#corrupt chapter 28 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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NLRB rules that any union busting triggers automatic union recognition

Tonight (September 6) at 7pm, I'll be hosting Naomi Klein at the LA Public Library for the launch of Doppelganger.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

American support for unions is at its highest level in generations, from 70% (general population) to 88% (Millenials) – and yet, American unionization rates are pathetic.

That's about to change.

The National Labor Relations Board just handed down a landmark ruling – the Cemex case – that "brought worker rights back from the dead."

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-08-28-bidens-nlrb-brings-workers-rights-back/

At issue in Cemex was what the NLRB should do about employers that violate labor law during union drives. For decades, even the most flagrantly illegal union-busting was met with a wrist-slap. For example, if a boss threatened or fired an employee for participating in a union drive, the NLRB would typically issue a small fine and order the employer to re-hire the worker and provide back-pay.

Everyone knows that "a fine is a price." The NLRB's toothless response to cheating presented an easily solved equation for corrupt, union-hating bosses: if the fine amounts to less than the total, lifetime costs of paying a fair wage and offering fair labor conditions, you should cheat – hell, it's practically a fiduciary duty:

https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/468061

Enter the Cemex ruling: once a majority of workers have signed a union card, any Unfair Labor Practice by their employer triggers immediate, automatic recognition of the union. In other words, the NLRB has fitted a tilt sensor in the American labor pinball machine, and if the boss tries to cheat, they automatically lose.

Cemex is a complete 180, a radical transformation of the American labor regulator from a figleaf that legitimized union busting to an actual enforcer, upholding the law that Congress passed, rather than the law that America's oligarchs wish Congress had passed. It represents a turning point in the system of lawless impunity for American plutocracy.

In the words of Frank Wilhoit, it is is a repudiation of the conservative dogma: "There must be in-groups whom the law protects but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect":

https://crookedtimber.org/2018/03/21/liberals-against-progressives/#comment-729288

It's also a stunning example of what regulatory competence looks like. The Biden administration is a decidedly mixed bag. On the one hand there are empty suits masquerading as technocrats, champions of the party's centrist wing (slogan: "Everything is fine and change is impossible"):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

But the progressive, Sanders/Warren wing of the party installed some fantastically competent, hard-charging, principled fighters, who are chapter-and-verse on their regulatory authority and have the courage to use that authority:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

They embody the old joke about the photocopier technician who charges "$1 to kick the photocopier and $79 to know where to kick it." The best Biden appointees have their boots firmly laced, and they're kicking that mother:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

One such expert kicker is NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo. Abruzzo has taken a series of muscular, bold moves to protect American workers, turning the tide in the class war that the 1% has waged on workers since the Reagan administration. For example, Abruzzo is working to turn worker misclassification – the fiction that an employee is a small business contracting with their boss, a staple of the "gig economy" – into an Unfair Labor Practice:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/10/see-you-in-the-funny-papers/bidens-legacy

She's also waging war on robo-scab companies: app-based employment "platforms" like Instawork that are used to recruit workers to cross picket lines, under threat of being blocked from the app and blackballed by hundreds of local employers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

With Cemex, Abruzzo is restoring a century-old labor principle that has been gathering dust for generations: the idea that workers have the right to organize workplace gemocracies without fear of retaliation, harassment, or reprisals.

But as Harold Meyerson writes for The American Prospect, the Cemex ruling has its limits. Even if the NLRB forces and employer to recognize a union, they can't force the employer to bargain in good faith for a union contract. The National Labor Relations Act prohibits the Board from imposing a contract.

That's created a loophole that corrupt bosses have driven entire fleets of trucks through. Workers who attain union recognition face years-long struggles to win a contract, as their bosses walk away from negotiations or offer farcical "bargaining positions" in the expectation that they'll be rejected, prolonging the delay.

Democrats have been trying to fix this loophole since the LBJ years, but they've been repeatedly blocked in the senate. But Abruzzo is a consummate photocopier kicker, and she's taking aim. In Thrive Pet Healthcare, Abruzzo has argued that failing to bargain in good faith for a contract is itself an Unfair Labor Practice. That means the NLRB has the authority to act to correct it – they can't order a contract, but they can order the employer to give workers "wages, benefits, hours, and such that are comparable to those provided by comparable unionized companies in their field."

Mitch McConnell is a piece of shit, but he's no slouch at kicking photocopiers himself. For a whole year, McConnell has blocked senate confirmation hearings to fill a vacant seat on the NLRB. In the short term, this meant that the three Dems on the board were able to hand down these bold rulings without worrying about their GOP colleagues.

But McConnell was playing a long game. Board member Gwynne Wilcox's term is about to expire. If her seat remains vacant, the three remaining board members won't be able to form a quorum, and the NLRB won't be able to do anything.

As Meyerson writes, centrist Dems have refused to push McConnell on this, hoping for comity and not wanting to violate decorum. But Chuck Schumer has finally bestirred himself to fight this issue, and Alaska GOP senator Lisa Murkowski has already broken with her party to move Wilcox's confirmation to a floor vote.

The work of enforcers like DoJ Antitrust Division boss Jonathan Kanter, FTC chair Lina Khan, and SEC chair Gary Gensler is at the heart of Bidenomics: the muscular, fearless deployment of existing regulatory authority to make life better for everyday Americans.

But of course, "existing regulatory authority" isn't the last word. The judges filling stolen seats on the illegitimate Supreme Court had invented the "major questions doctrine" and have used it as a club to attack Biden's photocopier-kickers. There's real danger that Cemex – and other key actions – will get fast-tracked to SCOTUS so the dotards in robes can shatter our dreams for a better America.

Meyerson is cautiously optimistic here. At 40% (!), the Court's approval rating is at a low not seen since the New Deal showdowns. The Supremes don't have an army, they don't have cops, they just have legitimacy. If Americans refuse to acknowledge their decisions, all they can do it sit and stew:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/26/mint-the-coin-etc-etc/#blitz-em

The Court knows this. That's why they fume so publicly about attacks on their legitimacy. Without legitimacy, they're nothing. With the Supremes' support at 40% and union support at 70%, any judicial attack on Cemex could trigger term-limits, court-packing, and other doomsday scenarios that will haunt the relatively young judges for decades, as the seats they stole dwindle into irrelevance. Meyerson predicts that this will weigh on them, and may stay their hands.

Meyerson might be wrong, of course. No one ever lost money betting on the self-destructive hubris of Federalist Society judges. But even if he's wrong, his point is important. If the Supremes frustrate the democratic will of the American people, we have to smash the Supremes. Term limits, court-packing, whatever it takes:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/20/judicial-equilibria/#pack-the-court

And the more we talk about this – the more we make this consequence explicit – the more it will weigh on them, and the better the chance that they'll surprise us. That's already happening! The Supremes just crushed the Sackler opioid crime-family's dream of keeping their billions in blood-money:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

But if it doesn't stop them? If they crush this dream, too? Pack the court. Impose term limits. Make it the issue. Don't apologize, don't shrug it off, don't succumb to learned helplessness. Make it our demand. Make it a litmus test: "If elected, will you vote to pack the court and clear the way for democratic legitimacy?"

Meanwhile, Cemex is already bearing fruit. After an NYC Trader Joe's violated the law to keep Trader Joe's United from organizing a store, the workers there have petitioned to have their union automatically recognized under the Cemex rule:

https://truthout.org/articles/trader-joes-union-files-to-force-company-to-recognize-union-under-new-nlrb-rule/

With the NLRB clearing the regulatory obstacles to union recognition, America's largest unions are awakening from their own long slumbers. For decades, unions have spent a desultory 3% of their budgets on organizing workers into new locals. But a leadership upset in the AFL-CIO has unions ready to catch a wave with the young workers and their 88% approval rating, with a massive planned organizing drive:

https://prospect.org/labor/labors-john-l-lewis-moment/

Meyerson calls on other large unions to follow suit, and the unions seem ready to do so, with new leaders and new militancy at the Teamsters and UAW, and with SEIU members at unionized Starbucks waiting for their first contracts.

Turning union-supporting workers into unionized workers is key to fighting Supreme Court sabotage. Organized labor will give fighters like Abruzzo the political cover she needs to Get Shit Done. A better America is possible. It's within our grasp. Though there is a long way to go, we are winning crucial victories all the time.

The centrist message that everything is fine and change is impossible is designed to demoralize you, to win the fight in your mind so they don't have to win it in the streets and in the jobsite. We don't have to give them that victory. It's ours for the taking.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks

#nlrb #cemex #unions #labor #class war #photocopier kickers #ulp #unfair labor practices #jennifer abruzzo #thrive pet care #national labor review board #scotus #afl-cio #trader joes #harold meyerson #labor day #pluralistic

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jiminjamms · 5 months ago

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sex therapy :: 29. karma's a bitch

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. naoya's anger issues continue. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. mentions of physical violence. family drama.

word count: 3.2k

notes: my sixty-hour work weeks have been taking a huge toll on me, so i apologize for this incredibly slow update. the good news is that i cannot take this corporate america bullshit anymore and will resign in the next two months. thank you for being patient! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Naoya had never felt this humiliated in his entire life.

When people said karma was a bitch, he never thought that it would actually make its way back to him. While he was not the most righteous person in the world, he was the Zenin CEO, for god’s sake! He was the leader to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, the heir of a centuries-old bloodline.

Yet, here he was, charging back to his apartment like an irate animal.

He startled the lobby doormen upon his loud entry, and once he returned to his penthouse, he had to will every muscle in his body not to tear apart his abode in a rampage.

In his head, his encounter with Toji looped like a broken record, fueling his chagrin.

When Naoya sought to confront his cousin for the first time in months, he thought he had been prepared. He did not expect to end up digging himself into a deep hole surpassing the world's layers due to a judgment error—a slight miscalculation.

Correction: this miscalculation was anything but 'slight' because he wildly underestimated what felt like everything. Now, he bore the consequences of his mistakes after inadvertently turning himself into a laughingstock. Because his ego was his hamartia, he had become a mere jester in a story where he was meant to be the sole hero, and thus his ill feelings burned hotter than the surface of the Sun.

As much as he hated to admit this, Naoya had been shortsighted. He should have known better. Just weeks ago, he saw a vision filled with saccharine promises of a happy, comfortable life as the most powerful man in Japan imbued with power and wealth. He had been confident—a hundred percent certain—that absolutely nothing could go wrong in the trajectory he worked hard to create. But, what the actual fuck just happened at the therapist's office?!

He did not expect his mistress to make a complete fool out of him. Her very existence was an anathema to him, and he hoped to never be in contact with that woman ever again. In hindsight, Naoya should have taken the hint a while ago. He had previously forgiven his cousin's ex-wife, dismissing her blissful but intentional ignorance. Mari had never been too keen on actual intellectual and corporate matters, for she took far more interest in the money and comfort that came with starting from the bottom and sleeping her way to the top. Despite that, Naoya trusted that she at least had half the mind to not publicly discuss their affair, only for him to be proven wrong in front of none other than...Toji Fushiguro.

"Fuck!" Naoya screamed into the void of his empty living room. His reality was a nightmare as he thought about his despised cousin again—the assured gleam in his viridescent eyes, the smug smirk that tugged across his lips. The imagery soured his mood beyond measure. "I'm going to fucking—"

He did not finish his sentence.

Instead, he kicked a nearby lamp in an angry bout, toppling the fixture over and sending tiny shards cascading across the floor accompanied by the dull thud of the shade. Whatever. His housekeeper tomorrow morning would come in and clean that.

What he instead focused on was how he had never been this infuriated, this belittled, this undignified.

The entire apartment echoed with Naoya's loud huff.

'About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.' These words from Toji affected him more than he would have liked.

What did he mean?

That bastard is bluffing, the blonde had to tell himself, yet even he could not believe in his own consolation.

He needed to do something about this.

No, no, Naoya wasn’t scared.

He couldn’t possibly be, right?!

Yet, after he could feel his ears begin to cool and breathing start to re-regulate, he stared at the emptiness in his halls as he came to the realization that had no better choice but to talk to you.

You didn't want to be here.

The moment you read Naoya Zenin's text to meet up for a 'quick chat' at the café near his office, you already knew that the upcoming conversation was going to be anything but 'quick.' The last thing you wished to do was to be in the same vicinity as that very man again.

After spending the last few days at your family residence, you had been showered with warm attention from aunts, uncles, cousins, and even house attendants who—despite naturally wondering the reason behind your stay—welcomed your visit with open arms. To your relatives' many inquiries, you forged a pretense that all was well even if all was not. (Besides, all did seem well in your family estate, away from the incessant pandemonium that was the Tokyo city center.)

While you knew that this peaceful break was not meant to last forever, you did not anticipate returning to the capital just to sit with the Zenin CEO alone.

Naoya had specifically chosen a corner table in the Hong Kong-inspired establishment, distanced from potential eavesdroppers. He seemed to have been waiting for a while by the time you arrived, his right leg crossed over his left knee as he twiddled with his thumbs impatiently. Sprawled on the table were a freshly brewed pot of jasmine tea and a platter of warm custard pastries.

He remained quiet as you took the seat across from him, observing with a crease on his forehead and a knit to his brows.

Anyone could tell that the blonde was not the least bit happy.

"Giving me dirty looks is not going to get this conversation anywhere," you pointed out while helping yourself to a tart.

From your comment, the inverted slope on Naoya's lips twisted into a deeper frown.

He did not understand where your annoyance came from.

Fine, he never treated you nicely either, but he did not expect you to snap at him when the discussion had hardly begun. You offered him no greetings, and Naoya also took great offense at how you chose not to look at him as you talked.

Truth be told, your neglect reminded him of all the other upsetting things that he was dying to bring up, and your unpleasant attitude whittled away the little restraint he had left.

“You didn’t try to ask where I’ve been. Not one text or call. Guess it would not have mattered to you if I disappeared, huh?" he lashed out through gritted teeth. He hated being forgotten, hated being looked over, and hated how easy it was for him to prove you to be a neglectful and apathetic wife.

Which was why there was no better option than to cut him off.

“You ordered me to leave you alone, Naoya.” Only slightly did you turn your head to glance at him. Stirring sugar into your tea, you kept your attention otherwise on the nearby window and watched businesspeople scurrying about on the streets on their lunch breaks. "You can live without my attention since I'm not the only woman you have around. What happened to your lady friend? Hasn't she been entertaining you long before our marriage? I am sure she would love your company, so why not pay her an impromptu visit?”

From a slanting angle, you could tell that the transformation from your normally calm demeanor dismayed him. Naoya, not you, was typically the one to make snide comebacks, but he could not deny your latest comments. Evidently, he wanted you to go back to your submissive and passive self, but that was precisely what you no longer could be for him.

His silence prompted you to reach into your purse and retrieve a thick manila envelope, and you presented the package on the table.

Naoya's gaze snapped to the parcel.

He was curious, but cautiously so. He had invited you here, expecting to control the narrative, to dictate the terms. As a result, your unexpected move threw him off balance.

"What...?"

“Take a look and find out for yourself.”

A puzzled Naoya demonstrated no hesitation.

He snatched the folder, tearing the top open and greedily grabbing the curated pieces inside. He stared for a long time at the first item: a photo. But he recognized the image of him and his mistress, boarding a private jet for their most recent trip to Mexico. Then, he flipped through the stack rapidly, barely registering each item before he turned to the next. Some were printed-out pictures and others were cutouts from news articles, but all featured him and his paramour. The confusion on Naoya's visage slowly morphed into aggravation, and when he finished his inspection, he forcefully threw the items back onto the table.

In the end, Naoya sat back and went still, not even blinking, thinking, or doing anything but pressing his tongue along his inner cheek. "How did you get these?"

No apologies. No remorse.

Hell, based on his response, the man could not even bother to deny your accusations, a telling sign of how little he could care for his relationship with you. Obviously, you must be a joke to him.

In one firm motion, you placed down your teacup.

"You're missing the point.”

While one's eyes may be the windows to the soul, Naoya's offered nothing in his current state. His pupils looked at—no, examined you in intense dark pools despite the iridescent glow from the lights above.

"Toji gave you these, didn't he?" Naoya continued with a disdainful laugh, himself insistent on getting answers to his own questions. "You can't find this shit on the internet anymore since I've had them all taken down. But Toji's fast. He has eyes everywhere, I know he does. Look at him. Months later, and he's still hung up on reclaiming a position he should've never had the right to in the first place!"

Thankfully, you didn’t flinch from his loud voice. What you did do was become more indifferent as if you were placing a wall to separate yourself from him, mentally bracing for his emotional maelstrom.

"You are missing the point," you said once more. This time, you shook your head in disappointment, and your tone was far more frustrated than the last. "Aren't you shameless?”

"Me? Shameless?!” His brows pinched closer from fury. "Take a look at yourself, woman! What did you do to get all this dirt from Toji and his henchmen, hm? Ha! Know what? I bet it’s because you're so willing to spread yourself for them,” he rambled with a nasty sneer plastered on his expression. At his comments, your jaw fell open before snapping shut as the meaning behind his words sank in. The way this man disregarded how he had an affair (that began many months ago!) only to redirect the spotlight onto you was repulsing, implying that the sole reason the therapists talked to you was that you had slept around. “A whore like you love taking all them all, don’t you? Well? Well? Am I right? Goddamn, you’re such a—”

The harsh scraping from your chair as you stood was what finally interrupted him. Unable to tolerate his vilification, you counteracted his anger with the venom in your rancorous glare.

"How dare you talk about me like that!”

In the meantime, prying eyes started to turn in your direction from the commotion: teenage girls, sharing nervous glances across their table; a lone businessman, stopping mid-sip from his cappuccino; even the barista, pausing mid-grind such that her arm froze inches from the hopper.

"That man...doesn't he seem familiar?" a distant voice asked.

"Is he a celebrity or something?"

"No, wait. He's the person on the cover of last month's Fortune magazine. Naoya Zenin!" another replied.

"Isn't that lady his wife?"

While the onlookers' curious glances turned into full-on stares, their regard steeled your resolve rather than bothered you. Instead, you wanted the crowd to take in the spectacle. Corrupt tricks and dirty money had long painted the Zenin heir as 'the most perfect man in Japan,' and the public deserved to understand the fraudulence and cruelty that underlaid his facade.

"For months, I trusted you. I respected you. I put aside the harrowing loneliness weighing on my heart all because I tried to understand you. You told me that finding the time or energy for our marriage was not easy because board meetings kept you late in the office or business meetings required you to spend several nights abroad. Fine! So, I had been patient. But," and your voice overflowed from anger as you pointed a shaking finger at the pictures on the table, "Taking another woman to Michelin restaurants for dinners? Spending nights with her at Ritz-Carltons and Four Seasons? Going on entire vacations with her across the Pacific? All while you had a wife at home? Are you out of your fucking mind ?!"

The man's nose flared with deep-seated rage, his eyes mirroring the same bitterness in yours. "At the end of the day," he began sternly, "we're still married."

Ridiculous.

“On paper, ” you had to clarify. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be cheating on me with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Immediately, louder murmurs rippled through the crowd. Naoya turned stiff, uncomfortable with the attention. So much for selecting a quiet corner in the café. He wasn’t stupid enough to sense that he had to be careful. Saying one wrong phrase would condemn him to a public meltdown.

However, you were already steps ahead of him when you loudly declared: “I’m filing for a divorce.”

That caught him off guard.

Your announcement even drew audible astonishment from bystanders as they stopped their meals, turning to each other and drawing out their phones.

In literal milliseconds, the vexation once riddling Naoya's demeanor shifted into denial.

“No. We’re not going to talk about a fucking divorce right now. We’re going to fix what we have, and you’re going to come back to me. We’re...We're married for a reason, and we’re going to keep with it!”

"That's a bullshit reason,” you had to snap. “Listen to yourself. Do you hear how selfish you sound!?" At this point, nothing could hide your bafflement. "Naoya, you were the one who said that if I wanted to leave this marriage badly, then I should leave. Ask Mai and Maki! They heard the entire conversation. Didn't you also say that you didn't give a fuck anymore?"

The man attempted to salvage some semblance of control. "I was just joking!"

"No, you were not." Picking up a photo of Naoya and Mari together, you pressed the picture to his face. “How much more can I take? How many days would I still have to go through alone in the penthouse, all because you would be spending your sweet time with the woman that you love?”

Unloading all this emotional baggage, not only for Naoya Zenin but also for the café spectators to hear, took courage. Previously, you would have let the burden gnaw at your soul. You would have rather wallowed in suffering rather than even think about speaking up.

But the past was the past, and you had grown immensely since then. Currently, you were stronger, more confident. You knew that, in Toji's words, you deserved better. Life was too beautiful to waste on a man who did not love or respect you and, with that in mind, you relaxed your clenched fists with an exhausted and fatigued sigh.

You broke me first, you said through a deserted gaze.

Naoya Zenin was the reason why you had become the way you were: a cold, seemingly heartless wife who cared none for her husband. The misery that he placed on your shoulders finally reached its limit, and while you could forgive, forgetting the memories in your scarred heart would be a task over months, years, and even a lifetime.

“Listen,” you began, tone terse, “this divorce will set you free. Mari is the person whom you need—”

“The hell. No!” the man interrupted in a violent outburst, taking your breath away as he slammed the table and hissed. “I don't give a damn about her right now! We’re…We’re over!" he snarled with incredible anger such that he almost appeared to growl. "I don’t need her, I need you! That...That whore doesn't give a flying fuck about my shit! All she cares about is...is...Fuck this. All she wants is the money. Why else do you think she married and then later divorced Toji? She doesn't want to hear about all the shit in my family because she had not been brought up to deal with all the fuckin' drama in my household. She can't understand because, unlike you, she wasn't born with a silver spoon shoved down her goddamn throat!"

Quietly, you absorbed his words, stunned.

So this was how their relationship had been.

You had not expected him to reveal all these entrenched feelings willingly, but his concoction between reckless rage and sheer desperation had allowed him to spill the ugly side of this extramarital affair. Naoya could not afford to lose you, and not just because this marriage solidified the respect of those around him. While Mari offered him an outlet for physical indulgence, only you could offer the cornerstone to Naoya's mental and social fortitude.

“So you ‘need’ me now, but what happens when you find another reason to hate me again? What will you do if you don’t think I can fulfill the role you want me to have as your partner? Or if you wake up one day and suddenly want your cousin’s ex-wife again? Or if you meet another woman? Am I supposed to stand there again, and watch this all happen?"

No answer.

The fact that he couldn't respond hurt.

"My decision is final. Looking back, I despised every single second married to you. In fact, I feel sorry for myself. The fact that I blindly put up with your manipulation, betrayal, and blame for all these months.” With your belongings collected, you prepared to leave. “You would be stupid to think you're the only one with options, you know.”

Only when you turned around did Naoya react, scrambling to his feet.

“What the fuck are you—”

In any other situation, he would have grabbed you, lunged at you, did everything in his power to stop you from going. Yet, given all the witnesses, all he could do was call you back like a helpless child, trying his best to not escalate the scene (although, at this point, even passerbys outside have stopped by the window to spectate).

"Hey!" Naoya called after you. “Hey! I’m still talking with you!”

Pathetic, really, to see him desperately beg for you to stay in his life.

There was a certain satisfaction in finally having the control at your fingertips. The feeling was empowering—electrifying, even—and you became so focused on the gratification that you barely registered Naoya's last question.

“Where are you going?”

At this point, you already stood by the exit.

“That’s not something that my soon-to-be ex-husband would need to know,” and you hardly gave him another glance as the door closed behind you. “Thank you for showing me everything I hope to never find in another man again."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Part of why this update took so long was because I wanted to have an encounter between Naoya and Y/N to showcase Y/N’s development, from someone who thoughtlessly defended her husband to someone who could stand up for herself (all while alone!). I envisioned this interaction many times, and I thought about different ways to approach the scene, the delivery, the dialogue, the choreography, etc. It took me a while to go for what I currently have. Thank you for reading!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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zrreed · 1 year ago

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What is she willing to sacrifice for her freedom? And what is she willing to sacrifice when her freedom isn’t the only thing at stake?

The cover art was done by the amazing @lesly-oh! Check out the full reveal on patreon!

As of January 1, 2024, I'm going to be publishing all future works as Z.R. Reed instead of Zoe Reed. If you're a Goodreads user, follow Z.R. Reed on there to keep up with my new stuff!

#leading aegis #zoe reed #my new book is almost here!#i'm so excited yall

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whorediaries-09 · 1 year ago

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kinkotober masterlist

serving my whores with kinkotber. check out rules and regulations here.

i think you make me a maniac kink- angry sex (number 30 on the event chart) prompt- 'you want gentle? wrong fucking address.' (number 28 on the event chart) request by anon. sirius black x reader.

take another drag; kink- choking (number 12 on the event chart) prompt- n/a dealer!sirius black x reader

keep your body open, kink- breeding (number 6 on the event chart) prompt- 'let me cum in you. please, let me fuck my babies in you.' (number 7 on the event chart) request by anon. harry potter x reader

art deco kink- edging (number 5 on the event chart) prompt- 'keep your hands where they are. or do i need to tie them up?' (number 16 on the event chart) request by anon. sirius black x reader

slow down; kink- overstimulation (number 4 on the event chart) prompt - 'sorry what was that? i can't hear you over all the noises your pretty mouth is making.' (number 8 on the event chart) request by @eternallybipanicking rockstar!sirius black x reader.

too many nights; kink- toys (number 16 on the event chart) prompt- ' love it when you act all controlling like that knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me.' (number 17 on the event chart) request by anon. james potter x reader.

the hills; kink- phone sex (number 32 on the event chart) prompt- use your words (number 12 on the event chart) request by anon. rockstar!sirius black x reader.

mount everest; kink- knifeplay (number 11 on the event chart) prompt- n/a dark!sirius black x reader

new romantics; kink- praise (number 8 on the event chart) prompt- 'you're so fucking hot.' (number 25 on the event chart) remus lupin x reader

oxytocin (series) prologue chapter one; wanna see what you can take chapter two; if you find it hard to swallow, i can loosen up your collar kinks- dubcon, bondage, corruption kink, breeding, oral, degradation. prompts- dark themes, religious imagery. (a few kinks and prompts haven't been listed on the event chart.) dark!sirius black x virgin!reader

love's full of fire kink- dacryphilia (number 3 on the event chart) prompt- n/a sirius black x reader

fall from grace; kink- voyeurism (number 2 on the event chart) prompt- n/a groupie!sirius black x rockstar!reader

#harry potter fanfiction #marauders #harry potter #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #sirius black x reader #the marauders #sirius black imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #marauders era #peter pettigrew #james potter x you #james potter #hp marauders #sirius black #kinkotober

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corruptedcaps · 9 months ago

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MARCH MADNESS!

Hello sports fans! I've wanted to do this for awhile now so I finally decided to bite the bullet, crunch the numbers and run a March Madness, but with a Corrupted Caps twist!

I have created a March Madness bracket of all my most popular stories here on Tumblr and will pit them against each to see which is the most superior Corrupted Cap!

What does the winner get apart from being superior and lording it over the rest of the stories? A Sequel! That's right whatever story ends up victorious will get a brand new chapter.

So without further ado here are the challengers (and links):

32 One Week

31 Wish Upon a Star

30 Filtered

29 Precious Ruby

28 Eco Warrior

27 BFF

26 The Plan

25 The Dress

24 Rotten Apple

23 If the Shoe Fits

22 Expensive Tastes

21 7 Days of Hell

20 A New Generation

19 Brat App

18 A Bad Conscience

17 Return of the Goddess

16 Youth is Wasted on the Young

15 Night Out

14 Fake IDs

13 The Corrupted Queen

12 Possessions

11 Phone Scam

10 Of Corset

9 Distorted

8 Possessive

7 Status Change

6 2 for the price of 1

5 Rebound

4 Suits You

3 Sorority Merger

2 Playing house

1 The Merge

*worth noting that I have not included any stories that already have sequels or are themselves sequels.

Voting will be every day of March. Each vote will include a link to the individual stories in that match up so no need to keep returning to this post but I will pin this post during the duration of the competition.

Finally it is likely that I will not be posting any regular stories during March to avoid confusion.

Hope everyone takes part and has fun! What are you hoping to see take the crown?

#CC march madness #cc2024

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penna-nomen · 8 days ago

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For my fellow White Collar fans looking for distraction today, here are two of my fics that could help. I promise fluff, angst, and happy endings.

Finding it hard to focus? I recommend Across the Street. An AU in which Neal grew up across the street from the Burkes, the early chapters are stand-alone vignettes from Neal's childhood and Peter's teenage years. Later chapters actually string together a plot. 34K words over 19 chapters. Spoilers through season 4, with a romance between Neal's mom and Ellen Parker.

In a mood to hyperfocus on a story? My longest work is Caffrey Disclosure. It's part of the Caffrey Conversation series, but it can be read on its own. This is an AU in which Peter recruited Neal as a consultant in 2003 instead of arresting him. Set in 2004, there's a lot of backstory in Disclosure with Neal's Caffrey relatives and a cousin he feels the need to rescue, plus a case / con involving a corrupt music executive. In other words, Neal and other Caffreys form a band and pretend to be rock stars! 241K words over 45 chapters.

Brain jumping all over the place? I've also got shorter stories on AO3 in 28 fandoms (including White Collar) and some original stories for exchanges, usually around 1500 words. Humor and happy endings abound, and the later stories contain more diversity.

#white collar #fanfic #in case you're craving a distraction #happy reading #find something that soothes your mind

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disposal-blueeee · 10 months ago

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stuff i never finished and why

hello and good night . i'm just gonna ramble about stuff so yeah

swings

oh man i really loved this drawing . but it was a PAIN IN THE ASS .

i had a bunch of problems with this one . i spent an embarrassing amount of time doing the line . then after i started painting it on Ibis paint i realized that i should've done the line with a textured brush .

then the background . i really couldn't make it look nice even if i tried . i spent so long just trying stuff and searching for references but i just couldn't get it right . the colors and the lightning kept looking weird .

and just when it was looking decent , oh no the file is corrupted !!! and if i wanted it back i would have to go through a speedpaint of a drawing that took me 28 hours ( i actually tried it 😭😭 but it was taking so long and after some time the app crashed )

so , i decided to just give up . i was already fed up with it . maybe some day i'll try to redraw it or something

edit : oh wait a second . this drawing makes no sense without the background . edgar looks like that because there's supposed to be a puddle under scriabin's swing and he's trying to get edgar wet with it

otgw x chapter 20 / 21

i just said i loved the other one but THIS ONE . this one is SO PRETTY and i was so excited to try some new brushes and overall just finish this . excited enough to start painting edgar without even finishing scriabin's line .

i was using a small tablet my friend let me borrow . it was actually so helpful because i could draw on my phone with it !! i used to work on this when i was at school .

then i started having problems with the background . again

then my friend told me that his mom didn't agree with him giving me the tablet and that he should give it to his sister instead so i had to give it back . great . at that point i didn't feel like finishing it so

random reference i found in pinterest

this is like a month old maybe ???? i just thought " oh this would be such a fire pfp " and after finishing the sketch i was like " alright i'll finish this tomorrow " ( i never finished it )

mostly didn't finish it because i didn't have any idea to make it look lifeless and tragic . oh well . maybe i'll try it someday i still think it's cool

papa's cheeseria

this one isn't really unfinished . i just wanted to make a doodle sheet but never drew anything else so now he's just there . alone in a blank space . poor guy .

so yeah . everytime i play papa louie's games i always make the workers look like edgar and scriabin . i thought this default outfit looked pretty cool so so i had to draw it

#there's probably more stuff to add here but i lost a bunch of files when i changed my pc :((#also i have another one i really wanted to add but it's oc related so so nope #i tried so hard with the swings one but after some time i just felt like the drawing expired ?????? somehow #like that just wasn't how i used to draw anymore . so i just gave up #the same thing happened with the otgw x 20 / 21 one and it makes me so SAD #i don't even know how that one popped in my head .#one day i just remembered over the garden wall existed thanks to a friend posting some art about it #and idk i just had to draw them like wirt and greg #anyways back to rambling about my life woohoo #i'm i'm doing so bad rn #but let's pretend i'm not . alright #this year will be tough .#vargas #vargas zarla #scriabin vargas #zarla s #edgar vargas #sunny's rambles #sunny's art

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sweet-old-hereafter · 4 months ago

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The Primus Game: Prologue

Coming soon on Ao3

I swear this is a nomae fic, writing an ape bible is just easier than exposition

In the age of old, apes did prosper under the reign of our Caesar, and Caesar created our Law.

Primus 1:28, The Sacred Scrolls

When came the mighty flood; it scattered our people across the land where we could not find eachother. It was the undoing of our bonds; it was the bleeding of our lifeblood.

Primus 7:23, The Sacred Scrolls

He who was the last Scion of Caesar of the Coast did declare to gather the sundered; and so He did.

And so the Scion led His people from their wastelands and said; This land shall be my land, this land shall be your land, and who transgresses upon our land transgresses upon us all, and who fails to serve their land fails us all.

Before you I have set twelve portions of this land, divided in practice but united in purpose, and I shall call this land a Kingdom, and we shall call this Kingdom Pacifica, and the Coastal City, home of the Scion, shall be its Capital.

Dynasties 22-24:13, The Sacred Scrolls

Echoes are lesser apes who survive only under the guidance of the Great Ones. Each Clan shall be supplied with their own flock of Echoes, and they will be utilized to carry out tasks designated as unfit for our Kind.

Beware the Echo who can speak; for they are a mimicry who can only espouse lies, and their word foretells the downfall of our Kind.

Proxies 2-3:1, The Sacred Scrolls

Once a year, each Clan is to pay Tribute to its Capital in the form of an Echo, and this Echo will represent them in a bloodsport in the Coastal City. The Echo who falls last shall bless their Clan in riches for the next year.

Proxies 5:16, The Sacred Scrolls

In the Darkest Chapter, ape turned against ape. And the Scion of the Scion before him, our King Proximus Caesar, saw that in the time of our separation they were corrupted, and when those who strayed from the land of our inheritance returned, they returned Changed. This Change would never fully be reversed. We could only hope to quell it through the purging of blood.

Absolution 1:18, The Sacred Scrolls

Each Clan is now required to pay Tribute in the form of one Echo and one of their own, and these Tributes will fight to the death against twenty-two other Tributes in what shall henceforth be known as the Primus Game. We as the Representatives of our Clans agree to honor this along with other provisions listed above to atone for our transgression against our Coast and our Kingdom.

Article XVI, The Treaty of Treason

#noa x mae #nomae #mae x noa #mae kotpota #noa kotpota #nomae fanfiction

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nicosraf · 6 months ago

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Hi Rafa!

Back again in your inbox and I have what’s probably a silly question but I am nothing but silly and goofy so I’ll ask anyway

I was thinking about yk the verious depictions of lucifer (as every sane and normal person does) and it got me wondering onwhat made you decide to characterise Lucifer the way you did, mainly because usually in modern media he’s very much seen as a anti-hero and mostly he’s seen as a good (-ish) guy that didn’t do too much wrong, the rebellion is usually very much written off as something akin to teenage rebellion and God is just seen as a disappointed parent that had no other choice but teach a lesson to his kids (and well that is of course because gods forbid someone sees God as anything less than the perfect father but I digress), for example the Lucifer series does this and in part too hazbin hotel.

And idk it was refreshing to see your read of Lucifer, he starts good and very much kidlike and then his wonder and love become corrupt I’d say, I struggle to call him evil because well for one I have what could be considered too much sympathy for him and I understand him, he was set up to fail in a lot of ways. So I guess I just wonder what made you say “no I’m going to keep the “bad” and “evil” that is in him”

(I am aware that the answer is probably just well he’s like that in most classical depictions but idk I want to hear you ramble about Luci and his development because that’s always interesting and I love it ajdhsh)

Sorry for the confused ramble anyway lots of love from Italy <3

-J :)

Hello! This is a dangerous question!! I have many many essays I'd love to write about the depiction of Lucifer in media and about what eventually led me to making Lucifer like that. It's also fresh in my mind right now because I saw that Lucifer Hazbin Hotel episode recently. (I actually don't have a ton of thoughts on Hazbin Lucifer. He is very cute, but Hazbin isn't trying to be theological I think; it's just having fun with the mythology.)

I would say that societal depictions of Lucifer always mirror a lot of the way that society has come to understand not the devil, but God, parent-child relationships, authority, tradition, and so on. Some people think Paradise Lost was the first to make Lucifer a hero, but it's actually very clear that Milton wanted his flaws to outweigh the good things, to make Satan ultimately a bad person, and to justify God's actions to us.

Like 200 years later, William Blake started saying that Paradise Lost was pro-Lucifer, though by accident: "Milton was of the Devil's party without knowing it." But Blake lives in a very different time, during the French and American revolutions and the industrial revolution. Old traditions and empire are getting shaken up, the story of Lucifer looks a lot more heroic.

I won't get too much into how Satanic panic affected things (or even the rise of anti-theist communist regimes!), though I think the Satanic panic of the 90s really exacerbated Lucifer's connection to teenage rebellion. (Also, I'm focusing on the US because of how much their media is exported and influences other countries).

But so then we got the modern Lucifer I used to see quite a bit — suave, night club owning, slutty, probably referenced bisexual, manipulator of women. I always thought this development was kind of strange. It's almost like what Blake did to Milton's Lucifer; we didn't change how the people before us thought of him, we just decided that the Lucifer we're supposed to hate is actually super cool.

But I was not super compelled by this Lucifer. And I reference these lines a lot, but the idea of Satan in Western Christianity came from several passages from the Bible, one of which is Ezekiel 28, and I was really struck with line 14: “You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till wickedness was found in you," as well as the multiple times the chapter stresses that the cherub of Eden fell because of his corrupting beauty above all.

I realized I never really saw "blameless" Lucifer, innocent Lucifer. In a lot of interpretations, he's just sort of born wrong or always a little Evil. But the lines say that he was innocent once, and I got really caught up in that. I thought of God watching Lucifer be beautiful and innocent in all that time (like a voyeur).

It felt like the next step in Lucifer's development to take the child-parent relationship between him and God and make it ugly. (Though sticking with the dichotomy of good vs evil didn't really work for me. Lucifer isn't good but he's not evil either, and the weird love and hate mixture is what brings him closer to how God is, too (to me)).

We live in a day and age where all authority is being critiqued, where we don't laugh at teenage rebellion as much. I mean, if you watch any recent Disney movie, you'll see parents learning from their children to stop the cycle of generational abuse. And, of course, with Lucifer becoming so associated with queerness (Lil Nas' MONTERO for example), the framing that he's just a metaphor for a teen rebel who will one day realize his dad was right... falls apart. Lots of teens kicked out of their house for being gay are grown up now and making shows/movies/etc.,. And I think it's always better not to shy away from trauma victims being imperfect and, occasionally, cruel.

So. yeah! I've always been surprised that Lucifer as an imperfect victim of parental abuse, running away, taking some of his sibling with him, isn't more common in general.

#i may not be making sense rn #mine #ask

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majnoonathelibrarian · 2 months ago

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Writer's Guide Presents: Good Works Chapter 9: The Best Way Out is Always Through

Good Works Written by Majnoona

TW/CW: depressing historically accurate homophobia, messy cookie eating

Rating E for future chapters. These will be (skippable) self contained sections. Tags will be added as we get there, as well as per chapter warnings.

Summary:

It's 1987 London and anti-gay sentiment is on the rise ahead of the government's push to pass Section 28 to prohibited the "promotion of homosexuality" by local authorities -- including banning books and education in schools.

Why do Fell, low level government administrator caught up in an environmental corruption scandal, and Crowley, a "fixer" for a nefarious consulting company and reluctant queer community organiser, keep running into each other -- quite literally? Is it just romantic fate bringing together two middle aged "confirmed bachelors" who thought it was too late to find love, or is there some other connection? Can they figure it out? (Are they sure they want to?)

Chapter Excerpt:

The overflowing pile of files that covered his side of the shared desk was almost a welcome sight. He could lose himself in work. He didn’t need to think about anything else for a time. There had been entirely too much thinking happening the last few days. And now a tiny seed of an idea had germinated and was unfurling its way towards the sunlight, but it wouldn’t be rushed. Best not to poke at it too much.

He hung his coat on the rack, grimacing when the oversized sticking plaster across his palm pulled against his skin, and settled into sorting priorities.

He was head down, squinting at some poorly duplicated text when the precarious pile tipped over, spilling into a manila avalanche. Aziraphale scrambled to catch loose papers before they became separated from their folders.

“You’re to do these. Needed ASAP. Orders from above.” The dull monotonous voice was immediately recognisable and irritating even before Aziraphale was able to sit properly back up and catch sight of the hulking, shiny-headed shape of his least liked colleague. Elijah Sandalphon wore an ill-fitting tan suit the colour of cigarette smoke stain and neon chartreuse tie along with his customary dull sneer.

He had shoved aside the files, which Aziraphale had spent the morning organising into neat stacks (arranged by subject matter and priority), in order to dump an assortment of folders, spiral bound collections, and a few fat envelopes in the same space.

“What’s all this?” Aziraphale spluttered, nudging a few precarious items safely back from the edge. “I wasn’t informed about any–”

“You weren’t here.” Sandalphon said with all the emotional emphasis of a bag of sand landing on wet ground.

“I had to call in sick yesterday.” Aziraphale had awoken from uneasy sleep feeling terribly under the weather on Sunday – like the start of a bad flu with sudden moments of exhaustion, body aches, and a sore throat. Monday morning he had been forced to call in sick, but by the afternoon – after copious amounts of tea with honey, a bubble bath, and avgolemono soup delivered hot from the Greek restaurant two blocks away – he started finally feeling himself again.

“You weren’t here,” Sandalphon repeated in the same mind-numbingly dull tone. “No one else wants to deal with it and you–.”

“–weren’t here,” Aziraphale finished for him. “Yes, now it’s very clear. Thank you. I will see what I am able to get to.”

“A-sap.” Sandalphon spat as walked away, irritatingly leaving the door ajar.

Continue reading on AO3

Or start from Chapter 1 - The 24 Hour Print Shop, July 1987

Special thanks for another great beta read by Master of Em-Dashes : On1occasionfork

@goodomensafterdark @on1occasionfork

#good omens #fanfiction recommendation #writers of after dark #writers guild presents #fanfiction

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abhainnwhump · 1 year ago

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I'll Make You Mine Masterlist

Read on Wattpad and AO3

NIGHTMARE is a sadistic bastard, that's just a fact. His goal is to corrupt Dream's soul and prevent the Doodlesphere from feeling positive emotions ever again. He has a new plan to do it. His brother is smart enough to know his games, but one of his friends isn't.

INK doesn't know what to think of the letter on his nightstand. It only added onto the strange missing things and nightmares he's been having. Was Nightmare asking him on a date? Pfft, that was ridiculous, there was no way- wait. When did he get so pretty? When did Nightmare get so perfect?

DREAM has the hope of the entire multiverse in his hands. With their best friend and Protector of the Doodlesphere missing, they have to do both Ink's job and their own, along with making sure no one else goes missing. He's stressed and exhausted, but he can't rest now. Come on Dream, stay . . . awake . . .

Content warnings:

- Abusive Inkmare

- Gore

- Graphic body horror

- Medical experimentation without anesthesia; we die like half the characters in this story.

- Physical and psychological torture

- Traumatic events

- HEAVY brainwashing/conditioning

- Stockholm Syndrome/Lima Syndrome

- Dehumanization/objectification

- Major character deaths

- Specific warnings I will put on the chapters that need them.

Chapters:

1. Sadistic Experiment: Nightmare

2. High on Sweetness: Ink

3. The Puppeteer's Warning: Nightmare

4. Nightmares Don't Mean Anything: Ink

5. Last Minute Preparations: Nightmare

6. Let's Get This Over With: Ink

7. Should've Could've Would've: Dream

8. Lure into the Darkness: Nightmare

9. True Colors . . . Or Lack Of: Ink

10. Every Action has Consequence: Dream

11. Perfect Backup: Nightmare

12. Make Me Your Masterpiece: Ink

13. Killer's Twisted Surprise: Dream

14. Behavior Modification: Nightmare

15. Toys Don't Talk: Ink

16. Candy Corruption: Dream

17. The Battle for Birdtale: Nightmare

18. Guardian of Nothing: Ribbon

19. Rainbows Over Shadows: Dream

20. Stitch by Stitch: Nightmare

21. Welcome to the Show: Ribbon

22. Mind Sickness: Dream

23. No More Denial: Nightmare

24. A Night to Remember: Ribbon

25. The Final Star Sans Standing: Dream

26. Backstabbing Crash: Nightmare

27. I Can Fix Him: Ribbon

28. New Ally New Plan: Dream

29. For Our Future: Nightmare

30. Captive to Queen: Ribbon

31. Into the Castle of Night: Dream

32. Restore the Balance: Nightmare

33. Better Late than Never: Ribbon

34. A Darker Lie: Dream

35. Heart Made of Lead: Nightmare

36. Pastel Redesign: Ribbon

37. Nightmare's Labyrinth: Dream?

38: Final note

Art:

Ribbon's (Doll!Ink) Reference Sheet

Human Ribbon Reference Sketch

Ribbon Apology Doodles

Azurem's Ribbon Art

Shadorio's Ribbon Art

Azurem's Ribbon + Blossom Art

Azurem's Chapter 20 Ribbon Art

Depravitycorner's Ribbon + Blossom Art

Shadorio's "Nightmare Throwing Error off a Balcony in Chapter 24" Art

Azurem's Human Ribbon Art

Artisticauras' Ribbon Art

Artisticauras' Ribbon Profile Pic

Inkedartdragons' Ribbon and FTFO Ink Art

KK_TheAnimator's Ribbon and Nightmare Art on Twitter

Shipanhookq's 'Better than This' Oneshot

Related Asks:

Prompt: Killer wants to hang out with Cross (canon, takes place between chapters 31 and 33)

Prompt: Nightmare is a racist

Prompt: Nightmare misgenders Ink

Prompt: Nightmare misgenders Ink: Electric Boogaloo

Prompt: Nightmare misgenders Ink: The Empire Strikes Back

Prompt: Nightmare misgenders Ink: Ribbon officially becomes goth

Prompt: Nightmare misgenders Ink: Separate the Star Sanses

Prompt: Nightmare tortures Ink and becomes ableist

Prompt: What if Ink asked for help with the letter back in Chapter 4?

Prompt: Dream is 110% Done with Nightmare's Shenanigans.

Prompt: Nightmare Surrenders for Ribbon

Prompt: Possible Cross x Killer x Dream

Prompt: Possible Cross x Killer x Dream 2: Dream is Pissed off

Splatoon Classes

Ribbon's Favorite Song

Headcanon: Ribbon's Seasonal Outfits

Ribbon + Blossom take over Wattpad

Nightmare's Villain Song

No Hope for Ink

Ribbon's Birthday

Chapter 37's Inspiration

Clarification on Ribbon's Happiness

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agendabymooner · 1 year ago

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melody || lh44 x ofc (2)

Summary: With her sharp eyes focused on her audience, a burlesque performer who went under the name of Melody returned to Rythme Romantique, an entertainment lounge which exclusively caters to the wealthiest people of Monaco — or in this case, to the people with a status that are recognized by all. Her three exclusive performances were meant to be a closure for her connections in the principality. Still, a certain Formula One driver saw it as an opportunity to reconnect with his former flame after two years of her absence. Felicity Vos learned that this was a rich man’s world and that he could do whatever he wanted, but she also realized that the agreement they settled on years ago was corrupted the moment he expressed his love for her.

Chapter summary: Melody might've been what they expected, but Felicity was what they got. OR Felicity Vos attended the Monaco GP qualifying day that ended up with Melody asking Lewis Hamilton about the true intentions of his visits.

Content warning: Age gap, use of explicit language, refers to smut (nothing graphic nor mature), mentions of past sugar daddy/baby relationships, no beta - we read poorly, possessive!asshole!Lewis mentioned, burlesque (2010) movie vibes, fictional ex (Penny Brooke), angst

Note: Here's something before I start updating my masterlist :'] enjoy xx (ALSO NOTE: character directory is now available from my masterlist hehe)

masterlist

ii. this is what makes us girls

"we all look for heaven and we put love first."

THE FAST LANE DAILY

BURLESQUE PERFORMER MELODY MAKES SURPRISE APPEARANCE AT MONACO GRAND PRIX, SPARKS SPECULATION

Monaco - The glitz and glamour of the Monaco Grand Prix took an unexpected turn when renowned burlesque performer Felicity Vos, known by her stage name Melody, made a surprise appearance at the F1 paddock during the Qualifying race. The 28-year-old artist, absent from the racing scene for two years following her breakup with F1 driver Lewis Hamilton, left fans and spectators wondering about her sudden return.

Melody, whose full name was revealed after her highly publicized split with Hamilton, had been a prominent figure during their relationship. Speculations arose that their breakup might have been influenced by the events surrounding the controversial 2021 Abu Dhabi race and rumours of Hamilton being seen with another woman shortly after. However, the true reason behind their separation remains unknown.

Coinciding with her three-night performances at the exclusive entertainment lounge, Rythme Romantique, in Monte Carlo, Melody's appearance at the Monaco GP attracted attention from both fans and fellow drivers. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc were spotted entering the venue, leading to speculation that they were there to support Melody, whom they had not had the chance to watch perform during her relationship with Hamilton.

Melody's last public performance before her breakup was an impromptu rendition of Christina Aguilera's "Candyman" after the race in Silverstone in 2020. The incident garnered significant attention from fans and ultimately led to her final performance in Monaco before the split in 2021.

Surprising everyone, Melody was discovered in the paddock as a Mercedes and Lewis Hamilton’s guest. This unexpected reunion has fueled rumours of a potential reconciliation between the two, especially considering Melody's two-year absence from social media and her reported performances in exclusive venues across Switzerland, the United States, and France.

While some outlets have reported on Melody's performances in various locations, her appearances at Rythme Romantique were the only confirmed shows during her hiatus. The sudden appearance at the Monaco Grand Prix has left fans eagerly awaiting further updates on her career and personal life.

As the Monaco Grand Prix continues, all eyes remain on Melody and her unexpected return to the racing world. Whether this signifies a rekindling of her relationship with Lewis Hamilton or simply a triumphant comeback to the stage, one thing is certain: Melody's presence has injected an extra dose of excitement into the already thrilling atmosphere of the prestigious event.

Her blazer should have been removed when she left René’s Mercedes E-Class, but her nerves were getting in the way of her ability to think straight. She had been staring at the same thing for a minute before her new friend pulled her out of the vehicle, telling her that they had to leave so René could drive back to the lounge.

The server from her former employer’s lounge was a welcome face if you were to ask Felicity. She hadn’t met her before, mainly because she hadn’t been there since leaving for Lewis. That and her final performance in 2020.

Esther Edison was an employee of Rythme Romantique for over a year only. From what Felicity had learned, Esther was four years her junior. She had recently moved to Monaco hoping to get her master's at the private university in the principality— all while working at the lounge to earn enough money to live on. Living in Monaco wasn’t expensive, after all.

Felicity immediately took her in as a friend and acted as if she was a mentor — telling Esther everything about her experience living in Monaco at the ripe age of twenty and giving her tips, such as which stall at the farmer’s market had the best prices and quality. She’d only met Esther yesterday, and now they’re attending the Grand Prix together. René would have come along had it been that he ran the lounge on behalf of Lita, the owner.

Esther knew Felicity before the woman in question arrived in Monaco. Well… she already knew who Melody was and her significance in Monaco’s exclusive lounge. But her extensive knowledge was discovered when people spoke about their excitement for the one who broke Lewis Hamilton’s heart — the hottest topic of Monaco. Esther learned about Melody’s connections to the well-acknowledged racing event in Monaco after a customer asked her if Melody would make it to the race. She had to approach René to ask about the matter, to which René rolled his eyes at the idiocy of the man who asked and told the girl to shrug off such questions.

So to be friends with Felicity was an honour. It wasn’t every day that she gets trusted with information that no one knew about— especially how Felicity’s relationship with Lewis was meant to be financially beneficial only, but with a hint of intimacy. It was information that no one knew but René and Felicity, so it was natural for Esther to keep her mouth shut about the matter as it was meant to be a past affair.

Esther could understand why Felicity hadn’t wanted to attend the race. Everyone knew who she was in this stupid place — Monaco was small, and everyone knew everyone. Felicity was a part of the 1% that wasn’t recognized until Lewis Hamilton decided to put her into the limelight.

She wasn’t used to the fame he had, preferring to play the feeble and shy girlfriend while he had his arm around her. But now Felicity had no one but Esther. She didn’t have Lewis. She didn’t have anyone to protect her while she played the role of a good loyal girlfriend.

Esther could tell that Felicity still didn’t feel as comfortable with having cameras shoved on her face as she did back then. But Felicity’s expression didn’t give it away, not wanting to give journalists the pleasure of writing about her vulnerability as she entered Lewis’ realms once again.

Her blazer was long discarded, her gold necklace wrapped around her neck while the lanyard of her paddock pass screamed her importance to this race weekend’s competitor. Felicity would often lean over to talk to Esther. At the same time, she’d show indifference at the cameras pointed at them, telling the younger woman how everything operated during the weekend.

The performer could just tell that there will be certain gossip websites and social media accounts that would talk about the lack of brand on her body. They would certainly talk about how she wore a jumpsuit that came straight from Zara and how her red half crest shaped handbag came from some Kate Spade outlet store from the 2018 collection — and how she’d still have the audacity to wear it still to this day. Being Lewis Hamilton’s other half taught her about the disappointment that the media — British media especially — would express towards the middle class woman clinging to his arm. Nobody liked the quiet girl who didn’t care to answer their provoking questions. They certainly didn’t like how her confidence evolved as much as her outfits did the moment Lewis had hired a stylist/personal shopper for her.

So, really, she could just exist for doing fuck knows what and they’d still write something so condescending about her. There was no point of appeasing them when they’ve already made up their minds about her existence.

They eventually found themselves inside the paddock area. Esther certainly noticed the looks people gave them, but mainly to her company. Felicity had noticed, too but decided to get a refresher rather than comment. She’d been looked at so much today that it was too late for her to speak about it.

“I understand why you’d dressed up like this,” Esther chuckled quietly as she gestured at her outfit and Felicity’s, her hand moving towards her Shirley Temple as she sipped on it. Esther wore a cream airy top and a pleated black knit skirt, her feet heightened by a pair of silver kitten heels and her gold hoops shining under her jet black bob. Her fingers were shining due to the gold rings wrapped around each of them. She then continued on, “These people can stare and come to their own conclusions fast.”

Felicity had to laugh at that. “That they can,” she agreed while her eyes glanced up at the people in the paddock. “They can tell the difference between wealthy people and those who can act like they’re well-off. They won’t tell you how but they just know.”

“You survived two years of this,” Esther scoffed, “I don’t know how I’d be able to.”

The performer merely shrugged as she sipped on her virgin margarita, “I performed in front of wealthy people for four years before him— I knew the type and somehow managed to mimic their appearance. The hard part about pretending was the lack of material to use as a prop.”

“He practically handed that to you,” Esther pointed out, to which Felicity nodded. “I hardly think you pretended.”

“How so?” The blonde was curious. Nobody ever made any form of observation about her — not even Lewis himself. He hadn’t cared enough to tell her everything he noticed, she supposed.

Esther shrugged before setting her drink down, “You acted more naturally wearing those clothes— I’ve seen the photos— and you looked as if you’re born into those clothes and jewelries he bought. You said that you know the type. And of course you do, it’s because you were living her life. But… I suppose you were more into the music and dancing than you were into the costumes and gems that you wore on stage. Maybe that’s why you said you pretend.”

Felicity listened to whatever it was that Esther said, almost as if she was nodding to herself as she recalled everything that had to do with her relationship with Lewis. Wearing those things never felt right despite looking great in them, but it was only because they were all handed to her as if they’re grand gestures— not something done spontaneously. She looked great in those costumes that were tailored for her, but she never cared about them while she was performing in front of a live audience. She could get lost in the music and the 4/4 beats while she was being stripped naked, for all she knew.

But not once did she ever care about how she acted or what she wore while she got lost in the rhythm. She only found herself feeling more conscious about her being whenever her happiness drifted away from her heart. She couldn’t pretend in front of Lewis either as she got lost in his eyes and presence, not caring about what others thought of her while he was singing her praises and admiration.

So no, she wasn’t pretending to be one of them, really. She could only feel like it whenever her doubts and insecurities would take over her euphoric senses while those things that she loved the most were long gone.

“You’re the only one who saw a lot,” Felicity told Esther with a grin, leaving the server to cock her head in confusion as the singer went on, “you saw more things about me than he did. It’s amazing.”

“That’s men for you,” Esther scoffed haughtily, now stirring her drink as she continued, “the only thing they see in you is the part that they’ve already branded. They only see themselves in you.”

Peering down on her watch, Felicity hissed quietly in annoyance as she looked at the younger woman, “We’ve three hours before the qualifying. Would you like to walk around and know more about the place? I can also tell you some gossip that I’ve learned about the drivers and other crew members two years ago.”

“Shit, you have those?” Esther’s eyes lit up in excitement as Felicity smirked and nodded. “Hell yes. Wait— are you okay with it? Talking to the drivers and all?”

“Who said anything about talking to the drivers,” Felicity stood as she chuckled, “if there’s anything that I’ve enjoyed about being silent it would be the amount of stories I can hear from people who talk loud. You can’t hear detailed gossip from a person when you’re around a chatty crowd, can you?”

Their trip around the paddock and other areas was something of an adventure. Felicity was glad to have Esther as a companion, seeing as she had some things to talk about that had nothing to do with the lounge. René would often discuss the lounge as much as he could with Felicity and she didn’t want anything that had to do with that as of this moment. Too much had happened last night at that place; a change of scenery was what she longed for regardless of the fact that the track was her ex-lover’s territory.

Then their trip as a duo was interrupted by an Australian man who had the widest grin on his face. Daniel Ricciardo came across Felicity and Esther and he hadn’t let go of them since. Esther laughed at Felicity’s indifferent remarks, enjoying the presence of Ricciardo. Felicity didn’t mind Daniel; she was just annoyed by the fact that she couldn’t even walk a few feet away from him without being called “Candygirl” aloud and catching the attention of the people around them. It didn’t help that he would reenact her swing dance moves to relive her wild act, either.

How he didn’t have a seat in the grid baffled Felicity to no end. Felicity knew how good of a driver he was, so to be left without any seat by McLaren was a shame.

She knew that there was something about Zak Brown that screamed wrong. She didn’t know that sacking Daniel Ricciardo was what he did wrong.

Regardless— Daniel’s role as a reserved driver also gave him more time to spend with the woman that he now declared as his friend. For the past hour, he’d been confirming Felicity’s gossip and would often extend more to the rumours that circulated in the grid.

“He had an affair was what they said,” Daniel’s eyes widened while he subtly cocked his head towards the direction of the person they were speaking of. “Something told me that he goes to therapy though. No one could be that happy after getting laid— have you seen his fucking face? That’s antidepressants, if anything.”

But their tour around the pits ended when they came across the Mercedes hospitality. George Russell had gotten a glimpse of Daniel when he stepped out and immediately yelled, “Oi, Ricciardo! Spying again, are we?”

“You fuckin’ wish, lad,” Daniel scoffed before gesturing towards the two women with him, making George turn and his mouth gaped at the sight. Yeah, he’d seen her yesterday and was one of the bastards who got scared of her aura. Esther nearly laughed at the reaction. “I’ve two women who are expecting their welcome gifts from Mercedes but it turns out that you lots are shit at being hosts.”

George had immediately spoken up, “Oh… shit. Yes, sorry. Angela’s been telling us about contacting—“

Turning at Felicity with a sheepish smile, George then gestured, “I’ll take you to Angela. Really sorry about that. She mentioned something about calling you but clearly nothing worked.”

Felicity didn’t show any signs of being annoyed at his constant apologizing as she waved it off, offering Daniel a quick nod as she said, “Thank you for the tour, Ricciardo. Had to recall everything m’self but you’ve been a helpful lad.”

“Anything for Miss Candy herself,” Daniel winked.

Felicity rolled her eyes, nudging Esther when she heard a giggle before they both stalked off, following the British man towards the Mercedes garage as he prepped for the day.

There, she hadn’t warned Esther about the possibilities of coming across the man who sat in the corner booth all night while Melody was on the stage. Felicity hadn’t told Esther about the vulnerability she might show as they both come across the man who destroyed one too many possibilities of accepting the words of love and admiration that would be passed down to her in the future. Felicity hadn’t told her new friend about not being able to trust any man after she found him in their bed in Monaco with a woman that wasn’t her.

If she had, Esther would be in for a wild weekend. God knows she’d be able to react to that— seeing as she already had gotten a gist of their relationship through some news outlets from Britain and elsewhere in Europe.

As if they were summoning him, Lewis Hamilton managed to find Felicity as he walked towards his pit area with nothing but confidence in his system — not even catching a glimpse of her until she turned around, her eyes trained at his own pair before he froze in his tracks.

So much for avoiding drama.

“Honey,” Lewis uttered her name like it was familiar. She almost shuddered. Being called by Mel was one thing but being referred to as Honey was another.

He always told her that she was sweet like honey. It doesn’t help that your body is just as sweet as the noises you make, he praised her more than twice.

“Hamilton,” Felicity addressed him, face still showing little to no emotion as she introduced her friend, “this is Esther. Este, this is Hamilton.”

Lewis wanted to cringe so bad. He never was Hamilton to her. He was always Lewis or Darling. In some cases, he was also Sir. Nobody used his surname more than his father did. He didn’t want Melody— or wait, Felicity to use that on him.

He still continued to shake Esther’s outstretched hand, regardless, giving her a polite smile and a murmur of, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Then he continued to look at Felicity as if she was the only woman to have existed today. “I hadn’t expected you to come.”

“You’d still be in the lounge tonight if I didn’t go, regardless,” Felicity told him as if he was a bother to her, “so there’s really no winning.” He never was bothering her. She was always fond of his company, without the money or not. She always craved his attention especially when the abrupt end of her job gave her more time to spend with nothing but fuck all. She always found a way to get his attention and his time. So for her to express her feelings like this… yeah… this was all Lewis’ doings.

“Right, I will be,” Lewis nodded before he rested his helmet on his hip, looking down at her clothes before he peered up at her. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I bet,” Esther scoffed quietly. For someone so polite, Esther was sure she already didn’t like him. Was it because of the stories she had heard, Esther couldn’t tell. There was something about him that she couldn’t simply shake off.

A call of his name had them all turning towards the entrance, a hint of blonde popping out as his physiologist stepped out of the garage. “You have to go.”

“Ang, I’m still talking to—“ Lewis gestured to Felicity and her friend but Angela Cullen wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“You can still see them later,” Angela insisted, before she smiled at Felicity. “You’re looking beautiful as ever, City— Lewis has to go, though. Come on now! Don’t be stupid!”

“On it,” Lewis grunted before he gave Felicity a genuine smile, “Will I see you later? Mel?”

Felicity stared at him for a moment. He wasn’t making it easier for her to just move on. He was pushing his fucking luck.

But she nodded regardless before she offered him a quick, “Good luck, Hamilton.”

Lewis walked away from the two with an unsettling feeling. He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up feeling that way, but he was certain that being called Hamilton all while her face showed indifference and uninterest did a lot of things in his body that made him wish for more. Was this what she felt whenever he’d shake her off after she asked for his attention? Was this how they drifted apart in the first place?

Their Mercedes hospitality experience should have been more pleasant, but it wasn’t even halfway through the qualifying when a hint of dirty blonde hair sat herself next to Felicity while requesting a cocktail.

Penny Brooke was an American model, and if there was anything she was also known for (at least to Felicity’s knowledge) she was the reason why Felicity had proven to herself that Lewis Hamilton wasn’t as true to his words as he sounded. After all, the performer had seen her and Lewis at the bed and on some gossip website after his defeat in Abu Dhabi.

Now she sat there with every single Fendi and Bottega Veneta she probably could’ve gotten her hands on. She smirked at the performer’s direction like it was either practiced or was something that showed her happiness.

Felicity didn’t blame her; she remembered the first time she had gotten her hands on a Chanel bag — one that came straight from her pocket. She still proudly displayed it on her closet, to this day. She’d show a logo if she couldn’t afford the subtle luxuries.

Still, the next thing that followed her entrance almost had Felicity pitying her. Two years and she still wouldn’t let go of the five minutes of fame she’d gained from being Hamilton’s thing.

“Still can’t afford Westwood without Lew?” Penny giggled. Felicity hadn’t looked at her yet her eyes rolled at the annoying tone of her voice. The bartender’s eyes narrowed a little bit before he settled the glass of strawberry Italian soda in front of Felicity. “The sales rack clearly isn’t cutting it, no?”

Felicity sipped on her drink before she replied, “‘s much as your low-level dignity isn’t.” She sent a quick smile in Penny’s direction before she turned back at the shelf in front of her. “I might be as poor as one can be but then again, decorum isn’t something you can buy with money… or fame for that matter.”

She then added, “Not that you would know.”

Penny was relentless. She continued on, “I’m surprised you’ve managed to find your way around the paddock. Those pictures of you from back then clearly showed how clueless you are about everything in here. Don’t tell me you’ve a tour guide, too?”

“I lived in Monaco, darling,” Felicity murmured, her voice enough for the woman next to her to hear, “I know which street I’d most likely be mugged in and which man would like to take me on a ride around Monte-Carlo. There’s really no tour guide needed.”

“How’s it like coming back?” Penny asked. Her questions and everything that she was saying were nothing of a genuine interest and Felicity could tell that the American was trying to rile her up. It wasn’t working. “I heard you had a sold out crowd last night.”

“I’m surprised you’re hearing well.” Not well enough to not pick up the ‘fuck off’ tone of my voice, Felicity almost scoffed. “Well yes, that’s what happens when you’re famous.”

“And when you’re famous because you were a Formula One driver’s unlabelled whore for two years straight,” Penny giggled, sipping on the cocktail that was then served to her. Felicity’s ears tinged with irritation as she hadn’t given Penny a glance, her eyes now settled at the second round of the qualifying race. Lewis was still at the top three, and the woman next to her was trying to chat her ears off about him. How did she even manage to find her way back here? Was she invited by him, too? At the only time Felicity would ever make her presence known to the paddock? Seriously, Hamilton.

“Whore is too generous,” Felicity bit back, “but I supposed it’s better than tainting his image as a loyal partner, don’t you think so?”

She knew better than defending herself to someone who didn’t know half the story. What mattered was that Felicity and Lewis knew the entire truth.

Felicity hadn’t even shared a bed with him until their fifth month together— she could remember that all too well.

It was at the Canadian Grand Prix, when she had a spat with her mother who hadn’t seen her for four years. Her mother expressed her disappointment over the stories that she’d been hearing from other relatives and friends about Melody’s public relationship with Lewis. She cried too much that night after hearing her mother state that she hadn’t given birth to a pitiful girl whose body had already been seen by countless people.

When Lewis was asked where his woman had gone off that night rather than partying with them, he shrugged for a moment before ringing her phone. After she missed four of his calls, he called it a night before he sobered up and headed back to their two bedroom suite. It wasn’t definitely the empty bottles of spirits that had him worried, but rather the sounds of her pained sobbing that led him to her bedroom. He watched her cry her heart out while Roscoe tried to lick her tears away. Roscoe hadn’t even left her side even if he watched Lewis return from the party. That night, Lewis took her to his bed with Roscoe still in tow, sighing and praying to whichever God was up there to tell him how to make things better for her.

It wasn’t anything intimate, but if anyone’s heard that she was on his bed they would’ve assumed otherwise. But they didn’t even spend the night under the sheets and all over his place in Monaco until the seventh month — when it was her birthday. He looked wonderful but he swore that nobody looked as beautiful as she did with the expensive Bulgari necklace he bought her. The green stone definitely hadn’t helped as it weighed her head down against the pillows.

Even then, intimacy was only shared between the two. Nobody else. Lewis hadn’t looked at anyone, not when he already had Melody in his side. Felicity couldn’t find herself to look at someone else, no matter how much the grid had tried to get a look at her. She always had her head down, only navigating her feet back to Lewis every time.

So Felicity wondered why Penny Brooke, the woman who warmed Lewis’ bed temporarily after the man expressed his love for the performer months before, would insinuate that she was the one who seduced and got him and every other man sexually involved. She hadn’t chased anyone but Lewis. Penny Brooke didn’t know that obviously.

Felicity scoffed aloud, catching the eyes of the bartender who was keeping an eye out on the patrons and the two. He approached the woman and asked, “Would you like anything else, mademoiselle?”

“Merci, mais non,” Thank you, but no. Felicity smiled gratefully at the man. The bartender nodded before turning away, not before eyeing Penny slightly.

Esther had returned from wherever she went, her hand clutching her purse before she sat next to Felicity. She looked up to see the Q3 coming to an end before her eyes widened at the sight of Penny. She then continued to ignore the woman before telling Felicity, “René phoned me and said that he’ll be picking us up soon. I think he just replenished the drinks and fruits for tonight so it won’t be long until we go.”

“Right,” Felicity managed to sip the last of her Italian soda before settling the glass down, standing up to slip on her blazer. She looked up at the screen for a moment before muttering, “Good job, Hamilton.” He landed on the pole for tomorrow. She’d have to give him four to five hours before he shows up at the lounge tonight.

Turning to look at Penny, she merely offered a curt nod in her direction before she walked out of the place with Esther. Not wanting to give any more reason for journalists to press the drama to the public.

Lewis would have to wait later.

THE FAST LANE DAILY

BURLESQUE PERFORMER MELODY MAKES SURPRISE APPEARANCE AT MONACO GRAND PRIX, CONFRONTS LEWIS HAMILTON'S ALLEGED NEW FLAME

Monaco - The Formula 1 paddock at the Monaco Grand Prix witnessed an unexpected turn of events as renowned burlesque performer Felicity Vos, popularly known by her stage name Melody, made a surprise appearance after a two-year absence from the racing scene. Speculations were rife about her motives for attending the prestigious event, especially considering her past relationship with F1 driver Lewis Hamilton.

Melody, 28, had been in a high-profile relationship with Hamilton for two years before their breakup. While her true identity remained concealed during their time together, the public learned her full name following their split. Rumours circulated that their relationship had soured due to the controversial events surrounding the 2021 Abu Dhabi race, where Hamilton's championship win was marred by controversy. Additionally, reports emerged of Hamilton being spotted with another woman shortly after the race, fuelling further speculation about the cause of their breakup.

The Monaco Grand Prix proved to be a dramatic setting for Melody's return, as she unexpectedly crossed paths with the woman who was allegedly seen with Hamilton before their separation. Identified as British model Penny Brooke, the encounter between the two women was tense, leaving onlookers intrigued about the nature of their interaction. While some speculated that Melody had planned her attendance to keep an eye on Hamilton, others questioned whether Penny was still involved with the F1 driver.

Observers noted that Melody's demeanour during the encounter was marked by indifference rather than anger or negative emotions. She engaged in conversation with a younger woman accompanying her, whom many assumed to be either her sister or a close friend. The nature of their discussion remained undisclosed, leaving fans and media outlets to speculate about the possible motives behind Melody's appearance.

The surprise appearance of the burlesque performer has sparked renewed interest in her personal life and reignited discussions about her past relationship with Hamilton. Fans and followers eagerly await any further developments that may shed light on the nature of Melody's presence at the Monaco Grand Prix and her encounter with Penny Brooke.

As the racing weekend progresses, all eyes will be on Melody, Lewis Hamilton, and Penny Brooke, as the trio's intertwined lives continue to captivate the public's attention.

Her siren eyes swiftly glanced at the corner booth as her voice softly sang.

“There’s things I wanna say to you, but I’ll just let you live.”

The piano player was definitely eating this up. Nobody loved Norman Fucking Rockwell more than the Rythme Romantique’s pianist and it was showing.

“But if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did.”

Her ex-lover was definitely inside the booth. But he shouldn’t be here, hearing her speak about him and the way he held her when she cried in his arms for the first time.

“Hold me, love me, touch me honey. Be the first who ever did,” she sang, her tone jumping an octave for a moment before it descended back to its normal tone.

Everyone in Monaco loved Melody’s art. It wasn’t just the stripping of her coats or the unclipping of her garters that did it for them, but the way she'd put her heart into these songs definitely made a lot of money in one night.

Truthfully, she didn’t mean to allow two of her tears to flow while she sang. She simply thought too much about Lewis and how good they were together. She hadn’t felt her heart ache this much ever since she left Monaco two years ago. Coming back just to see your ex in the same city would do that, she supposed, when you’ve pretended that you haven’t cared for him and what he did just as you departed.

“One for the money,” she sang, feeling her heart breaking. “Two for the show. I love you honey, I’m ready— I’m ready to go.”

“How did you get that way? I don’t know,” she spoke to him indirectly, making sure that each one of her words was being taken in like a love letter he once wrote her.

“You’re screwed up and brilliant— look like a million dollar man, so why is my heart broke?” The musicians reached the coda as the rhythm descended from the high. Her voice nearly cracked at the final chorus, thanks to him.

“This seems pretty sad in comparison to the first half, no?” She laughed like a bombshell on display— her legs shining under the warm spotlight as the audience laughed dumbly— not even caring about the question when her voice brought them into some sort of space they haven’t been brought to before. “Candyman was merely a nod to my good friend who only brought it up for a good time. It takes you places higher than a sugar rush could. Our atmosphere dimmed a little for tonight, but it’s alright. I live to impress all of you with the grand finale.”

“Merci beaucoup pour cette agréable soirée, et j'ai hâte de chanter mon cœur demain soir ici au Rythme Romantique. Bisous,” Thank you very much for a pleasant evening, and I look forward to singing my heart out tomorrow night here at the Rythme Romantique. Kisses. Melody’s face feigned innocence as she blew a kiss and bent over to pick up her white fur coat, allowing the strands of pearls to dangle off her body for a moment before she covered her figure with the coat. Walking down the stage, everyone hollered and cheered for her while she waved. But the moment she’s reached the bar, René had already nodded towards the booth as she murmured a thank you to him, her kitten heels making a clicking noise as she walked towards the enclosed booth.

Then it was silent again.

“What would’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up,” Lewis leaned against his seat with a grin, sipping on his alcohol-free tonic. “I can just imagine how shocked you’d be if this place is empty.”

Felicity huffed, sitting across him as Esther stood by the entrance with her rum and coke. Felicity murmured a thank you, watching as Esther winked at her way before she left with a glare directed at the Mercedes driver.

Sipping on her drink, she sat the glass down and smiled sarcastically, “You’re predictable.”

“Really?” Lewis raised a brow with an amused smile.

“It’s no wonder why you reacted the way you did when you lost against Max all those years ago,” Felicity added, watching his smile falter. She continued regardless, “Which begs the question… I thought that you’re smarter than that, Lewis?”

His face showed nothing but confusion. She elaborated to get this in his head, “Penny Brooke made her presence known to me earlier today. Did you beg me to attend your race just so you can rub your relationship with—“

“Felicity, we are not together,” Lewis stated firmly. He wasn’t about to let it come down to that because of some woman. Again. “She’s not my guest.”

“Yet I’ve heard a lot about how she tends to be in the same area as you are,” Felicity pointed.

“I’ve told her to not speak to me nor come because it was over as soon as I kicked her out,” Lewis explained, his tone turning a little defensive. “Can’t exactly stop her from coming.”

“I think a restraining order normally follows whenever someone refuses to oblige,” Felicity told him quietly. It wasn’t even pathetic anymore. It was rather concerning.

Lewis scoffed, shaking his head as he sipped on his tonic. “I can’t do that if her father’s company’s a sponsor of the team. Last I heard she’s a daddy’s girl.”

“I pray for your poor soul,” Felicity snorted quietly, not wanting to show her amusement. “Is this why you haven’t done anything about it?”

“It’s either the team loses the money or I get a lot of hell from her,” Lewis rolled his eyes. “Choosing the former would simply risk their title.

“These girls—“ Felicity decided to face the music, not knowing what he really wanted in these visits. Did he want one more night with her? Did he want to simply talk? What did he want? Felicity chose to confront him instead. “They all came from money and had connections that could get them places. These women have the luxuries that led them straight to you, Hamilton. You’ve to pick one of them at some point. They won’t be chasing after you soon enough.”

Lewis laughed like it was a joke. A fucking joke.

He then replied quietly, “Yet I’m choosing the one who never asked for any of that from me. I’m still trailing after the one who only asked for a handful once and was already satisfied with asking once. That tells you a lot about who I want, no?”

Felicity couldn’t act like Melody as of this point. The way her fist gripped on the edge of her seat while she listened to him should have told him enough.

The way her eyes threatened to cry again while her eyes were trained on the table should’ve told him not to push any further. She wasn’t the seductive siren at the stage in front of Lewis Hamilton. Not at this point. Right now she’s merely Felicity Vos— the woman that followed Lewis around like a lost puppy and a dedicated lover that he hadn’t noticed until she performed during that one night in the UK.

“Yeah, it tells me a lot,” her voice nearly cracked as she looked up, eyes showing nothing of malice as she spoke, “it tells me that you don’t know that you’ve got a good thing until they start slipping through your fingers.”

She hugged her coat tightly, goosebumps rising as she pleaded, “Tell me what you really want, Lewis. You didn’t have to explain yourself and why she was there at the same time as I was. You wouldn’t have bothered buying the expensive seat just to see me if you didn’t want something so please… what is it—“

“I’m planning to retire soon.”

As soon as those words slipped out of his mouth, her whole bravado did as well.

“What?” She asked as if she hadn’t heard him the first time. She did. She just wished that what she heard was right.

Being with him told her a lot about his ambitions. He said he wouldn’t stop racing until he’s reached his eighth— maybe tenth victory of his career. She watched him win his sixth championship— and his seventh and each time he swore that he’d get one more. One more then I’ll consider retiring.

So this was just a fucking joke. Lewis wouldn’t retire this early if he didn’t know that he’d win the championship this year.

“For two years I’ve been trying to get that eighth trophy,” he sighed, exasperated from the race today. But he wasn’t about to waste his time being exhausted while his time with her was running out. “I wasn’t able to get my hands on them because nobody’s trying to tell me how close I am. Nobody’s told me how I should push through because something was a close call.”

Felicity was frozen in her seat, having no choice but to listen in. She couldn’t say anything, so she allowed her ears to communicate with him and what could possibly be bullshit.

“I don’t think I’m coming back after next year,” Lewis shrugged. “Toto’s been asking me about my next step in my career. I told him—“

“That you’re planning to cock it all up for the younger you?” Felicity’s mouth gaped open as she scoffed in disbelief. She stood and leaned forward enough to poke at his chest. “You’re giving up because you don’t have anyone to mollycoddle you when you manage to cock up the race? Because Angela won’t do it? Because you won’t allow anyone from the line of women to do it for you? God Hamilton—“

“Fel—“

“Don’t ruin your dreams for someone who didn’t want to be a part of it,” Felicity spewed out, her forehead creasing as her scowl deepened. “This goal is about you— stupid fuckin’ prick. Have you gone bollocks?”

“Retiring because of your cock— absolutely stupid comin’ from you,” Felicity sat back on her seat, glare hardening as she huffed. Lewis had completely forgotten that she was from Birmingham up until now. Her mouth was filthy, but she still radiated the energy of an angel.

“It’s not just— gah!” Lewis almost slammed his head against the table. He wasn’t even able to defend himself. “It wasn’t just about you warming my fuckin’ bed, Felicity. You know that!”

“Was it?” Felicity was fuming as of this point and if anyone else would see— they’d be in disbelief. Her pale skin didn’t look as red as it was now. “Do not make such decisions because the one that you had isn't there anymore, Hamilton. Don’t give up on your goals because you don’t want to look for another one of me.”

“I’m not looking for another one of you,” Lewis sputtered, his voice sounding more and more angry as he went on. “I’ve never looked for another one of you after you blocked my number. It’s just… the rhythm isn’t there anymore.”

“Lewis… I gave myself up for you. You’ve put Melody’s name in Felicity’s shoes and I let that happen,” Felicity told him, her eyes glimmering under the dim light as she continued, “you told me that you wanted me to be there before, during and after you race. I did that because I needed the money and help - I craved for you soon after. But the moment you uttered those fucking words— I wish you didn’t. I wish you just cared about giving me that money— not anything else. Because I allowed you to be the biggest part of me that I wasn’t able to get rid of. That was my biggest mistake.

“And I hope you don’t do the same— making me a big part of who you are now,” Felicity paused, pulling out the handkerchief from her brassiere as she dabbed her tears away. She looked up, “Don’t retire because I can’t be there with the arms and chest to rest on anymore. You’ll do more harm than good making it all about me.”

Lewis watched the sadness in her eyes, wondering how permanent it looked. The sadness that she showed while she sang wasn’t for the money and the show, after all. It was all for him. He only realized that now.

Watching her stand up, she cleared her throat to avoid having to speak with a shaky voice. She then gave him a small pitiful smile and bid her goodnight, turning away as she exited the booth. The looks that René and Esther gave her told her enough.

Tomorrow was going to be another day of heartbreak, should she let Lewis go on and on about wanting her all over again.

She wasn’t even sure how she would be able to control her emotions now that indifference withered away and her heart continued to ache.

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jiminjamms · 3 months ago

Text

sex therapy :: 30. breaking news

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. physical aggression. verbal abuse (not to reader). infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.4k

notes: thank you again for your patience with the chapter! life update: i resigned from my company (on good terms, even though the work had sucked my mental and physical health), and i am soon doing a trip to japan and southeast asia as part of my recovery. still, i will be actively writing and responding since this community is so important to me! also, has anyone been keeping up with jujutsu kaisen's manga?! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Life without a sugar daddy was rough.

As Toji Fushiguro's ex-wife and Naoya Zenin's ex-mistress, Mari faced this harsh reality since no one threw their money in her direction anymore. She slept little this past week, overwhelmed by financial stressors. While she still subsisted on the younger executive's credit card (with his fortune, Naoya hardly noticed the charges on his bill), she realized that she actually had to work for an income.

Such was the case as Mari walked home one evening after interviewing for jobs, her body and mind exhausted from fielding mundane questions about her previous professional experiences (which she had little of).

Upon unlocking her apartment door, she was immediately greeted by the sight of her illuminated living room.

That struck her as odd.

She always switched the lights off before she left.

However, when she spotted a familiar face down the hall, she found the answer.

"Tsumiki." Mari dropped her purse by the door. "What are you doing here?”

The woman had not seen her one and only blood-related child in months. While she knew that her daughter—who was, without doubt, a fantastically accomplished and intelligent young lady—just completed her second year at Oxford University, she thought the girl had chosen to remain in England for her summer break. Didn't Toji mention that she did not want to return to Tokyo?

Not that Mari complained. She was just...confused.

Admittedly, Mari should know the answer to her question, but she had been too ‘occupied’ to contact Tsumiki as much as a good mother should. As a result, Mari found herself in the dark about the girl's life in the United Kingdom, her plans for the university holiday, and her recent classes in…what was her field of study again?

Surely, Toji and his twerp son Megumi would know all the answers since Tsumiki had always been closer to her Fushiguro stepfamily. Quite a shame, since Mari would have considered her daughter as the most perfect angel otherwise.

She toed her shoes off.

“When did you arrive in Tokyo?” Mari continued with a plastered smile and approached the girl sitting with crossed arms in the living room.

Genetics ran deep between mother and daughter. Uninformed observers might even mistake the pair as sisters, the physical resemblance uncanny in how Tsumiki presented a more youthful version of the older woman by sharing the same warm chocolate-colored eyes, long dark hair, and flawless porcelain skin.

Yet, physical similarities meant nothing when Mari could not fully decipher her own flesh and blood.

“I came back to Japan earlier this week,” Tsumiki responded a terse edge in her tone.

“But I haven’t seen you until now.”

“Because I’ve been staying with Dad.”

“Oh.” So, she meant with Toji. “You mean your stepdad.”

“No,” she corrected sternly. “He's my dad.”

Theoretically, Mari could go into a whole tangent on how Tsumiki’s actual father was some middle-class nobody whom she hadn’t seen or spoken to since her first divorce (and that was many years ago). Or how the Fushiguros technically were Tsumiki’s ex-stepfamily since Mari had divorced her second husband Toji earlier this year.

But she spared her daughter from the reminders.

“Well, I’m glad to see you back, honey.” With a bottle of unfinished cabernet sauvignon in the fridge, Mari meandered to the kitchen to pour herself a full glass. She returned to living room and joined her daughter on the sofa. “How have you been? I’m guessing England has been treating you well? I have never been, so I wouldn’t know. Heard that the fish and chips are good there."

No response.

Am I being ignored? Mari commented inwardly and swirled the red wine in her chalice.

She took her first sip amid the long and awkward pause before switching the topic to encourage conversation. "Anyway, whenever you would like, you’re always welcome to stay a few nights here. Wouldn't hurt to spend some more time with your mother."

Only for Tsumiki to quip, “We’ve talked about this before. I don’t want to live with you.”

Now, this—Mari believed—was certainly uncalled for. "Watch your tone with me, young lady."

"For what? I am not here because I miss you," her daughter resumed. "If I had a better option, I would not bring myself to show up here and be in front of you."

The older woman placed her glass down and tried to appear calm. Hearing Tsumiki speak with such contempt twisted a deep knife into Mari's heart. Once upon a time, her daughter had been the sweetest girl—warm, full of life, and eager to express her innocent thoughts with anyone she encountered. Now, however, that same person had been tainted into someone cold, guarded, and withdrawn, demonstrated by her disrespect to the very woman who had given her life.

"That is no manner to talk to your mother," Mari cautioned.

"Well, maybe because I have my reasons."

"Which are?"

"Do you want to know why I did not bother to text or call you these past several months?" and Tsumiki did not wait for an answer before she angrily added, "Because I am so upset that you filed a divorce with Dad!"

While Mari had hoped to not bring up the topic before, she had no choice but to do so now.

"That big, burly, bulky man is not your father," she snapped. "He and his emo Harvard-bound son are not your family! In the eyes of the law, there is no longer any relation between you and them. But, I am your mother. I had given you life, and this is what you think of me?"

"Because I love them!" Tsumiki opposed through a hardened glare. "Dad and Megumi treat me more like their blood-related family than you do!”

Mari could not believe the preposterous words her daughter spewed. She always presumed that the Fushiguros had been corrupting her child, and to see her suspicions confirmed had Mari standing up promptly from the couch.

"How dare you say after all I have done for you, Tsumiki?" Mari interrogated angrily. "Did you think that I left your biological father and then divorced your stepfather for what...for fun?! These choices were difficult for me, too! But I made those judgments because I wanted to give you a better life in which we didn't have to worry about where our next meal, our next piece of clothing, or our next rent payment would come from! Your biological father is a no-name nothing. He could’ve never supported the lavish lifestyle you had experienced during your adolescent years. In fact, if I hadn’t married Toji Fushiguro, you probably wouldn't be studying at the University of Oxford right now! I, alone, could never have afforded all your years of expensive tutors or private school tuition. Please, think before you speak. I know I did not raise an ungrateful brat.”

Tsumiki furrowed her brows from the comments.

“You're the ungrateful one, Mom!” she insisted, and the said woman visibly reeled back when the girl continued to seethe with antipathy. “All the money that you had spent while married to Dad, he never asked for a single cent back. Never. In fact, he still pays for my university. In his eyes and mine, I’m as good as any blood-related child to him. He hadn't asked you to chip in because he knows you wouldn't have the money to. Divorcing the man you've been leeching off of isn't a sign of appreciation, Mom."

To hear her child defend another family, Mari wasn’t sure if she was going to laugh or cry at how ridiculous this scene was, the only thing she could process being the pain and betrayal that slammed her with one bitter blow.

"Well, did you want to become a laughingstock?" the woman rationalized. "Given our ties to the Zenin name when Toji left the company, those nasty journalists would've clung onto any scrap to label you a buffoon. You know what those tabloid writers are like! I had the foresight to divorce that man. I did not want the disgrace if we remained attached to the Fushiguros."

After that response, Tsumiki turned quiet with one sharp exhale as her eyes snapped shut, and Mari, whose entire body had undulated from heavy and irate breaths, thought that finally—finally—she had won this godforsaken argument.

Until she heard the younger girl speak again.

"Yet, you have humiliated me more than anyone," and noticing how her mother quirked a brow, Tsumiki went on. "Who are you really trying to protect, Mom? Are you truly making these decisions for my benefit? Or is it...for yourself?"

Despite hiding a gulp, the older woman noticed her heart race. "What do you mean?"

"How can you explain this?"

As though that was her cue, Tsumiki reached for her phone. She tapped onto the front page of the Yomiuri Shimbun, the most highly circulated newspaper in Japan. Before Mari could read the bold title labeled as 'Breaking News,' Tsumiki provided her with a verbal summary:

"The world knows you're a homewrecker, Mom."

Naoya found no surprise when Naobito Zenin burst into his executive suite as an angry bull would charge toward a provoking cape.

Plenty of times, his father barged into his private office completely unannounced, slamming the door open with enough force to rattle the wooden bookshelves behind him. Usually, the dramatic entrance would be followed by a slew of harsh admonitions, and this encounter—Naoya could tell��would be no different.

The astringency cast on his father's countenance gave the executive no other choice than to rise from his seat, his office chair sliding back so he could pose tall and confident as the heir to Japan's largest conglomerate should be.

"Father," he greeted, curt.

Taking hurried steps around his mahogany desk, Naoya aimed to meet the older man halfway until he instead came into contact with one harsh blow that sent his face flogging to the side.

Naoya froze, his gaze lowered.

Instinctively, he reached for his throbbing cheek with one hand as the other wiped briefly over his busted upper lip. To have his father approach him physically like this didn't even register as a surprise. Despite his title as the Zenin CEO, Naoya continued to be scolded, lectured, and outright ignored because, in his father's words, he 'never seemed to get anything right.'

Even now, the older man found no hesitation in cursing out his only child.

"You fucking son of a whore! Want to explain why your affair with Toji's ex-wife is all over Japanese media?!"

Slowly, Naoya lifted his eyes from the floor. He had suspected that this would be the topic of discussion. In the last hour, Naoya saw his name plastered over tabloid pages, news websites, and social media feeds as an anonymous whistleblower tipped publishers in regards to his scandalous affair with Mari—and the millions Naoya spent to hide it. Evidence ranging from supposedly long-gone paparazzi photos to screenshots of money transfers circulated quickly with the internet.

Naturally, Naoya had seen the headlines too...

'Zenin Corporation CEO Exposed for Concealing Affair with Predecessor's Ex-Wife' 'Everything to Know About the Zenin Household's Uncovered Drama in Family, Business, and Love' 'Billionaire Naoya Zenin Entangled in Cheating Scandal, Accused of Bribing Press to Silence Coverage'

...and the comments:

'That’s why you can’t trust rich people. They never have any shame.' 'His wife and company deserve better.' 'Disappointed that this is the scumbag leading our country's largest company.' 'The Board should fire him.’

Now, that last comment struck a very particular chord, especially since the Chairman of that very Board stood before him.

Naoya clenched his hands, yet he stood mute. With every wrong move certain to cost him far too much in return, he was completely powerless in front of the family patriarch and, as a result, his first logical reaction was to defend himself.

"I do not have the evidence yet, but I am certain Toji had planned this, Father. Him, and also Sukuna, Geto, and Choso. All four leaked these details because they didn’t want to see your son succeed. I will resolve this. I am going to call Toji immediately and—“

"You're right," Naobito interrupted coldly. "If Toji had still been CEO today, he would've made sure that none of this bullshit would’ve happened.”

Naoya widened his eyes in bewilderment, not anticipating his father to twist his logic like that. He already received a literal slap across his face, but to realize that Naobito still compared him to his older cousin all these months later drove him insane!

"No, Father. What I meant was—"

"Oh, there is no need to correct me. I know what you meant," Naobito tested in a low voice. "What I gathered from this conversation is that I have given you a million chances in life, and you know what? You blew every single one of them. You're an asshole, you're a cheater, and you're a complete humiliation. I can always count on you to paint me as a failed father."

Outrageous.

With the bitter staring contest between father and son, the latter boiled internally listening to the insults from the man who sired him. For the ruthless Naobito Zenin, Naoya meant no value as an heir without the ability to achieve his high standards.

"Some twisted brain you have for sleeping with your cousin's ex-spouse,” Naobito then chided, yet amusement remained absent in his tone. “Was that the low-class tramp I saw in the photos with you on the private jet the other day?"

The blonde kept his mouth shut.

But his father wanted an answer. "Well?!"

Suck it in, Naoya. That's all you can do now. "Yes."

What a sight, to see how someone blazing as a furious flame then erupt into a violent volcano. Naobito grabbed his son's collar, pulling him forward and shoving him against the wall. His fists shook as he sought the other's gaze.

"You're fucking married, you realize that?!" he snarled.

"I do! Which is why I have cut Mari from my life! I don't talk to that woman anymore."

Unimpressed, Naobito tugged forcefully at Naoya's shirt again. "I am truly astonished by what an idiot you are. Your answer doesn't change shit." He tightened his grip and did not care that his son wrapped both hands around his wrist to prevent himself from choking. "Let me tell you something, boy. I did everything—everything—to convince our Chief Operating Officer to let his treasured daughter marry you, you despicable bastard. He didn't want to hand the girl over because he knew—oh, that man is wise!—he knew that the union mainly served as a tactic to improve your public image and that there was little obvious benefit for his child. Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her," and he roared, "so, what the hell have you done?!"

Naoya had heard his father’s warnings countless times, yet he previously brushed each one aside with an ambivalence he now acknowledged as foolish. Unlike before, the threat to his hard-earned position suddenly became very, verypalpable. He grappled with a strange fear, unable to pinpoint what precisely unsettled him the most. The scorn from a world that no longer saw him as an honest businessman? The sneers from relatives with an undeniable reason to mock him? Or perhaps the fury from his draconian father, whose disappointment cut deeper than any public disgrace?

"I—" Naoya's choked voice resembled a croak. He could hardly breathe. "I apologize. This entire situation...this got out of my control."

Alongside his callous disregard for his son’s feelings, the Zenin patriarch even scoffed.

"This isn’t about getting out of your control, boy. This is about your complete lack of judgment. In fact, Daisuke called me when he saw the headlines, and you know what he told me?" and he had to refrain from flinging his son onto the ground before he continued, "That Y/N's been staying in her family residence again because she is going to leave you!"

Naoya held his next breath. Fuck, he knows. Naoya intended to keep his recent arguments with you a secret, hoping to resolve the situation first. However, since your father snitched...lying would be a dangerous move.

"I have not seen Y/N in a week because we've had a few fights." Naoya did not dare admit the details about how you two became arguing spectacles, first in his cousins' presence and later on at the café. "Just...marriage quarrels. We will get over—"

“She would be a moron to stay married to you,” Naobito cut off. "Y/N and your unborn child deserve more than to have a public disgrace like you in the household."

Right. Had he not been reminded, Naoya would've forgotten that he had lied to his father about your pregnancy, too. His hands grew clammy where they still seized his father’s wrist.

“There"—a cough—"there is no child,” Naoya blurted out, determining to rip all bandaids off in one go.

Naturally, his father became perplexed.

“Excuse me?” His hold loosened just enough for Naoya to gasp properly for his next breath.

“Y/N is not pregnant,” Naoya repeated, his voice hollow with resignation. “During our last family dinner, I only said that because I wanted to please you.”

The older Zenin became still, appalled by the younger one's bravery to say those words. For a moment, Naoya braced himself for another physical blow before his father released him, shoving Naoya backward such that he stumbled.

“If you weren’t so disappointing, there would be no need for you to lie to me,” Naobito pointed out coldly. "Not only to me, but also your wife, your colleagues, and your shareholders on matters about your family, your marriage, or your commitment to the company. If Toji had not brought this to the media's attention, how much longer would you have manipulated the truth for your benefit?"

There he went again.

"I don't understand," Naoya protested, unable to contain his frustration any longer. "Toji doesn't belong in this family anymore! Why do you keep talking about him? Father, you forced him to leave earlier this year, citing his threat to our family and company's reputation."

"You're the one to talk!" Naobito shot back. "At least Toji has the brain that you utterly lack." Before the younger man could react, the Chairman had already turned on his heel. "I have made my decision."

His decision?

A confused Naoya watched his father head for the exit.

"Wait, Father...!"

"Enough!" The infuriated man raised a hand right as he neared the door, a warning for him to not speak further. "Our discussion has concluded. Effective immediately, Toji Fushiguro has been re-instated as the Zenin Heir and CEO."

Instantly, Naoya slumped forward in disbelief.

Even as the older man disappeared, the room appeared to spin dangerously. Toji Fushiguro...re-instated? As the heir and CEO?

Naobito Zenin could never make up his mind, now could he? In Naoya's head, this must be some cruel joke.

Ever since he comprehended his ability to bend fate to his will, he had promised himself to fight tooth and nail to defend the (very rightful!) position that he worked hard to earn. He had disposed of his cousin through slander, he had to put up with shitty corporate politics, and, hell, he had to even marry you!

Some may label Naoya's current negative publicity as irredeemable, but he held hope the situation would normalize once the steam blew over.

With these thoughts in mind, Naoya regained his balance and rushed out as well. "Father!"

However, by the time he reached beyond the doors, Naobito Zenin was no longer there. Even his secretary could not be found as, instead, two imposing figures stood by the desk where his assistant should be. Naoya didn't recognize them. The men were tall and well-built, their muscled arms and thighs visible despite the fabric that covered their tattooed skin.

"Nice to meet you," one started after the long silence. "I am Eso and this is my younger brother Kechizu."

A stumped Naoya frowned.

"May...I help you?"

"No," the other answered nonchalantly, "because we are here to knock you out."

"Wha—"

And Naoya's vision went dark.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Note that Eso and Kechizu are Choso's younger brothers in JJK. (Both are not completely human in canonverse, but we shall suspend beliefs.) Also, I cannot explain the satisfaction as I wrote about Naoya and his mistress finally getting wrecked! Talk about justice being served! There were many ways these scenes could have played out, but I strategically chose Tsumiki and Naobito as the agents in the discussions. Freed from corporate America handcuffs, I plan to post again soon. Love you all!

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