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luciferlightbringer · 8 months

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Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 4

Thanks again to all of my readers and new followers! I get more excited with every chapter. Here is Chapter 4! (Chapter 5 already basically done because the brainrot is so bad rn. Should I make the simps wait or should I post it tomorrow?) xoxo, Dany <3

Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Updated through Chapter 12

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 4.2k CW: Slowburn, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, cuddles, depression, anxiety, family drama

Before long, you were back in the same black car again on the way to see Lucifer, a little more nervous and excited than you were last time. The last week felt both slow and quick at the same time. It was weird having something that you kinda looked forward to, instead of just living day to day in the torturous monotony that you had gotten used to in your short time in hell.

You wore your same jacket from the last time, but beneath you opted for a soft, baby blue, crop-top sweater and tightly fitting, black pants, with some more simple lingerie underneath. You dressed more simple and comfortable this time because you did not expect it to go in a sexual route, but your outfit was still alluring if that was the route he wanted to go down. It is the type of outfit that might get some confused looks from Larry and the other girls, but since it was all covered by a jacket, no one commented on it as you made your way out of the Lounge. You still did your makeup and hair the same though, even though it felt a little over the top for the type of setting you anticipated for the night.

You made a little more effort to strike up a conversation with the driver this time, both to give you something to focus on, and to be nice since he would most likely be making this route more regularly, and because you always tried to be nice to people in the types of jobs that were more likely to get ignored or yelled at. At least on Earth. You could tell the driver was not much of a talker, but he still reciprocated in light conversation.

Soon you arrived once again at the big, beautiful manor, and the driver escorted you up the stairs to the front door. This time, you were surprised to see Lucifer standing in the hallway, about 20 feet in from the doorway, waiting for you. As you entered, you saw a warm nervous smile form across his face, and he started to walk towards you as you handed your coat to the driver as you had done before.

"Welcome back," he said, now standing before you, a glimmer of joy in his eyes. "It's good to see you again."

You smiled back at him, "It's good to see you again too. I hope you have been doing well since our last encounter?" you ask with warm curiosity in your eyes.

"Yes, I have, thank you" Lucifer responded. Lucifer had started to look over you again, still the same person as last time, but something felt different about you. Your outfit and form was still as attractive as last time, but it was more simple, comforting, even the way your face looked was softer. Everything about the person you were now in front of him felt like a softer, less sharp version of yourself than the one that he had first laid eyes upon a week prior. Even the energy of your words felt different. Like the sharp bite of sensuality and dominance that had lingered on every word that had escaped your lips previous, now felt sanded down to something more soft and warm, like the way sharp rocks turned to sand after enduring the constant crashing of the waves.

He held out one of his black hands to you and you took it, and he pulled your hand up to his lips, and gave a soft kiss on your knuckles. His lips were soft against your skin, and your skin was soft against his lips. Both of you felt little butterflies in your stomachs from the contact, but you both just gave the other a smile.

Lucifer once again escorted you up to his room, talking a little bit more about each other's week. You let Lucifer do most of the talking since he was the customer and, besides, you did not really like to talk about work. Pretty much all you did besides work, was sleep and hang out with one or two of the girls that you had become close with at the Lounge.

You both arrived in Lucifer's room and he turned to close the door. He then sighed and allowed his posture to slouch. He turned back to look at you, his expression now full of sadness and... guilt? What just happened? He was chatting and laughing up a storm just a minute ago? He looked up at you, nervously fiddling with his cane.

"I... uhhh... I wanted to apologize for last time," he said before looking back at the floor. Apologize? For what?

"I just... I don't know what happened. Something set me off and... it was really scary... It had nothing to do with you. Its my stuff... I'm not used to that happening around other people. And I'm not used to crying that much... especially not in front of people...," he covered his face with his hands and took in a jagged breath.

'Was he really apologizing for having a panic attack and then crying at receiving comfort?' You heart ached to see this gentle angelic creature full of so much pain in front of you. It also made you angry, but now was not the time for that. Without another thought you closed the gap between the two of you, pulling him in and wrapping him a soft embrace.

Lucifer flinched at the sudden embrace, peaking out from behind his hands, looking up at you with eyes that were already on their way to forming more tears.

"Listen to me. I don't normally tell people what they can and can't do, but you will not apologize to me for crying, feeling bad, needing comfort, or anything of that sort in my presence... Do you understand me?" you say softly but sternly as you hold him.

Lucifer remained frozen in your arms, processing your words, as more tears started to well up in his eyes.

"I am not going to stand here and pretend that I know what you are going through, but I know what it's like to feel alone, unseen, and to want for once to have someone listen to me or just fucking hold me. So please..." You open your arms a little, move his hands away from his face, and tip Lucifer's face up to look at you. "If this helps, which, does it?"

Lucifer gives you a soft nod as you hold up his chin as he gives you a soft, sad 'mhmm', his eyes swimming with sorrow and joy.

"Then don't you ever fucking apologize to me. Got it?" you whisper to him.

He nodded, as the dam that was holding back this next round of tears broke. He buried his head against the soft skin of your neck and melted into you as he sobbed. Through some of the sobs he tried to talk and explain things that had happened before, but it was hard to understand through the hard breathing and hicks of air between the sobs. You softly shushed him and told him that you did not have to try to tell it all to you now.

After a few minutes, he calmed down enough for you to ask if he wanted to get more comfortable so that you did not have to put him to bed in his suit clothes again if he ended up falling asleep again. He said he wasn't going to fall asleep again, but he agreed that snuggling up to you in more comfortable clothes would be nice also you did not trust that he would not fall asleep again.

He changed into a baggy sweater and some sweatpants and walked back into the room to see you sitting on the edge of his bed. You smiled and giggled to yourself as he walked back in the room. You never expected to see the King of Hell looking so casual, he looked so sweet and innocent, especially in a sweater that looked a little too big for him. He crossed his arms and pouted as you laughed.

"What's so funny?" he said, raising an eyebrow. You suddenly realize how your laugh may have some off to someone who most likely harbors some level of self esteem issues beneath his normal vailed charismatic character.

"Oh! I'm sorry. You just look really cute," you say with a sheepish smile. "it's just... not a look that I ever imagined you in."

A blush ripped across Lucifer's cheeks. He loved compliments but still didn't expect them from you, especially with how blunt they were. But he figured it was probably something you did a lot. He walked over to a record player that was against one of the walls of his room, and put on a record to play in the background. Its sounded like... Swan Lake? Or something close to it. Did they actually know about Swan Lake in hell?

You both talked about where he wanted you to be, and you moved to sit over the spot where Lucifer normally slept, and sat criss-cross. You looked at Lucifer, opening you arms to him as an invitation. Lucifer crawled up onto the bed and curled up into your lap with his head against your chest. You arms enveloped him again as your warm body heat made him melt into you again.

Everything about you felt so gentle and plush, you had a soft scent about you, kinda like... what was it... Lavendar and Shea Butter? Something like that. Your sweater was soft too. He missed the dress you wore last week, but that would have just turned him on and that was not what he was wanting right now. He still enjoyed your simple beauty, and appreciated that it seemed you had understood his cryptic message he had told your boss.

"So, it seems my message to you got through ok?" he asked sleepily.

"It did," you replied softly smiling down at him.

"And you are ok this this? You won't get in trouble for doing this instead of sexual things, right?" he asked, looking up with sleepy concern.

You ran card your fingers through his hair, "No, mostly because it's no ones business what I do on house calls, as long as you are happy."

Right, because its what the customer wants. Something about that made his chest tighten, but he let it go. The 'why' of the situation didn't matter right now, he felt cared for and that's what he needed right now.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, outside of the gentle music that played in the background, for some time. For how long, you had no idea, but every moment was bliss. You watched as Lucifer shed a few more tears in the comfort of your arms, his breathing started to slow and his eyelids started to grow heavy. Then you felt him shift and look up at you.

"Oh, I had a question..." Lucifer said, half asleep.

"What's up?" you said, god he was so cute when he was fighting back sleep.

"How much... is too much?" he asked with half open eyes.

You looked at him confused, "How much is too much, what?"

"Time," he said, "Time with you?"

You were starting to understand the question a little more, "Like tonight?"

He shook his head, "No like... nights, amount of nights."

"Oh! Like how often can you request for me to come over?" you say.

He nods as his head laid back down on you chest.

"As often as you would like," you say softly with a chuckle, running your fingers through his hair again.

Lucifer thought for a second and hummed at the sensation of your fingers in his hair, "Like... two or three times a week? I don't wanna be... weird and ask for too much." He was trying so hard to finish his thoughts and stay awake.

"It's cute that you would think I would find anything weird. But yes, two or three times a week is fine. You will just have to let Larry though so that I don't get scheduled with anyone else, ok?"

He nodded, and his eyelids fell heavy. A few minutes later, Lucifer was once again asleep in your arms. It seemed as if it was really important for him to ask that question before he fell asleep.

Once again, you took a few minutes to look at his sleeping face, so soft and peaceful. You were glad that tonight seemed to work out better than last time. You were so curious as to what pains it was that plagued his mind. I'm sure some of it had to do with the whole 'fallen angel' thing, but the way he reacted to intimacy felt like it held something deeper. He hoped he would tell you at some point as you are allowed to continue to be there for him, but that was for him to decide, and you needed to be careful. Lucifer held the power in the dynamic, one wrong move, and the relationship would be snuffed out. You wanted to make sure you did everything to make sure that did not happen too soon. You knew this dynamic could never last forever, but something about him made you want to be there, to help him feel better in this small way that it seems you had started to, for him, and, selfishly, a little bit for yourself.

It was time, and soon you slipped out from under him, and tucked him in as you had done the previous time. You wrote out another small note, letting him know that he can request for you 2 or 3 times a week, because you didn't trust that his sleepy memory would have held onto that conversation super well, and you left it on his bedside table again before leaving for the night. The driver was prepared this time to make sure you got paid for the night before you left the car.

Lucifer would wake up the next morning, feeling fluttery and rested again, to find your note again on the bedside table. He would immediately call to schedule his next few appointments. He didn't want to have to fight anyone for his time with you.

_____________________________________________________________

Over the next several weeks, you and Lucifer would meet up your agreed upon 2 to 3 nights a week, it ended up normally being close to every other night, and you were perfectly fine with that. You enjoyed having half of your evenings being more chill, less sex oriented than your other nights of work, and after a while, it almost felt like it wasn't work at all. More like... hanging out with a friend who just happened to pay for your time. Sometimes that made you feel guilty, but that was your job, he never said anything about it, and it gave you some level of protection in case something ever did go wrong.

You gradually started do less and less with your hair and makeup when you would go over, or you would just clean it off in the car or at Lucifer's place. Lucifer liked getting to see your natural facial features, but he never told you that directly. Every time you would walk in the door, Lucifer felt like the worries of his life would almost cease to exist, things felt more tolerable, even the pains of his past.

It took a few more nights before Lucifer could get past the hug turning into tears and cuddles until he fell asleep, but eventually he did. He didn't realize just how starved for affection he was until you starting coming around, and over time he felt the desperation for it that would send him into tears start to wane and become more tolerable. He still always feel asleep, but then again, you always stayed up late with him. Plus, he mentioned that he normally struggled to fall asleep on his own, and the nights with you made the sleep come much more easily.

The sessions of crying turned into nights of hanging out, having dinner, being introduced to his study full of ducks, helping him try to organize the ducks so that he could actually use his office a little more, playing board games, watching tv, and telling stories, including stories about Lucifer's past.

The first one started after he off-handedly mentioned needing to text Charlie.

"Who is Charlie?" you asked one night while you guys ate dinner on the couch while watching a show.

Lucifer slumped a little in his seat, and started to fidget with his phone, "She... well... she's my daughter."

Charlie Morningstar. Ugh, duh. You definitely knew he had a daughter. It was just surprising that he had not spoken at all about her. Lilith she could understand him not wanting to talk about, but why not Charlie? She was still in hell, and very active in its community.

"Oh right! I heard something on the news a few months ago about her... running a hotel of some kind, right? I don't remember much about it" you said. You remembered people at the brothel making fun of her for a couple of days because of a really awkward pitch she had made about it on the news, but that was a while ago, and of course you wouldn't tell Lucifer that.

Lucifer continued to mess with his phone, not looking up at you, "Uhh, ya... something like that... I'm not really sure," he sighed, "We don't talk much..."

You think for a minute, wanting to choose your next words carefully, "Why not?"

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply.

"I'm sorry, we don't-" you start to say.

"No no, its fine, its just... hard. Umm... Our family... used to be the best thing in the world, Lilith, Charlie, and I. We were… so happy, I had the best girls in the nine circles by my side. But I was busy, being the King and what-not, so I did not get as much time with Charlie. Lilith mostly took care of her, raised her, and Charlie grew up kinda distanced from me. I... barely know that much about her, especially now, and the stuff she does tell me, doesn't seem to fucking stick in my brain half the time, and I just feel like I'm a deadbeat father who just calls her to ask her to do things for me sometimes and I-" he stopped and sucked in a long breath, then exhaled. He could tell he was starting to talk fast and get really upset, and he didn't want that. He never talked about this part of his life with anyone and he really wanted to tell you, because with you he actually felt safe enough to talk about it.

He finally turned to look at you, "When Lilith left me 7 years ago, I felt like I lost any basic connection I had with Charlie... because she is so much closer with her mother. I... I want to talk to her, I want to know her... I just... I don't know how... I thought I used to but now... I'm just broken and useless to her..." Lucifers eyes slid back down to his lap and covered his face with his hands.

You looked at Lucifer for a minute, before opening you arms to invite him into your lap, as you usually did when he started to get sad again. Lucifer looked up at you, and soon crawled into your lap.

"I think, the next time you get the chance, try to ask her what she has been up to, how she is doing, maybe see if she wants to hang out or something? I'm sure she misses you too, maybe wants to get to know you too but also does not know how to start that conversation either. That's how I would feel about it anyway." you say as you stroke his hair.

"Why, so I can embarrass her and prove to her in person that I am a loser, deadbeat father? A walking trash pile of a person?" he pouted with a sniffle.

"Lucifer Morningstar," you say sternly looking down at him. You felt him flinch as you use his full name. "You stop that right now, that is not true and you are only hurting yourself and getting in your own way. You aren't doing anything to fix the problem if you don't at least try."

Lucifer groaned and pouted as he laid against your chest, "But it's scary though."

"Yes, and you are the King of Hell. You are apparently to scariest being in all of creation, and you are going to pout and cry into my chest and tell me you are scared of... trying to talk to your daughter?" you say with some sass.

Lucifer laid silently in you chest for a minute, starting to fidget with the soft fabric of your sweater, "Well... when you put it that way..."

"I make sense? I know, I'm a genius," you say with a sarcastic tone, "Look, if you try and she brushes you away, that's one thing. But you don't know if you don't try, ok?"

Lucifer continued to pout in you lap before giving you a begrudging "ok..."

"Good, I'm sure a good opportunity will arise at some point for you to try. I'm here for you when or if you need support around that," you reward him by nuzzling the top of his head and playing with his hair as you went back to watching your show. You felt Lucifer soften and purr as he enjoyed the sensory of you playing with his hair until, you guessed it, he fell asleep on your lap.

______________________________________________________________

Well, it did not take long for your little conversation to move into action. A couple weeks later, while at work, Larry came running in to find you in the mid-afternoon after one of your in-house sessions, a bit of urgency in his walk and face as he approached you.

"Babydoll! Change of plans to your schedule today, 'Lance' requested your start time be moved earlier and he said money was no object, so I'm cuttin' you loose to be with him for the rest of the day. Sounded like he was desperate for you today," said Larry in a hurry, but adding a little wiggle of his brows to the end of his statement.

That didn't sound good. Did something happen to him? "Uh, ok, no problem. How long until the car comes?"

Larry looked at his watch, "Five minutes."

Five minutes?! What the fuck Lucifer?!

You ran up to your room, got changed into more casual clothes, threw on your jacket, and ran out the down. Cynthhhhia tried to snark something at you on your way out the door, something about where you were going off in such a hurry with a bare face, but you didn't pay her any mind as you ran outside.

You saw the car and jumped into it, only to be surprised to see Lucifer sitting in the back of the car greeting you with a nervous smile.

"Lucifer!" you say after you close the door to that car, "Are you ok?! What's going on, you have never requested me early before. What is happening?!" You looked over him, nothing seemed to be physically wrong, he looked ok, just really nervous and... sweating a little?

Lucifer fidgeted nervously with his cane as he smiled at you, "Well, uhhh... Funny story! So, uh... Charlie called me, and... said she needed my help with something involving her hotel, and she invited me over, and I said yes!"

"Great!" you beamed, but you were still confused, you waited for the next part of the statement, but he just remained sitting with the big nervous smile on his face. "So... what does that have to do with me?"

Lucifer messed with his collar, "Well... uhhh... I said yes, and then I got off the phone, and I mayyyyy have started freaking out a little, and I did not want to go over there by myself, so I wanted to bring someone with me, and all I could think of who I could trust was you. So I called your boss, bought out your time for the rest of the day at double your usual price and now you are coming with me to see my daughter... right now." Lucifer sped through before ending with a big, very nervous smile.

Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell, had hired you, his regular prostitute, to go with him to see his estranged daughter that he had not really talked to in years, in public, at her hotel?!

Oh my fucking god.

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catlvrmax · 3 months

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RACE DAY & NIGHTCLUBS.

MV1 X FEM!READER

summary it's race day! you and amara decide to spend your sunday night out in the city. you make new friends in the process.

cw ONE use of [Y/N] - it was inevitable. idk the deets of how f1 works exactly, but i tried. this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

face claims girls on pinterest, but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want. (the pictures are for aesthetic purposes.)

a/n i feel like the alonso scene is kinda useless but idk i put it in ite.

masterlist | taglist

—

"I'm so excited!" Amara squealed as you grabbed her wrist to keep her close.

Today is race day. You woke up early, buzzing with anticipation. Amara tried to (poorly) contain her excitement and constant giggles until you had at least one cup of coffee in your system but failed ten minutes into breakfast. You don't blame her—she loves the sport.

She also loves the drivers. Loves the gossip and the drama on and off track. A new thing she has picked up, one you really want to put a stop to, is teasing you about a certain Dutchman. It was already bad enough that your conversation kept replaying in your head, and her playful teasing increased the thoughts of the two-time world champion.

You tolerated it on the walk to the circuit, rolling your eyes at her dreamy sighs and romantic scenarios, which she mostly made up to annoy you but changed the subject as you approached your destination. You refused to look or sound like a crazy fangirl in case... well, in case of actually running into him.

Arriving at the circuit and checking in the paddock had been a nightmare. You and Amara were not huge fans of crowded places you more than her, and the heat of the sun beating down on you made it ten times worse. Alas, you finally found yourselves away from the masses and around the corner of the Aston Martin hospitality building.

Amara was not paying attention to where she was going, and you were listening intently to the plans for the day. At the last minute, you saw a green shirt from the corner of your eye. You pulled on her wrist, and she stumbled towards you, but not before softly colliding with the side of the tall man in the green shirt.

"Oh, shit. ¡Lo siento, señor!" The apology comes in Spanish. (I am sorry, sir!)

"Esta bien, señorita? I was not looking in my path." You try to catch your jaw from falling to the ground when you eye the Green Shirt Guy. (Are you okay, miss?)

That's Fernando fucking Alonso. Fernando Alonso, the man you may or may not have a tiny crush on, is helping Amara stand up after she bent over to grab her discarded water bottle.

"Ah, si. Lo siento, señor Alonso. Estaba mostrando a mi amiga alrededor—"

"It's you from yesterday, no?! The girl with the great, uh, Spanish skills!" He talks to her as if they've known each other for years.

You stand there stunned, trying to compose yourself as your F1 crush stands before you, casually conversing with your best friend. Amara must be ready to explode right about now. You would laugh if you weren't fighting the urge to scream and run around from the joy.

You hear your name fall from Amara's lips, and your gaze focuses back on them. "That's my best friend. I gave her the hat!"

Fernando nods, his gaze on you as a polite smile causes his dimples to appear. You show him the signed Aston Martin cap by tilting your head.

"Amara said you are a big fan. I appreciate it. Do you want to take a photograph?"

"Uh-Yeah! Yeah, I'd love to!" You take your phone out. Oh-em-gee. Oh-em-gee. Is this really happening? "It's nice to meet you, sir!" You can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Fernando, being taller than you, asks for your phone. He raises it above your head and takes a couple of selfies. You muster the brightest smile, copying his funny faces and poses. When he hands it back, thank yous stumble from your lips faster than any car on the grid.

"Mucha suerte para ti hoy!" (Best of luck to you today!)

Fernando laughs but bows his head in appreciation. "Muchas gracias, querida." He turns to Amara, who's watching you both with a smile. "Enjoy the race, girls!"

And with that, he's walking away. You and Amara stand still for a few seconds, watching him disappear around the corner. You lock eyes, jaws on the floor. Squeals escape the both of you as you grab each other for support.

"Oh, my fucking God! We just—I—You—"

"I talked to Fernando fucking Alonso, and you took a photo with him. Shit!" Her tone betrays her disbelief.

"Oh, pinch me, 'mara, because this can't possibly be fucking real!" You cup your red cheek with one palm. "He remembered you. That's crazy!"

Amara giggles. "We talked in Spanish yesterday, and he told me he was impressed by my fluency!"

You smack her arm, suppressing a smile. "What? Why didn't you tell me all of that!? From past experiences, your Spanish has been shit."

She gasps dramatically, feigning offence. "How dare you, missy?! My Spanish is almost perfect. I just happened to get nervous around native speakers!"

You laugh and raise your hands in surrender, muttering my bad. Amara links her elbow with yours. "Are you ready to watch twenty cars go in weird-shaped circles?"

"Yup," you answer, popping the p before pulling her towards the building you will be watching from. "He is hotter in person." You cannot help but add.

Amara rolls her eyes but hums in agreement.

—

"Max Verstappen wins the Spanish Grand Prix! Another flawless performance by the current World Champion!"

You can't help but smile as the camera cuts to his team celebrating. Amara claps in delight, gathering her scattered things from the table to put inside her bag. The VIP room you watched the race from is slowly emptying as everyone walks down to where the celebration will take place. Amara wants to go and get as close as she can to the front, so she can take pictures of the podium. Lewis Hamilton came second, followed by George Russell, and your best friend was beaming and eager to see the podium from up close.

"You don't have to come with me. It's pretty tight there, with the crew, and fans, and stuff." You nod, thankful to her for not forcing you to tag along. "You can wait by the Red Bull hospitality. I think it's closer to the exit." She pauses as you stand from your seat. "And who knows. Maybe a Dutchman will pass by, and you deliver on your plan."

You huff at her wiggling eyebrows. "Seems kind of impossible since Max is celebrating on the podium, 'mara. You have a better chance at meeting him." You snort at her deflated expression.

"Oh, yeah, you're right." She shrugs. "Well, who knows? You might bump into each other again."

"I highly doubt that. Now, give me everything you don't need. I'll put it in my bag. I don't want you losing anything in that crowd."

Amara hands you her handbag and kisses you on the cheek before walking away. You're the only guest in the room now, accompanied by the bartender on the other side of the room. You contemplate staying here or leaving for the Red Bull hospitality. The track fills with fans, as is the ground below the podium. Lewis and George are already there, which means that—

"Here's Max Verstappen, the winner of this year's Spanish Grand Prix." Crofty, the commentator, announces the champion's arrival at the podium's top step.

He looks handsome, with a smile decorating his face and high cheekbones glistening with sweat. He waves at the crowd and takes his Pirelli hat off. His hair is messy, but it just makes him look hotter. Wow. You need to stop, or you'll salivate all over the bloody floor. You turn away from the TV as the Dutch national anthem starts playing.

One thought keeps repeating as you walk out of the building and to the sunny paddock. Max Verstappen is undoubtedly handsome.

—

You're aimlessly pacing in front of the Red Bull building, skipping through the pictures you'd taken. Most of them were of Amara posing in front of different buildings, eating or walking. You don't notice a chest heading your way until it's too late, and you collide. Ouch, you mumble as you rub your forehead.

"We should stop meeting like this." You recognise the voice immediately. How could you not? The man has been plaguing your thoughts.

Your heart is racing. You don't meet Max's eyes at first, hoping that a simple apology will make him walk away. "Oh, sorry. Wasn't paying attention."

"Are you lost again? Do you need help?" Max is quick to offer, but you shake your head negatively.

A hand comes forward, a featherlight touch on your elbow. You finally meet his gaze, rubbing on the spot that stings. What the fuck is he made of? Rock? His eyes hold concern as they rake over your face.

"What are you made of? Rock or something? That stung!" You offer a shy smile and a joke, for his worried expression makes your palms sweat.

He returns the smile. "Hey! You were the one not paying attention."

You shrug. "I was looking through the photos I've taken." You raise the old camera for him to see.

"Oh, yeah? Any cool ones?" He asks, stepping closer to you to see.

You notice a man behind the driver, wearing a Red Bull polo and an impatient expression. Anxiety sparks at your chest. He's got somewhere to be. Leave him alone. "Don't you have media duties to attend? You did just win a race." His smile turns guilty at your words.

"Yeah. I've got to change from this," he points at his racing suit," and attend interviews." He doesn't look too excited to do so.

"Well, then, I shouldn't be keeping you." You move a step back, nervously glancing at the other man.

Max does as well, the flush on his cheeks bolder than before. He opens his mouth, and you watch him have an internal war with himself before he decides to voice whatever thought he has. He motions to the man to go ahead without him. I'll be there in a minute, he mutters.

"I'd love to see those photographs."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you know you look like a fish as your mouth opens and closes. Your face heats up. "Uh—They're really nothing special. This is an old camera."

Max shrugs. "Why don't you give me your number? I can be the judge of that." Oh, shit. You nod.

He does an immaculate job of looking confident as if this isn't affecting him. A pretty girl agreed to give him his number. It's dangerous for a person with the number of young fans he has to give his phone number to a stranger, but he feels he can trust you. You haven't given him a reason to think you might be a crazy fangirl.

"D'you have a pen? I don't have my phone with me." You nod, rummaging through your handbag to find the emergency glittery pink pen.

Once you pull it out, Max can't help but comment on it. "Nice colour." You send him a playful glare.

He stretches his palm, and you softly pull his fingers closer. You scribble down your number, writing your first and last name underneath it. Max feels remorseful for not even having asked you your name. He knows that you no doubt know who he is now. He repeats it, and your breath hitches. He says it so perfectly, you might melt in a puddle. Caaaaaalm down. You sound insane. He's just stating your name.

"Pretty name," he thinks out loud. You don't believe you were meant to hear that, yet your face grows a shade darker.

Before you can say anything, the man shouts his name from the building's door. "Come on, mate! You're going to be late!" You can see the disappointment Max feels from his deflated smile.

"I have to go. Media duties." You chuckle when he rolls his eyes and nod. "I'll, uh, text you. For the pictures." He takes a step back, eyes locked with yours.

"For the pictures, yeah."

His face is flushed. You blame the race he just won. It's a poor excuse to give someone your number, no matter how famous they might be, yet you did. Amara will have a field day with this information. You half expect her to revive her old Tumblr account for the sake of acting on her scenarios.

"Bye." You wave, and he waves back, exchanging bashful smiles.

You watch his figure approach the man by the door when it hits you. "Oh, Max!" He turns quickly, eyes searching for yours. "Congratulations on your win!"

His eyes crinkle from the smile that he gives you. "Thank you!" He adds your name, and you don't deny it this time; Max Verstappen is extremely handsome, especially when he smiles.

—

MESSAGES: two. From > unknown number.

unknown number

hey, it's Max!

Verstappen. The guy in

the RB shirt.

you

hm... i don't know anyone

with this name. sorry!

max verstappen

Two-time world champion?

you

nope.

never met any world champions

in my life, sorry.

max verstappen

I helped you yesterday

and saw you today outside of

the RB hospitality.

This is [Y/N], right?

you

🤣 yes!

i'm just messing with you max!

max verstappen

*phew* had me thinking you

gave me the wrong number

you

*dramatic gasp*

i am NOT that cruel, mr verstappen!

btw, i havent transferred the photos yet!

camera's charging.

max verstappen

That's totally okay!

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

you

contemplating whether i should share my

whereabouts with a random man....

max verstappen

HEY! you've met me!

two times already!!!

you

and how do i know this is the REAL

Max Verstappen????????

max verstappen

....you gave me your phone number.

you

oh, yeah. that makes sense.

i'm very sleep deprived haha

max verstappen

😂😂

you

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

↪ to answer your previous question,

me and my bff are going clubbing

in Barcelona!

max verstappen

Oh, that sounds fun!

you

i'm secretly terrified of getting lost

in the city, but hey! i'm only here for another

night. might as well have fun

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

max verstappen

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

↪ THAT'S TRUE. Carlos is an

expert in all things nightclub when we're

here for the GP

you

you have any places to recommend?

amara is still looking on trip advisor

max verstappen

😨 TRIP ADVISOR?

you

WELL WE HAD TO START SOMEWHERE

max verstappen

the Vault is a really great place. Great

drinks and the DJ plays nice songs.

You should try that one!

you

i'm guessing it's expensive

as fuck

max verstappen

not as expensive as it is packed

BUT there's always the Disco Diva

and other clubs down that street

you

max verstappen, you know your

clubs, i see.

(the disco diva? really?)

max verstappen

you caught me ahahahahah

(the disco diva? really?)

↪ it plays really cool stuff

you

it plays really cool stuff

↪ i trust ur judgement.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

max verstappen

how do I know I'm not giving away

my location to a super crazy

fangirl?

you

you dont! YOU wanted MY number.

soooo.... 🤷🏻‍♀️

max verstappen

LOL. you're funny.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

↪ I was thinking of gaming, but the

boys want to party.

you

WELL, YAH! you totally deserve to let loose!

max verstappen

Hm, I might think about it.

Ha! Maybe we'll find each other in the club!

you

hahahahah it would be pretty embarrassing

if i ran into you again.

for the third time.

have fun with whatever you choose

to do, Maximus Verstappen.

max verstappen

that is definitely NOT my first name.

but i thank you, schat 😁

seen, now.

—

"Who are you talking to?" Amara asks, her eyes glued on TripAdvisor.

"H-Huh?" You barely register her words, fingers tapping on your screen incredibly fast.

"You've been giggling for, like, ten minutes now. I'm assuming it's not your mom. She's probably having lunch."

"Oh, you know. Just this guy I bumped into today. You might know him. His name's Max. Ma—"

"Fucking Verstappen?!" Amara all but yells, sitting up swiftly.

Your eyes meet her shocked expression, and you can't help the chuckle that escapes at her priceless reaction. You shrug in response, feigning nonchalance. Truth is, your best friend has hyped this guy up a lot, and your poor heart beats somewhat faster now that you're talking to him.

"You told me to get his number, didn't you?"

"W-Well—Yeah. But I didn't actually think you'd do it!"

You gasp as if offended. "You dare think so little of me? Think that I wouldn't honour my promise to feed your delusions?"

Amara laughs, lightly smacking your arm. "Okay, weirdo. Tell me what the fuck happened."

After pushing yourself to a sitting position, you tell her every detail of your second meeting with the world champion, including the texts. Amara's reactions are comical. At the end of your story-telling process, she's sitting there, with her jaw mere inches from touching the ground.

"So, do you think we'll meet him in that nightclub?"

You shrug. "I don't know. He said he'd think about it." You show her your phone, scrolling to the text he had sent you mere minutes ago. "Doesn't sound that eager to me."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to go by the Vault, or whatever its name was." Amara wiggles her eyebrows.

"Are you trying to get me laid with a celebrity?"

She grimaces. "Pfft. He's hot. You're pretty. If you take out the millions on Instagram—" "—and his bank account." Amara shoots you a pointed look. "He looks like a pretty normal guy." She exhales before continuing. "You should have fun. We didn't come here just for me. And he seems like a lot of fun."

Amara wasn't wrong. Yes, you had come here for the Grand Prix, which was her thing, but there was plenty of time for you to have fun. And if fun meant drinking and meeting with an extremely handsome guy, who were you to refuse? You'd probably never see him again, either.

—

views 96 / views 242

—

"Finally!" You shout excitedly.

After waiting for a solid thirty minutes in a very long line outside of Club Vault and paying an entry fee that you're sure is way too expensive, you have finally made it inside. The place is flooded with people drinking, dancing, and talking. The lights are dim, and the music loud; a promising, fun night.

You barely dodge swaying on the dancefloor as Amara drags you to the bar. She orders for you while you look around. The DJ and his setup is on a balcony, above which there is a VIP sign. You squint your eyes as another face comes into view. Is that...Lando Norris?

You blindly reach for Amara, turning her around by the wrist. "Hey, isn't that Norris?"

Despite the ear-deafening music, you're able to hear your best friend's gasp. "Oh, my fucking God! Yes, that's him!" She looks at you, a knowing smile on her lips. "Does that mean that he's here—"

"I don't know!" The bartender nods at you, showing you your drinks. "Let's drink!"

And that's exactly what you do. Your drinks are cold enough to help with the heat of dancing, and you can't lie, Lando—with the help of the actual DJ—plays decent music. Max was right about the place being fun. Amara is doing her weird dance moves, and you're copying her, trying to best her.

You're two drinks in, back turned to the DJ booth, when your best friend's eyes widen, dance moves faltering, and you hear everybody cheer. She elbows you to turn around, and your breath hitches: it's Max. He's actually here with Lando and the DJ. And your heart is racing with excitement. He waves at the crowd below, and everyone cheers louder.

Your lip twitches as an idea forms in your mind. Taking your phone out of your boot (an extremely smart and safe place to hide it—if it fits—btw), you snap a picture of the champion, sending it to your chat.

—

MESSAGES: two. To > max verstappen.

you

one file attached.

just found your lookalike!

max verstappen

THATS ME! WhEere are yoU?!?!8@

you

how much have you had to drink? lol

max verstappen

not drunk .

just shvoing past poepel to get to you

where re uoy?????

you

by the bar

max verstappen

real helpful

you

im wearing black?

seen, now

—

You wait a couple of seconds for the grey bubble to appear. When you don't receive a response, you shrug, putting your phone back in its hiding spot. Your gaze focuses on Amara; she's biting her lip while holding two shots in each hand.

"I stole them!" is all she says.

Your jaw drops, and you giggle, accepting the tiny glasses. You yell cheers before chugging down both of them. Tequila. Nice.

You take a step back, eyes blinking away tears caused by the burn in your throat. You don't realise you've stepped into someone's toes until a shout almost bursts your eardrums.

"Jesus Christ!" You yell, covering the side of your head.

Turning around, you're faced with the one and only; Max Verstappen, holding on to the bar railing with a pained expression. Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull.

"Oh, shit! Are you okay?" You can barely hear yourself.

He nods, throwing a smile your way. "Yeah, I'm good! It's nice to see you!" You're barely able to read his lips.

A pinch on your lower back startles you, and you turn around with a gasp. Amara's standing there, expectant, wide eyes moving from you to Verstappen.

"Oh, Max! This is my best friend, Amara!"

She smiles politely, shaking his offered hand. "Nice to meet you!" You wonder if she's close to passing out from internal fangirling.

His eyes return to you. "Hey, you wanna join my table?"

Shaking your head with a confused grimace, you shout. "I can't hear anything you're saying!"

"What?!"

"I can't hear any—"

It's futile to communicate this way, he decides. Max's slightly cold hands are suddenly pulling on your wrists, gently guiding you closer to him. Goosebumps take over your entire body, forearm burning as he moves his fingers to your elbow, keeping you steady, and he leans toward your ear.

"Wanna join me and my friends?" He feels your breath hitch and pulls back to meet your hesitant gaze.

"We don't want to bother you," you say once you pull him down.

Max shakes his head. "Nonsense! I won the race, and I want to celebrate with my friends."

He hears your breathy chuckle. "We're friends, now?"

"Unless you're some super crazy fangirl I should be worried about." The smile in his voice gives away his amusement. He's quoting his texts.

You pause for a second. Knowing Amara, she would agree immediately. You should have fun, you recall her words from earlier. And he seems like a lot of fun. Yeah. She's right.

"Let me ask 'mara." You point to your best friend, awkwardly standing by the bar.

He watches you talk in her ear, a smile forming on your best friend's lips before she eagerly nods. "You're coming?" He asks once you approach him as if he hadn't been staring at you already.

"Okay." As soon as you nod, Max's smile widens, eyes shining.

You nod, and he feels his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. "C'mon," goosebumps raise on your exposed arms as Max grabs your hand. His hand is so soft. "I don't want you getting lost." The wink he throws your way only fuels the flush on your neck and cheeks.

It's definitely going to be a fun night.

The walk to the VIP section is extremely difficult, with Max getting recognised and patted on the back every few seconds. When you finally make it, you sigh in relief before Max pulls you both by the wrist to meet his friends. Be cool, you mouth to Amara who only nods, wide-eyed.

"Pierre and Kika, Charles and Alex, this is [Y/N] and Amara!" You're sure they can barely hear him over the loud music but wave at them anyway. Charles shares a look with Pierre, the latter unable to contain his smile.

Max leans down, his nose brushing your temple. "Wait just a moment. Lando's around here somewhere." Before you can say a word, he flashes you a smile and disappears into the crowd, leaving you gaping like a fish.

You have no time to recover when the pretty girls approach you. Alex introduces herself as Alexandra, but she doesn't mind going by Alex. Kika's name is Francisca, but she goes by Kika. It's nice to meet them, and you don't hesitate to tell them so.

"Shots?" Amara reappears with four shot glasses passing them to each of you. "Cheers!" You clink your glasses before downing them.

"Oh, are you doing shots without me?!" A new voice pops up from behind you. Amara's eyes widen momentarily, meeting yours in poorly contained excitement.

You turn, gaze landing on Lando Norris and then gluing on Max Verstappen. This lighting makes him look even hotter. Is it normal to be thinking that? Probably not.

He introduces you to the tipsy-looking Brit, who shakes your hands in return. Amara's pulled to the side by Kika, something about doing more shots, and Charles motions for Max to go over to him. Once you're alone with Lando, a smile breaks onto his face.

"He's said a lot about you!" Your brows furrow, confused.

"What? That I tend to get lost easily in big places?" You nervously laugh, but Lando just shakes his head.

"Somethin' like tha'!"

—

views 120 / views 218

—

You haven't had this much fun in a while. You and Amara usually go to two clubs as a duo, but you admit having more people to dance and do shots with is way more fun. You're usually the sober one, having a higher tolerance for alcohol than your best friend, and this time you're extra careful since you're in a foreign place.

At some point during your dance battle with Kika and Amara, you grow tired. As much as you liked exaggerating your moves, your boots were made for walking, not jumping. Max had been out of your vision for a while, and you decided to look for him. He wasn't hard to find, considering he was nursing a drink on a couch further away from the action.

"Hey!" You plop down, bumping your elbow with his.

Max grinned. "Hey, stranger. Are you having fun?"

You nod excitedly. "Your friends are really nice." He snorts at that. "No, really! Drive to Survive does justice to none of you!"

Max's eyes widen, mouth hanging in shock. "Your source of information is a Netflix show?"

"Hey! I had to start from somewhere. I knew next to nothing about racing."

Conversing with Max comes naturally. He's funny, and he listens to what you have to say. He asks about your job: a photographer for brands. He laughs when you tell him you prefer the make-up brands because they're easier to manage than people.

He explains racing to you in simple terms. You nod along, trying your best to take in the information. It's harder with all the music and dancing bodies, but you make it work. You've shuffled even closer to him as Max leans down to talk directly in your ear while his hands move animatedly in front of you.

At some point, the conversation shifts to cats. You're delighted to learn that he has not one, but two big babies. Jimmy and Sassy. Max is a very proud cat dad, you conclude, from the excitement that exudes from every pore of his body as he slides from picture to picture.

"Oh my goodness! They're so cute!" You try not to literally squeal as Max stumbles upon a picture of them napping on his chest.

"They sleep all day and ask for treats all night." You laugh as he rolls his eyes, probably recalling every time this has happened.

"Oh, I'd love to meet them one day. They look lovely!"

"Yeah, I could introduce you someday," he says, and you turn to look at him with a huge smile.

"I should bring my Cheddar when it happens."

"Cheddar?"

"My cat. He's a big fluffball." You reach for your phone, unlocking it to search for pictures of your orange cat.

"And you named him Cheddar? After the cheese?" He looks at you incredulously.

You giggle at his expression. "He's as orange as the cheese. It was my mom's idea to name him that."

You turn your phone his way, showing him a selfie of the fluffiest cat Max has ever seen on top of your shoulders. You're clearly giggling in it, a hand over your mouth. Cute, he thinks.

"He's adorable."

"And fat," you add.

Tapping a most recent picture, you show it to Max. Cheddar is on his back, his fat ass making him look like a pear. Your mom had sent you this just a day before.

"He's staying with my mom right now. And she's feeding him more than needed."

"We should arrange a playdate." You chuckle at Max's suggestion.

"Sure, if you fly out to England."

Before Max can respond, a very loud and drunk Brit makes his way to you. Lando grins when he spots you two sitting close, indiscreetly winking at Max. Your face feels warm.

"Do you guys wan' t' leave?" You barely make out his words.

Charles notices the three of you and pulls a dancing Alex with him, who pulls Amara with her. The three make their way to where you're seated.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Lando turns to him. "Are you hungry, mate?"

Charles shakes his head, leaning close to Alex to ask her the same. She also shakes her head with an apologetic smile.

"I am!" Amara nudges Lando, and his eyes light up.

He turns to Max and you. "Me and my new friend," he pulls Amara by the shoulders, and she drunkenly stumbles, "are hungry. Will you take us somewhere to eat?"

You look at Max, who mirrors your smiling expression. Lando says something about Max promising to be his chauffeur if he got too drunk.

"I could eat," you shrug. Max nods, agreeing.

He stands up, looking at the drunk pair. "Okay, let's go."

—

views 68 / views 95

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#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen smau #formula one #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris #charles leclerc #pierre gasly #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism #friends to lovers #max verstappen fluff #fluff #frank writes

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ninii-winchester · 3 months

Text

Chosen Affection

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word Count : 3.3k

Warnings : slight angst, language, Lucifer being Lucifer, soft smut at the end (nothing explicit) MDNI. Unedited.

Part 2 to Deepest Desire

A/n : This is a Supernatural x Lucifer crossover fic. I’ve only ever watched a few episodes of Lucifer. This is a work of fiction, I don’t own Supernatural or Lucifer. They belong to CW and Netlfix respectively.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

After talking with Sam, Y/n went back inside the bar and Dean followed silently. Chloe could tell Y/n had been crying and the tension was obvious. Lucifer eyed the couple, clearly enjoying the drama, which he created in the first place. Not intentionally but he did.

"I think it's best we get to the Bunker and see what we can do from there." Y/n told the other three, Dean opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off. "Sam agrees."

"The Bunker?" Chloe asked confusion lacing her voice.

"It's our workplace. We live there too." Y/n replied, Dean's heart squeezed the she didn't call it home. He knew it was far from homey but that's the closest thing they've had to a place of their own.

"Sounds fun." Lucifer said standing up from his seat.

The quartet left the bar. Dean watched as Y/n slid into the back seat of the Impala, he sighed before he made his way to the driver's seat. Lucifer slid into the passenger's seat while Chloe joined Y/n in the back. He watched her from the rear view mirror hoping to catch her eye but she never looked his way.

The drive back was awkward and tense. Dean couldn't bear the uncomfortable silence so stepped on the gas, wanting to reach their destination as soon as possible. They soon arrived at the Bunker and Dean opened the huge door allowing them to enter. The quartet descended the stairs and Y/n spotted Sam sitting at one of the tables in the library, his laptop opened in front of him.

Sam noticed the presence of other people, and looked away from the screen. He looked at the man in black suit with weary eyes, not feeling completely at ease in his presence. Chloe noticed his timidness and introduced herself.

"I'm Detective Chloe Decker." She held her hand for Sam to shake. "This is..uh my partner, Lucifer."

"Sam Winchester." He shook her hand and nodded at Lucifer who stood there with his hands in his pant pockets. That was so awkward that even, ever the friendly, Sam had a hard time clearing the air.

"Alright." Y/n broke the silence before she went crazy with all the palpable tension around the room. "We need to send them back home as soon as possible. Sam have you got anything yet?" She questioned walking towards him as he sat back on his chair.

"So I've been searching the internet for a way to open a portal to another universe and so far I've got anything." He explained running a hand through his hair. "Although I've yet to search the the files in the library."

"Yeah the Men of Letters might have key laying around here." Y/n commented with a roll of her eyes.

Sam noticed the lack of participation from his brother, he didn't fail to notice the distance between Dean and Y/n, it seemed as she was avoiding him at all costs.

"Is there anyway we can help?" Chloe asked from where she stood.

"Don't you want to rest a bit? I'm sure you're tired after being thrown into another universe." Y/n said softly.

"I already feel like we're asking too much from you people." Chloe replied bashfully. "We can help."

"Its fine-"

"Why don't you say it out right that you don't trust us with your precious files filled with important information." Lucifer interrupted Y/n with a smirk on his face.

"You know what, yes. I don't trust you. At all! So you shut your trap before I throw you in the dungeon alright?" Y/n snapped, directing all of her pent up anger towards Lucifer.

"And just who do you think you're talking to?" The devil asked menacingly, walking towards her. Dean was quick with his feet stepping in front of her, his gun pointing towards Lucifer.

"Don't you dare." Dean threatened.

The man just laughed before speaking, "is this your way of sucking up to her? It's quite pathetic if you ask me."

Sam's brow raised in confusion at his words, before things could get worse Chloe jumped in, "Lucifer, back off. Dean please put the gun down." Dean glared at Lucifer still pointing his gun at him. At Chloe's intervention Lucifer stepped back, prompting Dean to lower his gun. "It's best if we rest." Chloe looked at Y/n and she nodded.

"Dean will show you where you'll stay." Sam spoke, Dean gave him a look that said i-will? and the younger brother shrugged. When the others left the library Sam turned to Y/n. "So are you gonna tell me or I'm gonna have to play twenty questions with you?" She sighed before filling him in.

"It hurts, Sam." She felt herself tear up. Sam immediately went to comfort her. She sobbed in his chest as he held her. "After everything we've been through and it still wasn't enough..."

"Hey don't say that. Maybe you should talk to him, hear what he has to say." Sam suggested. She knew she had to face him sooner or later. "It's late, how about you go and get some rest, you came back from a hunt, must be tired." She nodded her head before leaving his embrace.

She left the library, walking through the hallways she debated whether she should go to their shared bedroom or to the room she stayed in before she moved in his'. That room hasn't been used in a long time. Before she knew it she was standing in front of their shared bedroom, her feet unintentionally dragged her there. She sighed before entering the room. After taking a quick shower she settled into bed. As tired as she was, she couldn't get her brain to keep repeated those moments from the bar.

"Amara" Dean's voice kept repeating that name in her head.

The door to the room opened, Dean entered the room as quietly as possible, assuming she's asleep. He'd gone to library and offered Sam to help but his younger brother told him he needed to be elsewhere and refused his offer politely. Dean's eyes landed her figure on the bed, eyes widen open staring at ceiling.

"Y/n." Dean called out approaching the bed slowly.

"Not now, Dean." She replied, unblinking.

Dean nodded before changing into comfortable clothes and slipping into bed. He knew she wouldn't be in here if she wasn't comfortable sharing a bed with him, however he kept his distance incase she didn't want him touching her. He knows she's hurting, but her ignorance is killing him and the last thing he needs is her pushing him away.

"Did they settle in okay?" Y/n questioned after a minutes of silence.

"Yeah." Dean replied. "Lucifer is a dick though." He added with an eye roll.

"He's the devil, what do you expect."

Minutes passed and none of them spoke, Y/n couldn't fall asleep for the life of her, she kept tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. She wanted to hold him, she wanted him to hold her. She was too hurt to make a move and her ego was too big to ask him.

Noticing her restless Dean couldn't help but blurt out, "Can I hold you?" Part of him wanted her to get comfortable and part of him wanted to hold her in his arms since he couldn't ever sleep peacefully without her. He didn't know if he asked it for her sake or his own.

She scolded herself for being so eager to be in his arms but she couldn't help but nod her head. He didn't waste a second wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to his chest, so her back rested against it. He snuggled his face in the crook of her neck.

"I love you, sweetheart." He whispered in her ear, placing a soft kiss on her neck. She shuddered at his action and that was the first time in forever she didn't say it back.

Dean woke up to an empty bed. The clock read 2:27 and he shoved the covers off of him haphazardly and bolted out of the room. First thing that came to his mind that she left him. With hurried footsteps he reached the library, his eyes fell on Sam who was surrounded by files, books and empty beer bottles. His breathing picked up, Sam opened his mouth to question his brother but Y/n's voice interrupted him.

"Dean?" She called out his name, noticing his disheveled state. He turned around to see her standing at the entrance of the war room with two mugs of coffee in her hands. He didn't answer her, instead he took large steps towards her and hugged her tightly. Her arms were angled awkwardly and she somehow managed not to spill the scalding hot coffee over themselves. She sent Sam a confused look over Dean's shoulder and he shrugged, not knowing either.

"I thought you left." Dean mumbled in her shoulder.

"I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd help Sam." Dean nodded before pulling away. An awkward silence followed after. She walked over to Sam putting a mug in front of him.

"Did you guys find something?" Dean asked following behind and her taking a seat.

"Actually we did. There's a few ways to open a portal. There's energy manipulation, magic ritual, or using an ancient artefact or finding a weak spot." Sam explained taking a sip of his coffee.

"But we don't have ingredients for a magic ritual and we certainly do not have the specific artefact." Y/n commented.

"So either energy manipulation or finding a weak spot?" Dean questioned looking at her.

"Maybe but considering Lucifer has to absorb energy from a volcano or a thunderstorm, I don't think it's safe to let him juice up." She replied with a concerned voice.

"Agreed." Sam said rubbing his eyes. "Our best bet is finding a weak spot. From there he can open a portal by using his own powers saying this incantation." Sam turned his screen towards his brother.

"So were do find this 'weak spot'?" The older Winchester wondered out loud.

"It's usually around places like deep woods, ruins or caves. Lucifer can sense it since he has powers." Y/n answered.

"So let's do it." Dean said getting up.

"Wait, now?" Y/n exclaimed.

"Yeah now." Sam agreed with Dean. "The sooner he goes back, the better."

Y/n nodded in understanding, she told them she'd go and get Lucifer and Chloe while the Winchester brothers geared up. Y/n quickly changed and met up with the others. They'd decided to go to the forest. It took them three hours to reach their destination. They got out of the Impala and ventured into the woods.

"Thank you for helping us Y/n." Chloe said as they continued to trek through the dark forest.

"That’s what we do but you’re welcome." She smiled at the blonde. The three men walked ahead of them Sam and Dean constantly asking Lucifer if he felt anything. And the devil kept giving them snippy replies.

"You know.." Chloe started gaining Y/n's attention. "I may not know you all for long but I'm observant. You're good people. I can see Dean truly loves you, whatever he said back there it hurt him too." She said looking at Y/n. It sure felt like the detective knew what she was talking about. "You should give him a chance to explain." Y/n mumbled a quiet 'yeah' with nod.

"This is it." Lucifer said loudly. "I can feel it." He held his arm up feeling up an open space.

"Alright, now channel your powers and focus on the spot. Think of the place you want to go. Your world." Lucifer did as Sam told him to. Sam handed Lucifer a piece of paper. "Now say this." They could see a split forming above them and bright light emerging from it.

"Ad universum alterum patefacio, vires

invoco. Portalem aperire, vires occultas evocare. Tempus et spatium frangere, iter transire concedere." Lucifer read out loud and the five of them watched in awe as a portal finally opened.

A strong wind roared through the landscape, its force palpable and relentless. Trees bent and swayed, their leaves and branches rustling loudly as they were whipped around. The air was filled with the sound of howling gusts, the sheer strength of the wind created an atmosphere of raw, untamed energy.

"Holy fucking-" Y/n exclaimed, Dean instinctively moving in front of her.

Lucifer breathed heavily, panting as he stood back.

"Alright. You ready to go back?" Lucifer asked Chloe and she nodded. She quickly hugged Y/n and thanked Sam and Dean.

"I have to say, you three really are something." Lucifer said with a smirk. "And I thank you for your help." He added. The three of them nodded.

They watched as Lucifer and Chloe jumped into the portal and it closed as soon as they fell through. The wind stopped and the light was gone. Sighs of relief were heard in the complete silence of the forest.

"Felt weird being thanked by the devil." Y/n chuckled as they walked back to the car.

"You're telling me." Sam added.

Dean was silent the whole ride back to the Bunker. The sun has already risen, the world felt calm and serene, filled with a promise of a new day. Y/n hoped this new day brings her some peace. When they reached to the Bunker Dean left the car without saying a word.

“You’re gonna talk to him?” Sam asked looking worried. He knew now that Dean didn’t have something to focus on, his mind would be all over the place.

“Yeah.” She replied walking inside. When she opened the door to their shared bedroom she saw Dean sitting on the edge of the bed. He had something is his hands but quickly hid it when he noticed her, though he fiddling with a set of keys in his hands. She took smalls steps and sat beside him. A few seconds passed in silence when Dean chuckled humourlessly,

“You know,” he started, “I was waiting for so long, I didn’t want it to go this way.” She looked at him, confusion written all over her face. “I thought I’d do it when you’d come back from that hunt, take you out somewhere fancy, dinner and all.”

“Dean-”

“I bought us a house.” He interrupted her. He showed the keys that were in his hands. “I thought I’d tell you after I’d ask you, and you’d hopefully say yes, we’ll start a new life. You, me our kids. Together. No more monsters, no more hunting.” Her heart rate picked up, “I should’ve known better though, when has anything gone the way we’ve wanted it.” He moved to kneel in front of her holding her hands in his.

“She,” Dean grimaced, “her and I were bound because of the mark, the mark may have gone from my arm but it’s has left something behind, it’s an urge. I don’t desire her at all, not her physical self anyway. It’s something I don’t like admitting out loud but there’s something in me that’s dark and sometimes it makes me want to do things that I did when I had that mark.” She let out a gasp at his confession.

“Dean I had no idea.” A few tears escaped her eyes.

“But you know what keeps me sane? You.” He cupped her cheek in his hand wiping away her tears. “You’re my light, you vanish all the darkness inside of me. You’re the one I want, you’re the one I crave. You’re the one that makes me want to be better. I’m not bound to you, you’re a conscious choice sweetheart. Everyday, every second you’re the one I want.” He grabbed something from beside her, she hadn’t even notice it was there all the time. She gasped again when she saw what it was, a small velvet box.

“Y/n, sweetheart, I love you, I always have and I always will. I know I’ve hurt you baby, but if you give me this one chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I desire you. Will you marry me?”

She couldn’t believe what she heard, did he just say he’s giving up hunting? Getting a house? Getting married? Kids?

“You, Dean Winchester, has decided to quit hunting?” She questioned, thinking somehow she’s didn’t hear him right.

“Yeah,” he chuckled through tears. “And hopefully spend the rest of my life with you, Mrs. Winchester, if you would.” He gestured to the ring in his hand.

“I like the sound of that.” She teased with a smile on her face.

“So will you?” He asked again, not believing her until she says it out loud.

“Yes Dean, I’ll marry you.” He didn’t waste a second slipping the ring on her finger.

“I love you so much.” He pressed his lips to her, kissing ber softly, pouring all of his love into it. Their lips moved in perfect sync, a soft brush sent shivers down their spines. Time seemed to slow, and the world around them faded into a blur. The warmth of their breath mingled, and the closeness created a cocoon of shared emotion. The gentle pressure and the delicate movement of their lips, created a bond that felt both timeless and immediate.

“I love you too, Dean.” She panted as they pulled apart. “I won’t lie, I was hurt pretty badly when you said that. But I had no idea where it came from and it made me insecure. I thought you wanted her.” She spoke lowly as if sharing a secret.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but after everything, I didn’t want you to worry. You’d finally had some peace.”

“I understand but from now on, no more secrets okay? I want you to be open with me, yeah?”

“I promise.” He kissed her again, laying her back on the bed. He hovered above her, his hands placed on either side of her head. She let out a soft moan as he kissed her neck and moved to her collarbone. “Let me make love to you, baby.”

She nodded, pulling him back up, kissing him passionately. “Show me how much you love me.” He gently pulled her shirt over her head, and she gripped at his’, indicating she wanted it off and he quickly removes it. It didn’t take long for them to get rid of all their clothing, leaving them completely naked.

He dragged his fingers delicately over her cheek, down her neck and chest. She flipped them over making him lay on his back. She bit his neck, nibbling and leaving dark purple hickeys. She moved to his chest, kissing her way down to his stomach before she could go any further he stopped her.

“Later, baby. I need to feel you.” Dean flipped them over again. He watched her flushed face, leaning on his one arm, he reached a hand between their bodies and gripped himself, leading himself to her. They moaned in unison as he penetrated her. “Fuck baby.” He groaned in her neck.

Moans and groans filled the room as they continue to loose themselves into heated passion. Wrapped up in each others embrace, bare skin pressed together, their hearts beating in unison. Coming undone together basking in the aftershocks of their passionate love making they laid entwined in the soft sheets, their breaths slowly synchronized, a comfortable silence enveloped them. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a sound that had become her lullaby.

Tags:

@fullbelieverheart @spnfamily-j2 @n-o-p-e-never @montyrokz @deangirl96

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anticanonsposts · 7 months

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maybe konig with reader who has general anxiety disorder? like calming them down when they get worked up and reassuring them?

sorry if you're uncomfortable writing about this, no pressure💞💞

good lord this has been in my inbox for a minute, I am so sorry it took so long!!!!!! but i hope you like it <3

cw: talk about anxiety, bodily symptoms, reader is chubby <3, slight angst, i think thats it, completely sfw

wc: 1, 082

overall headcanons then a little oneshot after

whenever you're anxious...

he’s really good at picking up on this kind of behavior

he can tell when you are really nervous

and in general I think he is really good at picking up on your mood and emotions already

since he also has anxiety I think he would be especially good at keeping tabs on yours

in public he would literally just give you his left hand and let it go limp, letting you do whatever you wanted to it/with it

i like to think he would also gently press down on the middle of your back or a shoulder in an attempt to get you to stop tensing up

he loves how understanding you are of his anxieties so he wants nothing more than to return that back to you

Anxiously, you sat at your desk, trying to distract yourself with your work in front of you. Fortunately your boss had a long list of things for you to do today. You needed something to distract you because last night you and your roommates got into a huge fight. You lived with three other people and last night some drama had gone down, so your anxiety was as high as ever. You had always tried to keep everyone happy, talk about issues when needed, and to be mature about problems. But unfortunately not all of your roommates shared your desire for peace or maturity level. So misunderstanding after miscommunication after another happened, and now you were stuck sitting with so much emotion, your nerves felt like they were on fire. You kept feeling drops in your stomach each time your phone buzzed. The fight had started over text and then escalated to the four of you speaking to each other. Then this morning there was so much tension in the house and everything felt so awkward. Because of some stuff in your past, instability in the home has always made you very nervous and upset. It was your one safe space that was now being threatened. But now everyone seemed to be mad at everyone else and you were trying to pick up the pieces. Once again getting lost in your thoughts, your body jolted again as your phone buzzed. But this time it was a text from your boyfriend König. You had sort of told him what was going on the night before, but you didn’t go into very much detail. However, he knew something was definitely off, in the way you were texting, he could tell that you were not feeling the best. His text was simply asking you how you were feeling. You respond with a quick ‘I’m fine!’ but he sees right through this, and before you know it your phone is buzzing with his picture displayed. Picking up the call, before you can say anything he asks,

“You’re finished working soon ja? I’ll be outside waiting ok?”

“Thank you König” you reply before you both hang up.

You were thankful that he never pushed you to give details too fast. Your anxiety was a pretty prominent part of your personality and could be a lot to handle sometimes. But König was very patient with you, always giving you reassurance when you needed it, listening to you talking through your issues while still knowing when to cut you off. He is getting better and better at gauging when you are done ranting and just getting into an obsessive never ending loop of worry. So he usually tries to avert your attention to something else and distract you.

Finally your shift is over and you head outside and see König parked along the street. As soon as he sees you he gets out of the driver's seat to open the passenger side for you.

Before you could even say anything, he says, “Do you wanna go to Culvers?” (I’m from the midwest).

“Yes please.” you reply, giving him a small smile, sliding your left hand into his right.

The drive there didn’t take very long but König didn’t once ask you about how you were feeling or what had been going on. He instead asked you what he should get since he isn’t as familiar with the delicacy that is midwestern fast food.

Once you are there, you go inside, receiving the normal amount of stares you two normally do. You being a drop dead gorgeous chubby girl and him being, well, tall. After you two order, get your food, and find a semi-secluded booth he lets you dig in and get a few bites of food in.

“Ok, you’re fed liebling, so, spill. What happened?” he asks, moving his head slightly so his eyes could meet yours.

Swallowing the bite of food in your mouth, you took a deep breath and told him. Told him how the fight started, what it was about, how you were feeling, how your thoughts were driving you completely insane and that you were drowning in overthinking. That your stomach had hurt all day because of it, and even while you were explaining everything to him, your heartbeat was racing and your breathing became uneven.

Noticing this, he reached his arm across the table and started rubbing small circles on the inside of your wrist. Taking another deep breath you leaned back in your booth seat. Feeling a lot better that you were able to rant to König, knowing that given his issues with anxiety, that he was never going to judge you. He understood exactly how you felt, and it always hurt his heart to know that you also had issues with anxiety. He never wanted you to feel that pain, so he always made sure to be a listening ear whenever you felt like this.

“Thank you König” you say, pulling your wrist back so that you are fiddling with his fingers.

“Of course y/n, its my job.” he responds, softly.

The two of you finish your food, and König drives you to your apartment. After asking him to spend the night, he more than happily agrees. The rest of the night is spent still worrying about your roommates, but finally once everyone is home. You all have a talk in the living room. And König is there, waiting for you in your room when you are done. Drama taken care of, supportive partner, and mind at ease, you finally rest your tired body and mind, cuddled up next to König.

teehee hope you liked it, i have a couple more requests in my inbox that will be out soon! in the meantime if anyone wants anything else, don't be afraid to ask :)

#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #konig smut #konig x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig blurb #könig imagine #könig x you #konig blurb #konig imagine #fluff #cute #anxiety #sfw

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the-girl-down-the-street · 3 months

Note

saw ur post about indycar so i’m gonna try my best to sum it up…

expect chaos, silly season is not a season… it is silly life. we’ve had 4 drivers in one car this year, with 3 of those in a matter of like 2 months.

the racing itself is highly entertaining, seriously, expect chaos (good chaos!) it’s relatively easy to understand, i grasped it really easily! to actually learn about it, i recommend mama_gforce on twitter, she has some great infographics to learn the basics, i highly suggest reading ‘a beginners guide to indycar’ which is her pinned post! but i believe it’s also posted on here if you search the same thing.

there’s also a docuseries called 100 days to indy, available on the cw and netflix, there’s currently 2 full seasons out. (however if ur outside of the us i believe you have to jump thru some hoops to watch it..)

and the indycar youtube channel posts tons of previous races free for viewing! def recommend downloading the indycar app if you do plan on watching!!

the fandom is literally so nice and welcoming, it’s kind of like a small town if that makes sense? you’ll recognize a lot of people, everybody knows everybody! the drivers are really active on social media and frequently interact with fans. (which i cannot stress enough, they will most likely, at some point, see smthn you post about them which is both cool and horrifying LMAO)

some notable highly referenced moments/jokes include; ‘the hate cauldron’ a cauldron commentators made and filled with the jerseys and hats of drivers and team-owners involved in drama at the time. then there’s ’georgina the mannequin’ a mannequin which hangs under the bridge at barber motorsports park, during this years race she fell down and got run over by a driver. finally ‘murderhawk’ aka the firestone firehawk, a mascot you’ll often see around drivers or lurking on broadcast.. there’s way more i’m just blanking rn.

i hope this makes sense, kind of just rambled LOL

oh and don’t forget to ask questions <3 never too silly, i promise! everyone is happy to help.

thanks for this lol it was very helpful 🫶🫶

please keep the knowledge coming guys, im ready to learn ✍️

#f1 #formula 1 #indycar #logan sargeant #ls2 #yap with grace 🎤

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oh-stars · 7 months

Text

Third Wheel

Trio

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 497 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

Eddie Munson didn’t know what true love meant until he was twenty. If he’s honest, he didn’t think he’d ever find out what romantic love even meant, so he’s pretty surprised he’s seen true love with his own two eyes. That he experiences it every single day, and will until the end of his time (if he has any say in it at least). He just assumed if he were to ever see it, to experience this magical true love from his stories, he’d be in the middle of it.

Not the third wheel.

“Is there a reason we’re at Buckster’s apartment?” Eddie asks with a sigh. He already knows the answer, obvious by the way he unbuckles himself and begins the process of gathering the strength to slide into the backseat.

“She wanted to see this movie too,” Steve says, because obviously that’s what he should be thinking.

Eddie just hums as he starts to wiggle his way through the wedge between the driver and passenger seats. He flops into the back with a helpful push from Steve on his ass, one that definitely came with an unnecessary (but not unwanted) squeeze.

As Eddie rights himself, he sees Robin running down the path, limbs just shy of flailing, and happily over to the passenger seat. “Sorry,” she pants, “my mom called after you did.”

Steve winces. “Was it the cat again?”

“Yes!” Robin groans as she goes on to describe.. Neighborhood cat drama? Back in Hawkins? Eddie just shakes his head and drapes himself in between the want-to-be-twins.

She talks the entire time they’re driving to the theater, then continues the story effortlessly as they grab tickets and snacks and make their way to the theater.

Steve sits in between them, popcorn in his lap and the arm rest between him and Robin up. She snuggles in as she wraps up her story, just as the previews start.

Eddie leans over to glare at the both of them. “You do realize this is supposed to be a date for Steve and I, right?”

Robin shrugs. “I was invited, thank you.”

Steve at least has a sheepish smile. “I’ll take her home before we get dinner?”

“You’re not going to feed me!”

“Robs, I love you, but I also want to get laid,” Steve faux-whispers.

“It’s a good thing I love you,” Eddie says as he grabs a handful of popcorn, gesturing towards Robin with it, “because this alone would make anyone else run.”

Steve beams as he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek. “It’s one of the many reasons you’re the best, Eds.”

“Gross,” Robin huffs. “Cut the lovey dovey shit while I’m sitting right here.”

Eddie flips her off as he kisses Steve quickly, thankful for the dark of the empty theater. When he pulls back to shove the handful of popcorn in his mouth, Steve just smiles even brighter.

Yeah, it’s worth sharing Steve if he gets to look like that all the time.

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #stobin month 2024 #ohstars posting challenge #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic stobin #stobin

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kirikeijii · 3 months

Text

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥

Timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: you loved strawberries. when someone raced you to get it. You got upset but of course, this did not go unnoticed by your loving boyfriend.

cw: just fluff, inspired by a k drama I saw on fb, mention of cars (I think Kenma would have at least 5% interest in cars) Lev, kuroo, and Alisa mentioned, not much talking huhu, also my first time writing so save your judgments for another day tyvm

"Y/n?" Kenma peaked into the living room of our apartment. Kenma and I have been dating since 3rd year of high school. We were childhood friends and with kuroo. I lived at least just 1 block from Kenma and Kuroo's house so my house was normally where everyone hung out unless we wanted to play on Kenma's Xbox.

Kenma only told me he liked me and wanted to court me in 3rd year highschool because by that time kuroo wasn't gonna come teasing him after he confessed. We started dating 6 months later and moved together 3 months after graduation. We've been together for almost 3 years. Supporting each other through our ups and downs. Now he's the CEO of his company even if he's a college student.

"Yes? Did you need something?" I answered. Hair in a messy bun, glasses on the end of my nose, earphones in my ear. I set my laptop aside that was recently placed on my lap now on the couch and my leg up our coffee table as I give kenma my full attention.

Kenma doesn't really speak much so I try to give him my full attention every time.

"My company is holding this celebration.. because we made this really good trade for stocks and naturally I have to be there..." He continued to ramble on fiddling with the door frame he peaked from looking anywhere but to me. "...so I was wondering, if you're not busy this Saturday."

"I'll go with you, ken." I smiled at him. "I'll go anywhere you go, even if you go to the ends of the earth, I'll be beside you along the way." You say as a joke.

That made him look at me with a smile. He was definitely blushing. "You know me so well." He said as he walked behind the couch and kissed me as I looked up parallel to him while I cupped his face.

The day of the celebration came. You and Kenma arrived at the venue, door opened for the both of you.

Kenma was very nervous as he is always when he is at a gathering with people he barley knows. You two were sat down in the table at the very front along with Kuroo, Lev and his sister.

The both of you didn't know why they were there, but you figured maybe his assistant invited everyone in his close contact that are sophisticated or something.

As the party went on, it was getting very boring for you. They finished serving the food so what was there to do. They served some rice and steak along with some small fruits like green grapes, blueberries, raspberries and some strawberries.

You loved strawberries. The only fruit in your fridge was strawberries, although it's already gone due to you making them your midnight snack up until 2 in the morning. Kenma even gave you his portion of strawberries knowing how much you like them.

Due to your boredom, you looked around the room spotting some strawberries in the center of your shared table. You wondered why you never saw it when it was right in front of you but shrugged anyways.

Moving your body to grab it, someone got there before you. You retract your hand to see Lev's sister grabbig it and biting on it while looking at the stage with all the performers.

You couldn't blame her, she didn't see you. Upset, you put your hand back on your lap with a sigh and continued watching the show they put on, trying to get your mind off it.

After the party you and Kenma went into his car. He opened the door for you and you sat on the passenger seat and looked up tired.

"That was tiring.." You said hearing Kenma sit on the driver's seat.

"What do you mean tired? You just sat there." The boy said removing his expensive, rented blazer and vest and putting it behind your seat,

Kenma was rich. I mean rich rich. This was because he never really spent that much money when he was young. Unless it was a necessity he only spent his money on you, games, and maybe sometimes cars.

He likes to name the cars he's bought in the past like some cool Japanese girl names. For example yuki, yuri, reiko, ayumi, or chiako. Something like that.

For some reason, his favorite car was the Mclaren 765lt Spider in Lantana Purple. He said it looked cool, and would always take it out for a ride. He liked it so much that he named it after you.

You even said it was weird he named his car after you but he said it was perfect because you were his favorite person and now his favorite car was named after you.

Minutes passed and you can feel the car slowing down at a convenience store. Your eyebrows furrow as Kenma got out of the car before you could talk.

He came back a little later hands behind him. He was carrying something tho you couldn't see it. He then sat on the driver's seat, closing the door beside him.

"What'd you buy?" you tilt your head to the side with a smile on your face.

"This." He then showed his other hand with a box of strawberries. You looked at the strawberries in his hands then him to see the boy smiling. " I saw you earlier you know, I know it wasn't Alisa's fault that she didn't see you but you just looked so sad when she got to the strawberry first. I know how much you like them." He kissed your forehead and rubbed the back of your head giving you the plastic box of strawberries.

You looked down at the strawberries to see a little flower clipped beside it making you blush, smile reaching ear to ear. "You know me so well." you leaned on his shoulder before starting the car and back to your lovingly shared house.

ᯓ★ This was shit but it was my first time writing and posting it. Thank you for reading<3 | Masterlist

#haikyuu #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #im gonna cry #kenma kozume x reader #kenma #haikyuu kozume #kozume x reader #kenma x y/n #hq kenma

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viisoul · 1 year

Text

★ ﹒ IMPATIENT!

he was simply too impatient to be away from his girlfriend for a month.

cw: dom!kaiser — sub!reader — teasing — dumbification — dacryphilia — finger sucking — breeding if you squint

a/n : being nice gets you nice things. congratulations.

edit : NEVER MIND FUCK YOU KYS UNGRATEFUL MF

being that kaiser was such a prominent member of the bastard munchen football team, he rarely had time to spend with his lover. of course, he enjoyed playing against opposing teams and winning with minimum effort, but sometimes he simply enjoyed being in the mere presence of his one and only, y/n.

he relished in admiring her pulchritudinous countenance, not failing to yearn for her delicate touch when he was away. he couldn't help but want to spoil her rotten and see that adorable smile on her plump lips that he so desperately craved to kiss nonstop.

kaiser wanted to wrap his muscular arms around her body and bring her into his tight embrace, gaining a whiff of that expensive fragrance lingering on her skin and the fabric of her clothing, all while feeling the warmness of her body heat diffuse onto him.

he missed her so much.

so much, to the point where he just had to come back home. he didn't exactly care about what anyone said or thought about him leaving, especially in such a time of need. he'll be back. they can go a day or five without kaisers presence.

so now, his driver was taking him back to his residence. his bags were in the trunk, and he refrained from texting his girlfriend ever since he got off of the plane. sure, she might've gotten a bit worried, but it'd all turn out fine in the long run.

kaiser ignored her texts, it feeling as if a tight, aching pain would throb in his chest, ever so closely to his heart when he forced himself to ignore y/n's calls and messages. she was worried sick about him, and all he needed to do was to give her the reassurance she so desperately deserved.

however, there was something else she deserved much more than his reassurance. after all, that something would be more than enough to eliminate her worries. his presence, and a little something both he and she yearned for after the seemingly slowed, prolonged time away from each other.

y/n sighed softly, placing her phone down on the surface of her vanity, the white light illuminating on her skin as she glanced at herself through the mirror. if it weren't for the thin little silk robe kaiser bought, she'd only be in her undergarments—, but not exactly for anyone to observe.

after all, there was no one home.

the silence throughout the household was so loud, every movement making a sound that'd resonate so noisily through her ears, but maybe she was just a bit overwhelmed. overwhelmed by the fact that she was home alone with her boyfriend ignoring her texts and calls. her mind flooded with rather disturbing thoughts, sending sharp pains through her head. she was overthinking.

her lips jutted into a pout, her facial expression showing her annoyance.

great, so she's overwhelmed and having mood swings. what was kaiser thinking?

"ich hasse dich, kaiser..." she muttered under her breath, taking a stand from the stool of the vanity and walking toward the king sized bed she and her boyfriend shared... when he was home.

though, at this time, he currently was away, ignoring her.

she took a breath, inhaling through her nostrils and exhaling rather dramatically, although there was no one to react to her drama. maybe kaiser would have telepathically received the message and responded.

however, the thought of him had left her mind when her ears were filled with the sound of knocking at the door. she groaned, forcing herself to roll off of the soft mattress and drag her feet down the hallway.

when she arrived at the door, she hadn't bothered to check the peephole. she'd honestly hunched her back over and hooded her eyes to make it seem as if she was asleep, resulting in whoever was on the other side of the door feeling guilty for disturbing her during her slumber and leaving her alone.

she sluggishly unlocked and opened the door, the gentle squeak resonating through the area. her posture had immediately straightened and her eyes shot open, pupils dilating. her lips parted as she took a step back.

"kaiser—?!"

she'd only received a smile from him as he opened his arms, reaching out for a hug.

she wanted to. she wanted to be in his comforting embrace and make up for the lost time, but he worried and ignored her. her upper lip twitched as she walked toward him, retracting her arm before pushing it full force into his stomach. he grunted, stumbling back as he held onto his abdomen.

she crossed her arms, watching as he struggled.

"what's wrong with you?!" he scowled.

"no, what's wrong with you?! why would you sit there and ignore me?!"

"s'no reason to punch me!"

"you didn't even answer my question."

"not like you did either."

"whatever."

"are you seriously mad? that really hurt, too."

she sighed. "no, i'm happy. i'm joyous right now."

"well, you didn't have to—."

"it's sarcasm!"

"...so, you're not happy to see me?"

"i am happy to see you. i've been waiting for you ever since you left. but you didn't have to ignore me and leave me worried like that."

"i was gonna surprise you."

y/n sighed. "that's not the point, meine liebe."

"es tut mir leid," he spoke, taking a step inside. he reached for the door, closing it behind him as his free arm draped around her waist. "ich liebe dich."

"...love you too."

"let me show you how much i love you." he whispered, their lips grazing over each other. she raised her hand, fingers gently grasping at his shirt.

her touch was so sensual against his body, teasing him by moving up his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"i missed you so much. you're so beautiful." he muttered, warm breath fanning against her throat as his lips covered in a thin coat of saliva from running his tongue against it kissed at her skin.

the gentle pull of her skin had been from kaiser sucking, resulting in pretty little love bites adorning her neck. he then pressed his lips against hers, giving a rather rough and intense kiss to her. it was as if his emotions were spilling out into that kiss, satisfied to see her once more, angry to be gone from her for so long, pained because of the punch in his abdomen.

they slightly stumbled their way to the nearest surface, that being a wall, where kaiser pushed her back up against it. the sound of a thud resonated throughout the area, their kiss getting sloppier. he pushed his tongue into her mouth, pressing it against hers. his hands roamed around her body, groping her ass and thighs. a soft moan slipped out, her hands reaching to grasp at any part of his body.

a trail of their saliva had connected once he pulled away, it slowly breaking with each exhale. the grasp kaiser had on her body had tightened a bit as he trailed his lips from her jaw to her neck, sucking on her skin to create little markings in the most sensitive spots.

"kaiser," she whispered, her voice softly honeyed. "need you..."

there wasn't much kaiser could do with her against the wall—, at least not what he wanted to do. he slowly began to migrate over to the sofa, the two sitting as y/n allowed kaiser to gradually tower over her. he was leaned against her neck, inhaling that sweet scent lingering around her body as he pulled the robe apart.

he then unloosened the string of his joggers, pushing them down to his knees. y/n could quite clearly see his erection poking through his designer boxers, just waiting to be freed and inserted into her.

he reached toward her crotch, feeling how wet she was through her underwear. his fingertips grazed over her clothed cunt before applying pressure to it, moving his fingers in circular motions.

she was so touch starved, something as simple as this would have her squirting all over him in no time.

"you missed me touching on you like this?"

"yes, baby... missed it s'much."

"yeah? that right? feels good?"

"mhm, feels so good..." she whimpered. "need you in me..."

"be patient, my love." he spoke. "gotta work you up first."

the feeling she secretly yearned for was finally being fulfilled. she was squirming underneath him, bottom lip jutting into a pout. seeing his girlfriend like this aroused him so much, he was simply obsessed with teasing her until she begged. he was beginning to rub aggressively, feeling her wetness seep through the thin fabric of her panties.

"oh—!" she squealed. "jus' like that..."

her voice sounded so pretty resonating through the room, whines high pitched and needy. hearing her made even himself get a bit desperate, wanting to shove his cock deep into her pussy and listen to her scream and cry for more.

he'd suddenly come to an abrupt stop, a disappointed moan slipping past her lips.

"baby," she drawled. "why'd you stop?"

"wanna fuck you."

"what happened to patience?" she questioned.

"shut up." he then pulled his boxers down, his cock springing out. he wrapped his hand around it before stroking it a bit, a low exhale heaving from his lungs. "take your panties off."

without a question, she'd done as he said, dropping them to the floor and spreading her legs. he gently pushed his tip against her bare clit, rubbing it against the sensitive nub a bit. he then moved it down, gradually pushing his cock inside of her hole that'd been oozing with her liquids, so ready for that moment.

her back arched at the sudden feeling, lips parting as she inhaled sharply. there hadn't been any warning, not like she was expecting one anyway, but it'd caught her by surprise. he chuckled at her expression, beginning to move his hips back and forth.

kaiser was a bit thick, stretching her out every time he was inside of her. it was lengthy, having that one vein run up to his tip as it curved slightly. his tip was pink and it pushed against her insides nicely.

she missed the feeling of that, as if they hadn't seen each other in years. realistically, it's only been a month and some days. and during that month, y/n has yearned for her boyfriend every day, just to finally get what she wanted.

"relax," he said. "i've got you."

"m-m'sorry." she apologized, trying her best to relax her limbs.

"yeah... like that. it's alright, m'love. just gonna make you feel good, okay?" kaiser spoke, voice slightly above a whisper, speeding up the pace of his hip movement.

"mm—, mhm," she forced herself nod her head, raising a hand for kaiser to take. he entwined his fingers with hers, leaning in closely to her.

seeing her at such a way because of him had boosted his confidence so much. it made him feel good, knowing he was the one making her all whiny and twitchy and no one else was. it brought a warm feeling to his heart.

his propulsions were steady, his hips grinding sensually against her upper thighs and ass. oh, how she missed the feeling of him inside of her, big and not failing to make her squeal out. her whines were so pretty, like a melody to kaiser's ears. he could hear her rambling about how big he was inside of her, how good it felt and her whispering, telling him to go faster because she simply was too desperate for more.

he, of course, couldn't bring himself to reject her wishes, especially after being away from her for so long. if she wanted it fast, that's exactly what she'd get. the sounds of his skin slapping against hers at a quicker pace had indicated that she was getting what she asked for. her whines grew louder and her words became slurred, the grasp she had on his hand tightening.

"look at you." he chuckled. "pretty girl going dumb on my cock, hm?"

she managed to stammer out a whiny 'shut up' as she began to rock her hips forward along with his, trying to match his pace. that hadn't gone unnoticed by him, so he chose to tell her to do something that'd keep her busy.

"play with yourself for me, liebe." he purred in her ear, voice low and euphonic.

she hummed in agreement, hand trailing down her stomach and stopping at her pelvis. kaiser could only laugh at her actions, guiding her hand down to her pussy.

"silly girl," he smiled. "can't even find her own clit. cute."

her shaky fingers rubbed at her clit desperately, the extra stimulation causing her eyes to roll back as she babbled on about how good it felt.

he was giving her rough, quick strokes just as she pleased, the two moaning and groaning with every thrust. it was beginning to get rather hot in the room, despite it being an open area. beads of sweat had grown on their bodies, kaiser's shirt beginning to get a bit wet. it was like the fabric was a restriction, sticking to his chest and making him feel hot.

he slowed the movements of his hips down, hands grasping at the bottom of his shirt as he pulled it off. his hair fell graciously, slightly covering his face as loose strands stuck to his forehead. the tattoo embellishing his neck and arm hadn't gone unnoticed by her, and neither did the flexing of his abs as sweat descended down his torso and to that veiny v-line.

she could barely compose herself upon seeing her boyfriend like that, especially after being teased for a whole thirty six days by dirty attachments of his chest or clothed erection and filthy little voice messages of him moaning from rubbing one out to the pictures of her.

but now she had the real thing, his chest out on display for her and his cock stuffed deep inside of her as he started his thrusts back up.

"what's wrong? why'd you stop, liebling?" he questioned, free hand wrapping around her wrist which had stopped moving when kaiser did. what could she say? it felt good, sure, but her wrist was getting tired.

she hadn't responded to his question—, but it wasn't like she could manage to get one out anyway. he'd only smiled at her, bringing her fingers up to his lips. his thrusts had noticeably slowed as he kissed the wet tips of her fingers, parting his lips and taking them inside of his mouth.

he sucked on her fingers as his hips pushed forward in a sensuous motion, pants and whines slipping from y/n's lips. it was slow, but rough, pressing against the spot inside of her that made her want to whine out and cry.

which... is what she did.

"k-kaiser," she whimpered. "fuckkk, i-it feels..."

"mmh?" he hummed. "it feels what, pretty thing?"

he watched as she shut her eyes, eyebrows furrowing as her trembling lips pursed together. tears of nothing but pleasure began to stream from her eyes, mascara flowing along with it.

"aw," he drawled. "wipe those tears, meine liebe."

he removed her fingers from his mouth, gently placing her hand down. he reached out for her face, wiping a tear from her cheek. he could hear the way she desperately tried to catch her breath, but her sobs and whimpers had only cut them off.

"you look so pretty like this. you're gonna make me cum." he grunted. "want it inside? want me to fill you up with my kids, baby?"

"pl-please—, i'm gonna..."

"gonna cum too?" he purred. "c'mon, baby. give it t'me."

she nodded her head slowly, feeling as kaiser's hip movement began to falter, but he kept the same pace. he was so close, practically edging himself just because he wanted to wait for her.

but luckily, he didn't have to wait long, feeling her tightening around him and seeing her back arching, muscles convulsing as she whined, eyes going blurry from the tears growing. it was as if she sucked the cum out of him with the way he released it inside of her, thick, warm ropes spilling out of his tip.

he gave a couple more thrusts, slow and gentle before pulling out, cum still leaking down on the cushion of the couch between her legs. the two panted, kaiser wiping his sweat with his arm.

"baby." he called out.

"mm?"

"are you falling asleep—?" he chuckled.

"tired... m'so tired."

he sighed. "guess it can't be helped. bet you got tired of waiting on me too, huh?"

"definitely." she whispered.

"sorry i had you waiting for so long, meine liebe." he cupped her cheek, leaning down to kiss her lips as she weakly kissed him back. "did so good for me."

maybe it wasn’t so bad that he was impatient.

#anime #manga #anime x reader #writers #aot x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #kaiser x you #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #bllk kaiser #kaiser smut #blue lock #blue lock kaiser #kaiser michael #oliver aiku #shidou ryusei #itoshi sae #smut

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bunnys-kisses · 3 months

Note

can i place an order under sainz's name? i'd like a banana bread and a nanaimo bars, plus a coffee with an extra vodka shot, pleaseee. OH and maybe some tea too (if you're up for it) thanks a ton!

the bakery menu

there are still so many delicious treats on the menu! so feel free to submit your own order! as for this order, i love a anon who knows what they want! being rivals with mister carlos, say no more! the drama! the action! the smut!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + coffee (rivals) + vodka shot (rough sex) served by carlos sainz jr. order up!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals (to lovers) au, driver!reader, rough sex, hot seat/reverse cowgirl position, humor, slight hair pulling

red bull racing had two stars, after the departure of checo the previous season, the team had brought someone else in. you. first woman f1 had in a long time. most sort of laughed off your stint on the track as a novelty, until you ended up on podium in your first race.

you even had you teammate a little worried.

that was how you ended up as carlos' rival. it wasn't that carlos was mad that he was being beaten by a woman. it was how you were all smiles and 'good luck's to other drivers. you were so civil and sweet, that it made carlos want to beat you even more. to him when you shook his hand after the japanese grand prix and gave him a dazzling grin, it felt like rubbing salt in his fourth placement.

"you'll get them next time, carlos. season's not over yet!"

carlos wanted you, the way that a wolf craved rabbit. he wanted to sink his teeth into you. he wanted to feel you under him as he took you apart and licked every inch of skin. even a possessive part of him wanted you in the bright ferrari red colours, showing that he staked a claim on the newest hot shot in formula one.

he honestly thought he'd never get the chance. until you showed up at his hotel room right before the spanish grand prix. you looked at him and then grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him into a searing kiss.

carlos heard laughter and when the kiss broke, he saw oscar and lando nearby laughing. when he turned back to you, you were looking in shock with your hand still in his shirt.

before carlos could say anything you looked over to the pair close by and went, "see. nothing." but you were pulled into another kiss which you melted into. carlos could taste the wine on your tongue.

oh, you were getting drunk with the mclaren boys and this was all some stupid little dare. so when you pulled away once more and tried to apologize. he placed a hand on the top of your head and said, "why don't you come inside and get some water. and away from them."

oscar piped up, "you can't take away our drinking buddy."

carlos replied, "you two can drink alone." before he shuffled you inside and closed the door. play stupid games, win stupid prizes was all he thought before he had his hands on you once more. he took you by the waist and pressed a series of kisses up against your cheek and neck.

you were trembling like a leaf against him.

"tell me to stop." he said. this was a line that would be scary to cross, but he could feel your heat through your clothes and against him. a little fantasy come to life.

normally so steady in your tone, your voice was shaky when you said, "i don't want you to stop. i'm so sorry, carlos. they thought it would be funny and whatnot and i-"

he held the back of your head and made you look to him, "you didn't need a dare for you to come here. now, have you had too much to drink to do anything?" he didn't want to hurt you, maybe a little play in the bedroom but not real hurt.

he was your rival, not your enemy.

you held onto the front of his t-shirt and replied, "i want you. that was what the whole dare was. they thought i didn't have the balls to kiss you. i know, it sounds like we're teenagers. but they got two glasses of wine in me before i was stomping over to prove them wrong."

he laughed and held onto your hips, who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." he saw your expression change before he pulled you in for a tight kiss, his hands went to the slope of your ass and grabbed onto it tightly.

"don't make me blush!" you squeaked

he loved this side of you, so different from the humorous, head strong driver, "oh, you'll be doing a lot more than blushing." then guided you towards the bedroom.

he noticed that you were in nothing but stretchy shorts and a big white t-shirt with printed socks that you had pulled up past your ankles. he saw that the socks had little lions on them.

he sat down on the bed and beckoned you to sit on his lap. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. his laps were on your clothed back, he yearned to get you naked.

"how do you like it?" he said, his lips close to your back, "how do you want me to fuck you?"

you swallowed, "rough. i always imagined it rough. i see how you look at me after races. when i narrowly beat you out, it looks like you want to eat me alive."

he chuckled, "maybe eat you out, but i think i could never hurt you. not on purpose."

you looked at him, "you suck as a rival."

he remarked, his hand on your chin, "then i guess i'll have to be a lover then." before he let go of it and took your shirt by the bottom and pulled it up over your head, leaving you in tight shorts and a cute grey sports bra.

he let you get up to full get unclothed. he did the same, when you caught sight of his cock you swallowed. the size was impressive and made heat pool in your core. he leaned back a little and looked at you in front of him. he grasped his cock and stroked it, "like what you see?"

you nodded as you pulled down your panties. you saw his expression change and you asked, with a little more confidence in your tone, "do you like what you see?"

he responded, "i bet it'll feel even better." he watched you get in his lap, but you were facing towards the door of the bedroom in a hybrid lap sex and reverse cowgirl. it gave him perfect access to the sight of your pretty ass.

there were little pleasantries exchanged between his cock and your pussy before you sank down on it. your hands on his knees as you started to ride him.

carlos' cock fit nicely in your aching sex. you were already drenched from his kisses and the notion that you'd get to have sex with him. your core throbbed with a deep want as you were fast with your thrusts.

he grabbed your hair tightly and pulled your head back so he could kiss at your neck. he kept you close to him, holding onto you like you were going to run away. he met your thrusts, they were a bit more brutal as his cock hit the back of your pussy.

he said to you, "i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

"is that a promise?"

"yes." then held your hip and hair as he started to thrust harder, fully taking hold of the situation. you may be physically on top, but carlos was the one in charge. savoring every moment that he got to bed his little rival. or rather lover, now.

the pulling of your hair felt good, the roughness of his movements made you grow wetter with each heavy stroke.

"carlos." you panted.

"that's it. fuck, you feel so good for me." he responded, his grip was a little tighter on you. he loved watching you meet his pace and bounce on his cock. next time he'd make sure to keep you front facing so he could see that pretty face of yours. he was certain there was going to be a next time.

"i don't want to be your rival anymore." you panted.

he looked at the back of your head, those beautiful brown eyes gazed at your back side as you worked his cock. he licked his lips and said, "then why don't we become lovers, then?" he smiled when you made a soft moaning noise, his hand in your hair went to your neck and pulled you against him. he bit at your shoulder and collarbone as he pinned you to him and thrusted up into you. "what do you say, mi amor?"

you panted, "please, carlos. i want to be yours."

he laughed, "that's what i like to hear. your name sounds so good on your tongue." he kissed behind your ear with a sense of tenderness. you were bouncing on his lap, the both of your naked on the expensive hotel bed.

he moved against you and kissed the nape of your neck as he bullied his cock into you. his grip was tight on you and it made you pant and whine for more. he fit so good inside of you.

"please, ah, carlos!" you moaned as you clutched onto his strong arms. you kicked out your legs and your cunt tigthened around his length. the pleasure caught up to you and you whined through your orgasm.

part of you prayed no one else in ferrari heard you, carlos' pace was still relentless as he moved against you. you felt so good seated on his cock, he knew your pussy was so pretty and wet.

"that's it. that's it." he panted in your ear, his voice hot and ran through your overstimulated body. he rutted against you before he gave one last thrust then spilled inside of you.

he came and it left him feeling very good as he slowed the pace down and relaxed against you. his arms still around you but his head on your shoulder.

you wanted to kiss him, but your limbs felt shaky. your head felt heavy as you came down from the intensity.

"mi amor." he said.

"shh. shh." you panted as you wiped the sweat off your forehead. it felt nice just being held by the other driver.

you soon tumbled into bed with carlos, your bodies pressed together. his forehead against yours as he laughed a little. he held your face for comfort. he said, "that felt good."

you nodded and kissed him on the lips, "i hope you know, just because you're not my rival doesn't mean i will go easy on you. it'll still be a battle of the track."

he dropped his hands down to your waist and went in for another kiss. which was followed by a few across your cheeks, "of course, i wouldn't want it any other way. but, i still will come out on top. i want to fuck you in front of the a nice shiny trophy."

you laughed and replied, "oh don't worry sainz, next time i win we can do that." then winked at him.

the next morning, in the early hours, you exited carlos' room with a prayer that no one saw you. as you carefully closed the door behind you, you heard your name and looked over.

you were met face to face with your teammate. your eyes went wide as you tried to play it off, "oh hey there... bud."

"what were you doing in carlos' room?" he asked.

you shrugged, "oh, you know how it is. a few drinks and fast asleep in front of the television." you laughed it off, "no big deal."

"right."

but something clicked as the two of you looked at one another. it was tense between you two for a moment before you had to ask the question, "but max." you said, "why are you in ferrari's room area too?"

you two would never speak about this ever again. <3

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glaciertea · 5 months

Text

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.13<< >>Ch.15

Notes: Lovely date night at a very sensual and romantic spot.

CW: Hot and steamy, but passionate and longing sex. Oral pleasure (F receiving), PinV, light spanking, the neighbors will hear, smut... and maybe slight drama.

Chapter 14: Every Time I Get a Bit Inside, I Feel it

Word count: 9K

Zipping back and forth from your bedroom to the bathroom, you stumbled over your two feet, desperately locating the other thigh-fishnet stocking while trying to put toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I just had it right here! Did it fall into the freaking void?”

You dipped and scrambled all around the floor near the bed.

“You know what? I’ll come back to it in a bit.” You darted back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Tonight was a special night for you two. It was your first date as a 'semi-official' couple, and you had no clue where exactly he was taking you. All you know is that you woke up to a text specifying what would be the best attire for this particular outing.

A lovely, formal casual is something you could manage. A form-fitting, long-sleeved mini dress, wedges, and your fishnets, if you could find the other one.

Not a single word could describe the anticipation that was bubbling inside. You skipped around, singing your heart out as you got ready, only to lose track of time from bumbling too much. Spitting out the toothpaste residue, you rushed back to the room, aimlessly scouting for that missing piece.

Bending down on your knees and laying on your torso to search under the bed, you heard the bedroom door squeak open.

“Mm, this is a delightful sight to walk in on.”

Repositioning yourself back up, you twirled your head and gleamed at Miguel. “Miggy! My gosh, every time you dress down, you always have to put me to shame, don’t you?”

“Too much?” He peered down at his tight white button-down, black jeans, and opened blazer.

“No, no, está bien.”

You rose to your feet and drifted towards him. Noting that one of his arms was behind his back, you closed off any space left between you two. “Going to tell me what’s hiding back there?”

Miguel smirked and leisurely revealed a beautiful bouquet of pink tulips and white daisies, evoking a squeal from you.

“Oh, Miggy, thank you! These are gorgeous. I’m going to quickly put these in a vase right now. Also, can you help me find my other fishnet stocking? The moment it’s found, the sooner we can leave.” You cradled the assortment.

“Si, mi Luna. And take your time; we still have forty minutes left until our reservations.”

“True, but I know you like to be punctual. Gotta have that jumpstart!” You sang out, stepping into your living room to find a new home for the floral.

Miguel smiled and scanned your room. “By the way, you look radiant.” He called out to you, spotting the lone material, loosely tucked underneath a pillow.

“Thank you, but not on par with you." You held the vase before placing it right on your dresser.

“Hey, you emit more beauty than all the moons in the entire universe. And more than me, mi hermosa Luna.” He handed you the fishnet, gazing longingly into your eyes.

“Do you always turn up the charm whenever you're near me?” You slipped past, leaning on your bed to put the tight on.

“Possibly. I will never tell.”

A grin snuck its way up on you. “Thank you for finding it. My shoes and purse are all upfront. Are you ready to head out?”

Without another comment, Miguel offered his arm, and you gladly took it.

The night’s sky was clear. A full moon was shining ever so brightly as Miguel hailed a cab for you two. Miguel handed the driver a piece of paper as you questioned where exactly you were headed, but he kept it hushed, saying all would be revealed in due time. Opting to be compliant, you went with the flow as you chattered about whatever sprung up in your minds.

Arriving at the place, you gawked at the corner brick building. Stringed maroon lights suspended down the windows and doors as two granite pillars erected proudly, displaying the entrance sign in brilliant neon cerise, reading Dusk N’ Twilight.

Miguel paid the driver and trekked his way over to your side, opening the car door for you. You took his hand, your eyes fixated, exuberant stare not leaving the exterior.

“Do you like it, mi Luna?”

“Do I like it? I love it! I've never been to a jazz club before, so I am super excited.”

You shuffled from one foot to another, wrapping your arms around his muscular one.

“Though, I would've expected more people. Especially on a Saturday night.” Wheeling your head back and forth, focusing on the lack of traffic for such a swanky establishment.

“Vamos, mi Luna. Let's not stand out here forever.”

You nodded, and together you took even steps, with Miguel showing off his chivalry by holding the main entry door open.

“Such a gentleman.” You winked and sashayed in, putting on a show for him by wiggling your behind a bit.

Miguel eyed your figure, his fangs drawing out as he licked them before retracting them. “Cálmate, cálmate. Acabas de llegar.”

Miguel stepped behind, and you took in more of the interior. An erotic, deep red inundated around, even spilling into the hidden crevices. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and a lone piano perched in a corner, with a giant stage loaded with different instruments and a microphone adjacent to it. Loveseats, booths, and regular tables lined up, taking up the unoccupied spaces.

You scratched the top of your head in confusion. At the moment, there were only four people, excluding you and Miguel. The waitress and a man maintaining the bar, which was stocked with fancy alcoholic beverages.

Where was everyone else? Was this place exclusive or a gem so hidden that no one has ever heard of it?

“You must be Mr. O'Hara?” The waitress politely smiled at you two.

“Yes.” Miguel pulled his phone out as the waitress glanced down and nodded.

“Alright, perfect. Follow me.”

Grasping your dainty hand once more, you and Miguel traveled near a table less than fifteen feet from the stage.

It was already set with fine china, a bottle of wine chilled in an ice bucket, and rose petals garnishing the silk tablecloth.

Miguel pulled your chair out as you dumbfoundedly plopped yourself in it, bewildered eyes observing all that surrounded you.

The waitress poured the wine into your glasses and rested two menus in front of you both. “My name is Cheyenne, and I will be your waitress this evening. The live music will be out in a few minutes, and the bar is, of course, unlimited. I will give you a bit to glance at the menus, but I'll bring out fresh bread in the meantime. If you need anything, simply call out for me.”

“Thank you.” Miguel bowed his head in acknowledgment as you gave a weary thumbs-up.

“Tha-thank you.” You gulped.

The second she trailed away, you pinned your hands on the surface.

“Miggy, what the heck?”

Caught off-guard, he planted the menu down and removed his shades, concerned. “What's wrong, mi corazón?”

“What's wrong? Where is everyone else? Unlimited drinks? Personal service?” You waved your limbs, gesturing to it all.

“It's only going to be me and you tonight, mi Luna.” He plucked the menu back up, skimming over it once again.

Muddled, you flickered your eyelids open and shut before shaking your head.

“Miggy! You didn't have to dip in so much for all of this! How much did this cost?! I will help pay it back if need be; you didn't have to do all of this!”

“Mi corazón, payment wasn't a problem. Everything is okay. Don't worry, mi Luna.”

“Payment wasn't a problem... Mi Estrella, this clearly would have cost a pretty penny if you seemingly rented out the entire buidling.”

Miguel only shrugged. “It wasn't, honestly, that pricey. It was only a few thousand, nothing too bad.”

“Nothing too—nothing too bad?! Only a few thousand?!” you exclaimed before you caught your tone.

Beginning to sort out any confusion, he was interrupted by steaming, toasted bread brought down and a bowl of whipped butter.

“There we go. Are we ready to order or still need more time?”

“More time, please.” Miguel picked up the serving tongs and placed some bread on his plate and yours.

“Alright. And the entertainment is on its way.” Cheyenne scuffled back into the kitchen, fairly intimidated by Miguel's presence.

“Now, as I was saying, I wanted this to be special, and…”

He was forcibly cut off once again when an entourage of people in button-ups, unraveled ties, slacks, and spiffy dress shoes marched to their respective instruments and took their spot.

The band waved at you two as you meekly bent your fingers, trying to copy the eager motion. And Miguel only gave a half-wave.

Tarrying on the musicians for a bit more, a woman in an off-the-shoulder sequin gown swayed out and took the mic in her hands. Her hair flowed elegantly as the red highlighted the dress, giving it that flare.

“Welcome to Dusk N’ Twilight this fine night, lady and gentleman. Tonight is a very special one, as we have a stunning couple out in the audience. So let me take you two on a magical voyage of velvety wine, shimmering stars, and melodies to fuel that insatiable appetite for love and lust.”

Notes from the saxophone, bass, piano, and singer enriched the scenic environment that connected the two.

“Mi Luna, mi corazón, please let me treat you. You've done so much for me; let me return it by giving you a night to look back with amazing memories.”

That entrancing hold—how the hue blends in with his crimson-brown ones—yet you still see the raw, passionate scorch in them.

You couldn't help but smile.

“Okay, mi Estrella. I'll let you spoil me. Only–only for tonight. But I still have some questions.”

His face crinkled into a high-cheekbone grin as he showed off his pearly whites. You adored every line and scar on his earthy face.

“¿Cómo tuve tanta suerte? ¿Yo, entre todas las personas, terminó con un alma tierna como la tuya? But yes, I will answer whatever question you have; after we order, mi Luna hermosa e iluminadora.”

Wiggling in your seat, you picked up the menu, glancing at the yummy items available. Placing your orders, you both leaned forward, dreamingly, captivated by each other's hypnotic gaze, letting the songs whisk you into the infinite galaxy.

Taking a few sips of wine and bites of bread, you smacked your lips and laid your elbow on the cloth.

“Alright, now tell me. Since when does...” You scrunch your eyes, finding a way to prevent his hero identity from slipping out. “When does your, dutifully, work pay? I thought you did that just because.”

“It doesn't pay.”

“So how the heck did you manage this?”

“You are aware that I have a good amount saved up?”

Miguel could almost see the malfunctioning error processing in your brain.

“No?! How? I know you have that other job, but that doesn't explain much because it's dealing with something in a theoretical sense.”

“A theory that has been proven.”

“Right, right, but it still doesn't explain the seemingly vast amount of, you know.”

“I did tell you I was the leader and founder of the organization, correct?”

You bobbed your head. “Yes, but not the founder part. I don't ever remember you mentioning that you're the creator of it.”

“Huh. I didn't? Strange. Guess I'm fittingly comfortable around you that my brain believed I told you. And I also assumed it was a given because you need permits for properties such as that, and you've seen my high-rise apartment.”

“Yes! But you live there! I'm thinking it's paid for in return for your work!”

Miguel picked up his wine glass, swirling it. “No. Yes, I live there, but I'm the one who wanted it so I could be closer to my job. It's easier that way.”

He mindlessly took a sip. “There's also the fact that I'm essentially a retired geneticist as well, so I get a pension from that. An evil company, but weird ethics when it comes to rightful pay.”

His eyebrows scrunched, and then he fixed his attention on you. “Didn't I also tell you I made codes and a few inventions that are used throughout parts of the city?”

You were helplessly bemused and overwrought by the newfound information that had been casually lobbed at you. Your fingers tensely gripped at your hair, mortified, both elbows now on the table, as your eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

“Mi Luna? You okay?” Miguel dwindled his head down to meet your flushed expression.

“Have you been telling me, all this time, that I've been dating a suave, millionaire CEO man? Oh my God, oh my God, if Ronnie ever finds out—if my family ever finds out! Oh my God, can I disappear? Maybe, just maybe, if I contract so hard, I can blip myself out of existence! Yeah! That can work!”

“I'm not that rich.”

You immediately clenched up and began to strain your body.

“Mi Luna.”

Miguel gave a remorseful look. His eyes glazed, wondering if any of that was appropriate to tell you. He wanted to answer your questions, but not if it'd upset you.

Abruptly stopping, you noticed his reaction. Getting up from your chair, you made your way over and plopped your forehead on his.

“I'm so sorry, mi Estrella. I didn't mean to make you feel so disheartened. It was unanticipated news I wasn't expecting; there is still no excuse for my behavior. Please forgive me for that heinous response.”

Miguel pulled you in for a deep kiss before moving away. “All is forgiven. I know there wasn't any ill-intent; you were surprised. It wasn't the reaction I wasn't expecting.”

Sharing a laugh, the two of you embraced closely, praying it would never end. Eventually you broke away when the meals arrived, as you both began to chow down.

Enjoying each other, you two chatted non-stop. Learning more and more about one another.

“So, as you are a handsome Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway, have you ever had fair gents or maidens run to you with open arms?”

Miguel suppressed a snort and took a swig of his beverage. “Is that what I am to you? A Renaissance marbled what now?”

“A handsome Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway.”

“I'll make sure to remember that. And yes, I had a few one-night stands with both. Nothing too crazy. What about you? I don't think I've ever asked about all that.”

“Nothing too crazy here as well. Had two partners before hand, sexual relations with the first, none with the second. He apparently was getting too cozy with others and ended up leaving with something. So, I dodged that bomb there.”

A contemptuous scowl appeared on Miguel. “¿Quién engañaría a alguien como tú? A veces, no entiendo a los idiotas tontos.”

He angrily chewed a piece of his steak.

“Everything okay?”

“Si, mi Luna. I'm trying to wrap my brain around why anyone would treat you so lowly.”

You gave a simple shrug. “It happens. It did sting at the moment, but I moved on. Very indifferent a month after the breakup. So, it wasn't a complete loss.”

“Still. Ay, you are so gentle, I swear... hey, mi corazón?”

“Mhm?” You glance up from your food.

“What is your family like? I tried not to speculate on what they’re like, so I am curious about them.”

“Mom and dad are living in some other state, I think Washington? And I have an older brother. Barkley. Exactly six years apart. I’m close with my parents—not too close. And my brother. We were super attached growing up. He was my best friend. Then something happened when he went to college, cut us all off with no explanation, and then vanished.” You traced the rim of your wine glass.

“Last I heard, he left the states and is doing odd jobs now.” Your face fell, melancholy rupturing the more intimate jazzy sounds.

Guilt plastered over him. He pressed his lips together as anguish washed over him for bringing up a sensitive topic. He imagined that by bringing up Gabi in the past, you would be ecstatic to ramble on about your family too. Even at the end of the day, he still inferred something about your personal life.

“Mi corazón, I-I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

A lopsided grin upturned on your face. “Hey, you wouldn’t have known; it’s okay. It does hurt, still to this day, but I try to carry on. I do think about him a lot, and I have a bunch of repressed feelings that go deep within, so what I try to do is help the ones around me and myself from time to time. Show that generosity. It may be altruistic to some; who knows? You can’t always have that pep, but you can try and kindle kindness.”

“I don’t think that's altruistic.” Miguel said it sincerely.

“I would say you're being a bit biased, and I could agree with you, but let's take a look at your job. It's a much grander scale of helping people, so wouldn't that make me a hypocrite?”

“How so?”

Your smile never leaves. “We both use our energy to seemingly help others. So I can't say that me specifically going out of the way to aid someone doesn't have any altruistic undertones. Yours is just…bigger.”

He shook his head. “Maybe I am being biased. But from your view, it comes from the heart.”

“And yours does too.”

His heart thumped. You were perfect for him in all shapes and forms. He knew if he were to declare that, you would instantly deny it. Maybe there was a reason why you would, but even with your flaws, he will still be there. If times get hard, he will still be there. He would follow you for an infinite amount of time, and it still wouldn't be enough for him.

“Ay, eres perfecta, mi Luna.”

And you shook your head.

“I'm not perfect; I still have things that may bother and upset you.” You teased him, eyeballing him as he got up and came to your side.

“That may be true, but I know I will still want you.”

“And I will still want you, mi Estrella. I know if challenges were to hit us, we wouldn't back down.”

Three strings popped.

“Dance with me, mi Luna.”

Surprised by the suddenness of the request, you let him take the lead, swaying to the satisfying and powerful vocals that wreathed the tender love you two shared in the middle of it all.

The rest of the night went on without a hitch. Nearly finishing the wine bottle, you were slightly tipsy, and Miguel was still functioning as if he didn't have three glasses. After finishing the three-course meal, you both gave a standing ovation to the performers.

Tipping the service well, Miguel hailed another cab. Giving the driver your address, you both slid in one after the other.

You were both giggly, doing your best to hold it in and not be too loud. Miguel would sneakily glide his hands up your dress, as you would pretend nothing was going on.

Scooting alongside you, his unsheathed hands caressed your body. Biting your bottom lip to stifle any moans from escaping, you gazed at him from the corner of your eye.

“Ay, mi corazón, wait till we get back to your place. I'm not ready for this night to end.” He whispered low enough so only you could hear his husky, seductive voice.

His watchful eyes observed the driver, making sure he wasn't peeking as one of his talons scraped over the inner thigh and right in-between your legs. By subtly parting them, you allowed him to leave ghost-like circles over the dampening undergarment.

A sharp inhale nearly made its way out as you pretended to cough to mask it. A single sweatdrop rushed down your face as he continued his treatment on the spot. He then prodded the nub with a sharp nail.

“Not one sound. We don't want to get caught, do we, mi Luna?" He nipped at your ear before glossing his tongue down to the lobe.

Your heart was in your eardrums, teeth refusing to leave the bottom lip, to the point where you believed it was bleeding.

Eventually reaching the front of the building, you quickly paid for the fare as you both staggered out of the vehicle and hobbled straight towards the elevator doors.

The anticipation rose as you anxiously eyeballed the yellow light trickling down each number so agonizingly slow.

4… 3… 2…

The second it reached one, you clambered in as you impatiently pressed the close button, silently begging it to go faster.

When the lobby was out of sight, Miguel swept you off the ground, pinning you to the wall behind.

You immediately encased your legs around his waist, your tongues attacking as you bruised each other's lips. Your hands roamed all over his strong shoulders before Miguel seized them and slammed them over your head with one claw. His other hand delicately punctured some skin on the outer thigh, making you moan in sheer ecstasy.

The elevator dinged as Miguel swung you onto his shoulder, making you yelp at the action.

His calloused fingers gripped close on your behind as he dug for his key in his pocket. Eventually finding it, he fumbled with the lock. You offered to have him let you down so he could open it, until you heard the click.

He nearly broke the door from opening it, pulling you back down, retaking your earlier position, and ramming your lips back on his. Kicking the wooden door shut with his foot, he took off his shoes and made his way to the couch, flinging you on it, as he kneeled in front.

His hands roamed over every bit of your draped body, tongues in a sloppily dance. You tugged at his hair, grinding your hips up to him. He pulled away as you both took in heavy breaths of air, as if you had gone without oxygen for days.

“Mi Luna, mi corazón, I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to take so much care of you. I want to make love to you. I will make love to you. Will you allow me to do that, Mi Luna?”

All you could do was nod.

“I will only do it if you say it, mi Luna.”

“Yes! Mi Estrella, yes, please make love to me! Por favor, si, anyth-”

Miguel cut you off, his tongue nearly sliding down your throat. Restlessness took over as he hauled your dress over your head and threw it over the sofa.

You reached down and started to take off your wedges when Miguel shoved your arm over your hair.

“Leave your fishnets and shoes on.”

Miguel dipped down, a carnal growl making its way from his throat as his tongue teased and explored your neck and collarbone.

Whining out, your back arched into his warm, wet appendage, loving every nip and bite from him. You moaned as his teeth gently clamped down on the crook of your neck. You felt every suction, every stroke from the tongue, and the vibrations whenever he groaned.

Your panties dampened even more. He was voracious with his mouth, his hands moving to firmly grope your breasts, hips, and thighs.

“Oh, mi Luna, la única para mi. Eres tan bueno, tan bueno conmigo.”

He peered into your lustrous eyes, his blazing ones never fleeting as his thumbs parted your lips, talons brushing against your tongue. You wrap it around one of them, sucking on it, not wanting to break contact, until you get lost in it. Lapping the digit in circles, you bob your head back and forth, causing him to purr and tug your head back.

“Such a naughty girl, making papi hot and bothered like that.”

Heavy pants heave out of you before you take Miguel back into another amorous kiss. You latch your tongue around his, your squeaks filling the room, causing Miguel to groan, squeezing your chest.

Moving away, he peeled you off the couch and hoisted you in his arms, bridal style, carrying you to the bedroom and dropping you wearily on the bed.

“I'm going to devote every second to pleasuring this body.”

“I know you will, mi Estrella.” You contentedly sighed out.

Claiming those sweet lips one last time, he tears the bra off your body.

“Miggy! You have to stop ripping my clothes!” You squirm and pout.

“You know I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you an entire new wardrobe if it means I get to see this body.” He kneads your breasts, pinching the nipples and receiving a gasp.

“So responsive. One thing I adore so much about you.”

Taking your left nipple in his clutch and chewing on it as his fangs threatened to draw out, he had to consciously keep them in check. His tongue lapped and sucked the bud as trails of spit leaked down your breast.

“Oh, Miggy. So good, that feels so good.” You shuddered at the feeling.

Pulling back with the areola still in-between his teeth, he released it, then delved into nibbling the valley of your bust, leaving faint traces up and down your stomach and thighs.

Your whimpers drove Miguel up into the stratosphere. His jeans were unbearably constructive, and his body was burning with full lust. He removed his blazer and tossed it, his mouth not once leaving, wanting to mark all over you. Your body relaxed, humming at the nips and laps from his tongue.

“You are so amazing, mi Estrella.”

He smiled, popping your right nipple out of his mouth. “And you are even more so, mi Luna.”

Surveying the purplish-red bruises, he nearly patted himself on the back, prideful over what he did. He leaned up until your face was in view. You couldn't make much out, as the room was dark, with only a shimmer of lights protruding from your window.

The one thing you could see was the fiery, vermillion irises feverishly longing for you.

Grazing your luscious figure, Miguel trailed his hands down to your panties, stroking and playing with the waistband. “Mi Luna. Don’t think I didn’t take notice of you shaking that perfectly cute ass for me at the lounge. You wanted to rile me up; I know you did.”

His heated breath on your chest and neck made goosebumps spring all down your body.

“Mm, you were such a gentleman; it was only fair to reward you with a little something, papi.”

“Now let me reward you.” Miguel pecked at your collarbone.

“For what?”

“For being you. For being so amazing to me and taking the time to... care for someone like me.”

Your hands brushed along his neck until each one was placed on either side of his cheeks. Raising him to you, you displayed your love.

“You deserve it all. You are worth it all.”

His stomach and chest fluttered as the kiss he gave held so much devotion, fondness, and ardor. He wanted to give you everything—to give all of him to you.

Bracing himself on his knees, he speedily unbuttoned his shirt and paused.

“Sit up, mi Luna.” He commanded as you followed the direct, confused.

He wrapped the fabric around your backside, took each of your arms, and slid them into the sleeves.

“Fóllame…” he croaked out.

It was loose on you, as one part drooped off your shoulder. Seeing you like this made something tick. A carnal desire. A primal rage.

The wedges, your wetness leaking down, messing up your thighs. The love-bites on your perfect breasts and neck. The fishnets have tiny, damp spots, and you're wearing his shirt. Your scent mixing with it.

The image alone nearly made him explode.

"Miggy, are you okay?” You tilted your head.

And that was it. That innocent call of his name. You checking in on him. That lovely voice. That voice he always wants to hear.

He slumped on the floor, grappling your legs and anchoring them over his shoulders.

“I want you to scream out. I want them to know who is making you feel so good, mi corazón.”

Arousal and fear settled in your eyes—that blazing desire you saw within. How you craved it so much.

“I want you, Miguel.”

He dove in.

His tongue lapping up the streams that trickled from your inner thighs, making sure to leave love-bites in his tracks.

“Mines, you're mine. Eres mía. Eres mía.”

You wail out, grasping onto your bedsheets. The firm push of his tongue against your clothed opening had you spying stars. The cotton becoming slicker and stickier with each lick around the folds nearly had you releasing.

“I need these gone.” With a swift rip, your underwear was torn off, and you couldn't help but snarl at him.

“Miggy! No more ripping—oh fuck!”

You cried out. Miguel plunged deep within your damp opening, jutting his tongue in and out as he felt every clench of your walls around the muscle.

A possessive, guttural growl reverberated from his chest, making your legs tremble from the resonance.

“Miggy! Take your time! Oh fuck! Please take your time!” Your hands gripped your face, raising your upper torso.

“I'm sorry, mi corazón; you're so good. So, so sweet.” His tongue swirled around your labia in rapid succession, provoking a screech.

“Ple-please, Miggy! Slo-slow down!”

He had to force himself away from his delicious meal. His claws pierced into your thighs, and he fought to regain his breath.

“Te pido disculpas, mi Luna. You just taste so good; you are my addiction. But for you, I'll go take my time. I'll start when you're ready.”

An admiring smile embellished on your face. How it managed to elevate your beauty even more, he would never know.

“Gracias, mi Estrella. I'm always ready for you.” You stroked his soft curls before Miguel took his claws and interlocked them in your fingers.

Lining himself back up, the tip of his tongue carefully lapped around the edge of your folds, taking in every whimper and mewl leaving you, blessing his ears.

Relieving all stress, you relaxed your body, yearning to feel every part. The passion from every glide over your vulva to the flicks on your clit sent you to a blissful heaven. Your defenseless moans of intimacy ricocheted off the walls. Miguel battled the inner frenzied side wanting to unleash its assault on you as he steadily made eights around the clitoris and entrance.

“Mi-Miggy.” You slurred out, “Go faster. You can go faster.”

His eyes glinted at you, a fierce scarlet, as that beastly part didn’t take that request for granted. Miguel took a hold of your legs, pushing them up a bit more until your wedges dug a bit into the upper part of his back. A few sweat drops ran down the side of you, attempting to backtrack, but it was too late.

Miguel shook his head briskly, his tongue wiggling madly, making out with your pussy. His mouth engulfed you, and a raw scream of his name departed your lips, having your neighbor knocking on the barrier in-between.

“Mi-Miggy! I can’t be too-”

“What did I say? Let them hear you. Let them know who is doing this to you.”

He slurped and sucked on your cunt, letting the murky fluids leak from the sides of his chin. He devoured every inch of you as you desperately bucked your hips up to his face, sobbing out.

Miguel came to a sudden halt, his tongue still buried deep in you. With a disoriented gasp, you jerk your head down, bewildered by the sudden stoppage.

“Keep going! Why did you stop?” You sobbed.

Yanking his tongue out, a wicked grin appeared along with his pearly, razor-sharp fangs.

“I sensed your desperate rocks. So, mi Luna, you’re going to do some work as well, as much as I love to worship my prey.”

Rising to his full height, he removed his jeans and the confining briefs, the glistening shaft springing out, throbbing madly. You immediately clenched around nothing, a longing gasp huffing out.

Crawling near you, he unceremoniously guided you towards the headboard as you nervously shuffled until your back hit the cool wood. You gulped loudly while one of his knuckles stroked the side of your cheek.

“I'm going to fuck your little pussy until you fall apart over and over.”

Clinging his claws to your waist, he flipped positions in such a way that he was on his back and you were straddling his waistline, feeling him poke against the cusp of your bottom.

“On my face.” He ordered with that husky grunt.

You hesitated when a firm hand smacked your left asscheek. A surprise cry left as Miguel spanked it again.

“No stopping, mi Luna. On my face, por favor. And remember, you're going to go at your pace.”

Squirming your way up to him, you hovered over when Miguel dropped you down. Kissing the crevice around your folds, he plugged his tongue in your hole, not moving a single inch.

Luckily, you connected the dots, rocking your hips in a circular pattern. His muscular arms kept you sturdy as your velvet sex squeezed and squished around it. Miguel's nose swiping your stiffened nub whenever your hips propel forward.

Throwing your head back, you felt the release creeping up, and you pressed on more and more.

With him allowing you full control, Miguel lays there as your fluids cover the bottom half of his face. You whined out, tears pricking in your vision, your mind in a frenzy.

You didn't want this to end. He wasn't doing anything, and he was still making you feel like your head was in the clouds.

You were on top of the universe.

His hand roams up your soft thigh. His thumb and pointer pinching, rolling your clit in between, creating a split low moan between you two.

“I'm going to—I'm going to cum, Miggy!”

Deciding to help you out, his tongue drove into you with immense momentum. You squished from every thrust, your juices splashing about, and your walls squeezing tight.

“Miggy, Miggy, Miggy, close, I'm close, I'm- I'm-”

Rasping out, you bucked alongside. When his tongue dipped in, you'd dip down. A shrill left you and your body maniacally spasmed.

“Miguel!”

Your orgasm was potent. Digits curled in his hair, your body slightly curved backwards before slumping over with hard, heavy breaths. He cleaned up a bit of the mess, wanting to still keep some as a remainder.

“Mi Estrella… fuck me. You are too good at that.”

Plucking you off and settling you on your back, he nuzzled his face into your chest, before enveloping his lips around yours. You waltzed your tongue around, tasting all of you.

“So sweet; how fitting for a woman like you.” He kissed your cheek multiple times.

“I think it's more tangy, so someone's taste buds are broken.” You both laugh, placing your foreheads together.

“¿Estás bien, mi Luna?” He trailed a line of affectionate pecks from your cheek to the crook of your shoulder.

You nodded your head, your upper limbs entwined over his thick neck. “I'm always okay whenever I'm with you.”

A coy smile spread on your inviting lips.

“Mi corazón, I'm going to worship every inch of you. It's just me and you.”

Miguel leaned downward, catching you in a fierce, sloppy open-mouth kiss. You gladly returned, your body the hottest it has ever been.

He cast you back up, hitching your legs around his waist. Rotating so your head would prop up against your pillows, he sank his body weight down, entrapping you.

“Las cosas que me haces, Luna mía. Las muchas cosas.” Miguel muttered in your ear.

“Are you ready, mi Luna?”

“Always.”

Lowering himself, his erection rubbed against your folds, lubricating you both as much as possible. You croon, eyes half-lidded, leaning up to suck and lick the crook of his neck.

“I'm going to start pushing. Relax, mi Luna, relax.”

The tip lined up to your entrance, gently nudging it in to stretch you. Groaning out together, Miguel's compulsion nearly took over from your tight heat clenching him for dear life.

“Ne-need to adjust. I'm sorry!”

“Shh, it's okay. Your pace, corazón, your pace.”

Miguel slid further in, your walls pulsating with any single shift. Half-way, you grinded up against him; loosening yourself. Miguel gritted his teeth, taking every inch of your reaction.

“Go–go ahead. All of it, please!” you cried out.

When he bottomed the rest in one go, you both froze. Every twitch against your fluttering, wet muscles causes cascades of heavy grunts from him and sultry moans from you.

“Apretado, apretado a mi alrededor. Muy bien, eres muy buena mi Luna hermosa.”

He starts to pump. Withdrawing himself to the head before ramming it back to the hilt, contouring it until it was perfectly molded. Flinging your head back, a lusty moan leaves your mouth.

His hips smacking against your hip bones, your painted nails digging into Miguel's back, leaving more marks and scars that will bring loving memories instead of anguish. Your whines are bouncing over the bedroom walls, driving him wild.

Slightly angling your hips up some more, Miguel found that sweet spot as those more modest whimpers devolved into pure, lustful adulterous screams. Miguel took pride as you squelched with every thrust, your juices covering his entire length.

“Music. Music–ah, fuck. Such a beautiful song leaving that alluring mouth.”

“Mi-Miguel!” You wailed his name like a trance you couldn't escape. The only word you moaned as he relished it.

“Yes, my moon, speak only my name. How did I get you? How did I get so lucky to get you?”

Bodies coated in sweat, some of Miguel's trickling on you as he pressed his forehead on yours, gazing longingly into those fervent eyes.

He never wanted this to stop. He never wanted it to end. He didn't want to lose you.

Because at this moment, nothing matters. At this time, he only focused on you and your shared admiration.

It was only you two.

“Only us, mi Luna. I need to... I need you.”

Miguel crashed his lips into yours, muffling your cries, tongues whirling in a wild duel. The bedframe creaked aggressively, his sharp piston humping causing the headboard to ram against the wall, provoking a knock from the neighbors, but Miguel didn't care.

Your arms cloaked around his backside, dragging your nails all over. The wedges chafing against his lower back, as his tip brutally assaulted your cervix.

“Mi Estrella! I love you, mi Estrella! Oh fu-fuck!” Your head turned towards the side of the pillow, causing a growl to rumble out of Miguel's throat.

“No, look at me; let me see that gorgeous face.” He forced your head back.

Flushed and flustered, your mouth opened, your tongue flopped out, and saliva dribbled down the sides. Your pupils dilated, with more tears welling up in your lashes and staining your face.

His tanned cheeks were red as you locked on to his hungry, driven, and lustful stare, yet you could make out the authentic love. Your heart swelled, and your affection, passion, and love for him rang true wherever he was around.

You never wanted this to end.

“I'm close. I'm so close, mi Estrella!”

“Yes, mi Luna. Let me appreciate you. Cum for me, cum on this cock, corazón.”

The sweet musk and strawberry champagne perfume radiating off you attacked his nostrils, his brain swirling with lascivious urges.

His penetrating eyes appeared redder than ever. His member was pulsating with every plunge. His balls snapping against your folds sent you in a spiral.

"S-so tight! Tight only for this cock destroying this—Ngh, this beautiful pussy?"

"Yes! Just for you! Only for you! Miguel!"

Your senses blurred, and the coil finally burst.

Your back arched off the bed, your chest squishing into his as your legs trembled wildly. Shrieking his name violently, there was another irked knock, although it went unnoticed.

Miguel grunted as his length was vehemently squeezed from the intense orgasm. His claws were harshly clutching the bedsheets, leaving tears.

Attempting to come off your high, you shivered, still sensing the palpitations from Miguel's shaft. Your emotions were going haywire. You moaned in his ear.

“Come for me, Miguel. Please, mi Estrella. I need you. I need you rooted deep in me!”

When those words flowed out, he grabbed your ass before yanking you up into his lap. You yelped, your hands clutching his broad shoulders.

“Be careful with what you ask for.” He licked your earlobe before kissing your sweaty forehead. “Te voy a dar exactamente lo que quieres. Tú. Son. Mía.”

Checking to make sure your legs were locked and steady, taking your behind in his gigantic claws, he pulled out until it was just the tip before shoving it back in one go, vigorously impelling you down on him.

You screeched, your toes curling, still very sensitive from your previous climax. You kissed his bulky chest and shoulders in no particular order. Taking in his heavy musk, the cedarwood aroma from him. It was so intoxicating that you could be addicted to it.

The air filled with gushing, wet slaps as it harmonized with your and Miguel's moans.

“Mi corazón, my moon. You are the only one. Mines... nunca querrás perderte.”

“I'm only yours, my star! I will always be yours!”

Miguel released an animalistic growl as he nearly pounded into you with his inhuman speed. The wooden legs holding the bed up threaten to snap. The headboard surely left streaks of chipped paint after this.

Miguel would drag you down while simultaneously pushing his pelvis up to meet your behind, and as you shamelessly dripped onto the torn sheets below, you added more to the murky puddle underneath.

Your bodies collided in a rhythmless dance of lust.

“Mis ojos adornados por la Luna. Para bien de mí, no te merezco. ¡Joder, corazón!”

Miguel was reaching his limits.

He thought of you together, far away. Happy, full of felicity and hope. Trying for the first child, the first one who will have your smile, that will have his ruby-red eyes. The one with your caring personality. The one with his head-strong personality.

And as the snow turns into flowers and the green leaves transform into many shades of warm colors, there will be more. More with his glimmering, crimson-eyed and your smile running around full of that love and compassion. Maybe wrestling, or doing fun experiments, or in the mini-farm picking those fresh fruits and vegetables.

He will finally be happy with his family once more.

Three more strings snapped.

His movements grew sloppier. His mind is only on filling you up. He grasped the back of your head, carefully wrapping his long appendages in your hair, and tugged you close to his mouth.

“I want you stuffed. Seal you to the brink with my seed.”

“Yes! Yes, yes! I love you! I love you!”

His name was heard for all of Nueva York.

Miguel's fangs snuck deep into the side of your neck. Snarling, he coated your heated, moist cavern with thick, heavy spurts, threatening to leak out.

Talons pricking your bottom as a bit of blood colored the tips. Even your blood was sweet. Still very fitting.

You shivered at the pleasurable pain from your crashing finish and his bite. How easily it was inserted into your skin made you hum with delight. The venom coursed through your bloodstream as you began to lose mobility in your body.

Miguel idly opened his eyes before a short burst of panic forced them wider as he promptly retracted his fangs.

“Mierda. I'm sorry, mi Luna, I-I lost control and-”

With the last few bits of strength, you uncoordinatedly and gently whacked his shoulder before it flopped down.

“It's okay. All okay.” You slurred with a grin on your face.

Miguel searched for any discomfort before a smile was placed on his lips.

He licked the puncture wound clean; he gradually pulled himself out as a satisfying pop rang out, causing him to grunt and you to groan.

“You're going to be immobilized for a good minute. I injected a bit too much.”

He pulled your shoes and fishnets off, but decided to leave his shirt on you. You couldn't move a thing, but you did not mind. In fact, you accepted that this may have been a new experience you will thoroughly enjoy in the future.

Your eyes glazed over, observing Miguel assiduously clean you before your eyelids grew heavier before shutting them all the way.

A piano and saxophone blended within the stars. You pivot back and forth, only to see him there. He shimmered more than the ones penning against him.

You floated over, taking his harsh claw into your hand. But yet, it was pleasant and gentle.

His arm around your waist, he gazes at you as you spin around the skies, the stars, comets, and planets.

The illuminated dance and song of naturalism and intimacy swirled alongside you both.

You are the moon and he, the shining star.

• • •

“Pete- E-616 Peter!”

Jess waved her wrist, refusing to go through the ordeal of having a bunch of Peters point at themselves, deducing who she wanted.

“Hey, Jess! What's going on?” His short, shaggy hair, five-o’clock shadow, and huge, but tired, brown eyes popped into frame.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Her head whirled back and forth. “Privately.”

Peter scratched the back of his perplexed. “Uh, okay.”

He lagged behind her, seeking out any answers to the questions he imposed, but she stayed hushed until they reached a hallway that he was highly unfamiliar with.

“Is this part of the medical bay?”

His head rolled back and forth between the white panels and blue tiles.

“No. This is a restricted area that not many know about. There were only supposed to be two people made aware of this location.”

“But with me here, I'm the third person who knows of it.” He leaned against one of the walls, still lost on where exactly he was and what Jess exactly wanted.

She shook her head. “You're the fourth person who knows of it. Can you guess who the others are?”

Squinting his eyes, he began to conjure up suspects. “Well, obviously you, so that's one. Me being two. Miguel! He created this, so it makes sense. And the fourth?”

Creasing his brows, he went through the list of potential candidates before swaying his head after a minute passed.

“I got nothing for the last one.”

Jess tapped her foot and nodded her head. “Okay, let me get this out of the way. I know you have a soft spot for Miguel, and like myself and others, you want the best for him.”

“Yeeess?” Peter crossed his arms, wondering where she was headed with this.

“And we want him to be happy. Well, as happy as this man can possibly reach, which isn't high.”

“Jess, I'm confused.”

“Over the past week or so, I've been gathering records and information on where Miguel goes and the people he's been bringing here.”

She taps away on her watch, pulling up an undisclosed document. “You have your officials, building regulators, the usual. But there's one person, specifically a woman, he's been ‘slyly’ bringing into this establishment.”

Jess closes out the file, then plants her hands on her hips. “With that newly added info, care to take a gander at who the fourth person is?”

Peter bit his lip and stumbled on his brain to object to any of that.

“Still no clue. And come on, Jess, keeping track of where he goes and who he invites is a bit… of a helicopter parent move. He isn't a teenager; he's a full adult with a life to live. So surely it shouldn't be anything bad.”

“Peter, I'm not trying to helicopter him, but when he's being more sneaky about what he's doing more than usual, that's where we have to draw the line.”

“Is it still about the paperwork? I thought you all caught up with that?”

“It's not about the paperwork, Peter! It started with that, but it descended into more when he would randomly leave his post for hours on end, lying about making codes and inventions, or bringing in some random woman who isn't a spider!”

She threw her hands up, slapping them back down to her sides.

“Well, he might have reasons for them. He can do what he likes, you know? Sure, he's been slacking a bit, but we all have our slump moments.”

He pushed his shoulders up before bringing them back down.

“Peter–”

“I have moments where I disappear. I do it all the time, and I still get my work done. Maybe that's where Mayday gets it from; it might be a Parker thing, but still, all goes well! And besides, I think she's good for him. But what do I know? I mean, I remember when Miguel blew a gasket over some harmless prank E-573 and E-25667 did. My God, that man needs some type of break, like all the breaks–”

“Wait, wait, backtrack. Did you just say she's good for him?”

Peter's eyes squeezed tightly, ‘ah, fuck me,’ on loop in his brain the second he slipped up.

Jess sucked in her teeth and bowed her head. “You only get one. One. One chance to tell me where he is right at this moment.”

Her arms connected over her jutting stomach.

“Forgive me… He's on a date with her. That's all I know. But, I don't know where they could be at this very hour.” Peter scrunched up, discomfited.

A critical laugh escaped from Jess. “Wow, okay. You knew exactly where he was and who he's with, and still tried to play dumb with me?”

“And that was wrong of me, and I'm sorry, Jess, but he's a grown man. He's allowed to also go out and enjoy himself as well.”

“I'm not saying he's not allowed to do any of that. If he wanted to go to a damn nightclub five times a week, then whatever, it would be his life!”

“I feel like a lounge would suit him more…” he sardonically mumbled.

“PETER, I-”

Jess brings her hands up to her lips in a prayer position to calm her nerves.

“I'm trying not to be the bad guy here. We all have needs and things we want to do, but skimping out on tasks he highly enforces and expects us to do? Sneaking an outsider into the HQ like he is some goddamn teenager, Peter?”

Peter lowered his head, pretending that Mayday, his source of comfort in these distressing times, was right there.

“Who's to say what trouble that would be put on us if it was someone else attempting that? He needs to be able to also balance this out, but that's the problem!”

He pressed his lips in a thin line as he allowed her to continue.

“This man is so unstable that he doesn't know how to exactly balance these things! We all went through the training and council meetings for these reasons. To understand the situation we are in. We did, Peter.”

She firmly pointed at herself, then at him.

“Yet him?” She's turned toward Miguel's office. “Not even once, yet still expected and expects every one of us to do it.” She spun her pointer finger.

“Well, Jess, how would you exactly know that?”

“Lyla.” Her voice was assertive and full of control.

“Yo, yo.” She pixelated between the two.

“Give me the file for Miguel's family training, counseling sessions, or anything in that department.”

Lyla opened up a screen in front of her. A minute passed as Jess patiently waited, and Peter stood awkwardly until the monitor disappeared.

“Uhh, yeah, so about that. They don't-”

“They don't exist. Thank you, Lyla; you can go.”

The A.I. left as quickly as she arrived.

Peter glossed over, having no more rebuttals. "So, what's going to happen?”

Jess’s shoulders slumped. “I'm going to talk to him,” she held up her hand when Peter tried to interject, “And find a smart resolution on how he can still do his job and still see this girl. I won't go hard. He will have to face repercussions, but it'll only be temporary.”

His eyes lowered to his fuzzy, pink slippers, eliciting an exhausted sigh from her. “And if I need help, I'll call for you.”

“You think he will take it well?”

“Depends. How much does he like this girl?”

“Enough to get you on his tail more so than you regularly are.” He joked, gaining a smirk from her.

“That's a lot. But I won't do it immediately. I still need to know what I want to say and make sure all things are in order.”

Jess clicked at her device, dragging items into folders.

“Promise you won't go too hard on him. It's nice seeing him happy.”

“I'll try not to, Peter. I'll try.”

• • •

“Hey.”

“Hm?” Miguel stroked your back, his eyes fluttering open.

“The solace reached a hundred percent.”

“It was already there, but what makes you raise it all the way?”

“We're the neighbors who found it within each other.”

You felt the vibrations in Miguel's chest as you both huffed out a chuckle.

The light continues to glow; it continues to shine on the object that wants to be seen. He's able to sit up.

But the strings can reconnect.

And the darkness can still swallow that light whole whenever it wants.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#miguel o'hara x reader #tales the songs weave #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #atsv #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel x fem!reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #read on ao3 #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x y/n

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misscammiedawn · 29 days

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I Am Also A We - Integration and Functional Multiplicity in sense8

CW: sense8 depicts suicide, transphobia, medical trauma, deadnaming, chronic alcoholism, drug abuse, homophobia, homophobic slurs, intense sexual themes, plays sexual assault towards men for humor. Check DoesTheDogDie for more information.

If you watch the show be warned the first episodes involve a family forcefully trying to (allegorically) detransition a transgender woman and circumvent her agency in a medical setting. This may be more than most can handle.

"I've been thinking about my life, and all of the mistakes that I've made. The ones that stay with me, the ones that I regret, are the ones that I made because of fear. For a long time, I was afraid to be who I am because I was taught by my parents that there's something wrong with someone like me. Something offensive, something you would avoid, maybe even pity. Something that you could never love. My mom, she's a fan of St. Thomas Aquinas. She calls pride a sin. And of all the venal and mortal sins, St. Thomas saw pride as the queen of the seven deadlies. He saw it as the ultimate gateway sin that would turn you quickly into a sinaholic. But hating isn't a sin on that list. Neither is shame. I was afraid of this parade because I wanted it so badly to be a part of it. So today, I'm marching for that part of me that was once afraid to march and for all the people who can't march - the people who living lives like I did. Today, I march to remember that I'm not just a me but I'm also a we. And we march with pride." Nomi Marks (sense8 - Season 1, Episode 2)

Humans are fascinating and varied creatures.

Imagine for a moment, a transgender hactivist in San Francisco, a closeted homosexual movie star in Mexico City, a cop in Chicago, a Nordic expat DJ living in London, an orphaned gangster in Berlin, a bus driver in Nairobi who has never lived in a home with running water, a Hindu bio-chemist in Mumbai and a kickboxer in Seoul whose father owns a powerful investment firm.

Lives so disparate that it would be simple to create walls of division to keep them wholly separate and incapable of acting as a whole...

And yet the show is all about erasing the division between people and as the show goes on these 8 people with all their unique and individual perspectives and backgrounds, will become one and many. A collective as one.

That seems like something I may want to talk a little about.

sense8 is a Netflix drama that ran for 2 seasons (and had 2 specials) between 2015-2018. Created by the Wachowski Sisters of Matrix fame and J Michael Straczynski of Babylon 5 fame.

It is a show about radical empathy, the full spectrum of the human experience and the virtues of living openly and connected in the face of a world that pressures the marginalized to hide and remain divided.

Yet in listening to our contributors, especially those with Indigenous ties or who identify as people of color and/or not bound by the ties of Western medicine, dissociation as it’s been described so far [...] can mean many things that are not helpful. A general consensus from these contributors is that trauma survivors ought never be shamed for doing what they have to do in order to survive, especially because so many of the contexts into which people are born promote division, disconnection, and marginalization. Usually this context is shaped by a dominant culture that relies on separation in its most unhelpful and wounding sense to uphold the power that the dominant culture so readily craves. (Dissociation Made Simple - Jamie Marich)

To acknowledge the flaws in both shows and creators, The Wachowski's tend to have a lens of privilege and blind spots to their works that undermine their messages of radical empathy, most famously their fumble in the diversity of Cloud Atlas' cast and the use of white actors in Asian roles (Natalie Portman was originally offered the role that went to Bae Doona).

sense8 is not immune to this and does have issues with connecting the 8 main characters without consideration to certain biases. Some mild examples are that the Christmas special having all 8 unanimously celebrating the Christian holiday (including a Hindu and a character with religious trauma centered on Christianity specifically) to the unchecked Copaganda and the show completely erases asexuality as a valid lifestyle with dialogue even going as far to say that sex is why we exist and to deny it is to deny being human.

Also as someone with an extreme aversion to depictions of suicide... this show does like to offer suicide as The Only Way Out a lot. The show opens on a suicide and the final episode involves no fewer than 3 attempts by various characters when they are cornered. One even succeeds. Lana's experience with her suicide attempt was important to her coming out as a trans woman. A version of that moment is even depicted in the 4th Matrix movie with Neo (allegorically Lana herself) helping someone else wake to their own identity in a suicide attempt. I do not want to rob her of the transformative power of that event and memory. It's clearly important to her and her work, but it's troublesome that averted suicide attempts are always depicted virtuously in her work. Again... it's a matter of blind spots and biases.

I acknowledge the show is flawed in these and many more respects but it does speak to empathy and connection in a way that though not perfectly placed upon the screen, is a message worth internalizing. Though it's okay to be uncomfortable with how it is presented and opt out.

Regardless of imperfect execution and the early cancellation, it is still a miracle of a show. In many ways it is a show that shouldn't exist. It cost $9 million per episode and its filming schedule required flying between 11 cities for 3 weeks of shooting a piece. It features full nudity, multiple sex scenes involving huge swaths of the cast at once.

To put all of that in perspective, the entire experience is literally bookended by a rainbow strap-on glistening from use.

But... this is not a show about dissociative disorders. Mental illness is only represented in that characters briefly question their sanity. So why am I talking about it in my Media, Myself and I essay series on positive representation of dissociative disorders in fiction?

Well... it just so happens to also feature the best depiction of Functional Multiplicity in all of television.

Functional Multiplicity or "Integration" is a goal in treating complex dissociative disorders where the dissociative system are able to function as a single person with minimal division between parts.

It is important to note that intergration and fusion are two separate concepts and are both valid outcomes for treatment within CDD therapy. Where fusion is the concept of merging all dissociated personalities into a single unified personality, integration allows the system to communicate and cooperate with full access to memories and skills with no inner-conflict exacerbating symptoms.

The final approach in Fraser’s article addresses the issue of fusion or integration, a strong area of potential controversy for those diagnosed with or identifying as DID. Many individuals with DID strongly resist or oppose a psychiatrist or any other provider’s insistence that they integrate the various aspects of their personality into a cohesive whole. This process can feel disrespectful to the members of a system, and if you are reading this passage and have ever felt triggered at the suggestion that you need to integrate, you are not alone. (Dissociation Made Simple - Jamie Marich)

The terms “dissociation” and “integration” have long been synonymous with one another—meant to signify that the only reasonable goal in working with splitting and compartmentalization must be the fusing together of dissociated parts to create one single “homogenized” adult. Daniel Siegel, however, makes a strong case against defining integration as fusion. He asserts (2010a) a different view: “Integration requires differentiation and linkage.” Before we can integrate two phenomena, we have to differentiate them and “own” them as separate entities. We can’t simply “act as if” they are connected without noticing their separateness. But, having clearly differentiated them so they can be studied and befriended, we then have to link them together in a way that fosters a transformed sense of the client’s experience, facilitating healing and reconnection. - (Healing the Fragmented Selves - Janina Fischer)

Acknowledging the separateness and clearly differentiating people to befriend, link and foster a transformed sense of experience, facilitating healing and connection.

Now that sounds like sense8 to me.

As mentioned above the shows protagonists are from different walks of life. Nomi, Lito, Will, Riley, Wolfgang, Capheus, Kala and Sun are all "born" into a "cluster", a nest of 8 connected minds who share their every thought and experience with one another.

The core 8 are able to share control of one another's bodies as well as speak telepathically in one another's heads. "Sharing" and "Visiting" respectively, if we are to play the YA Novel game of naming every single concept in a fictional world.

Each character has their strengths and weaknesses and connections that make up for their weaknesses.

To give an example Lito is an actor who has a little bit of a diva streak. He's good at lying under pressure, he can flirt with women effortlessly, he is deeply in touch with his emotions and he lives in absolute terror of his homosexual lifestyle being discovered for fear it will ruin his career and the comfort he has earned in life.

Wolfgang is ruthless and blunt and so leans on Lito's ability to lie under pressure, something that he is typically incapable of doing because he does not value roundabout methods of deception when he can just brute force his way to solutions. Lito helps him lie when the situation calls for it.

Sun is emotionally repressed, choosing to work her emotions through her fists, though she is one of the most privileged members of the cluster she has more than enough reason to be sad with a father who refused to show her love, the worst brother on the planet, a dead mother and a plot that involves her being wrongfully imprisoned and subject to multiple assassination attempts. She can offer the rest of the cluster her fighting skills but it is Lito who helps her to be able to cry when she needs it. In a beautiful scene late in season 2 a depressed Lito is crying in Sun's hotel room and Sun admonishes him saying that she is the one with reason to cry and Lito responds plainly "But you never would. Maybe that is why I am here."

On the flipside whenever Lito is in conflict about his life in the closet he pulls up Nomi, a transgender woman who has been through the entire coming out process, and leans heavily on her.

Though it takes much of the first season for the characters to understand what is happening to them we eventually get to see all 8 of them completely at home with one another's thoughts and perspectives.

They are separate, yes. But they are of one mind.

This is akin to the end result of trauma focused parts work in therapy. When a person is not yet treated for trauma based dissociation their inability to integrate their experiences creates a fracture and a disharmony that breeds emotional volatility and a breakdown in inner experience.

Disowning requires selective attention, a focusing away from whatever is “not me.” The senses fail to register what is taking place around us; we don’t feel our emotional responses, good or bad; we are in a zone. We can’t “own” our anger or dependence or fear when we don’t feel them. We can’t “own” traumatic events that we haven’t witnessed. We can’t know ourselves as whole human beings because only those qualities valued in a traumatic environment are accessible to consciousness. Segregating intense feelings, though, results in affect intolerance: if we can escape our emotions by automatically and involuntarily shifting into a different part of the self or different feeling state, we never get the opportunity to exercise our “emotional muscles,” and all feelings gradually become more and more intolerable. Inner conflicts are never resolved, just distanced. When that happens, acting out (self-destructively or addictively) and “acting in” (through self-hatred, self-judgment, punitive introspection) become the only avenues for regulating emotions and autonomic arousal. Splitting or fragmentation must become more complex and creative. - (Healing the Fragmented Selves - Janina Fischer)

As the main cluster of the show are able to expand their horizons via empathy and connection to one another they are able to challenge their blind spots and achieve a level of comfort in their world that was not accessible before. From our above example Sun can process her emotions thanks to Lito.

In a similar fashion, in Season 2 Kala becomes guilty about her lifestyle because she discovers that the company she works for is sending inferior medication to Capheus' region of the world and through experiencing life through Capheus' eyes she is aware of her position of privilege and uses her power to make positive change.

Had the show have been able to continue on this empathy would have been the center of the show with Capheus running for political office, Lito embracing his role as a queer icon who can inspire others and Riley risking exposure by touring her music and making contact with other sensates.

Alas. We'll never get the promised potential of the show's premise.

Another factor that was promised but was not fully paid off on was the concept of blockers.

In the show other sensates could visit (but not share) with a single member of a cluster if they make eye contact (Cloud Atlas which shared 3 directors and 3 writers with this show also included this concept of eye contact creating a human connection) and the only way to prevent their intrusion was to take blockers. A medication that cut off their empathetic connections and turned off their psychic ability.

The blocker allegory was about masking and hiding and working to blend in with the dominant culture without standing out. Part of the show's humanity was the characters wishing to go against the narrative that they needed to hide and to live loud and proud and inspire others to do the same.

It would have been interesting to see each of the sensates on blockers learning to act in ways their cluster would without being able to let them take control of their body. Show that the integration of the system is not a matter of separate parts in their own boxes but a cluster that is fully connected and capable of sharing their sole life.

To go back to my discussion on functional multiplicity, the concept of being able to share memories and skills is emphasized as a part of both integration and fusion models.

Sharing roles, responsibilities or tasks also enables other parts to help the System’s successful functioning in the outside world. Then, these parts can grow and mature individually. It also gives the System the opportunity to feel first-hand appreciation for what parts have done and contributed to the System’s survival and success, as well as better understanding of what it takes to keep the System functioning well today. (Got Parts? - ATW)

We are all in this together.

A beautiful thing that the show displays outside of the core cluster is the radical empathy and acceptance that exist within the side characters.

In the final episode of the show Wolfgang's surrogate brother and only true family Felix arrives to the help the cluster Capheus rushes over to him and embraces him exclaiming "MY BROTHER, FELIX!" and laughing with joy. This was Capheus' first time meeting Felix but the empathetic connection travels between them.

The same connection causes Kala's love for her husband to be felt by Wolfgang and allow the three of them to engage in a polyamorous relationship. The final orgy scene of the show literally climaxes with Kala's non-psychic husband exclaiming "My god, I didn't think such things were possible" after a threesome with his wife and Wolfgang who share the same love for him. This is the very last line of the show.

In a dissociative system conflict can breed between parts that are not integrated when their needs, desires and drives are not in alignment.

To give an example from our own life, Wynn is a part that is capable of turning off our empathy. When she perceives a threat to us from the idea of someone emotionally manipulating us (a parent trying to shame/guilt us into ceding to their demands or a partner threatening suicide) she will lock out the rest of the system who may be swayed and force us to act with hostility and coldness. More than once this has ended with us in further danger or emotional turmoil and it leads other parts to over compensate to try and "fix" the damage done when we were "emotionally compromised" by the part acting in our interests of survival over the harmony of the system and our relationships. Especially because the dangerous situations that necessitated her existence are not part of our present and her reactions may no longer be appropriate.

This kind of divide is natural in a dissociative system early in their healing journey.

The range of emotional experience, including both positive (e.g., joy, love) and negative (e.g., anger, fear, grief) affects, plays a vital role in human adaptation by promoting closeness in relationships. Relational distortions result when emotions repeatedly fail to achieve their purpose, when they are persistently activated, or when their expression is blocked or punished. Distortions in emotional regulation (and associated defensive distortions of behavior) refl ect distortions in care (Bowlby, 1969/1982) that manifest as dysynchronies between caregiving behavior and child emotional experience and needs (Sameroff & Emde, 1989) [...] A lasting split between self-preservation and integrative self-regulation leads to a vicious cycle. Extreme affective states become infused into the person’s selfand other-representations (“bad objects,” Benatar, 2003), producing disorganized and unstable mental representations, which further destabilize and fragment affect, perception, and behavior. Thus, dissociation results when extreme stressors necessitate a lasting split of the integrated relationship between self-preservation and selfregulation. (Dissociation and Dissociative Disorders, DSM-V and Beyond - Paul F Dell)

But towards the end of therapy parts, even when activated, are able to act in a way that benefits the stability of the shared life, preventing further dissociation and division between parts.

It is when one part, who wants to deny our condition to prevent thinking about our trauma, accepts that our multiple nature is integral to who we are and how one of our closest relationships function and in accepting this allows for us to carve spaces in our life to exist as a system. To take off the mask. To stop hiding.

To march and state boldly I Am Also A We.

There are times where we worry about using the term "Plural". We view our condition through a lens of psychopathology and constantly try to justify our existence through reading psychology textbooks and working with our therapist and constantly justifying.

We play by the rule books written for us and about us but not by us. Not by others like us. Well... mostly.

One of the quoted books in this essay is from Jamie Marich who is openly a diagnosed dissociative system. Her book is written from an insiders perspective there to promote love and acceptance. I selected her quote at the top of this post with care. She does get it. Got Parts? Is also written by collaborators with DID sharing lived experience.

There are so many things which divide us as people who experience plurality. There is syscourse raging in Tumblr inboxes Just Asking Questions about whether a person should be diagnosed to openly present as a system, there is fakeclaiming trying to witch hunt those who really have a CDD and those who are "roleplaying", the tone policing in support communities that admonish anyone who glorifies or fetishizes that which is a hard to live with disorder...

Over the years we internalized many of these narratives ourselves. We lived in fear of scrutiny, worried for the day we were exposed as Not Traumatized Enough, Not Performing Our Disability Correctly, Not Divided Enough or a number of other accusations.

We still are. It's terrifying to think that at any point someone could just deny all of our truth and no amount of paperwork, testimony or evidence would be able to make us any more legitimate than we already are.

In some regards we shouldn't be proud of being who and what we are. The fact that there is always going to be a part of us stuck in London reliving the worst experiences of our life is not a source of pride.

But we survived.

We survived. We kept one another alive. The part that needed to be an adult when we were a child kept us safe. The part that needed to seal off our heart kept us safe. The part that kept our emotions alive kept us safe. The part that pretended to be what our abuser wanted us to be kept us safe... and yes. The part that handled erotic concepts kept us safe.

We survived and we protected one another and we are the only Family who have been here the whole time. Experienced everything. Shared in all the pleasures and all the joys. We survived. And we will continue to... but not we're not surviving anymore. We're living. And we choose to live together. We choose to be 5 and 1. We are an I.

I am proud of that and this show helped us feel just a little bit more confident in saying that outloud. We are plural... and there is no shame in that. None at all.

Forgive me for the less than stellar work on this one. This essay was more a vehicle to talk about positive integration and use the show as a framing device for the topic. Plus I just wanted to be a bit Plural Pride because the show made a compelling argument as to why I should be.

The promised Act 6 of In Stars and Time essay and the Umineko follow-up essay are both in the research phase. Act 6 of ISaT is looking at characters who share a common history and I want to make sure I have some good examples without treading on other creators I respect's toes and the Umineko follow-up requires replaying all of Chapter 7 of that game and it's a long one.

Media, Myself and I is a series of Tumblr Essays for positive depictions of dissociative disorders.

Other essays include:

Time Loops and Dissociation (In Stars and Time) A History of Murder Alters Discworld and Plurality Incidental, intentional and accidental representation Gender, Dissociation and Clinical Stigma in The Third Person Recontextualized Memories in Umineko Derealization in Night in the Woods and Metal Gear Solid The Dangers of Hypnotic Personality Play in Penlight System Origins in The Incredible Hulk Relationships with Systems in The Incredible Hulk The Healing Journey in Mr. Robot

#dawn posting #sense8 #did #dissociative identity disorder #plurality #media myself and I #watch me post my trauma in public #cluster fuck

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jeniffercheck · 2 months

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red side of the moon

shivlina oneshot: canon divergence, shiv is sent to shanghai on the ceo tract and karolina is sent with as her handler. set in some combination of s1 & s2. no CWs, just good old rollercoaster of romance xx

words: 10k

read here or on ao3

A huge opportunity.

Karolina’s been repeating it to herself relentlessly, filling her head with those three simple words at every possible moment—scribbling them into the margins of notepads during meetings where she’s effectively useless, carving them into the steam coating her bathroom mirror on the mornings where she feels the dreaded thrum of regret pulse at her fingertips, tracing invisible letters across her thighs as her driver takes to her to and from the office—if for any reason than to stop herself from thinking any harder about it. It is a huge opportunity, and a good one at that. At least, that’s what Gerri had said.

It’s a test, Karolina. Pass it, and you’re well on your way.

She remembers asking Gerri why she had to pass a test like this at all, what part of her worth at a company like Waystar had anything to do with chasing Logan’s children around the world, couldn’t recall when in her nearly-two-decades of professional experience a promotion ever involved playdates with her CEO’s daughter, but she realizes now that those had been the wrong questions entirely. She should’ve asked Gerri if Waystar was worth it.

Currently, it seems entirely not worth it.

“How are we looking?” Shiv asks, briskly walking toward a packed conference room. Karolina trudges behind her, dodging random employees and underlings she’ll never learn the names of, and checks Shiv’s schedule on her phone. It’s a job that should be Sarah’s, but something about the Harvard Veritones and a summer showcase involving far too many shots in the Shanghai Pudong International Airport means that Sarah’s visa was denied, which also means that the roles are so muddied now that Karolina isn’t quite sure what her job is at all. Manager of Shiv Roy? Professional Adult Babysitter? Senior Grooming Advisor?

(I don’t quite understand what my role would be over there, sire,” she’d said, nervous hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“You’ll mold her, Karolina,” Logan said. “She needs guidance from someone who understands. You get it, don’t you? She needs a serious person.”)

“Two meetings left—and we have a tentative dinner with a tech reporter who has a layover in the city,” Karolina says.

“Who?”

“Freelancer,” Karolina says. “He has a history with a few A-List publications, but recent patterns suggest he’s likely looking to submit to Wall Street or The Post.”

“What’s his angle?” Shiv asks.

“Hard to say right now, but my best guess?”

Shiv pauses as they reach the door, her hand hovering over the handle.

“How America’s Politico Sweetheart has anything to do with Waystar’s recent tech grabs in China.”

“Prep some key messaging,” Shiv says. “Tell him I won’t be answering any questions about Kendall or Vaulter.”

“Okay,” Karolina says, glancing into the conference room. “You remember our goal for this meeting?”

Shiv winks. “Got my keys and wallet, too.”

—

“So,” Karolina said, cigarette burning loosely in her hand. She wasn’t expecting to find Shiv out here, hiding from the party like a wallflower. “Are the rumors true?”

“What rumors?”

“You know,” Karolina said. “The name on the front of the building. It’s gonna be yours.”

Shiv froze then, but there was a wistful look she couldn’t hide, a satisfied quirk of her lips and an all-too nonchalant of a shrug that all but confirmed it. He chose her.

“I’m just…observing,” Shiv said. “Getting to know the company.”

“Sure. Observing,” Karolina said. “Do you also like to sit at construction sites and watch concrete dry?”

“What, is your job not exciting enough? You need extra drama?” Shiv asked. “I’m sure Kendall will have you in a bind bright and early on Monday morning. What was it this time? Vape fluid?”

Karolina brought the cigarette to her lips. She couldn’t help but laugh as Shiv’s eyes turned toward her, bright.

“And candy.”

—

Karolina’s already entered the room by the time she realizes she shouldn’t have, news of the freelancer canceling their dinner sitting on the edge of her tongue as Shiv’s voice reverberates through their makeshift conference-room-turned-battle-station.

“This is ridiculous,” Shiv says, pacing in front of the large windows showcasing the city’s nightcap, phone glued to her ear. “You know that’s not it, Tom.” Tom. “Fine, yeah, I’ll just—keep rearranging deck chairs on the fucking Titanic, I guess.” Silence. “That is what I’m fucking doing.”

It’s then that Karolina makes her move, pulling open the door as if she’s just entered, louder this time, so that Shiv has no reason not to notice. She does, a sly glance in Karolina’s direction and Karolina walks over to her laptop still open on the table. She checks the time as she sits down. 6pm, which means it’s a heart 6am in Manhattan. If she remembers correctly, which she most certainly does, Tom has a division sync in just two hours. Regret threatens her once again, but not for any crucial matter—she just really wishes she could’ve seen the shit show that would’ve been Tom’s first few weeks of reign over ATN.

“Whatever, I have to go,” Shiv says. “Yeah. Love you.”

Karolina busies herself on her laptop as Shiv hangs up. It’s not like she has as much work as she wishes she did, it’s, so far, all felt like a colossal waste of both her time and talent, but she lets her fingers do her bidding before she gets too far ahead of herself. A huge opportunity. Huge.

Shiv sits down in her spot, only a few seats away, and they settle into a comfortable silence. It’s like this most days, working in quiet unless there’s a meeting to prep for, responding to email chains while five feet away from one another, Shiv sending lists of prospective investors and projects and Karolina sending page-long lists back of why it would be a terrible idea for Waystar to get involved with any of those companies.

It’s only when Karolina stops fake-typing that she realizes Shiv isn’t typing at all, and she looks over, Shiv lost in thought as she stares at her computer screen. Karolina’s done a lot of shit that’s been far above her pay grade the last few weeks, and she doesn’t think adding emotional labor to the list is going to help her growing resentment at all, but she knows firsthand how objectively awful this entire endeavor has been, so she humors Shiv.

“Are contactless computers our next great investment?” she asks. It’s a second before Shiv realizes she’s being spoken to, looking at Karolina with a tired kind of confusion.

“I just didn’t know if you were testing out some kind of eye-tracking software,” Karolina goes on. “I mean, knowing Waystar’s customer base, I don’t really think spyware is the direction to go in, but—what do I know?”

Shiv leans back in her chair and crosses her arms, glaringly unamused. She stares at Karolina for what feels like an eternity and then speaks, her question begging with sincerity.

“Do you think this is all bullshit?”

Karolina is briefly stunned, unused to Shiv speaking so plainly to her. Much to Karolina’s surprise, in the four months they’ve been working together it’s stayed strictly professional. Small talk, business talk, even the occasional serious talk—because that’s what Karolina’s there for, right?—but never real talk. And this, is real. It’s not Shiv asking Karolina to give the answer she wants to hear; she’s asking Karolina to give the answer that Karolina believes to be true. She’s asking if it’s worth it. She doesn’t have the heart to tell Shiv that that’s something she doesn’t quite know just yet, but she does know one thing.

“I think that it better not be.”

Because she’s given up things for her career before, weekends, bachelorette parties, first dates—dating—but this is a lot. Chasing some nepo-baby to China just because her dad dangled the proposition of a promotion in front of her was a big risk, and she’s not about to let it amount to nothing. Shiv’s jaw clenches then, at nobody in particular, and she looks up at Karolina, serious.

“Roman’s in the management training program,” she says. Karolina can’t help but interpret a small amount of worry in Shiv’s tone, a new emotion from the youngest Roy that she hadn’t yet discovered could be shown. Shiv says just as much then, a tired hand running through her hair. “Should I be concerned?”

Shiv looks at her like Karolina’s got all the answers in the world, and despite the fact that part of Karolina’s need-to-know briefing prior to coming to Shanghai was centered around Shiv entering the CEO tract, she still couldn’t guess Logan Roy’s plan of action with a loaded gun pointed to her head. All she knows is what’s in front of her. The facts.

“Roman’s never been to Shanghai,” she reasons.

“But he’s been to LA.”

“And then he was fired.”

“And now, he’s COO,” Shiv says. “And they just shipped him off to Management Training.”

“Look, Management Training is largely for on-the-ground suits who will never make it past regional management,” Karolina says. She should know, she led the campaign research. “It’s where executives go to die, Shiv.”

Still, it’s not enough to satisfy Shiv.

“Maybe for executives who don’t have a name on the building.”

She wonders if this simmering insecurity is something she’s missed, or if it’s a new development in the world of Shiv Roy. She’d always imagined there was some. She could always see it with Kendall, the validation seeking, the overbearing need to be involved, to have his voice heard—but Shiv, she’d always been the wild card. The prodigal daughter, the one who got away and built something for herself. She seemed sure. Even when Karolina had stepped down and made her way to the Shanghai office for the first time, Shiv hadn’t let a shred of her nerves show, but now—Karolina thinks she isn’t the only person who’s tired.

“He doesn’t have anything over you,” Karolina says.

“He has Gerri,” Shiv argues. “A fucking steel-rod in the Old Guard, and he has her wrapped around his fucking spiny finger. He has Gerri.”

“And you have me,” Karolina blurts it before she can stop herself.

Shiv gives her a once over, as if she hadn’t considered Karolina as anything of value yet. It’s funny, she’s probably no less of a pawn to Shiv than Shiv is to her, only Shiv hadn’t realized the stakes were even, didn’t know that the goalposts were shared.

“And what are you exactly?” Shiv asks.

“I’m your golden ticket,” Karolina says, not missing a beat.

Shiv’s lip quirks. “How’s that?”

Karolina leans forward. “Because, whether I like it or not, my career hinges on yours,” she says. “And truthfully, Shiv, I’m not wasting a year in Shanghai without getting my dues.”

—

It’s at night, when Karolina misses home the most.

The cracked asphalt and yellow cabs, college students littering her street with the butts of stale Newport Reds as their two-in-the-morning laughter echoes through her thin front windows on their way to the subway line that takes them back downtown, the subway, going to sleep knowing she’ll wake up and get to stop by her favorite cafe on the way to the office. She thinks she’s almost forgotten the smell of cigarettes mixed with some twenty-one-year-old’s lavender oat milk latte, not that she’d thought to savor it anyway. Stopping to smell the roses only works if you have time to notice there are any roses at all.

They left for China right after the New Year. She remembers her holiday bonus and an ultimatum. She doesn’t recall any roses.

—

“Media day?” Shiv asks, tense as her arms stiffly on the back of a chair in the conference room. Karolina looks up at her from across the table. “I thought you said this would blow over.”

This, also known as “The Shiv in Shanghai: America’s Politico Sweetheart and Her Grab for the Crown,” published in the New York Mag by the very reporter who’d skipped out on their planned dinner. It’s a lengthy think piece on the future of Waystar and the impending battle of the heirs, and it had been a nightmare to deal with twelve hours ahead of New York. Karolina thrums her fingers along the wood, trying to come up with the simplest explanation of their current predicament.

It’s simple, in her mind: the Roy siblings are cash cows for the American news machine, and even the smallest scent of a fight for the throne is much too intriguing to let pass without making it as big of a deal as possible. Unfortunately, Shiv entering Waystar’s payroll is a big deal, a very large, unprecedented, huge deal.

(“Say, Karolina,” Logan folded his arms across his desk. “Shiv’s in Shanghai, what’s our angle?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to make Kendall look unfit—not when he’s still largely a face of the company,” Karolina said. “Bridging the gap, maybe. The youngest Roy bringing a new perspective to Waystar’s tech wing. It’s broad. Prepping for the future. Maybe we bring her…liberal politics, into it. Western expansion in the Asian market. Growth.”)

“Things are moving faster than we’d initially wanted, yes,” Karolina says, treading lightly. “But, it’s important that we’re the ones controlling the narrative surrounding your introduction into the company. Not caricature drawings on Page 6.”

“And, what—inviting a bunch of reporters into our international offices is supposed to show them that I’m just on some field trip? Shaking hands and making nice for shits and giggles?”

“If you want to put it that way, sure,” Karolina says, looking at her laptop. “It’s just what we need them to believe. That you’re an addition to the company’s roster. Not anyone’s replacement.”

“For the time being.”

“What?” Karolina’s eyes shoot back to Shiv.

“At a certain point, they’re gonna know,” Shiv argues. “We’re dancing around the inevitable here.”

“Shiv, your father—”

“Isn’t here,” she says. “He sent me off to China with a half-baked plan and a watchdog, and I’m just supposed to follow along?”

“It’s not half-baked, Shiv, it’s procedure.”

“But, you are a watchdog, then?” Shiv asks, a smug smile encroaching on her face.

Karolina exhales lightly. She’s unsure if the argument would be worth it at all, unsure if there even is anything to argue at all. The leash is taut on Karolina; she either succeeds, or she’s sent back to the pound.

“If that’s how you want to put it, then sure,” Karolina says. “I’m your personal watchdog. And right now, I’m watching you waste an entire prep slot complaining about an opportunity to show your father exactly why you should be CEO.”

Shiv’s posture stiffens, and Karolina knows she’s got her right back where she wants her. Karolina may be on a tight leash, but she needs to keep Shiv on an even tighter one.

“Fine, media day,” Shiv huffs, sitting down. “Lay it on me.”

—

Shiv is brilliant.

She’s warm smiles and schmoozes, floating through the office like she owns it—Karolina wonders if that helps, knowing in some way that she actually does—and it’s relieving, to know that beyond the complaints, beyond the bitterness behind closed doors and the pushback that feels all too personal at times, Shiv has been listening to her.

Karolina’s staying late, wrapping up a report on all of the follow-ups she’ll need to do after the weekend when Shiv enters the conference room, silently placing a paper coffee cup next to Karolina’s laptop as she sits down next to her.

“Do you ever leave this room?” Shiv asks, hands wrapped around her own cup of coffee.

“They still haven’t found an office for me to take over, so…” she drifts off, twisting the coffee cup around to look at the logo. It’s someplace down the street that they stop at occasionally on their way back from off-campus meetings. She quirks an eyebrow at Shiv as she picks it up.

“I made one of the IT guys go get them,” Shiv admits, and Karolina nods. Sounds right. “Sorry if it’s not hot enough, you were on a phone call earlier and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“It was Gerri,” Karolina offers. She sips the coffee, knowing she probably shouldn’t be having any caffeine this late in the evening, but her sleep schedule’s never been one to boast about, and, anyway, it could do her some good to get her work done, now that she actually has some to do.

“Yeah?” Shiv asks. “How’s the old Fairy Godmother?”

Which, not good. There are rumblings of a major leak surrounding cruises, not to mention Kendall’s pause from reality still causing blowback in the press, and Roman, well—Karolina’s just lucky she’s with Shiv.

“We were just catching up,” she says. “Hard to stay in touch when we’re twelve hours ahead.”

“Tell me about it,” Shiv sighs. “Tom and I are lucky if we get a conversation in every few days.”

“What does he think about all of this?” Karolina asks, then. She says it absentmindedly, like she would about the weather or a new restaurant, and maybe she is prodding, poking her head into things that don’t concern her, itching for a sense of normalcy within the throes of the upheaval of her life with the source of said upheaval as her cannon fodder, but Shiv doesn’t seem to back an eye. Maybe she’s searching for something normal, too.

“He’ll come around,” Shiv says, and it’s an admission of sorts, that Tom isn’t fully on board with the change.

“To which part?”

“Which part?” Shiv asks.

“The part where he’s not going to be CEO, or the part where you’re going to be.”

Shiv pauses, a dilemma she’s obviously thought of before by the way she bites the inside of her cheek. How could she not? Everyone knows Tom’s endgame. When Karolina read the presser for their wedding announcement she was surprised the venue was listed as Eastnor Castle and not One World Trade Center.

“I think…” Shiv trails off, ultimately shaking her head. “It’s too early for those kinds of conversations. Dad, he’s unpredictable.”

Something snaps in Karolina at the noncommittal statement. Like this is all just some side quest, a will-they-won’t-they between Shiv and the C-Suite.

“Shiv,” Karolina says, and Shiv’s eyes snap to hers. “Do you want this?”

Because she has to know. Karolina is wasting time and credibility if Shiv isn’t all in. Shiv hesitates, and Karolina can see the grips of the voices in her head, the Dads and the Toms and the Kendalls, and Karolina doesn’t want their satiation. Doesn’t want the Politico Sweetheart’s centrist neutrality. She wants honesty.

“You,” she adds. “Not them.”

Shiv’s brow furrows, a determined little movement that Karolina’s noticed only appears when things get serious. Real.

“I do,” Shiv says.

“Okay,” Karolina says, like an affirmation. I believe you. “Thanks for the coffee.”

She turns back to her laptop, but Shiv’s voice rings out again.

“Hey,” she says. “I mean—what’s in this for you? Being here.”

“It’s my job, Shiv,” Karolina says.

“Last time I checked, Waystar PR took place halfway across the globe. This couldn’t have been what you thought you were signing up for.”

It’s not, but there are only three words Karolina can think of. Well—the other three.

“It’s a test,” she says. “For you, and for me.”

Shiv’s face contorts in confusion.

“How is this a test for you?”

(“Now, Karolina. We’ll see how things fair over there, and if you’re successful, well. We can talk about what that means for you.”)

“You’re my test, Shiv,” Karolina says. “Your image, your progress. It’s on me.”

“So, I am just a puppet,” Shiv says. “Your puppet.”

“You’re not,” Karolina says. She doesn’t say what she really thinks—that Shiv is a type of untamable beast. That she’ll do her best to shape and mold, but to what avail, she’s not so sure. “This is mutually beneficial. You fail, I fail.”

Shiv mulls it over, crosses her arms.

“And what happens if you fail?”

Karolina settles back into her chair.

“I don’t fail.”

—

Karolina would be lying if she said she didn’t notice the shift happen.

It’s subtle in the way something drastic can only be, like one night you go to sleep in New York and the next you’re in Shanghai. One night you can’t even figure out the remote control to the television and the next you’re rehashing three seasons worth of Chinese reality show drama into your weekly email to Gerri. One night, your apartment has never even seen another person, and the next, Shiv Roy is inside of it, two glasses of wine deep, sitting on your couch and talking like you’ve been friends for years.

“C’mon, you and Gerri have never done anything?”

It’s most likely the wine when Karolina almost blurts that Gerri has been far too busy with Shiv’s brother to ever notice her, but she keeps her composure, laughing slightly as she puts her glass down.

“I said you could ask one personal question, and this is what you’re stuck on?”

“Fine,” Shiv says. “Can I have a redo?”

“One,” Karolina says. “So ask wisely.”

She knows in the morning she’ll regret offering, thinks what was supposed to be a simple prep session for an on-screen interview later in the week turned into one episode of Karolina’s newest reality show binge, which then turned into one glass of wine, which turned into two, which led her here. Invasive probing into her personal life by none other than Shiv Roy.

“Aside from Gerri, anyone waiting for you at home?”

Karolina rolls her eyes at the added innuendo, but she finds it difficult to stay annoyed at the satisfied look Shiv throws her way, a realization that rolls around nervously in the pit of her stomach.

“No,” Karolina says, grasping onto her composure. “Married to the job, I guess.”

She doesn’t realize how sad it is until after she’s said it, the loneliness that hangs in the air in the aftermath of her words. Shiv, to her credit, doesn’t give away whether she’s surprised or not, only a lingering curiosity in the following quiet.

“The job,” Shiv repeats, slowly. “So. Why PR?”

Karolina shrugs, grateful for Shiv’s swift change in subjects.

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“Sure—” Shiv says, notably not disagreeing, “But what do you like about it?”

“I don’t know,” Karolina says, picking her glass back up. “I guess…I like problem solving. Crafting a narrative, watching the pieces fall into place.”

“Control?”

Shiv eyes her, the intensity of her gaze growing, and Karolina’s nerves return, unsure of Shiv’s endgame.

“Storytelling,” Karolina says. Shiv nods, seemingly satisfied enough, and she takes a sip of her wine.

“What’s my story?” she asks.

“You tell me.”

“No, come on,” Shiv says. “What narrative have you crafted for the infamous Siobhan Roy?”

Karolina sighs. She doesn’t know why she’s stalling. She’s worked on this relentlessly, time-stamped and color-coded, refined, and then refined again. Sleepless nights spent on this very couch, crafting the journey.

“You’re the future,” Karolina says. “Optimism, growth. A new era for Waystar with a sense of safety under the same Roy name.”

It loses some of its magic as she says it out loud, as if the entirety of the endeavor is only possible as long as it’s never spoken into existence, as long as nobody knows that the plan is real enough to be taken away. Shiv seems to notice as much, lightening up the mood with yet another thorn jammed into Karolina’s side.

“But I’m a registered Democrat,” Shiv says. “I don’t think shareholders want a filthy liberal leading their company.”

“Your husband is a registered Republican,” Karolina says. “You’re amenable to alternative viewpoints.”

Shiv laughs.

“What?”

“Tom’s a registered Democrat.”

“He—what?”

Shiv must be entertained by Karolina’s horror, because the shit-eating grin won’t leave her face as she continues. “He named his dog after Walter Mondale,” she says through a new fit of giggles. “How’s the strategy now?”

Karolina closes her eyes and rubs a hand across her face, mumbling to herself, “Fucking—Walter Mondale?”

“Relax.” Karolina opens her eyes as Shiv’s hand lightly hits her knee. “He’s voted Republican since 2008.”

Despite this, Karolina still makes a mental note to carve out some time to redraft phase four of Shiv’s ascension to account for her Nazi-elbow-rubbing husband apparently being a registered Democrat. Shiv’s laughter dies down slowly, and just as she’s about to speak again, her phone dings, her smile faltering with a light, Shit, as she reads whatever’s on the screen.

“Everything okay?” Karolina asks, noting the frown.

“Yeah, sorry,” Shiv says. “Tom—he thought we could try scheduling our phone calls and I missed one.”

“Oh,” Karolina says. “We can call it a night if you need to get back to him.”

“No,” Shiv says, with what seems like, if Karolina didn’t know any better, urgency, and she tosses her phone aside. “No, I mean—the last thing I need from him right now is a lecture.”

“I take it he still hasn’t come around?”

“He’s just—” Shiv cuts herself off, waving her hand around flippantly.

Karolina’s asking before she can stop herself, “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Making excuses for him.”

Maybe it’s another thing that she can blame on the wine when it happens, but her stomach twists slightly as Shiv’s face falls, nerves replaced with something more somber as she notices a familiar tiredness display so clearly across Shiv’s features.

“He’s worked hard for it,” Shiv says. “We had a plan.”

“So have you. So do we.”

Shiv looks at her unsure.

“You can feel guilty,” Karolina continues, “but it doesn’t have to be the only thing that you feel.”

Shiv breaks the eye contact, “I know, I know.” She pauses as her gaze falls on the television. “You know, you weren’t this complimentary in the beginning.”

Karolina’s surprised by the assertion. She’d had been so caught up observing Shiv, she never thought that Shiv would be observing her right back.

“I was guarded, sure,” Karolina says. “This whole thing, I mean—I was weary.”

“Weren’t sure that the spoiled-runt of the Roy clan had it in her?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re the runt.”

“Humor me,” Shiv says, though nothing currently feels warranting of a joke.

“I just didn’t want this to be a waste of my time,” Karolina admits. “Packing up and leaving for a new country without a clear result—it felt risky.”

(She’d done that once already, young and wide-eyed, suddenly stuck in a world that didn’t want her. It taught her how to adapt, sure, but she thinks somewhere inside of her it’s always left a gap. No place ever truly feels like home, no building or title or role. New York had become that—as much as it could be, and Waystar, well, it’s still a gamble.)

“And now that you’re here, four months into it?” Shiv asks.

“It feels less risky.” Risky all the same, but the payout is starting to look more likely.

“What changed?” Shiv asks.

There’s only one reasonable answer, one honest answer that she pretends to mull over. She keeps her eyes downcast as she says it, doesn’t need to look up to feel the intensity of the gaze that she knows is on her.

“You.”

—

Shiv starts to show more of herself, letting Karolina craft the story with all of the pieces, not just the ones that she wants people to see.

“Are you sure about this?” Shiv asks, smoothing her blazer.

“You’re ready,” Karolina says from behind, locking eyes through the mirror. “It’s a puff piece, nothing major.”

“It’s early.”

“It’s five months, Shiv.”

“You said six.”

It’s strange, being allowed to see Shiv like this, nervous and fussy, worried about making an impression.

“I said the timeline moved up,” Karolina reminds her. Shiv turns around, huffing out a deep breath.

“Can we go over everything one more time?”

“No,” Karolina says. “I want you to be organic, not rehearsed. You know this. It’s your life, Shiv. We’re having lunch with a reporter, and you’re just going to talk. You’ve done this before.”

“This one feels different,” Shiv says.

“Because you know what’s at stake,” Karolina says. “The reporter doesn’t.”

Shiv nods, taking another deep breath, and Karolina’s doing it before she realizes, her hand reaching up slightly to smooth out a stray strand of silky-red hair. Shiv just straightens her shoulders.

“I’ll be right there beside you,” Karolina assures her. “Just—enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it,” Shiv repeats to herself.

By the time they’re with the reporter, it’s as if Karolina isn’t even there at all.

—

“You know that’s not true.”

They’re in the car, speeding down the highway on their way to tour a potential partnering facility. It’s mostly for the press—shaking hands with VPs and laughing in front of the cameras with opposing executives. Karolina’s supposed to be giving Shiv the rundown on each of the high-ups they’ll be meeting with, but Shiv’s been on the phone with Tom the entire ride, leaving Karolina no choice but to eavesdrop as the conversation slowly devolves into an argument, Shiv’s agitated tone and Tom’s agitated voice the only sound filling the back of the car.

“I mean, what,” Shiv says. “Did you think I was just going to get bored and call it quits a couple of months into the job?” Silence. “A year, Tom. Six in Shanghai, and six in Europe, we’ve talked about this.”

(Just three months ago the entire prospect of seven more months of this seemed nauseating. Now, it seems exciting. When there are no meddling voices taking up her valuable prep time.)

“I don’t know, London, Berlin? Does it matter?” Shiv’s silent for longer than expected, and then she laughs, coldly. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in your en-suite at Headquarters getting chauffeured three blocks to work every day. It must be stressful for you.”

Whatever it is that Tom says on the other end must not be good, because it’s enough for Shiv to hang out the phone without another word. Karolina steals a glance in her direction, Shiv’s gaze firmly set out the opposite window.

“Wanna talk about it?” Karolina asks. It’s not her business, not really, but it feels wrong not to offer. Shiv’s silent for a while, Karolina just listening to the drone of the car’s tires speeding down the highway when Shiv does speak.

“Do you really think I can do this?” she asks, teary eyes turning toward Karolina. “Like, actually win the seat?”

Karolina doesn’t even have to think before saying it.

“Yes.” She clutches the papers in her hand. “What did he say to you?”

“It’s not what anyone says to me.” Shiv turns away again. “It’s what they’re not saying.”

“What are they not saying?”

“That they think I can do it.”

Karolina can’t imagine how unbearably lonely it must feel to be going after something so huge and to be made to feel so small for it. The people closest to Shiv are all of her direct competitors. Hell, even her own husband is vying for the very same spot.

“You can, Shiv,” Karolina says. “You can do it.” She does it before she has a chance to stop herself, reaching out to grab Shiv’s hand across the seat. She squeezes it lightly, Shiv’s eyes stuck on the window.

“Yeah,” Shiv breathes out. She squeezes Karolina’s hand back, once, and lets go. “Thanks, Karolina.”

And because she doesn’t want to leave the mood so heavy before sending Shiv off to smile and wave for three hours, “Does Tom really take a car three blocks to work every morning?”

Shiv laughs slightly, and Karolina bites back a small smile at the win.

“He says it’s for safety.”

“From what, the fucking rats?”

—

One meeting.

One meeting is all that’s left and Shiv will have closed her first deal. It’s monumental. Karolina heads to her usual spot in the corner of the conference room, ready to send a play-by-play to Gerri as the proceedings begin, but Shiv stops her.

“Sit here.” Shiv taps the chair next to her. She hadn’t requested Karolina for the meetings earlier that day, or earlier that week, or, ever, but then she sees the jerky pen and the stiff posture and Karolina realizes—Shiv is nervous. She’s nervous and she wants Karolina.

So, Karolina sits there diligently. In an attempt of brevity, she slides a post-it in Shiv’s direction right before the acquisition target walks in, a swirly enjoy it in ballpoint-black that Shiv palms with a small smile before anyone else can see it. When it begins, Karolina takes notes, offers calm, affirming nods when Shiv says something, and glances in her direction. It’s going well. Until the client gets cold feet. Karolina holds her breath.

We’re just not sure we’re ready for this kind of move. We have to think about our shareholders.

But Shiv is quick on her feet.

“Forget acquisitions for just a moment,” she says. Eyes around the table look nervous as soon as the word forget tumbled out of her mouth, but she keeps going. “With our partnership, well—the integrations we can offer through our movie studios and amusement parks alone bring impressions into the millions. That’s not even factoring in our cruise lines and ATN—I mean, we get one actor on your app and the hits will be rolling in. Profits doubled within the year.”

And it’s missing something, but Shiv already knows that. She looks down at the papers in front of her. Frowns.

“Of course, with losses in the US market for five quarters straight, that’s not exactly difficult to achieve. Truthfully, if we’re talking Hollywood, that’s about as good as dead.”

(Karolina thinks she’ll savor that look forever, the gawking eyes of the men across from her as the target realized that Shiv backed them into an inescapable corner. Karolina knows the intensity of that gaze, has to wonder if she herself is moving somewhere she’ll never get out. Can’t decide if escaping is something she’d even want to do.)

—

They’re not late yet.

In ten minutes they’ll be five minutes away from being late, and it’s Karolina’s job to count, so she’s counting, but they’re not late yet. She knocks on the green room door again. No answer.

“Shiv?” she calls out, her voice met with silence. She knows Shiv’s in there. It’s the last place she’s checking and Shiv wouldn’t have just left. She tugs on the handle, and it’s unlocked. Because why shouldn’t that be the very first thing she checks?

She opens the door slowly, unsure of what could possibly be holding Shiv up other than some sort of wardrobe malfunction, but what she finds isn’t anything she had in mind. Shiv is sitting in silence, staring at herself in the mirror. Her gaze is steeled, and Karolina can see large inhales and exhales as her chest rises and falls. She steps into the room and closes the door.

“What do you want?” Shiv asks.

Karolina looks into the mirror, finding an unflinching sort of anger in Shiv’s eyes.

“They need you in the studio.”

Shiv’s first interview with a live audience. Celebrating her win. But why does it feel like there’s nothing to celebrate?

“I need a second,” Shiv says, and Karolina nods, a soft, Okay, escaping her lips.

Karolina busies herself on her phone, refreshing her email about twenty different times. This trip has been the driest her inbox has been in years. She’d have almost called it a sabbatical if it weren’t for—

“What do you normally say to Kendall?” Shiv’s voice pipes up. “When you used to prep him, what did you tell him?”

Karolina looks up again, Shiv’s eyes softer, now. Karolina isn’t sure what exactly Shiv’s getting at, what she hopes to achieve from Karolina’s response, but Karolina says it nonetheless.

“To remember what I told him.”

“Did he?”

Karolina pauses and locks her phone. She takes a tentative step closer. “Not usually.”

“Do you think I—” Shiv’s voice catches, and she has to take another deep breath. “You always tell me to—”

“Enjoy it,” Karolina finishes before her.

Shiv continues to stare straight ahead.

“This place fucking sucks.”

“I know it does,” Karolina says quietly.

Shiv looks down then, one deep breath, and then she’s back, shaking off her tears, steadying her lungs. She’d fool Karolina if she didn’t know her so well, couldn’t see the slight shake in her hands as clamoring fingers rub roughly across her wedding ring before pulling off forcefully. She stands and drops it onto the vanity in front of her, fixing her hair one last time in the mirror.

“Send that back,” Shiv says. “Don’t include a return address.”

Karolina nods, swiping it off the counter. Shiv seems to stand straighter, as if the weight of the ring itself was the very thing dragging her down.

“You ready?” Karolina asks.

“What’s it gonna be today?” Shiv asks.

“Just do what you’re here to do,” Karolina says. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“…and what we really want at Waystar is for the people to enjoy it—to come on this journey with us, so that we might look back on this time as one of growth, of innovation, and of cultivation. To know that we are all the future of the Royco family.”

And Shiv looks directly into the crowd as she says it, enjoy it, and it’s as if she’s staring right at Karolina, piercing her with those eyes, saying her words back to her exactly as they’d practiced, and that feeling returns, right in the pit of Karolina’s stomach and she knows that she’s trapped. That she’s entered the space that she cannot get out of, and that feeling follows her all the way back to the green room until the door is shut and Shiv’s drunk with applause and a few glasses of whiskey and Karolina is cornered, her back against the vanity and Shiv flush against her front.

She can’t remember how they got here. One moment they were laughing on the couch and the next they were touching. One moment Karolina was moving away and the next she was standing still. One moment Shiv was across the room and the next she wasn’t.

“Shiv,” Karolina whispers, lips hovering unbearably close to hers. She can feel every breath Shiv takes, the slight movement as Shiv moves her glass to the vanity. Shiv looks onward, unphased, staring at Karolina as if they’re both exactly where they should be, and it’s a flaw, that gnawing thought that Karolina isn’t so sure where she belongs ever, but she doesn’t have to say anything. Shiv is already searching, already reading between the script that Karolina’s building in her mind.

“Why not?” Shiv asks. As if it’s meant to happen, as if Karolina’s pushing against something that shouldn’t be fought, even though she’s desperately aware that it should be.

“You know why,” she says. Still, she doesn’t move.

“But I don’t care.”

Karolina brings her hands up to Shiv’s shoulders, feels Shiv’s wedding ring dig into her thighs through the loose fabric of her pocket, and then she lightly pushes Shiv away.

“Not now,” she says. “Not like this.”

—

She thinks about it in the moments she shouldn’t, in meetings sitting right across from Shiv, wondering what might’ve happened if she’d said yes. In press interviews, watching the way Shiv’s lips curl around the words that Karolina feeds her, the words Karolina spends hours writing down, meticulously picking them out, imagining just how Shiv is going to say them. She thinks about it at night, imagines those lips on hers as she lays in an empty apartment no more barren than the one back home, and wonders what all of this is worth, what she expects to come out of it.

(“Then when, Karolina?”

The ring, buried deep in her pocket—“Shiv—”)

—

Logan, in all of his spite, chooses Berlin.

“—God forbid he sends me to the country where I have citizenship,” Shiv says. “Or where anyone speaks fucking English.”

Karolina watches Shiv pace back and forth in her living room, hand in her hair and a warm mug of tea propped on her lap. She realizes she’s lost track of what Shiv’s saying when Shiv’s suddenly stopped moving, arm on her hip as she looks at Karolina expectantly.

“What the fuck are you smirking about?”

Karolina bites her lip, not having realized that’s what she was doing.

“He’s sending you to Berlin because business is notoriously more difficult there,” Karolina explains.

(She leaves out that she’d made the same exact complaint to Gerri just hours before Shiv barged through her door.)

“He’s happy with your performance,” Karolina adds, and Shiv stills, her brows furrowing.

“Really?”

Karolina feels it this time as she smiles at the innocence of the question. Really? Like a kid in a toy store, tantrums and all.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he trusts you.”

“Trust is a strong word,” Shiv says, moving toward the couch. “This is another one of his fucking tests, isn’t it?”

“Look who’s finally catching on,” Karolina says, playfully knocking her shoulder.

“Whatever,” Shiv scoffs, getting comfortable on the couch. She leans across Karolina to grab the remote, and the proximity sends a jolt of nerves through her gut. “I’m not leaving the country until we finish this show.”

Later—after the wine’s been poured, and poured, and the television show is complete, they sit in a comfortable silence as Karolina surfs the channels.

“This apartment is a shoebox,” Shiv says, an observation made about four months too late, considering Karolina’s going to be moving out in less than two weeks. Besides the fact that it’s not, but—

“Someone else took the penthouse,” Karolina says pointedly. Shiv ignores the dig, placing a hand over Karolina’s on the remote.

“What’s that?”

Karolina knows this one. “A bunch of celebrities get sent out into a foreign country without their personal assistants,” Karolina says. Shiv quirks an eyebrow. Sound familiar?

“It’s not that hard.”

“Sure,” Karolina says. The couch shakes as Shiv turns fully toward Karolina, resting her head on the back of the couch.

“You know they asked Kendall to be on The Surreal Life?”

Karolina laughs at the reminder. That shit show.

“They pitched a season with Lori Petty and Fabio.”

“Wait—you were there?” Shiv asks, surprised. “How long have you been at this fucking company?”

Too long.

“It was when I had just gotten hired,” Karolina says. “The PR head at the time wanted them to go for it. Thought it could make him more sympathetic to the public if he had some heartfelt moment on national television.”

“So?” Shiv says. “Why didn’t he go all Simple Life?”

Karolina shrugs. “Anyone with half a brain could figure out that Kendall shouldn’t be monitored by cameras twenty-four-seven.”

“Fair enough,” Shiv mumbles.

Karolina looks over then, Shiv still leaning on the couch lazily. Her cheeks are whiskey-flushed, glassy eyes stuck on Karolina.

“What are you doing here?” Shiv asks.

“You’re in my apartment, Shiv.”

“No,” Shiv shakes her head. “Here. In Shanghai.”

“I told you, your father is—”

“Fuck that,” Shiv says softly. “With a resumé like yours, you could go to any firm in the world. Why take a grunt position after fifteen years with a company?”

It strikes her then, that Shiv knows exactly how long Karolina has been working for Waystar. How long she’s been working up to this.

“You know why.”

“Say it,” Shiv says. “I just want to hear it from you.”

Karolina grabs her wine glass, taking a sip before answering.

“Because I want the success story,” she says. Though, no, not quite. “I-I want your success story. To be a part of it.”

Shiv tilts her head.

“It’s more than that.”

Karolina knows it is. Knows the ugly part of her ambition has been rearing its head for the last six months, knows exactly why she’s willing to sacrifice so much for what could possibly garner nothing in return.

“I don’t want the glory, Shiv,” she says. “I just want—”

But how does she explain it? That she’s happiest in the wings? Watching her plans come to fruition, hearing her words coming out of Shiv’s mouth?

“Control?” Shiv asks.

Karolina realizes how close Shiv is now.

“Power?” Shiv tries again, leaning in closer.

“Shiv—” It’s a weak attempt, but Shiv is close now, and Karolina doesn’t think she wants to push her away.

“You’re always telling me to go for the things that I want,” Shiv whispers. “To understand what it is that I deserve.”

Karolina swallows, frozen to her spot. Trapped.

“What do you think you deserve right now?” she asks.

Shiv pauses, inches away from Karolina’s lips. They lock eyes.

“What do you think I deserve?”

Karolina’s fucked.

“Anything you want.”

—

For a brief moment in time, she feels unstoppable.

Whoever said not to mix business with pleasure certainly never experienced what this feels like. Like every time they walk into a crowded room everything slows down, the attention shifts, and the moment is theirs. Every time she locks eyes with Shiv she can feel power surge, like the city only sleeps when they’re no longer in it. Every brush of the fingers in their daily sync, every sly look during a conference call, every stolen kiss behind closed doors because the arschlochs in Berlin actually bothered to give Karolina an office, affirms that she’d made the right choice all of those moons ago.

That worth, should never have been in question at all.

—

It’s vicious, the way things seem to fall apart just when they’re coming together.

“Are you serious?” Shiv asks, voice immediately loud in the privacy of her apartment. “I don’t give a fuck if Kendall’s run off into the fucking Siberian Forest or wherever the fuck they think he’s run off to, I n—you can’t just go, Karolina.”

“Shiv, please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” Karolina says. “It’s a few weeks, tops. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“But you’re mine,” Shiv says. “That’s like, the whole fucking point of you.”

It’s a stark reminder, those few words, how complicated simple things can be. There are two parts of her, clawing at each other. One is Shiv’s. Her coach, glorified babysitter, scriptwriter, pep talker—all things that grew out of a role that hadn’t yet existed, a role neither of them knew she was going to fill. The other half, the more frightening half, is herself. A side to her that she can’t qualify into small little sections. The part of her that would give everything up to follow her heart, to follow Shiv.

“Yeah?” Karolina asks. “I’m just another name on your father’s payroll. Here to do your bidding, right?”

“My keynote is tomorrow, Karolina,” Shiv says, voice growing louder. “You couldn’t have asked Dad for one fucking day?”

And it’s funny, ironic in a sadistic sort of way, maybe, that the side that belongs to Shiv, is the side that forces her to leave.

“You don’t think I did?” Karolina asks. “He said you’d be fine. That if I’ve done my job correctly, you won’t even need me there. Don’t you get it? It’s a test.”

“I don’t give a shit about your stupid tests, Karolina,” Shiv says. “Fail the fucking test!”

Karolina scoffs. “This isn’t a game, Shiv. This is my life. My career.”

“Exactly. So fucking do something for yourself. For once in your life—”

“It’s not just about me,” Karolina snaps. “Leaving is for the both of us. It’s for you. I mean, Christ, Shiv—everything I fucking do it for you. Everything.”

Shiv’s nostrils flare. Maybe it’s something she can’t admit, or something that, if she admits right now, will break her—Karolina is her anchor.

“If you go—” Shiv crosses her arms, her voice rigid. “My father’s payroll, is the last payroll you’ll ever be on at Waystar.”

It’s a make-it-or-break-it, the last ultimatum she might ever receive from a hot-headed Roy, but the choice is clear to her. If she stays, Shiv fails the test. Karolina loses either way. So, she chooses Shiv, whether Shiv wants to believe it or not.

“I guess I’ll start counting my days, then,” Karolina says softly. “Good luck at the keynote. Don’t expect me at the coronation.”

—

She attempts to watch the keynote while on the road, unsure of what rainy-mountainous European countryside they’ve dragged her off to this time, but the service gets spottier the farther out into the hills they go. Instead, she picks up Kendall, cleans up his bloody nose and straightens his blazer, all while pretending she isn’t thinking about Shiv, imagining she’s sending her off for the big presentation— smoothing her hair just one more time, fingers always hovering over places they shouldn’t be; not dressing up Logan’s second eldest like a newly unboxed Lobotomy Ken.

It’s not fun. There’s no joy in it. She feeds him the script and she prays that he remembers, clutches her coffee that’s gone cold and tries not to think about the waning Berlin sun and which version of the closing paragraph Shiv had chosen to go with as thunder claps off in the distance outside the sound studio.

“I saw their plan, and my dad’s plan was better.”

It used to feel good, her words on national television. Her publicity plans making or breaking business deals, her work paying off as if it was worth something, but it’s missing something now.

(Later, under the covers, the keynote in 1080p on her hotel’s high-speed Wi-Fi—her words.

It feels like it did, before she left. As if it meant something when Shiv read her script, because it did. Because they were being said by someone who cares. And when she closes her eyes and listens as the crowd applauds, it feels like that applause is for her. Like she can take pride in this thing that she’d created. Like she passed a test. But when she opens them and sees her face, watches a smile that doesn’t quite stretch as far as she knows it can, the feeling fades. The light dims.

But it’s better this way. That’s what she’ll tell herself.)

—

“It’s bullshit.”

Karolina watches as Roman paces throughout Gerri’s office. He’d barged in without a spare glance, not that she and Gerri were in the middle of any sort of thrilling conversation—not that they’d been in any sort of conversation at all, Karolina perched on the couch in the corner of Gerri’s office as her last remaining salvation from the hordes of new underlings barging through her own door every few minutes. Still, she finds a quiet kind of amusement in the way she goes from slightly unnoticed to forgotten in a split second, a fly on the wall to Roman Roy’s first tantrum of the day. She discreetly marks a tally in her planner. This is the fourth one she’s been privy to this month alone.

“It’s business,” Gerri replies, a tired kind of sternness taking up her voice. Roman doesn’t seem to notice.

“No,” he says, like a child trying to correct their parent. “It’s bullshit. She doesn’t work here, a-and she doesn’t even want to. She’s just—showing her fucking dick.”

Gerri’s eyes move past him towards Karolina, and Karolina looks down. This is Gerri’s mess.

“She’s just coming back to shadow, Roman,” Gerri says, as if that should somehow pacify him. “You and Kendall—”

“Me and Kendall worked for this,” Roman argues. “She’s just walking back in here like she’s owed the place.”

Karolina has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing at the prospect of Roman and Kendall having worked for anything at all. An entire media conglomerate at the tips of their fingers, only shielded from them by the silver plate itself. She also has to stop herself from shouting out in a rage that Shiv has worked for this. Probably more than Roman ever has—

“Roman, if you have a problem—”

“Take it up with the big man,” Roman says, waving her off. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Whatever.”

He turns around then, finally spotting Karolina. She smiles awkwardly over her laptop.

“Oh,” Roman says. “Hey, Karolina.”

“Hi, Roman.”

“Congrats on the new title.”

She’d returned to her own office and a new plaque. Head of Public Relations and Communications. It hadn’t felt like winning.

“Thank you, Roman.”

He stops in front of her, eyebrows scrunched and arms crossed.

“This doesn’t really change anything, right?” Roman says, feigning interest. “You still have to run around and tell all those press people how many sugars Dad takes in his coffee?”

Karolina shifts in her seat. Not that a squeaky twink in a two-piece is any match for her resolve, but it’s a Thursday and her patience is wearing thin, and those press people forgot the correct amount of sugar in Logan’s coffee the day before, so yeah. Maybe he hit a sore spot.

“That’s not really—”

“Now that you have some staying power, could you tell them to stop referring to me as Logan Roy’s middle child?” Roman interrupts. “I’d prefer something more debonaire like, I don’t know, C-O-O?”

“I’ll run it up the chain,” Karolina nods, not letting her smile slip.

He shrugs. “Wait—” It hits. “They sent you to Shanghai. Shiv’s in Management Training now?” He laughs. “I mean, what’s your take here? Aren’t these optics, like, a major fuckhole?”

Fuckholes aside—“It’s an exciting time for the company,” Karolina says. “That’s what I’d say.”

“God, you people are—”

—

Logan dies.

It’s drastically subtle, how she’s learning most things tend to be. One moment she’s dreading traveling halfway across the world, and the next she doesn’t want to leave. One night the only conversation she’s ever had with Shiv Roy was a brief chat on a smoke break and the next she’s leaving Shiv’s wedding ring on Tom’s desk in a plastic sandwich bag. One day Logan is alive, and the next he isn’t.

Pronounced dead in fucking Bergen County. Humiliating, really.

Karolina drafts the statement. Perfunctory, complimentary, assuring—everything the public needs to hear in all this PR nightmare’s glory, and then they don’t need it. She watches Shiv’s statement to the press from her office, the building’s floors more quiet than she’s ever heard them in all fifteen years, and it’s perfect. Everything she wrote and more, with a little bit more heart. It’s a feeling she can’t quite place, not at all like she’s passed the test—maybe someone like she’s failed it—but even still, it’s like her work is done.

It’s how she knows Shiv is going to win the seat.

(She goes to the funeral. It’s her first time seeing Shiv since Berlin. She looks older, like the six months they’d spent apart were enough to change them into entirely new people. Tom’s not at the funeral, but Karolina notices the ring. The ring that she never mailed but brought back with her, and left on Tom’s desk without a return address. She dodges Shiv at the repast, hides behind Gerri’s questioning glares and distracts them all with interim CEO gossip.

And then it's like she was never there at all.)

—

Gerri is interim CEO for one month when Shiv returns, and then it’s hers.

Nobody thinks it’s going to happen. The office buzzes in the days leading up—Kendall this, Shiv that—but then the board convenes. Logan’s last order of business—a merger with some Swedish tech outfit, and Karolina hears the rumors from the room as they come. Shiv just spent the last year crafting relationships with big tech in China. She just did a successful keynote on the future of entertainment tech in Europe. It’s hers. America’s Politico Sweetheart turned Sweet-talker of Tech. The board wants her and her shiny new relationships. She wins.

Karolina goes to the coronation. She doesn’t think she’d be able to live with herself if she didn’t. She watches from the corner as Shiv signs the dotted line, smiles for the photos, shakes hands and earns their blessing. A year ago, she wouldn’t have been ready. She most likely still isn’t ready—who could be—but it’s not the same Shiv that it would’ve been. It’s the confident Shiv. The one who believes in herself. The one who isn’t asking if she can do it anymore. The one who is doing it.

After, she goes back to her office. She thinks about packing her things, abandoning the office that she’d only gotten to use for the better part of a few months. Shiv had said it clearly, and it’s not that simple, legally, but Karolina knew the terms. She knew it could come to this. She starts a “Where I Left Off” document for Hugo—though it pains her to imagine him besting her in the end—or whoever. She hopes it’s some shiny new suit, one of those millennial consulting firms that Shiv doesn’t have to get close to.

Then Shiv shows up at her door. The air is rife with tension.

“You came,” Shiv says, breaking the ice.

Karolina sits stiffly behind her desk. “Would’ve looked bad for you if I didn’t,” she says. “The board should know you have the V-Suite’s support.” Shiv nods. That’s all it was, optics.

“I got your flowers.”

“I thought a call would’ve been unwelcome,” Karolina says. Shiv shrugs. Moves closer. That’s when Karolina notices—

“Where’s your ring?”

Shiv looks down at her hand, as if she’s just noticed it was bare. She hesitates.

“I only put it on for the cameras,” Shiv says.

“Why?” Karolina asks.

“Well—divorce is too dangerous for the brand-new, inexperienced CEO,” Shiv says.

Karolina keeps a still face. Divorce. “Who told you that?”

Shiv shrugs, walks further into the office. “It’s what I imagined you’d say,” Shiv says. “Shareholders need stability right now, Shiv. It’s not like you have to be with him. Just pretend.”

Karolina bites her lip as Shiv mocks her PR voice.

“So that’s it?” she asks.

“I mean, he’s gonna fight it,” Shiv says. “Figure out some way to say I broke the terms of the prenup. Say he sacrificed progress in his career for me to have this. It’ll be public. Ugly.”

“He won’t win,” Karolina says, immediately.

The shift is subtle. Drastic.

“I know.”

Karolina raises her eyebrows.

“He can’t,” Shiv says. Then, she looks nervous. “Not with you on my side.”

Karolina attempts to hide her surprise.

“Thought you were firing me,” Karolina replies.

Shiv shrugs.

“And I thought you weren’t coming,” she says, and Karolina wonders if Shiv understands. Understands that there’s no world where Karolina wouldn’t show up for her. Shiv leans forward in her seat. “So. How’s CCO sound?”

Karolina’s mind blanks.

“Are you serious?”

Shiv leans back, “Sure, yeah, Shiv, I’d love to be Chief Communications Officer of a female-led Fortune 500. Thanks for the offer.”

“I mean—of course, I’d love to,” Karolina’s speechless. “Is this real?”

“It’s my company, Karolina,” Shiv says. “I want you in it. I do.”

Karolina bites back the tears coming to the surface, looking down if only so that she doesn’t have to look at Shiv.

“Shiv—”

“Not now,” she says softly. “Look, I—I owe you a lot.”

Karolina nods, eyes still glued to her desk, waiting to see where this is going to go.

“And—” There’s a movement out of the corner of her eye, Shiv’s hands, playing with the empty space on her ring finger, “There are things I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Things,” Karolina repeats, letting the word move around in her mouth. Karolina looks up again. Shiv is nervous.

“Dinner. This week?”

Karolina wonders if it’s worth it, if saying yes is some sort of destructive self-entrapment that she’d missed the first time around, but Shiv standing here now, in Karolina’s office, both having achieved everything that Karolina bet they would—she can’t find it in herself to say no.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I—that would be nice.”

Shiv nods to herself, that self-satisfied small smirk Karolina hadn’t realized she missed this much until it’s gone once again, and Shiv stands, looking at her watch.

“Transition meetings all day,” she says. “I think you’re scheduled for a few.”

“I am.”

“Great,” Shiv smiles, a small smile. “I’ll see you around then.

There’s more to say, they both know it, but Karolina nods and Shiv heads for the door, pausing as her hand reaches the handle.

“Hey, Karolina?”

Karolina looks up expectantly.

What?”

Shiv smiles, an easy glint in her eye.

“Enjoy it."

#posting a fic to tumblr the morning after posting to ao3 always feels like a walk of shame of sorts #as stated on ao3 this is just moments before disaster (the divorce battle of the century and shiv’s hubris taking the whole ship down)#shivlina #shivlina fic #shiv roy x karolina novotney #duskfalls

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