#and the genesis playlist was meant to be

[ace-disaster-weeb]

Here's that Angeal playlist I was foreshadowing! Heads up, in case you couldn't already tell by the title, this one is depressing AF, like I actually cried listening to it. And once again, huge thank you to @rottenpumpkin13 for song recs!

BEST ENJOYED WITHOUT SHUFFLE

[rafesangelita]

what music does rafe listen to when he’s making love? n what music would the readers pick 😊😊

i’ve been WAITING for this question!! i’ll do five songs each <3 these are all songs that i listen to myself and LOVE!! i would highly recommend all of these 🤍

edit: i realized now that you asked what songs the !reader’s would pick, i didn’t know if you meant ‘love making’ songs, so i just put songs that would be on their playlists <3

making love w rafe (HIS playlist):

drake - trust issues

brent faiyaz - poison

the weeknd - what you need

the weeknd, drake - the zone

eminem, dina rae - superman

bambi!reader’s playlist:

lana del rey - thunder

sophie woodhouse - doe eyes

sophie woodhouse - forest nymph

lana del rey (unreleased) - trash magic

lana del rey - this is what makes us girls

pogue!sweetheart!reader:

clairo - heaven

kali uchis - loner

mazzy star - fade into you

cigarettes after sex - sweet

lana del rey (unreleased) - meet me in the pale moonlight

kook!sweetheart!reader:

addison rae - diet pepsi

sabrina carpenter - espresso

lana del rey - say yes to heaven

ariana grande - love me harder

the weeknd, lana del rey - stargirl interlude

farmer’s!daughter!reader

lady a - just a kiss

warrant - cherry pie

chris isaak - wicked game

the animals - house of the rising sun

tom petty and the heartbreakers - mary jane’s last dance

latina!kook!reader:

romeo santos - eres mía

selena - i could fall in love

kali uchis, jt, el alfa - muñekita

aventura, judy santos - obsesion

kali uchis, karol g - labios mordidos

bitchy!kook!reader:

beyoncé - partition

mariah carey - obsessed

lana del rey, tommy genesis - peppers

ariana grande, lil wayne - let me love you

the weeknd, jennie, lily-rose depp - one of the girls

bitchy!pogue!reader:

jt - okay

flo milli - never lose me

stunna girl - pretty privilege

stunna girl, jt - like dat remix

megan thee stallion - cocky af

sheep!reader:

the little dippers - forever

the ronettes - be my baby

barbara lewis - baby, i’m yours

the excellents - coney island baby

elvis presley - crying in the chapel

[rottenpumpkin13]

How do ASGZC react to rain? Like, gtting caught in it etc. Or thunder? Do they like its sound? To watch the lightning? Are they scared of it? (Do they comfort each other if the other is scared)

Angeal, the "I LOVE EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING" type: He thrives in the rain. He's moisturized, happy and flourishing. You will catch him enjoying what mother nature has offered by standing out in the rain, feeling it on his skin, washing his face, and enjoying the weather.

Genesis, the "I HATE EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING" type: The man is not opposed to the comfort of reading indoors while it's raining and thundering outside. But getting caught in it? A nightmare. He didn't bring an umbrella, so now his coat is wet, and his hair is ruined, and he won't photograph well, and HE'S COLD. An utter nightmare.

Zack, the "PUDDLES ARE MEANT TO BE JUMPED IN" type: The only thing he hates about being caught in the rain is the damage done to his hair, because other than that, he loves it. You'll catch him jumping in muddy puddles, kicking water at his friends, and trying to get everyone to play rain tag. The downside is that if it rains for longer than a day, Zack's mood starts to spiral.

Cloud, the "Eh, could be worse" type: Unbothered by the rain. It's just some wet weather, and he's already used to the cold, though he prefers staying inside. Nothing against getting caught in the rain, it's just that he hates how his hair looks when it's wet. That being said, he will slap Zack's hand if he tries to pull his hood off.

Sephiroth, the " :) This is fine" type: Loves the rain and actually enjoys being caught in it. Feeling the droplets on his skin reminds him that there’s so much more to the planet than Midgar’s dreadful, dry weather. When it does rain in Midgar, he likes to go on walks, but he’s very cautious about lightning and ensures his friends are being safe during storms, like forcing Genesis out of the shower and having Zack unplug all his devices. He’s just not a fan of thunder. While all of them have sharp ears, Sephiroth is particularly sensitive to it, which makes him uneasy. He prefers to stay indoors during thunderstorms, using headphones to block out the noise or finding other distractions to keep his mind off it.

★ Genesis already knows the drill. He's curled up in his own apartment when it's raining and thundering outside—a book in one hand and fingers gently carding through Sephiroth's hair with the other. Sephiroth is wearing headphones because Genesis makes him listen to his entire playlist just to keep his mind occupied.

Sephiroth also has a notepad with songs written down next to the amount of starts he gives them.

Genesis looks up from his book briefly as Sephiroth furiously jots something down.

Genesis: You gave the opening song of the latest Loveless musical three stars?

*Sephiroth nods*

Genesis: You do know I helped compose that one, right?

Sephiroth: Forgive me.

*Sephiroth writes something down*

Genesis: TWO STARS?

[rustbeltjessie]

Melissa Kirsch, from “A Playlist to Remember”

[text ID: “I am putting the finishing touches on my Summer 2024 playlist. This isn’t a collection of the summer’s hottest hits, although Chappell Roan and Charli XCX did make it on there. It’s a mix of the songs that I’ve been listening to this summer, regardless of when they came out — more Barack Obama than Billboard.

I’ve been curating this playlist all summer, adding to it whenever I notice there’s a song or an album that I’ve been listening to again and again such that it’s becoming part of my life soundtrack. My Summer 2024 playlist is not meant to be listened to during the Summer of 2024. It’s for the Winter of 2024, or some far-off day in 2035, when I want to evoke this period of time. This period of time when I rediscovered Genesis and became convinced that their 1983 song “That’s All” might be the best song ever written. When I spent an entire month listening to only “Worth It” by Raye and “You’ll Accomp’ny Me” by Bob Seger until I knew every lyric and drumbeat and guitar riff by heart.

When I hear these songs in the future, they’ll trigger memories from this summer. I’ll be back by the lake where a duck walked right out of the water and stood by my beach chair. I’ll be sitting on the screened-in porch drinking iced coffee while the rain blows in. By making a playlist of the season, I’m delineating a chapter of my life. I’m engineering a mechanism to induce nostalgia in the future.

This dividing of life into chapters is something I’ve become more deliberate about doing as I’ve gotten older. I don’t want one season to just bleed into the next, the days losing their distinctness, vivid experiences fading as they recede into memory. Anything that can create order out of the accumulation of life lived seems useful. Sometimes I’ll just go around and take photos of my apartment so that I’ll have a record of how it looked in this moment in time: the plants and the bedsheets and the clothes piled on the chair. They’re not photos I want to look at now, but 20 years from now when I’ve forgotten about these details that are mundane but so essential to my daily life.”]

[stvlti]

love is the knife in your hand | a Dune fanmix

I finally put all my songs for FeydPaul (derogatory) onto a playlist. This started out as a shitpost which may explain some of the wack song choices. All bangers though, promise

► TRACKS

01. Gimme What I Want - Miley Cyrus /// 02. SIMP - Full Tac, Lil Mariko & Rico Nasty /// 03. Dictator - REI AMI /// 04. I Can See You - Taylor Swift /// 05. Hardcore Romance - Beach Weather /// 06. Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode /// 07. Burn the Witch - PVRIS, Tommy Genesis & Alice Longyu Gao /// 08. House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls - The Weeknd /// 09. ecstacy - SUICIDAL-IDOL /// 10. Tennessee - Kevin Abstract & Lil Nas X /// 11. Beggin' (cover) - Måneskin /// 12. Kiss With A Fist - Florence + The Machine /// 13. Matador - Luvcat /// 14. I Come With Knives (Acoustic) - IAMX /// 15. Bells in Santa Fe - Halsey /// 16. Blood in the Cut - K.Flay /// 17. Trouble (Stripped) - Halsey /// 18. Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey.

Tracklist last updated on 14 Nov 2024.

► META

I wasn't going to add a write-up to this one – it was supposed to be an ironic playlist – but then I couldn't resist coming back to add better and better song choices to the tracklist. It deserves a short explanation now, at the very least.

The tl;dr of it is that I was inspired by this fic and this fic and this fic. The different interpretations and dynamics of Feyd/Paul's relationship shown in those fics form the cornerstones for the relationships portrayed in these songs.

Some of these dynamics may seem contradictory to each other. That is by design. Many of the songs in this playlist are meant to go both ways: depending on your interpretation of Feyd's character and your specific flavour of canon divergence (which lbr is where 90% of FeydPaul scenarios play out), you could justifiably swap the dominant / submissive voices in the song lyrics between Feyd and Paul. Take "Dictator" by REI AMI for example:

The front part of the song is dominated by, well, a dominant persona:

I am not your queen, I'm your dictator

Bend the fucking knee, yeah bitch that was an order

Whatcha say to me? Huh? Bitch speak louder

You know I reign supreme, nah, you can't imitate her

The song takes a 180° turn in the back half, switching up the beat, the tempo, the instrumentation, the cadence; going from rap verses to singing; and going from braggadocio to a vulnerable confession in its lyrics. This forms, for all intents and purposes, a second distinct "voice":

You're so mean I'm scared to say "I wanna leave"

Cause every time I try, I get a tighter leash

You never know

Everything I do when I'm feeling low

Always about you, that's the way it goes

The way it goes, just the way it goes

Cold, why you gotta treat me so cold?

You say you love me but I don't know, don't know

The original song intends for both voices to reflect 2 sides of the same speaker, which could also work in the case of Paul (the first voice being the strongman leader he presents himself as in front of his followers, but also the dom persona he takes on to exploit Feyd's vulnerabilities in the bedroom; the second voice being the insecurities he has in his feelings for Feyd, which he can admit only to himself). But these 2 voices also work well as a dialogue between Paul and Feyd: Paul as the dominant voice and Feyd as the submissive, plaintive one, in a Feyd Lives AU / any AU where Paul holds all the bargaining chips; or Feyd as the dominant voice and Paul as the submissive, confessional one, in a Feyd wins the duel / Paul is captured by the Harkonnens AU. Ymmv.

There are a few songs where it only fits a specific interpretation of the dynamic though. The more fics I read, the more I think about the political positioning either of the boys take up in canon, the more obvious it is that any way you slice it, Feyd is at a disadvantage. He doesn't have Paul's prescience or the Voice, among other Bene Gesserit training, to say nothing about his Mentat abilities. (This is excluding the AUs that assume Feyd, being another prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach bloodline, has some level of prescient abilities akin to Paul's.) This is true even before Paul consumed the Water of Life and gained full access to his ancestral memories, and once he unlocked the Other Memory, Feyd is simply no match for him. So tracks like "Matador" and "Bells in Santa Fe" work better if you think of them as speaking from Feyd's POV:

Your cape is crimson

And you're waving it, snarling

The air is full of danger

I only wanted to put on a little skirt, a little show for you

...

I came crawling in on all fours

Knocking at your door, knocking at your door

I don't wanna bleed anymore

I just wanted love, but you wanted gore

You're my matador

While Feyd is the gladiator with a number of wins in the Geidi Prime arena under his belt, Paul is named after his grandfather who fought bulls for fun. Feyd is a Harkonnen, which is etymologically related to the "härka", Finnish for the bull. When they meet each other blade for blade, Paul is the metaphorical matador to Feyd's bull, not the other way around.

I'm also a fan of simp!Feyd, which is how we ended up with Lil Mariko & Rico Nasty on the track list (lol). But on a more serious note, I like my Feyd softer and besotted with Paul, with or without the context of Paul as Emperor ordering Feyd around. In that light, it's obvious who would be the one to come crawling, begging for love from the other man.

Leaving through the door without a word

You won't even notice, little bird

Better off dead so I reckon I'm headed to hell instead

So don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait

It's not a happy ending

...

But, Jesus, you've got better lips than Judas

I could keep your bed warm, otherwise I'm useless

I don't really mean it, 'cause who the fuck would choose this?

Self loathing hours with Feyd lmao. I don't believe Feyd is capable of shame, but he bested Rabban in currying favours with the Baron and securing the na-Baron title. He must have a mind for politicking, and in a Feyd Lives AU, he would know full well that he is only useful to Paul's empire insofar as he amuses him and keeps his bed warm. It also really only makes sense for Feyd to call Paul "little bird" and not the other way around, seeing as Paul is the one who brings the Atreides hawk symbol to their union.

Speaking of union, I went back and forth on the inclusion of the Lana Del Rey track until I remembered that she wears a wedding dress in the music video. I've never paired "Ultraviolence" with my ships, not even for my most fucked up faves, for mainly 2 reasons: (1) I don't like to romanticise the domestic abuse detailed in the original context of that lyric. I prefer a dynamic where both parties retain a degree of control and reciprocity in the fucked up shit they do to each other. But in the case of FeydPaul the pain kinks just write themselves, and they would be fully reciprocal. I can see Feyd being the masochist to Paul's more violent tendencies as much as I can see Feyd enacting his learned sadism onto Paul. They would both enjoy it. Also, as every shipper knows, in another life these two would've been betrothed to each other according to the Bene Gesserits' breeding programme.

Heaven is on earth

I will do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

It's literally a wedding song!

(2) I never included "Ultraviolence" in my ship playlists before because the lyrics are kinda cringe. "tears of gold like lemonade"? really? But then again, FeydPaul is largely a Romeo & Juliet type of pairing - they're star-crossed, they're madly in love, and they're teenagers! They would be the type to make cringey promises to each other.

[minkshame]

I did want to reshare the SPARE CHANGES PLAYLIST complete with tracklist and key lyrics... under the cut

SECTION 1 (TORD):

Half a World Away (R.E.M.) - My hand's tired, my heart aches / I'm half a world away

Leaving New York (R.E.M.) - You might have laughed if I told you (it's pulling me apart)

Dirty Imbecile (The Happy Fits) - When my heart starts beating, lungs stop breathing / All my fibers say to run away

Don't be Seen with Me (Oppenheimer Analysis) - I kept things under strict control / Resisted all diversion

How to Disappear Completely (Radiohead) - That there, that's not me

You've Got to Hide Your Love Away (The Beatles) - I can see them laugh at me, and I hear them say / Hey, you've got to hide your love away

Heart in a Cage (The Strokes) - See I'm stuck in a city, but I belong in a field

Back to the Old House (The Smiths) - Cause I never even told you / Oh and I meant to

Promise (Laufey) - And I should get a cigarette / For how much restraint

No Time to Explain (Good Kid) - It's been a while I've been out on my own / I'm in denial about living life alone

SECTION 2 (EDD):

I Guess He'd Rather be in Colorado (John Denver) - I guess he'd rather work / Out where the only thing you earn is what you spend

Give you My Lovin (Mazzy Star) - Cause you see, rain reminds me of you / And everything has turned to you

Hopelessly Devoted to You (Olivia Newton-John) - I know I'm just a fool who's willing / To sit around and wait for you

I Don't Wanna Be Okay Without You (Charlie Burg) - And I can hear so clearly all the words I wish I'd said / You're stuck in my head

Mamma Mia (Austin Weber) - Yeah, I've been brokenhearted / Blue since the day we parted / Why why did I ever let you go?

Livin' With a Heartache (The Beach Boys) - I'm no good alone, you know-a everyone sees / That you left me alone with nothin' but a heartache

Oh Love (Delaney Bailey) - And I don't want to turn back time anymore / But I do miss when I thought that I was loved

Duvet (bôa) - But you know that it means so much / And you don't even feel a thing

I want you (Mitski) - We're starting over / And I love you darling

SECTION 3 (GENERAL):

The Less I Know The Better (Tame Impala) - I was doing fine without ya / til I saw your eyes turn away from mine

Pork Soda (Glass Animals) - Why can’t we laugh now like we did then? / How come I see you and ache instead?

Spare Hearts (Exit Mouse) - I know you’re afraid / Of making a big mistake / But you’re just what I need / Spare me the fear

Les maudits mots d'amour (Le rouge et le Noir) - Mais dans l'ivresse de tes bras / Tout le reste vole en éclat, / Vole en éclat.

SECTION 4 (LOW POINT):

If I can't be yours (Loren & Mash) - I realize / We're not the same / And it's making me sad / Cause we can't fulfill our dreams in this life

Memento Mori (Red Vox) - Could it be, the presence of memory / Is all we are, all we'll ever be?

I Know It’s Over (The Smiths) - And it never really began / But in my heart it was so real

Sparks (Coldplay) - My Heart is yours / It's you that I hold on to

Turtles All The Way Down (Sammy Copley)- And I’m aware / That it’s not fair / To bring you here then send you on your way / You had so much to say / And to ask

Door (I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME) - If I'm out of line / Just show me the door / I promise you I / Won't come here no more

SECTION 5 (HAPPY ENDING):

Scary Love (The Neighborhood) - No one has ever cared for me / as much a you do

It's Been a Long Long Time (Harry James) - You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you / Or how empty they all seemed without you

Those Eyes (New West) - I close my eyes and all I see is you / And the small things you do

Heart to Heart (Mac Demarco) - To all the days we were together / To all the time we played apart / In each other's lives

Another Believer (Rufus Wainwright) - And give me just one more chance, one more glance

Home (Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros) - Man oh man you're my best friend / I scream it to the nothingness

Genesis (Jourma Kaukonen) - And there I found myself with you / When breathing felt like something new, new / Along with you

[sol-draws-sometimes]

shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals <3

Me: Why don’t people send me asks

Also me: Takes weeks to respond cause I can’t answer a question normally

Okay here’s the thing, I don’t really listen to playlists and the only one I do is a shuffle playlist I have(tho I’m pretty proud of it). What I normally do is pick a song and go to radio, or go to my likes and press one of the genere thingys

However I think I’ll do 2 things, show off my shuffle playlist(since I actually do use it a lot), and then shuffle my liked songs NOT w/out any categories for full chaos. Actually I also have a shuffle playlist I did for Spanish music, but that one’s more recent and hasn’t gotten that much use so I won’t do the shuffle thingy.

Anyway this my oldies shuffle playlist:

It’s over a day’s worth of music, cause it’s meant to be shuffled(full disclosure started adding a shit ton of songs before the shuffle because I wanted to make sure it was accurate to my taste and there was a lot of music I added to my likes before making the playlist so they were missing(big chunks of abba,Fleetwood mac,queens, EWF, ELO, etc.) While the playlist is inspired by dad, and so is my taste in oldies music(actually a mix of him and my older sis), there’s stuff on there that I like that he doesn’t( stuff like Simon and Garfunkle and Elton John). It’s mostly 70s, but I’d say it’s 60s-80s. Also it’s English music, so no city pop or older hispanic music like Jeanette(most of my older spanish music is 90s anyway).

Anway these were the first 5 songs

1. At The Rainbows End- The Osmonds

2. Unercover Angel- Alan O’Day

3. Lady in Red- Chris Burgh

4. That’s All- Genesis

5. Wouldn’t it be Nice- Beach Boys

Also screenshotted 5 more and I think these are more indicative of my tastes in oldies(it’s missing a bit of my classic rock but it’s not like that’s what I listen to the most)

6. Roxanne- The Police

7. Oh Daddy- Fleetwood Mac

8. I’m Gonna Be(500 miles)- The Proclaimers (ngl got jumpscared with this one)

9. Wild Word- Ysuf/Cat Stevens

10. Fernando- Abba

Fun fact: Most of Rumors is on the playlist and the whole Xanadu Soundtrack is on there! I’d say may fav artists from the 70s would be ELO and ABBA, tho EWF was my fav band as a kid so that’s still nostalgic to me. Also Doobie Brothers are pretty good! Oh and Hall and Oats! On the more rock rock side of things, I’d say Aerosmith is the one know the most. Or Kansas, I think I like them more idk. I mostly listen to soft rock.

OKAY TIME FOR CHAOS SHUFFLE TIME

1. Sex w/ a Ghost—Teddy Hyde(I think this is more of my sister song?, tho it’s not bad song)

2. Esto les Digo— Kiney Lange, performed by Messiah College Concert Choir (yes this is a choir song)

3. Rata De Dos Patas—Paquita La Del Barrio

4. マイ・ボーイ(My Boy)- Lisa Ono (The title is Japanese but the song is in English)

5. Shun-ran— John (THIS IS IN JAPANESE, specifically vocaloid)

Bonus 6 incase 1 wasn’t me

6. L-O-V-E—Nat King Cole

Honestly, this is actually a good mix of the music I listen to, indie/soft, spanish, and j-pop, and oldies it’s just missing musical theater(also I listen to more early 2000s latino music). Also I don’t really listen to choir/classical music all the time but I do LOVE singing it so sometimes I will try to find new choir songs. Tbh, most playlist on Spotify lowkey suck and have very same-y repertoire, the best playlists I’ve found are Choir Classic-Spotify(a bit same-y but it is the classics™), Choir music that makes me crumb(great variety! I recommend this one the most), and I think Choir songs me that give me chills is also pretty good and it has more musical theater on it (THOUGH IT’S MISSING NORTE DAME).

Okay, I’m done yapping

[artwithoutblood]

i did publish a thing for patreon [that i dont use anymore] that was supposed to be a sex game about dorian and erebus at a christmas party but they just went to erebus's office and chatted because i cant write sex

I thought it’d be more like Dorian reeling around obnoxiously hitting on the few colleagues he doesn’t dislike and trying to dance on things not meant for the purpose. Trying to swing around the poles of the floor lamps.

His hat is gone. Erebus is chasing him and growing increasingly agitated because Dorian has stolen Erebus’ collar chain and is wearing it around his head

He basically would. Maybe not the pole part but the rest I could see.

I'm using this below to paste the thing I wrote. It wasn't finished.

a few familiar faces. a few faces that blend in with one another. erebus is one of them, and he certainly doesn't want to be there. but it's rude to live with two demons who are organizing a party and not join in on the festivities.

aeron doesn't like to host parties. at their own events, they sit in a corner, legs crossed with a cold glass of water in one hand. their eyes gaze emptily into the crowds, consciousness scanning faces and bodies that are a million miles away.

genesis always has to beg them. dissonance loves the lights, the music, the celebration. he's grown to love christmas because of his time with his children over the years. "people in the human world get together and have holiday parties! they drink n' dance n' wear stupid outfits! they even do it at work! ain't that crazy, aeron? we've gotta host one. please? we can do it in the gallery!"

delusion agrees, as long as it's far away from any of the breakable art. they settle on a banquet hall, used often for receptions or special exhibits. aeron decorates with colorful lights and decorative pine needles. genesis caters food and puts together the perfect playlist of classical piano and ambient drones.

erebus never liked fancy suits. sure, his usual attire was regal, elegant, fit for an archivist who spent centuries combing through books. but the suit that scarlet had crafted for him was far beyond his usual dress.

"i had made this for your predicessor," she had explained to him when he begrudgedly came to pick it up, "but since he's…gone, i thought i'd modify this for you. to fit you better, y'know."

delirium always hated being compared to dreams. he just had to swallow it.

the suit was beautiful, emblazened with appliques of snakes, ancient words, and images of the sun. the brooches on each collar were handcrafted from celestial silver, meant for the demon of dreams and repurposed for erebus's small stature. beautiful shades of green and black and gray, matched against silver jewelry.

familiar faces pass by erebus as he stood near a row of paintings, away from the drink tables and towards a corner's emptiness. diana handed erebus a glass of water and told him to call her over if he needed anything. graves staring with empty eyes, empty words, and a small platter of cake in his hand. aeron runs their fingers through his hair and thanks him for coming. xinyue talks him down from his anxiety by filling his head with thoughts of the next few days and what work erebus can do once the party is over. that puts his mind at ease.

he treats himself to small, strawberry tarts, seated in his own corner. most attendees ignore him. and that's just how he likes it, sitting as quiet as one of the corpse statues that line some of the halls outside of this cheerful place.

erebus has always been used to eyes on him. he assumes aeron is always spying, even if delusion isn't doing it actively.

but tonight is different. erebus looks up, finds aeron in the crowd, and breathes a sigh of confusion when he realizes the painter has their full attention on a man that erebus has never seen before.

who's looking at him then? he scans the area over and over, puts down his dish and stands up to do so. sweat drips delicately down his forehead. erebus never thought he'd miss the prying eyes of delusion, replaced by something foreign to him.

all erebus had to do was look right in front of him. across the long hall is another man, adorned in similar glasses and a muzzle over his face, leaning against a bookshelf and swirling a fruity drink in his hand. he presses the straw through the bars of his muzzle and to his lips, stealing another glance at erebus.

he has met dorian a few times in the past. librarians of different fields come to know each other, share their knowledge. dorian just barely leaves his domain, deep in the circles. he occasionally visits the gallery to admire aeron's newest handiwork. the two of them exchange art for knowledge, sometimes vice versa. dorian has joined them for dinner before, but all that heresy does is sit patiently, drinking tea and listening patiently to whatever comes from delusion's mouth.

they lock eyes for a few moments before dorian breaks it, closing them to indulge himself deeper in his tea. what does heresy want? erebus isn't sure.

but he sighs. he knows he has to do the hard work of reaching out.

erebus stands in front of dorian, arms crossed, foot tapping gently against the floor. dorian doesn't notice him - on purpose, of course - waiting for delirium to speak for himself. erebus sighs, defeated.

"are you going to explain yourself?" he asks, his brows furrowed.

dorian pushes the bridge of his glasses further up his nose. "hm, explain what?"

"you've been staring at me from across the room for at least five minutes now. is there something on my face?"

"besides your pretty eyes, no."

erebus hasn't been able to blush in centuries, but he knew his ears would be burning red at that if he could.

dorian just laughs. "i'm teasing you, erebus. i've just been debating on whether or not i move to talk to you, but i was too absorbed in this drink…"

"that you were too lazy to move and walk over to me?"

"that's right."

but why talk to me?" erebus doesn't seem to understand why anyone would care for his presence at this party other than his own coworkers.

"a few reasons," dorian places his drink on a nearby table. "first, you're the only person here who looks just about as lonely as i."

"you don't have people to talk to, dorian? you're important. you're one of the most important people here, i'd say."

"you know i'd say the same about you, head archivist."

"erebus. just call me by my name." he clasps his hands together, gently squeezing his palms together.

"erebus." his name is heavy on dorian's lips, slow, said with a soft taste of pine in his voice.

"…you aren't pitying me right now, are you?" it's what erebus hates most.

"no…" dorian shakes his head. he eyes the exit next to him, where the lights grow dim and the music would dissolve into silence. "i can talk to anyone here whenever i'd like. but you are a rarity. even at archives receptions, you are holed up in your office or pretending to be busy so no one approaches you."

"you of all people should know how important our work is," erebus is frustrated, eyes darting away from dorian, hoping that someone will grab him by the arm and whisk him away from this obligation.

"i do. of course i do," dorian nods, "but…"

"but what?"

"is it wrong that i've wanted to get to know you? know you past the formalities of work?"

"heresy is a liar, you know. why should i believe you?"

"i'd like you to use my name too."

erebus swallows. his eyes land on aeron, who is in the middle of putting on a haphazard theatric performance of some horrible story that happened to them recently. aeron notices immediately and locks eyes, smiling, waving their left hand.

god, sometimes his roommate is so innocent.

"why, erebus, are you acting like i want to hurt you?" dorian is serious. he may have been teasing earlier, but his eyes are dark, lips now neutral as opposed to curled upright in his default smile. "is it because everyone else you've ever met has wanted to hurt you? or, at least, that's what you think is happening?"

erebus swallows hard. he looks through dorian, rather than at him.

"because…i'm not here to do that," dorian shakes his head. "especially not here, surrounded by people. in fact, i rather admire you and your commitment to your work. but even so…"

erebus can't bother to look at him right now.

"i can tell you want to talk about other kinds of things. you love your books, but you love other things. but you don't feel like you're worth it past what you're good at. i'm right, aren't i?"

delirium falls silent, his head to the floor, inhaling deep breaths despite no longer needing to use his fragile lungs. dorian does not break the silence between them. he waits for erebus to speak.

and erebus does. "but why does that matter to you? why do you care?"

"do i need to have a reason?"

erebus rubs the dark circles under his eyes.

dorian makes his intentions clear. "i'm asking if the two of us can exit this loud, crowded room. i want to sit down with you, alone, and i want to hear erebus talk. not the archivist, not delirium, but erebus."

erebus looks back up, locks eyes with dorian. "you want me alone?"

"so i can focus on all of you, yes."

delirium will admit he would much prefer to be pulled away from the loud noise and the heat of other bodies. erebus can already feel the weight lifting off his chest, only to be replaced with nearly equal weight, all from one person: dorian.

erebus gives in. "fine."

dorian smiles.

erebus leads dorian down the hall, and the music that encapsulated them starts to fade. he knocks every so often against the wood finishings of corners, of the frames of old paintings. dorian cocks his head in confusion.

"i have a door somewhere between here and my office," erebus explains. doors are like small portals. genesis hides dozens of them in their shared space, all so he can steal trinkets and food from the other two members. he steals erebus's teabags and areon's sewing supplies, but he gives nothing back in return.

eventually, an old painting of a boat, ravaged by a stubborn sea, glows blue with absolute light. a small door opens, and erebus bows, inviting dorian inside.

"can i get you something new to drink?" erebus asks, "i know you just had…what were you drinking?"

"a shirley temple," dorian responds. erebus's office is small, ornately decorated yet humble all in the same visage. it was much like erebus was, strung with books on every wall, with globes and keys and small vials of ink leaving the place in its own orderly disarray. erebus pulls the chair from behind the desk to the front, allowing dorian and erebus to sit on equal footing. "i'm alright. thank you."

erebus nods, makes himself a cup of green tea with jasmine, and sits down.

it takes a few minutes, a few spits of reassurance from dorian for erebus to talk. sometimes, his eyes never leave the swirling liquid inside his teacup. eventually, erebus unravels. he talks about his greenhouse and all the plants he's been growing inside. he talks about his collection of antiques from before his own demonhood, all related to the stars above. he talks about some novels he's read, not novels he's written.

erebus has never been very good at reading emotions.he checks dorian's eyes, his mouth (or what he can of it due to the muzzle), but dorian does not break eye contact once. he sits with full attention on erebus, only moving to settle deeper into his chair. there seem to be stars in his eyes, admiration circling those irises of his. erebus swallows, adjusts his glasses, continues.

does dorian like it? is this just a ploy to collect information on him? erebus didn't really care; his mouth were running faster than his brain was.

but the intense staring, mind swimming…it makes erebus anxious, after an hour or so of infodumping all over this man who was barely more than a stranger.

"am i…bothering you? you look disappointed in me."

dorian refuses to break eye contact (erebus's worst nightmare) as he reaches two of his fingers up to his face. they slide between the bars of his muzzle and swipe gently over his own black lips. "i'm not disappointed in you, erebus. not at all. i'm disappointed in myself."

"why is that?"

heresy stands, his intricately-embroidered coat unfurling with him, revealing shimmering spider lilies and camellias. he gently pushes his glasses further up his nose. erebus is cautious and takes a stand as well, moving his body away from the chair.

"dorian? is everything alright?" erebus asks, but he fears his question will fall on deaf ears.

erebus has always been shorter than dorian, but as dorian approaches him, those silver-plated high heels on his feet, erebus realizes the size difference much clearer. it doesn't take long for erebus to find his back to a wall, with dorian placing one arm next to erebus's head, preventing any escape.

"i'm just disappointed that…" dorian breathes a heavy sigh. any twinge of shame lies behind that muzzle and refuses to leak out. "…i can't kiss you right now."

erebus's eyes go wide. "i'm sorry…?"

in most situations, erebus would have fished a pair of scissors from his pocket and driven them straight into dorian's chest. two problems arose:

one: he doesn't have his scissors, because this wasn't his usual outfit. he must have left them in the pocket of his uniform.

two: he doesn't really…want to, no matter how much his voice swims in confusion.

they sit in silience, whose pressure never bursts or dwindles, and dorian stares with those stars still in his eyes.

erebus is the first to break the silence. "why?"

dorian does not answer at first. that makes erebus anxious.

"…please let me go."

dorian responds immediately. "i'm trying to find a way to explain this that would help you understand. if i tell you that i have no reason, you'll panic. if i tell you it's because you're beautiful, alluring even in your mystery, you'll deny it. if i sit in silence, contemplating an answer, your hands will shake, as they do now."

he locks his fingers with one of erebus's hands. delirium's limbs make small tremors. dorian remedies this by pressing his forehead against delirium's. erebus's eyes light up, confusion being sprinkled with…wonder? relief? he wasn't sure. all erebus knows is that someone is using his name, is holding him and singing him sweet praises that he's never heard in his life (this isn't true, erebus just was not receptive, but that barely matters when heresy pins you against a wall in your own office).

dorian's hand slides back to erebus's face, gently cupping his cheek, thumb running along his jawline. "if you're so anxious, i can stop, we can return to our conversation, and we can pretend this never happened."

erebus does not respond for a long, long while. his mind was swimming, trying to drown his own complex. dorian was, without a doubt, beautiful; something about his mismatched eyes, his black lips, his off-white skin, it was all beautiful. dorian makes himself irresistable just by his existence, and erebus was still trying to wrap his head around why dorian was interested in someone as boring, mean, and hard to obtain as erebus.

maybe the last part was it. it didn't matter now. the bird has caught the snake, right on his own grounds.

erebus raises a hand up to one of the long pieces of dorian's hair. the rest had been tied into a delicate bun and secured with silver hair accessories, save for two sections that trailed down to his chest. his eyes focused on the variations in colors of dorian's hair. peach, off-white cream, gray, strawberry blonde.

"is…everything alright, erebus?"

"pretty."

"what?"

"your hair is pretty."

dorian laughs. "you really think so?"

"yes."

"it used to be curly," dorian explains, "but i suppose the first death and the ash somehow flattened it. thankfully, it's still soft.

"i like it like this," and erebus brings the hair to his nose, inhaling the scent. dorian smells like patchouli and rose with a hint of vanilla.

heresy's ears light up with red, making the silver jewelry glow even brighter.

"for someone so touch-averse, i'm surprised you had the nerve to…sniff my hair?"

"i like nice-smelling things. it puts me at ease." erebus opens his eyes and looks back up at dorian, and the anxiety flushes back in.

"you're a little weird, don't you know that?"

"i…i'm sorry." erebus looks embarrassed.

"no, that's a good thing. i like that."

[audiofictionuk]

New Fiction Podcasts - 3rd February

Coastal Magic Audio Book Elves, Fairies and Dragons... at the beach! Every week, you'll hear a new short story set in the world of Coastal Magic, where monsters and magical creatures live side-by-side with humans in the little tourist town of Seaside. Sometimes, everybody gets along. Sometimes, somebody gets eaten. When that happens, they call the friendly folks at Coastal Magic Solutions - the only fairykind agency in the US that protects humans from magical monsters. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240106-02 RSS: https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/2284175.rss

The Nightmare Realm Audio Book Cross over into The Nightmare Realm and experience tales of terror and the supernatural that will haunt your dreams. The Nightmare Realm is an anthology horror series of narrated audio dramas. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240104-04 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/f0101634/podcast/rss

Ravens Vail Coven Podcast Audio Book Welcome to the Ravens Vail Coven. The Coven features short, independent stories with themes ranging from dark horror and fantasy to any other disturbing fiction. The Coven contains stories written outside the ongoing storyline of the Ravens Vasil universe. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240101-15 RSS: https://feed.podbean.com/ravensvailcoven/feed.xml

Fear Sound Audio Drama A horror audio drama show for people who like a good scare. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231229-06 RSS: https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/2294731.rss

Chance Die Audio RPG Temptation, Oklahoma offers many opportunities for folks to indulge in their darkest vices. Quinten, James, Atlas, and Dorothy have all arrived for their own reasons... but will they find what they desire? A live play podcast based on World of Darkness. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231229-07 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/ece28dc0/podcast/rss

The Adventures of Lilly and Oxe - A family DND experience Audio RPG One dad who is brand new to D&D and podcasting, attempts to make a DND podcast with his two kids. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231230-01 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/efcb5378/podcast/rss

Legends of Khampiohn: The Genesis Era Audio Drama Legends of Khampiohn: The Genesis Era is a non-profit DnD fan- based audio drama written by Brad J Taylor and D T Prater. It's inspired by the unpublished works of Ruechelle Hill, who poured love and details into her world. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240104-05 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/efe03270/podcast/rss

Consumed Audio Drama When struggling journalist Sarah Simmons finds herself stranded in an idyllic New Hampshire town, her unexpected visit turns into a nightmare. Steeped in history and filled with legends, the residents of Danville soon learn that the past is not always meant to be forgotten. Their lives will be forever changed, while the hope of a future without terror rests on the shoulders of a stranger who may hold the keys to the past. This is Consumed, a brand new story set in the same universe as the award-winning hit fiction podcast, Bridgewater. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240131-01 RSS: https://www.omnycontent.com/d/playlist/e73c998e-6e60-432f-8610-ae210140c5b1/c800d851-9bcf-443d-bad1-b0dc010dc0b2/9bdb6573-a2c0-497b-9c06-b0dc010f4a85/podcast.rss

The Sprouting Audio RPG An actual play Call of Cthulhu podcast, The Sprouting explores the eldritch horror of a plant apocalypse. In The Cradle, our humans attempt to survive in a world where mystical plants have taken over, eldritch bargains twist the fabric of reality and each has a goal they must see through to the end. Do you trust your senses, or do you trust each other? I guess you're about to find out. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240131-02 RSS: https://feeds.megaphone.fm/SBP6970569886

A Prophecy Of Incense And Snow Audio Drama Spellbound Fantasies presents A PROPHECY OF INCENSE AND SNOW: a fantasy romance about Atla–a young sorceress raised in seclusion in order to fulfill a prophecy that will save her realm–is visited by an ancient warlock. He tells her that her entire life has been a lie. The man she is destined to marry: evil. The man who might actually save her realm: complicated. And sexy. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240130-01 RSS: https://feeds.simplecast.com/1q1tiSan

ROAR för Eon! Audio RPG Välkommen till Rollspel Och Annat Roligt (ROAR) i Pod format! Detta är ROARs första Pod och det är en actual play podcast där ROAR Master Emil ska spelleda en liten grupp spelare genom Helmgast skapade Mundana och regelsystemet Eon IV! Vi ska ta oss an den tappra utmaningen att spela igenom äventyret: Sylfens Vrede, ett MASSIVT äventyr också av Helmgast! Det är en lättsam Pod som spelar ett väldigt avancerat system. Vi är inga skådespelare eller liknande, utan bara ett gäng vänner som vill spela rollspel och bjuda på en intressant och spännande resa genom världen Mundana. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240128-01 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/f165c2f4/podcast/rss

Empire on the Edge Audio Book In tonight's feature, we delve into the gripping tale of Ning Xi, a young heiress caught in a whirlwind of family tragedy and corporate intrigue. As she faces the daunting task of saving her family's empire from the brink of collapse, Ning Xi turns to Jiang Lü, a former high school acquaintance and now a formidable Wall Street tycoon. With her father's life hanging in the balance and her brother wrongfully imprisoned, Ning Xi's desperate bid for Jiang's assistance unfolds into a saga of betrayal, old flames, and high-stakes negotiation. Join us as we unravel this compelling story of resilience, manipulation, and the lengths one will go to protect their legacy. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240130-02 RSS: https://media.rss.com/empire-on-the-edge/feed.xml

Le meilleur pour la fin Audio Drama La mort au théâtre, étrange affaire, non? Qu’est ce qui pousse les grands auteurs, eux même souvent morts depuis des lustres, à tuer leurs personnages sur les planches? Et qu’est ce qui nous pousse nous spectateurs à assister à ce genre de représentation morbide? Une compagnie théâtrale tente de répondre à ces questions en montant la pièce “Le meilleur pour la fin” un florilège de toutes les façons de mourir au théâtre. Nous sommes au théâtre Henri Jeanson et nous écoutons une répétition… https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240130-03 RSS: https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/le-meilleur-pour-la-fin

Awakening Audio Book Embark on a suspenseful journey in "The Awakening" series as Amelia awakens in an underground nightmare, surrounded by uncertainty and fear. Join Amelia and her fellow captives as they uncover the secrets of their captors, harness their psychic abilities, and plot their daring escape from a labyrinth of horrors. Experience the growing camaraderie, the weight of captivity, and the flicker of hope that fuels their determination to defy the odds and regain their freedom. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240130-04 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/f1806618/podcast/rss

The Susie House Audio Drama A full-cast, Southern Gothic ghost story set in 1936. After falling on hard times, Honor, James, and their young son move into a rural town full of secrets -- many of them about her new home, The Susie House. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240127-01 RSS: https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/thesusiehouse

[gummybugg]

hello! i really like character making and character design :]

i'm wondering if there's anything in particular that inspires you. and who/what jumpstarted you into creating your own characters and stories

-🌈

(This one's gonna be a bit all over the place, sorry about that I got a bit excited)

So hi! I really love character creation, it's one of my favorite things to do :')

i'm wondering if there's anything in particular that inspires you

Music like the Beatles, ELO, Queen, Will Wood, indie, punk rock, and really whatever I get when I hit an interesting recommendation (I'm eclectic)

Video games: Persona series, Fallout, Hypnospace Outlaw, Undertale, Sally Face, umm also indie horror games are generally where it's at for me

Jojo's bizarre adventure, one punch man, neon genesis

I was a theater kid at some point and am inspired by Chicago, Cabaret, Cats, Rock of Ages, and Rocky Horror for their wackiness/vibes

Webtoons/comics: Paperteeth!, After Dark, I'm the Grim Reaper, Lovebot, Space Boy, Solid State, The Prince of Southland, Yuna and Kawachan, Electric Bones...

Besides media, I am inspired by people I interact with (which can help me build character relationships) and qualities I pull from the inside. Also, I have had a strong interest in psychology for a long time, so my stories are very character-centered. I also like throwing in a funny edge to most things I create because I don't like being serious 100% of the time. I like to experiment with irony a lot, as you do.

I'm inspired by ideas I wish people talked more about, what'd I liked to have seen as a child, untraditionally beautiful characters, wacky characters, and characters flaunting who they are because they're proud to be themselves. I love unfixable characters who learn to find worth, characters who are overly complex, characters who fall from grace, blah blah blah. Or sometimes I just write characters for fun and with no real motive, who gain a purpose later on by chance. But not all stories need lessons or purposes or morals or whatever. Some things are more fun when they're just existing because they can. I feel like my wip Crater City is like somewhere in between having a purpose and having none at all.

Other things that help inspire oc: drawing them with random art generators, scrapbooking their very own page, filling out oc interviews, participating in writeblr events/games, spending a whole day listening to their playlist, forcing myself to write one scene with them in it, pinterest-ing, creating a blog/journal/site about them, etc.

who/what jumpstarted you into creating your own characters and stories

I started writing as a small child and would create illustrated "stories" based on real events that happened in my life but lowkey exaggerate them because I was like 6, hehe. Or play with barbies or legos or whatever and that's its own thing right there. Then I moved on to big boy things like writing in notebooks about girls with horribly made up names that mysteriously resembled Disney princesses' names because I'm bad at naming things (see: my webkinz pet named "the blue whale").

I'm not sure what jumpstarted character creation for me, I guess it was always this ✨️💕thing inside me all along 💕✨️. I think it was because I was a quiet child and kept to myself, which meant a few friends and a lot of introspection at a young age. But I was/am inspired by things all around me. Things that make me feel nostalgic, bittersweet, or whatever other emotion that's hard for me to explain because emotions are weird for me.

As a child, I created ocs based on who I wanted to be more like. Ex: an outgoing hero with bold hair, a strong anti-hero with a bit of edge, an adventurous hero who easily befriends others, etc, etc.

As a teen, I created ocs fueled by spite ("I can make better ocs than half of you seasoned authors even if I'm just a kid") and also my knowledge of the dsm-5. I think I was inspired most by my trauma, so yeah, that'll do it to you. I still dig deep down for some inspo from my Deep Dark Past™, which has helped me understand myself and ocs better, who would have guessed? But this doesn't exempt me from research.

As an adult I am motivated to write because of the impending doom that we all die some day so I better wrap it up before something happens to me and I lose my ability to write by some chance I'm out of college and I have my whole life ahead of me and have no more boring essays tying me down :'DD

[unforestalledreturn-a]

💖 - What’s something you like about your muse?

🎼 - What’s your favorite song?

|| Questions for the mun! Status: Accepting!

💖 - What’s something you like about your muse?

// If we are speaking strict canon, I actually find the character of Genesis to be a little lacking. Especially prominent in the English translation, it felt to me that the writers heavily flip-flopped around the concept of whether he was meant to be an unapologetic villain (like Voldemort from the Harry Potter series) or a sympathetic villain (like Itachi from Naruto). Either could be incredibly compelling characters, but I feel the indecision really watered down his potential. Funny enough, it is that same potential that I like most about Genesis. Because he has incredibly contradicting narratives, I have the freedom to carve what I think makes most sense. I feel that by in large, Crisis Core as a game was meant to hype up the original characters like Cloud and Sephiroth, and did well to make Zack a relevant part of the story. But I feel some shortcuts were made in this hype to where characters like Angeal, Genesis, and Lazard were less fleshed out and more reactionary to whatever the plot needed to create this hype. All that said, I really and thoroughly enjoy marrying a canon that most fans come to dislike Genesis and present a narrative that does not take away from the original, but gives context and meaning that can make him more fleshed out and even likable (whether it be in the sense of 'love to hate' or 'love to love')

🎼 - What’s your favorite song?

// So, to make this very brief, I had quite the stifled upbringing. It was very religious, very limited to what was approved and what was not. So anything with rock, metal, swear words, crass themes, etc., were not allowed. If the music video had any sort of 'immodesty', kissing, or even implied sexual acts, drugs, or 'gay' activity, it was banned. And while most things were not explicitly banned, it was more of a whitelist situation rather than a blacklist, although the blacklist was as mentioned above. The whitelist were gospel hymns, so of them, sure I had 'favorites'. But I would never say gospel music was even remotely close to a favorite genre or a song. But since I left that religion some years ago, my music world has definitely opened up, although you could say I am always 'behind' the current trends. So, rather than a favorite song, I'll share my small but growing playlist of songs I just like. :) https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL300TsF82GTKGaW30Z-qIodZgwlyT_sgu&si=ka0HhO6_fNc-Up2m You will find it.. eclectic, some angst, some soft, and a bit all over the place. A lot of vocaloid tbh because I was a simp for one of them when I was a wee lass XD (yes I broke the rules to listen to them ono)

[rottenpumpkin13]

I'M SCREAMING and CRYING

"overgrown garden" by beetlebug to cc and post cc Genesis??

"I wonder if you'll leave me behind someday, among the wildflowers and the lilies sleeping by the way, but it's okay because I would do anything for you" as the chorus

describing how they're slowing drifting apart an not paying attention to him

"the thorns grew tighter everyday, round your ankles dripping red. you placed a crown of marigolds on my head and then you said as you tried to pull your bloody hands away: I'm never gonna leave you behind someday...because I love you and I would do anything, I would do anything, anything at all"

ending with "I wonder when you left me behind that day, sleeping beneath the willow withering away, if you were okay because I would do anything, I would do anything"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Dude this made me cry for real ;-; I'm adding it to my playlist!

Ok ok ok so song for song.

Mama by My Chemical Romance as a song for Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal and the Jenova project as a whole.

Mama, we're all full of lies

Mama, we're meant for the flies

And right now they're building a coffin your size

Mama, we're all full of lies

Well mother look what the war did to my legs and to my tongue.

You should have raised a baby girl

I should've been a better son

If you could coddle the infection

They can amputate at once

You should've been

I could have been a better son

And when we go don't blame us, yeah

We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah

You made us oh so famous;

We'll never let you go

She said, "You ain't no son of mine!"

For what you've done they're

Gonna find a place for you

And just you mind your manners when you go.

[raeloganthesonic06fangirl]

Sonic Ask: 💥

Metal Overlord has such a special place in my heart.

"Sonic Heroes" was my introduction into the 3D era of Sonic, having just had the original Genesis games, Knuckles Chaotix, and Creativity Studio up until that point. It would be my introduction to Shadow, Rouge, Omega, Cream and Big, and it left such an impression on me as a young teen as to what I liked as a good structure for a Sonic game as well.

Metal Sonic being revealed as the true mastermind, my first taste of a Crush 40 song, and the fact that I had spent literally three weeks trying to find out what "Play Last Story" meant, so I kept playing the four main stories on repeat trying to find a secret entry point before one of my besties told me that I needed to just scroll to the right on the menu and holy heck, I was stoked. 🤩

The full song of the fight is also why I have an actual physical Sonic OST copy for this game and not just some rip download or streaming playlist.

I absolutely love the concept, the design and gameplay of this fight. Metal's banter and the fast paced attacks makes this one of the best in the series and after playing SA1 and SA2 after this game eventually, I could see where the groundwork was set.

Also, I absolutely love Metal Sonic.

Of course, there's something to be said about Biolizard and the fun mechanics of Egg Dealer

If we're including the retro games, then Stardust Speedway too

[bibaybe]

Teen Wolf OC Masterlist

Teen Wolf

Grayson Bishop

age: 17

character type: side character

appearances: season 5 (minor), season 6 (main)

gender and pronouns: cis man, he/him

sexuality: bisexual

love interest: josh diaz, theo raeken

faceclaim: anthony turpel

series: running with the wolves

summary: part of the moonwood pack, led by sullivan lahey. younger brother of sullivan's girlfriend(tba). only human allowed with the pack due to his sister's influence. turned into a chimera in season 5 and later resurrected by theo raeken.

links: playlist / tag

James Lahey

age: 41

character type: side character

appearances: season 4 (minor), season 5 (main)

gender and pronouns: cis man, he/him

sexuality: straight

love interest: genesis bishop

faceclaim: tom hardy

series: running with the wolves

summary:n/a

links: playlist / tag

Jayda Barlowe

age: 16-18

character type: side character

appearances: season 2-6 (minor)

gender and pronouns: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: straight

love interest: n/a

faceclaim: skai jackson

series: running with the wolves

summary: tba

links: playlist / tag/ fic- runaway

Jian Zhao

age: 16

character type: side character

appearances: season 2 (minor), season 3 (main), season 4 (main), season 5 (minor), season 6 (minor)

gender and pronouns: cis man, he/him

sexuality: gay

love interest: isaac lahey

faceclaim: wang zi yi

series: running with the wolves

summary: Jian had grown up on stories of special people with abilities far beyond normal humans. People who could run faster than Olympians, who were more agile than gymnasts, who were clairvoyant, though he wouldn’t know what that meant until he was older. The Zouyu had been his heroes since he was young, but they were nothing but daydreams to him, no matter how much his grandmother said that they were real. That is, until the day he looked at Scott McCall in the hallway and all he was red, screaming in his head.  The moment shook him. But when Scott came to school the next day, suddenly ripped and amazing at lacrosse, Jian shook it off. Obviously, Scott was fine, right? Whatever he saw, it must have been his imagination. Over time though, these moments began to happen more and more, and soon enough he came to realize that his grandmother was right - the Zouyu were real. And his family were part of them.  Suddenly able to relate to his grandmother on another level, he began working with her to understand his visions. His sister may not have gotten the gift of clairvoyance, but she was certainly agile and fast enough that they could spar against each other evenly matched. And things were fine, for a while. Suddenly being known as the weird kid who likes to pop his nose into others’ business with annoyingly good advice is certainly a plus. That is, until Jian’s at a lacrosse game and looks at new girl, Willow Lahey, and sees her chained to the floor, red tinting the vision. And suddenly, his gift is no longer something fun but something that can effect real life.

links: tag / fic - runaway

Lisha Zhao

age: 15

character type: side character

appearances: season 3 (minor), season 4 (main), season 5 (minor), season 6 (main)

gender and pronouns: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: lesbian

love interest: willow lahey, hayden romero

faceclaim: peyton elizabeth lee

series: running with the wolves

summary: N/A

links: playlist / tag

Willow Lahey

age: 16

character type: main character

appearances: season 2-6 (main)

gender and pronouns: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: bisexual

love interest: lisha zhao, stiles stilinski

faceclaim: kiernan shipka

series: running with the wolves

summary:Abandoned by her father to the foster care system, Willow has spent her life dreaming for a family who would love her for who she is. The next twelve years are hell. That is, until she sneaks into her social worker’s office and discovers that, after all this time, she’s had family just a bus ride away. Determined to get out of the precarious situation she’s in, Willow runs away to Beacon Hills, eager to convince her uncle to take her in. Instead, she discovers her uncle has just been murdered and her cousin, Isaac, is the prime suspect. Now the police are asking questions, two boys who claim to be Isaac’s friend are hovering around her, and weird things are happening all around her. It doesn’t help that her social worker is livid and determined to take her back to the orphanage, leaving Willow fighting to stay in Beacon Hills while also trying to discover the truth behind her cousin’s mysterious disappearance.

links: playlist / tag / fic - runaway

Yùméi Zhao

age: 51

character type: side character

appearances: season 3-6 (minor)

gender and pronouns: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: lesbian

love interest: n/a

faceclaim: ming-na wen

series: running with the wolves

summary: Lisha and Jian's grandmother. A zouyu. Runs an antiques shop and employs Willow in later seasons.

links: playlist / tag

[jzontheazarian]

The Story Behind gab’s Breathtaking New Single ‘LINGER’

gab is an emerging R&B sensation, drawing inspiration from both contemporary artists like Victoria Monet and legends like Whitney Houston. Her soulful voice and captivating tunes have garnered our interest and we believe you should take notice too. She has a distinctive style that fuses her heritage and influences, producing music that appeals to listeners across genres and generations. We had the privilege to converse with the gifted singer about her background, her virtual music journey, the genesis of her song ‘Rear View Mirror’ and her latest single ‘Linger.’ Read on to discover more about this remarkable artist and her music.

Jzon Azari: We came across you thanks to your previous song ‘Rear View Mirror.’ What can you share with us about how the song came to be? gab: ‘REAR VIEW MIRROR’ started with a voice memo. I was trying to find nice chord progressions and when I found the one RVM uses, the verse melody came almost automatically. As for the lyrics, I was heavily inspired by the warning message on the side mirrors of cars — the one that says “Objects in mirrors are closer than they appear.” Something about that phrase sounded ominous and sounded like good inspiration.

What inspired you to pursue a career in R&B music? Growing up I have unknowingly been exposed to R&B. My mom loved listening to Whitney Houston, radio stations in the Philippines always played Mariah Carey, and I grew up at the time when Rihanna’s and Beyoncé’s music videos were always played on MTV. I think part of me was just naturally drawn to the instrumentation and raw, feelings-forward nature of R&B. It allowed me to explore the extent of my creativity and express my thoughts and ideas freely.

How would you describe your musical style and influences? Diverse. I used to describe my taste as messy because my playlists would often just be a mix of everything. Shuffling my liked songs can go from Tyler, the Creator to NIKI to ITZY.

I don’t think there is a singular way to describe my influences except that I listen to good music, and good music to me is often just honest songwriting and vocal expression (and a good bassline). Finding good songs inspires me to continue creating and cultivating my own, unique sound.

How does your Filipino background influence your musical identity and expression?In every way, shape, and form possible. Ever since I was a kid there would always be singing competitions of some sort on TV, even on live radio. I also grew up like every typical Filipino kid — there was a karaoke machine at almost every party and family gathering meant performing for my aunts and uncles in exchange for a crispy 20-peso bill, sometimes two. In a way, you were “forced” to find a talent you can share at some point when you’re Filipino.

The exposure to music was and is constantly there so I guess you can say the pursuit of a creative career felt like second nature.

How do you incorporate elements of your culture and heritage into your songs? I have quite a lot of unreleased songs written in our national language, Filipino. There are no certain release dates yet but I hope to share them soon.

I’ve also made sure to work with at least one local creative, whether it be with the song art or any other assets that I release with the song. Supporting fellow Filipino creatives is very important to me and I hope I can continue to do so as more and more people find my music. What are some of the challenges and opportunities you face as a female R&B singer in the industry? Being a female in the industry is already inherently difficult. We have to work twice as hard to “prove” that we are talented enough for the job. However, I am very thankful to be pursuing this career at a time when there is a community ready to provide very positive support for female Asian acts. This is a privilege I acknowledge and am grateful for as it makes it easier for artists like me to release music continuously. What are some of the challenges and benefits of being a Filipino R&B singer in the US market? My ethnicity is 100% my boon and my bane. I’m very proud to be a Filipino trying to take up space in the western R&B space but it is also very challenging to compete with those that have long been in the space.

Since a lot of my work and collaborations are also done virtually, it is much harder for me to come across opportunities that I would otherwise have more access to. Working through video calls and messages has been very good for me but I would love to get the opportunity to see my long-time collaborators in person someday. That being said though, I am very proud of the things I have achieved with my friends given our limitations and I’m excited to see where this journey takes us.

How do you connect with your Filipino fans and community through your music? It took a while for me to find my Filipino community because I worked on targeting the US market for a while, but when REAR VIEW MIRROR gained some traction on TikTok, I finally had the opportunity to connect with more listeners in the Philippines. I currently have a Discord and an Instagram group chat where we talk about basically anything and everything. They’re all very cool people and I appreciate all the love that they’ve been showing me. How do you deal with stereotypes and expectations as a Filipino female artist? Being a female Filipino artist, people often expect me to belt and sing with a very whole, rounded voice since it is the stereotype and the narrative the media has pushed for a while now. As someone with a voice on the softer side, I used to be very insecure about the way I sing. This is why I’m thankful for the likes of Reese Lansangan and Clara Benin — both Filipino artists — for breaking the diva stereotype attached to Filipino female artists. What are some of the themes and messages you want to convey through your songs? Almost all my songs are diary entries. I started writing when I was 15 and it was my creative outlet and self-expression. Many of the things I write are the typical musings of a young adult trying to navigate life. Not knowing what the next move is, the burdens of pursuing your passions, and the ups and downs of love and friendship. In a way my songs are my letters to those who find themselves in what I write, to remind them that they’re not alone. What are some of the social and political issues that you care about and address in your music? As an Asian woman, specifically a Filipina, I need to use my platform to champion the messages that benefit us as a whole. While I haven’t had the chance to address these things directly in my songs yet, I make an effort to talk about these issues and share relevant information through my social media accounts. How do you balance your personal and professional life as a singer? It’s difficult, quite frankly. I am currently studying architecture (and getting my degree next year!) which is a very time-consuming major. A lot of the work we do takes a lot of time before they are fully finished so balancing my time as a student and artist is a struggle. I’ve considered putting music on hold many times but it is one of the few things that keep me sane, which is quite ironic, so here I am. It’s all gonna pay off someday. I know it.

What are some of the goals and dreams you have for your future as an artist? Right now my goal is to find my place in the local music scene. I would love to do live performances and gigs whenever possible and collaborate with more local talents. As for long-term, bigger goals, there’s quite a lot. I want to create my own merch line, start a collective that will help independent artists and creatives, and go on tour. It would also be a dream come true to work with artists I look up to and be recognized by them in a way. A spot in the top 10 of major music charts would also be nice and of course, a Grammy. Big dreams but nothing is impossible. Who are some of the R&B singers you admire and look up to? I have so much respect for artists that play a huge part in the creation of their songs and the overall creative direction of their brands. As someone who writes all of her songs, I know firsthand how it can be such a process sometimes and I admire all the artists that seem to hit the mark every single time.

Victoria Monét and Kehlani are the ones I look up to a lot. As for local acts, I already mentioned them before but Reese Lansangan and Clara Benin have inspired me a lot.

How do you celebrate and honor your Filipino roots and traditions through your music? I am such a fan of local talent. There are so many talented and amazing creatives — graphic designers, illustrators, calligraphers, producers, audio engineers, social media creatives, the list goes on and on. Every time I release a song I try to work with at least one. I believe that there are enough opportunities for all of us and using your reach to help a fellow artist does not take away anything from you at all. After months of anticipation, fans can finally enjoy your new single ‘LINGER.’ How would you describe the sound and the message of this song? What inspired you to create this musical masterpiece? Before this song, all my releases have been a little angsty and a little sad. LINGER is definitely on the lover-girl side. Xoe, my producer, sent me the beat for this song back in 2021. In fact, he was ready to throw the beat away saying he’s sent it to multiple artists already, but nobody got back to him about it.

Well, this is where we ended up around two years later, with a song that’s quite the anthem for lovers and an equally good song to help you manifest your ideal relationship. As always, this song is a mixture of my experiences, book plots, and movie scenes.

I’d also like to give a quick shoutout to Brenno for completing the song with his guitar and bass, and to Canvos for being the best mentor slash consultant, constantly pushing me and wanting me to be at the top of my game. And of course, last but not least, thank you to Peter for making the most intricate, beautiful pieces of art that accompany my songs.

And to everyone who listens, like all my songs, I hope LINGER soundtracks the good moments of your life and gives you comfort when things feel a little heavy. Thank you for being here.

[bi-writes]

notorious: reboot — chapter eight  genesis

This is our genesis, and ours only; once we start this chapter, what will end it?

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 12.7k warnings: mature language and themes, mature sexual and nsfw content included in this chapter (oral fem!receiving, unprotected sexual content, overstimulation, cum play) series masterlist music playlist by mood, curated just for notorious

There were many things you could tell about a person from looking at their hands. They could be dirty or clean, adorned with jewels or nothing at all, nails painted or chipped or bare, cut or bruised or scratched or completely, utterly soft. Sometimes they wore wedding rings, sometimes they didn’t, sometimes they had ink circling around their fingers. Hands were interesting storytellers, and oftentimes you found yourself finding more about someone from the way their hands were kept rather than listening to them speak. Sometimes people lied. Their hands couldn’t lie, all they could do was simply be.  

It was so quiet here. You could barely see anything in the darkness, but there was a sliver of light coming from the candle in the far corner of the room. The wax had melted almost all the way, the wicker barely lit, but it was enough that you could still see clearly what was beside you, who was beside you.

Your head was propped up on a soft pillow, but Tom’s hand was beside it, palm flat against the bed, and you could hear his gentle breathing. You brought your hand up to trace Tom’s knuckles, which were slightly split. They had bled, you could tell that much, and there were yellow and purple bruises dotting the dry, cracked skin there. His nails were well groomed, but you could tell he picked at them because of how his cuticles were ripped a bit, the edges of his nails a bit rugged.

Hands of a killer. So why doesn’t it hurt when he touches me with them?

You turned his hand over, following the callous along his palms. Blistering, dry, and used, Tom’s hands were a reflection of the dirty business you both had chosen to run in. It didn’t matter where you were in this business, it took something from each and every being inside of it. You and Tom were young, but you had been thrust into a world of secrecy and anarchy where your worth was determined by nothing more than where you stood in a line of hundreds, blanketed by tradition, ritual, and kings without mercy.

You had seen too much, but it was enough that you were numb inside at times. Death did nothing to you any longer. Blood was nothing but a stain, and guns were just accessories. Judges, cops, and lawyers were the men and women on your payroll, and funding amateur killers was just a part of your work. Love was a luxury, children became heirs, and money was your lifeline. One mistake could cost you your head, one wrong move could dismantle your operations, and without a throne to sit on, there was no need for you except to bleed you dry of what you had and to leave you for the earth to swallow whole.

Daughters become enemies.

Only ruthless, cold individuals that were truly dead inside could sit on thrones made of bones. You had to be willing to do anything to put the crown on, and even then, it could slip right off of your head in a moment.  

Rivals become lovers.

You had never known anything else. You had never tried to be anything else. Your mother loved you, but she didn’t try and take you away from this life; she had thrust you into the world headfirst, and she made you who you were.  

Sweet faces become killers. She made you a killer.

You wondered who had made Tom. Staring at the soft tufts of curls on his head, you wondered who had taught him to hold a gun, to point it at his target, and to not hesitate pulling the trigger.

You wondered what kind of burdens he carried on those broad shoulders of his. You wondered what hid between the curves of his muscles, what truly defined the scars along his back, and what kind of blood had been spilled against those crackling knuckles of his. You wondered who had taken the light inside of the little boy he had once been and crushed it. All kings and queens had lights inside of them once, even you.

We lose them, and then we spend forever trying to find it inside of others because of what is broken inside of ourselves.

There was a map on his skin. From the tips of his fingers to his toes, Tom had a map. Scars and the occasional tattoo, indentations and uneven patches of skin, defined muscles that ached and stretched and breathed. Some people were meant to be kings, and Tom was one of them, but there was a part of you that wished that Tom had never seen the metal of a gun or the inside of someone’s body or the way life left someone’s body slow, then quickly all at once.  

I wish you never knew what it looked like when there were stars in their eyes, right before they saw a vast nothingness.

There were people inside of you, souls that wanted to be discovered, but you and Tom had buried them so deep that neither of you knew who they were anymore. Tom had mentioned once that he used to watch movies until his eyes were red from the glare of the television screen. He mentioned once that he had felt the vibrations from dancers on a stage, the echo of voices across the emptiness of a theatre, and he mentioned once that there had been light inside of him once when there were spotlights warming up that single spot reserved onstage.

Tom would never know that little boy. Tom would never see what that little boy could become, and he would never get to tell him that he was meant for so much more than this dirty, dirty business. There were songs inside of him, but he would never get to sing them, and for that, a part of you hated whoever had taught Tom to be who he was. They had robbed Tom of every good thing he could’ve been, and now here he was, with scars on his hands, cuts along his back, and a light inside of him that would never, ever be allowed to illuminate whatever soul was buried underneath all of the death and destruction he had built up for so long.

Boys become assassins, and girls become paper dolls.

You wondered if he would hate your mother for the same reasons.

You leaned over and kissed Tom’s forehead before slipping out of bed. You opened the door to your bedroom, going into the kitchen. You were at your apartment this time, and Tom had come with you that night, and he simply didn’t want to leave.

You and Tom had been through hell hours before, but there was something different between you now. There were no secrets between you, and now, it felt strange. For so long, you and Tom had been pretending, lying to each other and falling for each other at the same time.

One and the same.

It was still dark outside. The city lights glowed at night, so bright and awake even in the dead hours of night, and that was how it always was.

You noticed something by the door. There was a white envelope on the floor, as if someone had slipped it underneath the door to get it to you. You bent down and picked up the envelope, turning it over in your hands. The envelope was meant to be white, but it had yellowed from age, and it was dry and crinkly in your hands. There was no return address, just a scribbling on the back in handwriting you thought you recognized but couldn’t decipher.

my baby is all the back read.

You slipped your finger into the opening, ripping the envelope open. Inside was a letter, written on blank copy paper. It was written in scribbly black ink, smeared occasionally, as if it had been written in a rush. You looked around, to see if anyone was around, because it felt as if you were being watched. The apartment was quiet, and there was nothing around you.

You looked back down at the letter, opening it up all the way, smoothing out the folds.

To the only love I’ve ever known,

I don’t know when you’re going to be given this letter. I don’t know if you’ll ever receive it, but if I never write this, then there is a chance that you will never know the truth. I can’t leave this place knowing you might always be kept in the dark.

There is too much I’m going to miss. I tried to do right by you all these years, but now I fear perhaps I’ve just given your father the weapon he’s always needed. He has no ambition, none at all, to do right by his men. Your father is a coward, and he always will be. He takes advantage of even the most precious things in his life, and he has neglected you since the day you were born.

There is going to be a day when he needs you. There is going to be a day when your father will not be able to say no to you, and that day I fear more than anything else in this world, even death. I tried to give you the tools you would need to succeed, but I fear that my time has run out to finish the difficult job I started with you. I’m not finished. I want to keep doing more for you, but my time is running out, and even writing this letter is wasting what little I have left, but I need you to know the truth.

Your father will never understand what it takes to run this kingdom he’s built. I have tried for years to get him to listen to me, but anything I say, he ignores. One day, it’s going to get him killed, but that is the least of my worries. My worry is what comes after, what continues after your father is gone. As much as he wants to pretend it isn’t true, you are going to be the one sitting at the desk. You will be the one left when the dust settles.

I dreamed of being able to sit there myself. When I lived in New York, I was used to being the princess. After marrying your father, I had to get used to being what was left behind. My hatred for him grows every single day, and if I had it in me, I would be done with him. It would be him instead of me, but I’m not meant for those kinds of things. It isn’t in me, and I don’t think I’ve ever been meant for this kind of life. I hate myself for getting involved, and even more, I hate myself for bringing the most beautiful angel into this life.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did this to you. I should’ve left, I always knew I should’ve left. I should’ve taken the only good thing to ever happen to me and dragged her far, far away.

I planned on letting you live a normal life. Your father never wanted you to follow in his footsteps, and I planned on letting you grow and learn and go to college and live the normal life that I always dreamed for you, but you were my only hope. You were the only weapon I had against your father, and I’m sorry. What I did was selfish.

I made you like this because I wanted you to be better than him. I wanted you to be better than all of them. Everyone in this world is lonely, ugly on the inside and out, and incredibly stupid. They lack all the good qualities that soldiers should have, because that is what living in this hell is like. You will always be at war, and I wanted you to always have the tools to survive in the disgusting world that these men have built for us.

I needed you to be better.

Your father tonight is going to tell you that I left. You are going to find the drawers of my clothes empty, you are going to find most of my things gone, and you will never see me again. He’s going to tell you that I went far away, perhaps, maybe even to the fucking moon. Your father is going to tell you a lot of things tonight.

All of them will be lies.

Your father is going to kill me tonight, and I’m going to let him, because if I don’t, you will never become who I need you to be. I’m being selfish again. I fear I might hate him more than I love you.

Don’t trust him. Ever. Even if he seems like he is on your side. He will never learn until it’s too late, and by then, nothing will be able to save him. It’s you, and it will always be you, and I hope he dies knowing it.

He doesn’t deserve you. And he never has. He never will.

I love you more than anything in this world.

mama

You put the letter down slowly, running your hands through your tangled hair. Your hands were shaking a bit, and you felt like there was something stuck in your throat, making it hard to breathe.  

She made your bed. Now you have to lay in it.

You picked up the letter again and went into the bedroom. Tom was awake, sitting up against the headboard, an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“Was wondering where you went,” Tom said lowly, striking a match to light the cancer stick. You came towards the bed slowly, still holding the letter, and Tom finally looked at you, standing there with a strange look in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“This…this came. Someone slid it…u-under the door,” you said softly, putting the letter onto the bed. Tom switched the lamp on, and he picked up the paper, holding it in front of him. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and let out a slow breath, his eyes running over the page. The silence was killing you.

“You said your mum disappeared,” Tom said finally, tapping off a bit of ash.  

“That’s…that’s what my dad told me,” you whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s why I left New York. Why I left…Ri.”

It changed everything. It changed me.

“Your mum says otherwise,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Is this real? Do you believe this? I mean…who would just put this under the bloody door? How could this just appear on your doorstep? Timing is right suspicious, don’t you think?”

“It’s my mom’s handwriting, Tom, I’d know,” you said defiantly, taking the letter back. You folded it up again, putting it into the bedside drawer. You slid back into bed, scooting close to Tom. He put his arm around you, letting you lay your head on his chest. You were silent again, the room was silent again, and it was enough time for you to have a single tear falling down the length of your cheek, your whole body feeling cold all over.

“Your father’s a lying twat,” Tom scoffed, and you stared off into the distance.

“He killed…my mom,” you said weakly, and Tom stubbed the cigarette out, putting a hand to your head and kissing your forehead. It was tender, but it was not warm enough to stop the tears that followed quickly behind, dropping silently onto the pillow. “H-He killed her, Tommy.”

And she killed me.

You weren’t sure how to feel about the letter. Your father had told you your mother had left, that she was gone, and even though you knew that those kind of antics could never be that of your mother, you believed him, or at least you forced yourself to believe him.  

Because you weren’t ready to face any other alternative.

You had cried over her, mourned over her, and then you had let her go. Part of the coldness of your personality was trying to steel yourself from losing anyone else. You distanced yourself from Mariposa after, changing your number and refusing to go back, making it your mission to focus all of your pent-up anger and aggression and sadness to becoming whatever kind of heiress your father needed you to be.  

Nothing in that letter was really a surprise to you, but it felt like a slap on your face knowing it came from her. Your mother had truly seen through every single lie, and just like your father, she had used you to do her bidding. She made you feel like she was on your side because she needed you to be somebody for her. A secret weapon, a key hidden under a mat, an iron sword that had rusted over and been long forgotten. She had been waiting for the perfect moment to polish you clean, reveal you to the world, and she stepped face-first into death to do it.

She can call it whatever she likes. She can call me a savior, a soldier, a daughter. I suppose mothers use their daughters just the same; this business rubs off on even those we admire. On those that we think we love.

“He made plans with you, yeah?” Tom asked gently. You blinked, coming out of your thoughts. “Plans for Saturday night, didn’t he?”

You nodded slowly, “yes. We made plans for…how it would go, yes.”

Tom smacked his lips a bit, clenching his jaw. “You’re going to tell me every detail, y/n. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how small or insignificant you think it is. I have a feeling your father is going to fuck the both of us over. And we’re not letting that happen, yeah?”

Has it rubbed off on you, Tom?

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Okay.”

Will you use me just the same?

Tom moved your head, making you look at him.

“You and I, love,” he murmured, and you nodded again, putting your hands over his. You shared a tender kiss, and you pulled away with a smile on your face. The lack of distance made you warm all over. Tom knew everything. There was nothing black between you, nothing holding you both down. You had been so lost before, and there was an uncertainty that weighed inside of you. You weren’t sure how to deal with your father, to deal with whatever feelings had grown in you, and although you had worn a straight face, there had been nothing but panic in you.

There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. Tom had you, closer than he ever had you before, and you knew he wouldn’t let go. Tom was going to take care of you, and you had to trust that, because otherwise, you were as dead as you were the day before.

“You and I, Tommy,” you said softly, and skin against skin, you knew he had you, because you could feel the tenderness in his touch. There was nothing to fear anymore. There was nothing worry about.  

Because I am yours. And you are mine.

You met his eyes in the mirror. He looked incredibly handsome, freshly showered and smelling sweet, a beautiful suit on him. He was wearing black tonight to match you, and he ditched the tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt underneath, just enough to see a glimpse at the chain he was wearing. You remembered when you and Mariposa used to get ready like this, smiling at each other in the mirror, but now it was Tom, and he wasn’t shying away from checking you out. He was adjusting the watch around his wrist, his dark eyes running up and down your figure.

“You should close your mouth, baby,” you said softly as you smoothed out the front of your dress. “You’ll catch flies.”

Tom chuckled lowly, shaking his head, and you hiked up the skirt of your dress to slip your thigh holster on. He clenched his jaw at that, and he couldn’t help himself. He came close to you, pressed up against you from behind, and you bit back a smile as he smoothed a hand down your back, over the curve of your hips.

God, who said she was allowed to look like this?

“Jesus, fuck,” Tom muttered, watching you secure the gun underneath your dress. “Couldn’t get any more beautiful, and then you pull shit like this.”

“Shut up,” you laughed a bit, putting your dress back down, much to his dismay. “Now you’re just saying things because you want something.”

The word was in the air, but Tom pretended not to see it. He liked the chase. He had never had to chase anyone before, but it was fun. Having you so close yet so far away made him ache all over, but the look in your eyes told him it would be worth it.

Tom grinned at you in the mirror, “of course not, love…never. I’m simply commenting on how absolutely mad you drive me when you do things like this. If it happens to turn you on…” Your smile broke out as he kissed the side of your neck, “perhaps it’s just a bonus.”

You let Tom tilt your head to the side more, let him kiss the skin there. There was something possessive about it, and after a few minutes of wet teasing with hungry kisses, you pushed Tom off of you and grabbed your jacket, laughing to yourself.

Tom guided you to the elevator of your building, and he kept a hand on the small of your back as you walked. He always kept a hand on you now, a sweet, small detail that you appreciated. You both got into the back of the car he ordered, and while you sat on opposite ends, he had a hand on your knee as he looked out the window.

You remembered meeting Tom here. As he helped you out of the car, the familiar doorman gave you and Tom a nod as you passed the line. Tom went for your hand this time, and you looked down in surprise as he intertwined your fingers. You bit back the smile on your face as he led you by the hand. His touch was warm. You liked this, more than you thought you would.

People had always talked about you being Tom’s girl, but the label always made you spit at them. You had a name, and you expected them to use it. You didn’t need to be behind a man for it to mean something, for you to matter, and you made that clear from the beginning. Tom liked that, he knew from the start that he adored your independence. It was attractive and fresh, and for once, a woman with personality had stood up to him, and she was absolutely full of fire. It was one of the reasons he fell for you so fast and so hard. You were beautiful like that, always steady on two feet.

A queen, Tom had thought to himself. A righteous queen, and her eyes are hungry, just like mine.

You noticed Mariposa wasn’t at the table. Harrison was sitting there, and he looked incomplete without Mariposa beside him. He looked on edge, staring out into nothing, and he was bouncing one of his legs impatiently.  

“Harrison,” you greeted him as Tom shooed his brothers to the side for room to sit in the booth. “Where’s Ri?”

Harrison sniffed a bit, shaking his head, “don’t know. She was supposed to be here a few minutes ago,” is all he answered. You let go of Tom’s hand, and at that, his head turned to you.

“I’m going to go take a lap, yeah?” You assured them. Tom tugged you back with a hand on your wrist, and you were surprised when he put both hands on your face, capturing you in a kiss that caught you off guard. The boys at the table shifted nervously as you kissed, even Tom’s men watching intently as you embraced without shame. Eyes closed, hands in your hair, Tom had you in just a few tender kisses, lowering yourself to sit beside him to give him a better angle. Harrison smirked a bit as he watched, shaking his head as Tom licked over your bottom lip dramatically. Tom pulled away casually to light a cigarette, letting you go finally, and you sat there dumbfounded for a moment, taking deep breaths as you fought the smiling growing on you.

“Be careful,” is all he said, his face unbothered as he reached over and took a sip of Harrison’s drink. You stood up on two feet again and smoothed out the front of your dress, avoiding the knowing looks from Tom’s brothers.

You left the table to make your way around dancing, sweaty bodies and through flashing lights. You were looking every which way for her curls. Maybe she got held up at the bar, or there was a line for the ladies room.  

That’s a stupid thought. There are no lines for Holland girls.

You spotted her curls finally, done up in a glamorous bun, strands of her dark ringlets falling to frame her pretty face. She had her legs crossed, showing off the sparkling heels she always wore. You knew they were hers by the scuff at the bottom of the heel. She had been wearing the same stilettos for months, a gift from Harrison, and she never wore anything else, despite having a closet full of shoes. You followed the curve of her bare arm, adorned with a few golden bracelets and her fingers decorated with rings to match. Her nails were long and manicured, a deep red color that she always preferred. She had a fierce smile on her face, fluttering her long lashes as she spoke to whoever was across from her, and you could tell she wasn’t flirting by the way she sat up straight.  

Mariposa had two ways of talking to men. The first way was distracting them, and she would twist her curls around her finger and lean forward so they could peek down the neckline of her top. She was beautiful, and they would always stare, and she would always get what she wanted. This time, she still had her jacket on over her corset top, and she was talking, her eyes narrowed and her posture straight and tall to convey her confident nature. She was saying something that was meaningful, and whoever was across from her needed to listen to whatever she had to say.

You came closer, and when she noticed you, her entire face fell, and she paled a bit. You stood at the end of the table, and you blinked when you noticed who was sitting across from her. You almost pulled the gun out from under your dress, but laughing voices from the table over reminded you where you were. There was nothing you could do but hope the candle on the table caught the sleeve of suit on fire and consumed his deranged soul in a fiery death.

“y/n—” Mariposa tried to explain, but you caught her off.

“Johnny boy,” a bitter smile grew on your face. “Mmm…you love being in places you don’t belong, huh?”

His eyes brightened a bit when he saw you. He looked older, much older than you last saw him. His face had sunken a bit, maybe a few more wrinkles there. His eyes were still bright and green and warm, and his hair had darkened just a bit from the dirty blonde it used to be. He still kept his hair a bit greasy and slicked back, and he still wore suits that were too big for him, a watch you knew he couldn’t afford, and a smile on his face that didn’t belong there.

Giovanni was the Sicilian man your father always wanted you to end up with. You called him Johnny to insult him, because you always knew how much he hated being American, and he preferred being called by his name in Italian. You refused him that, always calling him “Johnny baby, Johnny boy,” and each time making him angrier than it had the time before. He didn’t even know how to speak Italian. He was always trying to impress those above him, and your father was the man whose ass he kissed most frequently.

When he should’ve been kissing yours.

Your fears about an arranged marriage were valid. When your father told you the news about your mother and you had hurried back to California, mourning your mother wasn’t the only thing your father expected of you. When you had left for New York, your father knew you as someone that liked to get in trouble but would fall in line if he needed you to be. He had no idea what New York had done to you.

You knocked on your father’s study door, adjusting the leather jacket over your blouse. When you heard his voice, you came in, your boots sounding on the creaking wooden floorboards of the old house, an awkward sound in the deep silence that surrounded the walls of his office. You stood there frozen as the door closed behind you.

Your father was standing up from his seat behind the desk, De Luca beside him, and his lackeys lined up along the walls. Giovanni stood there in front of the desk, his own father holding him there with a hand on his shoulder. You brushed your hair back a bit, coming forward to stand in front of the desk.

“What’s going on, daddy?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “You called for me.”

“Well, y/n…things have been complicated in business lately,” your father explained, gesturing big with his hands. “We lost 20% of the ports in Italy because of some of the raids, and Giovanni’s father has generously agreed to get to work on acquiring the land back again on a few conditions.”

“That’s great,” you smiled bitterly. “What does that have to do with me?”

The men in the room shifted a bit, and you looked around at them all, turning back to your father when you had read the room enough.

“Oh, daddy,” you let out a breath. “No, you didn’t.”

“You know, y/n, there are things we do for business that make—”

“20%?” You scoffed. “That’s what you value the rest of my fucking life? My life is worth 20% of your Italian coast, yeah?”

“y/n—” Your father was mortified. He had never heard you speak like that, nor talk back to him like that. here were a lot of things you learned how to do in New York. One of those things had been to use your voice. You weren’t a little girl anymore, and you were adamant on standing up to anyone that got in the way of your interests.

Giovanni? That was against your interests.

“No,” you interrupted him. “Find another way.”

“There is no other way,” your father growled. “I made my deal, now it’s your turn, y/n.”

“y/n, c’mon, I’ve known you as long as I can remember,” Giovanni spoke up, coming close to you. He even had the audacity to put his arm around your waist, pulling you towards him. You looked up at him, your mouth opening in disbelief, and you felt his fingertips digging into your back, slipping under the fabric of your jacket. “It wouldn’t be so bad, yeah? Can’t say you haven’t thought about it.”

He was grinning, like he had won something, and you scoffed a bit.

“You’re right, Johnny boy, I have thought about this,” you leaned forward a bit, your face close to his. You moved your arm around to put your hand over his on your back, and you smiled sweetly at him before grabbing onto his wrist and twisting his arm enough to hear something crack in it as you pried him off of you.

Giovanni screamed loudly, and your father put a hand to his forehead as you held Giovanni by his arm still, holding pressure there as you continued to pull at his arm. You turned to his father, narrowing your eyes.

“Make a different deal,” you demanded. “Now.”

“You can’t just—”

Giovanni screamed in agony again as you pulled back his arm, using your leg to kick Giovanni onto his knees.

“Make a different deal,” you said again. “Or I’m going to make sure Johnny can’t even wipe his own ass again.”

“God, Dad!” Giovanni cried, doubling over as you held onto his arm. “Fuck, just do it, Christ!”

“Son—”

“Do it, do it!” Giovanni begged as you heard something crack violently as you bent his arm just a bit more. You were using the heel of your boot now, and using the weight of your body, you strained the length of his arm, the sounds only making your point more serious. “Jesus, fuck!”

“Perhaps, Mr. y/l/n, we can decide on a price instead.”

Giovanni walked around with a dislocated shoulder and broken fibula for months. Your father was furious with you, but he had no right to be. You had been so insulted that your father thought he could get away with something like that, and for a while, you made his life a living hell with his business partners. You had one message to get across to your father.

Don’t ever try and control me again.

You weren’t going to roll over and obey like the rest of his men. You had a purpose, not a position, and marrying you off to a misogynistic bastard wasn’t going to work. It was the beginning of your pursuit to be heard and seen, not used. That beginning had your father thinking twice about whether or not to barter you off like property, and it had started the growing, fiery mutual hatred between you and Giovanni.

You never expected Giovanni to grow a pair and come all the way to New York to entice you, but Giovanni was also absolutely terrible and would do anything to try and get the upper hand on you. He had been for years, and you were foolish to think he’d stop now.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted you, his eyes darkening and falling over the length of your body. He whistled a bit, lowly, rubbing his chin. “New York has done you well, y/n. Is this your new look now? I like it.”

“Ri, I think you should get a refill,” you said firmly, grabbing the glass of wine out of her hands and downing it. You handed it back to her, empty, and she stood up slowly, her fingers wrapping around the stem of the glass as you sat across from Giovanni. “Go on.”

Mariposa looked between you two before walking away, and Giovanni followed her, his eyes watching her as she disappeared into the crowd.

“Hmm…I see you and Miss Muñoz are still friendly,” he winked at you, “and I can’t blame you. I mean…fuck, look at her.”

You scoffed a bit, “you’re still as much of a dickhead as I remember. Whose ass did you kiss this time to get yourself here?”

Giovanni tsked, “y/n, don’t be that way. I came all this way to see you, I thought you’d be happy,” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I wanted to see my baby girl before she got all done up…all ready to take on Holland territory. I mean, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Gonna marry that piece of shit, aren’t you?”

You tapped your fingers on the table, clenching your jaw, “you know, I don’t remember my father inviting you in on family matters,” you smiled knowingly at him. “I don’t ever remember one of his…lackeys being in on operations like this. I seem to remember that only people that matter, only people that could contribute, got to sit it on important meetings. It’s bad for business when men at the bottom know about things like this, so I’m sorry, Johnny baby, that information is…classified.”

He laughed a bit, licking his bottom lip with a roll of his eyes. “Your father promised me a lot of things he’s yet to deliver on. Maybe bringing me with him is how he plans on giving me what I deserve finally.”

“Promises he had no way of guaranteeing,” your eyes were sparkling. “My father was simply mistaken, and he had to learn from those mistakes.” You stopped tapping your fingers, tilting your head to the side as you met his eyes and didn’t back away from his glare. “I do as I please, Johnny. Nobody tells me what to do, nobody can.”

“And what are you doing here?” Giovanni raised a brow. “You’re nothing but a whore for your father, letting the Hollands degrade you…all for your dad to get New York again, I think that’s what he said.”

You sniffed a bit, shifting in your seat, leaning forward more.

“If you think I’m a whore, then you’re as blind as you were years ago,” you said lowly. “That’s not how it works here. If I ask something of the Hollands, they do it for me. And no, it’s not because I sleep with any of them. It’s because unlike daddy’s business, where boys like you are running errands, there’s only men here, and they don’t ignore women because their dicks are too small.”

Giovanni snickered a bit, “you know, I don’t think I would’ve liked to have you as my wife anyway.”

You smiled a bit, gripping his collar and pulling him close. “You’re right, Johnny. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in that relationship.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you licked over your bottom lip. “You know…cause my dick is so much bigger than yours.”

Poking at his insecurities was always your defense because it worked every time. Giovanni was the equivalent to a child and commenting on the size of him always seemed to get him angry enough to do stupid things.

Giovanni stood up abruptly after you let him go, but he was forced back into his seat when he bumped right into Tom. The color ran out of his face when he realized who he was in front of, and he scooted back into the booth, away from him, and Tom snatched the drink right out of Giovanni’s hands, tipping his head back and swallowing it all. You bit back the smile on your face as the glass hit the table, and Giovanni was visibly sweating.

“Mm…” Tom scrunched his nose. “Vodka and seltzer? What a terrible choice in liquor, mate.”

“Holland,” Giovanni straightened out his jacket, and you saw all the fight drain out of him. Intimidated by Tom’s glare, he held out his hand for Tom to shake. “I’m…Giovanni. I work for y/n’s father.”

“Mmm…so you work for y/n,” Tom corrected him, and Giovanni just pursed his lips. You watched as Tom pulled a chair out and took a seat, spreading his legs a bit as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and slid some matches your way. You stroke one of the matches, leaning over to light it for him, and you dropped the match into Giovanni’s glass. Tom took a few puffs of the cancer stick before passing it to you, letting you take a drag.  

Giovanni watched the entire time. His eyes darted between you and Tom, watching intently as you both looked at one another, as if you were communicating silently, understanding one another.  

“He just came to say hello, Tom,” you said finally, letting out a breath of smoke, and Tom turned to finally grace Giovanni with his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, holding the cigarette between his index and forefinger as he looked Giovanni up and down.  

“Oh, to say hello, eh?” Tom was taking up space with the way he sat, knowing exactly how to intimidate others just by the way he positioned himself. “Mate, I can’t help but notice the way you look at y/n. I think…” he leaned forward and blew a breath of smoke into Giovanni’s face, “you should have more respect for my fiancé. Because being disrespectful to my fiancé means you’re disrespecting me, and I don’t bloody care for men that don’t respect me, do you understand what I’m saying?”

Your heart tightened a bit in your chest. You didn’t need Tom to stand up for you, and he knew that, you had been doing it for months yourself. But hearing him do it anyways, it was sweet. You had yet to hear Tom tell you that he loved you, but there was no denying it now, not here.  

Giovanni shifted in his seat, brushing his hair back. He nodded finally, fiddling with his fingers.  

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t like that,” Giovanni assured him, his voice breaking, and Tom tilted his head to the side.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No! N-No,” Giovanni shook his head adamantly, “I meant…y/n and I, we go…we go way back. We’ve known each other a long time.”

“I see,” Tom laughed a bit, looking between you and Giovanni, his smile so sinister. Giovanni laughed with him nervously. “I see, so…because you and y/n know each other, it’s alright for you to act like a bastard, yeah?”

Your eyes glowed as you watched Tom break Giovanni down like a wall made of glass. Giovanni was scared, and you adored seeing him like this. You adored Tom, who was spitting venom in his ear, all for you. You couldn’t do much except stare at him lovingly.

“I think…you should apologize,” Tom said finally, and Giovanni gaped at Tom, blinking in disbelief. “I think your father would appreciate that, wouldn’t he, darling?”

“Mhm,” you agreed, standing up. Tom brought his hand around your waist as you took a seat in his lap, and he passed you the cigarette as you met Giovanni’s eyes. “Let’s hear it, Johnny. What do you have to say to me?”

Giovanni was proud, so proud. He had an ego even bigger than Tom’s, and he hid behind your father to throw insults at you. But here, in New York, your father wasn’t in charge anymore. What a Holland said was how it went, and there was no viable contradiction to it. Your father was not here to back up Giovanni and his unrealistic desires, and Tom was in your corner now.  

I am yours, and you are mine.

Tom squeezed your hip, kissing your bare shoulder before trailing up and planting soft kisses to your neck. You smiled at Giovanni, reaching up and tangling your fingers into Tom’s curls to encourage him. Your eyes were dark and alight with contentment, and Giovanni could do nothing anymore. You were untouchable here, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to bite back at you.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he hissed through his teeth, and you blew Giovanni a kiss.

“Mmm…submissiveness suits you, Johnny,” you purred, standing up from Tom’s lap. You tapped off the cigarette as Tom stood up from his seat, straightening out his suit. “Tell daddy I said hello, and that I hope all is ready for tomorrow. Nine o’clock, right?”

Giovanni grimaced, biting back the words he was dying to say to you, but Tom was still listening, a look on his face that dared him to open his mouth. Giovanni simply nodded slowly, and you stubbed out the cigarette onto the table, tossing the ashes at him. Tom watched as you started walking away, smirking as he took a handful of your ass in one hand, following you. You let him, licking your bottom lip as he squeezed, and you grabbed onto his hand as you backed up into the wall, bringing him with you.

“Thank you,” was all you said, and Tom just pursed his lips, glaring down at you. He wasn’t angry, that wasn’t it. If he was, he would’ve gotten you both alone, in private, and he would’ve told you exactly what he wanted you to hear. This was different. He was seething, his chest rising and falling heavy, but he wasn’t angry.

“Who was that?” Tom demanded, touching under your chin. He wanted answers, clearly. You smoothed out the collar of his dress shirt, fixing it over his jacket. You sighed a bit, shaking your head.

“Nobody,” you said softly. “One of my father’s…I don’t even know what to call him. Tried to marry me off to the guy once upon a time,” you were pulled away from him abruptly as he pushed away from the wall, “wait, Tom—”

Oops.

You sat in silence in the car, sitting on opposite ends in the backseat, but this time, Tom didn’t have a hand on you. He was staring out the window, bouncing his leg, a hard look on his face as he ran a hand through his hair, fluffing the curls out of the product that kept them tidy. Tom had been acting this way all night, something itching at him, something bothering him, and it kept his head preoccupied.

“You didn’t care to tell me about that fucking tosser, eh?” Tom asked finally, his voice hard. You took a deep breath.

“Tom, honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again,” you explained, shaking your head. “I definitely didn’t think my dad was going to let him go on a trip with him, especially here, when we’re getting…married and all.”

Tom laughed a bit, “you know, y/n, I thought we were on the same page. I thought we were going to stop fucking lying to each other when the situation at hand is so fucking sensitive, that I could lose my bloody head!”

You scrunched your nose a bit as he raised his voice, and you smoothed out the skirt of your dress.

“Tom, I didn’t know,” you said again, sighing. “He surprised me just as much as he surprised you. Don’t yell at me.”

You rode in silence again, staring down at your painted nails as the car stopped and drove in the congested Midtown traffic. After a few minutes of Tom silently brooding, you were taken back when Tom reached over and grabbed both sides of your face, pulling you to him and kissing you hard. It was the same way he always touched you, always grabbed you, where his fingers slightly tangled in your hair and his palms were warm against your face and his grip was tight and firm. He pulled away shortly, licking over his bottom lip as he stared down at you. The touch of his rings cooled your face just a bit, but you still felt hot all over from his kiss.

He pulled back completely and sat straight again, resuming his previous position. He didn’t say anything or acknowledge how passionate the kiss had been, and you were grateful, because you were still recovering from it. You turned away from him, reaching up to touch your lips, and you smiled to yourself. Tom wasn’t upset with you; no. Tom was jealous.

When you looked down at your hands again, you paid attention to Tom’s diamond band, still on your ring finger. He had yet to get you an engagement ring or something of your own, but he never asked for his ring back, and you continued to wear it. Smoothing your finger over it, it was almost symbolic. You had taken it right off of Tom, but he was content in you having it and keeping it because he trusted you.

Because he loves me.

You hoped everything of his was that way. Once you took his name, you would have a whole other position to take on, a whole other empire to think about. He would give it to you, but there was no tension or fear between you because he trusted you, and you trusted him. In just a few days, you and Tom were not just business partners with benefits. You were connected to him, and he was connected to you, and nothing in your life had ever felt so seamless, so complete. It had to stay that way.

It just has to.

You turned your head to look at Tom. He was still looking out the window, but his nervous leg had stopped bouncing, and he was still, his legs spread a bit as looked at the city that belonged to him. His jaw was a bit hard, and he kept flexing and unflexing his fingers, curling them into fists and out of them. His mannerisms were calm and slow, but something was bothering him still. Perhaps the same thing that was bothering you.

From the moment you met Tom, you knew he was going to be hard to resist. You were a woman, and women had needs, of course they did. Tom was insufferable, a complete arrogant, egotistical, and excruciating pain in your ass, but God, was he beautiful and God, did he dress well. Tom exuded the money he made, he cleaned up like it, and he acted like it. You had always hated that personality in the men you met, but for Tom, he did egotistical and arrogant far more sophisticated and far subtler. He was good at being bad, he was good at being rich, and there were days when you just wanted to slam the door to his office shut and force him against it.  

I mean, aren’t you marrying him?

Truthfully, you had no idea what you were doing. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, shaking your head. It wasn’t the time to think about those things. You and Tom had work to do, and none of it involved ripped clothes and tangled sheets.  

You’re trying to merge kingdoms, not get hot and heavy with him. Focus.

The car stopped, and Tom opened the door. He stood on the sidewalk, waiting for you, and he held out his hand for you to take. You intertwined your fingers, and Tom shut the door behind you, helping you onto the sidewalk. You looked up at your apartment building for a moment, and even though there was a chill outside, you kept Tom there, not moving from your place on the sidewalk.

Tom sighed, letting go of you for a moment to light a cigarette. He took your hand again as he put the lighter away.

“What is it, y/n? What do you have to say?” Tom asked, as if he knew there were words itching to be spoken. You swallowed a bit, stepping closer to him. You reached for the ring on your finger, taking it off and holding it up for him to look at.

“Is this…what are we doing?” You wondered, a bit breathless. “Tomorrow, we’re supposed to…get married. That was the plan, it was always the plan, but…things are different now. There’s no secrets, Tommy, that changed things.”

“Nothing’s changed,” Tom countered, and you pursed your lips.

“You’re an idiot if you think nothing’s changed, Tom,” you argued. “I just…I just want the truth, Tom. That’s all.” You met his eyes, shaking your head. “I just want to know that…even if being married to me isn’t what you want, that…that you’ll still have my back.”

Tom let out a slow breath of smoke, away from you, before taking the ring out of your hands and putting it back onto his own finger. Your face softened a bit, and you swallowed hard, trying to fight down the feeling crawling up inside you.

No, no, no.

Tom reached into his suit jacket, pulling something out of one of the pockets. You looked down as he opened his palm, and you let out a shaky breath as you saw it. There, in his hand, was a thin solid gold band with a single rectangular diamond. He took your left hand in his, dropping the cigarette and stubbing it out before slipping the band onto your ring finger. You had nothing to say as he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles before intertwining your fingers again and tugging you towards the building.

The silence told you enough. Tom had always planned on going through with it, and even though neither of you were sure about the future, you were sure about each other. Tomorrow night, you would marry him, and he would marry you, and even though both of you would be pretending, the vows would be real.

The beginning would be true.

You punched in the code for your door and used the key to unlock it, opening it. Tom held it open as he came in after you, and Tom shut the door as he backed you up against it, resting both of his forearms on either side of your head. You swallowed hard as you met his eyes, barely able to see him with the lack of lights on. The moonlight peeked in through the windows, but it was only enough to see half of his face.

“Tom,” you said finally, “what are you—”

He captured your breath in a kiss, pressing you up against the door. You dropped your purse onto the floor, hearing it clatter as you wrapped your arms around Tom’s neck, pulling him closer to you. He nipped at your bottom lip, enough that you let out a little laugh. All the tension in your body rose as one of Tom’s hands left the door and came up your neck, wrapping around your throat, gripping it firmly.

Oh, you have me, Tommy. I’m all yours.

You swallowed again, something dry, as Tom’s thumb trailed along the length of your jaw and up, tracing the outline of your lips. His touch was soft and hot, and his eyes were watching your reaction. You didn’t move, not at all, not until his thumb went into your mouth and you could wrap your lips around it, your eyes going up to meet his again.

“I’ve seen a lot of things tonight I wish I hadn’t, y/n,” Tom said lowly, chuckling darkly. “And you with that bastard was one of them.”

So jealous.

You gasped a bit as his grip on your throat tightened, forcing you back into the door, his wet thumb rubbing along your chin now.

So possessive.

“Bloody disrespectful that was,” Tom’s lip twitched angrily, and his eyes were so dark, you couldn’t see anything in them. “But you know what pushed me over the fuckin’ edge tonight, darling, eh? You know what it was?”

All mine.

When you didn’t answer, Tom shoved you into the door, your head hitting it a bit hard, and you grunted a bit, letting out a few heavy breaths. You were shivering all over from his touch, thinking about the last time you were underneath him. This time, just his fingers wouldn’t be enough, you knew that much.

“It was you, y/n,” Tom breathed, shaking his head. “You, thinking that I didn’t want you as my fucking queen. And it got me thinking, love.”

You let out a harsh breath as he shoved his knee between your legs, his thigh just ghosting the place you needed him the most. If you weren’t wet before, you were drenched now, hot all over, and completely shivering. Finally, Tom Holland had you at his mercy. He was enjoying every second of it.

Every curve, every dimple, every piece, it’s mine.

“It got me thinking that perhaps you don’t bloody understand what you mean to me,” Tom murmured, licking his lips. “But you will, darling. You’ll understand. I’ll make sure that you understand.”

You cried out in surprise as Tom gripped you by the waist and turned you around, pressing you up against the door again. Your cheek rested against it as he pressed his hips into your backside, dipping his head to the crook of your neck as you felt him, hard and strained against the zipper of his trousers, all for you. Tom kissed under your ear softly, his breath warm as he dragged his tongue up the length of your ear and kissed the edge of your earlobe.  

“You’re a princess today, y/n,” he growled. “And tomorrow, I’m gonna make you a bloody queen.”

With everyone on their knees for you.

You were rendered speechless. Tom was whispering in your ear, his hands were falling down your sides, and you were completely, utterly useless. You whimpered as he gripped the hem of your dress and hiked it up, his hand cupping one side of your ass generously, squeezing. He almost moaned himself seeing the holster strapped around your thighs, your gun nice and snug against your leg.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Tom chuckled. “Look at you, darling…” You leaned your head back against his chest as you felt his fingers tug at the lace of your panties, moving between your legs before he touched between your thighs. He whistled a bit, lowly, “shit, baby, you’re bloody soaked…”

That was an understatement. Your panties were ruined.

“God, Tom—”

“You’ve wanted this,” he observed, gripping the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your thighs. “You’ve wanted me, sweetheart, but you never said a word. You don’t have to hide anymore, y/n. If I’m going to be your husband, you’ve got to be honest with me, eh?”

You couldn’t concentrate as his hands moved between your thighs, and you cried out a bit as he spanked you firmly. Your head was spinning, all you could think about was the ache between your legs and how hot your whole body felt. You knew you were dripping when Tom grasped the handle of the gun, pulling it out of its place and unbuckling the holster so it fell onto the floor. The metal was so cool and hard against your skin, and you froze as he released the magazine from it, the bullets scattered across the floor now. He dropped the gun, and it clattered onto the floor.

God, he’s going to make me come, and he’s barely touched me.

“Answer me, y/n. You’re going to be more honest with me about what you want, yeah?” Tom demanded. “If my wife is bloody needy,” you groaned as he tangled his hand into your hair, forcing your head back again, “if my queen wants something from me,” you sighed with relief as he kissed your neck, “I expect her to say so.”

My wife.

“Yes, Tommy,” you cooed, and you felt him smile against the skin of your neck.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, and you had to bite back a moan. You felt so submissive, so out of your element, but you had never adored the praise more than right now. This was the attractive, hot, kingpin that the city was afraid of, and he was calling you his good girl, his princess, his queen, and you didn’t realize how much you loved being worshipped until right now. You didn’t realize how much you needed someone to take care of you.

You closed your eyes as Tom started to kiss over the back of your neck, one hand sliding up your waist again as the other toyed with your clit, circling it gently just to keep you occupied as he felt up the body he loved more than any other. He had his eyes closed, and he was trying to memorize the curves of your skin, how often your breath skipped as he touched you, how warm you were. You smiled a bit as he fingered the zipper of your dress.

“Go ahead, Tommy,” you said softly. “I want you to.”

Good girl.

Tom unzipped the back of your dress, his knuckles dragging along your spine as he did. His touch was electric, each time his skin met yours was like a bolt of warmth that cascaded all down your back. You closed your eyes again as he began to kiss down your back, butterfly kisses trailing from the back of your neck to between your shoulder blades to the base of your spine, a trickle effect of shivers moving through you. Tom got down onto his knees behind you, and you groaned a bit as he bent you at the hip a bit. He put both hands on your ass, kissing the skin there, biting even.

“You couldn’t get any more beautiful,” he said lowly, and you let out a soft whimper as you felt his curls tickle your skin. It wasn’t long before your knees began to give out, an involuntary response as Tom dipped his head between your legs, his tongue poking out from between those wet lips to slip inside you.

“God, Tom—” You gasped, holding onto the wall for support. Tom put one hand on your hip to steady you and used the other to touch you teasingly. He started out slow, lapping through your folds, humming as he collected the sticky, sweet wetness onto the surface of his tongue, swallowing before delving in for more. With two other fingers, he massaged your bud lovingly, coaxing the most beautiful moans out of you. Tom was smirking like a bastard when he noticed your knees were shaking a bit, your body trembling as you gave into the sensation. “Tommy—”

“Mmm…you’ve got such a sweet cunt, darling,” he murmured, kissing your thighs, his voice a bit muffled against your skin. “Bloody wonderful.”

You leaned your head back, one hand leaving the wall to grab at his stiff curls, pulling on them hard. Tom chuckled a bit, his lips wrapping around your clit, his tongue moving in rhythm as he slipped two fingers inside of you, stretching you nicely, making your eyes roll back in your head as you rocked your hips a bit, feeling a sweet knot forming in your belly.  

“Mm, princess, you’re so bloody tight, yeah?” Tom breathed, pulling away to catch his breath. “You’re close, eh?”

“Tom, Jesus!” You squealed, forcing his head back between your legs. “Don’t stop, what’s w-wrong with you?”

Tom didn’t stop. He stood up from his knees, grabbing you from the waist and hoisting you up into his arms. You held onto his neck as he carried you into the bedroom, setting you down on the bed as he shed his suit jacket and kicked his shoes off. You stopped him from moving too fast, slipping your heels off before sitting up on your knees on the bed, tugging Tom to you by the fabric of his shirt, meeting his eyes as you slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Tom undid the clasp of his watch, tossing it onto the floor on top of his jacket. He undid his cufflinks as you finished undoing the buttons of his shirt, and you slid the fabric off his shoulders, revealing his muscular torso. You couldn’t see much in the dark, but your fingers ghosted over flexed muscle and soft skin, and you let out a breath as you scratched down his stomach. Tom was a sight for sore eyes, and despite the scars and marks that you could feel, his skin was the most kissable surface you had ever seen.

“It’s alright, love,” a gentle noise escaped you as Tom gripped your chin hard with one hand, the other unbuckling his belt and working on his trousers. “I know…it’s hard to fathom how fit your husband is, isn’t it?”

“You’re not my husband,” you said defiantly, and Tom clicked his tongue.

“After tonight, m’love, you’ll never need anyone but me.”

“Bite me, Tom.”

“With pleasure.”

You heard the fabric of your dress tear as he pushed it off your shoulders roughly, grabbing the hem of it and shimmying it down your hips. He forced you onto your back so he could pull it off and toss it behind him, and Tom grinned as he looked down at you, scooting back on the bed as you kicked your panties off your ankle. There you were, like an angel sparkling in moonlight, all bare for him to admire.

All fucking mine.

He caged himself over you, getting on top of you, and you cupped his cheeks, kissing him warmly as you both settled back against the pillows. Despite how dominating Tom could be, this was gentle, this was sweet, and there was no rushing now. Tom brought you up to sit, rolling over until you were straddling his waist, his back against the headboard as you both kissed warmly, your thighs still shaking and damp from Tom’s unbelievable mouth. It wasn’t long before your fingers were threading through his curls again as you grinded down on his lap, chasing your high even though Tom had yet to remove his boxers.

He wasn’t stopping you. Both of his hands were on your bare back, his palms pressing you close as you moved your hips, both of your mouths still focused on each other, kissing, biting, breathing. You were chasing a high that Tom had denied you, not caring how desperate you looked as you leaned your head back and moved.  

Your moan was feverish and shaky as you came, falling onto his chest for support as your hips slowed their pace. Tom gripped you by the hair and flipped you both over, getting on top, and you reached down between your grinding bodies to feel the front of his boxers, feeling how damp and sticky they were.

“Mmm, did you make a mess, baby?” You teased, and Tom pulled at your hair roughly, and you smiled at that, to his delight.

“Aye, you bloody adore that thought, eh? Getting me off without so much as fucking touchin’ me,” he chuckled a bit, and you hummed as he grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his waist securely. You held onto him as you felt the tip of him against your thigh, warm, wet, aching to be touched. You stared right into his eyes as you lowered your hand, finding his cock and wrapping your nimble fingers around him, your lips parting as you felt him for the very first time.

Tom gripped one side of your face hard as you stroked him, your fingers exploring the parts of him you had been deprived of for too long. Tom was lengthy, hard, and throbbing, and he thought you were being cruel with how slowly and tenderly you were touching him.  

“Look at me,” you breathed, and he grunted as he met your eyes again, licking his lips as you slowed your fingers around him. You leaned forward, giving him a kiss beside the mouth before kissing him firmly, hotly, sloppily. “I’m going to make you unstoppable, Tommy. I know what you want, baby, and I’m going to give it to you. You want the world, Tom, and I swear…it’s yours.”

As if I’m not already fucking hard for her.

You couldn’t remember how long you kissed for, but your lips were swollen, red, aching by the time Tom gripped your hips and pushed into you. You arched your back at the feeling, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but that didn’t stop Tom from sinking into you slowly, not stopping until your hips touched. You clawed at his back, your nails digging in hard. Tom didn’t move, but you could feel him pulsing, aching, dying to do something, anything.

“And I,” Tom sucked at the skin at the edge of your jaw, taking the skin between his teeth as he kissed to nibble and bite, “I’m going to give you the fucking power you deserve, princess.”

What I deserve.

You moaned in his ear as he finally lifted his hips, grunting as he pressed his body as close to yours as possible, the tip of his cock grazing somewhere inside of you that had you crying out in pleasure. Tom grabbed your face again, holding it tight as he moved his hips against yours, watching as your mouth gaped open wider and wider as he found his rhythm.  

“Everyone is going to know your name, y/n,” Tom growled, rutting his hips up into yours, his breath faltering when he could feel you tightening up around him. “You’re going to be a fucking Holland, aren’t you, love?”

“Yes!” You gasped, dragging your nails down his back.

“Say it,” Tom gripped you by the throat this time, forcing your eyes on his as he quickened his hips, starting to lose control. “Fuckin’ say it.”

Mine.

“I’m a—” You moaned loudly as he dug his fingers into your hips, a forceful grip that had you shaking all over. Tom was relentless in his drive to get you seeing stars, and the tip of his cock was hitting the same sweet, aching spot over and over again inside of you. Once he found it, he didn’t stop searching for it, his focus solely on making those sweet eyes of yours milky and white with pleasure.  

“Say it, princess,” Tom demanded, becoming breathless and hot as he moved on top of you. There was sweat lining his forehead, and your nails dragging along his back had become clammy with the sweat dripping down the length of his spine.

“I’m a Holland!” You cried out, biting down on his shoulder, and Tom slowed his pace a bit, picking you up until you were upright with him. You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, leaning your forehead against his as you both moved as one, your hips meeting deliciously, getting faster and sloppier every second you both held onto to one another. Tom was hitting deep inside of you, and you needed to feel more, you had to feel everything, because it had been so long since you had felt anything.  

All mine.

Tom smoothed his hand up and down your back, your panting breaths mingling as the pace quickened again, the knot in your stomach building up sweetly and intensely. Tom was fucking you raw, and you were loving every single moment of it.  

“I need you, Tommy,” you breathed, and he nodded in response, not stopping the quick thrusts he had built up so well.  

“I know,” he whispered, pulling at your sweaty hair, hugging your chest close to his. Skin on skin, the only sounds being Tom’s cock moving between you and your sweet breathless moans as you held onto him. “Be a good girl for me, y/n.”

You whimpered as he said it again.  

Good girl.

It was a command you couldn’t help but obey. For so long, you had tried so hard to be anything but good. Good never got you anywhere, and no one cared about good girls, no one in this business listened to good girls. They ignored good girls, tossed aside good girls, killed good girls.

But here, now, in this bedroom, Tom needed you to be good, and it wasn’t because he wanted to toss you aside, it was because he needed you to be good to give you whatever you wanted. Tom didn’t need you to be good for anyone else except for him.

Your whole body froze as you came around his hard length, your hips stilling and your voice faltering as your vision turned a bit blurry for a moment. Everything was so silent and pleasurable for just a few moments, Tom’s hips slowing their pace but not stopping as he reached his own high. You gasped a bit as you felt him, filling you up and almost making you collapse. It was almost like a second high, feeling him like that, and Tom had to hold you upright as you tried to swallow down all the wonderful feelings inside of you.

You both panted hard, sweaty and exhausted, but neither of you wanted to move. Tom’s cock had softened, but you stopped him as he tried to pull out.

“Just a minute,” you breathed, closing you eyes. “Just…wait.”

The truth was that you had never felt more vulnerable or closer to anyone than this moment. You wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible. Tom nipped at your neck as you relaxed in his lap, and you let out slight gasps as he moved every once in a while. Finally, slowly, you urged him to pull out, and Tom was quick to collect everything dripping onto your thighs and slip those fingers into your mouth, watching you hungrily.

“You’re mine, y/n,” Tom said finally, brushing the hair out of your eyes. You looked down at him, perched on his lap, and you nodded slowly. “Your father is going to have to pry you out of my dead bloody hands to get to you, yeah?”

“Don’t say things like that,” you whispered, shaking your head. “The only way we get out of this, Tommy, is together.”

“You and I, love,” Tom echoed, his forehead against yours again. He left a chaste kiss on your lips. “My ride or die.”

“Two sides of the same coin,” you cooed, and Tom leaned in close enough to kiss you again.  

“One and the same,” you both said at the same time, smiling wide at one another, so enamored with each other that it was frightening.

You tried to remember how Tom looked like this. His handsome features only lit by moonlight, the sweat along his brows, the smile ghosting his swollen lips. Tom was pretty in this light, almost gentle, and you adored being able to see him like this. No one else would ever be able to admire him in this light, and you didn’t care if it was selfish. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and you tried so hard to swallow the fear in your throat. Tom couldn’t know how nervous you were, how scared you were. You had to show him that you were capable of doing this for him, that you had it in you to sit on thrones that weren’t made for you and to take on challenges that were never designed for you to succeed. You had to be better. You had to be more.  

You need to be you.

Tomorrow would be the first chapter in a book you had never planned on writing. For so long, you were sure about where you were supposed to stand, but now you were struggling where to even put your feet as every step felt shakier than the last. Looking into Tom’s dark eyes, you were certain that this was the calm before the storm. Time and time again, your father proved he couldn’t be trusted, and there was something inside you that knew even the things he told you must’ve been a lie.  

“He will never learn until it’s too late, and by then, nothing will be able to save him.”

Your father would only see through you. He would never be able to see you for what you were. You would have to take everything from him because you were certain that he would never give you what you were promised. You would have to take it, and you were relying on Tom to be there to catch you when you did.

“It’s you, and it will always be you, and I hope he dies knowing it.”

This had to be the beginning, your beginning. It couldn’t be anything else. This love, this happiness, it all had to be for a reason, and the right reasons. You had fought so hard to get here, to finally feel in control, and finally, someone was looking at you. Tom was looking at you, and he was in love with you, and you needed to protect it from the world that you were never meant for. You knew it would do anything to tear it away from you, to make you believe that you weren’t worthy of it all, but you had to be better. You couldn’t let this be anything more than the start. It couldn’t be the beginning of anything else. Not the beginning of losing, not the beginning of being alone, not the beginning of the end.

It has to be the beginning of me.

read chapter nine