#ah the parade i miss her

[alchemistc]

Robbie slaps a glossy looking flyer on the table. Palm down, eyes narrowed, pretending like hell the slap of her hand against the wood grain didn't sting as she squares up, all four-feet-three-inches of her, like she's preparing for battle.

Tommy's slumped in his chair and still half a head taller than her.

He doesn't quite cower, at her glare, but at thirteen she's just about ready to explode at any given moment.

They don't talk about the time he sat on the floor with the bathroom door at his back and read the instructions for inserting a tampon in the calm, cool tones of a man so far out of his depth he might as well have turned into pressurized meat juice mist while Robbie had a panic attack just inside.

They don't talk about the massive argument they'd had in the middle of TJ's the first time Robbie back talked Evan with all the angst of a girl about to experience the pimpliest, testosterone fueled ragiest few years of her life. (Evan had gotten a kick out of it and Tommy had spent a week listening to his deep dives into the Beauty Of Puberty with the skepticism of an only child who never shared a bathroom).

Robbie rolls her jaw. Grabs the flyer and shakes it in Tommy's face. It's a riot of color, and Tommy has to squint to make out the words. Fuck, he does need those reading glasses.

"Why is the paper making you look homicidal?"

"We never go to Pride, dad!"

Ah.

Well.

That.

Tommy slumps further in his seat, which puts Robbie at eye level, and boy howdy is she gonna make his life a living hell until the hormones settle in...a decade or so. The glare is all Evan, emotions unchecked and just out there for the world to see. He's so fucking grateful neither of his kids took to his 'repress until you pancake yourself' way of handling a single emotion.

Tommy never bought into the rainbow crap, couldn't ever push himself into participating in a world he'd denied himself so long. Nothing against it, himself, just - a line he kept somewhere off behind and to the left where he couldn't look it in the eye.

And Evan...

Well. Being an 'ally' switched to throwing up the Bi Flag in his Instagram profile and he never really shifted any further than that.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Tommy asks, because last week she'd spent an hour in the yard yanking weeds with the ferociousness of a terrier with a nest of rats over some kid in her class named Michael and to this point hasn't shown that her interests stray farther than that. Fuck. Has he missed something?

"Uh, yeah, that my gay dads are quiet homophobes who won't take their kids to a fuckin' parade."

Oh well that's a lot of different things to put in check, right there.

It's his own damn fault for laughing hysterically every time their toddler dropped an F bomb.

It's his own damn fault for blowing off the drag queens with petitions outside the library a month ago.

"Your father is a Kinsey two-and-a-half on a good day, and don't say fuck."

"Internalized homophobia is still homophobia, dad." She rolls her tongue over her teeth. Sends him a challenging look. "Fuck." She pronounces it like it has seven syllables.

"If you're gonna challenge me you better be able to use it in a sentence properly."

"I want to fucking go to fucking Pride with my fucked up not straight dads but they're both fucking repressed fucking losers."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Tommy jokes, and the flyer crumples in his daughters fist. And - yep, there's the shriek.

Evan's gonna be pissed that he isn't curbing the language a little more.

Which he absolutely will do. Later. Once Robbie isn't a good leap away from the knife block.

His kids aren't violent people, by nature. Robbie has a mean left hook and an eye for taking people out at the ankles he encouraged far too much before she hit ten. Danny cradles spiders in the cup of his hands on the way out the door while giving Tommy a wide-eyed and judgemental berth.

Robbie crumples up the flyer a little more. Stares at him like she's wishing there was enough weight to it to cause damage to his thick fucking skull if she were to throw it.

She blinks, and those are - yep, those are tears.

"Sweetheart," Tommy starts, and Robbie launches herself forward, embraces Tommy just in time for some sobs to really kick in, nonsensical phrases leaking out of her as she cries, and cries, and cries.

He's good at this part. The part where they can't see his face, where he can cradle them to him and rub their back and murmur nonsense back while they do a better job feeling, and then regulating their emotions than he had until his late thirties.

"Ms. Frankie said she'd take me but I don't wanna go with Ms. Frankie," he gets, as another wave breaks, and he has to shift his weight against the onslaught of two sharp ass knees heading straight for his belly. "Ms. Frankie has a crush on Dad and I hate her."

Ms. Frankie absolutely has the hots for Evan. Ms. Frankie's son is a bully who thinks he's better than everyone else by virtue of accepting and picking on everyone equal-opportunity style.

Ms. Frankie is definitely not taking his kid to her first Pride.

Shit.

God damnit.

The tears dry up, eventually.

Tommy tries not to think about the fact that he's not gonna be allowed to comfort his pre-teen like this for much longer. Tries not to think about the fact that she's gonna stop asking for it, soon enough, and he'll have to make do with words from the other side of a slammed door.

"I'm not wearing rainbow anything," he says, like he's surrendering a crucial air base, and Robbie leans back with narrowed eyes.

"I have that face paint Jee gave me for Christmas."

"You get one cheek to work with," he negotiates, even though he's well aware he's gonna leave the house with more color than he's worn in twenty-five years.

"Dad let me do his whole face for New Years," she wheedles.

"Dad has better coloring than I do. Those jewel tones make his eyes pop. And Dad doesn't have to know how many times you dropped an F-bomb on me ten minutes ago."

He's fucking up his kids. Teaching an almost teenager how to properly blackmail someone is just one of many ways he's doing it while he digs his own grave.

At least they're not fucking scared of him.

"Two cheeks, and we post a picture on Dad's Insta because Ms. Frankie stalks him there and she'll be so jealous."

"You're diabolical," Tommy tells her, and her wet, snotty, lopsided grin makes something in his heart swoop. She's all Evan, and he loves her so fucking much he stopped trying to figure out where to put it the first time she latched a tiny little hand around his pointer finger and burst into the exhausted tears of something new to this world. "If you ever teach Danny how to manipulate someone like this I'm gonna start reporting you for war crimes."

"Danny's too nice, it would hurt his feelings to even think about it."

Yeah. Not sure where the fuck he got that from.

"You watch out for him, don't you?"

He's aware there's a dynamic at play here that he shouldn't overly encourage. Doesn't want her feeling like she's gotta parent her younger brother, it's just -

"He doesn't need it. Sometimes when he says nice things to people I think he destroys their whole world for a few days."

Tommy takes her out for ice cream and broaches the subject of the parade before Evan realizes Tommy's spoiled her dinner.

Danny's eyes go bright and gleaming and he sends a look at his sister that Tommy is absolutely certain he should be worried about, because they've clearly been plotting and scheming for days.

When June sixth rolls around Danny wakes up early, pounces on the bed, and hands Tommy the ugliest fucking shirt Tommy's ever seen, bright and lurid and awful, and Robbie doesn't even have the decency to hide her smug look when she stumbles blearily into the kitchen, following the smell of scrambled eggs Tommy spends an extra ten minutes dyeing with the organic shit Evan brought home last week.

[azuraaass]

"The Knight's Dance"

Content: Lewis Hamilton x reader in a Bridgerton way - fluff

Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI

The ballroom glittered like a jewel box, all crystal chandeliers and framed mirrors reflecting the cream of London society in their finest silks and satins. She pressed herself against the marble pillar, trying to make herself invisible among the elaborate arrangements of hothouse roses and peonies that perfumed the air with their heady sweetness.

Another season. Another ball. Another evening of being paraded before eligible gentlemen like a prize.

Her mother had outdone herself with tonight's gown—Emerald silk that brought out her eyes, with tiny golden filaments sewed along the bodice that caught the candlelight with every breath. Beautiful, certainly, but it felt like armor. Pretty armor designed to catch a husband before she became a burden on the family.

She was contemplating a potential espace from the garden when she saw him.

Sir Lewis Hamilton stood near the French doors leading to the terrace, and every eye in the ballroom seemed drawn to him like iron filings to a magnet. He cut a striking figure in his perfectly tailored evening suits, his dark skin uncommon among the pale English nobility but commanding attention in a way that spoke of confidence rather than novelty.

The whispered conversations around her painted him in broad strokes: youngest son of a shipping fortune who'd made his own name in the military, decorated for valor in the Peninsula, recently returned to London society with more invitations than he could possibly accept. The sort of man mothers schemed to place in front of their daughters, if only he seemed inclined to marry.

But it wasn't his reputation that held her attention. It was the way he stood slightly apart from the clusters of gentlemen, watching the dancing with an expression she recognized—polite interest masking barely concealed boredom.

As if sensing her study, his gaze found hers across the crowded ballroom. For a moment that seemed to stretch like taffy between them, they simply looked at each other. Then Lady Danbury's laugh boomed nearby, startling her back to awareness, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks warming.

"Miss."

The voice was warm, cultured, closer than she'd expected. She turned to find Sir Lewis standing beside her, having navigated the crowd with the same quiet grace she'd noticed earlier. Up close, he was even more striking—tall and broad-shouldered, with intelligent dark eyes that seemed to see more than most.

"Sir Hamilton," she managed, sinking into what she hoped was an acceptable curtsy.

"You appear to be studying the proceedings with the eye of a military strategist," he observed, and there was gentle humor in his voice that made her forget to be nervous.

"Is my tactical assessment so obvious?"

"Only to a fellow observer of battlefield dynamics." His mouth quirked upward. "I confess, I was attempting to devise my own escape route when I noticed your... reconnaissance."

"And what conclusions did your reconnaissance yield, sir?"

"That we are both fish out of water in a sea of sharks."

The unexpected frankness startled a laugh from her. "That's a rather dramatic assessment of a ball, sir."

"Is it? Tell me, have you managed a single genuine conversation this evening, or has it all been variations on the weather and commentary on Lady Whistledown's latest scandal sheet?"

She blinked. No gentleman had ever asked her such a direct question at a social gathering. They discussed her accomplishments, her father's estate, occasionally her opinions on utterly safe topics. Never her actual thoughts.

"The latter, I'm afraid," she admitted. "Though I did have a spirited discussion about the merits of various watercolor techniques with Miss Featherington."

"Ah, a fellow artist. And what is your preferred subject?"

"Landscapes, mostly. Also recently I’ve been finding people too..." she searched for the right word, "changeable."

"Changeable how?"

"They rarely are what they appear to be in public." She glanced around the ballroom, at the elaborate costumes and careful smiles. "It's difficult to capture truth when everyone is performing a role."

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or recognition.

"And what role are you performing tonight?" he asked quietly.

The question caught her off-guard with its gentle perceptiveness. "The dutiful daughter. The accomplished young lady. The..." she hesitated.

"The matrimonial prospect?"

"Precisely." She met his eyes, surprised by her own boldness. "And you, Sir Lewis? What role brings you to Lady Danbury's ballroom?"

"The reluctant bachelor. The decorated war hero who should be grateful for society's attention." His voice carried a note of irony that made her chest tighten with understanding.

"Should be?"

"One grows weary of being valued primarily for one's eligibility rather than one's conversation."

Before she could respond, the orchestra struck up a waltz. Around them, couples began moving toward the dance floor with the precision of a well-rehearsed ballet.

"Miss," Sir Lewis said, offering his gloved hand with a bow that was perfectly proper and somehow intimate at the same time, "would you do me the honor?"

Her heart performed a complicated series of leaps. "I... yes."

His hand was warm and sure as he led her onto the floor, and when he placed his other hand at her waist—properly, respectably, but close enough that she could smell his cologne, something clean and masculine that made her slightly dizzy—she forgot to breathe.

"Eyes on me," he murmured as they began to move. "Not on them."

But she was already looking at him, had been since the moment he'd approached. Up close, she could see the small scar above his left eyebrow, the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he concentrated, the elegant line of his jaw.

They moved together as if they'd been dancing partners for years, his lead confident but never overwhelming, guiding her through the steps with an ease that made her feel graceful instead of merely competent. The ballroom spun around them in a blur of color and light, but she was only aware of him—the solid warmth of his hand, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the room worth seeing.

"You dance beautifully," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

"You sound surprised, sir."

"Not surprised. Enchanted."

The word hung between them, improper and perfect and absolutely devastating to her composure. She felt heat bloom in her cheeks, spreading down her neck to disappear beneath her neckline.

"Sir Hamilton..."

"Lewis," he corrected softly with a light smile. "When we're dancing, just Lewis."

"That's hardly proper."

"No," he agreed, spinning her with expert precision, "it isn't."

When the waltz ended, they stood frozen for a moment longer than propriety allowed, his hand still at her waist, hers still curved around his shoulder. The ballroom seemed to hold its breath around them.

"Thank you," she whispered, though for what exactly, she couldn't say.

"The pleasure was entirely mine." But he didn't release her immediately, and she didn't step away. "Perhaps... would you take some air? The terrace is quite lovely in the moonlight."

It was scandalous. Unchaperoned walks in moonlit gardens were the stuff of ruined reputations and hastily arranged marriages. Her mother would have an apoplectic reaction .

"Yes," she heard herself say.

As he offered his arm and led her toward the French doors, she caught sight of her reflection in one of the gilt mirrors lining the wall. For the first time all season, she looked alive. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, her smile genuine rather than practiced.

"Second thoughts?" Lewis asked, noticing her pause.

"No," she said, surprising herself with her certainty. "No second thoughts at all."

Because sometimes the most dangerous thing you can do at a ball is dance with someone who makes you forget you're performing.

And sometimes, if you're very lucky, they forget they're performing too.

[never-mind-09]

sometimes I wish I'd have reader's life...like seriously, where is my Sebastian

You should’ve known the bag was going to give out.

It had that sad, overstuffed stretch to it. You’d packed it to the brim out of stubbornness and a refusal to take another trip. And of course, after the week you’d had long hours, snappy emails, everything that could go wrong doing exactly that the universe decided to throw in one more little insult.

The bag tore.

Not gracefully. Not quietly. Just splorch and then the symphony of cans, boxes, and your dignity spilling across the sidewalk.

You stared at it.

Because of course. Of course this was happening. Your stomach sank, your hands clenched, and for a brief, simmering moment you were this close to throwing the rest of the groceries at the nearest wall. One more thing. One more stupid thing and you were going to lose it. Actually lose it. You could already feel the meltdown clawing up your throat.

This week had been an endless parade of almosts: almost missing your train, almost crying at work, almost managing a proper meal that wasn’t instant noodles. And now? This.

Just fantastic.

“…Need assistance?”

The voice was smooth, deep, and far too composed for this particular moment.

You turned, half-expecting a nosy stranger or some judgmental passerby. Instead, you found a tall man standing beside you, black suit, crimson eyes, and the kind of grace that felt entirely out of place next to scattered spaghetti noodles and cat treats.

He knelt before you could answer, already picking up the scattered items with practiced ease. One gloved hand lifted a bag of kibble. He regarded it with interest.

“Ah,” he said, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “You have cats. With rather refined palates.”

You blinked, thrown off by the fact that he wasn’t laughing or judging you. “Two, actually.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Then might I suggest the feline Cuisine Salmon Pate next time? A bit overpriced, but cats tend to adore it.”

You stared at him. “…Right.”

Without another word, he gathered the rest of your groceries in neat, balanced stacks and rose to his full height.

"I’ll carry these for you.”

You frowned. “You don’t have to—”

“I insist.”

You hesitated, still trying to piece together what exactly his deal was. He noticed.

“Forgive me,” he said, shifting the bags in one arm and extending a gloved hand with effortless poise. “Sebastian. It seemed rude not to offer a name.”

You blinked at the sudden formality, then shook his hand. “Y/N.”

He gave a small nod. “A pleasure.”

And somehow, saying no felt… impossible.

So you walked side by side, quiet but not awkwardly so.

So you walked side by side, quiet but not awkwardly so. You didn’t know who he was some stranger with perfect posture and opinions about cat food but you were too tired to question it. The sun had dipped low, washing the street in amber light, and your apartment was thankfully only a few blocks away.

As you reached your building, you turned to him with a small, tired smile.

“Thanks. Seriously.” You gestured to the door. “I can handle it from here—”

“Mrrrow!”

The sharp meow was followed by a blur of fur as your front door creaked open, just enough for one of your cats to bolt outside. She made a beeline for Sebastian and ,unapologetically, rubbed herself all along his leg, purring like an engine.

You were mid-apology when he crouched again, slow and reverent, as if greeting royalty.

“Oh… aren’t you lovely?” he murmured, stroking her back with soft precision. “Such a well-groomed coat… You must be adored.”

Your cat flopped to the ground dramatically, exposing her belly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the look on Sebastian’s face. He was… enchanted.

“I have another one inside,” you said after a moment, watching his fingers work skillfully behind her ears. “She’s waiting.”

His head turned slightly, crimson eyes flicking toward you. There was something just a little brighter in them now. A little too pleased.

“In that case,” he said, standing smoothly, “it would be terribly rude not to greet her as well.”

You snorted under your breath, stepping aside. “By all means. Come in.”

He followed without hesitation still holding your groceries with one arm and calling softly for the second cat with the other, like he’d done this a thousand times before.

You closed the door behind him.

Your week had been awful.

But right now?

It didn’t feel so bad.

Then the reader showed Sebastian the bedroom

[imnameimswrld]

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 || 𝗠𝗩𝟭, 𝗩𝗗𝟮𝟵, 𝗥𝗛 ꒱꒱

━━ ❪ . . . maxverstappen x vincedunn x renhiramoto x vettel!model!reader ❫

━━ ❪ . . . description : world famous model y/n vettel celebrates her birthday and the internet blows up when 3 of the hottest sportsmen post about her, their princess ; ❫

━━ ❪ . . . smau, poly relationship ❫

━━ ❪ . . . warnings : language ❫

━━ ❪ . . . fc: gigi hadid ❫

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

maxverstappen1, vincedunn, and ren__k1 added to their stories !

[ caption for all: our bday princess 💗 ]

ynusername

liked by vincedunn, tomholland2013, and 50 335 798 others

[ tagged: kendalljenner, zendaya, maxverstappen1, ren__k1, vincedunn ]

ynusername what a birthday weekend I had ! spent it with my special friends, my amazing boys, and some damn good dinner 💗. thank you for the stellar weather monaco, a huge congrats to my maxie on p1, and GO SEATTLE KRACKENS 3-0 !!!! 🏆

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user MOTHER SLAYS ONCE MORE.

user yn and seb were so cute at the race omg the way she was hugging him and squishing their cheeks together 😭

user I genuinely wonder what seb's reaction was to his little sis telling him she has not one, but THREE bfs.

⤿ sebastianvettel i fainted.

⤿ maxverstappen1 ah, good times

[ likes by ren__k1 ]

user miss girl has a f1 champion, a nhl player, a mma fighter, AND is the younger sister of a former f1 word champion – god has favourites.

user yeah, god, it's ME AGAIN.

user couple of the century idc what anyone says.

zendaya what a weekend indeed omg 😻

⤿ ynusername miss our midnight adventures already 🤭😫

[ liked by zendaya, kendalljenner ]

⤿ kendalljenner we gotta plan another girls weekend – but boy-free this time !!

[ liked by ynusername, zendaya ]

⤿ vincedunn hey, I can be one of the girls.

⤿ tomholland2013 same here !

user did ya'll see the videos of them in the restaurant ?? 😫😫

⤿ user yes omfg the way vince pulled her on his lap so they could all three hold her while they sang happy birthday PLEASE 😭😭

⤿ user yn gets to kiss these three everyday... are you guys looking for a 5th party to your relationship ? I volunteer 🙂 !

user bye they're so cute omfg.

vincedunn

liked by brandontanev, charles_leclerc, and 67 332 others

vincedunn life's been pretty perfect lately 💌

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user crying on the highway.

ynusername you three are the perfect ones 🥰

⤿ vincedunn don't start with me baby

⤿ ren__k1 I will headlock you again, and you know know it.

⤿ ynusername I do know it, and I'm waiting.

[ liked by ren__k1 ]

user OH- mother is bold damn

user yn wearing his jersey 🥺

user them>>> the world.

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, christianhorner, and 1 223 453 likes

maxverstappen1 loving this little life of mine :)

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sebastianvettel not ren and vince suffocating my sister

⤿ ynusername I'm alive seb

⤿ sebastianvettel are you though ? are you really ? cause girl, you manage three hotheads, and I don't know how you do it.

⤿ ren__k1 honestly don't know how she does it either seb, but I'm not complaining.

user seb being concerned for yn having the bfs she does is weirdly hilarious to me

user I pray for anyone idiot who ever tries to cross yn honestly

user one look in yn's direction and i bet they pounce.

⤿ ynusername I can confirm this statement.

⤿ zendaya scariest shit I've ever seen in ma life.

⤿ landonorris I'm a victim.

⤿vincedunn I APOLOGIZED for that lando, I didn't know you at the time !

⤿ landonorris and yet, I can still feel the remnants of the fire of your gaze burning into my head.

⤿ maxverstappen1 my god you're dramatic.

ren__k1

liked by yukitsunoda0511, sebastianvettel, and 566 335 others

ren__k1 この人生にとても満足しています

[ trans: so happy with this life ]

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ynusername aishitemasu 💗

⤿ ren__k1 watashi wa anata o motto aishiteimasu purinsesu 💗

user ya'll I saw them at the pride parade yesterday and I CRIED they're so sweet and I was able to get a picture with them 🤧

⤿ user the way they tools turns carrying her on their backs was so cute pls

⤿ user the princess treatment is unmatched.

⤿ ynusername 🏳️‍🌈🤘

⤿ user QUEEN !

vincedunn ren, will u come stream with me please ?

⤿ ren__k1 isn't it max's turn ?

⤿ maxverstappen1 nu-uh, I streamed with him last week.

⤿ vincedunn and max, I love you, but you talk too much and you keep telling me what to do in MY game.

⤿ maxverstappen1 you literally told me you loved having me ??? two-faced. you even said ren is too quiet and broody.

⤿ ren__k1 because I hate streaming and vince KNOWS that.

⤿ ynusername boys.

⤿ vincedunn sorry.

⤿ maxverstappen1 sorry.

⤿ ren__k1 gomen.

⤿ ynusername so who's turn is it to stream with v ?

⤿ ren__k1 ...mine

⤿ ynusername and, are you going to ?

⤿ ren__k1 yes ma'am.

user damn.

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[kathlare]

crossroads of the past

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Set amidst the vibrant energy of race day in Austin, the chapter explores the internal struggles of Lando Norris as he wrestles with unresolved emotions and the weight of an unexpected upcoming reunion.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

October 22nd, 2023 - Austin, TX

The dry Texas heat hung over the Circuit of the Americas like a heavy blanket, even in the morning. Lando leaned against the side of the flatbed truck, the one they'd all pile into for the driver parade. Around him, engines roared faintly in the background, and the buzz of fans filtered through the paddock. The energy of race day always had a distinct pulse to it, but today, his mind felt... elsewhere.

—This fucking heat, man,— Charles muttered, running a hand through his damp hair as he leaned against the same truck. —Why does it always feel like we're about to melt here?—

Lando chuckled, dragging a hand through his own hair. —At least it's not humid. Could be worse.— His tone was light, but his head was far from the conversation.

The group of drivers waited together, some talking animatedly while others scrolled on their phones or sipped water. Checo, standing with his arms crossed and a small grin on his face, looked particularly content.

—What’s with the smile, mate?— George asked, his British accent cutting through the air as he nudged Checo lightly. —Did you finally bribe Christian to let you swap cars with Max?—

The group laughed, but Checo waved a hand dismissively. —No, no. Just excited for next week.—

—Ah, Mexico,— Alex chimed in, nodding thoughtfully. —Always such a good crowd there. They love you, don’t they?—

Checo smiled proudly, his chest puffing slightly. —Of course. It’s always special to race at home. My family will all be there, Stella too, and her side of the family is coming as well.—

At this, Lando’s ears perked up. His grip on the railing of the truck tightened slightly, though he kept his face neutral.

—Amelie’s coming too, I imagine?— Charles asked casually, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Checo nodded, not noticing the way Lando stiffened beside him. —Yeah, of course. She wouldn’t miss it. She’s been busy with projects this year, but family’s family. She’ll be there.—

Lando’s chest felt tight, like the heat of the Texan sun had turned inward and was pressing against his ribs. He turned his gaze to the horizon, pretending to focus on the distant grandstands, but his mind was already racing. Amelie. He hadn’t seen her since July at Penelope’s birthday party, and even then, they hadn’t exchanged more than a stilted greeting.

It was hard not to let her name pull him under. Amelie. A name he’d tried to push out of his head more times than he could count, only for it to find its way back like a stubborn echo. Every time he thought of her, it was like opening an old wound—one that never quite healed, no matter how much time had passed.

Lando swallowed, forcing himself to stay rooted in the present. But Checo’s words had stirred something in him, a restless energy he hadn’t expected. Next week in Mexico. She’d be there.

For a moment, the noise around him seemed to fade. Lando stared ahead, his jaw tightening. He tried to remind himself how things had been left between them: messy, unresolved, and painful. Yet, even with all the bitter memories, all the fights and misunderstandings, there was a spark of something else—a longing that he couldn’t quite shake.

—You alright there, mate?— George’s voice snapped him back to the present. Lando blinked, realizing he’d been gripping the edge of the truck a little too tightly.

—Yeah, yeah,— he said quickly, forcing a grin. —Just zoned out. Heat’s getting to me.—

George raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Around them, the conversation shifted to strategy, tires, and turn specifics. But Lando’s mind was stuck on Checo’s words. Family’s family. She’ll be there.

He didn’t need a reminder of how close Amelie was to Checo’s family—or to her sister Stella, who had practically become his surrogate big sister during his early F1 years. For better or worse, their paths were always intertwined, even if he tried to avoid it. And now, he’d have to see her again in Mexico.

The last time they’d spoken properly felt like a lifetime ago. It was May 2021, right before everything crumbled between them. She was busy filming Wicked, her star rising higher than ever, while he was in the thick of the F1 season. At the time, it felt like their lives were moving in completely different directions, and Lando had convinced himself that walking away was the best choice. He’d even told himself it was mutual—she was too busy, he was too busy—but deep down, he knew better. He’d hurt her. And in the process, he’d hurt himself too.

And then there was Penelope’s birthday in July. That fleeting moment when they crossed paths again, and all he could manage was a pathetic, awkward “hi.” She hadn’t looked angry, but she hadn’t looked happy to see him either. Just indifferent. And somehow, that hurt more than anything.

—You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?— Charles’ voice cut through his thoughts, quiet enough that only Lando could hear.

Lando turned sharply, his face flushing. —What? No. Who?—

Charles gave him a knowing look, leaning closer so the others wouldn’t hear. —Amelie. Don’t bullshit me, mate. You’ve had that same look on your face since Checo brought her up.—

Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. —Fuck off, Charles.—

—Relax,— Charles said with a smirk. —I’m just saying, maybe you should talk to her. It’s been what, two years? You can’t avoid her forever.—

—We don’t talk for a reason,— Lando muttered, his voice low. —And it’s not exactly the kind of thing you just... fix overnight.—

Charles shrugged, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the truck. —Maybe. But if you’re still thinking about her this much, maybe it’s worth trying. You’re not the same guy you were two years ago. At least, I hope not.—

Lando didn’t respond, but the words hit him harder than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t the same guy he’d been in 2021. Or at least, he hoped he wasn’t. Back then, he’d been impulsive, selfish, and too wrapped up in his own insecurities to realize what he had until it was gone. Now, two years later, he’d like to think he’d grown up—at least a little.

But would Amelie see that? Would she even care?

—Alright, lads, time to load up!— one of the organizers called, gesturing for the drivers to climb onto the truck.

As they moved into position, Lando’s thoughts were still spinning. Next week, he’d see her again. He didn’t know how, or when, or what he’d even say to her, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

This was his chance. His chance to prove to her—and to himself—that he’d changed. That he could be the guy she needed, the guy she deserved.

And maybe, just maybe, he could fix what he’d broken.

[wardentabriis]

I haven't finished it yet, but have a little bit of the upcoming Lin/Lucanis wedding for Rook Wednesday :3

It's not what House Dellamorte would have wanted for its favorite son. No chantry, no wedding bells, no parading down the streets of Treviso. Still, Arlathan Forest is beautiful in a way only something so far from any city can be. At night, the glow of wild magic illuminates the sky like an ever-shifting aurora. The Veil is thin here, and the smell of burning kindling is heavy in the air.

“Fireflies,” Lin says, holding out his hand to one of the glowing insects floating through the Veil Jumpers’ camp. It alights on his outstretched finger, pulsing yellow-green. Before he can offer it to Lucanis, it flits away once more. “Flighty little things, beautiful nonetheless.”

In the bonfire light, the violet details of Lucanis’ black coat shimmer, embroidery shining with silver threads. It lays open over a simple undershirt, ruffles peeking out at his wrists, accompanied simply by high-waisted trousers and his newest, least worn-in pair of knee-high boots. It’s not what he’d wear for a chantry wedding, Lin knows that much, but it’s far more suited to a night of revelry in the middle of the woods.

Lin considered wearing his Warden dress uniform for a brief moment before they left, but it didn't feel right. Not to mention how poorly it fit when he tried it on for the first time in months. He opted for loose blue tunic and trousers he bought in Treviso, decorated with a navy and silver silk shawl. It felt right, somehow.

He asked Harding to braid Brona’s bloom into his hair tonight. She’d been bedridden in the Lighthouse infirmary for weeks, but Lin wasn’t about to let her miss out. Neither was she, it seemed, considering Eavan carried her here.

There’s hardly a soul missing among their friends, come to think of it. Surprising, considering how quickly they’d put everything together; then again, access to an eluvian network doesn’t hurt when it comes to planning.

It feels wrong to call the guests a rag-tag group. Some are far too important for that label. In any other circumstance, having the Lord Inquisitor, the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, the acting First Warden, the Imperial Divine, and the Archon of Tevinter seated around a fire in the middle of Arlathan would seem like an assassin’s dream. Not when the Crows are involved; at least not when the Fifth and Seventh Talon are present.

“Does it bother you?” Lin asks, caution tempering his voice. “Caterina not being here?”

Lucanis doesn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t know. She asked if I was joking when I invited her. And when I said I wasn’t...”

“You don’t have to tell me, not if you don’t want to say it.”

“She said I must be trying to fix my mistakes.”

“...Ah. I see.”

Lucanis rests his hand on Lin’s arm. “This is not a mistake. You are not a mistake.”

“I don’t think you’d be marrying me if you thought so.” Lin laughs, but it catches in his throat. “Creators, that’s strange to say. I never thought I’d get married. Honestly, I thought I'd succumb to the blight before I had the chance.”

[defrosted69]

My Laker star (Lesserafim)

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I had this custom story made when I was watching the game and realized that Lesserafim was at the building. so it may not be perfect and I have decided to change it up a bit. (7k words)

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"Y/N McDaniels with the ball. He faces up against his opponent and goes into a smooth crossover, faking right and then slicing diagonally to his left. His defender is slow to react, and he blows past him with a step to his right, going up with the layup. He puts it up with authority, sinking the shot, and the crowd goes wild as the Lakers take the lead!"

"McDaniels on defense now, his opponent trying to drive to the hoop, but Y/N stands his ground and uses his superior length to contest the shot, and it's a miss!"

"McDaniels has been on fire tonight; nobody has been able to stop him. He gets the ball on the break, and he's one-on-one against his defender. He puts the ball down and drives, beating his man and going up for the layup, but his opponent puts a hand on the ball and tries to block the shot. It could have been a foul, but the refs let the play go on! McDaniels brings it down and puts it up again, sinking the shot! Another bucket for McDaniels!"

"McDaniels has it at the top of the key. He sees LeBron James open down low, and he makes the perfect pass, whipping it down the court with lightning speed. LeBron jumps up to meet it, and he throws the ball down with authority, and the crowd goes wild as the Lakers stretch out their lead. McDaniels and James are working great together tonight, and the crowd loves it!"

The huge ovation from the audience caused Kazuha's phone to ring, surprising her members who were gathering their breath after packing their belongings. With their hard work and sacrifice, the world has gradually acknowledged the ability of six girls who only wanted to play on stage.

"Zuha, What are you watching? Sounds like a parade there?"

Chaewon, their leader, inquired as she sipped her drink. When the firm gave them a ton of work, they didn't grumble and instead went out to perform with their hearts out, giving as much as their fans gave to them. To them, being an artist is not as simple as it appears. Some must make significant sacrifices in order to make their debut and demonstrate their skills. Because the sacrifices often may not equal the return, being a successful artist sometimes need luck.

"Ah, Sorry Unnie…my bad hehe.."

As a brilliant smile came on Kazuha's face, she murmured humbly. She was so engrossed in what she was viewing that she forgot about her surroundings, but can she really blame herself? When someone is completely absorbed in what they are doing. They tend to lose sight of the people around them and concentrate only on what they are doing. In this example, Kazuha was watching a thrilling Los Angeles Lakers game.

"Hearing the sounds…is that a basketball game Zuha?"

"Oh yeah Unnie."

"Eeeppp!! Is that the Lakers?! Girl let me watch!"

Yunjin dropped her luggage and sat next to Kazuha, her gaze fixed on her phone. The viewing tool for the game was minimal, but for die-hard fans like Kazuha and Yunjin, it was far superior to watching streams with so many strange adverts plastered left and right on a website.

"Eh? Yunjin, you watch basketball?"

Sakura inquired, closing her suitcase carefully. Sakura has already checked her suitcase three times to ensure that everything she needs for their short holiday is in there. Her suitcase was more ordered than their Maknae's luggage, who wasn't even packing and was sleeping. Sakura sighed as she began organizing their Maknae's stuff and placing everything in her suitcase.

"Of course Kkura Unnie. I have a few friends in New York who are basketball Junkies. Heck, I used to play basketball with them a few times before."

Sakura nodded in agreement as Yunjin's response demonstrated his familiarity with basketball. Given that she grew up in New York and discovered that their culture was much different from the society to which they were used. Sakura, on the other hand, knows basketball for two reasons. One is that in the early phases of her career, she was urged to do insane things in order to be elected, and basketball was one of them. She still suffers nightmares when she tries to remember those events. The second is that her childhood pal is now a basketball player. She last heard from him when he moved to the United States to play collegiate basketball, and after that, all forms of communication were cut off.

"Eh? You used to play Basketball Unnie?"

"The opposing team is looking to get an easy layup off of a fast break. McDaniels races back down the court to do his best to stop the play, but the defender is already airborne, ready to dunk the ball into the basket. McDaniels jumps, putting his body on the line to try to reach the ball. He tips it with his fingertips, and LeBron James comes soaring in from behind, blocking the ball and preventing the opposing team from scoring. McDaniels and LeBron high five as they force a turnover."

Yunjin nodded her head as her mouth formed an oh shape as she just saw an amazing play from the king, Lebron James.

"Yeah. Basket is literally a part of American culture there so yeah. Anyway, What's the age of Lebron again? He isn't suppose to be doing this things at year 21! My god…"

Yunjin was left speechless and at awe by the amazing feat Lebron James was showing. But Kazuha was more focused on the efforts of the other player. Y/N McDaniels. Kazuha knew that Lebron was the one who erased that easy layup but she knows that Your the one who prevented it to even making it graze the rim at all.

"Well He's Lebron Unnie. What can you say?"

As the opposition team requested a timeout, Kazuha laughed gently. Growing up, Kazuha was a tremendous basketball lover since her father was a huge basketball fan. Either the A or the B. The NBA or the Premier League. She recalls becoming exposed to the game of basketball during the 2009 NBA Finals. It was Game 6 of the NBA Finals, and Kobe and the Los Angeles Lakers were giving the Boston Celtics a fight for their money. Kazuha saw his father so engrossed in the game that she imagined herself in the stadium with her father, watching the game. Some would claim it's dull to watch, and who could blame them?

10 guys try to get a ball and score on each other and it just repeats over and over again. What's so fun about that? Add in the stereo type that Girls don't like basketball because it's too simple just makes Kazuha love the game even more.

Basketball became her method to hang out and interact with her father over time, since they were both die-hard Lakers fans. The Lakers have long been popular across the world, thanks to Kobe Bryant. His fame, combined with his influence, made the Lakers renowned all over the world, as it is constantly rated first in the world. So it's no surprise that the majority of the individuals Kazuha knows are huge Lakers fans. It is, after all, the city of angels..

"Hmm.. That guy McDaniels seems familiar and good too don't you think Zuha?"

Yunjin inquired as Kazuha nodded. Throughout the game, Kazuha was analyzing every player's mistakes and excellent plays, and in her opinion, you were the one with the fewest bad plays and the most team plays. Of course, she recognized your name; after all, you were the first rookie to lead your team to the Western Conference without any assistance.

"Of course Unnie. He's actually the only rookie to bring the lakers to the west conference finals when Lebron, AD, Dlo and Reaves were all injured. He went head to head with the Golden State warriors and got the respect from Curry, Klay, Draymond and even Kerr. Obviously the lakers lost because He was just a rookie but he made Golden state question their defensive scheme to stop him. "

Kazuha's words were full of pride in them as she spoke with confidence. She will never forget the headlines you made during that series and it was the buzz until the season ended. Expectations were set high for you following your next season and you didn't dissapoint at all.

"Oooh he sounds like a problem. So did he perform well his next season? Last year? Did he?"

Yunjin eagerly asked as Kazuha smiled and nodded her head.

"Yeah Unnie. He actually destroyed all expectations and showed the world and the team that he's legit. There were concerns about his fit with Lebron and AD but he showed them that he's a team player."

Everyone was taken aback by her remark. Few individuals can swallow their pride, especially in basketball, where many players are overly full of themselves and want to prove that they belong in the NBA. With the added pressure of playing with LeBron, your faith in yourself was unshaken, and it just fueled your desire to win.

"Seems like an amazing player. Also… He's kinda cute in a way.."

Yunjin said as she eyes you from Kazuha's phone. Chaewon sighed and gently smacked her arm reminding her that they are idols and not any ordinary people.

"Yah Huh Yunjin. Don't do anything stupid when we go to the states got it? We're still idols remember that."

Chaewon's leader side was showing as Yunjin could only laugh at her remark. Of course Yunjin was only half joking about her comment on you. Again, the word there is Half joking meaning, in a sense, she was admitting a small truth in her words.

"I know I know. I'm just half Joking Unnie hehehe~"

"Yah Yunjin."

The two began to do a playful banter as Kazuha was once again focused on the game. Sakura finally finished fixing the luggage of Eunchae who happens to wake up from all the noise her Unnies were doing.

"Did..did I miss something?"

Eunchae yawned as she slowly stretched her arms up trying to wake her body up.

"Not much. Just the typical chaos your used to Eunchae. Also, try to lessen your clothes in your bag. You have more clothes than me."

Sakura scolded their youngest who just cutely smiled at her as she knows that Sakura would listen to her no matter how much she scolds her. After all, Sakura loves her too much.

"It's fine Kkura Unnie. It's cold there in America and it's better to have thick clothing right? Hehehe~"

Eunchae did have a point as autumn has finally started in that country. But then again, Sakura knows that Eunchae would be spending a lot of her allowance in buying clothes there so what's the point of her grabbing many clothes when she will just buy new ones there? This somehow confused Sakura but she still had to scold her for it.

Meanwhile, the game concluded for the victory of the Lakers despite them struggling earlier on with their shooting which was always been the problem. There was this crazy conspiracy that all shooters that come to play for the Lakers suddenly forgot how to shoot the ball into the net. Of course seeing the terrible 3 point shooting of the Lakers pissed Kazuha off. But then again, the lights are the brightess in Los Angeles so that could be a huge contributor to why some of their players shoot bricks.

"Everyone! Have you all packed your stuff? Remember, we're going to watch the Lakers game in a few days from now after our short vacation in New York."

Their manager arrived in their dorm suprising everyone with what she just said. Kazuha's eyes widen hoping that she wasn't hearing things just now. Everyone was frozen shut as Chaewon tried to confirm what they all heard.

"Wait Unnie. We're.. We're going to watch an NBA Game? The lakers?"

Their manager nodded her head confirming that they infact heard the right thing.

"They Invited you girls to watch their game against the Clippers. And they also have you girls buy whatever you want in Los Angeles NBA store."

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"Shit Man I'm tired.."

You sat in your place behind your locker as the squad pulled off a hard-fought triumph against the opposition. Playing on the road has always been difficult since the supporters would be cheering on their squad, which may be detrimental to any team. So you have to be prepared to perform well and bring your best against road opponents, otherwise the media will either condemn or acclaim you. There was no middle ground.

"Well we got the dub, that's all that matters. Now we have a 3 day rest before we return home and play against the Clippers"

Austin Reaves, your teammates spoke making you sigh deeply. Even though that team was in the same city as yours, they have been quite the nuisance with all the noise they have been making in social media. Sure some of those don't really affect you too much but the fact that ESPN always hype them up like that have achieve something annoyed you. For you personally, your a person who doesn't really have a talent to basketball at all.

You just worked your ass off to where you have been.

"Nah like they probably gonna play like it's Game 7 or something against us again."

Anthony Davis added to the group. Even though AD was a very dominant starting this season, there was. A few instances where he would dissappear in the 2nd half of the game and it's either Lebron, Dlo, Austin or you has to carry that slack up. But considering the start of this season, he's playing like a Defensive player of the year so far and the most important thing is that he's healthy to start the season.

"Don't let all that get in your heads. They wanna start putting all this in your head so that when the game arrives, you will be shaken"

As LeBron talked, the atmosphere in the room calmed down. He has always been admired and idolized by many people, and his skill set at his age just serves to reinforce why he is regarded as an all-time great in the sport of basketball. Not only that, but he has been an excellent mentor to you from your first year with the team. His training routines were difficult, but you kept going because you didn't want to be pleased with an alright outcome; you wanted a greater result.

"Alright Guys. Great win today but for now, let's all rest and pick up our practice once we returned to LA okay?"

Coach Darvin said as everyone nodded at him. He may have been doing some questionable lineup for the past 3 seasons but right now, with you at the starting lineup, he finally found the recipe to win games and close them out. Coach Darvin also has been a big part of your rise to all star level as he has been training you on and off the court about Basketball and about life as a whole. You got nothing but respect for him. As everyone was preparing to leave the arena and head to their hotel, Austin pulled you to the side confusing you.

"Hey man, let's walk around New York shall we?"

"For what?"

"Oh come on don't be a party pooper. This is the only time we get to New York you know. Come in dawg, I just wanna walk man."

You sighed at his recommendation. As weird as it sounds, This was the only time you'll visit the Knicks this season as the second time you'll meet would be in your home court. Most of the time, you'll face a team at least 3 times but for this season, You'll only face the Knicks twice. And New York has always been an iconic place in the whole world so why not visit it around right?

"Alright, alright."

"That's my brotha right there. Alright let's go."

Austin Changed his outfit to his regular clothes and by that, it mean his hoodie and pants. No fancy clothing or anything like that. Austin in your eyes has always been a simple man but you could guess that a huge part of that is his place of birth and growing up in.

As you two exited the arena, you were welcomed with a massive edifice and a plethora of lights that represented New York City's nightlife. You were surprised at how many people flocked to this location despite the large crowds. The numerous digital billboards drew your attention as award shows and musicians were advertised on the colorful billboard.

"This is so different than LA…"

Austin could only laugh at you remark as he couldn't help but add in his own joke.

"You should visit Arkansas, you'll be greeted by cows and beautiful grass than this."

"Sounds relaxing in my opinon."

He laughed as both of you continued to walk. Many kinds of act was caught by your eyes ranging from magic tricks, mimes and the one that caught your eye is a bunch of people dancing to some Korean music.

"Hey, why are there so many people dancing to a song they can't understand."

Austin looked at you rather annoyed and in disbelief. He was kinda caught off guard with your question as he took a few seconds to answer you.

"Dude, Music transcends language. It's a universal language that no words needed."

"Right…."

You realized how stupid you looked asking that question so you just decided to ask a different question this time. Something more reasonable.

"Then what music is that?"

"That's Kpop bro haven't heard of it?"

He looked at you with an eye raised eyebrow. He looked rather quite suprised by you not knowing Kpop since it's kinda blowing up in the west. Even kids nowadays nows Kpop and have many Kpop artist on their Spotify Playlist.

"Sorry I haven't. Educate me AR"

"Fuck you man. I'm older than you, But basically Kpop is Korean Pop. That's it. It has many groups doing many category of that genre."

"Such as?"

"Cute, girl crush, retro and many more. Some are experimental"

You were quiet suprised by the many genres of one music has but you have to consider that Kpop is a pop music and pop Music can vary from time to time depending on what the listener wants.

"I see…I wonder if Jen achieved being an Idol…"

"Who?"

You shook your head not wanting to confuse AR further. You just smiled and nodded your head.

"Sounds intriguing"

"Oh it is. Anyway, buy me a New York Hotdog rookie"

"But I'm already in my Sophomore year."

"Did I stutter?"

You groan at him and walked away from where he was standing. You can see him enjoying the people dancing to Kpop songs and for you, it was interesting to say the least. It's music was something you haven't heard yet and it's not bad to try something new once in a while. Perhaps you should take this Kpop music a thing a chance and who knows, you could end up enjoying it.

As you approached the food truck with Hotdog on the menu, your eyes searched for the neighboring hotdog stand. But something else drew your attention away from the menu. You noticed the merchant attempting to communicate in English with a female wearing a hat and mask. You could see the bewilderment and fear in her eyes. You sighed as you noticed a long queue forming behind her, so you sped your feet and stood behind her, hoping to assist her.

"Is everything okay Miss?"

You asked as she look behind you and you saw her look up from her height as her changes to look of confusion and worry to amazement.

"Uhh… Food.. Eerr….want..This.."

She was trying her best to communicate with her broken English as she pointed at the Hotdog with bacon in them. You immedietly knew what she was trying to say as you nodded and spoke her order.

"Sir, she's ordering 5 Hotdogs with bacon toppings in them."

And just like that, the vendor sold her 5 hotdogs which she payed well for. It wasn't much of a big deal for you helping her but in her eyes, she was so glad someone from a foreign land helped her.

"Ah thank you very much~"

Her voice was high pitched and you would though that she was a singer with how her voice sounded.

"It's no problem miss. Hope you enjoy your food"

"Ah, You too."

It was preety obvious that English wasn't her primary language as you can hear the forces accent in her words but you didn't pay mind to it as you just nodded your head as she left with her food and you ordered your own. You pulled out your wallet hoping that it wad empty but you forgot your a millionaire athlete as you cursed AR.

"Damn you Austin!"

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Kazuha was lounging on her bed, watching highlights of the Lakers vs. Knicks game that had just ended. Despite their hunger, they waited for Chaewon to return with their New York Hot dogs with patience. Kazuha was so engrossed in the game highlights that she couldn't help but replay the highlight of the Lakers' action every time. But her heart would race as the scoreboard went from 2 to 7 down in an instant.

She is aware that the Lakers have a tendency to forget how to shoot, especially in crucial times, but based on the clips she was viewing, the Lakers were able to hold themselves to catch or tie the score. But, among the Lakers players she was watching on the phone, her gaze was drawn to you since your team's performance usually amazes her. She knows you had the ability to take over and fire as many rounds as you want, but you weren't pressing the trigger. Kazuha understands that basketball is a team sport, not an individual sport, and that getting the team involved in a play is what important in basketball.

"I'm back!"

Chaewon's voice made everyone look at her with a grin as their leader was back safely with food at hand. Eunchae ran out of her bed quickly as she rushed towards Chaewon sniffing the food in her hand.

"Gimme gimme gimme please~~"

Eunchae's cuteness was over the roof for Chaewon but Sakura once again scolded her.

"Yah, Eunchae Wait for everyone okay?"

Eunchae could only pout her lips as Kazuha pauses the video on her phone and went towards Chaewon with a small grin seeing her safe.

"Welcome home Unnie. How was your English skills?"

Yunjin smirked hoping to hear great news from her but Chaewon just simply chuckled and scratched the back of her head signaling that something didn't go well for her.

"Hehe… I kinda fumbled my English when I was speaking with a local. Hehehe…"

Chaewon shyly smiled as she felt embarrassed by what happened earlier. Everyone knew that Chaewon was confident in her English as she was practicing really hard for it and Kazuha knows it too. So for her to say that she failed means that Chaewon needed more practice. Sakura distrubuted the food to each one of them as Yunjin asked Chaewon.

"So how were you able to order this then Unnie?"

Their attention went to Chaewon who suddenly got embarrassed with their stares. For her, it felt she was the center of attention and she wasn't familiar with such feelings.

"Oh umm.. A tall person helped me out. I was kinda scared at first since he looked so tall but he ended up helping me out."

"A tall person? What does he look like Unnie?"

Eunchae asked seemingly intrigued as everyone else. Chaewon tried to recall your feature but the only thing she could remember was how nice you were to her.

"He's tall. I feel like he's an athlete and he's nice too."

Sakura widen her eyes as she immediately asked

"Does he look Japanese?!"

Chaewon shook her head making Sakura sigh and look away dissapointed. Kazuha noticed this and perhaps there was something more than what meets the eye for her.

"Well anyway, we should start getting ready after we eat as our flight will be tonight alright?"

Chaewon reminded them all that they still need to fly to LA since the Lakers invited them to their game. Kazuha suddenly got excited once again as the though of seeing you and the team as whole got her feeling excited and nervous at the same time.

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After a few days of seeing Los Angeles and shopping at the NBA store, it was finally time to meet the Lakers and witness their game versus their hometown rivals, the Los Angeles Clippers. When they arrived to the Staples Center, Kazuha was overjoyed. She never imagined witnessing a statue of Magic Johnson in front of her eyes, yet here she is. She took out her phone and began photographing the iconic Magic Johnson, but she was surprised when Mr. Magic appeared in front of them.

They were all looking uo to him who showed a sweet smile at them as they all shook their hands with him. Lesserafim was one of the tallest kpop idol group in south Korea especially Yunjin and Kazuha but standing next to Magic Johnson made them look like average people.

"It's nice to see and meet you girls. Congratulations to your shows Ladies. Can we take a picture?"

Despite him being tall, in their eyes, Magic Johnson was a big ball of sunshine who's smile radiates infront of them. But Kazuha was the most thrilled one when Magic himself asked for a picture with them. Her smile was reaching her ears as Magic Johnson told them to enjoy the lakers game which they will.

Their Manager told them to follow them as they will be guided to the Lakers court which at this point, everyone was excited to see but Kazuha was the most thrilled one. Wearing a custom jersey given to them by the Lakers, getting welcomed by a laker legend, taking a picture with him and now seeing the court first? This was a dream come true for Kazuha.

"Zuha your excitement is showing through your smile."

Sakura said as a chuckle escape from her mouth. Kazuha shyly blushed but smiled happily as her excitement was just off the roof right now. From watching the Laker on her TV and Phone to actually sitting Courtside and walking in the laker court was her dream come true.

"How can I Unnie? This feels so surreal and its my dream come true!"

Sakura could only laugh at her as they were walking the halls of the Lakers. Painting of the great players who wore the purple and gold was hanged on the walls as Yunjin and Kazuha were happily explaining who these players are. The rest were happily listening as they finally arrived at the court of the lakers. The arena was empty as the game wasn't until 10pm tonight. It was here that the girls realized how small they really are compared to NBA players.

"Wow… The rim is so tall.."

Eunchae said as she looked up the rim like it was a big giant tree infront of her. Yunjin chuckled and patted her shoulder.

"Thats why the NBA athlete are crazy good. Imagine shooting so far or even getting into the rim."

Eunchae nodded as the group spotted a few of their fans as well as they greeted them and had a chance to interact with them. Sakura smile quickly dissappeared when she noticed their fans jersey number familiar with her and a name that she was familiar with. Chaewon noticed this as she talked to her.

"Is everything Okay Unnie?"

"H-Huh? O-Oh yeah.."

Sakura returned her smile like usual but something didn't sit well with Chaewon. Meanwhile, Yunjin decided to take picture of them as a whole with the Lakers logo behind them. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for them to step foot on an NBA court and even walk on it. Their manager told them that the lakers have a suprise for them which got the girls intrigued. Eunchae wanted to know what the suprise is but instead, their manager told them that she can't reveal it yet as it will happen during the game.

The girls then went to their seats waiting for the game to start as the crowd was finally filling up the arena. One by one the players were coming out of the locker room and into the court as Chaewon and Yunjin gasped seeing a familiar face. Kazuha smiled happily to see her favorite player out and Sakura gasped seeing a ghost of her past.

"Y/N?!! YOU'RE AN NBA PLAYER NOW?!!"

Yujin's voice was so loud that despite the many people, you heard her as your eyes landed on her. You widen your eyes in suprise seeing Jennifer on the Courtside with a different hair color but you were damn sure she was that Girl you know back in New York. You smiled and went near her seat as Yunjin did the same. Kazuha was shocked that her favorite player was acquainted with Yunjin as Yunjin Rushes towards you hugging you tightly making the girls shocked.

"Y/N! It really is you!!"

Her tight embrace made you feel your chest getting crushed and the air shortening as you breath.

"J-Jen.. I.. Can't breath.."

"Opps. My bad hehe."

Yunjin chuckled as she let go of you. She looked you up and down looking so proud of you as her smile was the proof of that.

"Wow look at you, already an NBA player huh? Damn Daniels, I didn't know you were like that."

"What can I say? I'm guessing you made it too right?"

"You bet! Look look! My jersey is custom gifted by your team!"

Yunjin happily showed you her jersey which you were at awe from. You begin to question why the office didn't told you that a Kpop artist was in the building and more importantly, it was your friend Jennifer. Yunjin called upon her members as they made their way towards you. Chaewon was shocked because the person that helped her out back in New York was you.

"Hey guys meet my friend Y/N McDaniels."

They waved at you as Chaewon smiled at you cutely. Your eyes landed on Chaewon and her eyes immediately made you feel like you have seen her before.

"Have I… Seen you before Miss?"

Chaewon nodded as Yunjin gasped in suprised.

"Oh my! So your that tall person that helped her in that Hotdog stand?"

You nodded your head as Chaewon smiled and bowed at you thanking you for that time of helping her.

"I'm Kim Chaewon. Nice to meet you and thank you"

Her voice made you blush right away since you thought it was charming. Your face flushed with embarrassment as you realized what had happened. You were staring at five attractive females in front of you, and the notion made you feel self-conscious.

"Oh umm.. N-Nice to meet you too.. I-I mean nice to meet you all…"

Yunjin noticed your shy demeanor as a smirk appeared on her face. She playfully nudged you as she found a way to tease you.

"Hohoho~ Look at this, this guy is getting flustered~"

"W-Well why wouldn't I? I'm infront of 5 beautiful ladies."

Yunjin was taken aback by your response, as her cheeks grew rose-colored and her eyes widened. Her heart began to beat faster, and her pupils became wider. This sensation was familiar to her, but she didn't expect it to happen to you.

Kazuha decided to take over as she smiled and offered you a handshake which you accepted.

"Hi, I'm Nakamura Kazuha. I'm a fan of yours."

Kazuha brightly smiled and that alone made you blush even more. There was this pulling string towards Kazuha that got you staring at her beauty. Her smile was so bright that it lighten up your mood even though your not sad yourself.

Chaewon saw that you and Kazuha were staring at each other as she decided to grab your attention with a cough. That snapped both of you as you and Kazuha pulled each other's hand away from each other. Both your cheeks were blushing as Chaewon smiled and offered a handshake.

"Hi again. My name is Chaewon~"

Her cute voice reall got your heart racing and it got you feeling different. You shook her hand and just like Kazuha and Yunjin, her hand was soft and fluffy to touch as your blush only gotten redder.

"Thank you again for helping me."

"A-ah no it's nothing.. Anything to help."

"That's so cute to hear. Hehehe~"

If your think your cheeks couldn't get any redder, it just got redder. Chaewon has this cuteness factor which got you captivated and cling to her. In all honesty, she's quite dangerous for your heart as she could effortlessly grab your heart without you resisting.

"Me! Me! My turn! Me next!"

Eunchae was enthusiastic to meet you as Chaewon pulled away shyly. She herself felt lost in those eyes of yours as she blushes a little and looks away. Eunchae happily and energetically shook your hand which made you smile happily.

"Hong Eunchae!! Hehehe~"

She was really cute with her smile but what got you was her energetic aura that she was showing. She was like a pure ball of energy that just make you smile. In a sense, it made you feel like you need to protect her from the harshness of the world.

Last but not the least was Sakura who smiled happily at you as you shook her hand.

"I'm Miyawaki Sakura. Nice to meet you."

"Hi Ms. Sakura. Are you Japanese?"

"Yes I am."

"Ohhh just like Rui."

Sakura stood frozen upon hearing your word. Everything was starting to line up for her as to why she was given the jersey number by the lakers. Her suspicions could have been answered as You notice her staring blankly at you.

"Sakura? You alright?"

"H-Huh? O-Oh yeah. I'm fine. Is this Rui… Named Rui Hachimura?"

"Yeah."

That was it. Sakura was right all along. Rui Hachimura is here in the NBA. Her eyes began to dart everyone trying to look for him as Yunjin decided to slip in to talk to you again.

"Well you know our seat Y/N, that means you know where to look at hehe~"

Yunjin's words was kinda filled with teasing and a little bit flirty as Kazuha and Chaewon got what Yunjin was planning too. Chaewon was filled with worry about her Idol career if she was to get into a scandal with you. Kazuha on the other hand felt jealous that Yunjin was a step ahead of her when it comes to getting to know you. She pouted her cheeks as she looked down a little annoyed by herself.

"Alright, alright. Well I hope you enjoy the game guys."

You smiled once again before returning to the court warming up with your teammates. They returned to their seat as all of them began asking Yunjin how she was familiar with you. Sakura on the other hand was solely focusing her stare at one player, and his jersey number 28. She was feeling a mixed emotions seeing him as she has many questions more than answers.

"どうして私を捨てたの?"

(Why did you leave me?)

.

.

.

.

The buzzer sounded and the atmosphere was filled with energy coming from the lakers fan as a whole. Lesserafim was shocked to see how passionate the fans of the lakers were but they immediately got themselves immerse into the game.

When your name was introduced, Lesserafim was hyped up cheering you on as Yunjin and Kazuha took Out their phones taking a picture of you on the big screen.

After trailing and suffering from the 1st half, Lesserafim realized how stressful it is to watch a game for the Lakers and how great it feels to comeback from a huge lead. They could feel the intensity of the game and the support of the fan cheering on.

"Wow this is… So this is the feeling of Live NBA basketball.."

Kazuha said as her dream of being in the NBA has finally happened. It was dream come true for her seeing NBA players up live and seeing you up close.

"I think my throat is getting dry from screaming earlier…"

Eunchae remarked, making the others laugh. What she claimed was correct since they had entirely forgotten that they were Kpop Idols while immersed in the game. Sakura was screaming her lungs out trying to defend the Lakers from questionable fouls, Chaewon was trying to understand the game but she was also cheering and defending the Lakers, Kazuha was explaining the game to her but she was also cheering you on, and finally Yunjin was cheering and reacting to every play with her heart. Her expressions were spot on.

But despite the hardship, the Lakers managed to take a win against their hometown rival and was able to snap their 11 losing game streak with them. Their manager then decided that it was time for them to get the suprise they were anticipating. She smirked as she called Lesserafim over. Excitement was evident on their faces as they suddenly walked down to the tunnel as they were standing waiting for something.

And that something was unexpected to say the least. You came out holding their Album and a pen as your sweet smile made them know what your goal was. Yunjin was more than ecstatic to sign the album as she slowly began planning on how she'll write her number on the album. Kazuha was blushing as this was her one chance to get you more than just a player and as a friend. Perhaps down the line that friendship could evolve to something beautiful. Chaewon was feeling a little nervous as she was contemplating on whether or not she should be bold or keep her thoughts to herself. She wanted to know you more and be friends with you because she has this weird attraction towards you. Eunchae wants to have an NBA all star friend so she can boast it to her friends back at home.

But Sakura found this as an opportunity to find more about Rui. So when you went towards them holding their latest album, you kinda felt self conscious about yourself.

"Heh, Lesserafim Huh? Guess you girls have an NBA fan now."

Your words was all the thing they need to feel like they are on top of the world. Kazuha couldn't be more happier when you spoke those words. To her, this was the biggest dream come true for her. She couldn't be more proud of herself.

Chaewon was smiling ear to ear because she felt proud of their team as a whole. All their hardship and sacrifices has been paid off because now, they are being recognized by people who are adored and idolized in the world. That's not a feat that should be overlooked.

Yunjin on the other hand couldn't help but be proud of herself and to you. She knows the hardship you went through to get through here and she also have to give herself a pat on the back for this one. Her journey wasn't easy as well and there were many times where she though of quiting but she didn't. She pushed through and her determination proved to be rewarded.

"Can I have your autographs?"

You asked them and they happily complied. You were feeling nervous about getting your album signed by the artist themselves but you noticed how Yunjin turned the album around and wrote something else as a Smriks appeared on her face.

"Don't show this to the camera okay? It's my number~"

That made you blush as your eyes widen looking at her. Kazuha knew Yunjin already did something to make you blush so she did the same thing. After signing from the front, she turned it around and wrote her own number as she looked up to you blushing shyly. She quickly turned away with a blushing face but no words were needed to know her intentions.

Chaewon sighed as she already knew what those 2 did but she ended up doing it as well. After all she also has her own goals with you so this time, she choose to be a little selfish.

"That's my gift for winning tonight. Hehe~"

Again, Chaewon's cute voice really got you like a blushing mess as she was very dangerous for your heart. Eunchae followed what her Unnies did but instead of her number, she placed her IG account there.

"You have my permission to talk to me hehe~"

Eunchae's silliness made you chuckle as you almost forgot that 3 beautiful idols handed you their number like it was nothing. Sakura wrote her signature and didn't turn the album instead she asked you.

"Is Number 28 gonna walk here?"

"Oh Rui? Yeah he will. He's just busy doing some interview right now but he'll be here"

"Thank you and congrats on the win."

Sakura smiled as you thanked her and smiled as well. You took picture with the group and signed their custom jersey as well before they could depart in the arena. Yunjin and Kazuha wanted to stay with you more but their manager told them that they have to return back to their hotel now. As sad as it seems, everything wasn't in vain as they gave you a way to connect with them. It made you feel a little sad that you could have spent more time with them but that little time was enough for you.

You looked back at the album and you smiled a little knowing that something could start with this chance. But as you look further on the album, you saw an unfamiliar hand writing that says…

"MY LAKER STAR"

.

.

.

.

Rui just finished his interview and was feeling great after that win. He was smiling ear to ear until a familiar person made him stop walking. Sakura closed her eyed before opening them and showing a bittersweet smile. A smile that hold so much emotion but has no happiness.

"It's been a while… Rui.."

"Sakura…."

[cerseimikaelson]

Episode Five: Sound of Music [AO3]

[A/N: "Christmas market" was the prompt chosen by the poll I made for Episode 5, so I hope you enjoy and thank you to everyone who voted!]

They say to never bet something you aren't absolutely certain you are willing to lose.

In Athena's case, time.

One might argue it was an easy decision all around, given that she, as an immortal being, had an infinite amount of time to spare. Truthfully, that was her reasoning when she made that blasted bet.

The greatest irony of all was that she thought herself so crafty, too. She had finally found a way to get Viola to read those books on battle strategy that had been collecting dust on the girl's nightstand for about a month.

"If you finish them and write a report by the end of the week, I'll take you to the Olympian Christmas market that opened this week."

Viola's eyes had lit up, and Athena had walked away fully confident that her daughter, who couldn't sit still for five minutes at the time and hated "the stuffy, yellow tomes you force upon me, Feathers" would never fulfill her side of the bargain. This little wager was ingenious.

Athena made her first error in judgement since that travesty with Napoleon and Waterloo. 

Viola aced Athena's quiz on the material. She provided keen, insightful and intelligent remarks that Athena wanted to be mad about but at the same time she just... couldn't. After all, it would be absurd to be mad at the girl for doing what was asked of her, right?

Viola, for her part, observed her dilemma with thinly-veiled amusement.

"Your expression is so I-just-ate-a-lemon-thinking-it-was-an-orange." she said, practically oozing smugness. "So, my dear Feathers, I believe I am owed a Christmas venture."

And so Athena found herself trying to navigate the hustle and bustle of the market, grey eyes watering at the sheer amount of lights that shone like beacons from seemingly every direction. The scent of mulled wine and baked sausages and fresh honeyed pastries on sticks (Athena had honestly no idea what they were called) assaulted her senses.

Viola, of course, was in her element, beaming as she nearly dislocated her neck trying to take everything in at once. Her ability to fully immerse herself in the joys of the mundane never ceased to inspire a substantial amount of awe in Athena. 

Not that she'd ever tell her that. The girl didn't need any more ammunition to cause mischief wherever she went.

"Oh, what should we do first?" Viola was literally bouncing off the balls of her feet, and she hadn't even had coffee yet.

Not good.

"Ornaments? Pastries? Wine?" Viola wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

Athena raised hers.

"If you honestly think I am going to allow you to consume alcohol, then you and I must reacquaint ourselves. You're seventeen. The other day you talked my ear off about the Olaf marshmallows in your hot chocolate."

Yes, Athena knew who Olaf was now. The Disney Jar had striked again. 

"Don't rain on my parade, Feathers." Viola pouted, but obediently led them both to a booth where a kindly-looking satyr with holly hanging from his horns was selling steaming cocoa in paper cups.

“Hi, Peter. We’ll take two, please.” Viola greeted.

“Ah, I was wondering what was taking you so long.” the satyr (Peter, apparently) said pleasantly. “Here I was thinking you decided to skip your chocolate fix today.”

“Peter, seriously, the day I fail to show up for my chocolate fix is the day you report me missing.” Viola deadpanned. “I just had to get this one out of the house and it took me a while.”

Peter just then noticed Athena for the very first time. Eyes widening to the size of saucers, he nearly leaped out of his skin, almost scalding himself with the hot drinks he was pouring in process.

“My Lady Athena!” he let out a nervous bleat that resembled a panicked goat. “My sincerest apologies, I didn’t see you. I mean- not that you’re easy to miss. No, that sounded wrong. I was just-“

“Getting some cocoa?” Athena cleared her throat a little, reminding him of the task at hand.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Viola waited until they had left the flustered satyr behind to bite back a snort of amusement.

“You really should get out more, Feathers. It’s kind of alarming that people are this fazed to be seeing your face in public outside of a temple or a library.”

Athena opened her mouth to tell her this was deliberate, but she couldn’t help but notice the hushed whispers and hastily-diverted stares aimed at the two of them as they walked by. It was in moments like these that the goddess was keenly aware of just how much her daughter resembled her. Browsing through the Christmas market side by side was a domestic activity she wouldn’t have engaged in for anyone else, and it was sure to fuel the gossip mill for the weeks to come.

“You’re rather popular.” Athena noted as a trio of dryads bundled up in fuzzy white mittens waved cheerfully at Viola. They vanished in an instant when they saw Athena’s eyes on them, though, as if terrified she’d turn them to stone.

“Those are the nail techs at the beauty lab.” Viola supplied. “Sweetest girls in the world, honestly. They’d get along with my Faerie friends like a house on fire. All it would take is one ten-minute conversation about this season’s fashion. Who said clothes don’t bring people together?”

Athena was so caught off guard that Viola openly talked about her Fae connections (a Topic she never even skirted around) that she almost missed the arrival of a god.

“Well, well, well.” Poseidon greeted, sea green eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth as he took mother and daughter in. “Can’t say I expected to run into you guys today.”

“Feathers drives a hard bargain, but I won.” Viola supplied without a hint of discretion.

Athena choked a little.

“Good for you, baby owl.” Poseidon grinned far too jovially. He was holding a half finished stick of blue cotton candy. That probably had something to do with his unusually cheerful demeanor.

“Are you on a sugar high?” Athena demanded incredulously.

“It’s Christmas, Athena! What makes the most wonderful time of the year, well, wonderful, if not a little indulgence?” the sea god argued. “Besides, I’ll eat anything blue.”

Athena and Viola’s responses just about summed up their entire personalities.

“Artificial food coloring is so unhealthy.”

“Moldy cheese included? That’s blue too, isn’t it?”

They glanced at each other with identical unreadable expressions for several moments before turning back to Poseidon as though nothing happened.

“So, who are you here with?”

As if on cue, three more of the Eldest Six (as the first generation of Olympians was largely known as) showed up through the throngs of market visitors.

“Sibling bonding exercise. I stan.” Viola said as she enthusiastically waved at Hades, Hera and Zeus.

Athena, remembering her manners and having been blessed with all of the decorum her daughter hadn’t inherited, chose a much more subdued and appropriate greeting.

“Father.” she inclined her head in Zeus’ direction. “My Queen, Lord Hades. I trust you’re enjoying the festivities.”

“Why are people walking around with those large canes? The percentage of people with visual impairments shouldn’t have grown so exponentially. Besides, what’s the purpose of those canes if they are being waved around instead of touching the ground?” Hades grumbled with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his thick, black trench coat to stave off the cold.

All his question earned him was five vacant looks. Hades left the Underworld about as often as Athena left her study, but at least Athena had her siblings (and now Viola) to keep her in the loop. Hades, on the other hand, if Persephone didn’t correct him was liable to show up to a meeting in a velvet waistcoat, complete with a pocket watch and monogrammed handkerchief. As a result, following his train of thought occasionally posed a challenge.

After a minute, Viola snapped her fingers.

“Oh, I got it!” she exclaimed. “Selfie sticks.”

“Ah.” the other four gave a collective sigh.

“Sticks for one’s self?” Hades asked, totally confused. “For what purpose? Is it another cosplay thing, like those kids with the scars on their forehead and the oversized glasses?”

“Who have you been talking to?” Zeus shot his brother an incredulous look as they resumed walking at a leisurely pace, Poseidon taking Hades aside to explain what a selfie stick was and how it was, in fact, completely different from a cane used by the blind.

The sight of Viola’s favorite coffee shop logo on one of the booths, Cookies and Cream, Coffee and Steam (widely known as the Four Cs because apparently the all-powerful immortals hadn’t bothered with spelling lessons) sparked an idea.

A brilliant, absolutely thrilling, never-been-done-before-but-totally-should idea.

Having made sure Hera’s attention was captured by an array of beautiful, handcrafted ornaments a couple of booths over, Viola whipped around and honest to gods smacked Zeus on the shoulder.

“What?” the King yelped as he turned on his heel with wide eyes.

Athena, Poseidon and Hades stopped whatever they were doing (the former admiring the enchanted icicles hanging off a nearby building and the other two arguing over the health hazard that was walking without watching where you were going while holding a giant stick above your head) to stare at them.

“Go over there and buy a toffee hazelnut latte.” Viola said simply as though she hadn’t just issued a command to the King of the Gods.

Athena’s jaw dropped open, but no sooner than she could so much as breathe a word of apology, or ask the demon child what in the Underworld she thought she was doing, did the words register.

Apparently Zeus found himself in a similar predicament, because he didn’t immediately bring out his master bolt to fry them all to a crisp (taking the entire market out with them for good measure).

“A what?”

“Hera’s favorite coffee.” Viola explained impatiently, looking around to make sure the goddess in question was still out of earshot.

Zeus honestly didn’t seem to know what he was expected to do with the information so unceremoniously smacked into him (literally!).

Athena could painfully relate.

“Why?” he asked, briefly glancing at his brothers as though willing one of them to step forward and explain this concept to him, pretty much like they had just done for Hades and the selfie sticks.

Athena would take the selfie sticks.

Viola’s eyes narrowed into slits in a distinctively Athena-ish manner that the goddess felt a spike of alarm to see mirrored on another’s face. Was that really the effect her own death stare had on people?

“Because she’s your wife and it’s Christmas and it’s freezing and she will love it.” Viola listed as though explaining why the sky was blue to a kindergartner. “And if you are so disinclined, I will just ask Hades to buy it for her.”

Zeus’ eyes widened, while Hades perked up at the mention of his name.

“Oh, I would be delighted to be of service.” the god of the Underworld said in a falsely sweet tone.

“No one is asking you for anything, Hades.” Athena interjected before her father could lose his temper, shooting the dark god a pointed look.

Unbelievably, it seemed to be the only incentive Zeus needed. Glaring daggers at his brother, he pretty much sprinted towards the booth, his large strides carrying him over easily.

“Men.” Viola scoffed under her breath. “Jealous heathens, the lot of them.”

“I have no idea what just happened, but I am going to treasure it forever.” Poseidon looked like Christmas had come two weeks early and his present was his little brother getting bossed around by a moody teenager. “He fell for it, hook, line and sinker! Please do that again!”

“Don’t ever do that again.” Athena emphasized loudly to cover his voice. “It’s a downright miracle he didn’t blast you to bits!”

“Tis the season.” Viola batted her eyelashes, unrepentant as they come, and Athena suppressed a groan. She had walked in on that one.

“Viola, whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” she pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a migraine coming in.

“You can’t tell me those two can’t use a gentle nudge in the right direction!” Viola protested.

“You call this,” Athena pointed at Zeus, who was returning with a reindeer patterned coffee cup in hand, “a gentle nudge? You just pushed them off a cliff with no parachute!”

Whatever Viola was about to say never made it out of her mouth, because in that moment Hera also rejoined their group, lotus blue eyes already searching for her husband.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Great.” the five of them responded at once, causing the queen to do a double take.

“What did you get?”

“Um, it’s for you. Toffee hazelnut.” Zeus answered, wearing the look of a person that was ambushed by somebody he thought was an ally.

Hera blinked in surprise.

“You got me coffee?”

“I did.”

“And not just any type of coffee, but my favorite?”

“I know your favorite coffee!” Zeus responded with way too much outrage for a person that had discovered this information all of two minutes ago, in Viola’s humble opinion.

Not that it mattered. Allowing him to take the credit was kind of the point of this little operation.

Hera glanced at the cup for a second as though expecting it to sprout antlers like the dancing reindeer.

“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.” she said, apparently trying to fit this tragically unprecedented incident into some existing category in her head. As Hera reached out to grasp the cup, her fingers brushed against Zeus’ (neither of them were wearing gloves) and Athena was astonished to see a faint brush gracing both the King and Queen’s cheeks.

She could feel Viola by her side practically vibrating with barely suppressed elation and just about lost her mind there and then.

There was no way this had actually worked. It defied all manner of reason. And yet there was no other plausible explanation for the fact the two rulers of Olympus were standing there shuffling their feet like love-struck, awkward teenagers instead of collected adults that had been married for thousands of years.

“Well, then, this has been fun, but we still have so much to do! Places to be, people to see and all that.” Viola broke the silence theatrically, ignoring Poseidon and Hades who were doing a spectacularly poor job at hiding their grins behind their palms. “See you later!”

And once again before Athena could even think to protest, her daughter had looped her elbow through hers, leaving the others behind until they disappeared in the bustling crowd.

“I still can’t believe you did that.” Athena grumbled a good three hours later, after they had been to seemingly every activity in the market, with the exception of the gigantic ice rink that the wisdom goddess didn’t even consider trying out.

She was already well aware that with her feet on anything other than solid ground, she had all the grace of newborn Bambi learning to walk (Disney Jar… don’t question it… just don’t).

The last thing she needed was broadcasting her utter lack of skill to the rest of the pantheon by hanging off the railing for dear immortality.

Viola had only relented after Athena had agreed to take her to listen to the choir of carolers at the main square, underneath the holographic angel ornaments whose gold and blue lights glittered like a canopy of shooting stars.

“No, you can’t believe you can’t say I told you so because my plan worked.” Viola retorted, not even looking at her. Her grey eyes were fixated on the empty platform with an almost hungry intensity.

“And what was your plan exactly? Test out my endurance by giving me a heart attack?” Athena wanted to know.

“I am going to get the big guy to show his wife the attention she deserves. Hera is a catch and deserves more appreciation from all of us, especially Zeus. She’s the one handling all the meetings with the Fae ambassador, you know. If it weren’t for her cunning Rochus Cerfas would have sold Olympus for scrap metal.”

There was so much to unpack in that absurd statement that Athena found herself momentarily lost. But before she could dissuade her daughter from whatever scheme she had concocted today, or persuade her that meddling with anyone’s marriage, let alone the one of the King and Queen of the Gods was obscenely stupid, the lights dimmed and Viola clutched her shoulder in an almost painful grip.

“Shush! It’s starting!”

Take a look at the goddess of wisdom getting shushed by a teenager.

Athena was seriously beginning to question the fabric of reality. Having a kid was an one-way ticket to an existential crisis.

The first notes of It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas began to ring across the packed square, the tune stirring something familiar and soothing, like your favorite threadbare blanket or watching the first snowflakes land.

Despite the lack of any surprise that came with hearing songs that had been sung a million times before, Athena found herself strangely comforted by the classics. The feeling of a warm body tucked next to her also contributed to it. She usually had no one to enjoy this part with every year. All the other gods were either paired off, had children already, or just went with their friends. Even Artemis got dragged out to buy a trinket or two by Apollo every year, usually silver and deer-shaped. Athena, as a technical only child and a maiden goddess, was used to her outings being strictly solitary.

But this year she had Viola, with her unique brand of chaos and frankly hilarious commentary. Viola, who considered snowman shaped marshmallows the highlight of her day. Viola, who didn’t let Athena skip out on this moment in favor of sticking to her usual routine, no matter how tried and trusted.

It took a while before Athena recognized the feeling blossoming in her chest, deep inside, as gratitude.

She turned around, not sure what sentimentality was about to barrel out of her lips and embarrass her, but just then the last verse of White Christmas echoed through the speakers.

"And may all your Christmases be white..." the baritone singer concluded, drawing out the final note. A beat of silence, and then the amassed crowd clapped and cheered. 

Athena would have thought Viola would be the loudest of them all, given her previous reactions to Let it Snow and All I Want for Christmas, so it was the silence that snapped her out of her thoughts.

What she saw stunned her. Perhaps even more so than any stunt the girl had ever pulled, no matter how daring.

Viola, whom Athena had never, ever seen cry, who had been yelled at by Zeus in front of the entire Council, who had raged over the injustice of being sent to Olympus from the Faerie realm without being asked, who had even shouted at Athena's face it wasn't at all curious nobody could stand the goddess, had tears running down her cheeks.

And it must have been the holiday madness getting to her, because Athena felt her heart lurch at the sight, something tight and uncomfortable, like Viola crying was a personal offence, something wrong she had to rectify.

"Why are you crying?" It came out half panicked and half accusatory, as if Athena couldn't really decide between the two moods. 

"My eyes are just wet, Feathers." Viola hastily wiped them. 

"Does your stomach hurt? I told you hot chocolate isn't meant to be guzzled down like that, but no, who ever listens to-"

"My stomach is fine, Athena." Viola cut her off with a hint of her trademark impatience. "I just... really loved that song. I'd only ever heard carols like, once or twice before, and it was usually a drunken retention. Off-key, the lyrics all messed up. I am just glad I got to hear the real thing. It was a dream come true." 

Athena blinked, trying to process this. Each word Viola said sparked about five follow-up questions. She sorted through them in record time, promptly realizing the blank space in the center couldn't be filled with assumptions. 

Whatever she was missing, it was the size of Santa’s sack of presents.

"I am afraid you've lost me." Athena admitted honestly. "Are carolers and choirs not common in Faerie? Didn't you ever hear them for Christmas?" 

Viola's eyes widened before realization sank and her shoulders tightened.

"Oh. I thought you knew..." she mused.

"Evidently I don't."

"Feathers, there's no Christmas in Faerie." 

Athena stared. This was the first she had ever heard of this and it simply didn't make sense.

"Are there religious concerns or something?" she asked, completely floored. From what she knew of the Fair Folk, they were as famed for their revels as the Olympians. That they would entirely miss out on a whole month of festive activities was bewildering at best.

"The Faerie realm only knows one season, Athena. Eternal spring. It's called the land of blooms for a reason. Haven't you heard the tales? The faeries of old luring unsuspecting wanderers deep into the woods, to lay on the softest grass and drink the clearest water and smell the sweetest flowers?"

"Of course I have." Athena persisted, mind racing. "But I didn't think it was quite so literal."

"Well, it is. All true, in most respects anyway. Faerie knows not the bite of frost nor the heat of summer nor the tart kiss of autumn, as the poets say." Viola rolled her shoulders like there was nothing unusual about the conversation. Athena would have believed it had her eyes not looked so fathomless. "It's a land where things always grow. That's why they are so powerful, you know. There's no shortage of things to trade with the other realms, and even if attacked or under siege, their people will never have to ration their food. Strategically speaking, it's a huge advantage." 

The key points in this analysis honestly shocked Athena more than anything else that day. 

"I can't believe I didn't know that. Nothing I've ever read about the Fae mentioned such a thing."

She had known of course that the Fae were formidable allies and deadly enemies to have. Hell, it was the entire reason she had worked so hard to secure their support. But she never could have imagined she had missed something so essential about the people she was trying to get to her side. 

"It's not like you could have visited. The Fae love their secrets. They are isolated and don't trust strangers.” Viola bit her lower lip, contemplating the next words carefully before saying them out loud. “Honestly, the fostering programs are probably a good thing. Even getting them to agree is an accomplishment. Hopefully in time they'll accept enough people to open the crossings. Then you can sign a new treaty." 

To be hearing this from the very child Athena sent away as a toddler, all because of said program's existence, honestly was mind-numbing. 

It wasn't often that Athena genuinely didn't know how to respond to something.

"You... you're being very nonchalant about this." she finally found her voice.

"I thought about it a lot." Viola said. "I was pissed as hell in the beginning. I mean, don't get me wrong, I still think there's a lot of stuff that could have gone down better. But on the other hand this is the mythological world. When was anything ever simple? Not to mention, everyone who fought in the Wars would have been really fucking proud to see where we are now. So many generations grew up hating the other pantheons, full of bigotry and taboos. To them, exchange programs and foster families and field trips were on the same league as Star Wars. To us, it's our reality. I am proud of what has been achieved. And I want to contribute in that too. Even if it means sacrificing things along the way." 

A new feeling reared its head, outshining all others, and this one Athena knew very well.

Pride.

It usually followed a tiring but productive training session, a well-fought battle, a victory rally, an honorary feast. But out of all those times, which were beyond measure considering how long Athena had already been alive for and how long she had yet to live, this was probably one of the few that the feeling was directed at someone other than herself.

Wholly. Completely. Every drop of it.

All for her. Inspired by her.

The sarcastic, meddlesome, precocious, daredevil, stubborn demigoddess.

Viola. Her daughter.

Who was now staring at her with undisguised trepidation, waiting for Athena to respond. Because that was the expected course of action during a conversation after one party had finished talking.

Athena may not have been in a position to verbalize everything that was happening in her head, (it would take several long nights of reflection for that, with strong tea and an unexpected ally in Aphrodite, the love goddess’ facade giving way to a softer, gentler side that only revealed itself for Ares and her own kids) but something told her Viola understood anyway.

Her baby owl was ridiculously perceptive, after all.

“Come along, then. Your spiel earlier has me curious about the merits of ice skating. Just kindly make a solid effort not to break your skull on the ice.”

See you next Tuesday for Episode 6!

@sarnai4, @firinniee, @appolinyou, @appolinyou, @greekmythstan

@justahumanmessingaround, @toshj13, @angelfoxlove, @i-love-ulysses-butterflies, @mythology-lover

@celestialbeanies, @darwizzylover, @kasios9, @z-eusie, @mer-acle

@motherofheroes, @childofthepeacocks Baby Owl is working hard to give you the appreciation you deserve

[zahri-melitor]

New(ish) Comics 5 June 2025:

Extended edition as I’m combining a fortnight together.

DC Pride 2025 #1: I think this was a better balanced edition than some of the recent ones (so much better than 2024. Just…more tonally aware, a better selection of stories), and as a collective format I’ve seen plenty of worse framing stories. A theme of letting go and moving through regret very much tied this in to be a coda to Alan Scott: Green Lantern, to the point that if you haven’t read that you’re probably missing a fair bit of the context. I thought most of the stories were decent, though personally I could have done without several of the lighter fare ones (Blue Snowman and the Harley story irked me in particular, and in the Harley story I would have liked to have seen the referencing of Ivy as the Woman In The Red Dress as slightly more developed – part of my problem is that I read it immediately after reading Poison Ivy and look, G. Willow Wilson is just better at this).

Vita Ayala shoving Jo at Nubia felt very pasted on (and I agree with Ink that Jo was not the original intended character for this story), and I am going to continue to protest the fact that all nuance has been drained out of Apollo’s character – he’s been ‘Midnighter’s sunny husband’ as a cipher for way too long now, he was actually originally an equally developed character!

I did like that they used Renee as the first story and her growing sense of disquiet (and I cried at Crispus, and I cried even more at Renee having to tell him he wasn’t real).

I can see the tone they wanted to strike, particularly given how many of the people working on this are based in the US and UK, and particularly the uptick of optimism in the end, and I think they got it where they hoped to.

And they managed to get through an entire Pride comic without having a parade scene, I’m so proud of DC.

…okay I can’t help myself. I really hated the Blue Snowman story. It felt extremely tonedeaf compared to everything else going on, it wasn’t funny, and it is yet another occasion of a DC writer explicitly dumping on Diana and refusing to acknowledge and commit to the queer narrative she exists within (Diana’s queer. She’s had female loves, she was raised on Themyscira around plenty of women in relationships with other women, and everything about her existence from her first creation is in itself countercultural. And yet every time she ends up in seasonal anthologies it seems to be with people who refuse to acknowledge this – I’m also thinking dire imprecations to that Valentines anthology that used her for a Galantines thing where she’s being pestered by fans) I wish they’d given this narrative space to Xanthe or someone else.

Jenny Blake Isabella’s story: I actually do enjoy how they keep putting an autobiographical piece at the back of these. Kevin Conroy got 2022, Phil Jimenez got 2024 and now Jenny Blake got 2025. It felt a very, very comics way to sit down and explain things to the fandom and answer a few questions (and I snorted at the 70% joke). Very heartwarming and tonally beautiful.

Absolute Superman #7: ah I see the Brainacs are being nice and normal ™ in this story.

Batgirl #7: in terms of what is being done with Shiv’s backstory, I can see where Brombal is pulling threads from (and there is more Richard Dragon: Kung-Fu Fighter in here than I was expecting, but also this single issue probably has done more for reconciling Carolyn into being a character with Actual Motivations than any earlier appearance I’ve read, and I’ve read everything that even references Carolyn), and I am seated, waiting to see where we go from here. In terms of things nobody who hasn’t read RD: K-FF will get – the implications here that “the imperial blood of Wu” is in the sisters’ family? Well, my mind went instantly to Carolyn and Shiva’s echoes, Sun Lin Po and Madame Sun who are “descendants of Zhu Youjian, the last emperor of the Ming dynasty”, and who also have a complicated relationship, though in their case it’s as good/evil identical twins. Because that makes for a lot of the commentary over how Shiva sees herself and sees Carolyn.

Like I swear, if Brombal pulls Ling Po into this story I am going to lose my mind over how deep that cut is.

Birds of Prey #21: I will admit, the double page spread with Babs seated at her computer, contacting everyone, made me a little teary. That’s my girl! That’s Oracle! I know the exact scenes this is referencing from the 1999 run and the acknowledgement of the network Babs has access to is great. I really feel this run has hit its stride and for everyone who keeps complaining that Babs is a shadow of herself in modern comics or whatever needs to actually read the current BOP run, because honestly? She’s where I hoped to see her.

Detective Comics 2025 Annual #1: this was fine? Like, as an annual, it was one of those disconnected one shots that you can pick up without knowing context. Ewing has a decent grasp on Bruce.

Poison Ivy #33: consequences, they are arriving. I’m not sure what else I want to say but this remains really good, this issue in particular manages to simultaneously frame Pam’s viewpoint of why she believes and does what she does while still showing that it’s flawed and she’s perceived by many as a villain, and things continue to get fucked up.

Resurrection Man: Quantum Karma #2: the premise for this remains so interesting. Still don’t fully understand what is going on but I’m happy to go on the journey.

Secret Six #3: ...the fuck did you just do to my girl Jeannette.

The Thomas and Floyd bits of this are all right, my care factor about everything else is pretty low, and I am still extremely unconvinced by this depiction of Lori.

Also in terms of 'gee, Maines really is working hard at not making friends', there's what I believe is a Bendisboot Legion reference.

Two Face #6: and this run finished without the Reaper ever saying “FEAR THE REAPER” so I am disappointed in that. I think the highlight issue was definitely #4 – I can still gush about that without any hesitation – but this is a solid little mini, and I’m never sad to see Harvey stories.

The Warlord #97: this week in Skartaris the attack to retake Shamballah goes poorly. Travis accuses Graemore of being a spy and selling them all out (which seems unlikely to me) and whales on him until Tara steps in to stop him.

(Tara just really wants this triangle to continue)

Honestly most of this comic is just forces attacking each other. Jennifer gets to have a sorcery battle against Saaba the Witch, who's working for the Atlanteans, in terms of interesting vignettes. before Saaba turns back into a raven to try and get away, only to be attacked and captured by Shakira in cat form.

And then an earthquake occurs and saves Travis' bacon. Deus ex machina what?

(Actually all of this havoc is apparently caused by COIE. COIE coming to disrupt my reading? It's more likely than you think!)

Graemore gets badly injured in the fighting, which Tara is extremely upset about.

[fictionallystable]

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader

Characters: Reader, Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Author Has Played Call of Duty, Childhood Friends, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Civilian!Reader, Pre-Canon, Jealousy, Angst, Kissing, Mild Smut, Time Skips, Brother's Best Friend, Toxic Family Dynamics, Eventual Smut, Drama, Misunderstandings, Getting Together, Minor Age Gap

Words: 9,080| Chapters: 4/5

Authors: @orphancains & @collinnmckinley

Chapter 4: The Engagement Party

Chapter Summary: You're invited to Matty's engagement party and run into a familiar face—only for everything to seemingly fall apart.

A/N: agian we are extremely apologetic for the late update. life got hectic for both of us and hit us like a bus. and we were too exahsted from everything to even think about writing. but here we are!!! with a longer chapter to make it up to yall!! we really hope you enjoy this one c: only one chapter left to go ;) (likes and reblogs are appreciated <3)

the fic can also be found on AO3

tags will be updated!!

You felt nauseous at the thought of returning home for Matty’s engagement party. You’d been living out of town, happy with your job as an architect even if it meant you sometimes went months without seeing family. But you preferred it that way, with less judgment from your parents for choosing to postpone your own engagement yet again. 

With your boyfriend Richard’s arm around your waist, you braced yourself for the booming cheers from your mother and father when they saw you. Immediately, they enveloped you in hugs and shook you with delight. 

“[Y/N], oh, it’s so good to see you! We’ve missed you so much.” 

“The drive must’ve been tiring, huh? How’s work been, Richard?” 

“[Y/N], your figure looks great! And that skirt is gorgeous!” 

Ah, yes. The skirt Richard picked out for me.

Your mother’s wrinkled, smiling eyes rubbed your back as you made your way to the living room for a drink, while Richard stayed in the hall with your father, enraptured in more dull small talk. The stiff smile you had kept carved on your face all this time suddenly melted into a real one when you saw Bear, your dog, laying on the ground.

You knelt down immediately to pet him, forgetting the drink your mom was getting you. You rubbed your hands through his long, brown fur as he wagged his tail back and forth. He panted excitedly, leaning up trying to lick your cheek. You laughed. “I’m glad you’re looking good, Bear,” you said to the dog. He had been staying comfortably with your mother for the past 6 months, enjoying her leftovers but far away from you. Every night, you wished you could cuddle up with the dog. But Richard insisted that no dogs be allowed in your apartment.

“ I can’t handle all the hair, especially with it sticking to my suits. And I doubt you’ll have the time to clean up after a German Shepherd’s furballs with your workload ,” you remembered he sourly sneered while he unpacked your boxes all those months ago. 

“And Matty?” you asked your mom when she handed you a cup of soda and ice in a red plastic solo, while Bear rolled over on his back elatedly.

“He’s outside entertaining the guests with Elaine.” Your mom grinned. “Her parents seem to be very happy with our arrangement.”

You tried to smile, but a grimace cracked through instead. Ever since you graduated high school, your mother and father had insisted you get married quickly. Matty seemed to have no issue finding the right girl to propose to. You, on the other hand, well… you couldn’t see yourself with Richard. He was protective, he remembered your anniversaries, and he always made the time to take you on dates, to remember your favorite flowers, and always paraded you with pride at his own work parties. But the thought of saying “I do” to the man made your chest bubble with anxiety. And maybe even dread. Sometimes he was too  protective, interrupted you too much, and sometimes took his sarcastic jokes too far to the point of cruelty. You were sensitive, ever since your adolescence. But… you could get used to it, right? 

“Oh, that’s great news,” you muttered in reply to your mother.

Your mother leered at you from the corner of her eye. A mischievous but scrutinizing twinkle in her eyes. “Yes, it’s just a matter of time before you and Richard have your very own—”

“I should go say hi to Matty, yes?” You got up quickly and brushed the wrinkles from your skirt. “And of course, to my future sister-in-law…” you sputtered out as you scurried past your mother.

When you stepped out onto the back garden, you were hit once again with the warm, thick heat of the Texas night. You saw your brother from behind, with his arm around Elaine, whose long, pin-straight hung like a curtain from behind her, and a cold beer in his hand. You saw they were laughing while they chatted to an older man and woman you didn’t recognize, crinkled skin and silvery but pin-straight thin hair that Elaine had. From what you could guess, they must’ve been Elaine’s parents.  

It was hard to hide your joy at seeing your brother. You sauntered up to your brother, wanting to catch up with him. Last time you’d seen him, he’d been arguing with your dad about the very idea of proposing to Elaine. He wanted to wait another couple of months, but your father insisted Elaine would start to get impatient and would find another husband, another arrangement. Your brother had stormed off that day, driven away in his car, uttering nothing more than a “Not now!” at you when you had asked if he was okay.

“Matty!” you called out to your brother from where you stood. Your smile couldn’t get any wider. Yes you spoke with your brother every week when work let you, but it's been a long while since you last saw your brother in person. 

So when he heard your voice calling his name, he turned to see you standing there, at your parents backyard porch, waving to him excitedly, he couldn’t help but let out an airy laugh and immediately started to make his way to you. You did the same and both met in the middle as you scooped you in a hug lifting your feet off the ground. Oh how he missed his baby sister. Although all grown up.

Seeing how excitedly Matty basically ran towards you, it made Elaine chuckle and shake her head. She knew how strong the sibling bond you and your brother shared, and she found it extremely endearing and adorable in a way she can never experience, as she was the only child.

As Matty let you down on the ground again, Elaine made her way to greet you. When you saw her you couldn’t help but hug her too. You liked Elaine, she was like a sister you never had, and you couldn’t be happier for both of them. 

“It’s so good to see you [Y/N]! We missed you so much” Elaine told you, her smile was bright and contagious. You couldn’t help but to mirror her excitement and feeling.

“It’s good to see you both too! I’m so sorry I couldn’t get earlier work got in the way, and we packed at the last minute-” you expressed how regretful you were about how late you arrived. You truly meant to arrive earlier, to help your brother and his wife-to-be with the arrangement of the party, but the universe had other plans for you. 

Before you went on a tangent, Matty cut you off with his usual reassuring demeanor.

“Nonsense! You’re here and that's what matters.” Elaine nodded, as Matty’s hand came around her shoulder. They truly looked like a couple made for each other. 

“Oh! Before you go or do anything, I gotta show you who’s here!” Matty said, his excitement meant trouble. For some reason you were worried.

“Oh there he is! Just the man I was looking for hah!” Matty was looking over your shoulder when he spoke. 

As you turned around like any normal person would do to see who your brother was talking about, the air was knocked out of you immediately as your eyes landed on him.

“Phil…” you sputtered out, quiet enough for it to be a whisper.

Phillip Graves stood a few feet away from you, far enough to reach in a couple of steps. And that's what he did when your brother called him over. The Phillip Graves was standing in front of you now, except now he was older. His hair was still the light brown, almost blonde hair that had as a teen. His tan skin now was littered with a few scars, on accenting his cheek bone. You remembered he was tall, always athletic, as a kid from playing varsity football and soccer. But now, he had filled out muscles under his burgundy t-shirt and light-wash jeans. And he still towered over you just enough that you had to peer up to meet his blue eyes. 

With a surprised, almost confused smile, he repeated your name back to you. 

“Phillip... Phil…” you breathed out, still in disbelief. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Of course he’s gonna be here, silly! He’s my best friend, I couldn’t have a wedding without him being my best man can I?” you’re brother jokes. Before you could say anything to him, you heard a distant voice calling his name. He answers “coming!”, but not before bidding you both to have a good time and catch up.

He knows how much Phil meant to you, and he knows for sure for the past fifteen years how much you tried to forget him.

You watched as your brother and his fiancee in his arms went to tend to the other guests, before turning to Phillip, who’s smile grew into one of his beaming ones that you’d grown familiar with as a teen. “Hopefully seeing me ain’t a bad surprise.” He winks at you teasingly before smiling softly. He gestured to the plastic, white porch table nearby. “D’ya wanna sit?”

Tentatively, you took a seat across from him at the table. He looked around, almost looking bored, as he took a drink of his own beer bottle. But you knew Phil. He wasn’t disinterested. You could tell from the way he was bouncing his left leg in slight nervousness. 

“So, how have you been [Y/N]? I heard you became a big shot architect in Seattle! Not gonna lie, I thought that you’d become a famous artist with her own exhibit all across the country.” Phillip genuinely sounded happy and surprised, leaning back in his chair, hands intertwining on his torso. A habit he picked up during his time away from home in the Marine Corps.

You smiled at him. He recognized that as the one your mother trained you to show new people. It only got sweeter—and prettier—as you grew older, he thought. It suited you even as you were no longer a little girl and now a beautiful, grown woman. Graves’ heart strings tugged, and for a split second, and only for that tiny moment, he was taken off guard. 

“Yeah.” You paused but only for a second. “Things turned out differently. But I can't complain.” That sweet smile still plastered on your face. Phil couldn’t believe it, how much you’ve changed, how much you’ve grown. How beautiful you’ve become-

“Things… didn’t end well the last time we saw each other.” He was lost in thought again but your voice brought him back. 

“Or rather didn’t see.” You murmured.

He knitted his brows in confusion. “I’m not following.” 

Annoyance began to stir inside you. You huffed and looked away.

He nearly stammered his words. “From what I last remember; we had a blast at your birthday party, Matty gave you a puppy, the one that he’d been planning months to get for you. And I—”

“And you left.” Your eyes, returning to him and now darker with hurt, pierced straight into his eyes, and your silky voice cut him like a sharp knife. “Practically the next day.” “Without saying a single word to me about your enlistment that day.” A sad, but bitter, smile adorned your face, eyes cast downward. As the memories of that day continued to unfurl for you, a dormant resentment continued to bubble in the depths of your viscera. 

“You didn’t even bother to say goodbye to Matty properly let alone me.” Your voice was softer now,  but he could still see the hurt behind your eyes. “Much less to my parents who—”

“Listen, [Y/N], I didn’t—” He clenched his jaw and dragged his chair closer, hoping to keep his voice low. He felt embarrassed to be having this conversation with you in the first place in your parents’ backyard. And he especially didn’t want Matty to know you were talking about this with him. Still, he felt he owed you an explanation. “I didn’t want to scare you….” he stops and looks at you, in his eyes an emotion you have never seen before swims, you can't decipher it, but it somehow looks familiar. “Or hurt you for that matter.” 

He shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest. He scoffed, just barely audible to you. “But be realistic for a moment. What did you expect me to say to you? ‘Hey, kiddo, I’m off to join the Marine Corps. Might die or get a limb or two blown off. Make sure you do your homework and don’t stay up too late playing video games with Matty! Bye!” 

Phil couldn’t help being defensive of his actions that summer, a bit too defensive even to his liking. He sighs and continues with a bit of a calmer voice. Phil knew that his answer wasn’t half-assed, but he still knew they could be biting. Although he didn’t want to reopen old wounds, he also didn’t want to lie to you. Especially not now that you were no longer a child, and not just Matty’s kid sister. “I did what I thought was right, for you… and me. And I wouldn’t change it if I had to do it again. That’s the truth.” 

You blinked. You couldn’t help but hear something alien in his voice, a tone so unfamiliar in your memories of him as kids. Was it sorrow? Remorse? Pain? You couldn’t figure it out. But you know it was something not to be pushed any further. As a kid you never understood why he did what he did, but as you grew older, somehow you knew that as a child everyone’s decisions were outside your range of understanding. You had accepted what happened. Or at least you thought you did. But today that young girl returned, took back control your body and mind, and you found yourself spluttering these words to Phil. 

Sitting with his own answers, you sat in silence. You watched as he leaned back and eyed you carefully. His eyes were still the same baby blue ones that always gazed at you with brotherly affection all those years, the ones that sparkled when the Texan summer sun’s rays cast on them. But now you felt a hardness radiating from behind them, one that would make anyone else cower and feel smaller. Years in military combat had definitely changed him and his gaze. Indeed, you did feel like he was studying every inch of your face and body, scanning you as if trying to profile you, maybe like he did with the captured combatants in whatever war in which he fought. You tried your hardest to return the intensity of his stare, but it was hard to compete with the icy look in his eyes.

But behind his colder eyes was a burning curiosity that he was successful in concealing from you. It was a curiosity he didn’t expect to experience tonight, because he never expected to see you, Matty’s beloved little sister, again. In all his memories, some more faded and fuzzier than others, you remained a little girl whose clothes were stained with paint and fingers sometimes still smudged from soft pastels or even charcoal from your art. In his mind, you still had baby cheeks and wore Matty’s old hand-me-down clothes and hoodies. But before him, he never expected Matty’s little sister, now a woman, to be sitting before him. He almost wanted to curse himself for immediately noticing when you walked to the table how your curves fit the skirt you wore. And when you sat across from him, he caught himself glancing more than once at your chest when your arms folded just beneath it. 

He clenched his jaw. God, if Matty even caught the places his eyes were traveling when he saw you, he was sure he was going to get his ass kicked and his face pounded in by Matty’s notorious fist. Grown up or not, you were still his sister. And this was also still Matty’s engagement party, and he couldn’t ruin it. And you were clearly still torn up about his sudden, unannounced enlistment all those years ago. This was not the place or time to be thinking of… other things.

What disrupted his curious gaze from roaming over you was a sole tear that began to trickle down the corner of your eye. Just one, and one that you quickly wiped away with your hand before it could ruin much of your makeup. But it was enough to know that, once again, Phil had made you upset. He internally wanted to bang a fist against the table. He was hoping you would lash out at him, he would let you burn off some of the steam that you couldn’t when you were both kids, he knew how much you controlled your rage, and he wished you would finally let it out even if it was on him. Let you both make fools of yourselves that night, so he could feel less remorse. But instead, the silence from you that he was me with was damning him more than he could expect.

When you refused to say anything, Phil anxiously whirled the cold glass bottle in his hands. “But, I was also an idiot,” Phil spat out suddenly. 

Your furrowed brows softened, noticing how Phil’s eyes melted into what you couldn’t intercept at first. But you soon realized it was a miserable mixture of hurt and regret. “I just wanted to get away from my folks, you know. Even though they were hardly ever home, I still felt like they controlled every aspect of my life. So…” He breathed out. “So, I’m sorry.”

“I get that,” was all you said as you mindlessly twirled the bracelet around your wrist. As you did so, his eyes glanced down at your hand on the table, the same ones that were always covered in stubborn faded blue and yellow hues of paint. He swallowed when he noticed that, unlike Matty whom he’d spoken to earlier, you had no ring on your left hand. Before you could notice, Phil quickly glanced back up at your face, and was relieved to see that your harsh scowl from before had melted away. “I just wish you could’ve told me that then. But I… I get that I was too young. We were both pretty stubborn when it came to talking about anything serious, but we cared—”

Before you could finish, you heard a booming voice call out your name. You turned and saw Richard beckoning you to where he stood, while your parents stood to the side and grinned giddily together. Suddenly the whole party had grown strangely quiet. Beside the ice cooler, you noticed a bluetooth speaker playing a familiar soft rock song. One that you distinctly remember as the one Richard played in the car after your first date together at the theme park, and the same one you two danced to in his old apartment when you both were tipsy one night.

You got up from your seat. Next to you Phil also suddenly wondered why so many eyes were on you and this unfamiliar man. You started walking toward him and your parents, wondering what in the world was happening, and why your boyfriend was standing in the middle of the backyard like he was about to give a speech. Oh no, I've seen this scenario happening in public one too many times. This does not look good…. Your internal monologue was put in a pause when you looked around to find your brother, and when your eyes landed on his and his fiance, you knew with one look they did not seem pleased of what was going on.

“[Y/N],” he started. “We’ve only known each other for a few months…”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Matty muttered from a few feet away from where Phil sat. 

Phil blinked a couple of times. His gut was telling him he knew exactly what was going on, but he himself couldn’t believe it. Not after he just reunited with Y/N a few minutes earlier.

Elaine tried to calm Matty down silently, but Matty was furious. “I specifically told them not to pull this shit, not on this occasion. Jesus fucking Christ.” Elaine didn’t need to hear him say it, but she knew who he was referring to when he said ‘they’.

Richard continued. “But you’ve made me a better man, a man with bigger, better ambitions, a man who can see himself becoming a family man. Beyond just a businessman, a partner, a rock to lean on, someone who could build a home with you and raise a family together.”

When he got down on one knee, you felt your heart stop and all the muscles in your body seize. You tightened your jaw, dormant rage igniting all over again. You didn’t know if you wanted to run away and flee the scene or smash Richard’s head with the beer bottle from a nearby table, but you felt as though your shoes were glued to the dry grass. “Y/N,” he said as he took a ring out of his jacket pocket. 

You looked up frantically and saw your mother on the verge of happy tears and your father with a proud grin but his hands tucked in his suit jacket’s pockets, much like when he is negotiating a business deal at work. You knew immediately that this was not simply Richard’s doing. No, you had told Richard as recently as last night at bedtime that you would rather wait at least when you hit 30 before even considering marriage. This was your parents handing you off to Richard, hoping and desperately trying to have their wealth merge with Richard’s own family wealth. Just like you feared in every conversation you had with your mom and dad, you feared you represented nothing more than a simple pawn in another one of your dad’s business deals. 

You glanced back down at Richard, the sour sneer on your face growing harder and harder for you to conceal. You could feel your hands trembling now by your side, and the cup of soda in your hand threatening to get crushed.  

“Will you do me the honor of letting me call you my wife?”

You heard murmurs and all around you from the backyard. The night’s spotlight was now on you, no longer on Matty and Elaine, and that made you grind your teeth even more. You didn’t want extra attention. It was bad enough that suddenly your childhood crush crashed the party and made you relive your teenage hormones and heartbreak. Richard and your parents both knew how uncomfortable you felt coming back home, and suddenly they decided to make you have to answer a marriage proposal in front of all your relatives, friends, and neighbors. 

You glared down at Richard, who was oblivious to the storm raging in your mind. “You’re out of your fucking mind,” you spat out, with a low and harsh voice, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. You whipped your head up furiously to glare directly at your mom and dad. “And you two! You two are unbelievable. You should be ashamed of yourselves!” Your throat ached from how harshly you growled at them.

Without another word, not even a “no” to dignify Richard’s proposal, you threw your cup of soda at Richard’s face. The half-melted ice-cubes and cold Sprite made him flinch and get back up to his feet quickly. A chorus of gasps erupted from behind and around you. 

“You spoiled brat!” your mother shrieked. The disdain and disappointment on her face was one so familiar, but one that still brought your heart racing anxiously and your lips to quiver. Your father stood frozen in shock beside her. He himself didn’t expect you to react in such a way. He thought tonight would be another business success for him. “Do you know how much we had sacrificed for you? And you decide to act like a child? When will you grow up?l!” 

“THIS IS INSANE!” 

Your eyes snapped to the source of outburst and landed on Matty standing near where Phil and you had been sitting. Phil remained at his seat watching all of this unfold with amusement, as Matty was walking towards where your parents had been standing, with determination of giving an earful to them most likely, but before he could start what he had to say your voice decided to come out on its own accord.

“Oh mother… How can you still be so stubborn about this? How could you pull this stunt at Matty’s engagement party, your own son's engagement party? Do you have no shame? Either of you?” Your voice determined and harsh. Even your mother was taken aback by your bold retort. Her speechlessness only allowed you to continue your tirade. “I told you at least a hundred times that I don’t have any plans to get married anytime soon. But you didn’t listen! That doesn’t surprise me; you hardly ever listen to me. But at least have some respect for your own goddamn son! Who has been nothing but an obedient child to you! Both of you! And this is how you treat him?! The least that you could have done was ask him and Elaine if this was okay with them!” 

Your mother was stunned, the blood having drained from her face and her hand clutching her handbag tightly as she gawked at you. You’ve never been this brave with your words. You never talked back to either of your parents in all your youth. And if your father wasn’t just as speechless, he would’ve given you an earful, and even threatened you to remove you from inheritance. But you didn’t care, your patience ran thinner and thinner each year and this new stunt made all that remained evaporate in a matter of seconds.

You knew you couldn’t come back from this. The realization that there was a chance you’ll probably be shunned and even maybe disowned after this. You had run out of words, so you simply ran from the scene. Your spilled red cup of coke laid on the grass, something the ants in the yard would later indulge in. You bolted into your family’s house, your childhood home, which was mainly empty with everyone mingling in the evening out in the yard. You went into your room on instinct, but noticed your mom and dad had converted it into an office space for their work. Your jaw dropped as you realized they never kept your room the same way they had adoringly preserved Matty’s. You tightened your grip around the door knob. You wanted nothing more than to trash the room, break the desk that sat where your bed once did, and stomp on bookshelves that once held your comics and artbooks but now held folders of boring white paperwork. 

But instead you fled to your brother’s room across the hall. You knelt down beside his bed, kicked off your shoes, and buried your face in a pillow. You let out a muffled scream. After a few seconds, your scream morphed into pathetic sobs. You knew you were surely staining Matty’s old pillows with your makeup, but you didn’t care at that moment. At that moment, it felt as though you time-traveled back fifteen years in your old home, crying your eyes out into your beloved brother’s pillow.

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

Phil watched as Matty slouched on the plastic lounging chair outside. Almost everyone had left. Your mother and father stood near the backyard fence, arguing desperately about what to do next after you had ruined their evening. Richard stood next to them but remained mostly silent and merely listened to them. Elaine, Matty’s fiancée, trudged into the house in search of you. Meanwhile, Phil took a seat across from Matty, who ran his hands through his beard and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily out of frustration.

“Cannot believe they would fucking do that on tonight of all nights,” Matty groaned out.

Phil let out a low whistle. “Yeah definitely didn’t expect to see [Y/N] throw a cup of soda at some random guy.” It would almost be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that he had seen tears once again streaming down your face when you darted inside. “So, that was actually [Y/N]’s boyfriend or—”

“Unfortunately,” Matty spat out. “I can’t stand the guy. But our parents love Richard even though he’s a huge asshole to her half the time.”

“Huh…”

Phil tried to recall the man. He was tall and athletic. He seemed like the type to weight lift, worry about trends in luxury suits, and track his meals’ calories to keep up with his appearance and health everyday. His dark hair was slicked back with some gel, and his jaw was sharp and pronounced. His sharp, aquiline facial features reminded Phil of some of the college guys who would apply for internships to work for his dad’s firm during summers back when he was a kid. But something about him made Phil’s skin crawl. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that his entire personality seemed like a masquerade of wealth and opulence, or the fact that he was dating you , had the gall to propose to you , while also being an asshole to you, according to Matty at least.

“I can’t say I blame her for throwing the soda at him,” Phil snickered quietly.

Matty almost cracked a smile at this. Suddenly, he remembered why he called Phil his best friend for so many years of his life. “Trust me, if I could’ve thrown one too, I would’ve.”

Your father suddenly bellowed your name. “Come out! We need to have a talk!”

Phil and Matty quickly glanced at each other, worry coating both of their faces. They expected Elaine and you to come out together, Elaine probably holding a box of tissues and your eyes still swollen from crying. But instead, no one came out of the backyard door. They waited several seconds, until your father stormed toward the door to head inside himself. Richard trailed behind him, not nearly as full of energy. It seemed the would-be fiancé was still feeling dejected, even if the soda from early had already dried.

“Unbelievable,” your father growled, the door of the house slamming open violently with a bang.

Phil and Matty both got up quickly, following the man. They found you and Elaine sitting in the kitchen, you nursing a cup of warm tea and Elaine sitting next to you still attempting to console you. Your father rushed toward you, grabbing you by your shoulders, forcing your gaze away from your cup of tea and to his own red-beet face. The force of his grasp made your elbow knock into the mug, tumbling it to the ground with a sharp crash. 

Elaine gasped sharply before stepping back in shock. Meanwhile, Bear emerged from the living room, his bushy tail stiff in the air in alert and his pointed ears slicked back against his head. He growled and barked furiously at the sight of your father grabbing you. Agape, you stared back at your father in horror, feeling all the muscles in your body suddenly become paralyzed in fear.

“How can you throw away your future just because of your own stubborn self-righteousness?! Didn’t we raise you better than to act so selfishly?!” your father yelled into your face.

Matty quickly grabbed your father’s arm, grabbing him by his gray blazer’s stiff fabric, and pulled him off of you. “Your dumb plan for the night was botched from the start, dad,” he sneered out. “She clearly doesn’t want to marry Richard and this was supposed to be our engagement party to begin with!” he looked at Elaine for a second saying that.

The graying wisps of hair on your fathers were now disheveled and sticking up, his sagging and wrinkled face now flushed with a furious red. He balled his fists as he spoke back to your brother. “What she did, regardless of what day it was, to Richard was unacceptable. Would you ever imagine Elaine treating you in such a way? No, of course not! Because [Y/N] is acting like a child, and an insolent one at that!”

He turned back to glare at you, taking one step further forward. “Richard, come here,” he said, his glower locked on you not wavering.

The tall, dark-haired man strode beside your father. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. You had wounded your ego and in public in front of your friends and family, something he would seldomly allow without biting back. But he remained quiet ever since his botched proposal. Usually he would yell back, make a scene, demand he stay in a hotel for the night, after arguing with you over nonsense. But his silent, narrow-eyed stare bore down on you and made you feel uneasy. There was nothing calm or passive about it.

“So, why don’t we start over, hm? Why don’t the two of you go to the living room to discuss and… reconsider Richard’s proposal once again, yes?” Your father’s gritted teeth betrayed the false air of diplomacy he was trying to prop up.

“I don’t think—” Your brother was caught off.

“[Y/N],” your father said more sternly this time. “Now.”

Your brother wanted to continue to protest, but he knew your father would not take no for an answer right now. Not with his fists balled up and his face as red as it was. So Matty, Phil, and Elaine watched breathlessly as you and Richard walked to the living room by yourselves. Phil noticed how your hands shook ever so slightly, even while you kept your lips pursed and tried to straighten your blouse, desperately clinging onto any semblance of composure before talking to your boyfriend.

Breathing out an exasperated sigh, your father, the man Phil used to revere so much as a child, began to step outside back to the yard. “There better still be some drinks in the cooler. I need one right now,” he muttered. Your mother followed him, obediently, to avoid the thick air of tension that was suffocating everyone in the kitchen.

Phil couldn’t help but let curiosity get the best of him. While Elaine consoled Matty in hushed voices and picked up the broken glass on the kitchen tile, Phil drifted away from them. He could hear Elaine telling Matty that it was okay, that they could hold a smaller, more intimate engagement party next week with just close friends. He knew that he, too, should be trying to console Phil. But he was worried about you. He just couldn’t believe your family was pressuring you to marry.

Phil stood just outside the living room beside its entrance, leaning on his side against the wall and focusing on the little he could hear. Bear padded up to Phil. Much calmer now, the German Shepherd sat down and looked up at Phil with a panting smile. Phil wanted to smile and pet the dog, but instead brought his finger up to his own lips, hoping the dog wouldn’t alert everyone to what Phil was doing.

“—how embarrassed I was left feeling! In front of everybody!” It sounded to Phil like Richard was still furious, still left with his pride injured. He was on the verge of yelling, but kept his voice somewhat hushed. Maybe to avoid drawing even more humiliation to himself tonight.

Your voice was less hushed, a little bolder. “We’ve barely been dating long enough to begin even thinking about marriage, Richard! I told you I wanted to wait!”

Phil carefully peeked into the room just enough to see that the two of you were standing and you had refused to sit on the couch. Richard towered over you, clearly trying to intimidate you. You were trapped between him and the untouched couch. You nervously ran your hand through your hair as Richard continued roughly gripping one of your shoulders with one of his hands. The sight of his hands on you like that made Phil’s skin crawl and stomach lurch. He tried his best to control himself.

“[Y/N],” Richard began again, clearly still annoyed. “You already made a scene with the first proposal. But I’m not giving up on you . And so is your father—”

You scoffed at this and rolled your eyes. 

“So, please. Just stop being so stupid and stubborn for a second, and just say yes so we can both move on ”

You stayed quiet. And Phil’s mind was racing in the midst of your silence. Was it possible you were actually considering it? He remembered you when you were younger, as a kid. You were stubborn, yes, and very outspoken. It’s what stopped any kids from picking on you or your art. But you also never betrayed your own goals, your own ideas and feelings, for the sake of someone else’s preferences. Even if that meant getting into ugly fights with others and giving your mom and dad the silent treatment for weeks. It was one of many qualities in you that Phil remembered admiring, and he hoped that it was a quality that had never diminished during these last fifteen years.

Phil didn’t want to admit it, but he also felt sick to the thought of you getting engaged just when he had finally reunited with you. He felt a nauseating feeling in his gut at the idea of you marrying this, clearly, arrogant guy. Phillip Graves himself was arrogant at times—sassy even, but when it came to the people he cared about, he was never arrogant. When it came to you, he could never be arrogant.

Finally, you did answer. “I already said my thoughts on the subject, Richard,” you said firmly. At that moment, you hoped Richard and your father would respect your wishes more than anything. Once again, you felt like nothing more than a pawn. “I already said no to you once. And now I’m saying it twice. Do I have to say it a third time?”

“Well, neither of us are getting any younger, [Y/N]. If you’re as serious about this relationship as I am, then you should at least be considering marriage with me. If not, then what’s the goddamn point of this? Of any of this with you?” He placed both his hands now on your shoulders, shaking you just a little. “What do you even want out of this?”

Your face seemed almost serene. You didn’t frown, nor did you nervously smile or even produce a grimace. You placed your hands on his that were squeezing your shoulders, gently sliding them off of you and placing them back to his sides. “After tonight, Richard. I can’t give you a straight answer. I don’t know. After this scene you tried to pull despite everything I told you, I can’t say I see a future with you anymore.”

Richard leaned away, almost repulsed by your answer. He scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head furiously. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you breaking up with me? ”

Phil would’ve started laughing if he didn’t give away the fact he was spying on you and Richard. But he also wanted to beam with pride at seeing you stand up for yourself despite Richard and your dad not ceasing in urging you two to get married. He was glad to see that you never lost your fiery side as you’ve grown. 

“I guess that’s what it is,” you mustered out. “If you can’t stay in a relationship with me without getting married immediately just to make our parents happy, then maybe we just shouldn’t be in a relationship.”

Any shock was replaced with fury. Richard began seething. “You can’t be so goddamn dumb, [Y/N],” he growled out. “Why are you throwing all of this away? We could’ve had a future together, a built home, a nice family. And you’re throwing it all away just because you wanted to make a point about waiting ?!”

You scoffed. “A nice home where you’re calling me an idiot for sticking to my values. Yeah, sure.” You tried to step beside him to walk away, to finally leave this conversation behind and head back to the family that cares about you. 

But instead Richard grabbed you by your forearm, whipping you back toward him and forcing you to face him again. His eyes were now no longer narrow with disdain but wide and dilated with rage. It was a look you only saw on rare occasions, mostly when you had screaming matches after you would “ruin the mood” when he’d try to have sex with you, drunk out of his mind, after one of his work parties. 

“Let me go,” you muttered, your annoyance desperately trying to mask any fear that could be detected in your voice. 

Suddenly, Richard grabbed your face with a hand, squeezing your jaw and cheeks as he did. He forced you to look at him, even while you desperately tried to pull his hand off you, scratching his forearms and trying to push him away. Phil’s heart began racing and he could feel the blood coursing through his body grow hotter. He couldn’t believe his eyes, but all he could focus on was how the solemn look in your eyes was now replaced with one of terror and shining with wet tears beginning to form.

Richard’s fury continued. “I never thought you could be this stupid. Do you even realize what you’re doing to your—”

Phil had enough. He rushed into the room and in what felt like a flash he pushed Richard away from you. You fell onto the couch, watching in horror as Richard tried to fight back against Phil. Sure, Richard was strong and big. But Phil’s hand-to-hand combat had been refined over the years in the Marine Corps. With little struggle, he managed to subdue him, and within seconds, Richard was pinned to the ground. Phil was successful in knocking the air out of Richard, leaving the man breathless and writhing on the floor. 

“What the fuck ! Get off me!! ” Richard growled through gritted teeth.

Phil smirked for a split second before ignoring him. He let Richard crumble to the ground before he went over and tentatively kneeled in front of Y/N. He saw once again furious tears pooling in your eyes threatening to fall . He placed a gentle hand on her knee and gazed up at her. “You okay [Y/N] ? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shook your head, your own hand traveling to your jaw where Richard had roughly grabbed you. “No, I’m fine.” 

He nodded in understanding, still looking at you carefully. While he watched you, he felt Matty and Elaine rush into the room, confusion written on their faces. They saw your small form still sitting on the couch with Phil crouching in front of you while Richard was still getting up from the ground, catching his breath. 

“Th-thanks, Phil,” you said quietly. “I… didn’t know he was gonna lash out like that.”

“ He what ?!” Matty demanded. “Richard, what the hell did you do to my sister?!”

Richard was now back on his feet, he breathed out deeply and glared at Matty. Then he straightened his shirt and painted on his usual smug look of contempt he carried. “I broke up with her. If she’s not taking this relationship seriously, then neither will I.”

“What a load of bullshit,” Matty practically spat the words in Richard's face before grabbing him by his collar. Elaine watched in horror too, scurrying away to the side. Matty dragged him out of the room until both you and Phil lost sight of the two of them. Knowing Matty and his long-lasting hatred for Richard, you were sure he was kicking him out of your parents’ home. 

“Dad is going to be furious,” you mumbled to yourself, but Phil could hear you loud and clear. 

He took a seat next to you on the couch, deciding not to touch you further. He had to remind himself that you were no longer a 12 year old girl, he had to restrain himself from holding you . Yes, you two were very close when both of you were mere teens . But it had been years since you last spoke. Fifteen years to be exact, he didn’t know if you ever counted the days but he did, for some reason that even he couldn’t explain it to himself. He couldn’t overstep his boundaries. So he just pulled his hands back to his lap and sat there, trying to console you as best as he could.

“He’s not always like that… but when he is it gets too much ” you breathed out. Phil tried to listen but he was also acutely aware of how your hand, albeit sweaty from your nerves, felt on his much rougher, larger one. “Matty never liked him. But mom and dad adored him for some reason.”

Phil sighed out. He wished he could say something comforting, something that would chase all your anxieties and fears away. But all he could do was sit there and listen to nothing and everything all at once . Feeling your heat radiate from your side, and he sits besides you only a hair of a touch away. He could lean in and hold you close, and the thought made his heart flutter with nervousness. From here, he could smell how your hair smelled like roses and coconuts—

Before he could drift further away he had to snap back to reality with you still sitting next to him solemnly. How could he think that about you? You were his best friend’s sister for goodness sake… but was he in the wrong to think of you as the pretty woman that you have become? Yes he considered you as a little sister back in the day, but that was a decade and half ago. But now? His heart told him one thing but his brain said something else.

You always carried your emotions on your sleeves. If you were happy, your face would be brighter than the sun. But then if sad, a cloud would particularly be looming over your head. When you were flustered, your face would be brighter than the fresh tomato that his parents would have the cooks pick up from the farmers market And if you were angry, oh man that was something to witness. That was why he always loved teasing you and making you laugh, to get that reaction and to see those emotions. He admired them. But in your grown-up state, he noticed that trait in you lessened. It was as if you were trained to wear a mask that would hide all your emotions. Even now, watching you sit there waiting for the unknown, you try to mask your emotions, hide them in a box and lock it. And discard the keys somewhere where no one can find it. And it hurt Phill to see you in this state. He couldn’t decide which one was worse; having you go through the trauma of facing your now abusive ex boyfriend, or that you were forced to masquerade your emotions.

“I knew the guy for like half an hour, but… yeah, I can say he seems like a dick.” He pursed his lips, but raised his eyebrows when he heard and felt you start to chuckle. “Pun intended” Phil smirked as he looked at you.

“He reminds me of a guy I met back when I first joined MARSOC,” Phil continued. You tore your teary eyes away from your hands and looked at him, listening intently.  “He was big and burly too, but he actually was much more considerate. Hated bullies. Always lending the rest of us a hand if he could see we were struggling.”

You held back a snort. You couldn’t imagine Richard enduring something like Marines training, much less being generous and looking out for others if his skin was on the line. But as a child so many years back, you also couldn’t imagine Phil joining an elite fighting team. Not because he couldn’t work in a team, but because you only saw him as your brother’s best friend who just seemed to play football and video games—not shoot guns and hunt down dangerous men. So, you asked him more. While your mother was off trying to calm your father down, and your brother was getting fresh air to cool down with Elaine, the two of you stayed on the couch. While he did, Bear padded over to both of you, laying down at your feet and surely feeling sleepy already. Phil finally had a chance to reminisce out loud on some of his training days and some missions with the MARSOC Raiders—at least the parts of them he was allowed to tell others about. He even remarked how he had left the Raiders, now working with others to form a new PMC, hence why he was back in Texas. 

While you sat listening and while your tears dried, you couldn’t help but feel admiration bloom inside your chest for him. Admiration and… something familiar you still couldn’t put your finger on. Yes, you were thrilled to have him back in your life, someone you might’ve called your best friend as a young girl. You felt some nostalgia, of course. You felt like you were truly back home for the first time, even after visiting home a few times already after moving in with Richard. Still, while he spoke and you listened intently, you couldn’t help but admire how his lips moved when he smirked as he remembered something cheeky he did, or how his brows furrowed tightly and his jaw clenched when a difficult memory flashed for him. Or how he’d sometimes run his hand across the side of his head, his light brown hair getting disheveled for just a few moments without his knowing. It made you smile for a few seconds before returning your focus to his words. But even while you concentrated on him and his stories, you couldn’t ignore the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach and the way your palms sweat when you noticed him gazing at you several times.

For a moment, it felt good to disconnect from your world, from the drama and yelling of your parents and Richard. Delving into Phil’s past several years away from your hometown felt like finding an oasis in a harsh, unforgiving desert. Your racing heart that you felt when Richard had glowered down at you in furious disbelief moments ago had diminished, now a comforting lull in your chest as you listened to Phil’s familiar voice. But it was short-lived, and it made you realize, yes, this was just one night, when your parents both walked in.

Your father’s face was less red, but the tired look in his eyes made you know that he was still disappointed. “Your mother and I are heading to bed.” He pursed his lips into a thin line when he looked at you. He had so much he wanted to say to you, so much he wanted to yell too. But your mother next to him nudged him with her elbow and cleared her throat. He shook himself out of his death stare and instead looked at the man beside you. “It was, uh… good to see you, Phillip. Please give your father my regards when you see him. It’s been a while since we’ve emailed each other.”

Phil nodded curtly but said nothing in response. Next to you, he could feel how tense you still were. He didn’t want this conversation to drag on any longer. Without another word, your parents left the living room, finally retiring to their bedroom up upstairs. But replacing your parents’ spot in the living room’s entrance came Matty and Elaine. 

Elaine yawned. “How are y’all not tired yet?” 

“We’re going to be heading to the guest room in a bit. But by all means, let me know if you need anything. Just knock on our door or give me a call. I’m here.” Matty gave you a reassuring smile. 

Phil glanced down at his watch—you remember it as the same rolex that his dad had given him for his sixteenth birthday and that Phil only begrudgingly accepted.

“Jesus, time sure flies. It’s already one in the morning.” He huffed, feigning sleepiness,  and looked at you with pursed lips. He placed an earnest hand over his chest. “I’m sorry to have kept you awake so long, [Y/N].” 

You shook your head frantically. “No, don’t apologize, Phil. Catching up on what you’ve been up to has meant the world to me.”

Hit with sudden realization, Phil widened his eyes slightly. “[Y/N], do you need a place to sleep tonight?” The thought of you returning to your hotel room with your furious ex-boyfriend made his chest tighten. 

You shook your head. “No, I’ll just be sleeping in Matty’s room for the rest of my stay. So I'll be hanging around here for a while.” You honestly weren’t in a rush to return to Seattle immediately, just to have to see Richard glowering at you from every corner of his apartment. He was going to have to find a new roommate quickly.

Your brother wrapped his arm warmly around Elaine, bringing her sleepy body closer to him comfortingly. “See you two around,” he said before turning around and heading up the same stairs your parents had climbed earlier.

Phil got up from the couch, and you followed. You straightened your skirt as he rubbed the back of his neck, almost sheepishly. “Really, I mean it. I hope I didn’t bore the hell out of you, [Y/N].”

The two of you began to walk to the front door, Phil pulling out his car keys from his pockets. “No, Phil. I’m being honest. Just getting to sit and hear you speak for a while has really helped me. I’m—I feel a lot better now. Thanks to you.” You watched as he opened the door but then you realized he also is technically only visiting town. “Wait. Do-do you have a place to stay?”

He paused. He shut the door that he had left slightly ajar before, as he turned to look at you. “Oh, yeah I’m staying back at my parents’ place. They rent out the first floor as an AirBnB sometimes, especially since they mostly spend time with my uncle in St. Augustine in Florida. But they’re letting me stay on the second floor now that I’m back home for a while as I work things out.” He smiled warmly. He couldn’t help but find it endearing how you worried where he was staying as well. 

You let out a soft sigh. “Good.” You were relieved to hear not only that he wasn’t staying in some sketchy motel but that it was back in his childhood home, where you and him had spent so much time watching TV and pranking Matty on your weekends off of school. 

He leans in slightly. “That’s right,” he said in a low voice. “If you wanna come by tomorrow, we can hang out. I’ll even cook you something.” He smirked. 

You felt your heart leap and your face heat up furiously. You prayed that he couldn’t tell how flustered you felt. You tried to play it off smoothly. You tried to suppress the huge grin from growing on your lips and said, “I’ll think about it.”

Phil nodded and turned the doorknob again, getting ready to head out. “You better, or I’ll come by and snatch you myself.”

Your heart did backflips again at this. The image of eating dinner with him flashed in your mind, and you felt like your brain was short-circuiting. But you had to say something back, you had to answer without melting down. You desperately kept your composure but let out an airy laugh, one you hoped didn’t give away your nerves. “Goodnight, Phil. I’ll see you later.” 

You followed him, stepping outside to your front porch as you watched him heading back to his black sedan parked by the side of the house. You couldn’t help but watch him as he walked with the same confident strides from when he was your childhood crush, his keys jangling in his hands. 

As he pressed his car key’s FOB and and his car beeped, unlocking, he turned and glanced at you. He felt breathless as he saw as your hair blew in the cool nighttime breeze. But he didn’t want to give away how he, too, was gazing at you for too long. “Go inside, [Y/N],” he laughed. “You’re gonna catch a cold like that.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Just making sure you’re gonna head out safely, Phil,” you called back, feigning annoyance. He shook his head and chuckled as he stepped into his car, headlights turning on and engine rumbling. 

You turned around and headed back inside, closing the front door but quickly scampering to the window to look through the blinds until you saw his car disappear down the road. 

Even after chatting with him all night, you still couldn’t believe Phil Graves had somehow returned to your life.

[dark-frosted-heart]

The Fairytale Keeper's Final Assessment - Roger (Premium End)

This is the 1st anniversary event and is in his POV.

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Roger: Kate, I’d die of boredom without you. I’d miss you. So stay as a fairytale keeper.

Kate: Roger…

Roger: So, what are you going to do, Kate? Continue being a fairytale keeper? Or are you going to say farewell-to me.

Kate: I…

Roger: How about I give you an extension. I’ll wait for you at Crown Castle ‘til midnight. If you don’t want to be a fairytale keeper anymore, then you don’t have to come back.

Kate: Don’t need to come back…?

Roger: Yeah. I’ll just write “NO” on the agreement letter and that’ll be it. Alright, I’m heading out. Make a choice you won’t regret.

–

Alfons: So, you just abandoned Miss Kate? You’re the worst. Just like how the hunter abandoned Snow White. You’re a heartless, muscly glasses-wearing walking egoist!

When I got back to the castle, I grabbed Al, told him the whole story over drinks and he fired complaint after complaint.

Roger: You got some nerve hurling insults at me while ignoring how much of an ass you are yourself. Kate wouldn’t have been able to make a choice if I was there. And if I stayed, I would’ve been in trouble.

Alfons: Don’t tell me you were going to bring her back by force?

Roger: Hmmmm………?

Alfons: Oh this is not good. You’ll always be an egoist.

Ice clinked in Al’s glass of whiskey.

Roger: Al. I’m definitely egotistical, but that doesn’t mean my head’s empty. We’re all cursed, part of Crown, and killers. It’s a parade of misery and disaster. It would’ve been better if she stayed uninvolved.

Alfons: Well, I agree with you on that point.

Roger: And yet… There’s lots of things you can’t give up on. I’m sure the same can be said for you.

Alfons: … I don’t know about that. My glass is empty, so I shall be taking my leave. I hope that losing Miss Kate will make you fix your ways.

Roger: Haha, thanks.

–

How much time’s passed since Al left?

It’s not even because of my abnormally sharp hearing, but the clock sounds really loud.

(30 minutes ‘til midnight)

(What if Kate doesn’t come back?)

I’d definitely miss her a lot.

And then rationalize it as “it is what it is”.

(As we get older, we get a whole lot more decisions to make)

Five minutes ‘til midnight.

—The sound of Kate’s voice and footsteps reach my ears.

Kate: Roger!

(Ah…)

Roger: “Welcome back” Kate.

I looked up at the clock and saw that it was exactly midnight.

Kate: You must have felt a little worried. About how I might not have come back.

Roger: Well, maybe a little.

Kate: I was troubled. I mean…I have friends, and I was pretty useful as a postal worker.

Roger: Hm, I see. So why’d you come back with Liam?

Kate’s eyes dart side to side.

Kate: Well…um…it just happened that way.

Roger: I heard something like “tell it to Roger straight!”

Kate: !

Roger: Well?

Kate: The truth is…I couldn’t stand being alone so I went to see Liam at the Scala Theatre. I hung out with him…to kill some time.

Roger: Why?

Kate: Because…

Roger: Because?

Kate: Because…I wanted you to think about me of course.

Roger: …

Kate: Saying what you want, leaving everything to me… I…You know there was a chance we would've never seen each other again, right?

Roger: Yeah

Kate: You knew and yet you left just like that.

Kate started tearing up.

Kate: I thought…you’d want to spend more time with me.

(Really…this girl)

The day I met Kate, I tried to draw a line between us and have her live wisely.

A brief time at Crown as a fairytale keeper should’ve been enough.

(And yet)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: I still don’t have an answer on whether your betrayal was evil or not. Therefore— Can I not continue to think about it while being by your side? 

~~ End flashback ~~

Kate said that and tried to get to know me and Crown.

(Nothing’s changed since that day…)

(No, she’s been chasing after me incessantly)

(Ah, damn it…)

(Everything about her’s so cute. It can’t be helped)

I drew closer to Kate and pulled her into a hug.

Kate: Ro…ger?

Roger: I still want to be with you. Let’s stay together, Kate.

Kate: I’m not doing this because you told me to. I’ve…made my decision.

Roger: Pfft, hahaha. Nice. I love a woman who can think for herself. But, do you really know what this means? If we’re together, then that means you’re gonna be at my mercy.

Kate: Bring it on. I still want to know more about you and Crown. Besides…I still haven’t proved that love exists yet.

For me, love’s something that has no proof. So I don’t have any faith in it.

What we call love is a dysfunction of the brain or a misunderstanding caused by sexual desire.

That’s my definition of love—Kate wants to prove me wrong.

(It's like saying you stayed for me, isn't it?)

Whether Kate’s affections can be called love is something yet to be seen.

Roger: In the meantime, let’s kiss.

Kate: ……Huh?

Roger: Didn’t you hear me? Kiss. Kissing. You like that, don’t you? Kissing and being affectionate.

Kate: O-of course not!

Roger: I thought you really liked me if you kept chasing after me.

Kate: That’s because…it’s my duty as a fairytale keeper.

Roger: Such a hard worker. I’ll talk to Victor about giving you a raise.

Kate looked at me in annoyance.

(You’re so cute)

Roger: Well then, let’s start with this “again” form here. Let’s get along, Kate.

I held out my hand and Kate grasped it in hers.

Kate and I are connected.

Once again, with a certain temperature.

–

Fairytale Keeper’s Letter of Agreement From here on, Kate will continue her role as the fairytale keeper. Because she’s a valuable dog, or assistant, in my research on curses. Beyond that, I’m simply curious -Roger Barel

–

(Kate’s POV)

It was a few days after I chose to continue my role as the fairytale keeper.

I had suddenly received a notice from Her Majesty the Queen. Kate, I’ve heard much about your work. Thank you for everything. Therefore, I would like a reliable woman to assess something. Whether Roger, who is cursed, is suitable for Crown.

[miranyx1337]

Alastor x angel reader

FEATHER chapter VI

Tags: fluff (for now ) enemies to lovers, kissing, being protective, cuddles, sleeping problems, flirting, possesive reader is an angel, fem reader

Alastor POV

From window of the radio tower, I observed a silvery creature maneuvering through the crowd gathered under the hotel. It adeptly gave lessons in hand-to-hand combat and tips on outsmarting celestial entities. I lounged on a small rolling chair, resting my feet on the table.

Unexpressed frustration and anxiety engulfed my thoughts as I discarded another chewed-up pen. Knowing that the silvery feather hidden beneath the floor was inherently linked to its owner tempted me even more, to test its intriguing properties.

Her energy brought an unwritten relief to my shackled soul. Increasingly aware of my addiction, I shredded another pen. My hand searched the bottom of an empty drawer for the next victim. Perhaps a real victim would soothe his nerves? The taste and warmth of blood, screams, and insane doses of adrenaline always helped in moments like these.

One of the slender male figures often and closely positioned near the angelic being. it seems like he has chosen MY girl for a lunch.

With a snap of fingers transported to the company of my dear cannibalistic friend and the likely place of a future crime

’’Oh Darling, you are hiding again," her clawed fingers adjusted the slightly crumpled coat. "Everyone gathered here thanks to you, and you rot in the radio tower," she retorted disgusted.

"I'm sorry, Rosie, I was busy."

Alright, alright, but now I'm interested, who is she?"

Of course, she could only be talking about the laughing Y/N leaning her elbow on the young cannibal.

My patience is definitely being tested this day

‚,Then let me introduce you." I grabbed her arm and quickly approached to interrupt the cheerful conversation.

Rossie’s suggestive head motion clearly signaled the youngster to disappear and attend to something usefull

And this, my dear, is Y/N," - I calmly introduced, as if presenting another sightseeing spot. "Our guest from heaven."

"Oh my, so you are truly from heaven?" she replied, as if big wings weren't evidence enough. Our little angel apparently enjoyed some attention, parading cheerfully in her true form.

Yeah, it's nice to meet you, miss." Her gaze halted where I held Rosie under the arm.

"Oh, what miss? I'm Rosie, dear friend of Alastor." Too bad she had to reveal the truth so quickly; I would have liked to see if angelic beings can feel such emotions as jealousy.

"I see you're really skilled in combat."

I wouldn't say that. I can quickly spot opponents' weak points, including my brethren," she emphasized her allegiance.

Now uncomfortable questions could start, but I had already discussed it with Charlie. Y/N was declared as a founder of the ,,heavenly resistance against executions’’ and to show her support, she descended into darkness with the princess of hell.

We stared intensely at each other, and Vivien sensed the tension, letting go of my hand.

"Being honest, I've been watching you all day. Really, you are a lovely creature, and if I'm not mistaken, I could smell Alastor's perfume on you."

Ah, that intrusive and sensitive cannibalistic nose. I must admit, as always, reliable in reading situations.

"Ah yes, Y/N and I had a meeting last night to discuss some training issues." I explained

Yes, I can feel she needed to deal with your experience issues. And a 'holo hole' was the one to actually entertain you?"

A what now?"

I guess Y/N wasn't as embarrassed and angry as me for this improper remark. In the end, she was an angel. Her pure laughter entertained everybody around." "Oh sorry, I just ahahahah ."

Overlord lady starter to laugh with her

I thought it was the right moment to exit the conversation.

I wouldn't want to interrupt you, ladies, but Y/N and I still have some things to discuss.

Instantly, the smile disappeared from her angelic face. She took a more upright position, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I guess so."

Rossie said goodbye to Y/N with a quick smile and a hand on her shoulder, then immediately found herself another interesting occupation.

A heavy silence fell as I led her toward the radio tower. My demonic shadow trailing behind us definitely got too excited, like a dog seeing its owner. A whole day without her was definitely too long. I let the angel through, then closed the door behind us.

"Listen, Y/N."

An unexpected kiss interrupted me, decidedly more intense than the one initiated by me. My hands automatically moved to her waist to pull her closer, but she abruptly stepped back, leaving me unsatisfied.

"What's wrong with you? You hate others' touch, can't stand affection and romantic Things , but let me kiss you around?!"

Could she decide in what mood she wanted to be today? - ,, Y/N, let me explain everything."

"Alright!! I'm listening!"

"It's a curse. Since I ended up in hell, a curse hangs over me... when I get close to someone and form a bond it makes me a slave to them. That's why I desperately avoided closeness."

Of course, it was a lie, but it was the only explanation I came up with for the morning events. The sweet angel's knowledge of hell was limited, unaware of soul contracts or how punishments imposed on sinners worked; I could easily manipulate the truth.

I stepped closer, placing my hand on her cheek.

But you are different. You are kind, good, and lovely. For the first time I could trust somebody this much ." I continued

"You're lying. I don't know if you're someone I can trust," she said.

"Y/N, why would I lie?"

"I don't know, maybe your kiss will turn me into a demon?"

"What?

There was a bedtime story for young angels; if they acted bad, a demon would welcome them in their sleep instead of their mothers, and give them a goodnight kiss to turn them into a hell creature ."

"I've never heard a bigger nonsense since Charlie's hotel idea," - I couldn't help but laugh at this silly anecdote - And did you think these chains were a sign of turning into a demon?"

"Maybe," she said, apparently embarrassed.

"Haha, oh my dear. If you want, I can prove you every night that my demon kisses won't change your cute appearance." I leaned in to practically whisper those words

[literatecowboy]

The Rattlesnake County War

Following a botched cattle rustling job, a lone surviving outlaw finds herself thrust into a conflict between ranchers bigger than any she'd been embroiled in before. A Sheriff!Price x Outlaw!Reader fic; MDNI please; reader is AFAB and she/her pronouns are used but should otherwise be ambiguous (if I can be more inclusive/there is somewhere where I can improve on making her more "friendly" to readers let me know pls!) Warnings: hanging, angst, death, stabbings, references to guns and shootings, execution, etc. Eventual smut. I intend to write 2 versions of this fic - more information can be found in the masterlist.

1. Hanging Offense

1869, Somewhere on the Colorado River

“Cattle rustlin’ is a hangin’ offense, miss. You know that?”

You sat straight-backed in the back of the prison wagon, hands shackled, as it bumped down the dusty dirt road.

“So’s horse rustling,” you shouted over the rattling of the wagon, looking pointedly at the sheriff’s deputy as he walked beside the wagon, leading your horse. He was a young Black man who wore his hat low over his eyes and showed respectful deference to the muttonchop-toting Sheriff who drove the wagon.

“One horse - which mind you, we’re taking along for safekeeping, in comparison to one thousand head of cattle. Does that strike you as being equivalent?” the sheriff asked, turning back to look at you. You fixed him with a stony glare.

“You took the lives of my men and the rancher got his cattle back, so yes, I’d say this is unfair. I’d like my horse back so I might go on my way,” you said. “My guns should be returned to me as well.”

“You put a shot in between my legs, miss. Not sure if arming you would be beneficial to my health.” the deputy piped up, tugging on the reins as he walked and making your horse, Whiskey, balk.

“Learn to control a horse, asshole.”

“That’s Deputy Garrick to you, miss.”

As the prison wagon rattled into town, the dirt of the road became mud. Men lining the wood plank sidewalks gawked as you were paraded by. You noticed few women, and those that you did paused to gawk. The sheriff laughed.

“With how few decent women there are around these parts, half of these men might ask you to marry them yet. Welcome to Rattlesnake Point, miss!”

—

Hours later, you sat in your cell on the threadbare cot, watching the sun go down through the windows. The door opened and the sheriff looked up from his desk, a smile crossing his lips.

“Ah, Mr. Riley. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” he asked, rising from the desk and extending his hand. The two shook hands and Mr. Riley produced a wound measuring tape before stepping toward your cell.

“Good evening, Sheriff Price. If you would permit me, I would like to measure this women for the coffin I expect will need to be constructed for her, given her charges.” Mr. Riley said, offering you his hand.

“Miss. Would you mind standing for me?” he asked, unwinding the measuring tape. It uncoiled like a snake waiting to strike, its end brushing back and forth against the brick floor.

“Go fuck yourself.” you spat, your heart thumping in your chest at the thought of death so close.

“Now, miss, that’s no way to speak to Mr. Riley. He’s a fine undertaker, the finest this town has ever seen. Find it in your heart to make his job easier, or else I may have to enter your cell and measure you myself.” Sheriff Price said.

“Come in here and it’ll be your coffin Mr. Riley constructs.” you hissed. Mr. Riley smiled and rewound the tape, slipping it into his pocket.

���You seem to have imprisoned a wildcat in place of a woman, Sheriff. It is of no consequence - we can bury your body wrapped in canvas.” he said, turning to leave with a tip of his hat.

“My apologies, Mr. Riley. If I might ask a favor - if you see Deputy Garrick, would you ask him to return to me? I’ve no doubt he’s at Mr. MacTavish’s watering hole, but our work is not yet done. I would like an extra guard on watch tonight - I suspect this one to be a flight risk.” the sheriff said.

“Of course.”

—

The night passed, but not without event. The walls of the jailhouse were brick, as was the floor, and try as you you did you could not dislodge them. The bars in the window were sturdy and did not budge when you tugged. The ceiling was too high for you to reach, even standing on the flimsy cot.

The Sheriff merely sat and watched you, not lifting a finger to stop you as you searched out every avenue of escape you could. He had bested you. Your men were dead - not a soul could come to your rescue.

You slept for a few hours before being awoken at dawn by the cell door opening. The Sheriff was gone. Deputy Garrick stood in his place.

“Miss, it’s time. Please, come quietly so that you might die with your dignity.” he said softly, almost gently, reaching out his gloved hand. You stood slowly and stepped cautiously from the cell, your gaze finding the window in the wall near the front of the room. Sheriff Price stood leaned against the prison wagon outside, and his gaze met yours. He offered you a pitying smile as if you were some hapless little woman who needed to be disciplined.

With a growl, you turned and launched yourself at the deputy.

—

It took the combined might of Sheriff Price, Deputy Garrick, and Mr. Riley to wrestle you into the back of the secure wagon, kicking and screaming and spitting and biting and clawing. By the end of it they looked thoroughly unkempt and to your chagrin, thoroughly amused.

“A wildcat indeed. It’ll be interesting to see if she can fight a rope,” Mr. Riley mused.

The ride to the hanging tree was over quickly. A crowd had assembled to watch, despite the early morning, and you glared silently at them all, having been muzzled following the earlier scrap. You were not given the chance to walk - Sheriff Price hefted you over his shoulder and marched you beneath the noose, standing you on the flimsy chair before slipping the rope over your head. The Deputy was entrusted to watch you as he climbed onto a barrel and fished a paper from his pocket to read your charges.

“While unfortunate that such a beautiful member of the fairer sex feels the desire to engage in criminal behavior unbecoming of Christianity, it is imperative that she be punished for her crimes as any other…”

As the Sheriff droned on, dust was kicked up in the distance and the sound of hooves on the dirt road pounded closer. Before you could fully make out the figure riding hard in your direction, a hood was pulled over your head and all you could see was black.

“…and may God have mercy on her soul.” the sheriff finished. Your heart tightened, as did the noose around your neck. The noise of approaching horses was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in your ears. This was the end.

“Stop! Stop this execution, now!” a voice shouted out. “Those were my steers she stole, and I am commanding this to stop!”

You tensed, awaiting weightlessness. The deputy behind you froze - you could feel his hands tighten on your arms. Sheriff Price called out to the figure.

“Mr. Marshall, what is the meaning of this?” he called out. You could hear him jump down from the barrel he stood on and pass by you, leaves crunching as he approached the man.

“I don’t wish for her to be executed. Her men are dead, her gang has been eradicated. My steers are safe. There is no need for this - and I have many things to ask her.” the voice, who you assumed to be Mr. Marshall, said.

“You would ask me to set free a livestock rustler - why?” Sheriff Price asked. Their voices quieted - you could no longer hear what they were discussing. The bag was lifted from your head, then the rope pulled from your neck. You sucked in a deep breath, stumbling down from the chair and falling to your knees in the grass.

You caught sight of a young, attractive man standing before you. He offered you his hand, but you ignored it and stood on your own. Your boots left indents in the dirt.

The deputy cut your hands free and you stretched your wrists, looking around. The crowd had largely dispersed, heading back to town and grumbling about missing out on the promised entertainment. Your knees wobbled.

“I’ve been told that you might be the solution to a…problem Mr. Marshall and I are afflicted by,” the Sheriff said, folding his arms across his chest as he eyed you, obviously unconvinced.

“So you delay my execution? So I can be a tool for you to use and then discard? Hang me now and get it over with,” you demanded. Price sighed.

“As much as it pains me to say it, this…opportunity would earn you a full pardon,” he said. “I’ve been around long enough to know that if you want to bring the Lord’s justice to sinners, you don’t call upon a saint.”

—

You passed back through town sitting proud on your own horse this time. Whiskey, your large, strawberry roan mustang, was a mean mare. She had given the Sheriff and each of his men trouble as they brought her to you, only calming when you offered her some sugar from your pocket. Deputy Garrick had earned his first bruises from her after she had thrown him the previous day when he tried to ride her out of your sight.

Mr. Marshall and Sheriff Price rode on either side of you. As you passed the jail, you slowed Whiskey to a stop and gave the sheriff a pointed look.

“My guns?” you asked. Mr. Marshall seemed to be about to speak but the Sheriff shook his head.

“You’re lucky that you’re even on horseback, miss. You get your guns back, there’s nothing stopping you from putting lead in between my eyes and running off again,” he said. You sighed.

“I’m a woman of my word, sheriff. Mind that I might not be able to assist you as efficiently without my guns at my side,” you said, urging Whiskey on once more and riding in front of the men, who glanced at each other warily.

—

Mr. Marshall had lead you to a saloon.

Sheriff Price looked hesitant as you hitched your horses out front but did not leave your side regardless. As Mr. Marshall was about to pass through the swinging doors, he grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Here? Are you sure?” he asked, glancing around. You watched curiously, leaning against the saloon wall, arms folded across your chest.

“Where do you think I’ve been getting my information? Men from the Old Kingdom come here all the time, but the owner’s got no love for loyalists like them,” Mr. Marshall said. “Feeds me info from time to time.”

Pulling free from Price’s grasp, he shoved his way into the saloon. You followed without sparing the Sheriff a glance.

It was rowdy in the saloon for the mid afternoon. That morning’s work was done unusually early for the cattlemen and they sought to pass the rest of the day with drink. The piano sang from the corner as men stumbled about, finding their places at the bar or at gambling tables. Women of ill repute lined the railing overlooking the first floor from the second level, fanning themselves or smoking as they sought their marks.

The presence of Mr. Marshall had caused a mild stir, and you quickly realized that the men of this bar were no friends of his, though Sheriff Price’s presence seemed to dissuade the clientele from approaching him. You observed as a table of men, upon catching sight of Mr. Marshall, stood and exited the saloon. They mounted their horses outside and rode away rather quickly, which raised the hairs on the back of your neck. Something didn’t feel right.

“Barkeep! Where’s Mr. MacTavish?” Mr. Marshall called out as he approached the bar, tossing the bartender a coin.

“Cellar, sir. Does this have to do with the spirits you requested for your dinner party?” the barkeep asked. Mr. Marshall nodded. The barkeep eyed you up and then Sheriff Price, his brow furrowing.

“Very well. Head on downstairs,” he said, turning to fetch another drink.

—

The cellar was large which only slightly surprised you. A town containing as many cowboys as it did needed to be well-stocked with drink. As you followed Mr. Marshall deeper into the cool, lantern-lit depths, the sound of a thick Scottish accent boomed off of the kegs.

“James Marshall! It’s good tae see–” Mr. MacTavish froze when he caught sight of Sheriff Price. “You brought the Sheriff? And a lass? What’s going on?” he asked, how brow furrowing and his head cocking.

“I think she’s the perfect solution to our problem, Johnny. I let John here in on it too, and he agrees with me. There are others counting on us - we’ve never had an opportunity like this before.” James Marshall said, gesturing to you as you stood with your hands on your hips.

“Hold on, now, I still haven’t been told what exactly this problem you keep mentioning is,” you said, your brow creasing. John shook his head at the other two men.

“Not here, too many ears. Later tonight, let’s meet at my office. The others will be there too. In the meantime, I’ll explain to our…asset…what’s been going on here,” he said, turning to leave the cellar again.

“I’ll be there. See ya later, gentlemen. Lass,” Johnny said, tipping his hat to you. This made the Sheriff scoff, but he said nothing as you climbed the stairs back up to the saloon. You were the first to push through the swinging doors, and as you fiddled with your saddle, a shout sounded from down the street.

“Marshall! Get over here, boy!”

Sheriff Price’s head jerked up at the same time as yours. You watched as a big, burly man, one of the men who had hurried out of the bar earlier, stormed up to Mr. Marshall. Two other large men flanked at him.

With one punch from the burly man, Mr. Marshall was sent to the ground, hollering and clutching his nose. The man wasn’t done, though, and aimed a hard kick at his ribs. The other two flanking him were quick to join in.

You were quick to the defense of the man who’d saved your life, rolling up your sleeves as you stomped over toward Mr. Marshall’s attackers. You aimed a punch at the big one, clocking him hard in the chin and sending him stumbling back a few steps as you flexed your fingers, eyeing the others.

“You vagabonds! Stop, now!” Sheriff Price roared, surprising you with his speed. He pulled you away from the fight, shoved you to the side, and stood over Mr. Marshall, glaring down the attackers. One of them laughed, making the others chuckle too.

“You ain’t got no authority here!” he laughed, shoving Price in the chest. He staggered back a step, his chest heaving as his hands balled into fists.

“One more step and I’ll put you in the ground,” you growled, surging forward and putting yourself in front of Price and Marshall. The big one grabbed for you, but you took a step forward and swung at him, landing a strong punch and stepping up to land another. This set them off again, and someone swung at you, connecting with your nose and sending you falling onto your ass beside Mr. Marshall as he groaned, blood gushing from his nose.

The three turned on Price then, aiming punches at him and trying to grab him to force him to the ground. As you scrambled up to rejoin the fight, Mr. Marshall grabbed your hand and shoved a hard, leather-bound handle into it - a knife that had fallen during the crisis.

“Should’ve sold your land, Marshall! Should’ve left before you died in the fucking dirt!” someone yelled, making someone else laugh. You were on your feet in an instant and plunged the knife into the back of the neck of one of the men who was getting the better of Price. He gurgled, dropping to the ground as blood gushed from the wound.

This made another one of the attackers whirl around in surprise, but this time, you were ready. You yanked the knife from the dead man as he toppled to the ground and plunged it into the man’s throat with a scream as you tackled him.

The Sheriff and the remaining man were stunned still now, but the third attacker regained his composure before the Sheriff and bolted for his horse. As you tried to yank the knife free from your victim’s neck unsuccessfully, he mounted up and tore off leaving only dust in his wake.

You stood up slowly, your chest heaving. Before you could recover, Sheriff Price grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you fiercely, the blood of your victims rubbing off onto his hands.

“What the fuck have you done? You just started a war! You killed them!” he roared, shoving you back into the dirt and drawing his pistol. You scrambled away from him as he aimed at you. James was in front of you before you could blink, his hands up.

“Lower the gun, sheriff! They would have killed me. This woman saved my life!” he yelled. Sheriff Price, looking disgusted, shoved his gun back into his holster.

“And she’s just doomed countless others.”

---

@sprout-fics

[upontherisers]

Cari from tumblr my good friend Cari from tumblr !!!! Tossing you "Eye of the Storm" with Della or any ground girlie

HI ANDY I'VE MISSED YOU. here's some ground crew shenanigans just for you!!! (a little more than five lines. just 'cause this prompt is so good.)

It's rare they have to stand parade rest, or ease, or attention, or any posture that's not the way they please; that's how you know they're in trouble — they're standing at attention.

Lt. Col. Bennett hasn't cracked a smile once, not even twitched a corner of that thin mustache. He's stood in front of them, file open, trying to ignore the breeze fluttering through his curtains and the light from the most beautifully clear day outside, frowning in his falcon-esque way. If they don't all lose their stripes, Dellie's gonna dig up one of the beers they buried, climb up to the roof of the crew hut, and give herself the afternoon off. Could use the rest, after all of this.

The colonel clears his throat again and she has to chomp down on her inner lip to keep from laughing. To her left, Ken's got his face turned to the ceiling and his shoulders shake in effort to keep back a guffaw, and she imagines that Winks isn't doing much better down the line.

This is so stupid. This is the stupidest thing to ever happen to her, this is the stupidest thing she's ever done and if she doesn't lose her stripes, she's having a damn beer.

"Ah weel rehpeet," Col. Bennett says, and tears start biting at the corners of her eyes. This is so stupid. Who talks like that?

"Fourteen headlight bulbs, five spring shocks, three hundred and seventy-six F-script bolts — I don't believe any of you can count that high — and nahn parking break handles. You couldn't think to pick up a few engines?"

"Well, sir," Ken sniffs, voice tight and watery. "We only took parts without serial numbers."

Dellie breaks. This is so stupid. Winks follows her and then Ken until they're rolling on the floor, clutching their aching sides, in stitches beyond absurdity. Those Podington schmucks counted, they counted nigh four hundred bolts and realized their jeeps wouldn't start and she just pictures the looks on their dumb faces when they realized Rosie Rosenthal was only a distraction from the real tactical brilliance of the 100th. She'd give a year's worth of pay to see that, especially S/Sgt. Heller and her boarding school accent and too shiny flip of blonde hair.

Bennett sighs, and if they were in trouble he'd bark them back into attention, so he watches instead, an eyebrow rising from stormily furrowed to resignation to slight amusement, and by the time they peel themselves off the concrete, there's no talk of positions or discipline. Just a casual lean on his desk, arms crossed, impressed.

"Figure all 'em parts are in new homes?"

"Yessir."

"Ah, shit," he says, smacking the file he read from onto his desk. "'Spose I'll tell 'em I never sent no mechanics with Rosenthal, try the 95th."

As she's pulling on her cap and following Winks onto the busy Ops floor, Bennett calls out after them. "How'd you get all that onto the truck in the middle of the day?"

She stops at the door, turning over her shoulder. "What truck, sir?"

Send me a character/pairing and a title to get five lines of an imaginary fic.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

At Valentine’s Day~ Part 9 - Be Naughty

RadioApple🩷Human Au/Age Gap🩷Top!Dom!Alastor

🩷Divorced Dad!Lucifer🩷Explicit

Ribbon tight, command held true, Just a game—or something new? The past whispers, secrets spun, But was it all just harmless fun?

🩷🩷🩷

❣️Ao3❣️Original Fics (1 Year Free)❣️Tumblr❣️

The moment Alastor stepped into the private lounge, he started to question his decision to attend this bachelorette party.

Twinkling fairy lights cast a soft glow over plush velvet couches, while bottles of champagne chilled in silver buckets. All fine and rather elegant looking…until his eyes narrowed at the garish novelty decorations strewn about.

Including the anatomically correct rainbow pinata in the corner.

Alastor repressed a groan—the things he was willing to endure for his best friend.

"Al! You made it!" Charlie's exuberant voice cut through the din as she bounded over, her blonde hair bouncing with each step. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug that nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

"Of course, my dear," Alastor replied smoothly, extricating himself from her tight squeeze. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he swallowed it down with a practiced smile.

"Glad you could join us," Vaggie appeared at Charlie's side, her expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. "We weren't sure if this would be your…scene."

Alastor's smile tightened. "I assure you, I'm full of surprises."

Charlie clapped her hands together, her enthusiasm infectious.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun! We have sashes for everyone." She proudly adjusted her own 'bride' sash before presenting Alastor with one that read 'man of honor'.

"Ah, how…charming."He eyed the gaudy accessory with thinly veiled disdain.

"You have to wear it, Al!" Charlie pleaded, her eyes wide and hopeful. "Pretty please? For me?"

Alastor sighed internally, wondering how he always found himself in these situations.

With great reluctance, he allowed Charlie to drape the sash over his impeccably tailored vest. The synthetic fabric felt like a constant reminder of how out of place he was in this world of frilly femininity.

Charlie introduced him, again, to the other guests—Emily's bubbly enthusiasm, Lute's stern nod, and Cherri's mischievous grin.

"Just try not to rain on Charlie's parade, okay? This means a lot to her." Vaggie's lips quirked into a small smile.

Alastor nodded, his resolve strengthening.

For Charlie's sake, he would endure this evening of debauchery and forced merriment. He straightened his posture, adjusted his glasses, and plastered on his most convincing smile.

"Well then," he said, reaching for a flute of champagne, "shall we get this party started?"

Anthony sauntered into the center of the room, his cheeks already flushed—though that could be from his makeup.

"Alright, my beautiful degenerates!" He raised his glass high, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "We have booze, we have games, we have a piñata in the shape of a dick—this is going to be the most legendary bachelorette party in history!"

Alastor winced internally at the crass declaration, but maintained his composed exterior.

He lifted his own glass to his lips, taking a measured sip of the crisp champagne. The bubbles danced on his tongue, a stark contrast to the mild distaste he felt for the situation.

"My, my," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "What an…eclectic array of entertainment you've arranged, Anthony."

Charlie caught his eye from across the room, her expression a mix of excitement and pleading.

Alastor offered her a small, reassuring smile. He may not be thrilled with the proceedings, but he wouldn't let his discomfort dampen her joy.

Anthony clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention.

"Now, let's kick things off with our first game: How Well Do You Know the Brides!" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "And trust me, toots, these questions are going to get deliciously naughty."

As the group gathered around, Alastor hung back slightly, positioning himself on the periphery. He observed the giggly excitement of the other guests, noting the way Charlie leaned into Vaggie, their fingers intertwined.

A warmth spread through his chest at the sight of their happiness, momentarily overshadowing his discomfort.

Perhaps, he mused, enduring a few hours of this revelry was a small price to pay for supporting their union.

Anthony sauntered around the room, distributing small wooden paddles to each guest. One side bore Charlie's name in looping script, while the other displayed Vaggie's in bold, angular letters.

"Alright, ladies—and gent," Anthony announced with a flourish. "Our lovely brides-to-be will sit right here in the hot seat." He gestured to a plush loveseat adorned with glittering heart-shaped pillows.

Charlie giggled as she settled onto the seat, tugging Vaggie down beside her.

"Now, my darling brides," Anthony continued, producing a stack of cards with a dramatic wave. "I'll ask the questions, and you lovely degenerates will vote on who you think the answer applies to. Charlie or Vaggie?"

He demonstrated by flipping his own paddle back and forth.

“Then our brides will tell us their answer.” Anthony gestured to the paddles Vaggie and Charlie were holding.

Alastor twirled his paddle between his long fingers from where he stood behind the sofa that Cherri, Lute, and Emily occupied.

This might prove more amusing than he'd anticipated.

"First question!" Anthony's voice rang out. "Who's the early bird in this relationship?"

A flurry of paddles went up, a sea of ‘Vaggie’ facing the room. Charlie pouted playfully as Vaggie raised her own paddle.

“Hey!” Charlie said, with a little mock of an indignant huff.

"Someone has to make sure this one doesn't sleep through breakfast." Vaggie nudged her fiance affectionately.

The questions continued, growing increasingly personal with each round.

"Who's more likely to cry during a movie?"

Alastor answered confidently Charlie, along with the majority.

"Who's the better cook?"

Vaggie, obviously, given Charlie's sheepish grin.

As the champagne flowed freely, Anthony's questions took a decidedly more risqué turn.

"Ooh, here's a spicy one!" the wedding planner’s eyes gleamed with naughtiness. "Who's more likely to suggest trying something new in the bedroom?"

A chorus of giggles erupted as paddles wavered uncertainly. Alastor, however, didn't hesitate.

Charlie's cheeks flushed crimson as she slowly raised her paddle, confirming Alastor's assertion. Vaggie shot him a look.

"My, my, Alastor," Anthony purred. "You seem to know our brides quite intimately. Care to share your secrets?"

Alastor's smile never wavered. "A gentleman never reveals his his secrets, or someone else’s."

The game continued, each question eliciting a new wave of giggles and blushes from the assembled guests. Alastor remained composed, his posture perfect as he ordered a drink from a cocktail waitress.

Despite his initial reluctance, he found himself increasingly engaged in the frivolous game.

"Who's more likely to initiate a quickie in a public place?" Anthony asked with a salacious wink.

The room erupted in squeals and laughter as paddles wavered uncertainly. Alastor, however, raised his paddle without hesitation, Charlie's name facing outward.

Charlie's face turned a shade of red that rivaled her bride sash as she sheepishly raised her own paddle.

"Charlie!" Vaggie exclaimed. "I didn't think you'd admit to that one!"

The blonde buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with embarrassed laughter. "I can't help it if I find you irresistible, babe," she mumbled through her fingers.

As the laughter died down, Vaggie's gaze settled on Alastor, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Okay, how did you know that one? You're getting all of these right."

Alastor's smile never faltered as he took a sip of his whiskey sour.

"My dear Vaggie, Charlie and I talk, often. I offer my advice." he said smoothly. "You're welcome."

The room fell silent for a moment before erupting into a cacophony of whoops and hollers. Charlie's blush deepened, if that was even possible, while Vaggie's mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

"Oh my God, Charlie!" Emily squealed, fanning herself dramatically. "You've been getting sex tips from Alastor?"

"It's not like that!" Charlie groaned, burying her face in Vaggie's shoulder. "Al's just…really good at giving relationship advice."

“I merely provide the occasional suggestion.” Alastor chuckled softly, adjusting his glasses. “The execution is entirely up to our lovely brides-to-be.”

Anthony clapped his hands together. "Well, well, well! Man of honor, you’ve been holding out on us. I think we need to hear more about these 'suggestions' of yours."

"I'm afraid that information is strictly confidential." Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile taking on a hint of challenge.

The room dissolved into laughter once more, the atmosphere electric with curiosity and excitement. Vaggie shook her head, a reluctant smile on her lips.

Alastor's smirk deepened as he took a sip of his whiskey sour, the burn of alcohol barely registering.

"Alright, ladies—and gentleman," he winked at Alastor, "time for our next game: Pin the Bow on the Bride!"

Charlie perked up and she bounced to her feet. "Ooh, this sounds fun!" she exclaimed, tugging Vaggie up with her.

Alastor watched as the two brides-to-be made their way to the center of the room, surrounded by plush couches and twinkling fairy lights. The soft glow cast a warm hue on Charlie's flushed cheeks.

"Alright, Vaggie, you're up first," Anthony announced, handing her a silky bowtie. "Let's see if you can dress your bride properly."

Vaggie's face softened as she gazed at Charlie, her usual stern expression melting away.

"Easy," she murmured, stepping forward with a grace that belied her slight tipsiness.

With deft fingers, Vaggie looped the bowtie around Charlie's neck, adjusting it with care. Her touch lingered, causing Charlie to shiver slightly.

Alastor found himself averting his gaze.

"Perfect!" Charlie beamed, admiring Vaggie's handiwork. "My turn!"

"Go get 'er, toots," Anthony handed Charlie another bow, this one adorned with tiny rhinestones.

Charlie giggled, the champagne clearly having its effect as she swayed slightly.

"Okay, hold still, babe," she instructed, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Alastor watched, amused, as Charlie circled Vaggie, clearly aiming for her fiancée's long dark hair. However, at the last moment, Charlie stumbled slightly.

With another giggle, she reached out and firmly planted the bow on Vaggie's ass.

"Charlie!" Vaggie yelped, spinning around.

"Oops?" Charlie offered innocently, before dissolving into a fit of laughter.

Alastor couldn't help but chuckle, raising his glass in a silent toast to the happy couple. Despite his earlier concerns, seeing them like this—playful, affectionate, and utterly devoted—warmed even his cynical heart.

"Ladies and gentleman, it's piñata time!" Anthony announced with a flourish, brandishing what was unmistakably a penis-shaped decoration.

"Good lord," Alastor felt his eyebrows climb towards his hairline, torn between amusement and mild horror.

As Anthony hung the anatomically dubious creation from a hook in the ceiling, Alastor observed the room's reactions.

Charlie clapped her hands in delight, while Vaggie rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smirk.

Emily and Lute exchanged scandalized glances, and Cherri whooped with enthusiasm.

"Who wants first crack?" Anthony asked, twirling a blindfold enticingly.

One by one, the girls took their turns, stumbling and swinging wildly as Anthony spun them around.

Their attempts were spectacularly unsuccessful, but filled the room with peals of laughter.

"Damn, this thing's harder than it looks," Cherri grumbled, rubbing her shoulder after a particularly enthusiastic miss.

"Hey, Al," Anthony's gaze settled on Alastor, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You've used a cane blindfolded before. Wanna show these amateurs how it's done?"

Alastor felt a flutter of…something in his chest. Anticipation? Nostalgia? He tamped it down, schooling his features into a look of polite disinterest.

"I think I'll pass, thank you," he replied smoothly.

But the damage was done.

The girls, fueled by alcohol and the excitement of the evening, latched onto the idea with fervor.

"Oh, come on, Al!" Charlie pleaded, her eyes wide and sparkling.

"Yeah, show us your moves!" Cherri added with a wink.

Alastor's resolve wavered.

He'd always prided himself on being in control, on keeping his past firmly separate from his present. But surrounded by the warmth and joy of this celebration, watching Charlie's eager face, and maybe with a little alcohol loosening his shirt collar…he felt an unfamiliar urge to let his guard down, just a little.

"Very well," he conceded with a sigh, setting down his drink. "But I make no promises about the outcome."

As he stood, straightening his vest, Alastor couldn't help but wonder if he was making a mistake. But the chorus of delighted cheers from the assembled party goers drowned out his doubts.

Anthony approached Alastor with exaggerated flair, brandishing a silky blindfold. "Let's give 'em a show, shall we?" he murmured, just low enough for Alastor to hear.

"Do try to behave yourself, Anthony," Alastor quirked an eyebrow, a half-hearted glare flickering across his face.

As Anthony made a show of tying the blindfold, Alastor's world went dark.

The sounds of the room intensified—giggles from the tipsy girls, the clink of ice in glasses, the rustle of fabric as people shifted on the couches.

He inhaled deeply, centering himself.

"Here you go, big shot," Anthony's voice came from his left, pressing the smooth wood of the cane into Alastor's hand.

Alastor's fingers curled around the familiar weight, muscle memory from countless performances flooding back. He took a careful step forward, extending the cane. It made contact with something solid but hollow, and he allowed himself a small smirk.

Slowly, deliberately, he dragged the cane along the shape of the piñata.

His mind painted a vivid picture of the ridiculous penis-shaped target, and he had to stifle a chuckle. The room had gone oddly quiet, as if everyone was holding their breath.

In one fluid motion, Alastor drew back the cane and struck. The satisfying 'crack' of impact was followed immediately by a shower of what he assumed were candies hitting the floor.

The girls erupted into laughter, their voices a cacophony of delight and disbelief.

"Holy shit!" Cherri's voice broke the silence. "What was the piñata's safe word?" she quipped, causing another wave of giggles.

Alastor removed the blindfold, blinking as his eyes readjusted to the low light. He couldn't quite keep the smug grin off his face as he surveyed the carnage—piñata fragments and colorful sweets littered the floor.

Penis and vulva-shaped sweets. Lovely.

"Well," he said, twirling the cane with a flourish, "I do hope that was sufficiently entertaining."

Alastor settled back onto the plush couch, crossing his legs and smoothing his slightly rumpled shirt. He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The familiar rush of performance tingled through his veins, mingling pleasantly with the alcohol's warmth.

"Wait, how do you know how to do that?" Emily, her cheeks flushed from drinking, leaned forward, her eyes wide with drunken curiosity.

For a split second, Alastor froze, weighing the implications of honesty against the merits of discretion.

He caught Anthony's eye across the room, noting the impish grin there.

"I'm simply talented, my dear," Composing himself, Alastor's lips curled into a smooth, enigmatic smile.

Emily giggled, seemingly satisfied with the non-answer.

Alastor relaxed ever so slightly, grateful for the distraction as Anthony bustled around, refreshing everyone's drinks.

"Alright, my lovelies," Anthony announced, his voice carrying a hint of playful menace. "Time for our next game—'Never Have I Ever'!"

A tendril of apprehension—and perhaps a touch of excitement— curled in his stomach.

"We'll start nice and easy," Anthony continued, settling into his seat with a fresh cocktail. "Who wants to go first?"

As the first innocent questions began, Alastor sipped his drink, his mind wandering.

He wondered, briefly, what Lucifer might think of all this.

Charlie admitted she'd never been snowboarding and Vaggie confessed to a childhood shoplifting incident.

Alastor found himself relaxing, the alcohol's warmth spreading through his body, loosening the tight control he usually maintained.

"Never have I ever…tied someone up," Anthony drawled, his gaze fixed on Alastor.

Without hesitation, Alastor raised his glass to his lips, taking a measured sip. He noticed Charlie and Cherri doing the same from the corner of his eye.

The room erupted in giggles and playful jeers.

"Oh, do tell, Al," Anthony purred, leaning forward. "Was it for business or pleasure?"

“Well,” Alastor's lips quirked into a smirk. “Why can’t it be both?”

As the questions continued, each more daring than the last, Alastor found himself drinking more often than not. The alcohol buzzed pleasantly in his veins, making the edges of the world soft and warm.

"Never have I ever used a safe word," Emily ventured, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Alastor chuckled low in his throat as he raised his glass once more. "Darling, in my line of work, safe words are essential," he murmured, his usual filter slipping just a bit.

Anthony's eyes practically glittered as he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Alastor.

"Never have I ever…" he paused dramatically, savoring the moment, "spanked someone in front of a room full of people."

A hush fell over the group, punctuated by a few nervous giggles. Alastor felt all eyes turn to him, expectant and curious.

With deliberate slowness, he raised his glass to his lips and took a long sip, maintaining eye contact with Anthony over the rim.

The room erupted in a cacophony of gasps and exclamations. Emily’s eyes widened in surprise, while Vaggie's eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

Cherri let out a low whistle of appreciation.

"Oh my God, Alastor! You have to tell us more. When? Where? Why?" Emily, her inhibitions lowered by the champagne, leaned forward eagerly.

Alastor set his glass down carefully, adjusting his glasses as he considered his response.

The memory of that night, of many nights, flashed through his mind—the dim lighting of the club, the expectant hush of the crowd, the sharp crack of leather against skin.

He allowed a small, enigmatic smile to play across his lips.

"I assure you, my dear," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, "it was purely professional. A demonstration, if you will, for a rather…specialized audience."

The vague answer only seemed to fuel the group's curiosity.

"What kind of specialized audience?" Lute asked, the heavy disbelief in her voice colored with curiosity.

Alastor chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm in the intimate space. "Now, now," he admonished gently, "Let's just say it was an educational experience for all involved."

Cherri leaned forward, her pink hair haven fallen over her face but her visible eye bright. “Wait, so you’ve been a Dom, professionally? Like paid to do it?”

Alastor's smile sharpened, a hint of pride coloring his voice. "Indeed, I have."

"That's hot as hell!" Cherri whooped, raising her glass in a toast.

Emily and Lute exchanged glances, shock and fascination painted across their features.

Charlie giggled, the alcohol loosening her tongue. "That's actually how Al and I met!" she blurted out, oblivious to the raised eyebrows around her.

Alastor felt a flutter of warmth in his chest, remembering that day. He hadn't expected the bright-eyed blonde in the pink sweater to become such an integral part of his life.

"He was giving a demonstration, and I just happened to stumble in…"

Alastor's vision swam slightly as he leaned back, the alcohol finally catching up with him. He chuckled, his usual composure slipping just a bit.

"Oh, but it was quite the sight," he mused, his voice a low, velvet purr. "There she was, in that adorably fluffy pink sweater, looking so out of place among the leather and lace."

"Al!" Charlie's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but her eyes sparkled with mirth.

"You should have seen her face when I picked up that paddle," Alastor continued, thoroughly enjoying himself now. "I thought she might faint on the spot."

The room erupted in giggles and gasps. Vaggie snorted into her drink, while Emily covered her mouth in mock scandal.

Alastor's mind drifted, recalling the thrill of commanding a room, the power in every controlled movement.

A small, devious smile played at his lips. "Though I must say," he added, emboldened by the whiskey coursing through his veins, "that particular demonstration was rather…tame compared to some of the private shows Anthony and I used to put on."

The words left his mouth before he could fully consider their impact.

The room fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted with a cacophony of excited voices.

"Wait, what?" Lute, Emily, and Cherri exclaimed in near-perfect unison, their eyes wide with tipsy curiosity. Even Charlie looked flabbergasted.

Alastor felt a flush creep up his neck, the alcohol in his system making it harder to maintain his usual composure.

He opened his mouth to deflect, but Anthony beat him to it.

"Alastor and I used to put on quite the show." Anthony's voice was pure delight, his grin positively wicked.

Damn you, Anthony.

Alastor couldn’t help but chuckle, a tipsy grin spreading across his face as he felt the eyes of the room on him. He took a generous sip of his drink, savoring the moment.

Anthony, clearly enjoying himself, leaned forward with a gleam in his eye. "We had a whole act—stage names and all I was Angel Dust, the cheeky little tease, and Al here was…" He waved his hand theatrically toward Alastor.

"…The Demon," Alastor declared softly, his voice low but filled with pride and nostalgia.

"A teasing innocent and an aloof gentleman Dom? That was gold, toots!" Anthony continued, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

Alastor hadn't thought about those days in ages, and sharing it now, amidst Charlie's friends, tittering and tipsy, felt forbidden.

And thrilling.

"It was quite the gig, wasn't it?" he said playfully, adjusting his glasses with a conspiratorial wink.

Even as he spoke, the memories danced in his mind—the exhilaration of the performance, the surge of power, the way he could captivate an audience with just a gesture.

It had been intoxicating, indeed.

And now, with everyone's eager eyes on him, he felt a spark of that old excitement igniting within him

Anthony leaned forward, mischief written all over his grin and his mismatched eyes.

"C'mon, sir," he teased, his voice slipping effortlessly into the bratty tone he'd used in their past performances. "You're too buttoned-up to just sit there all night. Show us what you've got."

Alastor arched a brow, sipping his drink to mask his surprise as the familiar dynamic sent a jolt through him, awakening muscle memories he thought long forgotten.

"What exactly are you suggesting, Anthony?" he asked, his voice low and controlled.

"I'm saying, let's give the happy couple a preview of how you used to work the room. Nothing sleazy, just a little… demonstration." Anthony laughed, gesturing dramatically to their captivated audience.

Alastor pursed his lips as he thought it over.

Part of him wanted to shut this down immediately, to maintain the carefully crafted image he'd built since those days. But another part, fueled by the alcohol and the electric energy in the room, was intrigued.

He glanced at Charlie, seeing her eyes wide with curiosity and excitement.

"Pleeease, Al!" his best friend pleaded, her words slightly slurred from the champagne. "Just a little show!"

Vaggie smirked beside her, clearly amused by her fiancée's enthusiasm. Alastor knew that look—Vaggie wouldn't intervene. Charlie wouldn't let this go.

With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and apprehension, Alastor set down his glass. "Very well," he said smoothly, though his voice held a hint of amusement. "But only because it's for you, darling."

As he rose to his feet, Alastor felt a familiar persona settling over him like a second skin.

The Demon. Commanding, controlled, with just a hint of danger. He loosened his bowtie, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

This might be interesting after all.

Alastor glided to the center of the room, his movements fluid and purposeful. He wasn’t and never had been a sloppy drunk, but The slight buzz from the alcohol heightened his awareness of every eye upon him.

He swept his gaze across the assembled group, noting the anticipation and curiosity on their faces.

"Now then," Alastor purred, his voice low and velvety. He turned to Anthony, arching an eyebrow. "You are volunteering to…assist me, aren’t you Angel?” He asked, with an offer of his hand.

Anthony downed the rest of his drink, and let Alastor help him up to the center of the velvet couches.

“I trust your safe word is still the same.” The brunette asked, in a very brusk, business-like tone.

"You know it, sir. 'Pineapple' is still the magic word." Anthony grinned. “And you still have the same boundaries about touching?”

“Yes,” Alastor nodded, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of sentimentality for their old performances.

As Alastor contemplated his next move, he felt a familiar thrill coursing through his veins.

It had been years since he'd stepped into this role, but it felt as natural as breathing.

He knew he should feel more hesitant, more conflicted about revisiting this part of his past. But in this moment, with the energy of the room crackling around him, all he felt was alive.

"Very well," Alastor murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly as he focused on Anthony. "Shall we begin?"

The bleach blonde nodded, and he wasn’t the only one.

Alastor's gaze fell upon a silken scarf draped over the back of a nearby chair, its bright pink hue catching the soft light of the room.

He plucked it up, letting the smooth fabric slide between his fingers. The weight of it, the cool sensation against his skin, grounded him in the moment.

He turned back to Anthony, twirling the scarf with a practiced flick of his wrist. The motion was hypnotic, drawing all eyes in the room.

Alastor could feel the tension building, a delicious anticipation hanging in the air.

"Angel, dear," Alastor purred, his voice dropping to a low, commanding timbre that sent a visible shiver through the room. "You should know better than to taunt me."

As the words left his lips, Alastor felt a familiar rush of power. This ability to command attention, to bend others to his will with just his voice and presence.

He allowed himself a small, predatory smile, reveling in the way Anthony's eyes widened slightly in response.

Oh, how he missed this feeling.

He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the electricity, on the rapt attention of their audience.

This was a performance, after all, and Alastor was nothing if not a consummate showman.

Anthony's grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he crossed his arms and leaned back in mock defiance.

The gesture was pure Angel Dust, a perfect echo of their past performances.

"Oh, what are you gonna do, sir?" Anthony drawled, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Tie me up with that scarf?"

Alastor’s lips curled into a smirk as he stepped closer, maintaining an aura of absolute control. The room seemed to shrink, narrowing to just the two of them.

"Perhaps I will," Alastor murmured, his voice low and smooth. He gestured elegantly with one hand. "Hold out your wrists, darling."

Anthony obliged without hesitation, clearly relishing the theatrics.

With a deft hand, Alastor grasped Anthony's shoulders and spun him around, eliciting a soft gasp from his willing captive.

The silk scarf unfurled like a ribbon in his practiced fingers as he bound Anthony's wrists behind his back, creating an intricate pattern that was as much art as restraint.

"Too tight?" Alastor murmured, his breath ghosting over Anthony's ear.

“No sir.”

The watching women tittered and whispered, their excitement palpable. Alastor caught Charlie's eye and saw her give an encouraging nod, her cheeks flushed with alcohol and delight.

"Go on, Demon!" Cherri called out, her phone suspiciously held at eye level. "Teach us somethin’!"

Alastor hesitated for a split second. This was escalating quickly, and a part of him wondered if he should stop. But the alcohol buzzing in his veins and the expectant faces around him pushed him forward.

He reached for the discarded cane from the piñata game, its smooth surface cool against his palm.

"Very well," he purred, guiding Anthony towards an overstuffed ottoman between the sofas. "Bend over, my dear. Let's give our audience a proper demonstration."

As Anthony complied, arching his back invitingly like the professional he was. Like the both had been.

e. It was so familiar, yet so different in this context. He raised the cane, acutely aware of the eyes upon him, feeling both exhilarated and strangely vulnerable.

Alastor ran the cane slowly up along the outside of Anthony's legs, feeling the familiar rhythm of a performance settling into his bones.

He cleared his throat, adopting the smooth, authoritative tone he'd perfected over years of demonstrations.

"Now, ladies, the key to safe impact play is knowing where to strike," he explained, tapping Anthony's thigh lightly. "Avoid joints and bones—that can cause real damage. The sweet spots are here," he dragged the cane across Anthony's upper thighs, "and here." He rested it against the curve of the other man’s ass.

Without warning, Alastor brought the cane down with a sharp crack against Anthony's thigh.

The blonde let out a surprised yelp that quickly dissolved into a giggle.

"Harder, sir!" Anthony teased, wiggling his hips provocatively.

Alastor rolled his eyes at Anthony's antics, though a small smirk played at the corner of his lips.

The familiar banter, the push and pull of their dynamic, was as alluring as the whiskey coursing through his veins. He adjusted his grip on the cane, feeling the smooth wood against his palm, the weight of it an extension of his arm.

"Patience, Angel," Alastor purred, his voice low and rich with promise. "You know better than to rush me."

With practiced precision, Alastor brought the cane down again, striking the exact same spot on Anthony's thigh.

The crack of impact echoed through the room, followed immediately by Anthony's sharp yelp of surprise and pain.

"Fuck!" Anthony gasped, his body tensing beneath the silken bonds.

Alastor leaned in close, his breath hot against Anthony's ear. "Language, darling," he admonished softly, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

Straightening up, Alastor addressed the rapt audience, his voice taking on a professorial tone.

"You see, ladies," he explained, trailing the cane lightly over the reddening mark on Anthony's thigh, "striking the same area repeatedly intensifies the sensation. The nerves are already sensitized from the first impact, making each subsequent hit more…potent."

To demonstrate, he tapped the cane lightly against the mark, causing Anthony to shiver and let out a soft whimper.

The room was thick with tension, the air magnetic with anticipation and curiosity.

Alastor could feel the weight of their gazes, could practically taste their fascination on his tongue.

It was heady, this power, this control. He'd forgotten how much he'd missed it.

"And that, my dears, is how it's done," Alastor concluded, straightening up. He set the cane aside, acutely aware of the heat in his cheeks.

"Now, it's crucial to know how to release your partner quickly," With practiced ease, Alastor reached for the knot binding Anthony's wrists. He pulled the silk free, letting it slither to the floor.

"Aw, but what if I wanted a different kind of release?" Anthony turned, grinning wickedly.

Alastor huffed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes again.

"That's quite enough of that, Anthony," he said firmly, though he couldn't quite keep the amusement from his voice.

The air buzzed with excitement, thick with the scent of perfume and drinks.

Charlie's eyes were wide with wonder, her cheeks flushed a deep red that matched her bride sash.

Vaggie, usually so composed, looked torn between shock and fascination.

Emily and Lute huddled together on the plush velvet couch, whispering furiously and stealing glances at Alastor.

Cherri, ever the wild card, was practically bouncing in her seat, her phone still suspiciously aimed in his direction.

Anthony stretched languidly, the silk scarf still dangling from one wrist. He winked at Alastor, a silent acknowledgment of their shared past and the unexpected thrill of revisiting it.

The blonde sauntered back to his seat, an exaggerated sway in his hips that drew giggles from the assembled guests.

Alastor smoothed down his vest, adjusting his glasses with a practiced motion. The familiar rush of performance still thrummed through his veins, mingling with the pleasant buzz.

He felt oddly light, as if a weight he hadn't realized he'd been carrying had been lifted.

"Well, ladies," he said, his voice rich with amusement, "I do hope that was… educational."

The room erupted in cheers and applause, punctuated by wolf whistles from Cherri.

Charlie stumbled to her feet, nearly tripping over her own sash in her enthusiasm.

"Oh my God, Al!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. "That was amazing! "

Alastor chuckled, this time accepting Charlie’s prolonged embrace. "My dear, there's quite a lot you don't know about me," he teased, tapping her nose affectionately.

I'm not sure I'll ever look at you the same way again." Vaggie approached, showing her admiration and lingering skepticism.

"Perhaps that's for the best," Alastor replied with a wink, earning a laugh from the usually stern woman.

As the excitement began to settle, Alastor found himself at the center of a whirlwind of questions and compliments.

The bridesmaids, emboldened by alcohol and the night's revelations, peppered him with increasingly personal inquiries. He deflected with practiced ease.

He wouldn’t give any details about himself or more intimate acts with Lucifer.

Those were two separate lives, as far as Alastor was concerned.

❣️Ao3❣️Original Fics (1 Year Free)❣️Tumblr❣️

[tqmies]

Can I request Mark + College or Fake dating + prompt 42?

Rush | Mark Lee

Part of Tqmies 1K Event!

college & fake dating au, 42. “Who’s laughing now?” “…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.”  wc: 1k Note: why choose an AU when we can have both ?!

"I want to piss off my parents - Which isn't illogical, by the way - so what better way than to drag you into it?!"

"Is this supposed to make me agree?" You quirk a brow, tapping a nail on the desk in front of you. And your wearing a frown, taken aback by the sheer audacity of the male in front of you, who you haven't spoken to in years, asking you for help.

"It'll only be for a bit! I'll parade you around for a bit, make my mom blow up in her chair, and then we'll fake break up!"

"I'm missing the part where I benefit from this.. And why me anyways?" You loll your head to the side, its not like you were a particularly bad influence or anything. You were nice, hard working, and a good student. If anything, you were a mothers dream for their son.

"My mom hates your mom."

Ah there it was, the moment of truth. You and Mark's mom had attended high school together, and from what you know, the two weren't fond of each other at all.

But your mom held no ill intent towards Mark, would Mark's mom hate you? How immature, doesn't sound too far off of what your mom would say.

"Still don't see what I get from it." You shrug, going back to your book.

"You'll get to date me." He points at himself, eye brows raised as he's dead serious. He thought of himself as a catch, why weren't you jumping at him?

You want to laugh in his face.

"And I'll pay you."

"Now we're talking." You nod, not one above being payed off. Hey, you'd done far more questionable things for as little as twenty dollars.

But being faced with someone as affluent as Mark, you're sure you'd get a check out of this.

Which is why you're now standing beside him as he shoves his hands in his pockets, waiting for his parents to get the doorbell. You had to admit it, you were kind of nervous.

Not that you really liked Mark or anything, but you weirdly felt pressured to win over his parents.

The door opens and you're met with Mark's dad, and he offers his a son a curt nod before he turns towards you. "Oh, will you be joining us for dinner tonight?"

The smile is wiped off your face. "He didn't tell you?"

Mark's dad shakes his head, and Mark avoids any direct eye contact with you. Oh you were going to piss Mark's parents off, that's for sure. Mark's dad just turns and heads inside, the two of you following after.

You enter behind him into the kitchen, where Mark's mom is. Her eyes widen among seeing you, "Mark, honey, I didn't know you were bringing a guest."

"Ma, this is my girlfriend."

You expect steam to blow out of her head, for her to angrily rage and demand you leave, to even start cursing out her son.

But she does none of that, instead offering you a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you. Mark didn't tell me we were having guests, or else I would've cooked up something special."

You shake your head, unable to stop yourself from returning the kindness. "The food smells amazing."

Why'd Mark want to piss off such nice people anyways?

The evening goes pretty well, and Mark thinks that he's not getting his moneys worth. He had bet by this time at night that you'd be getting ran out of the house as he got berated for dating you.

But none of that is happening, in fact his mom looks happy as ever. She doesn't mind your mother either, she had to know by now, you had even given her the names of your parents when she asked. So why was she keeping it together so well? Didn't they hate each other?

You tell Mark's mom your major and she jumps up. "Oh wow, so pretty and smart. How did my son manage to snag you?"

You just nervously laugh, shrugging playfully. "I don't know either."

"Mark usually brings home such trouble makers." She shakes her head as she cuts into her food. "It's a relief to see he found someone so good for him."

..

Mark slams the door as he climbs into the drivers seat, and you can tell he's mad. And really, you can't blame him, seeing as his parent's didn't seem pissed off at all.

"Well, guess your genius plan didn't work out after all, guess I'm just too likable." You make a snark comment, crossing your arms.

Mark leans his head against his steering wheel as you continue.

"Tried to use me to piss off those sweet people! Jokes on you, Who's laughing now?" You mock, facing Mark when he doesn't respond.

Instead you notice wet tears fall off his face, the sound of sniffling as well. You grow confused at that. ".. Clearly not you. You're crying, dear God."

He wipes as his face aggressively as he sits back up. He looks at you as he scoffs. "My parents don't like anyone, okay? Even if they didn't care about your mom, I knew they'd find something to pick at you for. They always comment on my date's outfit or their manners."

"Oh wow, I'm sorry Mark. That's really shitty." You respond.

"But the one time I try and piss them off, they like you?" He says, bewildered. "Not a single bad thing to say? And it's all for a girl that I'm not even dating. God, I'm such a loser, why did I think this was a good idea? How am I going to explain that I let the one good thing I had go?"

You assume he's referring to you not showing up anymore, and for as little as you know the boy, you find yourself sympathizing. "I can always show up again, if that helps."

He nods a little, "Sorry I dragged you into this."

You can't believe you ever agreed to this fake dating thing, but something you tells you that you'll be sticking around longer that you intended.