#YOU REALLY HELPED ME FINISH THIS CHAPTER!!!

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 5)

This one is kind of Jinu orientated! Welcome to the debut chapter of Soda Pop! Please enjoy :3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

‘Okay, what's the big deal? Also, you were eavesdropping on me?’ Y/N pointed an accusing finger at Rae, who annoyingly did not look a single bit guilty.

‘I wanted to make sure you were safe.’ 

‘I was safe. How do you think I’ve been surviving this entire time before you guys came along?’ Y/N threw up her hands in indignation. ‘In fact, the most danger I’ve been in was when you guys tried to take my soul. Remember that?’

The boys collectively winced, knowing she was right.

‘She has a demon voice. She caused damage to the Honmoon, your friend is dangerous.’ Rae walked forward, taking her arm and pulling her toward the kitchen island

‘Rumi didn’t do it on purpose, she was scared and confused. She would never hurt me.’ Y/N sat down to Rae’s ushering. ‘What, what is-?’

‘It’s some sokkoritang. (Ox Bone Soup) You haven’t eaten.’ Jinu scooped up a bowl of rice from Y/N’s barely used rice cooker. She couldn't even remember if she bought it or it came with the penthouse.

‘I made it, so eat up.’

Y/N picked up her spoon, as Jinu placed a bowl of rice in front of her.

‘Thank you…’ She stared down at the bowl, stunned at the unexpected kindness.

‘We need you to be functional so we can steal Huntr/x’s fans.’ Jinu explained hurriedly, his cheeks coloured with a pretty peach colour. Luckily for him, this went unnoticed by Y/N, who was digging into her meal.

The soup was perfectly seasoned, flavourful and balanced.

How long had it been since Y/N actually had homecooked food? At least in this world, it had been months since she was able to have any, being on a world tour with the Huntr/x girls. It was a simple luxury she had since abandoned for convenience.

‘This is… It was amazing. Thank you Jinu.’ Y/N finished, standing to put her bowl in the sink. The rest of the Saja boys were rehearsing their song in the living area.

‘It was nothing.’ Jinu breathed out, as if a weight had been lifted from him. ‘Before things got really bad… I would help my mother cook.’ Jinu took Y/N’s bowl, placing it in the sink as he turned on the tap.

‘But that was four hundred years ago.’ He finished, tone hardening.

‘The food was amazing, you’d make a wonderful house wife Jinu.’ Y/N joked, leaning against the countertop next to Jinu as he washed the bowl. She could feel the unease, radiating off Jinu’s being.

‘Yeah?’ He smirked, shaking off the excess water from his hands. ‘You gonna find me a suitable husband?’ 

‘Hmm, I don’t know anyone willing to marry a maiden with such, attitude. I’m afraid we’re the only people who can put up with it.’ Y/N gestured to herself and the Saja Boys.

‘Is that so?’ Jinu hummed, gazing at Y/N forlornly as she nodded approvingly at the boys who were nailing their choreography.

‘Jinu, I get that you’re worried I might run off or that I’ll stop writing for you. But you can’t send-’

‘They all wanted to.’

‘Jinu…’ Y/N exhaled, turning to face the man, who at least this time, looked slightly guilty. ‘I have your number. You don’t have to send someone to look after me.’

‘Okay…’ He refused to meet her eye, staring at a blank spot on the wall to his left.

‘Although, I don’t mind the tiger. It’s so cute.’ Y/N gave him a forbearing smile. 

‘Yeah?’ Jinu grinned, face lighting up. ‘Did you see it’s-’

‘Tiny hat? Did you make it for the tiger?’ 

‘Yeah, but my bird keeps taking it.’ Jinu summoned the tiger with a flick of his hand, said creature appearing out of her floor.

‘Oh my goodness, hello there sweetheart!’ Y/N cried out, kneeling in front of the curious tiger.

‘Who is she calling sweetheart?’ A voice replied from the living space, sounding irate.

‘Oh, it’s the tiger.’ Another voice answered, footsteps shuffling toward the kitchen.

‘Oh, you precious little thing.’ Y/N splayed her hand, palm side up. The tiger gave a pleasant growl, rumbling as it butted its head against Y/N’s hand.

‘It’s cute but not that cute.’ Beom pouted, crossing his arms.

‘What do you mean?’ Y/N pouted in return. This baby is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, arent’cha?’ Y/N gave the blue tiger scratches underneath its chin.

‘Alright, you’ve got to sleep. Our debut is tomorrow and you need to be there.’ Jinu, waved his hand, causing the tiger to begin to sink back into the ground. The creature let out a downcast rumble in protest.

‘Aw..’ Y/N protested, waving goodbye to the equally disappointed creature. ‘Wait, why do I have to be there?’ 

‘So I have someone to focus on. You don’t want me to get stage fright, do you?’ Rae smirked, leaning toward Y/N’s face.

‘Hey, hey, what did I say about fake flirting.’ Y/N laughed, pushing away Rae’s face with a guiding hand.

‘Who said it was fake.’ Rae grumbled quietly under his breath, retreating toward a spinning chair.

‘Anyways, I will go to sleep. But only because I wanna go grocery shopping tomorrow. There’s this new snack I’ve been wanting to try.’

‘Oh, you mean this one?’ Rae held up a bag of the very snack that Y/N had been craving.

‘What, how?’ She spluttered, reaching towards the packet.

‘I saw you look at it twice when you were buying Kimbap with the demon hunter.’ Rae dangled the packet above her head, keeping it just out of reach.

‘Hey! I thought you bought it for me!’ Y/N jumped, swiping at the bag.

‘I did, but you gotta promise you’ll come to our performance tomorrow.’ Rae smirked, waving around the snack bag teasingly.

‘Ugh, Jinu, make him give it to me.’ Y/N pouted, pointing at Rae angrily.

‘You gotta promise.’ Jinu laughed, a tender heat spreading through his chest as he watched Y/N swipe at Rae. The way his friends got along with their new writer didn’t go unnoticed by him. To be honest, it was actually endearing to some degree. Like he and his friends had gotten a new pet.

‘Fine.. FINE I’ll be there so lemme-’ Y/N leapt, finally snatching the bag out of Rae’s hand, falling back into Mystery’s arms, almost collapsing on the floor.

‘Oops, sorry Mystery.’ Y/N stood, with the purplehaired man’s help.

‘Just Min, is fine.’ The soft spoken man replied, seemingly checking for any injury as he spun her around slowly. 

‘Alrighty, Y/N you go to bed. The rest of us will continue our rehearsal. We’ll be quiet, we promise.’ Abel placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulders, guiding her to her room as the rest of the boys stood up, beginning their stretching routine.

‘Goodnight everyone!’ Y/N called out, looking behind her.

‘Night Y/N!’ ‘Sleep well!’ ‘Sweet dreams Y/N!’ ‘Night.’ The boys chorused, while Abel walked her to her room.

‘Are you guys ready?’ Y/N opened her bedroom door, walking into her room.

‘Yeah, pretty much. We just need to make everything a little sharper. Otherwise, we’re pretty much perfect.

‘Thats great! Y/N smiled, pulling out pajamas from her closet.

‘Here, gimmie that.’ Abel tugged Y/N’s snack bag. ‘What are you gonna do, eat it in your sleep?’

‘Hey, I so could!’ Y/N laughed, releasing her hold on the food. ‘Now turn around or get out. I need to change.’

‘I have a question.’ Abel turned to face the bedroom door, closing his eyes for good measure.

‘Yeah?’

‘Has what happened to me, happened with any of the other boys?’ 

‘You mean that weird light that made your patterns shine?’ Y/N pulled her pants up, letting the elastic snap around her waist. ‘Yeah, actually when you guys went to go get me breakfast this morning, Beom and I had a chat.’

‘And?’

‘Well, I made this pattern shine, I touched his shoulder when we were talking about the deal he made with Gwi-ma.’ Y/N recounted, sliding herself into bed.

‘Huh, y’know he doesn’t really talk about it much?’ Abel twitched, wanting to face Y/N. 

‘You can turn around now. But, no I didn’t. I guess, at that moment I just felt so…’ Y/N trailed off, trying to recount her emotions and convey them into words.

‘I wanted to help. I didn’t want Beom to let Gwi-ma take credit for his talent.’ 

‘So it can just be anywhere.’ Abel hummed, leaning on Y/N’s doorframe. ‘I see.’

‘I mean, I still don’t know how to control it. I touched Rae’s hand today but nothing happened.’ Y/N shook her head, pulling the comforter to her chest.

‘Mm, sounds like there needs to be intent behind those touches.We can talk more about it tomorrow. For now, just sleep.’ Abel nodded, stepping back and beginning to close the bedroom door. ‘Sleep tight.’

‘Night Abel.’ Y/N closed her eyes as the demon switched off the lights, easing the bedroom door shut.

–

‘You’re sure she was part demon?’ Jinu inquired, as Abel walked back into the living space.

‘Positive.’ Rae nodded, the group sitting in a circle formation not unlike a formal meeting. ‘If her patterns weren't enough, she had a demon voice.’

‘That shockwave was caused by her?’ Mystery leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

‘Yes.’

‘She weakened the Honmoon.’

‘Is Y/N safe hanging around them?’ Beom picked at a loose thread on his sweater. 

‘We’ll keep an eye on her. I’ll send Derpy and Sussie to check on her.’ Jinu finalised, nodding his head.

‘You just had to show her you were following her, didn’t you Rae?’ Abel snickered, nudging the taller man with a playful elbow.

‘She was shivering. What was I meant to do? Let her freeze?’ He rolled his eyes, face slightly flushing a pretty pink.

‘Alright, let’s get back to work. Don’t forget, we’re here to steal Huntr/x’s fans.’ Jinu clapped his hands, breaking up the playful banter. He seemed troubled, his eyes were unfocused. Jinu was stuck between a rock and a hard place and seemingly with no other alternative.

As Y/N slipped into the realm of the unconscious, the Saja Boys continued their practice well into the early morning. They had finished around five am, deciding that they were ready to perform. All the boys made a brisk trip back to their neighboring apartment building to change.

Jinu however, stayed behind.

His reasoning?

‘I need to make breakfast for her so she doesn’t have an excuse not to come see the performance.’ Jinu shrugged, putting on an apron and rummaging through the fridge.

‘We’ll bring back your performance clothes so you can change after.’ Mystery nodded, patting his friend on the back. 

Jinu nodded, pulling out two eggs from the fridge, placing them into a bowl. 

Yeah, that was the reason he was making her breakfast. Why else would he do something like that? 

‘I need her so she can write more songs. So I can get Gwi-ma those souls, so I can forget.’ Jinu muttered, cracking the eggs into the bowl with one hand. He had already taken out a pan and set it on the stove, now pouring some oil into it.

‘That’s all. That's all it is.’ He shook his head, ‘She means nothing. I don’t care.’ Jinu mumbled, sliding the egg mixture into the pan, watching the edges bubble in the hot oil. A protesting groan, from the metal spatula, being dented from Jinu’s grip.

‘Mm, what smells good?’ A drowsy voice filled the incessant whispering in Jinu’s head, effectively drowning out the unwelcomed voices in his head in an instant.

‘Just some eggs. Sit down, I’m almost done.’ Jinu relinquished his hardened grip on the spatula, using it to separate the eggs from the bottom of the pan. ‘Grab a plate and some bread.’ 

Y/N rubbed her eyes, stumbling half blindly to the cupboard containing all her dinnerware. She pulled out a plate before returning to the table, letting the plate clink against the marble top. 

‘I didn’t buy any bread this month.’ Y/N whined, smushing her face into the tabletop.

‘Yeah, I bought some for you yesterday.’ Jinu turned around, pausing to take in Y/N’s groggy appearance. Her hair was unbrushed, eyes still crusted with rheum on the edges. She was still in her pajamas.

And yet…

Jinu’s chest ached, a mellow pang rushing through his chest, radiating through every fiber of his being.

This.

This homeliness. This domestication. It was something he had since long forgotten, left behind when he abandoned his family to live a cushy life in the palace. Even then he had never felt this much…

Joy. 

‘Heh, nice apron Jinu.’ Y/N giggled, using a fork to cut her eggs in half. ‘Pink suits you.’

Jinu glanced down, realising he still had Y/N’s apron on. 

‘All colours suit me.’ He sniffed haughtily, before pointing at Y/N, ‘And you can’t talk! Look at your pajamas!’

‘HEY I bought these because they're cute.’ She protested, taking a bite of her breakfast.

‘Childish.’

‘Nuh uh!’

The pair dissolved into a fit of giggles, as the elevator doors dinged open, revealing the rest of the boys.

‘Wow, my PJ’s and you apron does not compare to Abel’s crappy Hawaiian print shirt.’ Y/N howled with laughter, leaning back in her chair. Luckily for her, Jinu had caught her again, casually with his arm.

‘It was this, or palm trees…’ Abel sighed, looking down at his shirt. ‘Rae said that I couldn’t wear a plaid one.’

‘Plaid is an abomination. We want them to like us, not judge us for our fashion choices.’ Rae crossed his arms, his yellow chiffon top ruffling.

‘Huh, what will you be wearing Jinu?’ Y/N lifted her head to look at the man still holding on to her waist.

‘Hm, not sure, whatever Rae decided to give me.’

‘Yeah, I have your clothes right here. Unless you wanna debut in a pink frilly apron that's fine by me too.’

‘I’d rather not thank you.’ Jinu picked up the clothes from Rae’s hands and wandered off to Y/N’s bathroom.

‘You better not go through my drawers.’ Y/N called out.

‘I’m looking through 'em right now, I’m rummaging!’ Jinu called back, closing the door behind him

‘So, you guys ready? Excited?’ Y/N stood up, walking towards her bedroom. ‘Lemme get changed, I'll be right back.’

The boys nodded, watching Y/N disappear behind her door.

‘Did you see her pajamas?’ Beom sighed, a tiny smile on his face.

‘Is it weird that I think she’s cute?’ Min hummed, staring at Y/N’s closed bedroom door.

‘I’d think you were weird if you didn’t find her cute.’ Rae remarked, his chin resting on his fist.

They each felt an inexplicable pull towards the girl. As if she was anchoring them to the earth. These were feelings they hadn’t felt in centuries, locked away in a box, buried beneath their shame and fears. They had almost forgotten what it felt like to feel happy. Abel and Beom had forgotten what it was like to be able to have their own thoughts, unpolluted by the soiled words of Gwi-ma.

‘Alright, whose idea was it to put me in pink.’ Jinu raised an eyebrow, as the boys all collectively pointed at Beom.

The youngest let out an unholy screech as Jinu chased him around, chuckling darkly. Y/N opened her door, met with the whining of Beom and teasing of Jinu.

‘Say you’re sorry!’ Jinu laughed, giving a particularly painful noogie to the blue harried boy. They were both on the floor, Jinu had wrapped his legs around Beom's waist, holding him snug.

‘I’M SORRY.’ Beom whined, writhing in Jinu’s grip.

‘Will you ever do it again?’ Jinu held fast, driving his knuckles into Beom’s skull.

‘NOOOOOOO.’ Beom complained. ‘HELP ME Y/N!’ 

Y/N giggled, watching the scene unfold in front of her.

‘You guys are like brothers huh?’ Y/N sat down on her gaming chair, pulling her shoes on.

‘Yeah pretty much.’ Min nodded next to her. ‘Jinu brought us all together, years ago when he found beom.’

‘We don’t have to get into that now.’ Jinu brushed himself off, standing and straightening his clothing.

‘Aw, but I wanna hear the story.’ Y/N slumped down in her chair in protest.

‘Yeah but we have a debut to get to. Here, if our debut goes well, I’ll tell you who's the oldest.’

‘Is it not you?’ Y/N blinked, miffed. ‘You’re four hundred. Beom-ie is two hundred.-’ 

‘Give or take.’ Beom interrupted

‘Yeah, Beom is our youngest.’ Jinu gazed at the blue haired boy with pride, ruffling his hair. ‘He’s our pride and joy.’

‘Hey! I’m gonna have to wear a hat to cover this mess up now.’ Beom sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. Rae handed Beom a yellow beret, seemingly materialised out of thin air.

The group continued their conversation as they packed into the elevator. Y/N continued to guess at everyone’s age but none of the men would confirm her guesses. They found it funny that Y/N was unable to guess their age order correctly.

They reached the plaza as Y/N gave up, stalking behind the boys as they chattered to each other, occasionally teasing the pouting girl.

‘Y/N?’ A deep feminine voice called out. 

‘Huh?’ Y/N turned around, spotting a trio of girls walking out of a bathhouse. ‘Mira, Rumi and Zoey?’ 

‘Hey! You didn’t answer your phone.’ Rumi ran over to Y/N, giving her a hug. ‘I called but you didn't pick up, so I left a message asking if you wanted to come to the bathhouse with us!’ Rumi dragged Y/N toward Mira and Zoey. 

Y/N patted her pockets, searching for her phone.

Damn. She had left it at home.

Each of the girls were wearing somewhat of a disguise.  Zoey was wearing a yellow fuzzy bucket hat, obscuring her face, Rumi was wearing her pink hoodie, the hood covering her signature purple hair. Mira was wearing a black baseball cap, her face adorned by golden circular framed glasses. 

‘Yeah, are you free today?’ Mira gave an amused smile, leaning down to look at Y/N’s face closely. ‘Looks like you slept well last night. That’s good.’

‘Yeah! Wanna hang out with us? We’re taking today off!’ Zoey looped her arm around Y/N’s walking towards the plaza.

Y/N blinked, looking behind her, realising that the men had since disappeared.

'Yeah, we hear a new boy band is having a debut stage today and we wanna go judge them. What was their name. It was something stupid, to do with animals.' Mira chuckled, linking her arm around Rumi's.

'The Saja Boys. Honestly, sounds kinda corny.' Rumi laughed, the four walking toward a familiar beat filling the air.

'Huh, must be here. Look, there's pink mist.' Zoey pointed, leading Y/N and the erst of the girls to stand in the forming crowd.

The familiar beat of Soa Pop began to fill the air, as the pink mist revealed the Saja Boys.

'Don't want you, need you Yeah, I need you to fill me up.' Jinu began singing, spotting Y/N immediately, winking at her.

'Ew.' Rumi gagged, 'These guys are so cliché that it hurts.'

'Did he just wink at you?' Mira smirked, glancing between the boys performing and Y/N.

'Uh... maybe?'

'Oh, he was definently winking at her. They're all looking at her.' Zoey squealed, shaking Y/N excitedly.

'Wow, their song is annoyingly catchy though. It matches their vibe really well.' Mira brought her fingers to her chin, tapping her index finger thoughtfully.

'Huh, the writing style reminds me of you Y/N.' Rumi raised an eyebrow, as the boys continued to sing, blowing heart's out of thin air.

'Uh...'

'Wait, look!' Zoey gasped, pointing at the group. 'They have patterns! Look, you can see them.'

'Demons.' Rumi glowered, seeing under their human visage.

'What do we do?' Mira grumbled, looking at the huntr/x girls.

'They're demons, we just do what we always do. We kill them.' Rumi stalked forward, hands itching to grasp her sword. 'Besides, that one winked at our Y/N and I don't share.'

'Wait Rumi, it's too public.' Mira tugged Rumi back quickly, looking at the decent sized crowed.

'But look, they're coming after the fans. That must be why they're posing as this cringey boyband.' Rumi gestured widely to the boys, who were on a rising platform, decorated as a soda can. The Saja Boys had reached the climax of their song.

'I know, but we have to wait. Otherwise we'll have a swarm of fans questioning us. I don't think even Bobby would be able to cover that up for us.' Zoey mused with narrowed eyes, pulling Y/N behind her shielding Y/N with her body.

As the girls contemplated what to do, The Saja Boys finished their performance, sending one last flying kiss in Y/N's direction.

Rumi growled, watching the interaction.

'That's it for now! See you tonight, on everyone's favourite variety show! The Saja Boys love you!' Jinu flashed a charming smile, before giving Y/N a knowing smile.

The boys disappeared in a puff of pink smoke.

'We are so going to kill those dudes.' Rumi snarled, fixing her hoodie as the group walked back to the Huntr/x tower. 'Y/N do you wanna stay in the tower? We gotta get battle ready.'

'Uh, I actually have to go do the demo for What It Sounds Like remember? Y/N rubbed a hand on her neck nervously.

'Right...' Rumi sighed, smoothing back her braid. 'Okay well call us if anything happens. Actually, call us even if nothing happens okay?' Rumi babbled, swiping her key card at the front opening doors.

'She's right. Those boys seemed to be looking at you. They might try something so call us if you feel anything funny okay?' Mira placed a reassuring hand on Y/N's shoulder while Zoey gave her a hug.

'We'll text you when we send those demons back to where they belong! Maybe we can even record the song today!'

'Alright girls! Stay safe!' Y/N smiled, as the Huntr/x girls walked into the elevator.

'Bye Y/N/N!' The girls chorused, as the elevator doors shut.

Y/N released her breath, 'Oh damn. This is not good.'

Y/N hurried back to her apartment, checking her phone repeatedly.

'So, they wanna kill us tonight huh?' Abel smirked as Y/N rushed past the elevator doors.

'Yeah, I think the purple haired one has a crush on you.' Jinu raised an eyebrow, his face plastered with an unamused smile.

'What?' Y/N blinked.

'How come they get to call you Y/N/N.' Beom pointed at Y/N with his pastel yellow beret.

'YOU GUYS WERE FOLLOWING ME AGAIN?'

Part 6

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[c0tt0ncandi]

💜 A Sunday Kinda Love.💜

Hey y'all!! So Sinners has temporarily pulled me out of retirement. Forgive my writing I'm a little rusty.

Parings: Stack x OC feat. Smoke x Annie.

Word count: A Lot. 😭

Warning: Just a 🤏🏽 Mary shade, protective Smoke, and Annie being perfect per usual. Pretty fluffy. It's a pretty long one shot so I'd grab a blanket and something to snack on.

A/N: I wrote and edited this on my phone so PLEASE forgive any mistakes or weird spacing. Please don't steal my picture or story. I worked really hard on this and I hope you guys love it. 🫶🏽 I'm really sensitive y'all so be kind. Please?! 🙏🏽😭

Summary: Stack is looking for love, but can he find what his brother has? The women he's interested in just aren't cutting it and he's not sure if "sweet" is quite what he's looking for yet. Or is it?

Lena walked home from the market in her yellow dress and two braids laid against her scalp on a breezey April day. Spring was her favorite time of year. She loved being outside and leaving her windows open while she read her favorite books or napped. Others called her crazy for leaving her windows opened, but the breeze flowing in between her curtains was relaxing and kept her cool. Besides Lena's place was protected by her friend Annie's magic. She sometimes traded her pastries for protection. That's all Lena really wanted. No money spells and no love spells. Nothing more than protection and safety for her and her home.

It was just Lena so it wasn't that smart to leave the windows opened, but as of now she was safe living alone with nobody, but her, Annie's protection, and her baseball bat.

Lena took a seat at an empty park bench in front of a pond and put her bags down next to her. She had two chapters left in the book and she just had to finish it. The walk home was probably seven minutes away from the park and twenty from the market, but she didn't mind taking a quick reading break today.

"Aye one of these days someone is going to rock your shit and I can't help you. Stack your mouth is going to get you in trouble and so is fucking married women!" Smoke hollard at his brother as he furiously drove to his and Annie's house. His brother was definitely a ladies man, but he took it too far. A good woman was hard to find so taking one from a man that went in front of the congregation and said I do is a death sentence in his eyes. If anyone even stepped to Annie or attempted to talk to his wife he had no qualms of shooting him right then and there. He's done it before and he'll do it again.

Stack sucked his teeth as he brushed his brother off. "Ain't no nigga steppin' to me about shit. Especially not about his bitch."

His brother shot a look at him before focusing back on the road. "Keep calling them bitches especially field bitches and imma knock yo ass out myself. Our mama was a black woman in the field too so you disrespect them you disrespecting her. Another thing if they bitches why you keep fucking them and riskin' your life for some already owned pussy?"

"You preachin' this bullshit to me while you got someone to lay in bed with. Spend your nights and mornins with, cook for you, suck your dick, and live happily ever after with! What do I got, huh?!"

"Nigga I should bust you upside yo' head. You look for sex not a relationship! You look for temporary not forever. You look for those loose girls that want what you want and get mad when they get you before you can get them! I'm surprised yo dick ain't burning right now."

"Well my bad brother. Not everyone can find their forever at 15." Stack sucked his teeth as he looked at his surroundings passing by.

"Every fuckin' excuse in the mother fuckin' book."

Silence rang louder than the engine on their way home.

"I want you to find your own Annie. Not that white skinned broad either. Fucking with her will get yo black ass lynched. They don't give a fuck that she's got that one drop of nigger. She looks like them and she lives like them."

Stack shook his head. "She don't know the word no. Plus her ass can't cook. She turned her nose up to collard greens and measured her sugar for sweet tea."

They both broke the tension with a shared laugh.

Lena had finished her book and it was the perfect ending. The guy got the girl and they lived a happy life after. It was everything she wanted and more. Lena walked home with a smile and a new tune playing in her heart. She couldn't wait to get home and put some music on while she soaked in the bathtub.

As she was walking home a red Model T came zooming past her. Now Lena was a sturdy girl, but they almost knocked her over with the speed they were going. Lena collected her balance and continued walking home.

Stack's head flew back to the thick brown skinned woman in yellow walking by. He wanted Smoke to stop the car, but his brother had just lectured him about woman so he kept his mouth shut. Hopefully he would run into her when he was by himself. She was mighty fine and plenty thick and he didn't want Smoke to blow it for him.

Lena woke up to the sound of birds chirping, her fan slowly blowing, and car horns going off miles away. She stretched out her arms and sat up as she expressed her gratitude for waking up today. Hopeful for a good day Lena got up and headed to the restroom to start her day.

Stack rolled his eye and squeezed the pillow over his ears. No breakfast, no talking, no good morning just Annie's moans and a squeaky headboard. He was happy for his brother, but damn. Every morning? He wanted his own Annie. She was his brother's world. It would sometimes dawn on him that she was his other half. Sure sometimes it made him jealous because as a twin that should've his role, but that was the point of finding your soulmate and partner, right?

He got himself ready for the morning. As he was leaving the bathroom a glowing Annie walked out in a robe with his brother following behind her. He on the other hand looked like she gave him the ride of his life. Tank top was slightly ripped, lips swollen, and a bit of a limp.

Stack wanted to be jealous and mad about it, but he couldn't do anything but laugh. "She to' yo ass up!" His head dropped back with laughter as Annie tucked her head away into Elijah's neck.

Elijah wrapped his arms around his wife and shrugged with a small smile. "Worked me up an appetite. I'm starvin." He groaned into her ear before placing a slap to her ass.

Stack walked into the kitchen and shook his head. "Y'all real annoyin'."

Lena had her hair out. She noticed the aftermath of taking the braids out caused cute chunky curls to frame her face. She slipped her earrings in and put on her white sneakers. She had thrifted a cute red and white polka dotted dress that stopped above her ankles, an anklet that she made with old earrings and cute trinkets sat on her ankle. She threw on a little lipstick and rubbed her body down with some butters that she made herself. Lena grabbed her satchel, keys, and a new book that she started on last night and she headed out the door.

Lena needed to grab a few things from Grace and to return a book today to the library. Just a walk a few minutes shy of twenty minutes.

"Hey Lena!" The older gentleman a few minutes from her house greeted as he took his hat off to address the young woman. "I have some extra apples from my tree. Do you mind cooking me up a pie? I got whatever ingredients you needen to make it."

"No problem, Mr. Willie. When do you need it?" She asked never stopping her stride.

"No rush! Sunday morning after church would be perfect though."

"Throw in a few squash and a head of cabbage and I'll make you two pies. That sound good?"

"Sounds good to me. I'll drive them to your house later on today."

"I'll be back. Heading into town. Probably gonna stop by Chow's. Y'all need anything?" Stack asked as he fixed his hair and adjusted his cuff links.

"What you want for dinner tonight?" Annie asked as she handed Smoke his plate.

"Don't really matter to me long as it's meat and potatoes."

Annie shook her head with a smile. "Pot roast it is."

"With Sweet tea?"

"Anything for you Elias."

"Love you, sis!" He shouted before he headed out the door.

Lena left the library and was headed to Chow's to grab some material from Grace. Grace wanted her to make a skirt for her and Lisa this week. Lena loved working for them because they always paid well and brought her customers. The flowers in their store were from her garden. She brought some by every week. If they needed help she was usually the first person they called. If not her then it was Annie.

Lena didn't have a 9-5, but she worked just about every day. If she wasn't doing it for money it was for food or items. If someone needed help delivering a baby they called her. If someone was hurt or injured they'd usually come to her. Alterations? Flowers? Baked goods? She was the go to girl. That was also the reason many people didn't mess with her. You never bite the hand that feeds you.

"Hey, girl!" Grace greeted as she finished up with a customer.

"Hey, Lisa." Lena greeted the young girl with a smile after hugging Grace. Lisa didn't smile much, but she always smiled at and gave Lena a hug.

"Did you bring me somethin'?" She asked quietly so her mother couldn't hear.

"You already know I did." The sweet woman whispered and snuck the little girl two big chocolate chip cookies wrapped in brown parchment paper.

"Thank you!" She squealed. Her head turned towards the window and her lips perched at the sight of a tall man in red walking into her dad's shop.

"Lisa," Grace called and nudged her head towards the register. Grace walked from behind the counter and took Lena to the back.

As Stack was talking to Bo his head turned at the site of a woman with a fitted mini skirt walk in.

Bo hit his friend's shoulder and shook his head. "That's MRS. Suzette. Married to THE "one punch" Theodore."

Stack sucked his teeth. "What you do talk to Smoke? I'm just lookin'."

"That man that LOOKED at Annie got shot in the knee. These men are serious about their wives."

"You'd shoot for Grace?"

"If you even have to ask I'm not showing her enough love." Bo replied. "You need to talk to Grace's friend. She's real sweet and is a great cook."

"Ion know if I'm ready for sweet." He replied as he adjusted his collar and looked around.

It was Bo's turn to suck his teeth. "That's your problem. You keep finding someone to wet your whistle and that's it. There's more to a partner than sex. Find someone that builds you up and is there through thick and thin. Doesn't get tired of seeing your face everyday. The person you run to for comfort and vice versa. Someone you trust with your entire life. That's what Sweet gets you."

"You point her in my direction and I'll dip my tongue in it."

"Toe! The expression is toe, fool!" He playfully shoved his friend's shoulder.

Stack laughed as he placed his toothpick in his mouth.

"I'll bring these back to you by Saturday. Bye Grace. Bye Lisa."

The little girl waved as she got ready to cash out a customer.

Lena walked home with material in her bag and a few chocolates in hand. She strutted home with a tune in her head and a pep in her step.

"This girl you talking about. What she look like?" Stack asked as he picked at a few grapes that were on ice.

"She's a stacked one. Hourglass, brown eyes, and she always smells real good. She lives like 20 minutes away. She might be with Lisa now. Peak ya head in and see if she in there. She's supposed to be making them some dresses or something!" Bo shouted as Stack headed out of the door.

Stack headed across the street on a mission to see if said woman was still there. He was always allowed into the Chow's establishment, but her shop was mostly white people and it was usually frowned upon to have a black man shop with them. Stack really ain't give a damn.

"Grace, your thick friend still here?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "Who Lena?" Her eyes widened at the realization. "Hell no. You leave her alone. She's way too good for you. She's got her head on straight. She's not one of your whores." Grace put on a smile as one of her customers asked her a question. "Ten cents." She turned her head back to Stack and started pushing him out of her store. "She already left. If you see her leave her alone. Bye Stack."

Stack snatched an apple from her stand before heading back to his car.

As he was driving he took his knife out and tried to cut his apple. He looked up last minute and swerved to avoid hitting a large rock in the road causing him to cut his hand open. "Shit!" As he looked over he saw the same girl from yesterday walking in a red dress today. "Ooohwee it must be my lucky day!" He looked at his hand " Almost lucky. This can wait" and immediately stopped his car for her

Lena was almost at her house probably less than ten minutes away when she saw that same red Model T car zooming past her only this time it swerved and abruptly stopped ahead. It started to back up and she saw a man turn to her. He was very handsome. Hair was neat, had a beautiful smile, nice brown eyes, and a fancy suit. His arms filled out the jacket very nicely too. He wasn't anyone she'd ever seen before, but he was a good looking man.

"Good evenin'." Stack greeted with a nod.

"Evenin'." Lena greeted sweetly.

"Where you headed? This is the second day I've seen you walking. You must live close by, no?"

Her head cocked to the side as she tried to read him. "I might. This your second time seein' me? You ain't say nothin' to me the first time so why now? I wasn't good enough to stop for yesterday?" She teased.

He nervously chuckled his hand still bleeding. "No. My brother was actually driving and refused to stop." He reached over to open the door for her to get in.

Wary, she stepped back with hesitation. Although he was good looking she didn't know him. As soon as Lena was going to decline she noticed his hand was bleeding. "Your hand. That's a lot of blood. You need to put some pressure on it before you bleed out."

"Oh this?" He said as he lifted his hand "Naw it ain't that bad."

She hopped in and ripped an extra piece of fabric off that she had in her purse and wrapped it around his hand. "Put some pressure on it and move over." Lena hovered her body over his to get in the driver's seat as he moved underneath her.

He bit his lip and dropped his head back at the feeling of her ass brushing up against him. She was too focused on getting him bandaged up that she didn't even notice.

Lena hadn't driven in over a year, but she remembered how to do it. For the most part. "I'm takin you to my house to fix your cut. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." He was feeling a little faint. "Got anything to drink? Anything to eat?"

"You feelin weak?" She quickly handed him her purse. "I have some chocolates. We're almost home. Just snack on that until I can get you some water."

After a few more minutes they reached her house. She stopped the car and turned it off before getting out. She grabbed her bags and headed to the door with Stack following behind.

They headed in the house and she immediately grabbed some water, an apple turnover, and her first-aid kit. "Here have a seat. Eat this first."

He quickly took a bite and was taken by surprise. "These real good." He complimented as she pulled a chair up to him and took his hand in hers. "You got some soft hands and smell good, too. Sweet."

"Thanks I made them this morning." She ignored the other two compliments. She was here to help not sweet talk with him.

"They're good. Did you hear what I said about,"

"You ought to be mo' careful. Why was your knife out while you were drivin anyways?" Lena interrupted.

"Ummm I was eating my apple."

"Eatin' and drivin'? Sounds awful dangerous especially with how fast you drive."

"I wasn't going that, OUCH!" Stack flinched and pulled back.

"Don't be a baby. A big strong man like ya self squealin over some alcohol?" She lowered her head to his hand that sat on his lap and gently blew on his cut. Lena gazed up at him as he looked down at her.

His eyes dark and focused on her.

"Better?" She asked above a whisper.

"Y- yeah." His eyes watched as she efficiently and delicately stitched him up.

She hummed a soft lullaby as she grabbed a bandage and a pair of scissors. Lena clipped at the extra stitching and followed up with a secure bandage. "There. You all stitched up." She finished with a satisfied smile. Her eyes big and soft. Safe.

"Thanks." His hand still in hers.

Stack felt something but didn't know what he was feeling. He was happy. He was in awe. He was calm, but turned on, but not like usual. He wanted to get to know her. To be around her. She had him mesmerized.

He looked around the house and although it was small and filled with a lot personality it was neat. "Looks like you're a jack of all trade. Mind me askin what you do?"

Lena wiped her hands off and closed the kit. "If you askin what my title is I don't have one. I just do a little bit of everything for everyone. Little Lisa? I helped deliver her. Those flowers you always seein' at Bo's stores? They from my garden'. I do just about everything, but fix cars." She confessed with a giggle as she crossed her legs in front of him.

"Don't worry about that. I'm mighty handy when it comes to some wheels. I didn't see a car when we pulled up tho."

"I don't own one. Ain't no point. I don't go no further than the market." She poured two glasses of sweet tea and brought it to him.

"Thank you." He took a sip and he couldn't help but shake his head.

Lena's eyes widened at his reaction. She had the best tea on this side of town and she never heard anyone complain.

He pulled the tea back to examine it as a big smile spread across his face. "Probably the best damn tea I've ever had, but don't tell my sister Annie that."

Lena cocked her head to the side and stopped making the sandwiches to look up at him. "Annie? Moore?"

He chuckled and stood to his feet to walk over to her. "Married my brother 8 years ago. Been in our lives for 12. How you know her?"

She closed the bread to the sandwich and cut it in half. "I buy protection from her."

"You believe in it?" He asked as she handed him a plate.

"I believe in Annie. I believe she don't put her name on anything crazy. Her work been keepin' me out harms way."

Stack couldn't argue with that. She kept him and his brother protected while away at war. Hell kept him safe from some of these jealous husbands too.

He took a bit of the sandwich and stood in front of her shorter thick frame. "I should probably ask, do you have a husband?"

Lena leaned back against her table and took a bite. She shook her head. "Don't need one."

Stack chuckled, but stopped when he noticed her raise a brow.

"What's funny?"

He shook his head and wiped his mouth. "Nothin'. Just thinkin' what if someone break in? Havin' a man will protect you."

"Annie protects my home every month and the good Lord protects me everyday." She crossed her arms and looked up at him.

He smiled. "Okay. What if somethin' break?"

"My daddy taught me how to fix things. If I can't fix it Mr. Willie up the street has no problem helpin' me."

"Can't reach somethin'?"

"It's my home. I ain't puttin' somethin' somewhere I can't reach." She quipped with a small smile.

"Somethin' heavy? I'm pretty sure when you go out you need someone to help carry heavy things for you."

"I've always made a way." Lena replied.

"What about sex?" He inquired as he finished his sandwich and stepped closer.

"Sex ain't that important to me. I can handle some of that on my own." Lena replied with a raised brow. "Everything you sayin' I can find a way. Is that all you think you good fo'?" She asked. It was her turn to step closer to him. "Sex and heavy lifting?"

"And protection." He said slightly embarrassed by his answer.

"Baby, if I get a man. A husband" she said as a matter of fact. "I want him to know his worth in this world. Yes my husband can fix, lift, and lick things for me, but is he going to be there for me when I'm ill? Rub my feet when I'm pregnant? Will he support my temporary hobbies that I randomly pick up from time to time? If I'm too tired to cook is he going to make a big fuss about it or is he going to get straight to it in the kitchen? What if I'm having a bad day and don't want to talk? Are you going to be mad at me for my emotions? Will my husband speak as highly of me when I'm not around like I would do for him? Will my husband make love to more than just my body, but my mind and my soul? If I don't feel like having sex are you going to be mad and seek it out else where? I want to come home to peace and so should my husband. A healthy form of communication and respect on both ends is very important to me. I just want to make sure that if I'm going to spend the rest of my life with someone I need to know he's going to be there with me every step of the way without wavering."

"I can be that." Stack answered. "I love when my woman cooks for me, but I can also throw down in the kitchen. When our baby is cryin' and you spend all day nursing I'll be the one to wake up and change em'. You want to randomly ski in this 90 degree weather I'll be the first one in line at the ski store. Hell I'll build you some myself. I can oil your scalp when you too tired to do so and I can run your bath water after a rough day. If you don't want to talk I'll sit here with you in silence until you're ready. However I'd hope you'd never get so down to where I can't hear that pretty ass voice of yours. Be a damn shame." He teased.

He closed the little bit of space between them and rested his hands on either side of her.

Lena watched his eyes scan her face. From her brown almond eyes, round cheeks, to her plump lips. He focused on her lips longer than she needed him to. Lena was no stranger to eye contact so he wasn't intimidating. She had strong will and knew no amount of flirting and flashing of his dimpled smile was going to make her fold.

His head dipped down for a kiss, but Lena moved her head to avoid his tempting lips.

He couldn't help but laugh. He'd never had someone reject his kiss before.

Lena smiled at him and took his face in her hands. "You should head home now and get some rest. It's starting to get late. Annie and your brother might be trying to figure out why you're not home yet." Her fingers played in his beard before placing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight Stack."

"Can I see you tomorrow?" He asked. Borderline begged.

"I've got a pretty busy schedule tomorrow."

"I don't have to do nothin. I can just sit around and wait until you finished. I just want to see you."

She tried to hide her smile, but failed. "I'll be wrapping my day up around 4."

He flashed his grin. "See you tomorrow at 3:30. Goodnight Ms. Lena." He tilted his hat before placing it back on his head and walking out the door.

"Nigga you said you went to Chow's bout 7 hours ago." Smoke pointed out as he finished his second plate. He got up and brought it to the sink to wash and dry.

"Damn. Was I gone that long? My bad." Stack removed his jacket and took a seat. "Where's Annie?"

"Freshin' up for bed." Smoke looked at his brother's hand. "Hell happened to you? You ain't get yo ass in no shit you can't fix, right?"

Stack had a smile on his face.

Annie walks in with her robe on comfortable and ready for bed. "Oh lawd. That boy happier than a tick on a dog. Which young lady did you pay a visit to today?" She handed him a glass of sweet tea and a plate from the stove.

"Thank you. I went to go visit the Chow's, but as I was leaving I got distracted. Ended up cutting my hand on my knife while I was driving and ran into a beautiful lady named Lena."

Annie stood straight up and scanned her brother in law. "What you doin around Lena? She a good girl that mind her business."

"If she a good girl then he ain't want nothin to do with her. Unless you sweet talked her out of her skirt like usual." Smoke assumed.

"Naw, she don't play that. She focused. Sweet girl with a lot of hobbies." Annie looked at his hand. "She stitched you up?"

Stack nodded with a smile. "Fixed me a sandwich and some tea too. We ain't do nothin but talk. That's all I wanted to do. She real nice and a little feisty. Think she'd be interested?"

Smoke scoffed, but Annie nudged his shoulder.

"Your mission to just sleep with her?" Annie asked. She took a plate of pie from Elijah and thanked him with a kiss.

Stack shook his head as he enjoyed his food. "I ain't want that once I started talkin' to her. Ion know how to explain it, but I just liked bein' 'round her. She got a good spirit I guess." He shrugged as he filled his mouth with food.

Elijah fed Annie a bit of the shared dessert. He circled the fork around in the air before asking his question. "What she look like? Must not be your type if you didn't want to have sex."

"She not my usual type, but she real pretty. Brown skin, full hair, round lips, hips, a little healthier than my usual, but that really don't bother me none. She fit it so well." He whistled. "Voice is like butter. She smell good too and got the softest pair of hands"

Annie chuckled. "That girl don't play about her perfumes and butters." She confirmed. "When you gon' see her again?"

"Tomorrow at 3:30. Said she should be done with everything around then."

"What y'all plan on doin?" Smoke asked as his brother got up for a second helping.

"Nothin." He said happily with a shrug. "I'm just goin to talk. Might see if she'll let me fix a few things around the house or somethin?"

Annie chuckled at her brother in law. He was bit by the love bug. It was no surprise though. Lena was a warm and welcoming spirit who minded her business and helped others along her way. She didn't want much just a simple and happy life. Her love hit hard so if Stack wasn't on his best behavior she would have no problem leaving him with a broken heart. Annie knew of her ex that didn't do right by her and she got rid of him. That man been in a miserable marriage with a woman he don't really want. Hadn't truly found love since she left him.

"Just be careful. She might be a good girl, but she ain't no pushover. If you screw up she'll send you on your marry way and not think twice about it." Annie confessed.

"Imma be on my best behavior." He kissed his sister in law's cheek and sat down to finish his food.

"Stack you don't have to fix that it's fine." She advised as he unscrewed the bolts in the fan. It worked the blades just happened to have one speed and that speed was slow. It was too hot and moving too slow for Stack's liking.

"Naw. It's fine. I can fix this. The motor ain't blown just probably got a little dust in the shaft that's all."

Lena sat next to him on the couch and watched as he struggled with one of the screws. She covered her giggle with her hand causing him to lose his focus and look over at her.

"This funny to you?" He put the fan down and turned to tickle her side now causing Lena to double over in laughter.

"You sweatin' on me!" She laughed as she grabbed his arms to leave some distance between them.

He sat up and sighed. "Baby, it's hot in here! I'm tryna fix this fan and you laughin'. I'm strong it's just stuck!" He said in his defense.

Lena gave a sarcastic nod. "Very strong. Need help with that last screw?"

"I'll screw you!" He mimicked under his breath.

He was just joking seeing how he was playing off of her words, but she was turned on by that. She shook it off and just cleared her throat.

He took his button up off leaving him in a tank top and a leather vest holster. His gun was strapped in and his knife at his side. Lena's eyes wondered towards him as his arms flexed once he finally got the screw loose after a few twists and turns.

"Ha!" He turned to her and noticed her direct her eyes from his arms to his face. He smirked and looked her in her eyes. "I got it out."

"I see." She replied softly. Lena moved closer to him on the couch closing in the space between them. "So what's the next step?" She asked looking up at him with those big brown eyes of hers.

Stack cleared his throat. "I umm" he looked away. "I'm just gonna clear this shaft off and put it back in." His eyes widened and his head snapped back towards her. "Back on! I meant back on!" He corrected.

Lena couldn't help but giggle at him being nervous.

He put his focus back on the task at hand and did just that while she got up to grab something to drink. The wind blew through the window causing her dress to fly up a little catching Stack's attention. "Shit." He said to himself.

"You say somethin'?" Lena asked as she headed back over to him. Hips swaying side to side and a soft smile on her face.

He shook his head. "Nothin' just that I fixed it." He put the last screw in and turned it on.

"Awww yes!" Lena cheered on as she sat down next to him. The fan was blowing faster and stronger. "Ugh that feels so good. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Told you I'm good with my hands." He grinned.

"I see." Lena playfully teased. "I know you introduced yourself to me as Stack, but what is your real name?" She asked as she leaned her elbows on her lap to look up at him.

He smiled at her beauty. "Born Elias raised as Stack."

"Elias." His name sung beautifully on her tongue. Very southern, sweet, thick, and sexy. He wouldn't get tired of it.

His eyes scanned her plump lips. He swallowed hard and adverted his eyes to his glass of tea. "Yes ma'am."

"Did you want dinner or is Annie making something for y'all back home? I don't wanna ruin ya appetite. Mrs. Annie a good cook."

"Great cook. She's making pork chops, but I can still eat here if you had planned on cooking. I don't turn no plates down." He laughed.

"I'm just making a salad with salmon croquettes for dinner. Ain't nothin too fancy."

"You say croquettes? They're one of my favorites. I can make room for both."

Weeks had gone by and Elias had been over her house almost everyday. Showing up in the morning and leaving late at night. Smoke would either pick and drop him off or he'd take the car himself. It didn't really matter how he got to her Stack was going to see her either way. Time was spent doing things Stack was never used to doing before. She enjoyed his company and same for him. He'd drive her into town even if she insisted on walking or taking her bike. They even went on a picnic by the lake a few times. Unfortunately the two of them couldn't hang out the following Saturday because she had to finish a new set of dresses for Lisa and Grace, but Lena had planned to see him the Sunday after bright and early.

"Lisa it fits? How bout you Grace?" Lena asked as she sat at their shop past closing. The two ladies came out from the back room and spun around. Smiles were shared by each lady because of how everything turned out. Lisa had a beautiful pink and gold embroidered dress that came past her ankles and Grace had a beautiful blue and gold dress that stopped a little under her knee.

"They're perfect as usual, Lena. Eight for her and ten for me, right?" She clarified as she handed Lena cash plus a small tip.

"Y'all gonna be the talk of the town. The colors fit y'all so well too." The proud craftswomen said in awe. "Lisa how you wearing your hair?" She asked. Grace always wore a low and tucked bun for formal outings, but because Lisa was younger Grace liked to do something a little more age appropriate and fun for her.

The little girl walked over to her to describe what style she and her mother were thinking about. Lena remembered that she had a few ribbons in her bag and pulled one out that matched. "How about a bow?"

Lisa's face lit up and Grace smiled. "Mama look!"

"You tell Miss. Lena thank you. She's gotta head home. You want Bo to give you a ride? He won't mind." Grace asked as she hugged Lisa tightly.

"I'm good. Thank y'all tho. It ain't a far walk. Y'all have a good night tho."

"You sure?" Grace asked again as Lena headed towards the door.

"I'm good Grace. Y'all have a good night!"

Lena walked home in the dark but she had protection on her. Her goal was never to walk home so late, however she got to Grace's later than anticipated. A little bit of the sun was still up before she left the shop so she thought it was fine however the sun set faster than Lena could walk. Purse at her side and shoes hitting the dirt road Lena heard some people talking off into the distance, but less than a minute later a male voice approach her.

"P-pardon ma'am. Where you headed looking so good this time of night?" He said a little too drunk and a little too close.

"I'm headed home thank you. Seems like your company needs you back over there, no?" She quipped as she tried to keep calm.

He threw a lazy arm towards his company. "They be alright. I'm tryna come home with you pretty lady." He stumbled backwards. "Why you diggin in that bag?" He asked stumbling again.

"Just tryna find my lipstick that all." Lena pulled out some protection powder and blew it at him causing him to scream out and fall to the ground.

She continued to walk home, but this time at a faster pace. She had to remember to tell Annie thank you for her protection powder and get some more from her because thinking about how much she blew out she definitely used more than needed. It wasn't her fault though. She panicked plus she never had to use it before, but she was glad she carried it with her.

Not even two minutes later she heard a car pulling up by her. She prayed it was Elias.

"Lena, come on and get in." Annie instructed as she sat in the passenger seat.

"Annie what are you doin on my side of town?" She asked. She looked in the driver's seat slightly startled. She saw a man looking exactly like Stack driving except he wore blue and wasn't talking.

"We had stopped by the Chow's to drop something off and Grace said you had walked home. Ion know why you insist on walking by yourself. You know people crazy."

"I had your powder on me. Wasn't nobody gon hurt me." Her smile was big and bright. Proud.

Annie chuckled. "You a stubborn girl."

Smoke pulled up to her house and stopped. He turned towards Lena and greeted her with a nod. "My brother Stack had some business to handle. He'll be up here in no time to stay with you overnight. Just for safety purposes."

"And don't say you don't need it. I blessed your house, but we can't be too safe."

"I understand."

Turning around by a sound behind her Lena saw Stack jogging in the distance. She hopped out of the car and examined his clothes from afar. His jacket in hand and shirt untucked. She was sure he had done some damage to the guy that approached her. Lena wasn't sure what he did or how bad he handled him, but she was turned on by his disheveled look.

She walked over to Stack and took his face in her hands. She scanned his face and ran her hands down his arm to find any sign of harm.

"I'm okay. That nigga ain't, but he's no longer my problem. Let's head inside." He turned towards his brother and Annie and waved them off. "I'll see y'all tomorrow round noon."

"Thank you again. Bye Annie."

"I'll bring more protection by tomorrow." She waved as Smoke drove off.

The two of them headed up the stairs with his arm around her waist. As soon as they walked in he shut and locked the door and dropped the curtains down. He sat down at the kitchen table as she headed to grab a cold wet rag. Lena kneeled down in front of him, in between his legs, and gently pressed the rag against his skin. "Did he get you?" She asked as she sat back.

He shook his head. "He didn't get a hit in. Come here."

She rarely ever hear him speak like this. Her eyes soften at his tone. Lena sat on his lap as he wrapped his arms around her thick waist. His head rested on her chest and he just took in her heartbeat.

Sounds of crickets, her blowing fan, and the howling dogs were silenced by the matching heartbeats shared between the two of them. A rhythm Stack had loved and gotten used to since being around her. He never stuck around someone long enough to notice if his heartbeat matched there's. He was grateful for experiencing a first with her. It may not mean much to her or anyone else, but to him it felt real. Felt normal. It felt like home.

Lena could tell his mind was racing and he was trying to calm his nerves. She allowed her hand to gently caress his neck. "You wanna get ready for bed?" She asked.

Her eyes scanned his face.

"Yeah." He lifted her up with ease.

"I'm not trying to hurt you."

"You ain't hurtin me, baby." He replied as he headed to the bedroom. Stack gently laid her down before taking his gun off, removing his knife and holster. He placed it at the nightstand next to the bed as he kicked his shoes off.

Without breaking eye contact Lena removed her dress revealing a short lilac colored slip.

Stack removed his shirt and pants leaving him in his boxers.

Lena bit her lip at his muscular frame.

Stack couldn't help but chuckle.

"Why you laughin' at me?" She asked. She made her way to him on all fours to sit in front of him on the bed. Her head tilted to the side as she looked up at him waiting for an answer.

"Cause you're cute. You also try to play innocent, but I catch you lookin' at me. Bitin' your lip and everything."

Lena couldn't help but laugh at him trying to imitate her. She gently nudged him as he laughed.

"I'm just sayin. Hey, I don't mind."

"I'm looking because I like what I see." She confessed.

"I'm surprised you ain't said nothin about me. I'm always looking." He laughed.

"I don't mind." She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him and his brown eyes. "Imma kiss you now, okay?"

"You don't ever have to ask." He whispered seconds before he greeted his lips with her plump set. He moaned at the touch of her lips and the taste of her tongue. Stack lifted Lena up making sure his hands were secured under her ass.

She moaned in his mouth as he gave her a firm yet gentle squeeze.

His lips moved to her neck as he took a seat on the bed. His grip not loosening up as he sat down with her body on top of his. The weight of her on top of him was something he could definitely get used to.

Lena's fingers gently played at his nape as soft moans escaped her lips which caused his breathing to speedup.

He pulled back from her soft skin. Not because he wanted to, but because she was doing everything right. Her gentle caresses and fingernails always made his heart skip a beat and his goosebumps raise. He rested his forehead against hers and took in the gentle gestures. Lena hummed a soft tune as they took in each other's presence.

"Am I getting too heavy?" She asked. This was the first time she was in his lap for this long and wasn't sure if he was comfortable.

"Naw. You just right."

Not wanting to let the softness of her body go just yet Stack stood to his feet with her in hand and pulled the ceiling fan chord to turn the light off. He gently laid her down and settled his body down next to her.

Lena turned towards his body and nuzzled up next to him. "Thank you again Elias. You didn't have to beat that creep up just for me. I was able to hold my own."

He released a sleepy chuckle. "If I didn't he'd think it was okay to try that shit again." Elias hand rubbed up and down her now exposed hip as she stroked his beard. "I don't play about my girl." He poked one eye open to see her reaction.

Lena sat up on her elbow and looked down at him. "Your girl?" She asked gently.

"I've been meaning to make it official. Lena if you don't mind having me will you be my girl? My partner? My person?" His nerves getting the best of him now causing him to ramble. "I don't usually do this. I've actually never done this so I'm not sure if I'm,"

She stopped him with a kiss. Tasting his tongue yet again was becoming a favorite of hers. His hands gripping her ass as Lena's hands gently ran down his stomach. Stopping at his waistband. She pulled away to catch her breath. Her breast rose as she caught her breath. Her brown eyes scanned his face with a smile. "My answer is yes."

"Yes?" He grinned ear to ear. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips again before pulling back to look at her. He had never done this before. He wanted to put his best foot forward. Be on his best behavior. He wanted to build his own world with her the way his twin brother built his with Annie.

Stack took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Baby I'm tryna to be good right now and your hand is umm,"

Realization kicked in and she lifted her hand from the band of his boxers with a giggle. "Awww I'm sorry!" She cooed. "I appreciate you being patient with me, but baby we don't have to be innocent everyday." She confessed with peppered kisses in between.

"Wait now don't tempt me!" He threw his body over hers and immediately rammed his face in between Lena's neck causing her laugh to fill up the room.

"You think that boy was on his best behavior last night?" Smoke asked Annie as he watched her get dressed.

Annie chuckled. "He ain't walk home last night so I think he did alright." Annie turned to her husband and tilted her head to the side with a smile. "What's wrong, Elijah? Why you so worried about your brother and Lena, hmm?" She asked as she stood in front of him. Her hands gently laid on his firm shoulders as she awaited his answer.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and shook his head. "I just worry about him gettin' in trouble. Messin' with his future. I'm scared he ain't gon find love and he just gone be by himself forever. I can't be with him every step of the way. I want him to find his other half."

"Elijah you already know everyone has a different walk of life. His ain't gone be the same as yours or mine. Lena might be who he needs in his life. He's hardly here with us anymore and I'm sure he would've bragged about getting himself some from her, but he hasn't. She got him baking cookies from scratch, goin' on picnics, readin' books by the lake. She's good for him and I think he knows that. You gotta trust your brother to find his way his own way." She kissed her husband's lips and rubbed his arms. "Come on let's head over and pick him up. That was his first time staying over so he probably don't wanna come home tonight." She teased.

Lena was taking a nice bath and reading her book when Elias asked to join her. He sat across from her on the floor and took her book and began reading it to her letting her get lost in the fairytale. She had raised her leg and enjoyed the bubbles that sat on top of the warm water cover her leg only to slowly pop with the warm winds blowing through her windows.

Elias put her book down and watched as her thick thigh lifted up and he had every thought imaginable run through his mind. Her eyes focused deadset on him as her smooth brown skin was exposed with every gust of wind. He was doing a damn good job the last few months, but temptation was getting to him every second of the day.

He stood closer to Lena and placed his hands on both sides of her on the porcelain tub. "Keep teasing me with that leg and imma jump in here with you."

She smiled at his threat and was hoping he made it a promise. "What's stopping you?"

He took his shirt off and stepped in one foot at a time with his pants on.

"Elias!" Lena screamed with laughter as he got in halfway dressed just to join her.

Stack hovered over her completely wet and just smiled. He looked her in the eyes and leaned in for a soft kiss. Nothing too long or harsh. Just soft enough to make her heart flutter and lips want more. "You probably the best thing to ever happen to me, ya know? I ain't been this happy in a while and I want to thank you." He confessed.

She gently took his face in her hands and saw the honesty in his eyes. She wasn't looking for a partner or a man. She just so happened to go with her gut with him and she was happy she did. He had brought nothing but peace and happiness into her already peaceful and happy life. He wasn't trying to change it or her just enhance it and he did that times ten. She was forever grateful for him.

"I'm so glad I got in your car to stitch you up two months ago." She confessed with a smile.

"You and that smile healed me up that day."

Lena's eyes started tearing up.

"That ass kept me around though."

She couldn't help but fall into a fit of laughter. Leave it to Elias to make her capture so many emotions all at once. "I can't with you."

He shrugged and kissed her nose. He stood to his feet, leaned over to grab the towel and helped her up. He wrapped her up in a towel and helped her out of the tub.

As they were drying off she got a knock at her door. Elias gently guided her behind him as they headed towards her door. "Who is it?"

"It's Jim Crow nigga open up."

"Elijah!" Annie shouted as she tugged his arm.

Stack opened the door and Lena welcomed them in.

The look of confusion read on Smoke and Annie's face as they saw a wet Stack and a towel clad Lena.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to make myself presentable. Elias see if they want some of that pound cake." She said before disappearing into her room.

"Y'all want some? I helped her bake it the other day."

"It's edible?" Smoke asked as he received a plate from his brother.

"Elijah be nice in other folks home." Annie scolded.

"Why would I offer you somethin' that ain't edible, fool? My baby helped me make it." He said with pride.

Lena walked out and handed Elias a pair of slacks that she made for him a while back. He thanked her with a kiss before heading to the bathroom to change. Lena sat on her couch and smiled. "Thank y'all again for last night. I do appreciate it. Elias helped make that pound cake. He was so proud of himself once it slipped right on out the pan." She confessed with a giggle.

"It's good. Elias should be proud of himself." Annie confessed.

"My brother ain't been crossing the line with you has he? He been respectful?" Elijah asked as he put his empty plate down.

"Oh yes, sir. Always respectful with me. He's always so thoughtful, too. Very kind and a great listener. He lets me ramble on and on about nothing sometimes just so he can hear my voice." She nervously giggled.

Smoke gave her a content nod.

Annie smiled. She pulled a bag out of her pouch and handed it to Lena. "Here's some more protection powder and a mojo bag. Keep this on you at all times. You don't gotta wear it around your neck everyday just keep it on you any way you can, okay?"

"My baby made me and my crazy brother one. We was skeptical about it at first, but it's proven many of times to keep us out harms way. I suggest you keep it close to you when you heading to the market by yourself." Smoke informed.

Annie shared a proud smile at him and took his hand in hers. He gave her a gentle squeeze in return. He wasn't always a believer, but time proved itself over and over again that what she was doing was the truth. The proof was in the pudding. Ain't no way around it.

"Elias you plan on heading back home with us now? We ain't trying to take up her whole Sunday." Smoke asked.

"Oh I don't mind. If y'all want we can have a little cookout today? Elias and I went to the market a few days ago so I have plenty of food to share and cook. I can make a fresh batch of tea, too. Mr. Willie up the street brought me some extra vegetables from his garden. If I don't use it up it'll go to waste and I would hate to trash good vegetables."

"Yeah stay and celebrate." Stack added.

"Celebrate what?" Smoke quizzed. His eyes went back and forth between the two sitting in front of him. They were practically sitting on top of each other and their fingers were locked.

"I asked her to be my girl last night. She said yes. I know it ain't marriage yet," he clarified "but it's the first step. Hopefully she says yes to that too when I ask her in the near future."

Annie looked so proud of her brother in law. He seemed like an enhanced man. Not necessarily change because he was always gonna be Stack, but it seemed like Lena made him want to be a better man. She prayed it all worked out for them because he deserved that happiness that he was always searching for.

Smoke's features softened at his brother's new found happiness. He always wondered if he'd ever find someone and although he only knew about Lena from Annie and Stack she seemed like the best person for him. His brother always spoke so highly of her. He was never vulgar when it came to her or crude. Always respectful and that's all he could ask for.

"Well my schedule is free, baby?" Smoke asked as he looked at Annie.

She smiled and gave her a nod. "Sounds good to me. Thank you and congratulations. I'm proud of you Elias."

Stack smiled wide as he gripped Lena's hand.

"Alright I'll start getting some water boiling. Excuse me." She stood to her feet, gave Elias a kiss, and headed into the kitchen to start cooking.

Annie got up to help leaving the brothers to talk amongst themselves.

"I'm proud of you. Seems like you got yourself a good one."

"Yeah. She real sweet. Got a heart of gold."

Stack continued to tell Smoke all about his plans. He was going to get a car and probably move in with her before getting married. He wasn't in a rush, he wasn't going anywhere and neither was she, but he wanted to make sure everything was set up to give her a perfect life that she deserved.

Stack watched as his girl and his sister in law laughed together about whatever conversation they were having. This was the life he wanted to live. He was glad that he stopped when he did that warm spring day.

[sanguinesky-if]

Sanguine Sky: Chapter 3 Pt. 2 is OUT [Patreon Update]

Important note: The current update temporarily does not include R's and T's scenes [these scenes will be added within the month. Read more below].

Hello. I apologize for the delay and the lack of promised communication. This past month has been very difficult for me, and for most of it, I wasn't able to sit at my computer at all.

Still, I've decided to release what I've managed to finish so far [83k words], even though I had really hoped to release the full update all at once.

Here's the link: [Early-release DEMO]. Word count: 83k words [excl. code] | 92k words [incl. code].

You can find the attached sneak peeks at the end of the post.

What the current update [Chapter 3 Pt. 2] includes:

A return from the crime scene to the department [main story evening scene].

Evening scenes for the ROs [K, L, M, I, S].

Important notes:

S's scene includes a sex scene, but currently, only the "fade to black" option is available [it's tone down, but still remains detailed up to a certain point]. More explicit options for the scene will be added next Friday instead of the usual "Progress Update".

The option to view the code is turned off and will remain disabled until the update goes public.

What remains unfinished and will be added:

R's scene [I was unhappy with the rewritten version and don't want to include it until I feel more confident about it].

T's scene [not finished].

S's scene [an additional branch for the sex scene for virgin MC].

The content listed above will be added within the month, as I expect to also need time to fix bugs and address error reports from readers.

Sneak Peeks.

Author's Note.

I'd also like to thank the beta readers who sent back massive error reports, which I still need to go through. If you find any error and will send it using an error report, please know that I will be grateful for your help as well.

Thank you for your suppport! I hope you'll still enjoy the update!

[punks-never-die205]

By the Horns

Hybrid Bull AU

Thanks to @don-mellow and the FANTASTIC Bullstass art that inspired @hannahbarberra162 -> and then me -> to write some Hybrid Bull AU content.

Seriously check out those two as soon as you can. I am incredibly lucky to have talented people in my orbit like this. It literally feeds me.

Personal Note: I do have a LOT of Kid WiPs. I have not forgotten them, I have not abandoned them. I haven't had the drive to write Kid in MONTHS. So rejoice with me.

CW: Hurt, sex, revenge, murder, abuse, dark themes, estrus, tensions between humans and hybrids, so much sex, so much - and in an unexpected twist: consensual drugging, 18+ only.

Tag List: @keiva1000, @mfreedomstuff, @likeeliterallywtf, @usopp-enjoyer

Chapter 1: Tail End

You ran. 

And ran.

Everything ached, but everything had hurt before you started running, and you only knew that you couldn’t stop. It was night time, probably sometime around 2 or 3 in the morning, still hours before the sun would rise.

Your breath billowed out in front of you like fog, and the tattered remnants of your clothing billowed out behind you like bits of sail. Bruises, dried blood, and dirt covered your skin in the places that the meager clothing didn’t cover, and honestly the bruises and scrapes were beneath the cloth too.

If you stopped running your farmer would find you, and he’d kill you.

You knew it as sure as you knew anything. Maybe it was the part of your mind that was an animal, an instinct that made you move even when all manner of conscious rebellion had been bred and beat out of you years ago. A strange desire to live, despite not even being sure you really deserved such a privilege.

Lights on the horizon, the edge of a farm, not the sky, catch your attention and you run toward them. If you’re around other people the farmer won’t kill you. At least not right away, and if you can get help before he shows up, then maybe he won’t be able to do so at all.

As you neared the source of the light something made your legs wobble. Relief, or exhaustion, or both. Someone steps out from the light into the dark, a bull you think, from his height and the horns, he wasn’t a farmer. Details about him flit into your mind and leave just as quickly, but you’re at least sure enough that he’s a bull that you continue moving toward him.

Bulls never hurt you, so maybe he could-.

“-help,” you gasp, your hoarse voice barely a sound above the breath that escaped you. It was enough for him to turn and look at you, eyes going wide in surprise. “Me.” 

The next step you took was all you had left, but you didn’t hit the dirt. You collapsed into a large, warm arm, that supported you entirely. You could see the dirt, and you think you managed to say some manner of thanks, but fear, exhaustion, and pain, took you into the darkness and you passed out.

Looking down at the form that’s collapsed onto his arm, Kid looks out to the fields and the horizon for any signs of lights or pursuers. It wasn’t every day a mostly naked woman ran onto the backside of the ranch like this, and given the state of you, you’d been running for a long time.

After a moment he figured it was safe to assume you’d made a clean escape, where ever you had been escaping from, and adjusted you in his arm enough to stand up and walk back to the ranch. He’d just finished fucking a few of his heifers and, as usual, had energy to spare. Shutting off lights as he walked by he checked into the pens of his stock as he took you back to the main house, checking every now and then that you were still breathing.

Everyone else was down for sleep, or close enough to it, and so he detoured to the small clinic. House, one of the few non-hybrids on the farm, was put up there. She’d been the ranch doctor before he and the others took over, and she’d stayed on as doc afterward. Anything House couldn’t handle meant either a trip to the city for the hospital, or a call to the creepy emo fuck who had some of the most effective weirdo voodoo shit going on.

Walking into the clinic, Kid starts turning on lights, working his way through as quietly as he can. House would fuck him up six ways to Sunday if he made a mess, and if she was asleep he wanted to leave her that way.

Or so he initially thought.

Setting his little intruder on the exam table, under the harsh lights of the room, Kid had a better idea of how hurt you were.

“You might need the hospital.” He says softly, looking you over. Layers of bruises, but the more he looks the more he’s unsure where the dirt stops and the bruising starts. There’s dried blood, caked in places, and fresh trickles from wounds you reopened from running. “Fuckin’ hells.”

Growling Kid steps out of the room, turning on the water in the bathroom and pulling down washrags and towels. Just as he’s getting ready to knock on House’s bedroom door it opens. She doesn’t look angry, just tired.

“Help me, doc.” He commands, pointing into the bathroom. “I’ll bring ‘er in.”

House moves into the bathroom without question, but her eyes go wide when he brings you in.

“Gods,” she breathes, kicking off her slippers and climbing into the tub before he even starts to set you into the warm water. “Who is she? Ain’t one of ours.” 

“Ran up to me when I came out the back pens.” He explains, ripping the useless remnants of your ruined clothes off easily and tossing them aside. 

“Anything broke?”

“Nothing I could feel or see.” Kid answers.

“Eh. We’ll get her cleaned up and I can examine her. Human huh?” She asks.

“Think so. If she’s a hybrid, she doesn’t have a tail, or anything else.” He explains, helping House by keeping you stable with his arm, handing her clean rags and more soap as she cleans you up.

“She’s not nearly as dirty as I was hoping she was.” House says professionally. “This bruising is terrible. Layered too. She’s been beat pretty fierce for a long time. These scrapes and the blood are from it too. Bare hands, not that it makes it better, but it doesn’t look like he used a bat or anything.”

She takes care to check the worst of the bruises for fractures before cleaning them. Your breathing is steady, and you are effectively fast asleep. Poor thing must’ve ran until you were beyond exhausted, and your body was forcing you to rest.

Made it easier to get you cleaned up and checked at least.

“Fuckin’ pig.” Kid growls, helping House turn you on your side.

“Yeah, he-.” House freezes, eyes wide. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong doc?”

“Kid.” She looks up at him, and the look on her face already had his temper flaring. “You have to stay calm, Kid.” 

“Tryin’.” He snarls.

“Try harder.” House instructs forcefully. “You have to put her back on the exam table for me.” She orders, one hand on the girl, one hand on Kid’s arm. “You hearing me?”

“Yeah.”

“Put her on the exam table.”

“Yeah.”

Kid finally starts moving, and House moves with him. The water in the hall is a small price to pay, and so House doesn’t say anything about it.

Hybrids aren’t all that different from humans. Unlike actual cows, they’re smart, adaptable, and as far as Kid and his friends were concerned, perfectly capable of ruling the world. Aside from a few differences like horns on bulls, tails, bovine ears, and body hair that could get a little thick like fur down the back, stomach and shoulders, they could look human.

Tails were about the only consistent indicator of a hybrid, the rest could come and go, and a good many hybrids only had tails. Everything else was human. It didn’t make ‘em human, and it didn’t make them less of a hybrid, it was just how genetics worked. On the other side of that, one of Kid’s bulls had bovine legs, which was the other end of the extremes.

If you had any fur the abuse might’ve caused it to fall out, patches of your hair had rinsed out in the bath, but House hadn’t gotten around to washing it properly before she had Kid put you back on the exam table. Fur usually matched hair color, but right now he couldn’t even be sure the hair color was correct.

He already knew, though, what House had noticed, even as he laid you back in the room. It took everything he had to keep from going mad with rage, but if he lost his cool he’d break the clinic and risk you and House.

“Go get Killer.” House commands.

“House-.”

“Get the fuck out of my clinic, Eustass Kid, before you lose your calm, and send in Killer. Forewarn him and send him in.” She commands. The only time House has, or uses, any authority is in times of medical need. She doesn’t stop anyone from doing what they do, she just patches people up afterward, and sometimes she’s patching people up she beat the shit out of if they fought in her clinic.

“And if you find who did this, I want to talk to them!” She shouts out after him.

Kid hears her, even over the rage pounding in his ears. He hears her and in a way it helps him calm down. Kid was big and harsh, a great weight that beat into the world around him until it gave way to what he wanted. There was finesse in a sense, but he was by the old adage, a bull in a shop of fine wares, and Kid didn’t give a shit about things that weren’t his.

You might not be, technically, his, but you were on his land and you’d asked for his help. His first compulsion was to find the person who abused you like that and break them in half. 

Simple. Effective. Elegant in its own way.

But too gods-forsaken-quick.

House, rough around the edges as she was, was a doctor. A needle that slipped between the seams, and exacting presence comparatively. House would fix the bones he’d break, and make it hurt worse the entire time, inflicting at least half as much pain as your abuser probably deserved.

Now the trick was going to be keeping the fucker alive in the first place. Once Kid figured out who it was, he was going to have to keep his own red-laced rage in check enough to bring House anything more than a corpse.

Fucker cut off your tail.

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - 15

Order of Affairs

Mob Boss Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/faking death, mentions of depression, cursing, smut

A/n: Thank you all so much for reading! And for commenting and reblogging and sending asks. I absolutely adore chatting about this story with y’all and I’m so happy you care enough to want to discuss. Enjoy this chapter and new phase of our Mob babies!

Previous Chapter

____________________________________________

The kitchen buzzes with the unintelligible hum of the men in the other room, all of them gathered for the early morning meeting session Nico called a few days ago after your visit to the cemetery. Later than he would’ve preferred but things needed to be planned out, Timo needed to return home before he could make any big moves.

Jack’s overly excited voice rises above the others, flowing into the kitchen and you can’t help but smile to yourself. When Luke first told you that they always called Jack by the name of Rowdy growing up, you didn’t even have to question it. Bright and early on a Wednesday morning and he sounds like he’s at Disneyland.

“Black coffee? That’s not a good sign.”

You gasp at the familiar voice, abandoning Nico’s plain, bitter coffee on the counter in favor of whirling around. Timo is standing there, having just coming in through the garage door and even though it was only two weeks without him he looks different. Fuller maybe, happier for sure.

“You’re home!” You screech, and he laughs as Moose comes barreling in at the noise. Racing the dog across the kitchen, you wrap your arms around Timo and he does the same, squeezing you tightly. Moose sniffs at his pants and shoes.

“Worst trip of my life,” he says, jokingly. “2 weeks without you? Never again.”

Of course it wasn’t the worst trip of his life. He’s practically glowing from the inside out but the sentiment warms your heart anyway.

“Ugh I missed you so much.” You say, pulling back from him. He ruffles your hair, shoving you back towards the island so you can finish making your morning tea and add sugar to Nico’s coffee. Even though he told you not to.

He leans against the counter, turning up his nose at Nico’s mug. “He’s so stressed he’s abandoned creamer again?”

It’s a known thing between you two that when Nico has a lot going on, when he’s been dealing with something as stressful as the situation with your family, he gets laser focus. Focus that will apparently be hindered by any kind of sugar in his morning caffeine. You think he’s a little dramatic though and you hate kissing him after he’s had black coffee, the bitterness lingering on his breath, so you sneak in some sugar anyway.

“I don’t even know if he’s stressed,” you admit, “it’s more like he’s just so angry that this is all he cares about.”

Timo gives you a knowing look, “you mean you’re all he cares about.” Shrugging, you don’t verbally confirm his statement but the pleased smile you can’t contain says enough. Nico’s lost you too many times before and he’s not about to let it happen again at the hands of another family member.

“Seriously though,” he continues, playfulness gone as you mix in sugar cubes to your own cup of tea. “I mean this was a lot. Even if you’re going to downplay it for his sake or whatever. Your parents are fucked for what they did and I’m sure whatever Nico is doing is justified.”

Dropping a couple cubes into Nico’s cup, you shrug. “I know it’s justified. I’m the one that approved it all.” The kitchen goes still, your gaze locked on where you’re stirring the sugar around the mug. The only sound is the drag of the spoon and the chatter of the boys in the other room.

Timo ducks his head down, catching your gaze with a giddy smirk. “You approved it all? Really?”

“Well don’t be so surprised,” you scoff, “I beat you and Nico in Switzerland didn’t I? Besides, he promised me then that I get to have a say in getting back at people who hurt me so.”

Timo snickers, totally pleased and when you meet his gaze with a shy grin he’s beaming so wide his smile looks like it’s about to fall off the sides of his face.

“Thank god,” he laughs, “I was thinking I’d come home and you’d be going rouge again. Hopefully taking me with you this time.”

You roll your eyes. “I could never go completely rouge on Nico, you know that.” He gives you an imploring look and you sigh. “Of course I’d invite you this time Timo.”

He reaches across the island to ruffle your hair. “I’d go with this time, just for the record.”

“I think Nico would too,” you laugh, “but tell me about Switzerland! How was Amelia? Is she going to come visit?”

Timo doesn’t get the chance to respond. Nico is in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he nods back towards the dining room. “He can tell you later. Meeting is starting.”

You both stand up straighter at his tone, shifting from playful to all business. Timo purses his lips, motioning for you to go first and you do, Nico’s coffee in hand while yours sits on the counter to cool. You hand it to him as you pass, pressing a kiss to the harsh line of his clenched jaw in hopes that it eases him a little bit. His features don’t relax, but he pats at your side appreciatively. Him and Timo share a brief hug in greeting, the three of you lining up at the end of the table packed full of every Devils mob member.

Nico takes a sip of his coffee, setting it on the table top and the room falls quiet, Jack and Luke waving at you from their seats just to the left of Nico. You smile, wiggling your fingers back at them as Nico clears his throat.

“I know this is a different look to our usual meetings,” he begins, hands on his hips. “And I know you all know what that means.”

The hush that has taken over the room feels heavy, strained by Nico’s confirmation that this isn’t just a regular weekly meeting. It was obvious from the nervous chatter earlier that they did in fact know something was up. Nico has never moved a meeting to a private location. That’s only done when there’s a shift from the normal practices and laws of the Devils. When Nico first explained to you how their meetings work, he’d briefly mentioned his ability to move meeting locations. He’d only ever do it when he needed something to stay entirely between him and the Devils. It’s used for extra protective measures that way when Nico changes rules or protocols, he can insure it stays within the group. It gives them a cushion of surprise against an enemy.

You don’t know if the boys are aware of who this enemy is today. Of course the ones that had been with you that day know, but you have no clue what Nico has told the others. Maybe he hasn’t said anything and that’s why so many of them eagerly lean forward, hanging on his every word.

“There’s going to be some changes for the time being. I don’t have a timeline on how long you’ll have to abide by them but you will follow everything I say today until I give word.”

He pauses for a moment to let it sink in, the words hanging in the air far more grave than they should be. Alex catches your eye, his eyebrows pinched together in worry and you give him a reassuring nod. Nico has to be serious for this because it is serious. He’s not trying to scare Alex or any of the boys, he just needs them to know that this is important.

“The following protocols are to be memorized and used 24/7. Meaning you’re all on shift, always. Even when you’re at home, you keep them in practice, got it?”

A chorus of agreement comes from the table. Nico eyes them all for another beat before continuing, his tone not as barking anymore. His eyes stay dark and observing through, his jaw still clenched. The knuckles of his hands are white where they’re gripping his sides.

“This first one is the most important and I want no arguing or negotiating on it,” Nico sends Alex and the Hughes boys a pointed look. “Y/n is with me at all times. If either of us have to go in for work, we go together. Other than that, we’ll be running everything out of the house here.”

Alex gives you another worried look but doesn’t attempt to argue or question Nico. You have a feeling he’s waiting though until it’s just you two and him. He’d never question his boss in front of everyone, but he will ask his guardian after they’ve all left.

“With that in place, Timo is taking over all face-to-face business with Hischier Enterprises. Everyone under that side will report to him in person and follow what he says. For matters that absolutely require y/n, you come here or do it over the phone. Unless I say so, she won’t be at the penthouse. And you’re all still in charge of wellness checks and emergency signals without her. Timo will work out a schedule with you guys.”

Timo takes a step forward, pointing a finger at the line of boys that work under you and him. At his gesture, they all sit up a little straighter.

“Merc you’re with me now. All the second hand stuff you were doing before is the same, it’s just you’re my second hand for now.”

Your best friend steps back in line with you and Nico, Mercer’s gaze falling to you questioningly. Amused, you step up now, nodding at him.

“Keep training under Timo,” you tell him, “have his back the same way you did with mine. As for the rest of you…”

The three boys wait with wide and expectant eyes, intently waiting for instruction from you. “Johnny and Alex will stick together on all assignments, and while you’re technically still under the Enterprise, you’ll be following special orders from Nico and I. You’ll report here every morning instead of the penthouse.”

Just like you thought he would, Alex relaxes back into his seat, features softening into an almost pleased smile. Luke, however, has put together that with you out of the day-to-day picture, he’s now the odd man out, and his desperate gaze reflects that.

“You’ll be back with Jack,” you tell him, “the two of you will split time between handling some things for Timo and me, and handling other tasks on Nico’s side.”

Your fiancé steps in then, a heavy hand finding your lower back as he moves to your side. Addressing Jack, he says, “You’re going to have to step up a bit, do more for Jesp and Jonas who will be covering my post, yeah?”

Jack nods, bringing his hand up to his forehead in a far too serious salute. Nico ignores him, nudging you back when you let out a giggle. Your part is done now, at least for the rest of the meeting so you stand silently next to Timo, listening intently even though you’re already aware of the new rules.

“The boys working with me,” Nico starts, crossing his arms over his chest again. “I’m upping surveillance meaning I’m also upping everyone’s shifts. You’ll also be on a buddy system. Jonas and Jesp will give you your assignments after the meeting.

“These aren’t just bar watch assignments. The whole city is to be monitored. On top of camera surveillance, you’ll have patrolling shifts with your buddy. Our target areas are Devs protected establishments, particularly ones in Jersey City.”

If any of the boys realize his intentions with the new rules, they don’t react to it. Aside for your boys, you’re not exactly sure what the others know of your past. They know you’re from here, that you lost your family for this like so many others did. But you can’t even begin to guess what they’ve all been told about your journey into Nico’s life.

Do they know about the cemetery? About the deli too? Has Nico let anyone know that you’ve been disowned and treated like trash by your parents? They probably could guess it by Nico’s new protocols. Everyone knows he would never let anyone get away with disrespecting you. He’s said before that he’d burn cities and wage wars for you. Do they know that’s what he’s doing now?

Are all of these men eager to get in the line of fire for you?

“Last but not least,” Nico runs a thoughtful hand through his hair, settling it on his hip. “I’m putting the word out. Any business with Devs horns on the window is forbidden from serving y/n’s family. Names and photos will be distributed and any form of business, in person or not, is not permitted.”

There’s an almost still reaction, like the air in the room grows solid at his words. In all his years in New Jersey, Nico has never laid out such a rule for their businesses. He never wanted to be the cruel boss, never wanted to take away from the creativity and free flow of the city that made it so great. Nico loves New Jersey, you know that, the boys know that. This shift in rules particularly says enough.

He’s drawing battle lines. He’s getting a step ahead because for the first time, Nico is preparing the Devils for the biggest defensive action they’ve ever taken. They’re not just surviving now, not just living in the fabrics of New Jersey. He is preparing for their first territory battle.

All of it at the defense of you.

It doesn’t hit you lightly.

Since joining the Devils, you knew your place in the family was different. Nico had always told you as much, Timo had warned you from the get-go. You would never just be a member. Unlike the others, you didn’t come to Nico and join out of circumstance. No, he came to you. Nico made the space for you here. More so, he made that space a place of leadership and power.

He changed the entire layout of Devils so that you ruled alongside him. Most other families simply marry the women into the group and rely on them to bring up the next generation of members.

Nico didn’t bring you into the Devs for that, to be a wife and a mother, to be a homemaker. He brought you in because he loves you, because he wants to share the family he built with you. And he wants you to keep building it by his side rather than from his shadow.

It’s a lot to take in, being loved so much. Especially coming off the low of being cut out by your family. Their only daughter, the miracle baby they never thought they’d have, and yet they let that miracle fade out. Your parents are living the lonely, childless, two-income life they used to say they feared. And it’s all at their own hand.

Knowing that they’d rather live in their worst nightmare than with you being happy hurts in a way you can’t explain. It’s the same feeling you’d imagine Luke and Jack have towards their family. Alex too, especially with the state of his departure from Sweden. At least the Hughes boys have contact with their mother.

You and Alex have nothing of the sort. Unloved, unspoken of, forgotten and abandoned by the mothers that were supposed to love you unconditionally and whole heartedly.

Nico dismisses the meeting with a final order for them all to touch base with either Jonas and Jesper, or Timo and Mercer in the case of your boys. Your best friend has only a moment to pass by you, briefly touching the bend of your elbow with a reassuring gaze as he heads to gather with the younger boys.

Lost in thought, you stare at Nico’s abandoned coffee mug on the table top until he’s touching the small of your back, fingers warm through the thin fabric of your cotton tee.

“You okay?” He asks, eyebrows creased in concern when you blink up at him, lightly shaking your head out of its stupor. Now that he’s no longer running the meeting, and a such a serious one at that, you tuck into his body, hands coming up to rest on his chest.

“Yeah,” you promise, “it’s just a lot.”

You don’t have to further explain because he already knows. It’s a lot to do for just you. Even though you looked over this plan with him and approved of it all, it still feels like too much for just you. Him putting the boys in danger like this, pulling focus away from whatever was going on over in New York.

What if he misses something significant there because he’s too focused here? Too focused on you?

“For you,” he murmurs, gravely “it’s not enough. You’ve spent years missing them, hoping that one day they’d come around just to be hurt beyond reason. With us, with me, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do to make up for that.”

Rising to your toes, you press a kiss to the scar on the corner of his lips, then another to his mouth, smiling when his hold on your waist tightens.

“I know. I’m just worried that we’re going to miss something else because we’re so busy with this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Miss something like the Rags?” At your hum of confirmation he continues. “We’re not going to miss anything. Lee is keeping an eye out and with you and me being together all the time, we’ll pay attention. There’s enough of us to deal with your family and deal with whatever Trouba is up to.”

You hadn’t thought of that before. How being home with Nico everyday will open up your schedules now. Even if the sole focus is work, you’re bound to get time with just him. Unless there’s an absolute emergency, he’s all yours.

A part of you warms at the thought. You’ve missed him lately. It feels like ever since you got back from the hot mess that was Vancouver, you only see him at night or the couple hours put aside to teach him to drive the new car. At this point though, he’s pretty much got it down and your lessons have turned into driving around the city with the windows down, having sex in the backseat, and then going for food. Not that you’re complaining but it’ll be nice to be at home with him more often.

“I don’t want to be on lockdown Nico,” you say though, thinking of Switzerland. You had this conversation then and you’re hoping to god he didn’t just forget it. “Please don’t ask me to stay in the house with 24 hour surveillance. I want to actually help and actually be a part of it.”

He smiles down at you with mirth, pretty dimples in his cheeks and eyes moony with fondness. Something else glints there too, underneath all that warmth and love, a look of pride, and you know he didn’t forget.

“You won’t be,” Nico assures, tucking your hair behind your ear. He takes your chin between two fingers, his thumb tracing over the dip of it with a touch so soft it makes your whole chest grow hot. “I’m not locking you up in a tower and leaving you here. The reason you’re going to be with me all the time is for emergencies. If something happens with the guys, I need you close so you can make a decision right away.

“You’re leading us here, baby. I’m just the messenger.”

Almost giddy, you giggle and blush like a schoolgirl at his words. It makes him chuckle too, tucking his head down to press a kiss to your forehead. Faintly, you wonder if maybe you and him are crazy. Laughing and kissing over the knowledge that together you’re both about to make your parents lives absolute hell. Maybe the mob did change you, did make you in this unrecognizable and unredeemable person.

Alex sidles up and you break back from Nico to pull him into a hug, rubbing your hand up and down his back in greeting. You didn’t really see the boys when they got here this morning, not that there was much time for chatting with them anyway. Though you wish there had been because Alex is turning to Nico before you’ve even fully let go of him.

“I want to stay with you guys,” he says firmly, to no one’s surprise. “After Switzerland and stuff she should have two of us with her. Especially since it’s personal this time and I understand Italian basically so I can translate.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Nico stares down at Alex with a raised eyebrow, as if he’s actually considering the offer. You have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at his little game. You were the one to assign Alex and Johnny to special assignments under Nico, simply because you wanted Alex with you. When Nico downright refused to leave you with just Alex, this was the compromise.

You knew Alex wouldn’t be entirely happy with it, at least not until he understands what the promotion, so to speak, actually means. Which is why you wanted to explain to him before hand. Now Nico gets to have his fun with it.

“Johnny is fluent,” Nico counters, “maybe I should keep him and send you with Timo. He’s got a lot more experience too which is safer for her.”

Even with his back to you, you can picture the way Alex’s mouth drops open in offense. His whole body bristles, hands coming out to his sides as he squawks, “what? No I want to stay! Come on Nico don’t send me with Timo. Please let me stay here.”

Nico clicks his tongue. “I don’t know…” he shrugs, looking around at the few boys still lingering and Alex keeps blocking his gaze, stepping side to side so that Nico is always looking at him.

“Okay,” you laugh, cutting in after Alex lets out a distressed huff. “Alex I assigned you and Johnny together.”

He whips around, gaze wounded and mouth open in offense. You quickly shush him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Special assignments from Nico means you’ll be with us most of the time. Unless there’s an actual location you need to be at with Johnny, the two of you will be monitoring and working with us.”

His whole body relaxes, features morphing into a happy smile and he shrugs, “Oh cool.” Like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t just get all wound up and defensive over the thought of not working with you and Nico.

“Oh cool,” Nico mocks, pinching at the back of Alex’s neck and he yelps, shoulders hunching up to try and get away from the sting. “Who do you think you are questioning us, huh?”

His tone is light hearted and teasing, easy going as him and Alex start shoving and pinching at each other.

“I’m a hyphenated Hischier,” Alex retorts, sticking his tongue out and then laughing when Nico jabs at the soft spot between his chest and arm. “I can say what I want here.”

They keep half wrestling and bickering, Alex laughing at each little poke and swipe as Nico backs him into the wall. He’s not giggling quite as much as Alex, but he’s got that smile on his face he only gets with the boys, especially Alex. The one that crinkles by the corners of his eyes, narrows them so much he’s all dark and long eyelashes, jaw clenched as he tries and fails to fight back that big of a grin.

Timo slings his arm over your shoulders, squeezing you into his side and you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Glad he’s still having fun,” Timo says, referring to Nico. “Didn’t really know how he’d be with all of this.”

You know what he means. Nico can be far too serious sometimes, shouldering things that are too heavy for just him but he never tries to share the burden. He likes being the to one to do it. To fix things, to take care of everyone, especially you. Even if it’s not good for him, he’ll wear it.

“Yeah,” you agree, “Alex is good at getting to him to take a breath and start acting his age instead of like a 50 year old man.”

Timo laughs under his breath, the two of you still watching them fight with each other. Moose has joined in now, wiggling between their legs and bullying his head into Nico’s knee or Alex’s calf.

“You think we’re ready for this?” You ask Timo, a little quieter than before.

He’s silent for a beat, contemplating. “Yeah I think so. Like I said before, Nico is ready for everything. Even when the rest of us aren’t.”

“I really missed you.” You turn into his side, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing him tight. He returns the embrace, patting at your back soothingly.

“I missed you too, a lot. We’ve got a lot to catch up on huh?”

There’s so much to talk about. Not just the rundown of what happened with your parents and everything else concerning work, but with just you two. You want to tell him how much it sucked seeing them that day. How stupid and powerless you felt. That you really wish he’d seen how well Mercer did too. And you want to know about Amelia and Switzerland, if they talked more about the future. You want to ask if he saw Luca or Katja, how they’re doing. Did they mention Nina too?

Right now isn’t the time though. Nico’s let Alex go by now, ruffling his hair before giving him room to escape into the kitchen. Which means it’s time to get work now. Starting with a visit to your gravesite.

~~~~

“This is actually insane.”

Nico scoffs out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head in disbelief and planting his hands on his hips. It’s such a far off look from the man that was horsing around with Alex this morning, laughing and full of light that you immediately reach for his arm, hooking your hand through the crook of his elbow.

“That’s one word for it,” he mutters, but he lets out a deep breath and stretches his arm out to you, lets you tuck your fingers between his.

“At least it’s going to be gone.” You offer as a comfort, and then, like he’s trying to back up your statement, the slow rumble of the crane starts up from across the way, the groundskeeper already rolling it forward and towards your plot.

“Where am I supposed to put my flowers for you?” Timo pouts, the store bought bouquet of white roses in his hand and you laugh. Nico, who doesn’t find it very funny, reaches around you to snatch them away.

“Hey,” you complain, “those are mine!” He dodges your swiping hand, tucking the gathered stems of the flowers under his other arm. The crane inches forward, the three of you backing up to give it more room. You shift in the thick leather jacket Nico insisted you wear, the fabric hot and sticky in the humid air. Between that and red bandana tied over your head, pinning down your hair that’s grown frizzy, it’s almost unbearable out here.

You’d take sweating in Nico’s jacket and hiding behind devils red any day though if it means you get to see this. It swells up inside you, bubbling in your gut the closer the claw of the crane gets. Your fingers squeeze Nico’s, the relief and excitement growing and growing as the metal teeth enclose around the top of the headstone, digging into the stone until it cracks. There’s no need to preserve this stupid rock anyway.

You almost laugh at how easily it’s lifted into the air, not even constructed to look or act like a real grave marker. Temporary. Hastily done. It makes you wonder what the point even was. Did they plan on removing it if you ever came back? Pretending nothing happened? That they never did this? Or was it made so shitty because they put no real thought into killing you off? They made the decision and just executed it off the bat.

“That’s a little lackluster,” you grumble, “It’s so small. I fake died and they couldn’t even get one that goes buried in the ground?”

Nico elbows you, gaze unimpressed under those dark eyebrows of his. You wish he could see your eyes through your black sunglasses, see that you do find this kind of funny. You jut your bottom lip out at him.

“You’d never do this to me, right baby?” At your teasing tone his lips twitch, fighting back an amused smile that just eggs you on. “Right?” You press your chin into his bicep, nudging his arm annoyingly so.

“No I wouldn’t,” he assures through a grumble, rolling his eyes fondly. “Build a fucking statue for you baby, okay?”

Smirking proudly, you rise to your toes and press a chaste kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “Yeah I know. Nico Hischier and too small have never been in the same sentence, have they?”

Both him and Timo snort, Nico’s ears turning pink at the tips and he runs his tongue along the inside of his dimpled cheek. Shaking his head in both disbelief and laughter, he hands you your flowers in favor cupping your jaw. Holding your gaze, he narrows his eyes in an all too telling way. The same one he gives you when you’re toeing the line of what’s acceptable to say to him in public. The line has a little more grace when it’s just Timo around, fortunatly for you, but you already know you’ll be making it up to him later for that one.

“We’re surrounded by dead bodies and you’re trying to get in my pants?”

You shrug, the movement a little awkward with how he’s holding your face still. Over his shoulder, the crane inches away with your headstone swaying from the hook.

“Can’t do it in front of living people, can’t do it in front of dead ones, when am I supposed to do it?”

Nico shakes his head, fingers flexing into a light pinch and then he lets you go. He blows out a puff of air, fighting to contain the smile you were searching for in the first place. You and Timo share a hushed snicker, only silencing when the rumble of the tractor returns.

This time in its claw hangs the thick chain weaved around the new headstone, a hulking black slab of marble dangling from it.

“That’s a little menacing,” Timo says, arms crossed over his chest as the new marker inches closer and closer to your newly renovated plot. Shifting to look at you, he eyes you carefully.

“Why do you think they did it? Like what was the point of the headstone?”

It’s the same question you and Nico have been pouring over everyday since you first came to the cemetery. What did they want to accomplish with that? How long had it been sitting here before you found it? Most concerning, how did they pull it off? You know how Nico got the new headstone made, how much he paid for it to be illegally placed here. With his influence though, that’s a price he can easily pay.

Your parents can’t. You have no idea how they got around the law to fake your death. It was a risky move, one that could’ve ended with them in jail. Instead they’ll face something worse. They’re staring directly at you and Nico now, two people without much of a limit on what kind of damage they can do.

All to send a message that could’ve been sent in an email if you’re being honest.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You mumble, “it was for me. They wanted me to know it was actually over.” What you did when you chose Nico was unforgivable. Even though you’d always left that door cracked for your parents, always hoped maybe things would be better again, they shut that door a long time ago. Locked it from the outside and sealed it tight with a pretty headstone on top. “They never intended to be my parents again.”

Nico reaches for you again, nose flared and eyebrows lowered thoughtfully. You step into his side, let him pull you close and comfort you in the only way he really knows how. Protecting you, loving you. Even if he looks like he’s mentally far away from you, his mind most likely sifting through everything he wants to do to your parents. He wants to kill them. You know he does.

“How’d they do it?” Timo questions, “Do we know anything yet?”

Nico’s tone is clipped when he responds. “No we don’t.” You slip your arm around his waist, pressing your hand into the tense spot between his shoulder blades and rub your palm in soothing circles. He’s frustrated, you know that. He wants to get ahead of this, needs information if he wants to get a foot up. Every time you’ve said Nico is smart, you mean it. Knowledge is power and like he told you the night you met him, he’s never just on a power trip.

“There was nothing on public record of it,” he continues, a little less angry and more exhausted sounding now. “No obituaries, no news headlines or articles, not even a certificate of death.”

On paper, all of this is impossible. If you were to look at it in black and white, there’s no way your parents would’ve been able to pull this off. And if you had any other life than a mob one, it would all seem like some sick prank or joke. Except you are a mob wife and you know there’s always more.

“That’s what Alex and Johnny are for,” you explain, motioning to the two boys that have been monitoring your corner of the cemetery. They’re not as bundled up as you but they’re in all black, weapons concealed in their waist bands and a red bandanas tied around one of their legs. “Alex is like obsessive and Johnny is good with details. We’re hoping together they can do better digging than Nico and I could.”

That and you need a distraction. If your parents are now on the lookout for you and Nico, especially after he visited their home, they’ll have their ears to ground for any sign of him. They don’t know Alex or Johnny, didn’t see either of them with you that day. If anyone can sneak around them for information, it’ll be those two.

While they’re watching you and Nico, your boys will be watching them.

Almost impressed, Timo looks you up and down, something warm in those blue eyes of his. Not the same warmth that he gives you and Nico just because you’re his best friends. It’s more like…admiration.

“You’re good at this,” he says in explanation when you give him a questioning look. “Being in charge, being a prinzessin.”

His words make your heart well, fluttering up with relief. By now, you think you’ve proven yourself about being able to handle mob business. But Nico has grown up in this. He was literally bred to be the head of a mob family. And Timo, while not born into it, got in with Nico at such a young age too. They’re the ones that know what to do, have this life ingrained in them.

Hearing that from Timo, seeing that look in his eyes, is such a heavy compliment it makes you want to cry. He’s known you from day one, has heard every fear and concern you’ve ever had about Nico and the Devils. He was the one that took that broken girl, the one still insecure and lost after you’re break up with Nico and the loss of your family, traumatized and mentally unwell from Philadelphia, and taught you to be strong and capable.

These past few months, between Nico showing you that all this time that he’s been building up the Devils for you and Timo admitting that he’d follow you over Nico, it’s almost too much.

Blinking away the flattered tears that have gathered in your waterline, you take a steadying inhale as the crane comes to a stop. The groundskeeper, a man unknown to you but now on Nico’s payroll, maneuvers the arm until the newly engraved headstone is placed in the indent left from yours. Only this one is triple the size, stretching across the entire plot, on all three spaces under your parent’s name.

Shiny and new, the black marble swirled with flecks of gold is a stark contrast to the white one that had been here. It’s unmistakable, unmissable. If your parents so much as drive by and glance over they’ll know that it’s been swapped. And they’ll come over to see the latest warning that’s been put in place.

Glaringly obvious who it’s come from. The stone is engraved with their names, a large and gothic looking font spread across the entire top half. Nico didn’t put any dates on it but he did add a personal touch.

For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell and committed them to chains of gloomy darkness to be kept until the judgment.

You can’t help but smirk at the scripture he stamped under their names, framed by two imposing devil horns on either side. In case they happened to miss the message, the devils logo will hopefully do the job.

No matter what they do now, how they might try to go back or rationalize themselves, Nico will not be sparing them. As of right now, they’ve already been caught. All he’s waiting for is the explanation you want, the reasoning that will condemn them.

The irony of him being God here isn’t lost on you. If they want to take you off this earth unwilling and untruthful, he can play God bigger and better than anyone. He can do worse. And you won’t stop him.

“What’s next?” Timo asks as the groundskeeper dropping the chains from the crane. They crash to the ground with a ringing clatter, falling away from the headstone until the whole thing glints freely at you.

Nico squeezes your hip, peering over your head to his friend. “We start pushing in on them,” he says, going into the plan you and him have laid out. You’ll monitor Johnny and Alex from the house, sending them out to tail and take tabs on your family. They’re going to get down whatever routine and schedule your family might have, figure out why and how your nonna is suddenly in town. And anything she might’ve known about your death. While the four of you work on that, Timo and Mercer are going to be enforcing the new rules for Devils protected establishments. The next round of check ups he’ll make sure they’ve been notified and are in agreement with the protocols. Anyone who isn’t will be dropped from their contract.

The others will be awarded a compensation for any income they may miss out on by denying your family services. Timo will be working out the numbers on that and making sure it’s all distributed. Then he’ll be double checking that all businesses have a way of reaching Jonas and Jesper in case of emergency or any retaliation on your parents side.

“I don’t want any trouble for our people,” Nico concludes. “You gotta keep a close eye there Timo. That’s the only way we keep them safe and her.”

He gives you a shake on the final word, your sunglasses slipping down your nose as you giggle and curl into his chest. Smiling softly, he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

Timo makes a noise of realization. “You’re going to up root them. Make them unwelcome in their home.”

You purse your lips, unwilling to admit that this part of the plan was fuzzy. Yeah you want them to suffer, want them to feel as lost and uncomfortable as you did. But Nico had offered more, the ultimate punishment and you still haven’t answered.

“It’s nothing worse than what they did to her,” Nico defends but you both know Timo wasn’t judging. He just hasn’t been here for it all, doesn’t know what exactly you’ve contributed. He’s trying to get a feel for how far this will all go because from the looks of it, Nico is going to cross that line.

“So this is how it ends?” He nods towards the headstone. “It’ll stop when they’re here?”

The words hang in the air, both of you unable to answer. Nico won’t make this decision for you and you won’t make it either. Obviously you know they’ve done that, have made the hard choice of completely removing you from their life but they lied about it. They didn’t actually try to kill you. Though you supposed the only reason they didn’t is because they’ve always assumed the worst of Nico. They probably thought he would get you killed and then all of this here wouldn’t be a lie. More of a prophecy come to life.

Up until last week though, you still had a space for them in your future. You were already mulling over the idea of inviting them to your wedding, of figuring out a way with Nico to at least let them know that they’d be welcome to be there for you if they wanted to make the leap. You hadn’t written them off yet and you’re still not sure you want to.

All you know is that you want to make them pay. And you want them to know it was you. Nico isn’t the only one calling the shots here, even if you’ll let it appear that way. So you step out of Nico’s hold, crossing the untouched dirt of your fake gravesite and lay the bouquet of flowers at the bottom of the new headstone.

A pretty little personal touch, a gesture of hello from you to them.

~~~~

The soft glow of the kitchen lights, only half of them flicked on, greets you at the base of the staircase. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you tip toe across the entryway and into the kitchen, a low smile taking over your lips at the sight before you.

Nico’s hair hangs messily over his forehead, still rumbled and frizzy from what little sleep he’s had. The pajama pants he so rarely sleeps in hang low on his hips, the band of them hidden under the apron he’s tied around his bare torso. In the little light he’s given himself, he’s hunched over the countertop and layering a spoonful of cream in a glass dish.

“Hey,” you greet softly, pausing in the doorway. He looks up, eyes a little wild and startled before realizing it’s you.

“Hi,” he murmurs, gaze softening. He drops the spoon into the large bowl of whipped cream, straightening out. “What are you doing up?”

Laughing to yourself, you round the island as he wipes his hands clean on a dish towel. “Not baking, that’s for sure.” You tease, stepping into his space.

“S’not baking technically.” He defends, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Laying your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his apron, you examine the contents laid out on the countertop. The lady fingers, the bowl of cold coffee, and whipped topping.

“You’re making tiramisu?”

He hums, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Yeah. Wanted to make you something sweet for when you woke up.”

Slipping your hand around his waist, you let your fingers trail up the curve of his bare spine, reaching the peak between his shoulder blades before tickling back down.

“Could’ve done it in the morning,” you reply ambiguously. If Nico is up in the middle of the night, unsettled enough that he had to come down here and physically do something with his hands, it’s not a great sign. Whether he’s unable to sleep from the general events of the past week or something else, you don’t know.

Luckily, he takes the opening you give him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles, fingers squeezing your shoulder. “Got a call while you were tucking Alex in.”

Dramatic, you gasp. “And you didn’t tell me until now?”

He scoffs, shushing you by reaching down and pinching your ass through the thin cotton of your pajama shorts. Hard enough that it has you jolting, leaping forward just to end up squished even closer to him.

“Hey!” You complain but he just snickers, dropping his hands to grab at the back of your thighs. He hefts you up and onto the counter, fitting his hips between your knees.

“Do you mind?” He asks, “M’trying to tell you something important.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up straighter, hands on his shoulders as you stare intently into those warm eyes of his. Fondly, he shakes his head before continuing.

“Keefe down at the station called,” he says, lips twitching with amusement when you scowl. You know Keefe all too well from the time he arrested you and the boys. No matter how many times you told him you were Nico’s wife, he insisted that it was in his contract with the Devils to hold you until Nico could come get you. The worst part was that he made poor Luke sit on those stupid hard benches even though he’d just been hit by a car.

Teasingly, Nico squeezes your knee. “He said your parents have filed a police report. About a break in at their house and they’re insisting it’s organized crime related. They want him to escalate it even though nothing was reported stolen.”

It worries you a bit, that Nico was up in the middle of the night over something like this. Like he said, nothing was stolen and you know it was him that did it. Keefe can throw away the report, no harm done and they can all move on. Your parents will then know that the police will be of no help to them and hopefully they’ll back down from whatever they were trying to achieve with reporting in the first place.

“He can just get rid of it, can’t he?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “It’s not a big deal right? Like you said, you didn’t technically break anything or steal anything.”

Almost pityingly, Nico purses his lips, head tilting to the side like a sad puppy. His thumb starts to draw soothing circles into the bend of your knee and your breath catches in your throat, wondering what the hell could be in that report that has him this worried.

“I can have him throw it out, yeah.” He says gently, “But this still means they know baby. Or they at least know I’m up to something and they’re willing to fight back.”

Oh, you think dumbly. Of course that’s what this all meant. You feel a little stupid for not thinking it earlier. Why else would they go to police? They’re making an effort (a futile one at that) to take a stand against the Devils, against Nico, against you.

“So?”

He takes a deep breath. “I could tell Keefe to throw it out and we carry on with the plan. They’d know after that, that I’ve got the cops in my pocket. Or I let him escalate it.”

Toying with the knot of his apron, you frown. “What happens if he escalates it?” At your worried tone, Nico cups your face, the pad of his thumb tracing under your sleep swollen eyes.

“Nothing bad,” he assures, “S’just we didn’t account for it. If Keefe escalates though, we could get into the station for interviews and statements. Hear directly from them what they think they know about us.”

It sounds like a good thing. Nico had been plotting how to get direct information out of them. You’ve been using Johnny and Alex to try and do it. This way is so much simpler and you don’t have to risk your parents noticing the two men suddenly tailing them everywhere. Except Nico is still looking at you like it’s not a good thing. Dark eyebrows furrowed in worry, bottom lip between his teeth as he anxiously waits for you to say something.

“Isn’t that good?” You ask. “You could get Keefe to give you answers to everything.”

“Yeah I could,” he shrugs, a little indifferent. “But I’m not going anywhere without you by my side and I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you to be that close to them.”

You’ve never really considered yourself to be an aggressive person. You can be protective and mean when pushed a little too far, and yeah you maybe have killed a person or two but that was all self defense. You can confidently say however, that you’ve never had the downright urge to hurt someone with your bare hands.

You could right now though, you think. Cuteness aggression must be a real thing because the overwhelming need to take Nico’s precious face between your hands and squeeze him until he pops has rushed through you. This is what the big fuss was about? He’s up in the middle of the night making your favorite dessert because of this?

Nico’s always made you feel so special and loved, like you’re the most important thing to ever walk the Earth, but this is a new high for him, you think.

“Neeky,” you murmur, holding the sides of his face with gentle fingers despite your brain telling you to pinch and poke violently at the dimpled scar on his cheekbone. “I’m not afraid of them. Especially not if you’re going to be there with me. Anything they could say about me or you, it doesn’t matter. We know us. I know you. They’re not going to change that ever.”

He’s still for a moment, lips parted as he takes a deep breath. His gaze flickers between yours like he’s trying to decide if you’re being serious. It’s almost devastating to think that he was willing to give up this good deal because he was concerned of how it’d affect you. He didn’t want you to hear terrible things and get hurt.

Even if it meant making his job harder. Putting the boys in risky spots when now they won’t have to. You shouldn’t be surprised though. After all, he argued with you in Vancouver when you tried to make him promise that he’d protect Luke and Jack before you. Even then he never fully agreed, just let you talk until time was up and you had to get moving.

He’s always putting you first.

“I-I don’t want you to be hurt by this.” He insists. “We don’t know what they’re going to say and I can’t protect you from mean words. Not as much as I’d like to.”

You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging his face down until you can smash your lips to his. He makes a high pitched sound in the back of his throat, his hand slipping around your waist to draw you closer to him.

“Escalate it,” you tell him, the words just a murmur against his lips before you’re pecking at them again. “I trust you Nico.”

He groans, surging forward to kiss you again. Warm hands trail up your thighs, slipping under your pajama shorts to grab at your ass. He pulls you to the edge of the counter, your knees hiking up by his waist. Swiftly, you find the knot at the back of his apron and pull it loose, breaking apart long enough for you to lift the strap over his head. He doesn’t complain when you drop it haphazardly to the kitchen floor, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You trace the muscles there, the dips of his shoulder blades. His skin is overly warm the way it always seems to be. Even in the frigid air of the alps he radiated a heat you’ve never had. Underneath all that warmth though, your fingers find the knots in his back, tight lumps from days of stress, of apparently not sleeping enough, of choking down black coffee to keep himself focused.

“You’re all tense,” you murmur into his mouth, Nico humming absentmindedly as he tucks his face into your neck. Like the rest of him, his lips are too warm on your pulse, his teeth biting a mark of heat there that blossoms down your body, spreading like wildfire. “My poor baby, all worked up.”

He groans at your teasing, rising on to his toes and shifts his hips forward to grind the bulge of his cock into your center.

“Course I’m fucking worked up,” he says into your collarbone where he’s stretched your shirt down your shoulder. “What was it you said the other day? Something about being small…”

“Oh that,” you giggle, massaging your fingertips into his tight muscles. He groans, the sound devastatingly beautiful in how it rattles out of his throat. “I think it was something more about you not being small.”

He hums, content and flattered, and you lock your legs around his hips, balancing precariously on the edge of the counter to grind against his hard cock. “And I stand corrected.”

A thread in the collar of your shirt snaps, drawing you back from him with an affronted gasp. Nico does the same, a wolfish smile on his face when you pout at the loose neck of your shirt. It’s technically his shirt, one you’ve been stealing since the first time you ever slept at his place though so it is practically yours. And now he’s gone and messed it up.

“Nico,” you whine, “you stretched it out.”

Pleased with himself, he blinks those pretty brown eyes at you. “S’not gonna be the only thing stretched out, huh?”

It’s a terrible joke. Actually horrendous and even he seems to think so by the way his own nose scrunches in distaste. But then you’re both giggling, cupping his face and drawing him down until your smiling lips are messily pressed together.

“Alex asleep upstairs?”

You hum in confirmation, knowing that he’s still tucked into the bed in his room, exactly how you left him after you laid with him until he fell asleep earlier. You had enough mind to check on him in your search for Nico earlier, worried that maybe your fiancé was up and soothing him from a particularly bad dream. He’s been on edge lately, more than usual with all that’s going on so you didn’t hesitate to follow him upstairs after dinner when he asked you to tuck him in, ignoring the amused smirks coming from Timo and Nico.

Speaking of.

“Timo?” You mumble, letting out a noise of protest when Nico blanches, pulling back from you with terrified eyes. “What?” You asks, heart suddenly thumping nervously.

“Baby we are not- M’not stretching out Timo.”

“Oh my god!” You groan, shoving at his chest. “No I was asking if he went home, oh my god.”

Disgusted, you shiver with a frown, physically shaking off the idea. You love Timo, really you do. And he knows practically everything about you and Nico, even in your private life, but that’s too far. Way too far. The reason you’ve always been able to go to him about stuff like this is because of the fact that he’s simply your best friend. There’s never been anything there but that.

Nico’s whole body slumps with relief, dropping his forehead to rest against yours as his eyes flutter shut. “Oh thank fuck,” he gasps, “I was honestly about to throw up.”

You frown. “I think you’ve maybe ruined the mood Hischier.”

He blinks open his eyes, annoyed as he swiftly slips a hand under the flimsy fabric of your shorts, fingers immediately coming in contact with your bare pussy. Instinctively, you shift into the rough pads of his fingers, mouth dropping open in a soft moan.

“Ruin the mood my ass,” he jests, but then his face softens and he touches a gentle kiss to your lips. “Do you want to just go to bed baby?”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “No, I want you to fuck me.”

A sly grin takes over his face. “Right here? Want me to fuck you just like this?” He punctuates the question with a slow rub of his middle and ring finger in a circle on your swollen clit. Your eyes flutter closed, mouth dropping open with a soft breath of pleasure. But-

“No I want-on the couch Nico.”

You can see the face he makes even with your eyes closed just by the displeased tone of his voice. Well that and the way his fingers have stopped their ministrations, stoic between your legs. “The couch?”

Sure enough when you blink your eyes open, he’s frowning down at you like this is the biggest inconvenience of his life. You grip his shoulders, kneading your fingers into the knots there and his demeanor shifts, lips parting in a content moan.

“You’re already too tense baby. Let’s go to the couch, please?”

He offers no rebuttal, planting a hand on your ass and slipping the other down your thigh as he stands with you plastered to his chest. Abandoning the mess of half made tiramisu on the kitchen counter, Nico navigates into the dark living room with you, laying sweet kisses to your temple and cheek as he goes.

Somewhat graciously, Nico drops you into the overly stuffed cushions, chuckling at the little “oof” you let out as you flop into the couch.

“Undress for me,” he instructs in a quiet voice, nodding to your shorts as he goes to work on his own bottoms. You don’t bother with the pathetic excuse of a shirt you’ve got left, simply letting it hang low on your chest as you wiggle out of your pajama shorts.

Nico’s undone the knot on his pants now, dropping them down his legs and kicking them off to the side. Even in the dim light of the living room he looks so good, all dark body hair and thick muscles, the effects of his stupid black coffee diet already apparent in the smaller pudge of his stomach. Upset about it, you splay your hand out under his belly button, the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your fingers as you admire him with a pout. From the tip of his fluffy bed head all the way down to his thick thighs, cock hanging hard and heavy between them. Noticing the absence of his boxers, you laugh and snuggle back into couch when he lays himself on top of you.

“Not much for us to take off, is there?” You comment as he settles back on his haunches. His hands travel up your thighs, squeezing at them appreciatively before spreading them wider. Compliant, you let him drape them over his hips, knees parted to his liking. It only takes him a moment to shove your shirt up, just high enough for you boobs to peek out at him.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he replies, palming at your chest, the skin of his hands hot and calloused. “Was just waiting for you to jump me.”

You raise an amused eyebrow. “Oh really?” He nods, a close lipped smirk on his face as he traces the inside of your thighs again. “Should’ve been taking care of you huh? My poor Neeky, so stressed and worked up.”

His eyelashes flutter prettily at your words, a hand dropping from groping at your thighs to wrap around his heavy cock. Nico’s body is strong over yours when he shifts forward, bracing himself on his elbow above your head. Giddily, you tangle your hands in his hair and bring his mouth down to yours, parting your lips for him when the soft, slick sounds of him working his hand up and down his cock fill the otherwise silent room.

Never one to indulge in his own palm, he’s quick to tease the thick head of his dick through your wet folds. There’s no real rush to his movements but you feel like you only get a moment or two to breath in the air he exhales against your lips before he enters you in one swift, solid movement of his hips. Whatever shallow breathes you’d managed to inhale get caught in your throat, so full it’s like there’s no room for any air to fit around the space Nico’s taking up in your body.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice heavy and rough in your ear. Lazily, he presses wet kisses to your jaw as you hitch your legs around his waist and force yourself to take deep, relaxing breathes. “Fuck you feel good baby.”

“God Nico,” you gasp after a beat, turning your head to capture his lips. All at once he’s licking into your mouth, drawing his hips back and finding a slow but bruising pace of fucking into you. You slide a hand down his back, finding those same knots and tense muscles you’d poked at in the kitchen, now flexing with effort, and massage your fingers into them again.

A whimpered noise comes from the back of his throat, almost pained sounding but more pleasure filled than anything else. Your knees shake with it, the drag of his cock and the gruff of his voice so attractive it burns you from the inside out, pulls at every sensitive part of who you are.

“Feels good,” he grunts through a rattled breath. You keep going, fingers aching as you dig into all the tense spots of his back, and Nico - god Nico makes these raw little groans with each one, jolting and jumping when you catch a particularly tender spot. It throws off the rhythm he’d been fucking you with but you don’t even care. The startled, sporadic juts of his hip work just fine if not better, whatever intensity they’re missing being made up for with the pretty sounds he’s making.

“M’sorry I didn’t take care of you sooner,” you coo at him, scratching your nails at his scalp. Goosebumps run down his skin and he lets out a disbelieving laugh. His eyes are inky dark and wet when they meet yours, pupils blown so wide you might see a perfect reflection of yourself in them if the room weren’t so dark.

“Shhh, you’re perfect.” He assures, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth when your thumb circles a solid knot of muscle on his lower back, right where his spine first starts to curve down to his ass. The pain must be good though because neither of you miss the way his cock twitches appreciatively. “Fuck, taking care of me now aren’t you? Doing it so good too. Letting me have you like this, dead in the middle of the fucking night.”

You don’t bother giving a real answer. You know what his rambling means, when his accent bleeds in thicker and his heavy tongue lets every thought on his mind drip out. If you ever wanted words out of Nico, you know by now that you can get them out of him when he’s on verge of coming. Whatever block in his head that silences him under normal conditions falls away as soon as he’s laid bare like this. When he’s with you, vulnerable in one the most terrifying yet exhilarating ways.

Where he knows he can trust you, can just be with you. Somewhere you’ll always take care of him, hold him and make him feel good no matter the time of day.

He’s got you and you’ve got him.

~~~~

You’ve been in this interrogation room before.

The slick, silver table and metal chairs that are nowhere near comfortable. Vulnerable and exposed in the air that’s just on the far side of too cold. Above your head, the vent rattles with the constant hum of the air conditioning system.

You remember that from when you sat at this table directly across from Nico, shy under his mafioso stare as you admitted to being an accomplice in the hit and near-run of Luke.

Today Nico sits next to you though, his knee touching your thigh where his legs are spread out wide. A possessive hands rests on the inside of your thigh, not commanding or patronizing, but instead a comforting weight. Solid and soothing.

Across the table, Keefe is fielding the brunt of your fiancé’s attitude today. In his own place of work, sat at the interrogation table he typically mans, the sheriff looks small compared to Nico’s looming presence.

“They’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” Keefe says, sliding the file over to Nico. The tab of the  manila is labeled with the first initials of your parents and their last name, the sight of it making your stomach tighten with anxiety. You hate that name, hate that’s it’s been attached to you for so long even though you haven’t been in that family in a long time.

You don’t want to rush your wedding with Nico, but you can’t wait until the day you get to legally change your name on everything. When you’ll finally match him, and Alex too, and even Moose. You don’t doubt that you’re an apart of the family, don’t feel left out or anything, but it’ll be nice to share that with your boys.

“This is all they shared?” Nico asks, free hand flipping the file open. “Pretty thin.” He sits forward to start reading the police report, eyes ghosting over most of it before he’s presenting it to you.

“We didn’t expect it to go anywhere so we never followed up,” Keefe explains, “Besides, they didn’t seem to eager to be sharing a lot of detail.”

Yeah, because they’re liars. Leaning your elbow on the table, you lay your palm over the edge to keep the a/c from blowing it anywhere and read over the statements. Much to your annoyance, Nico and Keefe are right. Your parents barely even gave enough information for this to be fileable. The date, where they were when it happened (out on an errand, how cryptic), and what they noticed. Nothing stolen or broken, but things moved around and paper burned in their sink. No sign of forced entry.

“This is nothing,” you sigh, closing the folder and giving it back to Nico. “They won’t say where they were or what was destroyed.”

Keefe raises an eyebrow, looking from Nico to you and then back. “Do I need to know what was destroyed?”

Nico makes a face, shaking his head. “It was all fake documents,” he says, patting the inside of your thigh. “It’ll be fine baby. We’re going to listen in to their questioning. Keefe’s got some stuff I told him to make sure to ask, we’ll figure out what they’re up to.”

Keefe nods in agreement, picking up the file and you all stand from the table. Wrapping Nico’s leather jacket tighter around yourself, he guides you out of the room and out into the hall. Moose perks up from where you left him sitting by the door to the interrogation room, coming to your side when Nico whistles at him. Intrigued, Keefe watches Moose flank to the side Nico’s not at, the two of them standing protectively around you. He doesn’t say anything though, instead just leading you a few feet down into another open doorway.

The room is small, roughly the size of a large storage closet with a few chairs lined up. But the two way glass covering the far wall overlooks the room you’d been sat in not even five minutes ago.

“Can settle in here,” Keefe motions to the seats. “If you need anything Nico, they’ll be an officer posted outside the door. Just knock on it and she’ll come in.”

“Thanks Keefe,” Nico nods, nudging you into the room. You settle into one of the chairs, Moose sitting politely by your feet. “Appreciate it.”

The two men share a hard handshake, Keefe giving you a half wave before he’s stepping out of the room. You shift in the tall chair to face the two way glass as the door clicks shut behind you. You can feel when Nico turns to look at you.

“You doing ok?”

Running your fingers through Moose’s fur, you nod. You were never nervous for this. Maybe anxious, but more so in the way that you’re ready for answers. You’ve already had an awkward, panic inducing interaction with them and you’re not going to have one again. Whatever care you held for them vanished after that day.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you promise, offering him a soft smile over your shoulder. “Annoyed with them but I don’t- I don’t really have any feelings towards them anymore.”

Nico comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in to kiss your temple. Moose’s tail wags, tilting his snout up to look at Nico and then he’s resting his head on your thigh where he can see you both.

“Hi Müsli,” he murmurs, chin digging into your shoulder and his fingers scratch softly between Moose’s eyes. Softer this time, he asks, “What about your nonna?”

Until now, you hadn’t been thinking of her. It’s a little too much if you’re being honest. So much went down that day and so much has happened since then that you haven’t wanted to think about your grandmother. If you don’t think about her, you don’t have to think about what she may or may not know. She was shocked to see you that day in the deli, so obviously she didn’t have any idea of your death being fake, but she hasn’t reached out since. You don’t want to think about what that means.

“I guess we’ll see right?” You shrug, but an ugly feeling is bubbling in your gut. A little anxious, a little scared, but more disgusted. Everything about this situation has just left a bad taste in your mouth.

Nico hums, mouth parting with words that never get spoken because the muffled sound of the door opening on the other side of the wall comes through the low speakers. You both sit up, attention turning to the glass where Keefe is guiding in the two people you’ve been waiting for.

“No nonna,” Nico comments, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. He gives them a reassuring squeeze, thumbs pressing into the tense spots on your neck.

Your mother is the first to sit at the table, a modest black dress on her frame that looks like it’s meant for church more than it is a casual Friday at the police station. Like the fabric of her clothes, she sits cold and stiff, purse balanced on her crossed legs.

“Yikes,” Nico murmurs, “Katja Hischier anyone?”

Which he’s not exactly wrong. While you’d say your mom was a lot warmer than Katja seemed to be, they both exude the same haughty, superior air. Your mother especially now that you’ve become public enemy number 1.

By now your father has sat down too, awkwardly folding his hands on the cool metal of the table. Keefe doesn’t so much as glance at the two way mirror as he moves to sit across from them, an unknown officer with him. They take a moment to settle, the officer pulling out a blank form from the folder and a pen.

“Thanks again for coming in today,” Keefe starts and your mother’s lips twitch into a polite smile. “I’ll try to make this quick so you’re not spending all day here. Why don’t you just walk me through the initial report again.”

Nico’s fingers continue to massage at your shoulders and neck, gentle but strong in their touch. He doesn’t speak, any words unnecessary when his hands, the ones that always know how to hold you together, do enough to keep you grounded. A silent support as the two of you intently analyze the scene happening in front of you.

“Well last week we returned home to find that someone had been in our house,” your mother states, her tone plain and simple. Like it’s all that clean cut. Someone broke in so the cops should arrest them. No further details needed.

A silent pause. Keefe and the officer, pen hovering over the paper share a look. “Do you remember what day?”

Your mother purses her lips. “Thursday.”

Another awkward pause. The officer writes down the date on his sheet. Your father shifts uncomfortably and Keefe clears his throat. “What time did you arrive home?”

“It was dark,” she responds immediately. “After dinner hours.”

You roll your eyes. “Dinner is six o’clock,” you murmur to Nico. It’s been dinner at six every day of your life until you went to college. No matter the date, weather, holiday, birthday, whatever dinner was always served at six.

“What?” Nico asks, his fingers pausing their massaging. “Everyday dinner was served at 6. Even if we ate out, it was timed so that we’d be seated and ordering at 6. She’s being cryptic for some reason.”

He hums thoughtfully, squeezing your shoulders again. Methodically, he drags his hands down your biceps, flexing his hands as he goes. On the other side of the wall, Keefe purses his lips.

“What do you consider dinner hours?”

Indignant, your mother scoffs. “Anytime after dinner?” Her expression has gone sour, neck growing splotchy with agitation and you revel in for a moment. At least until your father sits forwards, offering a placating smile.

“It was probably around 7 or 7:30 that night. We got home and found the rug in our living room messed up, pictures and things moved around. Something was burnt in our sink.”

Finally, the officer starts scribbling down actual useful information and Keefe’s large shoulders slump with relief. Even as your mother side eyes your father, tongue in cheek.

“Was there any sign of forced entry?”

“No sir,” your father replies, blowing out a sigh. “The door was locked even. We checked the windows and other exits, nothing. We have no idea how someone got in.”

Your mother scoffs, rolling her eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest, foot beginning to shake restlessly under the table. “We know how he got in.”

He. Nico. So she does know.

“Oh,” Keefe hums, “you do? Nothing was stated in the initial report?”

She takes the chance to argue her case, to prove that she’s right just as she always has. You’re all to familiar with the way her nose flares, eyes narrowed in challenge as she speaks yet it still takes your breath away.

You can picture her standing over you as you sat on the staircase, telling her about how you’d failed your elementary Spanish test that week because you kept mixing in Italian phrases instead and she’s muttering that she knew it, that she knew it’d be too much for you, that you couldn’t handle it all.

“It was that mafia running around here,” she says matter of fact. “The only person who’d be interested in our home, our lives would be that Hischier man.”

Behind you, Nico makes a pleased noise, like the disdain dripping off her tongue is the biggest compliment. His breath is hot on your cheek when he leans in, a giggle in his voice. “That Hischier man huh? Sounds pretty legit.”

You shake your head in amusement, turning to catch his smile for a chaste kiss. “You are pretty legit Hischier.” You tell him, warmth blooming in your chest when his smile widens, and he starts thumbing at the hinge of your jaw.

“Hischier?” Keefe asks, almost incredulous. “As in Nico Hischier?”

“Yes!” Your mother insists, gaze a little wild. “You know him then? And what he does?”

“Yes ma’am we know all about Nico Hischier.”

The two of you snicker under your breath. She has no idea just how much Keefe knows about Nico and the Devils.

“Then you’ll know that this wasn’t a coincidence or anything,” your mother says triumphantly, shaking her head. “No he’s had an eye on us for a while. A few years ago my husband here was being followed, kept feeling like someone was watching him. He’d see that Hischier guy all over town almost everyday. And then it just stopped. Now all of sudden our house is messed up and no one can find any sign of who did it. It’s sneaky mafia business is what it is.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, rubbing at your eyes. “Following my dad? I think she might actually be insane.”

Except Nico is suspiciously quiet. Eyes narrowed, you slip out of the chair to look at him, hands on your hips. He’s still leaning into the chair you were sat on, eyes wide and innocent. Too innocent.

“Oh Nico,” you mumble, exasperated. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” He insists, holding his hands up in defense. “I didn’t do anything technically. I just maybe was keeping an eye on them.”

You’re not even surprised. Despite laughing at how absurd your mother sounded accusing him of tailing your father, you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time you’ve become privy to him tailing someone unknowingly. He’d done it to you back when you were in school.

“When?” You ask, unimpressed.

He shrugs. “When we were broken up. I just- it wasn’t even about them, I was making sure that you were okay. I wanted to know that you didn’t go back to them.” 

Of all the reasons, you didn’t think that would be why. He was following them for you? When you weren’t together and thought you meant nothing to him? Was he following you then too? When he had no right to? Though you suppose he always had that right with you because something about the thought of him still being with you back then is nice. All that time you spent feeling so scared and alone, abandoned by family and friends but worst of all abandoned by him. He had your back even then.

You wonder why he didn’t just ask Timo about you. He was still your friend at the time, the one you turned to for everything and maybe you weren’t the best of friends back to him, but he was always there. Always just a text or call away. Like he was right there. A sour thought bleeds into your brain.

Was Timo tailing you? When you thought he was just being a friend did Nico actually have him watching you? You know Timo and Nico had a strained relationship after the breakup but you also know that Timo is undeniably loyal to Nico. He’s picked him over you before. Why wouldn’t he have done it then, even if they were on rocky ground?

“We can’t talk about this here,” you shake your head, moving back to your seat and ignoring the guilty droop of his eyes. “We already missed things.” Settling back in your chair, you cross your arms over your chest but you don’t shake off Nico’s hand when it sweeps your hair to the side, finding its resting place on the back of your neck.

“And your daughter,” Keefe says, flipping through the folder like he’s looking for something. “Y/n, she’s his target is what you’re saying?”

You have no idea what she said before to bring you into the conversation but you don’t care right now. Eagerly, you lean forward, not wanting to miss a single word about what she says of you.

“No not a target just-“ she makes a frustrated sound. “She had been seeing him a few years ago. Before he was following my husband. We heavily disapproved and they both knew it. Now he’s retaliating against us because we told our daughter about who he really is.”

The air feels tacky and sticky in your throat, stuck like it’s trying to hang around and hear what else she has to say. Because she hasn’t said it yet, that you’re dead. She’s implying it for sure, saying you were with Nico in the past tense, that after they warned you of him that was it. That all of what is coming at them is Nico’s fault, is Nico’s reaction to them stopping your relationship.

Lies, lies, and even more bullshit lies. It’s terrifying, disorienting even that she can do it so easily and without remorse. What else in your life has she lied about and you never knew? Because if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve been with Nico all these years, you’d believe her right now too.

“Would your daughter be willing to give a statement? Tell us what she knows about Hischier and his friends?”

There’s an uncomfortable pause, one that makes your father drop his gaze to the table with what you hope is shame.

“No she wouldn’t,” your mother answers plainly, “we’ve been…estranged with her since everything happened with Hischier. There was a lot of tension and emotions. You know teenage girls and their feelings, they’d rather run than admit they’re wrong about a boy.”

It makes your blood boil. You weren’t a teenager and you weren’t wrong. Your feelings, your emotions were right this whole time. The gut instinct you had at the young age of 21 made a better decision in trusting Nico than hers did in deciding she’d ever be a fit mother.

“So she’s had no contact with you?” Keefe asks and your mother shakes her head. “Has she had contact with Hischier?”

Your mother clicks her tongue. “I don’t believe so, no. My daughter would never make such a dumb decision.”

Ouch, you wince but what can be done. You’re not their daughter. You haven’t been for a long time now. While the reminder hurts, it only throbs dully in that bruised part of your heart. Yeah you lost them, but look at everything you’ve gained.

“Why would Hischier come after you now then? Unless he’s been in contact with her?”

Your father is the one to speak up and you’re grateful. Unlike your mother, he’ll at least give something of significance.

“We ran into her last week at lunch. She was out with another boy and a dog. We tried to talk to her, to ask her how she was doing and about this new man but she freaked.”

Freaked? You freaked? You guess that’s a valid thing to say considering you did well up with tears and almost knock over a table before leaving. But without the context, no that’s not true.

“Freaked how? Did you know she was in town?”

Sighing, he shakes his head. “We had no idea where she’s been. She spoke to my mother for a moment but then got weird. Started to leave and when I tried to tell her to wait she turned her dog at us. This big, vicious thing of a dog. Honestly, it shouldn’t have been around anyone else acting like that. My mother almost had a heart attack.”

As if knowing he’s being talked about, Moose rises from his ball on the floor, tilting his head curiously at Nico.

“Is that you Müsli?” Nico asks teasingly, patting his head. “Vicious thing? Daddy is so proud of you.”

You both know he’s not joking about that. Moose did exactly what he was trained to do. Keep harm away from you at whatever cost. When it comes to protecting you, Moose rivals Nico in his viciousness.

“She just ran?”

“Yes sir,” your father raps his knuckles on the steel table. “The next day the house was broken into. We thought maybe it was no big deal, just something to unnerve us. But then a couple days ago we drove by our cemetery and found something else.”

Oh, you think giddily. They noticed almost right away. You wish you’d thought to leave a camera or something at the site. You’d pay good money right now to see their reactions, the horror on your mother’s face when she saw the scripture and devil horns. You bet she grabbed at the cross on her neck, bet she backed away like she’d been burned.

“There was a headstone placed there. With our names on it and devil horns.” Your father continues. The sign of Nico and the Devils. The horns that are littered around Jersey courtesy of him and his boys.

“We decided to report the break in after that.” Your mother says, “The threat was clear as day. Everywhere that man goes those horns follow.”

You touch the horns around your neck, pulling them out from under the collar of Nico’s leather jacket to thumb at the metal. Does she know just how true that statement is? Does she know just how many wear those horns for Nico? Does she know that you’re one of them?

“Yes we did some digging,” Keefe responds, looking through the folder again. For what, you’re not sure. “Yesterday some officers just did basic investigating of the neighborhood, looking for any suspects. We saw the gravesite but it appeared another one had been there first. Do you have any relatives buried there?”

That wasn’t in the folder. He wasn’t looking for anything, just a way to bring up the topics and questions Nico specifically asked him for. He even told Keefe that he’d illegally placed the new headstone there.

“No we don’t,” your mother says, frowning. “Another headstone? Are you sure?”

“Yes ma’am. It was apparently on the far left plot.”

She makes a noise of realization. “Ah yes we sold that plot after the falling out with our daughter. I’m not sure if anyone new bought it and buried a relative there but it wasn’t us.”

And back to square one on the lying. There’s no way they sold that plot back to the cemetery and then didn’t notice that headstone with your name on it. The dates themselves gave it away. They knew when you picked Nico over them.

“That’s bullshit,” Nico suddenly spits. He’s stepping away from you then, pacing back and forth as he glares daggers at your parents through the glass. “Everything they’ve said this whole time hasn’t been true! Including the part about you being dumb.”

It startles you for a moment, seeing him like that. You know angry Nico, felt the sting of his harsh words and mean eyes. You heard the way he mocked you, cold and brutal when you defied him in Switzerland. You always through he could be meanest when he’s scared but now you think this is it. He’s not scared, not nervous, he’s just unfathomably angry. His neck and cheeks are turning splotchy red, cheeks hollowed by the tight clench of his jaw, but it’s his eyes that are the most telling.

They’re so dark, so unlike the warm honey ones you’re used to. Even when he was mad at you, he’s never looked at you like that before. You’re jarringly informed of why so many people are scared of him.

“I know that Nico,” you say carefully, rising to your feet. Tentatively, you approach him with a hand reaching out to touch him. “I know it’s bullshit Nico, it’s ok.”

He halts, gaze turning to you with such ferocity your heart stutters. “It’s more than bullshit,” he hisses but he lets you touch him, doesn’t move as you take a hold of his wrist. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You- I mean imagine if they knew that it was you that figured this all out. It was you that got me into their house. That everything coming for them, even this interrogation is you playing games with them. Because you’re smarter than them.”

“I know,” you assure, cupping his face in your other hand. He presses into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Nico looks so sweet like this, standing over you with his dark eyelashes resting prettily on the apples of his cheeks, leaning into you with the gentlest of movements. You wonder how everyone thinks he’s so hard to read sometimes, especially with what just happened. Because if he opened his eyes right now, you’d know just how upset he is. They’re his tell, always. His eyes and eyebrows have always given him away.

“Imagine how stupid they’ll feel when they realize.” You murmur. “We’ll get to see the looks on their faces when we tell them that the cops are with us. That the whole city is with us and they have nothing left.”

Taking even breaths through his nose, Nico blinks his eyes open. Under his lowered eyebrows he still looks angry, but his gaze is warm and loving again, shining with adoration when he looks at you. “They’re liars Nico. And we’re going to use that against them.”

“Yeah we are,” he promises.

You press your thumb into his clenched jaw, urging him to relax with slow circles. “But you’re not a liar so I need to know why you didn’t tell me you tailed my father.”

His eyebrows soften with guilt. “Because it was pathetic, wasn’t it? Me acting like I was protecting you when I was the one that had hurt you? I had no right to do that and I- I didn’t want you to see how much I failed.”

Your eyebrows knit in concern. Pathetic? Failed? Does he not remember how pathetic and useless you were without him? That you consumed more alcohol in that month than you have your entire life, even now. That you compared every man you met to him, that he followed you everywhere. The smallest of things reminded you of him and once that reminder was there it festered until you were actually envisioning him in front of you.

“You-what Nico? You didn’t fail me, you came back for me. I didn’t- I never tried to get you back. If anyone was pathetic then it was me.”

His frown deepens, dimples popping sadly at the downturn angle of his lips. “No I had just broken your heart baby. You’d lost everything and then I made you think you’d lost me. That’s- none of that was your fault.”

You had lost everything at the time. Not because you’d been disowned by your family and lacked genuine friends, but because you’d lost him.

“Timo,” you murmur, almost afraid to ask. “Did you have him follow me?”

Nico blanches, pulling back from your touch like it’s just stung him. Taking ahold of your wrists, he squeezes them so tight your fingers tingle. “No I didn’t. Timo wasn’t- he wasn’t my friend then. Not really. He was so pissed at me. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, burning with embarrassment. “You were tailing my dad and I know now that you always intended in coming back from me so I thought maybe you were having him keep an eye on me. He was- he did a lot for me then Nico. And it wouldn’t be the first time you had one of the boys follow me to make sure I was okay.”

Almost desperate, he brings your hands up to his lips, pressing a smattering of tender kisses to your palms. His beard scratches at your fingers. “Timo was there for you because he loves you. He didn’t do much with me then. We could barely sit in the same room together. And I was doing jobs on my own so he was free a lot.”

You let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping as you accept his answer. He may have kept things from you before but he’s never lied. As soon as you ask him for something, he always gives his all.

“Okay,” you nod, and he presses one final kiss to the ring on your left hand. “Sorry I just had to know.”

“S’okay,” he promises, watching you for a moment. The questioning happening behind you has long been over, Keefe and his officer now sharing notes, waiting for you and Nico to emerge. Then he’ll hand over the information your parents gave and you’ll have another one up on them. “Can ask me anything, anytime baby, you know that.”

“I know,” you promise, squeezing his hand. “We should get going. We have to meet Alex and John.”

Nico hums in agreement but doesn’t move to leave. Instead he slips his hands out of yours, wrapping them around your shoulders and caging you into his chest. You melt into his hold, face tucked into his shoulder and inhale the rich scent of his cologne.

“In a sec,” he mumbles, “need to put more space between your parents and me.”

Which is fine with you.

23 blocks away, Johnny and Alex move silently through the house Nico had bullied his way into last week. Just as he’d entered, they’d come through the front door with guns tucked into their waistbands and black duffle bags over their shoulders. And for the whole hour and half your parents spent being questioned at the police station, they tucked into every crook and cranny of the house, wireless bugs. No visuals will come with but you’ll have constant access to the sounds in their home.

Johnny is finishing up placing the last black microphone onto the inside paneling of the curtain rod when Alex comes into the kitchen, a vase of flowers in hand. He stops at the sink to fill the vase, oblivious to the way Johnny is watching him in confusion.

“What are you doing?” He asks, leaning against the counter. Alex shuts off the water, tastefully rearranging the white roses.

“Y/n asked me to leave them,” he explains, carrying them over to the dining room table. He places the vase at the center of the table, admiring it for a moment. “Are these the flowers she left at the cemetery?”

Johnny purses his lips. “Yup,” he nods, “so I’m guessing they’re not exactly a gift huh?”

Alex steps back, picking up his duffel bag from the kitchen tile and shouldering it. “No I don’t think it is.”

The significance of them goes unspoken. You’re playing the game too, the twisted and demented narratives they’ve been spinning all turning to this tangled mess of paranoia. You want them to know that the Devils have been here again. Maybe they’ll think it was Nico. Maybe they’ll think it was you.

Either way they’ll know. You’re not backing down again.

~~~~

The steaming shower water fogs up the glass doors of the showers, drips down the bathroom mirrors. Nico’s skin is red from it, splotchy in a way that makes you wince. You have no idea how he’s capable of taking such burning hot showers. Though you can’t say much because the steady jet beating down on your skin is cool compared to the heat of his mouth below your ear.

“Fuck Nico,” you whimper, hips jolting forward when his fingers curl up into your g-spot. He presses a hot kiss to your wet skin, voice deep and husky when he goes, “yeah baby? That your spot?”

“Yes, yes right there Nico.”

You arch down into his hand, head pressing into the tiled wall and the claw clip keeping your hair out of the water digs painfully into your scalp. Not that you care. The feeling is dull, almost nothing compared to the way Nico’s fingers are taking you apart. Thick and calloused, they rub brutally at that sensitive spot inside of you, winding up the invisible string that’s still holding you together.

Your hand shakes, the detached shower head in it trembling as your other hand claws at Nico’s shoulder, desperate for something to ground yourself with. The slight slip of your hand doesn’t go unnoticed however.

“Nuh-uh baby,” Nico grunts, the hand on your waist gripping your wrist. He shifts it back up, directs the jet of water directly on to your throbbing clit. Your legs shake with it, body only head steady by the thick thigh he’s got pressed between yours. “Hold it right there for me.”

It’s too much, his voice, sexy and heavy with his accent, his fingers curling relentlessly inside you, his mouth on your neck, the water stimulating your clit. You feel overpowered in the best way, helpless to him even if you’re the one holding the shower head. “Please, please, please…” you beg, hips shifting on their own accord. You don’t know whether you should be moving down into his fingers or forward towards the stream of water.

“I know baby,” he mumbles, a little mocking in his sympathy. “Feels so good, doesn’t it?”

Blindly, you nod, gnawing at your bottom lips as that thread of pleasure pulls tighter and tighter in your belly. “Keep that hand still,” he reminds, “you’ll come if you do what I tell you, yeah?”

“Yes Nico,” you gasp, unsure if you’re agreeing with his words or the vigor of his fingers. Placating, he nips at the column of your throat, the muscles in his shoulders and arm flexing with each curl of his middle and ring finger.

“Sound so pretty, sweetheart,” he compliments gruffly, chuckling when your pussy bears down on him. “Can you even hear it? How wet you are for me? Dripping down my wrist. Or how about those little sounds baby? Crying for me like that. It’s too good huh? You need to come?”

You can’t hear it, can’t hear anything except his voice and the blood rushing in your ears. He makes you sound pathetic and desperate though, a whiny and sloppy mess just for two fingers in your hole and it’s so hot. The way he says it with awe, never mocking or degrading, but honored.

That thread in you snaps, the coil of your orgasm spinning out in your core in a rush of white hot pleasure. You lose track of holding the shower head exactly where he told you, your limbs shaking and trembling as you pulse around his fingers and claw at his back.

Faintly, you feel his lips moving against your ear, his hand leaving your hip to cover the one you had holding the shower head. He’s gently with it, drawing your hand back and then moving it in slow circles, dragging out the last aftershocks of your orgasm.

His hand stills, letting your trembling one let go in favor of holding his bicep that’s still flexing with the lazy drag of his fingers in your pussy. The static in your head fizzles out as he returns the shower head to its holder, softly gripping your side again.

“You okay?” He murmurs, kissing your damp temple. “Done?”

Tongue heavy, you blink up at the ceiling and nod, then mumble out “mhm Nico.” Another kiss to the bulb of your nose, one to your chin, his lips whispering light apologies as he slips his hand from between your thighs, you wincing in overstimulation. You’re still staring blankly at the ceiling when he grips your chin between two fingers, tilting your head down to look at him and you frown at the sticky feeling on the pads of his fingers.

“Ew Nico you did not-“

He buttons his mouth to yours, licking into your slack mouth and giving you a taste of yourself. Your complaint from earlier goes forgotten. When did he stuff his fingers in his mouth and lick them clean?

“Tell me for real now,” he says when you part. “Are you okay? With everything?”

It’s an odd place for him to be checking in, an odd time too with the way your thighs are still quaking but it’s sweet too. Because to him there’s never a bad or weird place to make sure you’re okay.

“I am,” you promise. His gaze is soft and imploring when you finally get your brain to focus, stirring with arousal but more concerned with you than himself. “I know it’s a lot- or it should be a lot- but it doesn’t feel like it. I just feel like I’ve earned this I guess.”

“You have,” he encourages, wide palms cupping either side of your face. “You’ve earned the right to break the Geneva Convention I think.”

“Wow,” you giggle, “permission from the Swiss himself. Maybe I will then.”

He chuckles, all deep and rumbly in his chest as he touches his forehead to yours, wet hair hanging over his dark eyebrows. “Before we do that, you don’t need anything, right? Like you’re not feeling…sad again?”

Sad. Depressed. The word you’ve never let him use even though it was true. It’s always that you were sick or unwell because you were. You took meds though and you went to the doctor and you’re better now. For some reason though that word gets stuck in your throat, has been lodged there since the first day you came out of therapy with an official diagnosis and prescription. And when Nico saw it, asked you what it was for you couldn’t even say the word then. You simply showed him the slip.

“I’m not…” you pause, unable to look into his eyes as you clear your throat, feel the words on your tongue. If you can’t say it, it’s because it’s still there right? You don’t feel like it’s there though. This is the happiest you’ve been in years. So you need to say it.

You inhale, steel yourself. “I’m not depressed.”

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening in surprise that you’ve actually said it out loud. But then he goes soft again, shock turning to awe and his eyes shine with happiness when you finally meet his gaze again.

“That’s good baby,” he says with earnest. “That’s so good. M’so proud of you.”

Your ears go hot, body flush with heat. “It’s you. I feel better with you. Like you’re so solid all the time I don’t ever have to worry.”

He’s silent for a moment, dimples sinking into his cheeks as the two of you listen to the lukewarm water splatter into the opposite shower wall. Nico butts his nose into yours. “I- I’m glad. You know I’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “No pressure or anything Neeky.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling fondly before he’s closing his mouth to yours again. Nico kisses you into the shower wall for a few more minutes, strong and solid just like you said he was, like he’s telling you just what he thinks of the ‘pressure’ of taking care of you. The shower water grows icy though and the two of you get out shivering, fighting over the large fluffy towel hanging on the bathroom door before Nico manhandles you into wrapping up with him.

You spend the rest of the morning giggling and kissing him, sharing pecks and teasing comments as the two of you dress and get Moose ready to go. Still laughing as you pile the dog and Alex into the car, trying not to blush when Alex visibly brightens in the backseat at your bubbly mood today.

That floaty feeling is still there when Nico pulls up behind Timo and Johnny at the cemetery, the two older men already chatting with the groundskeeper. Timo is the first to greet you when you get out of the car, abandoning the conversation to throw his arms out wide and you drop Nico’s hand in favor of skipping over to hug him.

“Oh god I miss you,” you whine dramatically, Moose wondering up lazily behind you to sniff at Timo’s shoes. “We used to see each other everyday and now I’m stuck with him.”

“Oh okay,” Nico says from behind you, his large palm swatting at your ass in a stinging slap. You flinch away from him, pouting as he stares you down through narrowed eyes. Moose makes an unhappy growl in his chest that Nico chooses to ignore. You scratch behind the dog’s ear in appreciation.

“Now who’s being inappropriate in a cemetery,” you mock, slipping up and laughing when his smile widens with delight.

“You’re chipper today,” Timo interrupts, falling into step at your side as you all gather back with Johnny and the groundskeeper. “Good morning?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, leaning into his shoulder and lowering your voice. “It was a really good morning. In the shower specifically.”

He snorts, elbowing you into Nico and your fiancé snatches up your hand in his, a knowing smirk on his face. You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s in on the bit, even if he didn’t explicitly hear you talking to Timo. The conversation stops there, replaced by a new one as Nico greets the man waiting with Johnny.

“Hisch,” he nods, “I was just telling your boys here that I looked into that site. There’s a transaction under that last name of when they bought all three plots but that’s all. Clerk made a note though that about a year ago they came by and looked into the price point of selling back to the cemetery but nothing official happened.”

Nico’s eyebrows stitch into a frown. “They never sold the third one? Is there any record of them laying that headstone there?”

The groundskeeper scratches at his neck uncomfortably. “Nah man. If they sold it, it was done under the table to someone else which you can’t do without approval here. Must’ve been done illegally. And there’s no record of the headstone either. Don’t even know who made it. Must’ve been laid there before I got here though.”

Nico’s jaw ticks, his grip on your hand tightening for a moment. Johnny sighs through his nose, shifting his weight onto one leg. “That’s it? They just did it all illegally and now no one knows anything?”

Helpless, the guy shrugs. “I’m really sorry. I wish I could help but this is my first summer here and I don’t know who even helped those guys out with doing that.”

Almost in sync all four boys huff, clearly annoyed and disappointed at the lack of information they’ve been given. You can feel it radiating off of Nico, the thought that he’s paying this guy for nothing if he can’t help them.

“It’s fine,” you assure the poor groundskeeper who’s already done more than he could. “I mean, lots of things can be done illegally for the right price so just-thanks for your help.”

He smiles in thanks at you, look to Nico imploringly. You’re fiancé waves him off and the guys almost scrambles away, heading back towards the cart he must’ve drove over here to meet Johnny and Timo.

“We’re never going to figure out where that headstone came from,” Timo says, “not unless we get her parents talking.”

Alex perks up. “We have! Well kind of. Johnny and I haven’t listened to all the bugs yet but I mean, we can probably scare them into talking about it right?”

It’s a smart idea, you’ll admit. And Nico must think so too because he tilts his head thoughtfully, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thinks.

“Could work,” Nico finally agrees. “Maybe get Keefe to call them back in, nonna too this time. Have his question them separately about the grave. Play it off like he’s investigating us so he needs to know where the stones came from. If they think it’ll keep them safe, they might admit who they sold it to.”

The five of you lapse into silence, thinking it over. You saw first hand how your parents lied to Keefe. They must not be too concerned with secrets infringing on their goal of taking down Nico if they blatantly made up stories just days ago. They haven’t spoken to your nonna though, left her waiting in the front area during their questioning but with the right questions she might speak. After all, she has no background with Nico or your relationship with him. All she knows is what your parents told her. And who knows what was true there. Maybe you could even catch them in a lie.

“Let’s head home and start sorting through audio files then,” Johnny finally says, clapping Alex on the back. “Smart idea though kid.”

You’re trudging back to the car when Alex stops, lightly touching your free hand. You look to him, find him pointing to a bouquet of lilies on a gravesite. “Those are nice,” he says casually. “Like for a wedding.”

His sly smile gets you, makes you and Nico both laugh. He reaches around you, flicking Alex on the ear. “Stop prying would ya? This is personal.” You shoo Nico away, taking ahold of Alex’s hand and swinging them between you.

“They are pretty but we already picked flowers.”

Timo and Johnny stop, the three of you barely having time to stop before you’d bump into their backs. They both turn around, eyes wide like they can’t believe what you just said.

“You’ve been wedding planning?” Johnny asks in disbelief. “Finally?”

And well that’s a little offensive because you’ve had a lot going on! You and Nico wanted to enjoy the holidays and bask in your engagement for a bit before jumping into planning. And then you went to Vancouver and that was a mess. With Nico working so much now and you and the boys getting Hischier Enterprises together, you’ve been busy. Not putting off wedding planning or anything. Just busy.

“For your information we’ve done a lot of planning.” You scoff, jabbing at his shoulder.

“Do you have a date yet?” Alex cuts in, “A venue? Am I in the wedding? Is that allowed actually-“

“Okay calm down,” Nico interrupts, giving them all a pointed look. “Nothing has been ordered or reserved or anything, we’ve just agreed on some things. Wedding party not being one of them so don’t even ask.”

Wedding party, you internally wince. That’s going to be the worst part of the wedding you think. That’s a topic you and Nico haven’t even brought up, well aware that there’s going to be overlap in who you both want standing next to you. You have no doubt that all three of the men in front of you will be in the wedding but you have no idea where and with who.

“We have to settle on a date and venue first,” you tell Alex, squeezing his hand. Slowly, you all continue moving to the car, dragging your feet because Moose is taking his time to sniff at every blade of grass before Nico steps on them.

“Sweden is nice,” he offers innocently. “Really nice, especially in the summer. Have you heard of Midsummer?”

“I have,” you nod, “but we don’t know if we want to do something in Europe. We have to figure out guest lists first.”

“I think you could do France,” Timo throws out over his shoulder. “Nina would be over the moon. And it’s nice there.”

Nico, tone a little suspicious is the one to respond. “Since when are you thinking about Nina? Or France?”

It makes you pause, eyeing the back of Timo’s head as he shrugs. You still haven’t had time to talk about his trip to Switzerland. Did he see Nina there? Is that why he’s thinking of her? Does Nico think that Timo dropped in on his family?

“S’just close to home without being in Switzerland, right?” Your best friend deflects. Questioningly, you turn to Nico. He’s frowning at Timo too, cheek flexing as he gnaws at the inside of it. Something is going on there and you have no idea what. But you’ll find out, that’s for sure. Even if it means talking to Nina yourself.

“Doesn’t matter right now anyway,” Nico finally reminds, any playfulness he had from this morning completely gone. “Wedding can wait. We all need to focus on this and that stupid fucking headstone.”

He goes on to remind Johnny of the quickest way to sort through the audio, reminding him to actually let Alex do some of it too so that he can learn the skill. And two sets of ears is better than one. You’ve stopped listening by then though because your phone chirps from the pocket of Nico’s leather jacket, and you dig it out to an email notification.

Not even to your personal email though. It’s to the default, private user email that everyone under Hischier Enterprises is given when you officially hired them. It’s an odd combination of numbers in place of a name, the domain email being one you don’t recognize. You quickly unlock your phone, opening up the notification in the mail app.

They’ll never tell you anything about the headstone. At least no one that’s left in the clerks office. I can help but not right now. Need things to calm down first. Sorry. Be in touch when I can.

-M73

“Nico,” you call, steps faltering as the full message hits you. Whoever this is, however they got your email and know about it all, they’re not a Devil.

“What?” He asks, grabbing both of your arms, crowding around you. “What is it baby?”

You hand him your phone, biting at your bottom lip as the other boys press in around you, shielding you and Nico as he reads over the email. You don’t even know what to say. Not really. That email isn’t listed to anyone public. It’s for clients only meaning it had to come from someone who’s under contract with the Devils. Or really close with a business that is. You think of the tag line at the end. M73.

Your mother was born in 73. Not that you’d ever think she’s helping you. The number is significant to her though. After all it was the passcode to all her things when you were a kid, the pin on her credit card, the combination on the safe in her closet, the code to unlocking her car. The M could be anything of your honest but there’s something about it that sticks out.

“M73,” Nico murmurs, looking up at you. “Who is that? Do you know anyone it could be?”

It stupid. A thought you shouldn’t even have but as the boys pass the phone around you become more and more convinced. Because she wasn’t in that room with your parents. They didn’t want her to know everything, or didn’t want her telling Keefe that your parents faked your death. Maybe she knows something.

“My mom, she was born in 73,” you tell him, still hesitating. “And my nonna, she was married that same year. It was her second husband I think but his name was Mateo and everyone always said how in love she was with him. Like obsessed. She’d talk about him all the time.”

It’s embarrassing the way Nico’s face crumples into a pitying look. Like he doesn’t believe you, like he thinks you’re grasping at straws to salvage something. Maybe you are because it does feel stupid. How would your nonna be able to get ahold of this email? And who would put her in danger in favor of protecting that gravesite?

But it feels right. At least you think it does.

“Baby,” he sighs softly, “this could’ve come from anywhere. It could just be something to throw us off even. I don’t- I don’t know how your grandma would even know what’s going on.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. The thought is almost impossible. She was sick, really sick. Even if she’s capable of travel now, you don’t know how she’d be able to get away from your parents for all of this. You don’t even know if she knows how to send an email if you’re being honest. Still, it’s disappointing to hear, makes you deflate pathetically and you have to swallow hard to get rid of the lump in your throat.

Alex hands your phone back, watching the side of your face intently as you stare at Nico’s shoes. He sighs again, squeezing your biceps as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry baby. Maybe it’s her but we don’t know enough so maybe we should just ignore it for now. Focus on the bugging system and all.”

Numbly, you nod. Focus on the plan, on what you have now. That’s the protocol but as you tuck your phone away, you can’t shake it. You know that message is real, that’s it’s not some joke or distraction. It was done too hastily, too informal. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it sounds like Alex or Jack wrote it. It’s filled with the genuine concern of someone trying to help.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Nico pulls back, eyebrows high on his forehead as he stares blankly at you. “It’s real. I know it is. The message is too rushed and- I don’t know but I know that whoever it is they’re actually trying to help.”

To his credit, Nico doesn’t shoot down the idea even if he’s not entirely convinced. You’ve always had good intuition though, have known to trust your gut. It’s what gave away Rino and Lena in Switzerland. It’s what got you Johnny and Alex. Nico knows that. Maybe that’s why he’s willing to entertain the idea.

“Okay baby,” he shushes, “if you really think so we’ll figure it out, yeah?” He waits for you to nod, for the tension to leave your shoulders before continuing. “We’ll focus on your nonna then, listen to see if she mentions Mateo or her wedding at all. Anything that might connect to the email.”

Grateful, you nod. Then- “or the businesses,” you add, looking to Johnny and Alex. “This email is only accessible to people under contracts with us. If she mentions any of the businesses or clients that could be how she got it.”

It’s a long shot. People of her age aren’t very tech savvy but it’s all you can think of. She’s smart enough to know that if she had to get ahold of you away from your parents, an email could work. And she’d have no shame in asking someone for help, you know that. Maybe she picked up on what the Devils horns on the windows mean. Maybe she went to one of them looking for you.

You ignore the nagging voice reminding you that anyone who stumbles in looking for you or Nico gets reported directly to him.

You have to believe it’s her because there’s no other options.

“We’ll be thorough,” Johnny promises. “Can even listen in with us if you want.”

“Yeah,” Alex pipes up, “you can show me how to do the audio stuff instead of Johnny.”

Letting out a breath of relief, you give him a thankful smile. Alex preens under it, cheeks going red when you press a motherly kiss to his cheek. Before any of them can break away to leave, Nico catches your jaw, makes you look at him.

“I’m trusting you on this,” he says carefully, head tilted in that way that means business, that he’s not at all playing around with this. “I know you’ve got some kind of sixth sense for this but with everything that’s coming, I have to be extra careful, okay?”

Intently, you nod, the action cut short by his grip on your chin.

“M’gonna call in a couple back-ups. Just reinforcements in case we miss something here.”

It’s not a surprise to you. You’ve been at home with him all week, have helped him sort through things in the home office. Including files of potential Devs and prospects. It is a shock to the others though, Timo especially who has never seen Nico call in a prospect before. Not since Luke and he only did that because it was Luke and Jack.

“What? Who?” Your best friend gasps. “And don’t say any of Luca’s friends or whatever from home because I don’t trust those dickheads any further than I could throw them-“

“It’s not them,” Nico interrupts, running a hand through his hair. He releases your jaw, knuckling softly at the curve of your chin, all sweet and tender before looking to Timo. “I would never use Luca’s guys. I’ve got a couple rookies in Utica that look pretty good.”

“Utica?” Timo balks, “you’re bringing up one of them?”

Nico clears his throat. “No, I’m bringing up a couple of them.” He doesn’t expand further than that and no one asks him too. Even if they want to poke at him, beg him for more information. Utica isn’t far from here. He can have the call ups here tomorrow if he wanted. They can all wait.

“Are you sure?” You ask him though, because you already know who he’s been looking at. You didn’t study them as intently, but you read over the files with him, memorized their names and specialities. “They’re still training. Are they ready for this?”

He doesn’t flinch. “They’re going to have to be because we need them.”

You let him tuck you into his side, a protective arm around your shoulder and when the boys all part, Moose breaks from the circle he was sniffing around you all to join at your side. Moving back towards the cars, pace quicker now that you’ve all been thrown by the email and the call-ups, you send a mental prayer out to whoever is listening because S. Nemec and S. Casey have no idea what they’re about to be called into.

[knowinglewis]

Fading Lines

Part one/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Final Part

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when after invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari.

Word Count: 13,256

Warnings: ANGST, arguing, anxiety, yearning, overthinking. Some smut, but tooth aching sugar sweet FLUFFFFF! No use of Y/N.

A/N: WELP. Here we are my loves! This series has come to an end, and my apologies for the delay in getting the finale to you. It was a labour of love and I truly hope you all enjoy it! I'm really sad to finish this series, though I could be tempted to write an epilogue chapter too, but just unsure how I want that to look yet! From the bottom of my heart thank you all SO SO SOOOOOOO insanely much for reading this series and sticking with me through this journey! Please let me know your thoughts on it or if there's anything you'd like to see next! 🤍

Lewis said he needed to see you, that he was coming.

The words kept echoing in your head, looping louder than the doubts trying to creep in beneath them. You hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t asked if he was already on the way, or if he was still just making up his mind. You didn’t even know where he was flying from, but he sounded sure, as if he had already made the decision before the phone rang.

Still, a part of you couldn’t help it, hesitation had already settled somewhere beneath your ribs. What if he didn’t come? What if this was just another almost?

You blinked hard and pushed the thought away. You needed to move.

You stood up too quickly, your limbs stiff, and your breath shaky as you walked through your apartment. The place was a mess in that sudden, microscopic way where everything seemed messy when you knew someone else was going to be looking. You started in the living room, gathering the cardigan draped over the armrest, the pair of socks kicked under the coffee table, the half-finished cup of tea now gone cold. 

You moved on instinct, straightening cushions, gathering mugs, wiping surfaces. The kind of pointless cleaning you did when your body needed distraction, because your mind was already spiraling from the messiness of the morning.

You were halfway through wiping down the kitchen bench when your phone buzzed on the counter, a text from Lewis appearing across the screen.

Landing just after 8. Should be at yours by 9.

You stared at the message until the screen dimmed, before reading it again. He was actually coming.

You replied with a simple, "Okay. See you soon." But you held the phone in your hand for a long time after, like it was grounding you.

Then came the other part. Isabella’s voice had been sharp and clear when you called her later that afternoon: “Deactivate your socials. Or go private. Whatever you do, stop giving them access.”

You sat on the edge of your bed, your laptop balanced across your knees. Instagram was first, you scrolled through the flood of DMs and tags with your stomach twisting. People had already seen the photos of you at the airport, along with other photos that had surfaced of you at the Melbourne race with Isabella and Raye.

Some comments were kind, complimenting you and how cute you looked with Lewis. Some were curious, wanting to know more about your relationship. Others weren’t, others were horrified at the sight of their celebrity crush being spotted with his lips on some woman. Especially after only ever being spotted walking side by side with his past flings, or within groups with friends, since his public split from his long time ex. This time, it was right in all of their faces, your hands on each other and your lips connected.

You didn’t let yourself linger though, you went private. Turned off tags, disabled comments, deleted one or two posts without thinking too hard about it. You resisted the urge to scroll through your endless DMs, some with messages of support, while others sending all forms of threats and hatred towards you for stealing their dream man. Then, you moved on to your other socials with the same process. Lock it down, and delete anything you didn’t want seen, especially posts that included your family or your workplace. 

When you closed your laptop, the room felt quieter, less exposed.

The clock read 7:10pm.

You still had time before he arrived, though now that you had stopped moving, your hands had started shaking again. You stepped into the shower, turned the water hot, and stood under the spray for as long as your skin could stand it. It didn’t calm you completely, but it helped you feel a little more refreshed.

By the time you were dry and dressed, in soft track pants and a loose top, you felt like you’d done everything you could. The apartment was clean, you were clean, and your notifications were finally silent.

Yet still, doubt crawled its way back in.

What if something changed? What if he didn’t show?

You tried not to look at the clock again, but you always did. 7:52. 8:06. 8:19.

You lit a candle, then blew it out five minutes later because the scent made your stomach turn. You poured a glass of water, drank half, then sat on the couch with your legs pulled up and your phone resting in your palm.

It buzzed again just before 8:40pm with a text from Lewis.

I’ll be there soon

Your breath caught in your throat. The doubt didn’t vanish, but it softened with a flicker of hope.

You typed out an “Okay,” then deleted it and sent a heart instead. Something simple, and almost safer.

Then, you waited.

You must have closed your eyes for just a moment.

The TV played something you weren't really watching, just background noise to keep your mind from spinning too fast. You'd stretched out on the couch with a throw blanket draped loosely over your legs, your phone resting next to you, and the soft sound of the room lulling you into a light, uneasy sleep.

It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, not with your body still holding all that tension in your shoulders, your jaw tight even as you drifted off. You didn’t dream, you only floated somewhere between exhaustion and the heaviness of the day.

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

You blinked awake, heart fluttering in your chest for a split second, unsure whether you’d imagined it. Until another softer knock, like he didn’t want to startle you.

You sat up quickly, the blanket sliding off your lap as you scrambled to your feet, the room spinning for a second before settling.

He was here.

You crossed the apartment in a blur, your heart pounding in your ears as you reached for the door, fingers suddenly cold against the handle. You paused for half a breath, just to steel yourself.

Then you opened it, and he was there.

Standing under the low glow of the hallway light, his braids tied back as usual, eyes shadowed from the long travel day. He looked exhausted, but still his warm, calm self.

In one hand, he held a paper bag with the logo of your favourite local takeaway place printed on the side. In the other, a small bunch of flowers, your favourite kind, the same ones he’d once sent you for your birthday, you didn’t think he’d even remembered. They weren’t perfectly arranged or extravagant, but they were thoughtful and beautiful.

You froze in the doorway. All the noise, the doubt, the what-ifs from the last few days slammed into your chest in one wave. He had come, he was standing in front of you, carrying comfort in both hands and looking at you as though you were the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“Hi,” he greeted quietly, his voice rough, like maybe he didn’t trust his voice either.

You barely heard it though.

You felt your heart crack in your chest, a soft unraveling that started in your ribcage and spread all the way to your throat. You’d held it together all day, hours of silence, tension, of holding your breath against the noise online, the doubts in your mind, the uncertainty that had followed you like a shadow from the moment you’d stepped away from him at the airport.

Now, he was here, and that was all it took.

You stepped forward without a word, reaching for him before your mind could second-guess it. The bouquet crinkled at your side, the takeaway bag rustling quietly as he adjusted to keep them both from getting crushed. His arms came around you, the weight anchoring you instantly like it had been waiting for you.

Your cheek pressed to his chest, and the tears came silently, burning hot against your skin. You didn’t sob, didn’t shake. You just let go, letting yourself feel how much you’d needed him. How much you hated the space that had formed between you. How terrified you’d been that he’d stay away while you struggled with this pain alone.

“I’ve got you,” Lewis whispered against your hair, his voice gentle with an ache of its own. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

His hand rubbed slow circles between your shoulder blades, the warmth easing your pain. His voice was steady, but you could feel the tension in him too, his heart beating faster, his breathing uneven.

You didn’t know how long you stood like that, pressed against him in the doorway, the night quiet around you. However, for the first time since everything fell apart, you felt yourself start to breathe properly again.

Eventually, you pulled back, your cheek still damp, and your fingers trembling slightly where they clung to the front of his shirt. You stepped out of his arms with a soft inhale, brushing at your eyes even though he’d already seen you like that with a quiet apology. He let you go slowly, hand trailing down your back until it fell away completely.

“Come in,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “It’s cold out here.”

Lewis nodded and stepped inside. The hallway light caught on the curve of his cheekbone, highlighting the exhaustion in his handsome features. His shoulders were heavy with travel, yet he always managed to look as perfect as ever. He set the takeaway bag gently on the kitchen bench, then placed the flowers down beside it.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry,” he remarked after a short moment, quiet as though unsure if it was safe to speak yet. “But I remember you said this place was your favourite.”

He remembered. It was only something you’d said offhandedly months ago as a recommendation if he ever visited. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You could feel the pressure building again just beneath the surface, with grief, confusion, the ache of caring too much and not knowing where to put it.

You crossed to the kitchen slowly and helped unpack the containers, your movements automatic. He was close but kept a respectful distance, as if he wasn’t sure where your boundaries were anymore. You didn’t know either.

The food smelled good, but your stomach was still tight and unsettled, your appetite completely gone. You arranged the bouquet in a vase just to keep your hands busy from fidgeting anxiously. He watched you for a moment, but didn’t comment.

You sat on the couch with him, though it felt like a silent agreement rather than comfort. Lewis set the food down between you, and offered you a fork.

You shook your head gently. “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

His eyebrows creased together, just slightly in concern. Still, he didn’t push. 

You let your eyes trail over him, taking him in as words reeled in your mind of what to say. He looked tired, like been carrying more than just a long travel day. You wondered when he’d last slept properly, whether he’d eaten at all before this. Whether he’d sat on that plane wondering if you’d even open the door.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, but it wasn’t the good kind of silence this time. It wasn’t comforting or soft. It pressed in from the edges, heavy in a thick tension that drowned the words from your mouth. It was the kind of silence that existed between two people trying to find their way back to each other, but unsure if they were supposed to.

You pulled the blanket back over your legs, suddenly cold again. Not from the air, but from how close he was without being close enough. From how badly you wanted to lean into him again, but how afraid you were of what might happen if you did.

Lewis had picked at the meal for a while, then given up too. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to begin.

Until finally, he cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze dropped to your fingers, clutching the fabric of the blanket at your thighs as he continued.

“I didn’t want any of this to happen to you.”

The apology landed softly inside your heart, but it didn’t settle anything yet. It didn’t ease your stress or diminish the fact that your entire life had been turned upside down overnight.

He glanced over at you, then back at the floor. “I know it’s bad right now.” His attempt at positivity fell flat. “But…things like this move fast. It won’t always be like this.”

You turned toward him slowly, disbelief building like a slow-moving wave.

“Bad?” You laughed bitterly, your voice sharp. “You think it’s just going to disappear? Something I just have to wait out until everyone gets bored?”

He hesitated. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No?” You sat up straighter, a sharp edge slicing into your voice. “Because that’s what it sounds like. You think this is just part of the deal?”

“I’m just trying to say it won’t always feel like this,” he replied carefully. “That there’s a way through it. I’m not saying it’s nothing.”

You stared at him, heat prickling at your eyes and your heart pounding in your ears. “No, Lewis. I’ve seen what happens to girls who get caught near drivers let alone kissing one. The vile comments, assumptions, death threats. Everyone turning your life into a spectacle out of nowhere. I’m not famous, I don’t have a team protecting me like you do. They’ve found so much of my life, they’ve posted photos of me from years ago and called me things I can’t even say out loud.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You’re Lewis Hamilton. You’ll get a few questions from the media about being off the market or something, then everyone will move on like they usually do. Meanwhile, my entire life has been turned upside down.” You went on, your voice rising in sharp, uneven bursts. 

“I knew spending time with you came with this risk, but it’s different when it’s actually happening. They didn’t just see us hanging out, they saw a very private moment. It’s not a hypothetical anymore, it’s real now and it’s fucking terrifying.”

Your chest was heaving now, fingers curled in your lap. You couldn’t look at him after you’d spilled out the words you’d been holding in, the tears stinging your eyes slowly rolling down your cheeks.

Lewis leaned forward against his knees, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t realise it got that bad. That they found so much and people were-”

“Digging into my life?” you finished for him, your voice splintering. “Yeah.”

His gaze snapped up and guilt flashed across his face, but he couldn’t meet your eyes.

You didn’t look at him either, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You stared ahead like the air in front of you might break open and swallow you whole. “They found everything. People I haven’t spoken to since high school have messaged me. My parents called me in a panic. My boss called me. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

He didn’t speak, but you could feel him watching you. You wished he’d stop.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered. 

He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I should’ve been here sooner. I called you as soon as I saw it.”

“I know,” you started, swallowing past the pain in your throat. “It doesn’t really change anything though, does it? Everything is already out there, you’re too late.”

“I’m here,” he spoke quickly, like it was the only thing he could cling to. “I got on a flight the moment I could. I-”

“But where were you the last five weeks?” Your voice wavered, but the anger underneath it didn’t as the question you’d been holding in your chest finally reached the surface.

His eyebrows pulled together as he explained, “I was working, my schedule was packed. The triple header, and every other second was just filled with something.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that.” You muttered in response. “That’s not what I mean. I barely heard from you, Lewis.” 

His mouth opened as though he was about to speak, but was cut off when you stood up abruptly. You couldn’t stand to be near him another second, you needed to move away and give yourself the space to breathe, to think your next words through. Moving towards the kitchen, you paced behind the island as though it were a barrier, splitting yourself from the situation for a moment.  

You didn’t want to have this conversation right now, but it was too late, you were already at the edge of the cliff and there was nothing left to do but take the leap. 

“I know that’s how your life is. You’re always busy, always travelling, I understand that.” You began, thumbing the edge of the counter to ground yourself. “But, we used to talk all the time. You always made time for me, even if you’d hardly slept. Then after China, everything just…”

Lewis stayed quiet, but you could feel the shift in the air and the subtle drop in his posture, like he knew what was coming. 

You forced yourself to keep going, knowing that it was now or never. “Everything changed. You hardly messaged or called. You’d take days to reply and when you did, it was just…nothing. I kept telling myself you were just busy, tried to convince myself that this was normal, but honestly, all you did was give me enough crumbs to keep hanging on to whatever this was.”

He stood from his seat and stepped towards you. “It’s not like that-”

“Isn’t it?” You cut him off again, swallowing back the choking feeling in your throat. “This is what you do, isn’t it, Lewis? You fly girls out, make them feel special so you can get in their pants, then keep them just close enough so they can’t move on and you can reach out to them again when you’re feeling lonely. I know all of that.”

He shook his head, as though he was about to deny it, but the slump of his shoulders betrayed him.

“It sounds stupid, but I thought this was different. Maybe you cared about me more than that, but it was all the same. You took me to China, made me feel like I was important to you, fucked me, then just…nothing. Like it meant nothing to you, I meant nothing.” Your voice broke at the last syllable, blinking away the tears in your eyes.

“Don’t say that.” Lewis took another step forward as you finally allowed him a second to speak. “Don’t ever say that, you know it’s not true.”

“Do I?” You snapped, backing away before he could get too close. “Because I’ve been sitting with this for weeks. Checking my phone like some idiot, thinking about our time together and wondering if you were already moving on to the next girl-”

“Stop.” He said abruptly, the frustration in his voice causing it to crack just enough that you would notice. “Don’t even think that. It was everything to me. I thought about you every single day.”

You felt unsteady on your feet at his words, your heart pounding behind your ribs. Still, your voice stayed sharp. “Please, Lewis, don’t say shit you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Lewis looked startled by the shift, pausing on his path towards you. “I mean it.”

“Then where were you?” You spit out finally meeting his eyes. “This whole time, you’ve been treating me like I don’t exist, like I’m just another one of your girls that you reach out to when it’s convenient. Some people might be okay with that, but that’s not me. You don’t get to treat me that way, then show up here when something goes wrong and act like you care now.”

He closed his eyes as he took in your words, then released a low, deep breath.

“I know I disappointed you. I know I hurt you. I don’t deserve to stand here and tell you what this should mean, or how you should feel. I messed it up. You didn’t deserve to be left guessing like that after everything we shared, everything I felt.” He looked down at the floor, jaw clenched. “You were never just someone I reached for out of convenience. That weekend wasn’t casual to me. Honestly, I never wanted it to end. I woke up next to you and thought this is it.”

He touched a hand to the kitchen counter like he was still trying to steady himself. “It meant everything, you mean everything to me. I’ve felt it for a long time, but I didn’t know how to handle it without ruining our friendship. I kept telling myself we’d figure it out eventually, we’d have this conversation next time, then the next, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I acted like a coward scared of my own feelings, so I distanced myself. Now, I’ve let you down and I am so sorry for ever letting you doubt what you mean to me. You deserve so much more than that.”

The sincerity in his beautiful, glistening eyes made your knees weaken, the wall around you slowly crumbling as he rounded the kitchen island, removing the barrier between you.

“I’m not here just because of the photos. I’m here because I care about you, more than you know. More than I’ve ever said, more than I’ve shown you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” Lewis admitted, standing in front of you and holding your gaze as though he had bared his soul to you.

The room felt quiet in the worst way, like everything had been said but nothing had really been settled. Your chest felt too tight, like your heart was caught between relief and devastation, as if it was trying to decide which way to break. He was saying everything you thought you wanted to hear, and somehow it wasn’t enough.

You had been falling for Lewis long before Shanghai. In every look, every late-night call, every moment he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. You told yourself it was just friendship, that he might never see you as anything more. Then, he took you halfway across the world, kissed you like you were made for him, held you like you were already his, and slept with you like the two of you had always been on this path. And after that, silence, distance, nothing but crumbs that left you starving for him.

Now here he was, saying everything you used to daydream about, standing in your apartment as if he hadn’t broken your heart by disappearing when you needed him most. Part of you couldn’t stop wondering if he’d just disappear again once the chaos faded. If he’d go back to his world, far away from you, and you’d be left holding the weight of this all over again. You didn’t know what was real, you didn’t know if he meant it, and you didn’t know how to forgive it.

Yet, even now with your heart torn open, you couldn’t stop wanting him.

“What are we even doing?” Your voice was shaky as you finally spoke through the silence. “Because we crossed a line, and I don’t know if we can come back from that. I don’t know if we could ever be friends again.”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp, full of a deep ache and everything neither of you had dared to say. Then, Lewis lifted his hands between you with his palms open silently, offering them to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you glanced down, before hesitantly slipping your hands into his. His fingers closed gently around yours, as though he didn’t want to hold on too tightly. Slowly, he leaned closer until you could feel his breath, as the shield you’d been holding up in your mind gave way, not entirely, but enough to let the moment hold you.

“I don’t want to go back.” Lewis whispered with a small shake of his head. “I don’t want to pretend that nothing happened, like we didn’t feel what we felt.” 

His grip tightened lightly on your hands, squeezing them as he continued.

“I don’t want to lose you, ever. I want to be with you and I want to do it right.” His voice was steady now, declaring his intentions clearly.

Your heart ached at his words, your stomach stirring with butterflies and your shoulders dropping in submission. Even now, part of you still wanted to believe him, to fall into his arms and say that you wanted this too, like nothing else mattered.

However, the lingering fear in you resisted. You’d spent weeks trying to make sense of his distance, your heart circling back to him no matter what you distracted yourself with. Now, with everything laid bare between you, it felt like whiplash, as if you were finally being handed the thing you'd quietly dreamed of, only now it hurt to reach for it.

Your mind returned to the moments you’d shared with him on your trip together, the softness in his eyes and his affectionate touches. The way he made you feel like there was no one but you. The way this all fizzled out when you were separated by time and distance. Could you really believe his words, or was that all they would be? Just words and declarations that would mean nothing when the distance came between you. What did being with you mean to him? Could it truly be any different than the pain you’d been hiding in your heart the past weeks?  

“What does that even mean to you?” You mustered carefully through your breath. “Being with me? I can’t do this if it’s going to be the same as the past month.” 

There was no deflection in Lewis’ expression now, no calm mask to hide behind. Just a man stripped down by his feelings.

“It means no more grey area. No more dancing around what we feel or pretending to be something we’re not,” he explained, looking into your eyes as if he were speaking to your heart. “It means making time for you, every single day. It means I show up properly when I say I will, whenever you need me. That I don’t ever leave you wondering, that I show you how much you mean to me every chance I get. That I choose you, always.”

He paused, swallowing hard as he brought your joined hands to his chest.

“I know I can’t undo what’s already happened, but I want to make it up to you. All of it, if you’ll have me.”

There was no performance in him now, it was just Lewis, standing there with what seemed like a flicker of desperation in his eyes, like he didn’t know if he still had a place in your life. In that stillness, you saw it: the ache of a man who had already made space for you in his heart and was terrified he might have ruined it. Maybe that was what made it harder. 

“I’m not asking for an answer right now,” he added quietly. “Or even later. Not after how badly I’ve fucked this up. I just needed you to know how I really feel.”

The tight pull in your chest hurt more than ever. You hated how much you wanted to believe him, how badly you still wanted him, even after everything. But the war inside you was real too, and it wasn’t going to vanish just because the promises you’d dreamed about had finally arrived.

“I need time,” you replied, giving his hands a light squeeze. “I want to believe you, I really do…I just don’t know how to yet.”

He nodded with understanding, “Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

Lewis stepped closer, lifted a hand to your face. His palm barely brushed your cheek, thumb smoothing just beneath your eye to brush away a stray tear that had slipped loose. You stayed quiet, leaning lightly into his touch.

His voice was soft when he finally spoke again. “You should try to get some rest.”

“Yeah.” You gave a small nod, feeling the exhaustion from all your emotions weighing on your shoulders suddenly.

The two of you remained in the kitchen, not wanting to move. There was no clock ticking, or distant city noise, just the low sound of the fridge and a silence that wrapped itself around you like a blanket too heavy to shake off. He kept his hand there for a moment longer, then slowly let it fall, but he didn’t step away.

“I can stay,” he added tentatively, as if he knew that you might say no. “Only if you want me to. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

You hesitated before giving him another silent nod, not wanting him to leave, not wanting to be alone.

Neither of you said anything else, but a few moments later, after you'd quietly excused yourself and slipped into your room, you heard the faint rustle of him settling on the couch.

He was still here, and for now, that was enough.

Later, you lay in bed, but sleep didn’t come, not even close.

Your room was dim and still, the only light a soft glow from the moonlight outside slipping in through the edges of your curtains. You’d pulled the covers over yourself for comfort, but your body was tense beneath them, feeling too warm and restless. Your thoughts wouldn’t settle. Every time you closed your eyes, you heard Lewis’ voice again. You felt the warmth of his hands. You remembered the look in his eyes when he said he didn’t want to lose you.

It should’ve made things easier, simpler, but it didn’t.

You stared at the ceiling, willing yourself to sort through all the emotions that still rushed through you. The frustration, the disappointment, the lingering fear that everything he said would vanish the second he walked out your door again. Yet underneath it, was the quiet and persistent pull of having missed him so deeply it hurt.

He was just down the hall now, on your couch. A part of you couldn’t believe that he was actually there in your home, so close to you, yet so far. 

You shifted onto your side, then your back again. Your hand found the empty space beside you  where he could’ve been, but you knew if he had been, only a single moment of weakness would have led you to break.

I want to be with you. I don’t want to lose you.

He’d said it as if it had been sitting on his chest for a long time, waiting for the right moment to fall out.

For so long, being with him had felt like a dream you didn’t let yourself reach for. Then Shanghai happened, the trip, the kisses, the way it all felt like everything you had ever wanted, and afterwards, the silence had nearly undone you. Now, he was here, saying all the things you’d hoped and you didn’t know if you were more relieved or terrified.

What if he truly meant it? What if you wanted this too?

You turned onto your side, eyes fixed on the bedroom door. Your heart wouldn’t settle, knowing he was still out there in your living room. A small voice in your head wondered if he had secretly slipped out and left you behind, but you could feel his presence in the apartment.

Eventually, you pushed the blanket aside before you could talk yourself out of it and slid your feet to the floor, the ground cool beneath your toes. You didn’t bother with a robe or turning on the light. You just padded softly through the apartment, your heartbeat steady yet loud in your chest, as though it was tethered to him, coaxing you closer.

The living room was dark, save for the faint silver light sneaking through the windows. There he was, still there. Curled slightly on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting loosely across his middle. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep, peaceful, quiet.

You stood in the doorway, watching for a second too long. It didn’t feel real, not after everything. But there he was, he’d stayed.

You crept closer, unsure why you even needed to check. Maybe you just needed to see him, not on a screen, not in a message you re-read too many times, but here. 

Lewis shifted when he felt your presence, floating in and out of sleep. His eyes fluttered open and his lips curled into a small smile. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

You hesitated. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You lowered yourself to the floor beside the couch, resting your chin on the cushion near his arm. His cologne lingered on the fabric, faintly familiar, and almost dizzying. Your fingers toyed with the hem of the blanket, grounding yourself. Your stomach knotted and turned, unsaid truths hanging from the tip of your tongue, waiting to slip out, and you let them.

His hand reached out tentatively. He didn’t touch your skin, he just left it there, close enough that the invitation was clear. You looked down at his hand for a moment, then slipped your fingers into his.

“I hate how complicated this feels now,” you murmured, running your thumb along the side of his finger, the warmth of his skin sending a mild shiver through you.

“Me too, but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” He gave the slightest nod, voice quiet. 

He pushed himself up slightly, the blanket slipping off his shoulder as he lifted it just enough to offer you the space to crawl in and join him.

After a short few seconds of hesitation, you climbed carefully onto the narrow space on the couch. He opened his arms without a word, and you melted into them, tucking your head beneath his chin, your body curling into his like it had been waiting to do so for weeks. Despite the ache in your chest, every muscle in you relaxed in his arms.

“Take all the time you need, I’m not going anywhere,” he added.

This wasn’t how you had pictured your night. Not after the tears, argument, and weeks of uncertainty. However, his arms stayed around you, his hand occasionally brushing in slow, absent patterns over your shoulder like he couldn’t quite believe you were there either. 

Maybe that was a start.

You closed your eyes, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. His fingers stilled as you settled closer, your own hand lightly resting on the fabric of his shirt, just over his chest.

Neither of you spoke, but his hold on you didn’t waver. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself rest, knowing that whatever was coming would be dealt with tomorrow.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep.

The last thing you remembered was the gentle rise and fall of Lewis’ chest, the scent of his cologne lingering on his shirt, and the comforting weight of his hand on your back. At some point, your body gave in, lulled to sleep in his arms.

When your eyes opened slowly, the living room was bathed in early light. Pale gold filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your furniture. You blinked the blurriness from your vision, momentarily disoriented…until you felt the warmth beneath you shift slightly, and the memories of last night came flooding back.

Lewis was still there, you were curled against him, one leg draped over his, your arm tucked between you. His head rested against the back of the couch, tilted slightly, his braids loosened from his hair tie. His other arm still held you close, protective even in sleep.

You didn’t move, you didn’t want to, because even if things still felt complicated, even if your heart still felt sore in places you hadn’t known it could, this moment was real.

Your eyes drifted over his face, softened in rest sweetly, and your heart squeezed. All the frustration, the confusion, the pain hadn’t disappeared. It had shifted, as though the weight of it had moved, making space for what was to come.

You pulled back carefully, just enough to sit up. This made him stir slightly, his eyebrows creasing, before his brown eyes blinked open.  They were still bleary and tired, but when they found you, they warmed instantly.

“Hi,” he rasped, his voice deep and rough with sleep.

“Hey,” you whispered back, brushing a hand through your hair.

He sat up straighter, rubbing at his face. He looked at you for a moment longer, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to smile or not. Then he glanced away, adjusting his braids back into his hair tie, a quiet exhale slipping through his lips. 

The silence stretched for a short moment as you both sat on the sofa. You felt your stomach growl quietly, remembering you hadn’t eaten dinner the night before, and your appetite was catching up with you.

“You hungry?” you asked suddenly, rising to your feet. “I’ll make some breakfast.”

He blinked, surprised by the offer. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you replied, your voice gentler this time. 

You turned toward the kitchen, trying to hide the way your heart fluttered stupidly at the sweet smile of appreciation he’d given you. Your mind was still a storm of questions, about what came next, about what this all meant, but for now, you pulled out the pan, reached for the flour, and let yourself move through the motions.

Lewis got up a few minutes later and joined you, helping without being asked. He passed you the spatula when you needed it, peeled a banana wordlessly, and found the plates from the right cupboard. It was quiet between you, a fragile silence like the calm after a thunderstorm, when everything was still soaked through but the sky had finally cleared.

You made him vegan pancakes, like you always used to joke you would. When you took a seat next to him, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and with sleep marks on your cheek, he looked at you like you had hung the moon and dotted the sky with stars yourself.

You took a bite, barely tasting the strawberry you were chewing, your nerves alight again in your body. You knew you couldn’t stay in this soft bubble forever. You’d have to talk soon, to decide.

Lewis complimented your cooking and ate slowly, savouring every bite as the two of you settled into quiet again. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but both of you knew what was coming next, and neither of you wanted to be the one to say it first.

You glanced up at him just as his phone buzzed on the kitchen island.

Lewis sighed, looked over the screen, and muttered, “Sorry, I have to take this.” He stood, already swiping to answer as he disappeared into the hallway.

Your heart sank into your stomach, dropping suddenly the second he picked up that phone. You stared at the space he’d left behind, the warmth of the moment slipping away. 

Of course. You’d let yourself believe it might be different this time, yet here he was, being pulled back into that world again. You reached for your mug, trying not to let it show, but your hand faltered slightly.

Barely a minute later, his footsteps returned. You didn’t look up at first, cutting into your pancake meticulously as though maybe if you acted normal, the hollow feeling in your chest wouldn’t show. Maybe if you kept your head down, it wouldn’t hurt so much that he’d left you there while his life outside called.

“Sorry about that.” He returned to his seat beside you, reaching for a sip of his coffee.

“It’s okay.” Your voice was low, just above a whisper as your lips curled at the edges, hiding behind a small smile.

Lewis tilted his head towards you while he set his mug down, watching you push a slice of strawberry across your plate. He switched his phone to Do Not Disturb and set it on the counter, like it was the least important thing in the world.

“I told them I’m not coming,” he explained gently, noticing your quietness.

Your eyes lifted to face him, listening as he spoke.

He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “I had a shoot scheduled this afternoon, but I postponed everything for the rest of the week.”

You felt your heart skip with a tiny flicker of hope. “You did?”

“Yeah.” His voice was soft as his lips stretched into a smile. “Because I needed to be here with you. Nothing else matters if I don’t get this right.”

There was a part of you that didn’t expect him to say that, still waiting for disappointment. A part that thought maybe the phone call was the beginning of him slipping away again. That you’d find yourself once more standing on the edge of something that never fully became yours. Despite this, he was sitting across from you like nothing in the world could pull him away. Like you were the priority.

You blinked down at the table, trying to find your voice while Lewis’ hands rested on the edge of the counter openly. His body leaned in just slightly, elbows braced and, his eyes fixed on you with patience. He was waiting, holding space for you. Letting you come to him in your own time.

No phone, no rushing, and definitely no leaving. Just the two of you, there.

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to really see it, to feel it. This wasn’t just pretty words or temporary affection. It wasn’t him checking in out of guilt or offering just enough to keep you close. It felt different, real, like he was actually here. He wanted to stay, regardless of his life outside of that moment.

Maybe this wasn’t another disappointment. Maybe this wasn’t another version of you hoping while he drifted further out of reach.

The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but it softened just enough to let a sliver of hope in. The feeling you’d been trying to ignore because it felt safer to expect disappointment than to hope for something lasting.

The quiet kind of hope that didn’t rush in all at once but arrived slowly, gently, as if it were asking permission. Maybe it was worth giving this a chance.

But it couldn’t be like before. Not if it meant twisting yourself into someone smaller, someone more convenient. If this was going to be something, it had to be on your terms. It had to be mutual, with boundaries, balance, and a lot of care. With both of you in it fully, figuring it out side by side. All in.

You placed your utensils onto your plate carefully and drew in a breath, steadying yourself. Your pulse raced, thrumming in your ears while your stomach fluttered with butterflies. This was it.

“Lewis?” you began, scratching a nail lightly against the counter to distract yourself from the nervousness that coursed through your veins.

He looked up immediately, eyes soft and open as he gave you his full attention, the same way that always gave you butterflies.

“Let’s do it,” you said finally, breathless from the weight of your words.

Lewis’ posture shifted subtly, the tension in his shoulders loosening as if hope had started to slip in through the cracks. He didn’t interrupt or rush you though, only watched as you turned towards him.

“I want to try…us,” you spoke again, firmer this time, the words anchoring inside you. It almost felt as though you were dreaming as you continued. “But there’s a few things we need to agree on first for this to work.”

Lewis nodded, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t believe it either. “Anything.”

“I know what your life is like, but we need to be in this together. I need consistency,” you started. “I need to feel like we’re both all in, not like I’m chasing after you. No disappearing on me when you’re away.”

He gave you another nod, listening intently while you continued.

“Second, we always plan when we’ll see each other next. I hate uncertainty. It makes the distance more bearable if I know when I get to see you next.” Your voice trembled lightly as you finished. “And third, we keep things private. At first, at least, until we’re both ready. What happened with those photos…it felt like we lost control before we ever had a chance to figure things out between us. I can’t do that again, not without knowing we’re on the same page.”

His expression softened at that, his eyebrows pulling together with both guilt and understanding tangled into one. “Of course, I agree with all of it. We can take our time, we’ll figure this out together.”

This time, you believed him. There was no hesitation in his voice, just certainty that he wasn’t just agreeing for your sake, but because he meant every word too.

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then pushed back slightly on his seat. The metal legs scraped lightly against the floor as he shifted, knees parting just enough to make space in front of him. 

“Come here,” he whispered, his hands lifting, and arms opening in a quiet invitation.

You rose carefully, stepping between his legs and resting your hands on his broad shoulders. His own hands slid to your waist, holding you there like you were the only thing grounding him in the moment.

“I don’t want to lose you, Lewis.” You sighed, tracing your fingers along the neckline of his shirt. “We have to make this work.”

“We will, I promise,” he replied with confidence, his tone reassuring. “I don’t want to lose you either, ever.”

Your heart stuttered again as he repeated his words from the night before. It was everything you’d always wanted to hear, and he said it with so much sincerity swimming in his warm brown eyes. He would make room for you in his world and never ask you to shrink yourself to fit into it. You would work through it all together.

“So…” he started softly, sounding almost nervous, even now. His thumbs rubbed soft circles at your waist. “You’ll be mine?”

Your breath caught in your throat, a mild sting at your eyes while your belly filled with rushing butterflies. You didn’t hesitate though. You reached up, brushing your fingers along the smooth skin of his cheek before cupping his face with both hands. He leaned into your touch instantly, his long eyelashes fluttering shut, like you were the first thing that had calmed him in weeks.

“All yours,” you smiled, brushing your nose with his gently.

His eyes opened again, crinkling at the edges as his mouth pulled into a grin.

“Are you mine too?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

His arms wrapped a little tighter around you, pulling you in until your foreheads touched. “Always.”

Your lips met a second later, moving together while you both struggled to contain your smiles. You melted into the kiss, your shoulders relaxing in a sensation of relief, while your heart swelled with hope, and pure joy. Lewis held you close as your arms twined around his neck, breathing each other in as your mouths stayed connected, making up for every kiss you’d missed the past month.

“We’re really doing this,” you murmured as though the words surprised even you, when you eventually pulled back.

His breath brushed over your lips when he responded, his eyes sparkling with excitement and almost disbelief that this was your reality now. “We are.”

The two of you remained in the kitchen, sharing soft giggles and peppering kisses between breaths. It felt like home again. 

You stayed wrapped in each other for a while, as if neither of you could believe you were finally here. Truly together this time. When you finally pulled apart, it didn’t feel like you had run out of time. It was a comfort, like you both knew there’d be more moments like this, and you didn’t have to hold onto it so tightly anymore with that ache in your chest.

Eventually, the real world crept in around the edges of your bubble. The smell of cold pancakes and forgotten mugs of coffee on the counter. Neither of you was ready to move just yet, but you did. Together.

The quiet clatter of plates and cutlery was the only sound between you as you cleared the kitchen together, brushing shoulders and glancing over at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking. The air still held the weight of everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, but it had softened now, a warm excitement settling in its place.

You’d agreed to take your time and rebuild this the right way, but the way Lewis kept looking at you, his big hands full of dishes, braids tied back, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his muscular arms, made it all too tempting.

You bit back a smile as you rinsed the last plate, only for him to bump your hip gently with his. Not hard enough to startle you, just to remind you he was still there with his eyes locked on you.

“You’re staring.” You felt a flush spread across your cheeks, not meeting his eyes.

“Can’t help it,” he chuckled as he dried his hands off, handing you the towel once you were done rinsing.

When you looked up, you felt the air around you shift, a slow unfurling in your chest. A familiar flicker danced between you, electric and almost dizzying. You wiped your hands dry and placed the towel back on the counter, suddenly feeling somewhat shy under his gaze.

“Just wondering how I got so lucky,” he added, quieter now.

He reached for you, one hand curling around your waist, fingers splaying like he needed to feel you solid beneath his palm, to know this wasn’t just some dream he’d wake up from.

You could feel the warmth of him in every inch of space you weren’t touching, and the electric current coursing through your veins in the parts you were. You ran your hand up his forearm and over his flexed bicep, looping your arms around his neck. That small space between your lips and his that felt impossibly far, and you wanted nothing more than to close it.

Lewis dipped his head slowly, his lips brushing yours carefully as though you might disappear, and you replied without hesitation. Your knees weakened at the taste of him and your head spun when he drew your body to his. You clutched at the neck of his shirt, needing the anchor, needing him, and he exhaled against your mouth in relief, as though he’d been holding his breath all day.

His addictive lips kissed you deeper this time, like the floodgates had opened and neither of you knew how to stop. Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers curling into the muscle there as if you still couldn’t quite believe he was real.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then back to your lips. “Every day, every night. You were on my mind, every second.”

You nodded against him, eyes closed and your breath shaky. “Me too, you have no idea.”

His thumbs stroked lightly at your side as he kissed you again, and again, each one felt like  reassurance, as though he was trying to rebuild what had broken with his presence.

Your heart swelled, your eyes burning suddenly with emotion you hadn’t expected. “I hated being away from you, felt like I lost you,” your voice trembled on your lips. 

He pressed his forehead to yours again, holding your waist like he didn’t want to let go. “You could never lose me, sweetheart.”

You touched your lips to his in response. There were no words strong enough for the relief rushing through you, no language deep enough to explain the way it felt to have him here again, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world, like someone he never wanted to risk losing again.

His tongue slid against yours, tasting your mouth, and you didn’t even realise your feet had left the ground until you were on the kitchen island, his hands firm around your hips, his body between your legs, fitting against you like it was the only place he wanted to be.

Your legs circled around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him. His hands skimmed your thighs as though he still couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you like this again. You tilted your head back slightly when his mouth found your neck, his warm breath trickling your skin as he whispered your name. 

As you tugged at the fabric of his shirt breathlessly, he broke away just long enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it onto the floor. The light streaming through the kitchen windows reflected the pearls around his neck, and caught the lines of his fit torso, the slope of his shoulders, the glow of his bronze, tattooed skin, the soft curve of his defined lips when he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Still can’t believe you’re mine.” He spoke through his breath, his mouth capturing yours again while his thumbs traced the outline of the waistband on your trackpants.

“And you’re mine.” You giggled softly, lifting your hips to allow Lewis to slide the pants down your legs, as heat stirred in your stomach.

Your bare skin touched back down on the cold surface of the island while his hands made their way up your thighs. His fingers traced the curve of your underwear, before slipping beneath the fabric to run along your soaked core. 

“So wet for me already, baby,” he groaned against your lips, coating his fingertips in your wetness as he relished the feeling of your sensitive parts.

Your breath grew shaky, grasping onto the muscle of his shoulder and leaning back to allow him better access while steadying yourself with your free hand. He built you up slowly, almost teasingly, while his kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck and collarbone. Carefully, he slid a finger into you, followed by a second while his thumb continued to work at your clit, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Lewis asked, enjoying watching you tremble deliciously at his mercy.

All you could do was dig your nails into his shoulder, your eyes falling shut as ecstacy coursed through your body, edging close to your peak. It wasn’t long before you began to tighten around his fingers, and he suddenly removed his hand from you, shocking you from your daze and drawing a whimper from your lips. You watched him in confusion as he quickly removed your underwear, pushed your legs further apart and lifted your feet over his shoulders.

His hot tongue dipped into your folds, licking and swirling at your clit in tantalising motions that worked you back up. Fingers still wet from earlier slipped back into you while his other hand gripped your thigh. You managed to lean back further, holding yourself up against the cold counter while he lapped at your core hungrily, your mind melting into a complete blur at his precise movements.

A hazed whisper of his name left you as your head fell back lightly, your hips grinding onto his mouth and nose. Your toes curled and your stomach tightened, you were so close now.

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he demands against your clit, sucking gently while his tongue flicks. “You taste so fucking good.”

You obeyed, meeting his sparkling eyes with your face flushed as he watched you with hunger, devouring you until you came undone. You shuddered with pleasure crashing over you, sending you over your peak as a breathy moan left your lips. Lewis continued his movements, helping you ride out your high onto his tongue and holding you close to push your high further when the sensitivity that followed overwhelmed you, your body jerking away involuntarily. 

Once you had worked your way down, he removed himself slowly, as if he didn’t want to separate from your core if it weren’t for the ache in his pants. His lips glistened with your wetness coated over his chin and beard, his proud smirk making your stomach flutter. He licked the remainder off his fingertips as you chewed your lower lip, your frantic breaths slowing.

Sitting back up, you reached for his shoulders and pressed your mouth to his in a wet kiss, tasting yourself on him while he tugged you close to the edge of the counter, his warm hands gripping your ass. He lifted you off and moved towards your sofa, taking a seat while you straddled him. You let him undress you further, pulling your top off to reveal your bare torso and running his palms down your back. 

Gently, he cupped a breast and flicked his thumb over your nipple, before taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the sensitive nub. The heat between your legs only grew hotter as you felt his hardness through his pants beneath you, and you wanted nothing more than to have him inside you. 

“Please, Lewis.” You pulled at the waistband of his pants desperately, breathless under his touch.

Lewis chuckled lightly, his voice low as he helped you slip them off. “Greedy girl.”

You gave him a look and grabbed his jaw, lifting your hips as he positioned himself at your slit. A gasp left you both in unison once you sunk down onto his length until he bottomed out inside you, relief and excitement rippling through your bodies. Slowly, you began your movements, grinding against him at first, before raising your hips and dropping down as you built a rhythm. 

He grasped your ass while you rode him, pressing his forehead to yours as his breathing grew ragged. The low groans from his throat only encouraged you further as you slammed back down on him over and over. He was somehow even more beautiful when you were the one making him feel good. The way his brown eyes glazed over in pleasure, his eyebrows knitted together, and his luscious lips fell open, made your heart race as you pushed further.

The friction of your clit against his pelvis sent waves of hot tension pooling in your belly, so you bounced harder and gripped the fabric of the sofa behind him, while your other hand held onto his shoulder. Your lips brushed together, his breath on your skin as you moaned into each other’s mouths over the wet sound of your bodies coming together.

“Baby,” he hissed roughly, his head falling back against the cushion and his face contorting in bliss. “Slow down…you’re gonna make…”

Lewis’ voice was music to your ears as you felt yourself clamp down on him, your clit pulsing and bliss rushing through your veins, leaving only a cry to rip from you. Before you could finish riding out your high yourself, you found yourself laying against the soft cushion of your sofa, under him as he took back his control. He pressed his thumb to your clit and snapped his hips into yours, heightening your pleasure as you ground back against him and clutched the fabric to your side.

Soon after, he lifted your legs higher in order to push deeper into you and tangled your fingers together with his. You squeezed his hand and tilted your chin up to kiss him again, aching to be closer. 

“I missed you so much, Lew,” you breathed, all the emotions of the day flooding you as you poured your adoration into his lips.

“I missed you more, baby, I missed you so much,” he whispered, the words almost broken with sincerity, caressing your hair with his free hand. “I swear, I’ll never hurt you again.”

His eyes searched yours as he spoke, full of care, affection, and commitment, even with his bare body pressed to yours. This time, you believed him. You trusted him. 

Your fingers found his bearded chin, drawing him close and brushing your lips to his while he slowed his rocking to deep, languid movements. His hard length stroked inside you, engulfed by your slick core as he built you both up. You moved together like two halves remembering how to be whole again. It wasn’t long before you felt him throb inside you, and you both gasped in bliss, letting yourselves release with shaky moans.

After a moment, you both eased back onto the couch, still wrapped around each other, the quiet afterglow settling like a soft blanket. Lewis’ hands moved slowly along your spine, drinking you in silently. All that existed in your bubble now was the steady rhythm of your heartbeats in sync, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin, and the sweet way your lips met again.

You traced your fingertips along the ink of the tattoo on his collarbone, your voice low and shy as you murmured, “You know…I’ve felt something for you for a while now too.”

A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he grinned.

“Really?” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Since when?”

A small smile stretched across your face, your cheeks warm when the memories bloomed in your mind.

“Hmm…honestly,” You began, pursing your lips as you thought it over. “Maybe that dinner in Austin. When we talked for hours, you told me about that space documentary you loved. Then you said you were planning to do astronaut training, which is just insane, by the way. But I’d never seen you like that before, that look in your eyes. I think that’s when it really hit me.”

Lewis’ gaze softened, his mouth curling as he recalled the memory. “I remember. You were so sweet, I didn’t want that night to end. I always loved talking to you.”

His fingers found your hair, threading through the strands as he tugged you just a little closer.

“Guess we’ve both been holding out on each other for too long.”

“Too long, yeah.” You laughed softly against his lips.

No more words were needed. The quiet between you filled with a calming sense of hope and relief, as those fading lines between what the two of you had been, and what you were now finally gave way.

And it was just the beginning…

Silverstone came soon after that.

The car had gone quiet as the gates of the paddock loomed ahead, only the low purr of the engine and the tense thrum of anticipation in the air. You sat to Lewis’ side, toying with the chain of your bag and watching through tinted windows as crowds of staff, guests, and media personnel entered the paddock.

Lewis was calm as always, a soft smile across his lips when you arrived at the VIP parking area. One hand rested on the wheel, the other was laced with yours, your fingers threaded together across the console loosely. Roscoe was seated in the back, panting away in excitement to step out of the car.

It had been months since the two of you had made the decision to be together. Life didn’t slow down by any means; Lewis’ race season continued with all the usual travel and pressure, while you found yourself immersed in your own projects. Despite the chaos, you’d spent more time together than ever, small moments of quiet between race weekends, following him to a few races discreetly, small trips and overnight stays that strengthened your bond as a couple.

You kept choosing each other, in the big things as well as the little. It wasn’t always easy though. There were long flights, late nights, and stretches of time apart, but what mattered most was that he always found his way back to you. No unfulfilled promises, but with his presence. In the way he held you when you couldn’t sleep, or how he never let a day go by without reminding you in any way he could, that you meant the world to him.

Lewis chose you, no matter how busy his world got. And every time he did, it made you fall in love with him all over again. 

Now, you were both ready to take the next step. You’d kept your relationship as private as possible, letting it grow and be yours only, but today was the day you stopped hiding. Now, it was time.

Lewis glanced over, stroking his thumb over yours gently. “Ready?”

Your fingers curled tighter around the chain of your bag, your heart thudding loud enough to drown out the noise outside. He noticed your hesitation.

“I can get one of the staff to take you in through the back if you’re not feeling it,” he offered, leaning closer to you, “No pressure, baby.”

His tone wasn’t just kind, it was understanding. He knew exactly how much this meant, how much you were giving him by even being here.

You turned to him, the butterflies in your chest fluttering hard against your ribs. He would never rush you or try to convince you into this. He was giving you an out, and trusting you to make your own choice.

You swallowed with a small nod, squeezing his hand. “No, I want to.”

Relief flickered across his face subtly. He pressed a kiss to your temple, then to your hand, before stepping out of the car. By the time he rounded to your side and opened your door, your palms had gone slightly clammy. Still, you climbed out slowly, blinking against the grey brightness of the British summer light. Lewis didn’t hesitate, lifting Roscoe out, then handing his keys to his assistant with a quiet word, and barely glancing back as the car was whisked away.

Then, you were walking in, together.

The crowd outside the paddock buzzed, your presence drawing attention even before you reached the gates. Scanning your passes, you both crossed the threshold into the Paddock and reconnected. You weren’t holding hands yet, but you walked closely with Roscoe on the other side of Lewis, his tail wagging away as you entered.

You were hyper-aware of everything: the upcoming wall of photographers and media, the buzz of cameras warming up, the click of shutters in rapid fire, and flashes popping as photos were snapped.

The outfit you’d carefully chosen after hours of indecision felt suddenly too noticeable. It was sleek, understated and perfectly tailored to balance the line between elegance and comfort for you. Lewis had helped you choose it, insisting it looked perfect on you. You trusted his eye, especially since he understood exactly what kind of scrutiny came with standing at his side.

As the two of you crossed into the heart of the Paddock, a pack of media swept past on the left, cameras already raised. As the wave of attention swelled, your breath caught and your spine stiffened instinctively. This was it, everyone around the world would know that you were the one who held Lewis’ heart. It was no longer just pictures of stolen, private moments in an airport, it was the two of you stepping into the light proudly, together. That was all it took.

Without a word, Lewis’ hand found yours. He didn’t look at you or make a show of it. Just held on, thumb brushing over your knuckles like a quiet I’m here.

You exhaled through your nose slowly, holding a small smile as you made your way towards the Ferrari motorhome. There were many calls of Lewis’ name around the Paddock, but he never flinched, offering a quick wave or nod when he caught the direction they were coming from.

At the motorhome, the team greeted him with nods and handshakes, a few heads turning toward you and Roscoe, who was enjoying himself being showered in scratches and pats all around. You greeted the team you’d become familiar with, before spotting Lewis’ parents and sharing hugs as you settled in. Lewis soon changed into his race suit once briefings had been completed and it was nearly time to get on the track.

The garage buzzed with motion and noise, tyre covers shifting, the clang of metal tools, voices calling over radios. The scent of asphalt and scorched rubber was one that had grown to feel almost like home.

Lewis emerged in his Ferrari race suit, helmet tucked under one arm. His hair was tied back as usual, revealing his handsome face, his jaw tight, brows drawn in the kind of laser-sharp concentration he wore before every race.

Yet, the moment his eyes found you again in the corner of the garage, everything about him softened. He crossed the garage without hesitation, weaving through engineers and mechanics as if nothing else in the world existed. When he stopped in front of you, his lips stretched into a faint smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice cutting through the chaos like it was only meant for you. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your throat was tight, too full of feeling. You’d never seen him look more like himself and yet so entirely in his element. Calm, sure, and brilliant as always, but now, yours.

“I should be asking you that, it’s your home race,” you shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silverstone was his home race. The one he’d grown up dreaming about, watching from behind barriers long before he'd ever stepped onto the grid himself. The race he’d won nine times already, and was surely on his way to a tenth after qualifying P2.

“You nervous?” you asked softly.

He paused for half a breath, then took a small step closer, close enough for his chest to brush yours, and you could feel the warmth coming off his skin, even through layers of fabric.

A faint breath left him, half a laugh, half an exhale. “Yeah, it just…hits different today.”

“Because it’s home?”

“Because it’s been a rough season, seems like so much keeps going wrong. But I'm hopeful for this one,” he admitted quietly. “And because now you’re here, just makes me want it more.”

You felt your heart ache with a small tug at his honesty and the weight of it all sitting just beneath the surface. 

“I believe in you, Lewis. You’ve won this race nine times before, you can absolutely do it again.” You ran your hand over his chest, his brown eyes lighting up at your confidence in him.

Lewis touched a finger under your chin, his thumb resting beneath your lips as he leaned in, brushing his over yours. “That’s all I need.”

Your fingers held onto the side of his suit lightly, grounding yourself as the rush of background noise faded around you. You wanted to say it, right then. The words were right there, lingering at the tip of your tongue, waiting to spill out. I love you. It caught in your throat, too heavy with meaning to just throw into the noise right now. You wanted it to land at the right time, to mean everything.

Instead, you placed another kiss on his lips. “Good luck, baby.”

He pulled away, warmth in his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that always made you feel like he was letting you in on a secret. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he slowly drifted back as he was called over.

And then he turned, stepped toward the car, and disappeared into the heartbeat of the race.

The race was tense, with Lewis overtaking to lead the race throughout the second half. The final few laps blurred into a rush of sound and colour, your breath catching with every corner, every sector time, your heart in your throat even as the team around you shouted and cheered, willing Lewis across the line first. You thumbed the flower on your bracelet as the anxiety tensed through you.

Then, the explosion of noise. Lewis crossed first. Lewis won.

The garage burst into excitement, engines roaring outside, crew jumping into each other’s arms, radios crackling with congratulations. The team yelled, hugged, threw headsets in the air. The kind of joy that only came with victory, and this one had meant everything. He hadn’t won all season, until now. At his home race.

His voice over the radio made your heart melt, the gratitude and exhilaration as he thanked the team and his supporters for believing in him. Tears had escaped down your cheeks while you watched him on the many screens, waving the Union Jack flag as he pulled in.

You barely registered your own hands shaking until someone touched your arm, gentle yet urgent.

A soft voice beside you called your name, and you turned to see Lewis’ mother Carmen. Her eyes glistened with tears, her cheeks flushed from joy. She took your hand and led you quickly through the chaos and out into the sunlight.

The paddock heat hit you like a wave. The sound of the crowd, the thunder of music and announcements overhead, the crackle of static from race control, it all blurred around you. You could barely breathe through the happiness in your chest.

Below the podium, you saw the sea of red: the Ferrari crew lined along the barrier, arms raised, waiting for their driver.

You barely had time to find your spot as Lewis completed his post race interviews and headed to cool down, before making his way over to your crowd behind the barrier. He was beaming, that bright, boyish, stunned kind of smile that only came from something he thought he might never get back.

He ran past the cameras, past the media, past the security still trying to catch up. He sprinted straight for the team again as he had upon securing his win, laughing and shouting, pulling his engineers and mechanics into wild hugs while others patted him on the back

Then came his parents.

Anthony caught him first, wrapping him into a firm, almost bone-crushing hug, murmuring words you couldn’t hear over the roar or excitement into his ear as he nodded. Carmen threw her arms around him next, kissing his cheeks through tears, smoothing his braided hair as though he was still her boy.

Lewis’ eyes searched for you, and you didn’t move, because the second he saw you, standing just behind the barrier, eyes filled with tears and sunlight, he moved straight to you. His face was flushed, his beautiful eyes shining with more than victory.

When he reached you, he pulled you into him immediately. You didn’t even realise you were crying until his hands cradled the back of your head, dipping his head forward. He was breathless, wild with joy, and as the crowd around you erupted into further celebration, he kissed you. Deep and fast, full of adrenaline, his fingers curling into your hair like he needed to hold onto something solid.

The world around you blurred and you heard the cacophony of camera shutters flood your ears, everyone capturing the moment suddenly.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours briefly, and his voice cracked with emotion. 

“I love you.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, your heart skipping a beat as it raced behind your ribs. You didn’t have time to fully take it in, not with the adrenaline still thundering through your veins, the noise around you, and the cameras flashing. They sank straight through your chest anyway, sharp and soft all at once. Your lips parted, your breath catching, because you felt it too. You’d been feeling it, carrying it around with you, hanging from your tongue and aching to be let out.

You wanted to say it back, but before the words could leave your mouth, he was pulled away,  engulfed by a rush of red and celebration, the team wrapping him in hugs and shouts. You watched him leave, dazed as your fingertips still tingled from where he’d touched you, your mouth still parted with the words you hadn’t been able to give him yet.

He didn’t look back for a response, just saying it had been enough for him.

But for you, the moment hung in the air, because you knew, without question, the very next time you saw him, you were going to say it. You had to.

Before you knew it, there he was again.

Lewis was announced as the winner, and he stepped onto the top step of the podium, the number one painted bold beneath his feet, the crowd’s cheers swelling as he stood tall against the backdrop of flags and ceremony. The anthem hadn’t started just yet, that sacred pause before the world erupted in celebration. In that moment, before a trophy was lifted or champagne was sprayed, his eyes searched the sea of faces in front of him.

His eyes swept across the crowd, taking it in like he always did, until they found you.

Then, everything shifted.

His shoulders eased, his smile softened, love blooming behind his eyes. It wasn’t the usual, dazzling grin he wore for the world or the victory smile.

This one was yours.

He winked down at you and your heart squeezed in your chest, so tight it almost hurt. The tears that had been uncontrollably escaping since the moment he crossed the line welled again. You reached up instinctively, fingers brushing beneath your eyes, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

You blew him a kiss, lips trembling but sure, and mouthed the words that had been lingering on your tongue all day.

“I love you.”

They were three silent words across a sea of celebration, but when they reached him, you saw the way they landed. Somehow, his smile grew even further and you were sure he might pop from all the excitement, especially knowing that the woman he loved, loved him too.

Soon after, champagne burst into the air around him, painting the podium in silver and light. Music blared as he celebrated with everyone, spraying his champagne down into the crowd as you shielded yourself. You caught his eyes again, soaked with celebration.

In the middle of all of it, the history, the headlines, the high of another win, it was still just the two of you.

And this time, you weren’t hiding.

No more grey areas.

No more waiting.

Just you and him.

Out in the light, at last.

Together.

Taglist: @sltwins @ernegren @sher-ni @skzvibes-blog @rageshots @esw1012🤍🤍

[jovialsongdefendor]

Why I Don’t Think Kris Hates the Player – At Least in the Pacifist Route

I’ve seen a lot of people saying that Kris from Deltarune outright hates the player, that they resent us for controlling them. And I get where that idea comes from, after all, there are moments when Kris clearly pulls away from our influence. The way they rip out their soul in the opening sequence is undeniably unsettling. But personally, I don’t fully believe that Kris completely hates the player, especially if you stick to a more pacifist approach.

I think it’s too simplistic to say Kris automatically hates the soul in every scenario. If you consider that the player is essentially an outside force taking control of their body, it’s natural that Kris would be wary or uncomfortable. But being uncomfortable isn’t the same as hating. Over time, especially if you play kindly, I believe Kris at least comes to tolerate and maybe even rely on us a little.

Some of the warmest moments in the game (like when Kris quietly follows along as Susie and Ralsei bond) feel almost like they’re letting us help them navigate a world they don’t fully understand alone. It feels like a fragile partnership rather than pure hostility.

One of the little moments that shows Kris doesn’t totally resent the player happens during the quiz scene with Tenya in Deltarune Chapter 3.

It’s such a small detail, but if you pay attention, it’s very telling. When Tenya asks what Kris’s favorite food is, the possible answers include “Chocolate” and “Pie.” Most players automatically think it’s chocolate because it seems like the obvious, I mean kris like chocolate. But if you wait before selecting, Kris actually coughs softly, almost like they’re trying to get your attention.

That cough is a clue. It’s Kris’s way of subtly nudging you toward the real answer: Pie. This is what their mom, Toriel, bakes for them. It’s part of their identity and their memories.

The fact that Kris helps you here, even just by coughing, says a lot. If Kris truly despised us with no nuance, why would they bother giving any hint? Why not let us embarrass them in front of Tenya and Susie by picking the wrong answer?

I think this moment shows that Kris is willing to cooperate sometimes. They don’t want to be completely misrepresented or misunderstood. Even if they’re not thrilled about being controlled, they’d rather give a little signal than have you say something that feels wrong to them. It’s one of those scenes that makes me think Kris’s feelings about the player are way more complicated than simple hatred.

Another moment that really shows how layered Kris’s feelings about us can be happens in the secret minigame from Chapter 3.

If you’ve played it, you know what I mean—when you enter that hidden arcade cabinet, you control a tiny pixel version of Kris inside the screen. It’s a funny, almost nostalgic moment. But when you finish the game and the little Kris sprite pops back out, something happens: Kris drops the controller.

At first, it just looks like they’re surprised. But if you don’t move right away, you’ll see their expression change. Their face loses color and goes this pale bluish tone, almost like they’re scared or sick. It feels like they’re genuinely afraid of what you’ll do nex, if you’ll make them pick the controller up again, or force them into something they don’t want, or kill them.

But here’s the detail that sticks with me: if instead of approaching Kris, you quietly walk away from the scene, Kris doesn’t go pale. They don’t back away. They just stand there, like surprise? We dont know.

It shows that Kris is always bracing themselves for the possibility that we’ll push too hard. They’re prepared to shut down or recoil if we don’t respect their space. But when we choose to step back and give them time, their fear doesn’t fully take over.

To me, this scene proves again that Kris doesn’t automatically hate us. They’re scared, yes, but their fear seems rooted in uncertainty, not just resentment. It’s like they’re waiting to see if we’ll be kind or invasive. When we respect them, we avoid making them feel that cold, trembling dread. Is like they call us for something in the begining of the game, but scared of what we will do.

Moments like this are why I think Kris’s feelings about the player are complicated. It’s not pure hostility. It’s a cautious, wary hope that maybe, if we’re gentlesharing control doesn’t have to be so frightening.

After Kris get back to taking control, assuming you didn’t walk right up to them or force them into anything, Susie comes into the room. She looks at Kris for a second and then asks, almost casual but with a hint of curiosity:

"You into these kinda games?"

If you didn’t scare Kris before, they won’t look pale or frightened now. They just stand there, calm but a little tense, waiting for what you’ll choose. It’s a big contrast to how they react if you invade their space, they don’t flinch or drop their gaze.

Then, you get a choice: you can tilt Mini-Kris’s sword cursor to “Yes” or “No.”

If you pick No (by turning the blade away) Susie shrugs, walks over, and unplugs the arcade controller herself. She says:

"Then don’t play it."

And the mini kris disappears.

This moment connects to something bigger: the relationship between Kris and the player. The question isn’t just what we want, it’s what Kris wants, and whether we’ll ever respect that boundary.

And this idea comes back again during the Spantom fight later on. When Spantom gets his strings cut, he collapses limp—like a puppet whose master lost interest. It feels unsettling, because it makes you wonder:

If we ever get bored of Kris, if we let go of the “controller” or decide we’re done, would they fall the same way?

Just another empty body, waiting for someone else to pull the strings.

Nobody really knows the answer. But the way the game sets up these parallels, Kris’s fear of being forced, Susie stepping in to unplug the controller, Spantom’s body hitting the floor, makes it clear that being controlled is something that haunts Kris, what if we get bored of them.

And it’s why I don’t believe Kris hates us outright. They’re scared of what happens if they lose themselves completely. They’re scared of if we complete deltarune, they will stop existing all togueter.

Maybe the scariest part of that scene—and honestly, of Deltarune as a whole—isn’t just Kris’s fear of being controlled.

It’s the fear of what happens if we stop.

When Susie unplugs the controller and tells Kris, "Then don’t play it," there’s a strange, heavy silence. For a second, it feels like Kris is relieved, like maybe they have a little more say in their own life. But right after, when you remember how Spantom falls, a worse thought creeps in:

What if Kris doesn’t only hate losing control, what if they’re terrified of having no purpose at all? Remember the boss in this secret minigame that sayed a part of kris enjoyed this?

Spantom’s body drops like a lifeless doll the moment its strings are cut. It’s not struggling. It’s not resisting. It’s just gone.

That image echoes something unsettling about Kris. If we, the player, decide to close the game, to turn away and never come back, what happens to them?

Does Kris stand there forever in a blank room, waiting for someone to move them again? Do they feel their consciousness fading like Spantom’s, becoming nothing but an empty shell? Or are they trapped in a half-dream, aware that we’re gone but unable to act?

So, in my view, while there’s always an undercurrent of tension between Kris and the player, the pacifist route suggests that a small level of trust can grow if we’re careful not to push them too far.

[drtyelvisfantasy]

OH BABY, BABY

CHAPTER FIVE

note: I'm sorry for such a long wait, I finally got on summer break so im just trying to get settled. please like, reblog and share

warnings: swearing, infidelity, abandonment issues, pregnancy

It’s been a couple of months, and now I’m 32 weeks pregnant. Rafe said he’s coming down for two months to help with the baby and be there for the birth, which I really do appreciate. But honestly… I’ve been feeling pretty down. I love being a mom, and I’m so happy to have my daughter, but I never got to have any of the fun stuff other moms get—no baby shower, no gender reveal, nothing like that. It’s hard not to feel left out. I’ve felt so alone through all of this.

But in the middle of all that, there’s at least one thing I can smile about, we finished the nursery. Rafe helped me get it all set up before the due date, and it actually looks beautiful. It’s the one space that feels ready, that feels peaceful. And right now, that means everything.

—

When Margaret and I first moved to Florida, Rafe straight-up lied to Sofia about landing a work contract here—and she was clueless enough to buy it

When he left for Florida this time, Rafe said Sofia stood in the doorway, arms crossed, firing off a hundred questions, but never once raising her voice. She never told him not to go. Just stood there, silently watching him zip up a bag full of lies.

“Contract work,” he said.

“Same utility company. They’re stretched thin down there. I’ll be in and out a lot.”

Apparently, she just nodded. Like she didn’t believe him but didn’t want to hear the truth either.

“How long’s the job?” Sofia asked.

“A couple of weeks at a time,” Rafe replied.

“You gonna be reachable?” she pressed.

“Of course,” he said.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time on the phone lately,” she said lightly, almost as if she’s making conversation. “Florida must be keeping you busy.”

Rafe glanced over his shoulder and gave a half-smile. “Yeah, just tying up a few things before things get hectic. You know how it is.”

She nodded, slowly. “Mm-hmm. Must be nice having people down there who can help with everything.”

There was a pause. Brief, but it settled between them.

“I guess I just didn’t realize how often you were talking to them,” she added casually, her tone still warm but a little too even. “You’ve been real… consistent.”

Rafe chuckled, but it felt forced. “Just work, Sof. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m not,” she said with a soft smile. “Just… curious.”

She pushed off the doorframe and walked toward the kitchen, her heart ticking a little faster—but her face calm, unreadable.

He told me later she lingered longer in the bedroom than usual—sat on the edge of the bed while he showered, the steam fogging up the mirror. She didn’t ask as many questions this time. Didn’t need to.

Because when he came out of the bathroom, towel around his waist and toothbrush hanging from his mouth, she wasn’t there.

But his phone was buzzing.

She picked it up and put it back down, deliberately leaving it exactly as she’d found it — unlocked, face-up, screen still glowing.

And that’s when she saw it.

My message.

(954) 623-8174: “Call me before you head out. Margaret wants to say goodnight.”

He didn’t notice the phone had moved.

Didn’t notice that she'd written something down and tucked it deep into her wallet.

My number.

She didn’t scream.

Didn’t throw it in his face.

Didn’t even flinch.

She just waited until he left.

—

It’s been a day since Rafe got here. Late at night now—Margaret’s asleep upstairs. Rafe and I sit on the couch, and he tells me Sofia’s suspicions are starting to grow. He can feel it—like a weight hanging in the air between them.

"Sofia’s getting suspicious. I can feel it." 

I glanced at him, heart tightening.

Rafes expression turns serious as he continues. 

Rafe’s expression darkens as he goes on. “She’s noticed the phone calls. She’s starting to put two and two together.”

“Fuck, I knew this was gonna happen,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes. “Do you think she knows?”

"Not yet. But she’s close. I can tell. And it’s only a matter of time before she figures something out."

“So what’s gonna happen to us?” I ask. 

Rafe’s face tightens with irritation, his voice sharp. “Nothing’s going to happen to us. I’m still married to Sofia, and that’s not changing anytime soon.”

I stare at him, disbelief and anger rising.

“So what, I’m just gonna be your pregnant mistress until you decide to call it quits with her? Are you fucking serious?”

Rafe’s irritation sharpens into anger, his jaw tightening as he feels cornered by my words.

“Don’t say that. I care about you, but I can’t just leave Sofia—you knew that from the start.”

“I remember what you promised,” I say, my voice breaking as the tears come. “You said we could run away. Start a new life. I remember what you told me.”

Rafe sighs heavily, his frustration growing.

“I know what I promised,” Rafe says, his voice low. “But you know it’s not that simple.”

A heavy silence hangs between us.

“And you knew about Sofia from the start,” he adds. “You knew I wasn’t ready to leave her. You knew we could never be together… not in the way you wanted.”

“I can’t—goodness, I just can’t do this right now. It’s too much,” I say, my voice shaking. “I don’t want to go into labor over this.”

I stand up from the couch, wiping at my face. “Good night.”

Rafe looks taken aback by the firmness in my voice, like he’s just now realizing he pushed too far.

“Wait—don’t be like that,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to get worked up. Can we just talk about this?”

“Tomorrow, Rafe,” I say, already walking away. “Not now.”

—

I wake up the next morning to silence. No sound of Rafe snoring beside me, no clatter from Margaret in the kitchen—just stillness. The kind that makes your chest feel a little heavier.

Panic creeps in as I reach for my phone and call Rafe, afraid he might’ve left again without saying a word.

Rafe picks up, his voice low and a little hushed.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I just dropped Margaret off at school,” he says casually, not picking up on the tension. “Why?”

“I was just wondering, that’s all.”

“Is everything okay? You sound… worried.”

“I’m just tired,” I say quietly.

His tone softens.

“Okay. We’ll talk later. Get some rest, alright? You sound exhausted.”

“Okay. Bye,” I say gently, then end the call.

Rafe says goodbye and hangs up, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I push myself up from the bed, wincing as the weight shifts to my swollen feet. Every step aches, and the discomfort of being this pregnant is starting to wear me down. I just want it to be over. I just want the baby here already.

I make my way to the kitchen and open the fridge, scanning for something—anything—that doesn’t make me nauseous. There’s a fruit platter I remember picking up a couple days ago. I grab it, take a seat at the table, and start picking at it in silence.

As I sit at the table, picking at the fruit, my phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number. I hesitate, staring at the screen. Who could it be? After a moment, I decide to answer.

“Hello?” I say, but there’s only silence.

“Hello? Who is this?” I ask again, my voice a little sharper now. Still nothing—just silence. But then I hear it: faint breathing on the other end.

The hairs on my neck rise.

“If you’re not going to talk, then… then don’t call me again,” I say, trying to sound firm, even though my voice wavers.

There’s a pause—long enough to make me hold my breath. And then the line goes dead.

I lower the phone slowly, staring at it. The silence in the kitchen feels heavier now. Whoever it was didn’t speak, but the call leaves me more unsettled than before… and wondering what they wanted.

I sat there in the kitchen, my breath coming in shallow bursts. One hand gripped the edge of the table, the other slid instinctively to my belly. The baby kicked—slow, strong, steady.

Whoever it was on the phone… it wasn’t nobody. I knew that.

And suddenly, the house didn’t feel quiet anymore. It felt watched.

[ao3commentoftheday]

hi, first of all thank you so much for running this blog! i've followed you for a quite a while now and i can't express enough how helpful it has been!

i think this is more of a little confession than an ask, i guess i just want to get some stuff off my chest. feel free to ignore this though because i dont think what i'm about to say here is something that hasn't been said before, now that i've scrolled your blog for like an hour or so.

i've never written really consistently, same goes for my other stuff like art or vid editing. i feel like having a solid plot isn't really my strong suit so i usually just stick to oneshots where there are little actions but a lot of feeling lol, and even with that i have drafts and bullet points from 5 years ago that i haven't touched. there's a lot of struggle with finishing things as well, wips of all kind just keep accumulating and i just feel so guilty over that, especially when i get the idea for something new. i suppose the more i internalize that the more i get intimidated by the mere thought of starting anything at all.

so recently i got a new shiny idea of a multichapter fic, its scope is larger than anything i have ever written or attempted to, and it has plot. i have basically spent weeks trying to piece together a string of plot, setting up characterization and all that jazz. i got pretty ambitious with how the story unfold, so there is considerably more prepping than ever.

i'm now writing the pilot chapter, and honestly it is getting frustrating. i know you have mentioned speedrunning to jump straight into "the good bits" before, but there's just this strange obligation to the opening that i can't quite shake off. i also set up this mental quota for words count, and seeing myself spending days and still not reaching that number is very disheartening.

realistically, i can see many recommending slowly building up my writing, like just biting what i can chew and enlarge the bite as i go. but the idea of shelving this one feels bad, and i wanna ride the high before i start losing interest and eventually look back on this project with some sort of bitter regret like many others. i know the saying about projects not disappearing and i can always pick up from where i left it, but my mind doesn't seem to be happy with that, and this is worsened be the reminder of my other several-year-old abandoned fic.

sorry for the whole rambling. i am aware that this is a mindset problem and i have issues with instant gratification. it just i was so excited during the planning phase and now the actual writing is so stagnant that i feel like im losing hope for a breakthrough. and i couldn't even ramble to anyone about the plans because most of my friends aren't into what i'm writing for/the particular character i'm centering this fic around i'm scared that i'm gonna bother them; i am not actually active in the fandom and joining a server makes me insanely anxious. the whole thing just feels more and more like digging a hole for myself and lie there.

again i am so sorry for the rambling this got out of hand! i hope you have a good day!

Oof. Deep breath, anon! It's okay 💗

You've got several things in this ask that I want to have a quick chat with you about, but feel free to jump to the end if what I'm saying isn't hitting for you.

I want to start by addressing your little personal history that you gave up at the top. This is something that I hear from a lot of people about various hobbies, not just writing. We feel guilty when we don't finish a project. We feel bad when we stop doing something when it stops being fun.

That's normal. That's a perfectly fine choice to make with how you spend your free time. Just because school and work both require you to finish projects doesn't mean that your hobbies require that too. Just because your parents said you couldn't give up on [insert hobby here] because it cost so much for your lessons or equipment etc. doesn't mean that you have to hold yourself to that same standard when you're the one paying your own bills. Besides, writing is free.

Be a little kinder to yourself and a little more forgiving when you DNF a fic. You're allowed to quit writing as much as you're allowed to quit reading. If it sucks, hit da bricks.

Related to that idea is the way you talk about "struggling to finish fics." Of course you struggle with doing something that you're bored or frustrated with. If the story itself isn't more interesting than the struggle why would you continue with it? Keeping yourself motivated isn't just about energy. It's also about passion. When it comes to a hobby, the only person pushing you to finish a thing is you. And when you're tired after working all day or after finishing a full day of school, you don't want to start writing a fic that feels like homework. You want to work on a fic that feels like play.

It sounds like you got that play feeling from creating the plan for your story. Whatever you were doing at that stage was keeping your passion alive. So what's changed since you shifted from planning to writing?

If you've created a strict outline that you're now trying to follow then it might feel like you're doing homework or just filling in boxes in the fic-writing factory. Try to find places where you can still make creative decisions as you go, where you haven't got things all planned out in advance. Put a little "choose your own adventure" back into your storytelling and that passion might come back.

Try investigating that "obligation to the opening" as well. What's the cause of that? Was the first scene the one that prompted the rest of the story? Are you trying to do the tone setting and worldbuilding there? What expectation have you put in place for yourself, and is there a way to shift that expectation to later in the fic? What's the most basic version of that opening that you can write to get it down on the page? You can go back later to add more to it if you still think it needs it.

One thing to remember when you're writing a large, complex story is that the reader doesn't need to know anywhere near as much as you do. You can figure out 10 books worth of backstory and worldbuilding and relationship history that informs what you put on the page, but you don't actually have to write it all down if the reader doesn't need to know all of the ins and outs. And if you want, you can always create a companion fic on the side where you do go into deep dives or missing moments etc. when those things ignite a spark inside you.

When it comes to word count, though? Throw. That. Idea. In. The. Garbage. The number of words you use has nothing to do with the quality of the story that you're telling. It's a number that you've clearly put some kind of meaning into, but saying that a 100K fanfic is better than a 20K fanfic is kind of like saying that a 6ft tall person is better than a 5ft tall person based solely on their respective heights. It makes no sense!

I'll get off that particular soap box now, anon, but I do hope that you'll be kinder to yourself. You're beating yourself up in a dozen different ways and none of them are a good reason to be so mean to the most important person in your life: yourself. ❤️

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

medialog june 2k25

books

ok first of all to address the element in the room: i have not in fact finished moby dick lmao. however i’m more than halfway through and very comfortable reporting that it’s one of the most brain-meltingly incredible books ever written. anyway moving on to: The Month All My Libby Holds Came In Despite Looking Like It Was Going To Be Spaced Out A Lot More, Oops, Listening And Learning For The Future

jake bernstein, the laundromat: inside the panama papers investigation of illicit networks and the global elite - kind of dry if you, like me, are a money idiot and have a lot of trouble keeping track of or feeling like you truly understand financial crimes even when people are laying them out in very clear detail… however i feel like i have the important ideas down of what the panama papers even were now, which was not the case before i read this book! also i did find it picked up once it started getting into the investigative element of how this all became public, which ultimately wound up involving an unprecedented level of cross-border journalistic cooperation, which was very cool to read about. also one thing the book doesn’t really delve into but that i was left wondering about was the extent to which tax haven countries are often extremely small countries that don’t have much going on economy-wise… there was one example of a place that only changed its laws after new zealand agreed to just give it the money it would lose from the end of the industry, because it made up such a huge part of its budget.

sarah wynn-williams, careless people: a cautionary tale of power, greed, and lost idealism - wynn-williams chooses an opening anecdote that makes her seem unbelievably annoying and unsympathetic, and not in a way where it feels self-aware — like the vibe is very much that she thought this would be a fun hook to introduce us to the sheer bizarreness of her time at facebook, but the story involves her trying to swap zuck’s assigned seat at some international function with the spots of various ACTUAL PRESIDENTS of less important (“less important”) countries, so it’s like, well everyone sucks here… she should have just led with the anecdote about being mauled by a shark as a child and almost dying because her parents thought she was just being a baby about post-shark-attack pain, which i’m not sure is doing the explanatory work she wants it to be doing but which i can’t blame her for including because if that happened to me i too would put it in my book just because. anyway i’m not sure she’s the most reliable narrator and i think this review about what’s not in the book is an important companion, but tbh i read this for tech gossip about terrible people and i got sheryl sandberg lying on facebook about almost being in a plane that crashed and the fact that facebook employees let mark win at settlers of catan so often that when someone beats him he accuses them of cheating so… can’t really complain. most of the inner workings of facebook stuff is either already public knowledge (but still upsetting - i knew about their shit with targeting ads to teens who expressed sad feelings but it still almost hurt my stomach to read about) or easily inferred from everything we know about the company culture of Every Tech Company On Earth, but reading it all at length does really hammer home just how evil this company is, especially the chapter on myanmar, which does contain what i believe are some new revelations (such as the fact despite myanmar being the only company that really picked up facebook’s “let us help you get the internet” offer, the company had one burmese speaker doing content moderation for ages, and oh, by the way, for years the official facebook app was never available for download in myanmar, making reporting hateful content… literally impossible???). it’s also very clear from the book that mark zuckerberg is not only evil but also a huge embarrassing loser and thus i feel that the streisand effecting of this very book is a net positive if only because he definitely cares, like, a lot.

beverly gage, g-man: j. edgar hoover and the making of the american century - i wanted to read this because hoover had come up in killers of the flower moon and seemed like such a weirdo i desperately needed to know more, and, 700+ pages later, i do! this book is very much a biography, concerned with tracking hoover’s actions and motivations across his life more than delving deep into analysis or interpretation, but i would say there is a central argument to the overall project, and it’s an important one: that the (mostly late-in-life or posthumous) villainization of hoover, personally, as a machiavellian schemer of unique evil or harm elides the fact that the vast majority of what hoover did, he did at the behest of or with the knowledge of the eight presidents he served under and/or others in positions of federal power, and painting hoover as the mustache-twirler in the shadows essentially lets the US government off the hook. gage sets this argument out in the introduction, returns to it consistently, and builds a compelling case for it, ranging from the fact that FDR was the first person to ask hoover to look into rumors of government homosexuality around a federal official to the fact that bobby kennedy straight-up lied about whether he’d okayed the MLK wiretaps when the FBI had his signature on the forms. hoover was involved with SO much shit that at one point i told @rgr-pop this book was like evil forrest gump, which means that anything you’re more than passingly familiar with will probably feel somewhat glossed over or ignored, but when i thought about the things i happened to know more about than appeared in the book, i felt like the key Insight Into Hoover that those episodes provided ultimately came through somewhere else in the book. the breadth of it was also sort of nice for me as a lapsed history lover back in my books era, because it wound up providing kind of a useful refresher on many major twentieth century developments. also, i might make a post at some point just listing stuff that’s stuck with me or that i want to remember or found interesting or funny or whatever, but i case i don’t, i DO want you all to know that YES, hoover was… SUPER gay. canon gay homophobe. IRL roy cohn “i am not a homosexual i am a straight man who has sex with other men” vibes. a lot going on there.

matthew hongoltz-hetling, the ghost lab: how bigfoot hunters, mediums, and alien enthusiasts are wrecking science - i read this book after an interview in NYMag’s newsletter + a scan of goodreads reviews suggested there was paranormal community gossip to be had (as in, several reviews were like “too much focus on the interpersonal issues of these people he’s interviewing”), and on that front it delivered, tracing the rise and fall of a would-be research center for paranormal phenomena formed by a motley crew of wounded and curious denizens of new hampshire. i love to read about both paranormal phenomena, from the stuff that scans to me as Inherently Wacky to the stories that give a little thrill of “wow, that sure is one spooky coincidence… i mean… what if…???” and this book contains plenty of both, plus a lot of drama about what brought these people together and how their internecine resentments and opposing worldviews drove them apart. fun stuff. however i found all of hongoltz-hetling’s analysis about What This All Means For Society to be really QUITE bad. his argument, such as i could track it, sort of rests on the idea that paranormal beliefs are both a consequence and a driver of falling institutional trust and increasing importance being given to the individual. you may already spot some problems here such as “what institutions are we talking about here exactly?” - a problem the book does not resolve, as sometimes “institutions” means, like, church and science, two options for e.g. answers to questions about death and its aftermath, but sometimes it’s used more or less interchangeably with “evidence-based” which… lol? like i don’t really understand how a person could have lived through the creationism wars and write this book. (also the idea of the individual experience taking primacy over institutional knowledge is one with ummmm some history of consequence in the history of christianity… lol?) he refuuuuuuses to engage with any kind of context that doesn’t align with his thesis - like, he talks about the shuttering of mcintosh college, part of new hampshire’s public university system, but mentions only in passing, to dismiss as insufficiently explanatory, the fact that perhaps some non-“trust” based reasons had to do with the tanking enrollment of a college in 2009, such as the fact that the university had been purchased a decade earlier by a for-profit group, or the fact of ummm everything else happening in 2009 lol. he also mentions a decline in law school enrollment as an example of institutional decline which made me laugh because i remember like a decade ago if not longer reading blogosphere-era posts about how law schools were graduating more lawyers than there were law jobs, to a life-ruining degree for the unlucky many who couldn’t find work in the field… the school stuff annoyed me in particular because it was so reflective of the general incoherence that plagues ed discourse, but also the law school thing is indicative of another weird omission he mentions only briefly, which is the idea that trust in certain reasons may be down for like… rational reasons lol. like he cites a study about decline in government trust happening from 2001 to 2021… ok… can we think of aaaaanything that happened in those two decades that may have caused this other than “people value the individual experience too much”? like… be serious. he also basically doesn’t talk about the internet AT ALL, either as a force for turning paranormal believers into paranormal communities or as an engine for disseminating distrust both through misinformation and through a wider reach of facts that make it reasonable to distrust e.g. the federal government… he includes reincarnation as an example of a fringe paranormal belief despite the fact that it is in fact an institutional tenet of several major world religions… unserious. quite unserious. but reading about their little exorcisms and personality conflicts was fun.

movies

problemista - rewatched this with a friend, this movie makes me feel more alive than almost anything and is still so funny even my third time seeing it

glengarry glen ross - this movie is funny and looks great and features a lot of great actors doing great work and also the last 15 minutes or so will make your stomach hurt soooooo bad. al pacino really might be the most engrossing film actor of all time, i could truly watch him do anything and be entranced.

captain america: brave new world - at one point in this movie sam wilson says out loud "mind control. he created a technology that allowed him to control the minds of anyone he targeted" and i've been laughing about that all month. mind control: he found a way to control minds. incredible. the rest of the screenplay is about that bad but unfortunately not that unintentionally funny; this really is the least one of these movies has ever been a movie. sebstan innocent ofc but man i can't believe they dragged tim blake nelson into this

mountainhead - jesse armstrong’s first post-succession work has not been well received because everyone is over jokes about how comically, hyperbolically evil and stupid tech bros are, but i’m not and i had fun! on letterboxd i compared this to the luke combs fast car, in that it’s obviously not a transcendently powerful work of art the way the original/succession is, but, you know, you’re not always in the mood for art that makes you want to kill yourself. would maybe have liked to see someone else in the jason schwartzman role… he was a little go girl give us nothing for me

pee wee as himself - this is pretty whatever As A Piece Of Documentary Filmmaking and i feel like the filmmaker thought his tension with paul reubens’s control issues would be more interesting to the viewer than it actually was, but reubens is a really great person to spend some time hanging out with even if you were never a pee-wee person, especially if you like (1) art talk (2) gay stuff.

dark waters - really underrated/slept on paperwork movie that will make you want to burn dupont HQ to the fucking ground. something about this one even more than other exemplars in the investigative documents movie genre (erin brokovich, the insider) really brings home the pain and rage at the heart of a story like this… i feel like a lot of credit goes to director todd haynes for turning a quite competent but pretty standard into a movie that just vibrates with a kind of suffocating dis-ease. slight points docked for wasting anne hathaway in the absolute most Wife Role of all time but this one really moved me, much more than i expected at the start or even by the middle of the movie. also looks fucking great to my idiot eye - just enough interesting visual choices to make you notice, without ever feeling showy - lots of great colors, often in the shadows…

in the spirit - this is an almost never seen indie movie by elaine may’s daughter jeannie berlin (probably best known on tumblr as succession’s cyd peach), starring may and marlo thomas as a cynical socialite and a daffy new ager who wind up on the run from the mob. it’s not a lost gem the way may’s own the heartbreak kid is (which features berlin - if you ever have a chance to catch a screening of this movie you MUST go) but there were some real good laughs, although none of them quite reached the level of the moment in the Q&A where elaine may, a ninety-three year old jewish woman, told, and i mean this, the funniest holocaust joke i have ever heard. inspirational, honestly

in the loop - do you like veep and/or succession and/or politics jokes and/or C-list character actors? then you will like this movie. if you like all four of them, like i do, you will like it very much!

lady vengeance - not as deliriously fun and spellbindingly entertaining as the handmaiden, but (a) what is and (b) i found myself really, really stunned by it by the end… it almost feels like a movie that decided to take on the challenge of using a familiar set up - a woman, newly released from jail, plots to take her revenge - and then fucking it up as much as possible while still telling that story. despite, at core, resting on one of the oldest and tropiest of old tropes, i felt like i never had any idea where this story was actually going - it kept startling me, but never because of a “twist” or for shock value… just because, well, wait, that’s not usually how this part goes… i’m not explaining this well. it’s a powerful movie - and while it’s darker and heavier and more disturbing than the handmaiden, it is fun - sometimes even funny - and absolutely gooorgeous to look at, with an incredible aesthetic sensibility

in the mood for love - this movie comes up a lot as one of the best movies of all time and… well… it is! what really struck me watching it and reflecting on it was something i wasn’t necessarily expecting, which is that it captures a visceral sense of urban living better than almost anything else i’ve seen — this movie feels so crowded, always, everybody living cheek-by-jowl, which really works for a movie that is in part about the paradox of feeling deeply lonely but never being able to be truly alone… really beautifully rich to look at, and speaking of beautiful, you would be hard pressed to find a better-looking leading pair than tony leung and maggie cheung, who together do some of the best Eyes Acting i’ve ever seen… i thought about both edith wharton’s the house of mirth (for oppressive social mores) and portrait of a lady on fire (for a love story that can’t matter but still matters) while watching this, which, if you know anything about me, tells you i was really in.

the people's joker - this is a queer/trans coming-of-age story using the world of batman stories as a vehicle to talk about gender, toxic relationships, and the scariest villain of all: lorne michaels. very tumblrcore movie, which is at times a weakness (i didn't mind the checklist of toxic romantic traits but the callback later literally phrased as "remember, kids: this isn't romantic!" was a little over the line for me personally) but is also the source of much of the movie's ample delights, both in terms of its wild swerving ambition and in terms of its sense of humor. this is clearly a movie made for ten dollars by a bunch of weird little freaks with a real vision and sensibility, and it always feels good watching something like that be made real, especially when there are also good jokes; if i say that i want writer/director/star vera drake to be just a little less online (not that much! which is saying a lot because this movie is pretty fucking online and for the most part it strikes the balance well!), it's because her aesthetic and formal creativity and inventiveness is so clear and so cool and i just want to be able to vibe the whole time with that instead of noticing the moments where it feels like she let a twitterbot take over. (a good reminder for many of us tbh.) i think she's mostly a comedian and it seems like this movie happened somewhat unexpectedly, but i really would love to see another movie from her.

other

gypsy - the ads outside the theater called this the greatest american musical which is a bold claim but honestly… maybe valid. which is not to say that it’s my new favorite, or that the music is something i’ll have on repeat very often just as a matter of personal taste… but there are zero bad songs in this show and it’s about as impeccably structured a piece of musical drama as i’ve ever seen. like, it’s a contender for greatest american musical in the sense that’s made by people who have a perfect understanding of what this strange hybrid form is, what its strengths are, and how to wield them to maximize how effectively you’re telling your story. it was also at time genuinely really disturbing to watch after reading jennette mccurdy’s memoir, which is a compliment about how well it understands the psychology of the stage mom (although this artifact of my reading history did make the ending a little more challenging to appreciate lol). i thought the production was pretty great and audra mcdonald did some of the best musical theater acting i’ve ever seen, so much so that you understand why they accepted the inevitable vocal struggles of casting a soprano in a role made famous by ethel merman (close personal friend, i am not making this up, of j. edgar hoover)

atoms for war and peace @ poster house - extremely cool exhibition of nuclear propaganda (pro and anti) plus some classic nuclear kitsch (one of the blurbs made a reference to “the house in the middle,” which delighted me). we went for this because of me and the way i am but lucked out that it coincided with exhibitions of a set of cute subway cartoons & a cool puerto rican poster artist, plus a set of gig posters… strong rec if you’re in nyc! poster house is free on fridays or the third sunday of the month!

DSA fundraiser comedy show - went to this because a friend suggested it when we were making plans and was pleasantly surprised that it was actually funny! i think that’s a first for me and stand-up in NYC lmao. one point for the socialists! NO thanks to the absolutely horrendous audience member who wasn’t exactly a heckler but like just thought he was in conversation with everyone on stage even though the hosts told him to stop doing that in their intro and even though he got called out by two separate comics later on AND ALSO he was dead center in the middle of the room on his phone with the screen brightness cranked up to jesus the entire time. one of the most astounding displays i’ve ever seen by a person who just wants the world to know “hey: i have a terrible, terrible personality.” but like i said the comics were pretty good. special shout out because it’s technically still pride month to the lesbian comic with two moms who had a very cute riff about how growing up with two moms was hard because she never knew if she was being a rebellious teenager or just homophobic 😂😂😂

music

kind of regret singling out sorry mom’s “youngstown” earlier this year because my song of the month was absolutely the closing track of their new EP, which fills me with the kind of wistful ebullience (ebullient wistfulness?) that guarantees a spot on my forever faves list:

but in the interest of diversity, here’s a bonus song rec in the form of the poppiest, catchiest track from the yeule album, which has led to many intra-household texts reading simply “dudu dudu dudu dudu dudu dudu dudu dudu”:

katy rose, fully alive - this just didn’t sound very good unfortunately

julia wolf, PRESSURE - this actually sounded ok and i got excited during the first couple upbeat tracks but it did not sustain my interest

beach bunny, tunnel vision - remember in may when i kept listening to stuff and being like “this is ok but why isn’t it the 2015 chumped album teenage retirement”? it turns out i should have just been listening to this - sturdy female-fronted power-pop with decent hooks and a lead vocalist with just enough frailty in her overall clear voice to make it all feel nicely human.

yeule, evangelic girl is a gun - you may know yeule as the artist responsible for the anthems for a 17-year-old girl cover in i saw the TV glow, but it turns out they are also very good at their own songs, which have an ambient off-kilterness but are clearly made by someone with an ear for a pop likability. i also like that they have publicly claimed avril lavigne as an influence because i literally think all the time about how whatever you think of her it just is a matter of undeniable fact at this point that let go (2002) changed the game forever…

sorry mom, bummer! - my favorite scrappy punk act put out a four-song all-killer no-filler EP that brings down the volume, tempo, and vibe for something moodier and more indie-inflected than their previous work, and i loooooooove it, one of my favorite things i’ve heard all year - grabbed me emotionally instantly in a way that took me off guard even given my previously established fandom. i just really love their ear for melodies and juno’s husky-sweet voice, and the way that they’re continuing to explore the sonic ambition they first explored with last year’s "but i’m a quarterback…" the opening track of this one builds instrumentally in a really cool way and the closer is, as mentioned above, already one of my favorite tracks of the year.

lorde, virgin - i don’t know, guys. i was really worried the album would be bad, because i didn’t hate any of the singles but i didn’t LOVE any of them either, and i sensed certain dangers lurking re: the refusal to smash, but i was like, well maybe it’s a conceptual thing and they’ll make more sense as part of a capital-p Project, everyone knows lorde is an albums artist… and they do, and she is, and my first listen was really colored by relief that the album wasn’t bad… but… i don’t know. there’s just something… not quite there. i don’t think any of the songs are bad, and i like some of them quite a bit (“shapeshifter” the definite stand-out for me). there are moments, listening to the album, where i’m like, wow this is great. but… not that even. kind of fleetingly. i keep waiting for her to kick it to 11, and she just… won’t. and maybe this is on purpose — that’s certainly what i assumed when “what was that” came out, that it was a song about a kind of inner wrestling and so she decided to avoid the catharsis of something like “green light” — and… you know… maybe she decided to do that for the whole album. but… if she did, then that’s two albums in a row where she’s like, “i am deliberately leaving out the parts of music that are fun to listen to.” which… follow your truth… but… i like it when music is fun. and then, also… it doesn’t actually sound like an album that is deliberately un-fun and confrontational, either? there’s nothing on this album as abrasive as, say, brat’s “club classics,” or as just fucking weird as many of the tracks on kesha’s gag order… but there’s also nothing as catchy as “360,” or as viscerally affecting as “eat the acid.” the balance of lorde’s pop girl status and weird girl instincts, which has always been the source of her power, just feels off. it’s avoiding the crank-it-to-eleven power of pop (or even, mostly, the… fun hooks to listen to… part of pop…), but it’s not replacing it with something really out there or bold… just with like… more synthpop. and that synthpop is like… i dunno. like i listen to it and i’m like “oh i like this musical idea”... but none of it really digs in or makes me go crazy, you know? so… maybe the production is bad? it can’t convey the rawness, grossness, power, etc. lorde clearly wants the album to hold… idk. i feel like i want her to either start a band to get some actual sounds in there or hook up with someone in the hyperpop world. pick a lane!!! we’ll see if i turn around on it (i do like "shapeshifter" a lot and i listened to it while writing this because hammer was stuck in my head) but if not see you in four years i guess.

common holly, anything glass - i feel like if i say “the platonic idea of coffeehouse music” that sounds like a diss… but i mean it in a good way!!! this album is really pretty!!!

[xmochacoffeex]

Chapter 2

The next day, it was already the afternoon as Reader and Lisa had just finished classes, she had made sure to text Alfred that she would be walking home again. “So how was the test, Reader? Do you wanna hear my results? Do you?” Lisa asked

“I have more important things on my mind right now.” Reader said, while she did score good on her test it just not a higher score than Damian.

Lisa sighed, “I know you’re busy and all, but don’t go flunking any tests, okay? I want us both to graduate together.”

“Low grades mean extra study and less time for music. I won’t let that happen.”

“I guess you’re right.” She let out a chuckle, “you really are busy recently though, huh. Every day, another new live house..”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going there to sing, right? You’re not on stage every day though, are you…?

Reader looked away with a sadden glance at the ground, as it still bring back bad memories

“…Hey. I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but… you are still looking for band members, aren’t you?” Lisa asked

“Of course. Entries are already open for the festival contest. Three people per band. This year, I will find them.”

“Still, though, I mean…!”

“I will find them… I have to. For dad.” Reader said, determined to create a perfect band just to prove to her father that she’s worth his attention on her. “You know more than anyone, Lisa. What happened in the past, when he… when he forgot about me.”

“Yeah…” Lisa would remember the time Reader would go to her house crying on how they forgot her birthday. It broke her heart that her best friend had to deal with such pain inside her heart.

“I am going to this festival… Future World Fes will see the power of my music.”

“I do know, Reader. I know it was tough for you, but…” Lisa hesitated for a moment, “that’s exactly why I don’t want you to have to go through with this pain again.”

Reader’s family don’t even talk about music any more especially when her siblings are into their own things and the only connection to music was her father who would rather focus on his work instead of spending time with his own daughter. All Lisa wants to see is her best friend to smile again, but… it’s been such a long time now.

“Hey, I used to play the bass, didn’t I? I understand how you feel about music, it’s just… I don’t want to see you hurt yourself over it.” She noticed Reader’s expression was changing and panicked, “but hey, I’m not all diligent like you are. I’m the one who gave up music to do her nails all through high school…”

“I’m just doing what I want to do.” Reader said

“But…”

“Im serious. This is everything to me. I’m going to make the perfect band. Fun and enjoyment have nothing to do with it.”

As Reader and Lisa continued to walked down the sidewalk until they made their stop, “here’s the live house. Aren’t you going to the accessory store?” Reader asked

“Ah… Yeah, sure…” Lisa tired to put on a smile while deep down she’s just worry about her best friend. “You really can be difficult, huh…” She walked off towards the store, knowing that she wouldn’t change Reader mind that quickly. She made the decision to be there for her but she wonder if this would really help Reader’s father actually notice her… is it really something that Reader wants to do?

Meanwhile at the live house, Reader was watching a band playing their song on stage as the crowd was cheering. She thought that the guitarist and bass was great but the others aren’t even worth mentioning as the band balance is off. ‘But that boy… His phrasing is one thing, but even the basis is far beyond normal skill…’ Something about him feels so familiar, like she seen him before. What she didn’t know was that on stage was her elder brother, Jason Wayne. The only reason she didn’t recognize him was because he was the only one wearing a mask to cover up his identity.

Reader can’t help but be a little jealous and amazed at the bass skills, as regular practice can’t make them that good. She wonder how much does he play exactly. She was also surprised at the guitarist skills as well, that it’s almost at par with the bass player.

On staged, the blue haired girl thank the crowd for listening to their music with the crowd cheering her name. “Sayo…” Reader mumbled

“Hey, is that Reader? She looks so intense this close up.” One of them whispered to their friend

“Shh, she’ll hear you. She’s not the type to forgive that talk, either.”

On stage, Jason glance at the crowd, breathing heavily as this was break he needed after all that training he did. He noticed a familiar face in the crowd and squint his eyes to see that it was his younger sister Reader. ‘What is she’s doing here? Did she know that I was coming here? Wait no, she couldn’t have…?’ He thought, feeling frustrated as this was the only time he didn’t want to be bothered by his family being here as this was the only place where he can relax.

The leader singer of the band noticed Reader and was about to thank her until they noticed that Reader had already left. “Do you think she didn’t hear me?”

“Are you kidding? Reader doesn’t acknowledge people she thinks are beneath her.” The keyboardist said

Jason was a bit pissed that this is what they think about Reader, even if he somewhat doesn’t like her and think she can be annoying with that stoic behavior. She was still his sister. “Hey, that my sister you’re talking about.” He said

“Oh! I didn’t mean to say it in a cruel way. It’s just that she can be a bit difficult to um… talk to.” The drummer said

“What, really? I know she’s incredibly talented, but that’s a little rude, isn’t it?”

“She get offers from huge agencies every day. I guess she just doesn’t have time for us amateurs.”

Jason was confused, when did reader get offers from huge agencies, hell when did she even like music. He can barely remember the time she was even interested in music, not knowing that he didn’t create a single bond with her. One thing he knows, is that he will have a conversation with her about this sudden information he just gathered.

[leejenowrld]

author’s note

this is something that hasn’t been an easy decision for me

hey angels. i’m still (technically) on a break, but i needed to pop in and announce a few things before i disappear again (if i do) —h2h three is dropping tonight. literally in a few minutes. it’s a little surreal, honestly, and i hope you read this before you dive in.

the truth is, i had most of this chapter finished even before i stepped away. i only had to write the ending, and in a weird, unexpected way, coming back to h2h during my break actually helped me. it gave me something to hold onto when i was feeling really low. sometimes writing can be a tether, and this time, it genuinely was. and i want to be honest—so many people have messaged or asked when h2h three is coming out, including people who haven’t really interacted with me or have ignored my posts about my health and needing a break. i know there’s a lot of excitement for this chapter, and i really hope it lands with you. just know this is me sharing a real piece of my heart. i put everything into these stories, and it’s strange to feel so seen and so invisible at the same time. i hope you can feel how much of myself i’ve poured into this.

i also have to admit, posting this chapter is really, really hard for me. the topics i explore in h2h three are some of the heaviest i’ve ever tried to write—trauma, death, medical realism, uncomfortable dynamics, mental illness, imposter syndrome, grief, abandonment, survival, love that’s desperate and messy and so painfully human. in a lot of ways, putting this down on paper helped and healed me; it gave me a way to process things i couldn’t say out loud. but that also means sharing it is terrifying. i worry about how it’ll be received, if it’ll resonate with you, or if it’ll just be too much. there’s a strange kind of fear in releasing something so vulnerable—especially when i know how easily it could be misunderstood or passed over. i worry about silence, about judgment, about whether it’s “too much.” this isn’t just a story for me—it’s a kind of lifeline, and sharing it feels exposing in a way that’s hard to explain. i’ve debated a hundred times whether i should just hold onto it for myself. it hasn’t been an easy decision at all, and i hope you read it with the same care i tried to pour into every line. it means a lot, more than i can really put into words. there’s also one more important thing i have to reveal that is quite heavy and emotional but i can’t tell you guys that until after h2h four drops.

i won’t lie, i’m in a strange place about posting at all right now. i’ve talked about feeling insecure being on tumblr, about being anxious over how people engage—or don’t engage—with my work. it’s hard to explain what it’s like to upload something people have been waiting for when you’re also dealing with a lot offline, and when you’ve expressed just how much engagement (or lack of it) affects you. i said part three would be out in a month or two after part two, and then i dropped part two just ten days ago—so part of me already feels the regret and anxiety creeping in. i really, really hope you all will show some love back. i’m not saying it lightly: i need it. please, if you’re reading, let me know what you think. send an ask, drop a comment, reblog, message me privately, anything. silent reading is fine, but these chapters take so much out of me, and hearing from you is the only way i know if any of it lands, if you care, if you’re here. it genuinely matters. if you love something, let me know. it’ll mean more than you realize.

i also want to say i have quite a lot of asks piling up in my inbox, sent while i’ve been on my mental health break—messages i haven’t had the energy to answer yet. i promise i see you all, i love you all, and i’m overwhelmed and grateful for every bit of kindness and patience. i’ll make my way around to all of them, but please don’t be off put from sending asks just because some are still sitting in my inbox. spam me, yap at me, tell me anything—my inbox is always open, and i really do love hearing from you.

part three is, hands down, the heaviest thing i’ve ever written. please read with care and be gentle with yourself. i put so much of myself into this one, and there are some very dark, intense themes. please take your time, and step back if you need to. also, surprise: i’ve added another full part to the series, so h2h will now have four main parts and an epilogue. part three is not the end—there’s more coming, though i can’t promise when, for all the reasons above.

thank you for waiting, for reading, for caring (if you do). i’m wishing myself a little bravery and hoping you’ll meet me halfway. i love you guys. i really do.

see you on the other side. soph <3

[maridrawss]

What if in the next chapter Bw!Ford got a time wish?

While I know this wouldn't happen in my fic (sorry!) I do think it would make for a good 'what if' fic sooooo:

Ford panted as he watched the score under his name add up. He won. Against all odds and expectations, he won. He could get that Time Wish to bring his brother back.

Can you see me, Stan? I'll bring you back.

Ford saw the guards escort his opponent next to him as he heard them ask what fate should befall the loser. For some reason, Ford's first instinct was to sentence him to death. A rather morbid fate, Ford granted, which was why he settled on another.

"You can no longer meddle with my plans to save my brother. No matter how much you deem it dubious." Ford announced, voice steady and sure. Once this agent is out of the way, bringing his brother back would be easier.

"Really? That's it?" The opponent asked. "You could get me lose my job or make me do something embarrassing, but you chose something someone else could do for me?"

Ford pondered his words for a moment, before turning to the giant baby above. "Then, I know what my Wish would be."

Ford's hands shook. Whether it was from anticipation or nerves or something in between, he didn't know.

"I want to go bring my brother back."

"Very well—"

"I'm not finished."

"And you're sure of this... Decision?"

The arena was silent. "I want to go back in time after I received his postcard, and everyone who has ever or could ever hurt him never get to him ever again."

"Yes."

"Very well."

After minutes, minutes bordering an hour, he dialed his old home’s landline. His heart skipped a beat once he heard his mother's voice.

“Y’ello?”

“Hi, Ma,”

“Stanford!? Ford, honey, how are ya? I was just about to call you!” She exclaimed, voice fading in and out as she presumably set something down to focus on the call.

“I'm doing better, Ma. Can I ask you something?” Ford fidgeted with the telephone cord. Their mom had been insistent on having the two of them reconnect, surely she’d tell him where Stan was if she knew.

“Of course, Hun, what do you need?”

“Do you know where Stanley is? Or at least a number he uses as of right now?”

“Oh, that's exactly what I was about to call ya for!”

“So you know where he is?” From the side, he could see Fiddleford with a supporting smile, highlighting the bags under his eyes from the months they hadn't seen each other.

Ford felt like the sun shined when he realized everything would be perfect once he got Stan back. He’d submit the research papers, he’d make a name for himself, and with the money he’ll receive for the research, he can spend them on Stan and— Ford's breath hitched. The wish worked... Right?

Only one way to find out.

"Ford, honey, do you have a notepad? I'll give you his number."

"Stanley Pines, how can I help you?"

It worked. The wish worked. Stanley's alive.

"Stanley?"

"... Stanford?"

Ford took in a breath. This was his chance, his chance to fix everything.

"Hello, Stanley. How- how are—"

"Why are you calling me?"

Stanford froze. "What do you mean?" There was a deep breath on the other line before he heard a deep sigh.

"I told you not to contact me after I hide that stu- that journal."

"Yeah... But—"

"No. Look, I'm sorry it was harsh. But- but, Ford, I'm tired. I just... I don't know, maybe someday when I- maybe one day. Just not now."

Everyone who has ever or could ever hurt him never get to him ever again.

Everyone who has ever or could ever hurt him.

"I... I understand. For what it's worth, thank you."

Everyone who has ever or could ever hurt him.

"Yeah, whatever."

Never get to him again.

Ford heard the dial tone in the phone as Stan hung up on him, his own words echoing, reverberating in his head.

He never had a chance.

Slowly, he out the phone back, as if putting the phone back on the receiver would cut his bond with Stan for good. Maybe it already was.

"How did it go?" Fiddleford asked.

Ford took in a shaky breath as he looked back to his friend. "He... He doesn't want to talk." To me. He doesn't want anything to do with me.

He couldn't blame his brother, really. Stan was put into his situation because of him in the first place.

Still, it hurt. It hurt so much. Even when he had his brother back, he can't even come near him.

Ford was back at the telephone the next day, dialing the number once more.

"Stanley Pines, how can I help you?"

He tried to get something out, say something, anything.

Nothing.

Ford couldn't say anything.

"Hello?"

Ford hung up.

Ford was back at the telephone the next day, dialing the number again.

"Stanley Pines, how can I help you?"

Ford hung up.

Ford was back at the telephone the next day, dialing the number again.

"Stanley Pines, how can I help you?"

Ford hung up again.

Ford knew he couldn't have his brother back in his life, not yet. But he could at least rest easy knowing no one could hurt his brother anymore, not even himself.

Maybe if he made a different wish, maybe I he wished Stan never took the journal, maybe if he wished he never found that cave, maybe if he wished Stan never got kicked out, maybe then they'd be fine.

At least he'd keep Stan's voice in his life, knowing his brother was still alive somewhere.

[blindmagdalena]

Guilty Pleasures ( chapter two )

18+ 3.8k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, lite somnophilia, breaking & entering, petty theft, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 2/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander is the most powerful man in the world, and all he wants is to be yours.

After spending the majority of your evening and the following morning anticipating being fired, walking into work the next day feels like traversing a thinly frozen lake, each step webbing out in precarious cracks.

Clearly you’re not the only one who thinks so: you clock a handful of surprised looks from coworkers who’d attended the meeting and took note of the tension between you and Vought’s golden boy.

Maybe they’d taken bets on whether or not you’d be coming in this morning.

There’s no sign of Homelander on your way in. Not that you were expecting him–yesterday was the first time you actually saw him in person–but you still find yourself on the lookout. It’s hard to say whether you’re anticipating or dreading him. Part of you is still expecting to open your door and find a letter on your desk politely informing you that they’ve determined you aren’t a good “culture fit” for the company, and that your probation has been terminated.

After all, who in their right mind would take your side over Homelander’s?

You push open your office door, and sure enough, there is a letter waiting for you, but not in the way you expected. You stand in the doorway, staring in quiet incomprehension. The envelope, crisp and bright white, is propped up in a bed of rich red roses sitting in a pretty vase upon your desk. You glance behind you before you step inside, closing the door behind you, and approach the desk cautiously. You pluck the paper out of the bouquet, taking a moment to smell the flowers–they smell as good as they look–before you carefully rip open the envelope, tearing the small american flag sticker that sealed it.

Inside, there’s only one word on the folded piece of paper, scrawled in surprisingly elegant handwriting.

Truce?

You can’t help the incredulous little bark of laughter you give at that. It’s not even an apology. It’s a demand that he expects a gratuitous bundle of flowers will help you swallow, like taking medicine with a spoonful of sugar.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say quietly to the letter, setting it down on your desk. You give the roses one last sniff, testing one of the soft petals between your fingers. You wonder if what you said actually got through to him.

Homelander has no real reason to smooth things over with you: you’re no one. He’s posed no risk to himself by coming after you. He could no doubt have you fired by complaining that your marketing tactics don’t align with his brand. It’s hard to imagine Vought denies him much.

Yet he is apparently negotiating peace. It’s not nearly enough, but it is a start.

Or maybe it’s just more than you expected.

You sit, idly tapping the letter against your desk. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t still think him handsome. Homelander wasn’t the first man to ogle your tits while you gave a presentation, but he was certainly the first to fluster you like that when he did. His sly smile had made you want to slap him, but there was a questionable little part of you that thought about kissing it better afterwards.

Taking in a steadying breath, you slip the letter into your desk drawer and adjust the flowers to the side, admiring them a moment before you pull out your laptop.

If Homelander can behave himself enough to let you do your job without public humiliation, you can afford a truce. You don’t need to forgive or condone him to be civil, or even to continue having your own private fantasies. A little guilty pleasure now and again never hurt anyone.

You can’t know that Homelander is observing you throughout this internal conversation, watching through several layers of steel and concrete, his parted lips curving into a slow smile as you accept his offering. You can’t know that you haven’t just acknowledged a truce, but an invitation.

No, you can’t possibly know what’s to come.

Two days later, you diligently change the water that the roses in your office sit in. They’re doing well, the crimson buds having unfurled into a splay of velvety petals. You pinch one between your thumb and forefinger and stroke it absently. Homelander has continued to be a scarcity, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t seen him. Quite the opposite: you spend most of your working hours either looking at or thinking about his face to the point where it’s starting to follow you home each day.

That’s what you tell yourself when you think of him outside of work hours, anyways.

It’s been long enough now that you wonder if the flowers were the end of it. He was simply covering his ass with a half hearted gesture that slightly resembled an apology so that you could both comfortably drop the subject. That was entirely fine by you so long as he actually did improve his behavior.

A familiarly brisk knock at your door catapults your heart up against the cage of your ribs like a spooked hare. It’s the exact same beat, you’re sure of it. You stay quiet, half expecting to be barged in upon, but when nothing happens, you move from your desk and open the door yourself, intentionally blocking it with your body.

Sure enough, Homelander stands tall on the other side. He flashes his signature smile while your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“I think I’m the one who can help you,” he says brightly, that spread of teeth downright wolfish. He lifts a handful of papers that have been stapled at the corner, gesturing for you to take it.

Still wary, you take them from him and shift, wedging your foot to keep the door firmly in place while you flip through the pages. Your brows furrow as you recognize chunks of your own presentation. Understanding dawns when you realize that he’s annotated them.

“You read my presentation,” you say, unable to mask your surprise.

“Obviously. It’s my image on the line, right? Got some notes for you, but I have to say: y’mostly nailed it,” he says, reaching out to rest a gloved hand on the doorway.

“Mostly?” You echo, quirking an eyebrow at him as you look up from the pages.

“Yeah, mostly. Again, I have some minor notes,” he says, wiggling his other hand in a vague gesture. “But I figure I owe you praise on a job mostly well done.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Crossing your arms, you abandon your stern foothold on the door in order to shift your weight, your incredulity showing in every inch of your body language.  “What you owe me is an apology.”

Homelander’s grin softens into a smile that’s no less challenging. “Looks to me like you’ve already been enjoying my apology,” he says, leaning slightly to gaze past you, to the bundle of roses sitting prettily on your desk.

You briefly glance over your shoulder, but your expression remains impassive. Unimpressed. “That? That isn’t an apology. An apology would include the words I’m sorry.”

He scoffs a dismissive laugh, swaying back to look away, but you persist.

“I’m serious,” you say, luring his ocean blue gaze back to yours. “I want you to say to me ‘I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation. It won’t happen again.’ “

The two of you hold each other’s gaze with all the magnitude of two gunmen in a duel, hands steady over your proverbial pistols. 

To your surprise, Homelander does not fire back. He raises a dainty white flag.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation,” he says, words slow and measured. You watch his tongue flash over his bottom lip, wetting it attractively. You fight to not let your eyes linger on it. “It won’t happen again.”

You swallow, suddenly finding thought and speech an impossible task. You weren’t prepared for such raw, ready obedience from him, nor the intensity in his gaze that follows it. He reminds you of a charmed snake–docile so long as he is transfixed.

“Good,” you say, the word half a sigh. Homelander’s lips part and he breathes in like he’s caught wind of something particularly delicious smelling. “I accept your apology, and I appreciate that you took the time to do this,” you say, gesturing with the documents in your hand. “I’ll go over them and get back to you.”

He reaches out, bracing his hand on your office door. You half expect him to push it open, but he merely holds it there. “We could go over them together,” he suggests slyly.

“No,” you say, clearly disarming him. He looks as though he’s forgotten the meaning of the word. “I’m in the middle of another project at the moment.”

The leather of his gloves creaks faintly in your ear as he flexes his grip on the edge of the door. While what you’ve said is true, it’s also serving as a test. Words and flowers are pretty things, but only actions always speak the truth.

“At the moment,” he repeats, gears visibly turning in his eyes. “So… Later?” He extrapolates, displaying an uncharacteristic tentativeness alongside his obvious displeasure at the taste of rejection. You even see a glimmer of hope in the mess of his expression.. 

He did pass the test. You suppose you can reward him for that.

“Another time,” you say, giving your door an exploratory push. He relents, his hands sliding down the length of it before falling away as he takes a half-step back. “How about tomorrow on my lunch break? 1:00 o'clock sharp.”

He splits into a smile that looks more genuine than any of his you’ve seen before. “Aaalrighty-roo. Sounds gooood to meeeee,” he says, drawing out his vowels more the closer he gets to actually having to leave. At your silent, amused stare, he claps his gloved hands together with a muffled thump! and takes a few more steps backwards. “Yooooou’ll see me… tomorrow.”

Your smile pinches along with your brows. What a strange way to phrase it. “See you then,” you say, watching as his face is eclipsed by your closing door. You wait a beat and then let out a thin thread of breath from your pursed lips, resting your weight on the door.

Looking down at the papers in your hand, you push off from the door and head to your desk, flipping through them.

Such a strange man, you think, carrying the notes to your desk. You set them down next to the vase of roses and try not to think too much about the unconscious smile your lips keep settling into for the rest of the day.

Homelander’s got you hook, line and sinker. He’s certain of it. He lingers on the other side of your door just long enough to watch you through it while you settle, a charmed smile set on your lips. He can already imagine how those lips would feel against his own, how they’d taste. He swallows thickly and looks around before he departs, already plotting his next move.

The two of you have a date tomorrow, and in order to be at the top of his game, he’s going to have to do a little additional research. Knowing your work was a good first step. The next one will be learning about you.

Following you home is the easy part. It ultimately feels chivalrous to do so once he realizes you walk home even at this time of year, when the sun sets long before the work day ends. He drifts above you, cocking his head curiously. No wonder you walk. The streets are packed as tightly as sardine cans, and your apartment garage isn’t much better. The claustrophobia of it all serves as a stark contrast to the openness of Vought tower.

The interior of your apartment provides an even sharper juxtaposition to his penthouse. It’s tidy, but the comparatively low ceilings and minimal floor space still make it look cramped. Somehow, you simultaneously have too much and yet not much at all, the confinement of a downtown apartment making what minimal affects you do own seem crowded together.

That only becomes more apparent once he’s inside, slipped in through your balcony after sleep has taken you. Why would you bother to lock your balcony when you live on the 8th floor? It works out perfectly for him.

In all fairness, your living room feels cozier once he’s standing in the center of it. Your walls are lined with an assortment of art pieces and photographs, and the shelves are well stocked with books and knick-knacks. You have a decent film collection displayed on your media console, and he can’t help but snoop through it, bending at the waist, examining through the rows. He cocks his head.

Odd. You’d think an employee of Vought would have at least a few VCU films. He runs his index finger along the spines, slightly adjusting them flush as he goes. Pursing his lips, he straightens up and looks at the closed cabinets on either side. The left one yields an untidy assortment of electronic odds and ends, cords and the like. Nothing of much interest other than an indication that while you like to keep up appearances, you aren’t quite as together as you’d like people to think. 

It’s on the right side, however, he finds what he’s really looking for.

“Bingo,” he whispers, smiling to himself as he scopes out your little hidden collection of Vought hero flicks. Specifically, his films. He’s less interested in the handful of others you own (Queen Maeve: Her Majesty, Black Noir: Insurrection, Lamplighter: The Bright World, etc) and more so in the fact that you have nearly his entire catalog tucked away. 

Nearly. You’re missing his eighteen part miniseries, Homelander: Brightest Night.

At least that gives him something to gift you.

Closing the cabinet, he meanders about the rest of your apartment. You have some plants in varying states of decay, with only a few cacti looking to be in decent shape. Either your work keeps you too busy to properly mind them, or you just like the idea of them more than the reality. It tells him that you’re looking–and failing–to fill a void in your life. You want to feel less alone in your home, you want to nurture something. You just haven’t found the right something yet.

Striding into your kitchen, arms folded behind his back, he peers through the cheap wood veneer of your fiberboard cupboards, unveiling an unusually broad assortment of mugs. There doesn’t seem to be any particular theme: holidays, locales, characters, and a menagerie of patterns. 

He hums softly, pivoting out of the kitchen and down the hall, his steps preternaturally light. He listens for the beat of your heart as he draws near, tunes it in alongside the shallow cadence of your breath. Deep asleep. Good.

The walls are lined with pictures of you and others. Friends or family, he can’t say, but you look to have an abundance of both. He rarely sees himself in photos that aren’t promotional material. He pauses to straighten a picture frame, and finds himself so viciously jealous of the man sharing the frame with you–his lips pressed to your cheek, your laughing smile so genuine he can nearly hear it–that he almost knocks it to the ground.

Running his tongue along his teeth, he continues on.

Your bedroom door is open. He slips in silently, pausing just through the doorway. Your bed's a queen, too big for just you. You’re sprawled comfortably amidst pillows, limbs splayed in just such a way that he can easily imagine fitting himself in the empty spaces between them. He can smell the lingering burn of the candle you’d lit when you got home. He picks it up off your dresser, reading the label: Cup ‘o Joe. 

Eugh. He never cared for coffee, and the artificial sweetness surrounding the note is cloying. Your perfume, on the other hand, he doesn’t mind. He notices the bottle alongside a few other of your things and puts the candle down in favor of that, popping the cap off. The smell hits him before he sprays it: vanilla first, then amber and something more woodsy. It’s less impressive by itself than it had been on you.

Still, it’s yours. You chose it for yourself.

Slipping off one of his gloves, he lightly sprays into the inside of it before he sets the bottle back down, recapping it. It won’t be the same, but he’s driven by the compulsion to spirit away any little pieces of you that he can. Just enough to satiate himself until he can have you properly.

That’s when he sees your blouse from today in a careless heap at the top of your laundry basket next to your dresser. Licking his lips, he tests the feel of the garment between his bare fingers. He’s always been sensitive to fabrics, and while the blend of this one is fairly cheap, it’s been worn and washed enough that it’s soft against his skin. He grabs a handful of it and lifts it to his mouth, brushing it along his lips, under his nose, and he deeply inhales your lingering scent mixing with the fresh pump of perfume.

He bites back a moan, screwing his eyes shut. His cock gives a dull little throb. Fuck, the spell you’ve cast on him makes him ache just for the smell of you, makes him salivate. He swallows it back, letting out a rough little breath as he reluctantly puts the shirt back down. Under it, he spies a little flash of something black and lacy. His stomach clenches, and he’s reaching for it before he can stop himself, fishing the black panties out of the heap and twisting the fabric between his fingers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t afford to overindulge. He won’t be able to control himself if he does, but he also can’t bring himself to put the little slip of fabric back down. He imagines he can almost taste where your sweet cunt had been pressed to it. Christ, he’s practically drooling. Out of sheer impulse, he yanks down the zipper of his pants with a quiet hiss of metal against metal and hastily pushes your underwear into his cup, biting down hard on his lip. He grinds once against his hand, savoring the feel of the fabric against his cock.

He’ll enjoy them far more than you’ll miss them.

Zipping himself back up, he carefully pulls open your top dresser drawer. He curiously pushes the contents around, mindful not to overly disturb, and his knuckles bump something solid. He shifts one of your bras–another near painful pang of arousal at the reminder of your breasts–aside and finds, to his delight, what any good marketing department would describe as  “a large purple massage wand.”

A vibrator. He chews his bottom lip briefly, turning it over in his grip. An exciting find on all fronts. It’s smooth and decently hefty, good quality. You deserve even better. You might be capable of indulging yourself with this, but he could make you scream. You’ll never need a silly little toy again. Not when you have him.

Homelander moves to put it back in the drawer, but–

“Fuck!” He hisses when the button catches on his finger, and suddenly the damn thing is buzzing.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chants mentally, jabbing at the buttons in an attempt to silence it, but pressing the same ones only makes the accursed device louder. In a frantic move, he grips the neck and squeezes. There’s a soft crunch beneath the silicone, and as abruptly as it had begun, the buzzing ends. His heart is thudding heavily in his chest. He listens to the silence, to you.

He looks over his shoulder. No movement. Your breaths remain shallow.

Christ.

So much for leaving no trace. He slips the busted toy back amidst your underthings and snatches his glove off of your dresser, tucking it under his arm. He hones his attention on you as he approaches your bed, assuring himself that you really are still asleep. He stands there for a while, admiring the part of your lips and the haphazard splay of your pajamas and where they cling to your body.

No bra.

His bare hand flexes. Being so close is too much of a temptation. He wets his lips with a quick slide of his tongue and bends down. He ghosts his fingers just over your cheek, not quite daring to touch. He can smell the faint remnants of your toothpaste on your breath, your shampoo, and beneath it all, you. It's intoxicating, it's…

Your brows furrow slightly in your sleep and you make a soft noise, interrupting his thoughts. He wonders if you’re dreaming–dreaming of him, perhaps. He’d like to think so. He’d like to think that you’re just as affected by him wanting you as he is, and that’s the real reason you invited him to lunch. He saw it in your eyes when he echoed your words, the thrill that went through you. He could have gone to his knees for you in that moment and had you in giving himself to you.

Desperate for just a taste, he kisses ever so gently between your brows, his own breaths matching the cadence of yours. Divine. You're divine. So effortlessly perfect and so aware of your own power. How could he not want every part of you?

He means to leave it there, to walk away with nothing but the slight salt of your brow on his lips, but the pull is too great. He's greedy, drunk on the smell and the taste of you, on the feel of your panties pressed up against his cock, and he can't stop himself from sampling your lips against his.

It’s the barest hint of touch, and yet the contact lances electricity through him like he’s been struck by a bolt of lightning. Your lips are soft, soft, soft. He knew they would be. Everything about you is so fucking soft. It takes everything in him to pull away, standing back to his full height.

He's aching, yearning so intensely he could rip the covers away and take you just like this, shake you awake, declare himself and have you. Would you scream, or would you have that same look of affronted understanding of him? You see him in a way few are ever brave–or stupid–enough to dare.

Not yet.

He won’t spoil the game. He agreed to play by your terms. As far as you’re concerned, he’ll do precisely that. You’ll be none the wiser in regards to his little reconnaissance mission–anything could have happened to your vibrator–and the two of you can play your little game as if you stand on equal footing.

Sucking in a silent breath, Homelander leaves alone, but not empty handed.

He’ll make very good use of his little trophy tonight.

( chapter three )

[longagoitwastuesday]

Every day I am haunted by the fact JJK could be amazing but it will be just idk Bleach or something

[dolokhoded]

i'm sorry to all the projects i never finished because i was too depressed and once i was back i simply couldn't be assed anymore every time this happens a little bit of creativity dries up in me and i just can't jump back in again hope you understand