from the hiding place first, and Tobias moves to follow. Samir stops him, stepping in his path with a shake of their head.

“What?” Tobias asks.

Samir frowns, then writes something in the dirt. Tobias glances again at the cave before pulling his tail closer to read it.

STAY

TAIL BRIGHT

Tobias’ face flushes, and he flicks his tail self-consciously behind him. “I can’t just let you two go in there alone!”

Nia gives him a sympathetic look. “Sorry Tobias, but, uh…Samir’s got a point. If we’re trying to be subtle, then your tail is pretty noticeable.”

Tobias huffs, crossing his arms. They’re right. Doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Fine. I’ll wait outside. But call for me if anything goes wrong.”

Nia gives him a smile and a nod. Samir leads the way down to the cave, peering cautiously around the edge of it. After a beat, they slip inside. Nia treads after him on quiet paws, blending into the shadows with her blue and black fur.

Tobias stands just outside the cave, off to the side to avoid being a literal beacon, and strains to listen for any sign of a fight. He doesn’t doubt Samir's (or Nia's) capabilities, but he doesn’t like his partner going in there without him if there’s a potentially dangerous criminal lurking about.

Thankfully, it’s only a minute or so before Nia jogs back to the opening. She looks perplexed, but not panicked.

“We can’t find anyone.”

Tobias frowns. “But the tunnel’s blocked off.”

He follows the riolu in, glancing up at the roof and from side to side as they walk deeper. It only takes a minute for them to reach the same spot they’d hit this morning, with the caved-in tumble of rocks and dirt and the broken-down mine cart. Sure enough, there’s no one here but an equally unsure Samir.

Tobias turns around, suspicious. “They couldn’t have just vanished!”

“Could a ghost type do that?” Nia asks, feeling around the rocky walls again. “Turn invisible or go through the cave-in or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Tobias murmurs, glancing at Samir for confirmation. The skiddo seems like they’re barely listening, also nudging around rocks and debris. Still, they take a moment to meet Tobias’ eye and shrug. Helpful.

Nia has made her way back over to the mine cart, peering behind it. “Tobias, can you come here for a sec? Maybe the lantern moved.”

He moves to her side, pulling his tail around and look into the dark wedge of space where they’d found the lantern this morning. But all Tobias sees are the imprints in the dirt.

“It’s gone,” Tobias confirms.

Samir steps past him, leaning down to sniff at the imprints. Then, their head tilts ever so slightly, looking instead at the nearest wheel of the mine cart like something caught their eye. Nia crouches to inspect it too.

Tobias follows them, brows shooting up as he notices what they have. There’s a faint line in the dirt behind each wheel: drag marks where the cart was scooted over a foot or so before being dragged back into place.

“Oh, good find!” Nia says.

“The cart was moved?” Tobias asks.

“Should we look underneath?” Nia asks in return. She doesn’t wait for an answer, lying on her belly to peer beneath the cart. She slips a paw under and a faint blue light spills out at she uses her aura to take a look.

She gasps. “There’s a hole under here! Big enough for someone around our size to fit through.”

“Sneaky,” Tobias murmurs. “Help me move it.”

“W-We’re following them down there?”

Samir shakes their head, expression hard. The skiddo writes a quick note in the dirt.

DANGEROUS

GET CALDER

“Samir’s right,” Nia says, shifting uneasily. “We don’t know if this’ll turn into a fight or what’s waiting for us down there.”

But if they go get Calder, will he just insist on taking a look himself, without their help? What if Rosalind and Granite don’t count that as Team Scarlet solving the problem, and don’t give Tobias the information they’ve worked so hard for? What if this is nothing malicious and they’re kicked out of town for trespassing in the mines before they really can solve the earthquake issue?

Tobias’ stomach sinks at the thought.

“We'll just take a quick look,” Tobias says.

Samir gives a quiet stomp, shaking their head and glaring at Tobias. They underline the word DANGEROUS in the dirt.

“Samir’s right—we don’t know what’s down there,” Nia hedges, clearly wanting to keep the peace. “Maybe Calder will let us help investigate?”

“And if it’s not connected to the quakes and we’re kicked out of town instead?” Tobias presses, trying to sound rational instead of desperate. “It was only one ‘mon! We can take ‘em if they put up a fight.”

Samir huffs and shakes their head again, but Tobias can tell he’s winning Nia over. He feels a bit bad taking advantage of the riolu’s peacekeeping nature, but he can't risk the possibility of them failing this mission and missing out on Rosalind’s info.

“I’m going,” He decides. He presses his back to the cart and leans his weight into it. “You two can wait up here if you want.”

Samir snags Tobias’ scarf with their horn, yanking him away from the cart. Tobias hisses and swipes at the skiddo until they back off.

“Don’t touch that! You aren’t stopping me!” Tobias growls, a few embers climbing up his throat. He clutches at his scarf protectively.

“Don’t fight!” Nia says, stepping between them. She looks back and forth, nibbling on her lip. “O-Okay, how about we just take a peek, see if we can see anything. Then we can go tell Calder if it looks suspicious.”

Samir is clearly as unhappy about that compromise as Tobias is, but neither one offers a protest.

Nia joins Tobias in pushing back against the cart, just until it rolls a foot or so across the dirt. They try to take it slow to avoid the old rusted metal squeaking too loudly.

When it’s pushed aside, Tobias holds out his tail to see a fairly large hole dug into the ground, just as Nia said. A fraying rope ladder is staked into the dirt at the top, leading down into impenetrable darkness.

“Looks inviting,” Nia says weakly.

Samir huffs, tapping their hoof to one of their previous words in the dirt.

CALDER

Panic gnaws at Tobias chest, and he tries to keep it out of his words as he says, “This could still be something completely unrelated. Let’s just go down to check it out.”

Nia wrings her paws. Samir stares at Tobias with a hard gaze, clearly understanding exactly what it is that Tobias is doing.

“Look, you two don’t have to come with me, okay?” Tobias grumbles, rolling his eyes. “I’ll go check it out myself.”

Tobias doesn’t give Nia or Samir the chance to stop him. He swings himself over the lip and puts his weight down on the first rope rung, feeling it dip under his foot.

“Tobias!” Nia whisper-shouts, clearly freaking out. “Stop! W-We should really go get Calder.”

“You two go get him,” Tobias says, easing his way down one step at a time. “I’m checking it out.” And hopefully whoever he finds will be weak enough for him to handle on his own.

Nia whimpers something under her breath. Then, the rope ladder sways and jerks with a movement not Tobias’ own. He looks up, not entirely surprised but very relieved to see Nia stepping down after him. He wasn’t going to force her to follow him, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t let him go alone.

Tobias continues his descent, taking the next few rungs step by step. The rope creaks under their weight.

The ladder suddenly jerks, a bit rougher than before, and Tobias’ head snaps up again. But Nia is looking up too, lighting a ball of aura in her paw and holding it up as she whispers, “Samir?”

Tobias can barely see the vague silhouette of Samir clumsily making their way down the rope ladder after them, making the ladder sway and shake as they try to hook their legs around the rungs.

Tobias feels more of the nervous weight on his shoulders melt away. A small part of him feels guilty for basically forcing the other two to follow him down, but he shoves it away and continues on. This is important. They’ll be fine with all three of them.

They go lower and lower, drowning in tense silence. The walls of the tunnel close in on them, dark and stifling all sound. Tobias is grateful for his tail flame, letting them see where their footing is.

Finally, Tobias sees a faint glow of light below. He hurries his steps, gripping hard to the rope as Samir’s clumsy movements rock the ladder.

Tobias touches down on cold dirt in a small, enclosed space. As Nia follows, hopping to the ground and helping Samir down the last few steps, he turns.

The smaller space opens up to a much larger, much brighter cavern that is bathed in a low, rosy light. He steps into the cave, craning his head back to take it all in.

Much like the tunnels under the Lexym Guild, the dirt and rock of the cavern is lit by chunks of crystal sticking out of the walls and floor, embedded in both large and small chunks. Some are a deep pink, and some are a golden yellow. Tobias takes a step closer to one to touch it, startled by the warmth at his fingertips.

They almost seem...familiar, in a way. After a moment, he realizes where he’s seen them before. These must be the crystals used in weather-lengthening battle items, like heat rocks and smooth rocks. Huh.

“Tobias!” Nia whispers.

He turns, something in his partner's voice putting him on edge. Nia is hurrying closer to him, staring nervously at the opposite wall of the cave. It’s only after Tobias catches movement flashing along its surface in patches that he realizes what he’s looking at.

“Mirrorstone?” He asks, cautiously moving closer to investigate.

“I thought Granite said the town ran the mirrorstone supply dry,” Nia murmurs, following.

“He did,” Tobias confirms, frowning as he reaches out to touch one of the stones. It’s cool, its reflection clear enough that he can see the minuscule scales of his skin this close up.

Nia whimpers and tugs at Tobias’ arm. He gives her a look.

“It’s a reflection, right?” She whispers. “W-What if Giratina can see us through there?”

Tobias’ heart skips a beat. He hurriedly steps back and away from the wall, Nia stumbling along with him. Samir, who had followed them over, looks between them and the wall, clearly alarmed by their reaction.

“Maybe he can’t find us down here,” Tobias says, more out of a desperate attempt at reassurance than any actual faith in the thought.

Nia doesn’t answer, which tells him he didn’t quite sell it.

Before anyone can say anything else, there’s a distant shout, echoing into the cave. Tobias’ head snaps up to follow the noise, only now noticing the large tunnel dug into one of the walls, leading off to the side and around a bend.

Almost immediately after, the ground beneath them, around them, above them, begins to shake. Tobias curses and grabs onto one of the larger chunks of crystal. Nia huddles against him, and Samir braces against them both.

Tobias fears this will be another big quake, but it only lasts a few seconds, and it doesn’t rip apart the ground like the earthquake that hit Deidra’s saloon. This one feels more gentle, quickly petering off into stillness once again.

It’s not until a second voice, deeper and louder but still indistinguishable, sounds off from the same direction that Tobias registers the vibration for what it likely was.

That wasn’t a quake, was it? It was a Pokemon moving. Digging around beneath the earth.

Tobias shuffles closer to the opening of the tunnel, ignoring Nia’s quiet protest. His eyes trace the walls of it as it leads away from the cavern.

While the cave they’re in feels naturally-made, what Tobias can see of this tunnel looks more…artificial. There are huge, rhythmic grooves set into the walls, and many of the gems embedded into the surface are cracked or sliced in half. As if something very, very big dug this tunnel. Burrowed right through the earth and stone with ease.

Nia and Samir follow his gaze, and Tobias can see them piecing it together as well. Nia’s ears pin to her head, and Samir takes a cautious step backwards.

“C-Could the Pokemon we saw do all this?” Nia asks.

Tobias swallows. The distant voices are audible again. Voices, plural. There’s definitely more than one Pokemon down here with them.

Tobias takes a step towards the voices. Samir grunts and hurries to stand in front of him, head lowered and horns pointing straight at his face. The message is clear.

“W-We should really go get Calder,” Nia whispers in agreement, glancing up at the tunnel walls again. “We don’t know what kind of Pokemon is up ahead.”

They’re right. Tobias knows they’re right.

But the thought that somehow, someway, if they don’t take these guys down all on their own then they won’t get the info that Rosalind promised as a reward…

That thought fuels the determined fire in his chest.

“I’m checking it out,” Tobias says, stepping around Samir.

“Tobias!” Nia grabs his arm, yanking him to a stop. She looks scared. “Please, we can go get help and come back. We—“

“Have to figure this out on our own,” Tobias hisses, pulling his arm free. “If Rosalind doesn’t think we carried our weight, she might not…this trip can't have been for nothing, Nia!”

“It wasn’t for nothing!” Nia snaps, blinking back tears. She glances down the tunnel, then back at him with a frown. “We’ve helped so many people in this town, Tobias! That’s not nothing!”

“But it’s not what I came here for,” Tobias growls.

Before she or Samir can argue further, he spins and hurries as quietly as he can down the tunnel, to the next bend in the path. His reflection follows him in the corner of his eye, showing bits and pieces of his visage in the patches of mirrorstone embedded into the walls.

Nia, of course, follows, though her distress is palpable as she alternates between shooting the walls nervous glances and giving him a pleading expression. Samir hesitates farther back, glancing over their shoulder as if considering going to town to grab Calder. But then they shake their head, visibly angry, and follow.

Tobias checks that the coast is clear, the voices a bit louder but still a bit of a ways away. Then he hurries forward again, stepping carefully around sharp, broken stone and crystal.

He slows considerably as the voices grow in volume. The yellow glow of a lantern—probably the one they’d found this morning—paints the cave walls ahead in a slightly brighter light that winks and gleams in the pieces of mirrorstone. Tobias can hear the voices grow louder and sharper as they approach. One of them, the higher one, sounds vaguely familiar. The second voice with the much deeper tone is completely unknown.

Tobias peers around the edge of the tunnel. After a moment, Samir huffs and ducks under Tobias’ arm. Nia leans lightly against Tobias' back to peer over his head.

Ahead, in another open cavern, are two Pokemon. The figure they'd followed into the tunnels has pulled down their hood, and Tobias recognizes the dark pointed ears and turquoise fur even from behind. Eddy, the dewott construction crew manager.

Facing Eddy, dwarfing his form, is a massive silver face. It’s peering out from the darkness of the tunnels with a heavy jaw of blocky teeth and black-rimmed eyes. The cavern's colorful stones and the lantern’s light reflects off the Pokemon’s thick metallic hide.

“A steelix,” Tobias murmurs, a nervous chill rolling down his spine. Now that's a Pokemon who can cause some damage. Guess they know for sure who dug these tunnels now.

Tobias' eyes trace the heavy split of a scar cracking through the steelix's shell, starting over the Pokemon's left eye and trailing all the way down to his jutting lower jaw. The blood red color of that iris is dulled slightly, clearly damaged from whatever left such a mark.

“You almost took me out with that quake yesterday!” Eddy is snarling, paw waving. “Half of Deidra’s saloon came down!”

The steelix snorts, kicking up dust and grit with his breath. “You asked for destruction. I gave you destruction. Not my fault you can’t watch your own tail. Sounds to me like I’m just doing my half of the job.”

Well, there’s the confirmation they were looking for. So these two are working together to cause destruction aboveground? Who even is the steelix? Tobias knows he would remember seeing him around. Not easy to miss a ‘mon that big.

“Can it. Unless you suddenly figured out how to use rain dance, the quakes won't cause half as much damage without me. Heck, remember that I’m the whole reason this operation even works! You wouldn’t get paid without me.”

The steelix rumbles something in response, looking irritated, but Tobias is occupied decoding that information.

Getting paid? The construction crew is making big bucks repairing all of the damages from the quakes, but could money really be the motive behind this?

Pokemon died due to these quakes. And Eddy just…doesn’t care?

Tobias almost doesn’t want to believe it, but the dewott basically admitted it himself. And Eddy is a water type—it would make sense he would know rain dance, would be able to loosen up the soil so the “quakes” do as much damage to the buildings’ foundations as possible. Add on the steelix tunneling around down here right under the town, and they don’t even need moves to cause massive, devastating damage.

Suddenly, Tobias recalls a few moments from the past couple of days in a new light. Eddy turning them away from interrogating Cody, redirecting their investigation when they were getting too close to the real culprit. The dewott slapping down an obscene amount of poké at Deidra’s saloon. Eddy telling his crew so confidently that there won't be any more rain for a while.

Nia’s paw, balanced on his shoulder, tightens. He has a feeling she’s thinking of the same thing. All the clues they missed.

Meanwhile, Eddy and the steelix are still arguing. The dewott is saying something about bringing in more ‘mon to help mine the mirrorstone in these caves and outsource it to another location. He really does only care about the money, doesn’t he?

Tobias stuffs down his anger and pulls back, glad when Nia and Samir quietly follow his lead. His partner stares at him with a pleading, desperate look. Samir glares at him, clearly telling him this won’t end well if they attack.

Tobias hates it, but he knows the skiddo is right. As much as Tobias wants to rip into these jerks, he knows logically that they need to get out of here and get backup from Calder, threat to Rosalind’s info or not. Tobias is confident they could take Eddy in a fight, especially with Samir’s advantage over the water type. But a seasoned steelix, big as a building and powerful enough to burrow so easily through the desert earth? Even Tobias can admit they aren’t ready for that.

But as if the universe itself were out to spite Tobias for such a thought, a pebble slips from the wall they’d just been leaning against. It bounces to the ground, impossibly loud. Tobias freezes, Nia and Samir going wide-eyed and still as well.

Eddy and the steelix fall silent.

Tobias holds his breath, glad that they’d at least ducked back around the lip of the tunnel.

Until he glances up, to one of the clusters of mirrorstone embedded into the tunnel wall across from them. In its reflection, he can see Eddy and the steelix around the corner, clear as day.

Which means the crooks can see them, too.

It’s quiet enough for Tobias to hear the dewott hiss, “Thought I heard something. Take those brats out or we both go down.”

“Run!” Tobias barks, shoving Nia back the way they came. Samir bolts ahead of her.

Behind them the steelix growls and gives chase, making the walls of the tunnel shake. Tobias doesn’t dare look over his shoulder, sprinting as hard as he can and willing Nia not to trip over one of the rocks embedded in the uneven ground.

Somehow, they make it back to the cavern with the rope ladder. Samir is hopping impatiently from hoof to hoof at its bottom. Stupid self-sacrificing grass type, waiting to start climbing after Nia and Tobias so they don’t slow everyone down.

Nia’s ahead of Tobias, longer legs at work, and for a moment Tobias thinks they’re going to make it. It’s Samir—suddenly stopping their nervous movement, confused eyes trained over Tobias’ shoulder—that clues him in that something is wrong.

And Tobias realizes too, once he notices the lack of noise through his lung-ripping gasps.

Why is it so quiet?

Tobias glances over his shoulder, only to see…nothing. No one chasing them. There are only the faint vibrations of the tunnels. Growing stronger, shaking, and then—

The ground beneath their feet crumbles and cracks.

Nia yelps and Samir hurries to her side to steady her. Tobias curses and stumbles, gritting his teeth against the painful tilting of the attack. And this time it is an attack. Tobias can feel it, feel the ground type energy assaulting his very being.

Then, the ground isn’t just shaking and cracking, it’s opening up beneath him. A yawning maw of black that swallows him whole and steals the breath from his lungs.