#i hope you get humbled by a beautiful sunset

[calp0sa]

hello to that person who has been sending me strange and sinister messages for the past month or so. i think it’s important to inform you that i don’t care about things like this. i don’t really know why you would waste your time harassing someone you have never met in your life. i’m not particularly bothered because i’ve grown to be quite proficient in the “ignoring shit that doesn’t matter” department, it is just very disappointing to see someone think this is a reasonable way to go about their life. i am sure there are much better things to do than making little versions of people in your head to get mad at. i understand this mightn’t do a thing to quell your harassment addiction, which is fine, i could not care less. try loving yourself.

TL;DR:

[heartyluv]

Note: DID I SHOCK YOU GUYS?!? COWBOY CALEB?!?!?!? Serious note, this has been in my mind for dayssss and it came out so much better than I imagined. I hope you think so, too. ♡

creds to @/saradika-graphics & @/anitalenia for the dividers/banners!

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut (kindaaaa slow getting there. hope that’s okay), Loss of virginity

Word Count: 4,272 (WOAHHH)

Summary: You and Caleb in the house alone + Unspoken feelings.

Cowboy!Caleb/Reader

When you handed Caleb a cup of your momma’s homemade lemonade, you had to make sure that you didn’t stare for too long.

You didn’t want to get caught eyeing the black tattoos that trailed down his sweaty arms. Or the thin material of his white tank top which clung to his abs that rippled beneath the partially translucent material with every breath he took.

Instead, you simply gave a quick nod to the man you’ve known since you were five years old.

“Thanks, baby,” he tilts up the corner of his mouth, catching his breath. You tried your hardest to ignore the pet name as you waited for him.

He pulled off the gloves he wore to move the horses’ hay around, his hand brushing against yours when he grasped the cool cup. You looked at everything but him as his thick neck worked to drink the refreshing beverage. After he handed it back to you, you didn’t wait a moment longer to scurry out of the stables.

When you first met Caleb, he was much younger and not packed with muscled or decorated with beautiful inked artwork. His family owns a ranch a little ways out from your parent’s small farm and when you all moved down to the pretty countryside, they were the first to pay you a visit.

Caleb teased you all the time like it was nobody’s business, and it was all because the boy refused to admit how much he liked you the longer he stayed in your presence. You were equally shy about your feelings, but you were more of a quiet mouse about it so he thought it was one sided.

The older you two got, the less time you two spent together, but the feelings never faded. Not when you when to college—at least attempted to before dropping out and coming home three years in—and not when Caleb’s name had become a prayer whispered off the lips of several women around town.

You weren’t hurt or phased. As an adult, he had the right to sleep with whoever he wanted to, be with whoever he wanted to, but no matter how many women he’s fucked—it’s been no more than six, but they’re all obsessed with him—Caleb always, always thought of and wanted you. When you left, he thought the best way was to get over you was to force himself to move on.

Despite the rift that naturally formed after you left, you and Caleb would always be a part of each other. That unspoken vow between you two is why he’s here now.

Your father had a small accident, making him unable to take care of his usual duties around the farm for a few weeks. While you and your mother helped pick up the work, assistance was still needed. That’s why when Caleb got word about it, he didn’t hesitate to come by every day from sunrise to sunset, helping to take care of the animals and any work around the property.

He did it all without any payment or expectations, simply giving help to the people who he looked at as second family. His family’s ranch was so successful that he didn’t need the money and even if he did, he wouldn’t have taken it. That’s how humble he is.

And while it was incredibly sweet, it was still hard for you to see him. Still hard to act like you didn’t want to climb all over him, to talk to him like there wasn’t any time missed.

So for everyday that he’s been here, you kept your distance unless your parents explicitly asked you to interact with him. You had maybe two conversations in the three weeks he’s been around and even then, it was only because your mother or father had been there.

There were always subtle glances, moments shared and stories told when your eyes would briefly meet. But it never went beyond that, and you could never understand if you were grateful for it or not.

Before you make your way to the house, you walk up to Caleb’s horse Applebottom, who’s been free roaming while her owner is working inside. She nuzzles into your palm and you pat her wet nose with a chuckle as she swings her blonde hair all over the place to show how delighted she is to be petted. You admire her golden brown and shiny coat, loving how much Caleb really takes care of the sweet horse he’s had since he was thirteen.

Departing from her so that she can continue her frolicking, you climb the porch once you approach the wooden steps and walk inside to put the cup in the kitchen. As you wash your hands, you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. You look over to see your momma.

“Hey babydoll, you give him the lemonade?”

“I did,” you nod. “He said thank you.”

“Good, good,” she huffs. “Listen, your dad and I have to go visit your grandmother. We should be back by tonight.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Okay. Is Grams alright?”

“She’s fine,” she waves off. “She just wants to see her son is all. Been worried sick after we told her about the fall and you know she doesn’t leave the house, so I’ll just bring him to her since he can’t drive on his own right now.”

“Does Caleb know you’re leaving?”

“I’ll get around to telling him. You’ll be okay in the house yourself?” She plucks some stray hay from your hair.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

As the day progresses you find yourself on your momma’s rocking chair, subtly watching Caleb ride around with Applebottom. It’s safe to stare from a distance, so to the best of your ability, you watch how his strong thighs flex in his dark blue jeans, how his hips rock back and forth on the saddle. You listen to how he praises her and laughs every time she does something cute or funny.

The evening glow from the setting sun decorated the scene before you, the little amount of light left gleaming off the gold buckle of Caleb’s deep black Cattleman. He tips his hat off to you with a wink, making your cheeks hot. You turn away when he and Applebottom gallop further down the grass.

The screen door open and shuts behind you, and you look to see your dad with his cane. He sighs as he plops himself on the swinging bench beside you, looking out to where Caleb went.

“We might spend the night at Grams. Supposed to be a storm tonight.”

You tug at your denim shorts, getting uncomfortable with how they stick to you because of the summer heat. “You still sure about going, then?”

He nods. “I don’t want to leave her alone with this anyways. She’s never liked bad weather, just like your mother.” He and you laugh at that.

It’s silent for a moment. “Since Caleb lives a little far out, I told him he could stay the night so he doesn’t have to worry about trying to beat the storm.”

Your body freezes. You look at your dad, not knowing how to respond. He does it for you.

“He stays out of your room, you understand me?”

“Daddy, what are you implying?” you quirk a brow.

“I ain’t implying nothing. I’m saying that we all know what kind of character he is. He’s still a good kid, but he’s…slightly more experienced. Don’t want nothing happening between you two right now, is all. I know you’re grown and I’m not saying Caleb means harm or anything like that, but I don’t want him thinking he can try anything. Just want you to be safe.”

Your parents have never been oblivious to the way you and Caleb look at each other when you think no one’s looking. They’d never say it out loud in front of you, though. Because Caleb has become the town’s heartthrob—something you didn’t expect to return home to—your father still cares about and respects him, but he’d rather you not be another notch on his belt.

“He won’t,” you assure, and your dad looks at you with knowing eyes. “We won’t.”

Caleb stayed outside longer than you expected. You had whipped up a small dinner, telling him it was ready at some point, but he never came inside. He claimed he had a few more things to wrap up in the stables and said he wanted to make sure Applebottom was comfortable before he headed inside. You didn’t combat it, leaving his plate on the counter for him before you took yourself a shower to settle in for the night.

Your parents had left about an hour ago and they let you know they were with your grandmother who missed you something fierce.

It actually started raining as soon as they got there and your dad was right, had Caleb left at the time they found out about the storm, he would’ve been driving home in it.

You laid in your bed, looking at a whole bunch of nothing on your phone when you heard a loud clatter. Startled, you looked behind you to see that your curtain rod had given out.

“Not again,” you grumble, standing and seeing if you could pop it back into place. You couldn’t.

Deciding that you’ll actually have to put in a little elbow grease because you refuse to sleep with your window bare, you walk out of your room to head to the supply closet to find your daddy’s toolbox. At the same time you began your short trek down the hallway, the bathroom door opens to your left.

You look briefly to see Caleb. Shirtless and wet. With a towel slung low around his waist.

You quickly avert your gaze, not saying a word. He’s a walking wet dream, you think to yourself.

“Everything alright?” he calls to you. You halt for a beat, clearing your throat and hoping that your voice doesn’t betray you.

“Yeah,” you say simply.

You hear him chuckle. “You still avoidin’ me? Acting like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him, keeping your eyes up. “I’m not avoiding anything.”

“Then talk to me. It’s just us,” he shrugs. “Nothing to be distant about.”

“I’m busy right now—”

“Let’s be busy together. I got time.”

“Caleb, really—”

“Please,” he says softly, his whole being softening. “I miss you. Miss talking to you.”

Unfortunately for your poor heart, you miss him too. So much. Giving in, you curtly nod. “Okay, we can talk while I fix my curtain rod. Go put some clothes on or something first.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He only put on sweatpants. And instead of letting you work on the rod, he takes over the tools that you found to handle it for you. You sit on your bed, ogling at his back muscles and how they move beneath his smooth skin.

“I’m surprised you still have it if I’m being honest,” he comments, adding onto the conversation you were having as he works on another screw. The thunder rumbles every now and then, making you feel nostalgic for some reason. Maybe it’s because you and him would have late night talks like this when he used to sleep over with his parents during nights with storms similar to the one outside, would happen.

“I’m keeping it even when it stops working. It’s a relic.” The beat up radio from the fifties that Caleb gifted you a couple years ago will always be sacred in your eyes. Not only is it because it was a send off present right before you left for college, but you love antique things.

“Since we’re talking on the topic of things we’re surprised about, the tattoos? What made you get all that?”

He lowers one of his arms, using the other to rattle the rod a little to see how sturdy it is and once satisfied, he gets down from the step ladder you gave him.

“That’s right. Last time you saw me, I only had Applebottom’s name on my side. But it’s nothing sappy or anything. I thought they looked good and figured, why not?”

“I know your mom lost her shit when you got the big ones,” you shake your head with a smile. Caleb’s mother has always been against anything tattoo or piercing related, so you wonder how he’s still standing.

“She did. Until I got the ranch tatted down my arm. Had me get the same exact piece framed and put it on the wall.”

You laugh, thinking about his theatrical mother who you need to get around to visiting. After you came back, you hesitated because you were always nervous about bumping into her son. As you speak with him though, you wish you didn’t. It doesn’t feel forced and it’s nice to talk to him again.

“You ever notice the one on my chest?”

Your frown in thought, moving your head side to side to tell him no. You’d been so busy trying to make sure you didn’t look.

He steps closer, making you crane your neck to look up. You squint, ignoring the fresh scent coming from him and his intoxicating size. The warm light from the floor lamp by your window helps you see and is that…

“My name?!” you exclaim, standing up.

“Least I could do for my favorite girl. Got it when you left for college ‘cause I missed you so much. Wanted to surprise you after I found out you came back, but then you avoided me like the plague.” He stares at you as you run your fingertips across the cursive writing with several small birds flying above it.

“You mean one of your favorites?” you roll your eyes. He grabs your hand before it can fall away from his skin completely. You choose not to speak on the avoiding him like the plague part, because he’s 100% right.

His jaw clenches. “A lot of things changes for a man who isn’t afraid to admit something out loud anymore, you know that?”

“I’m sure.”

“And if I told you that it’s always been you? That it can only ever be you?”

“I’d say the amount of women who knows what your dick looks like means you’re full of shit.”

He smirks. “Jealous?”

“You want me to be?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Tough luck.”

“Cute. But your nipples are telling on you, pretty girl.”

Your facade drops and you try to pull your hand away to cover your peaked nubs beneath your pink tank top.

“Want me to leave?”

You don’t answer and that solidifies all the hope he needs.

“How about if I told you that I’ve always imagined what you’d look like wrapped around my cock. Would you let me stay and find out?”

He stares at your lips as you stand dumbfounded and at a loss for words. “I’d say,” he takes your response and smirks as he twists it. “That based on your dilated pupils and the raging pulse in your neck, the idea intrigues you.”

“Just for you to conquer another sexual fantasy, then leave after you’ve gotten your sample?”

“You wound me,” he kisses your fingertips. “You’re smart, baby. You know I didn’t just start wanting you.”

“You said nothing.”

“Wanted to before you left, didn’t have the guts. Then you came back and it felt impossible to try. Well, with how you’ve been dodgin’ me, is all.” He places your palm to his cheek, kissing your wrist. “And I used to feel like you were too good for me, that I didn’t deserve someone as perfect as you. And while I still do, I want you to make that decision on your own.”

“And if…If I said I wanted you? Then what?”

“Then you’d have me.”

You shudder as he keeps kissing. His eyes are glazed with lust, the desire for granted permission pumping his heart. And when you shakily nod, his mouth is on yours faster than you can brace yourself.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he makes quick work of lifting you, using his strength to climb into the bed with you hanging onto him as he presses in between your legs. Your back arches as his teeth bite the skin of your neck, soothing each nip with an erotic lick from his tongue.

“I’ve never done this before,” you blurt out, making him stop. His eyes look up, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“You’re..?” You nod to answer him so that he doesn’t have to say it.

“Fuck, baby…” He gathers his thoughts. “I’d be honored to be your first. I promise to treat you real good, give you what you deserve.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Not one bit,” he assures, kissing your jaw. “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about. Want me to keep going?”

“Please…”

He smiles, pressing another to your nose. “Spread your legs wider for me.”

You listen to him, letting yourself feel as his hand snakes down your body, past your sleep shorts and into your panties. You whimper as he collects some of your slick, bringing it to your throbbing clit. He kisses you deeply, gently circling your bundle of nerves beneath his middle finger.

“I’m gonna make you cum at least once to get you ready for me.”

You nod, withering beneath him as he works you so easily with just one finger. As he shoves it into your hot walls, you cry out. Then when his thumb continues to please your clit, you feel like he’s raging his own storm within you. You’ve masturbated before, but it’s never felt like this.

Your moans are uncontrollable, falling from you and entrancing him like an ancient siren that has ruled the waters for centuries.

“I knew you’d sound beautiful,” he whispers into your neck. “I’m adding another one, okay?”

A second digit fills you, making you brace your hand on his bicep. The rain hitting your windows is loud, but it has nothing against your cries of pleasure. His fingers slide in and out, curving just right and stretching you deliciously. His hand is like magic with how it’s able to make you feel something so powerful.

He trails down your body with his lips, kissing your tits and sucking on your nipples.

“Caleb…I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, my sensitive baby. I’m right here…”

He rubs your clit just a little faster to help send you over the edge and you pull him back up, tasting him like he’s the epitome of salvation.

As his mouth mingles with yours, you start to shake when your orgasm washes through you, ridding yourself of anything that wasn’t entirely him. His fingers don’t stop until you’ve gone completely slack and he swallows your whimpers as if they’re his fuel.

He’s ravenous now, pulling his fingers from your cunt and bringing them to his mouth to taste your sweetness. Sitting on his knees, you breathe frantically as he pulls off everything keeping you from him. And you’re just as desperate, sitting up to help him pull off his sweatpants.

“Caleb, that’s not gonna fit.” You look between his eyes and his cock once he’s naked too. “How are you even walking around with that thing?”

He laughs genuinely at your shock. “You don’t want it?” He grasps himself, using his tip to push against your clit. You don’t want to seem dramatic, but you swear you almost came again, just from that. He’s so entranced by how your pretty face does nothing to hide how good you feel.

“Just relax for me, yeah? Anytime you need me to stop, just say the word.”

You nod, but put a hand to his hard stomach as he gets ready to slide inside. “I’m not on any birth control. Do you have a condom?”

His eyes slightly enlarge. Caleb has always worn a condom when he had sex. No one could get him to pull his pants off if some form of contraception wasn’t available. But for you? He was ready to go in raw and not give it a second thought. “Fuck. Fuck, I don’t have one. We don’t have to—“

“It’s okay. I trust you.” You trust him. It’s like falling in love with you all over again.

“I’ll pull out and I’m clean. I would never hurt you.”

“I know.”

You watch your name on his pec move in rhythm with his chest as he inhales and exhales. Bracing a hand beside your head, he uses his other to slowly begin to put his cock inside your cunt. He catches his bottom lip in his teeth and when the head slides in, you clench tightly, wincing at the unfamiliar fullness.

“You feel so good,” he breathes out a laugh, knowing that he’ll come quick if he doesn’t get a move on. His fingers and your first orgasm prepped you nicely with how easily he glides inside. He inches in slowly, trying to gauge your comfort level, but there’s nothing but pure bliss on your face.

“All the way,” you beg impatiently. “I can take it…”

“Anything you want,” he promises with a kiss. He loves kissing you.

In one fluid motion, he’s buried to the hilt.

He throbs inside of your velvet walls, making you attempt to push yourself forward to really feel him. “Move, please move..”

As commanded, his hips start to move back and forth to gain momentum before snapping into you like you’re an experience that will fade away if he doesn’t give you what you want. The bed shakes, gently thumping against thea wall every time he sinks all the way back inside of you. That ache you initially felt is long gone, replaced by a something that not even a dictionary has the words to describe.

“This pussy is mine,” he growls in your ear, sucking on the lobe while you make a mess of his semi-dry hair.

“Let me hear you claim this cock, pretty. You need to understand how devoted we are to you from now on.”

The feeling of his fat tip kissing your cervix is mouthwatering. “Your cock is mine,” you mewl as tears form in the corners of your eyes.

His balls slap against you, the continues smacking itching a part inside of you that you never knew needed scratching. You feel how his veins slide against you, feel how your pussy sucks him inside every time he slips away because you can’t even think about this ending.

“I’ve never felt anything this fucking good,” he moans as you chant his name the closer your orgasm approaches.

“I’m about to come, baby. I feel you, you’re right there. I can’t finish until you do.”

His pelvis grinds against your clit, his hair gently ticking your skin. You scratch at his back, your nails making him fuck you harder and his strong arms keep you enclosed in a safe cage. Finally, for the second time, you come so hard that it makes you cry genuine tears because it was so overwhelmingly pleasing.

Swiftly he pulls out, his cum shooting out to land onto your pussy and stomach. You watch how he pumps himself in his hand, edging the rest of his spend out of his leaky tip as it droops slowly.

You look at each other and he’s crawling back on top to kiss you with so much gentleness. He kisses your tears away first and you share a humorous laugh as he gives you more, especially when his featherlight caresses down your sides tickles you.

“You don’t have to say it right now, but…I love you. So much.”

You smile. “I just might love you, too.”

The next morning, the rain has completely stopped and a strong mass is holding you tightly. You stir awake first, humming gently to yourself as you recount last night.

All the way from when you saw him fresh out the shower, u until he cleaned you up and held you until you fell asleep. There’s a pulse between your thighs, both from wanting him again and from what he made you feel just hours before.

A gentle peck to the back of your neck startles you. “You’re up?”

“You know I am,” you chuckle.

“Good.” He inhales your sweet scent. “I’m not one to push my luck, but I’m more than ready for a repeat.”

“Caleb, you just woke up.”

“So did he,” he emphasizes when he grinds against your bare ass, making you bite your lip. He pulls you to lay on your back, causing you to giggle as he gets between your legs and kisses all over your face.

“I wanna take you riding again. Applebottom would love it. Maybe we can get you your own stallion, hm?” He smiles sincerely. “And I wanna show you off now that we’ve stopped playing around. Maybe get around to putting a ring on that finger.”

“You’ve got a lot of wants, cowboy,” you smirk.

“That only you can fulfill.” He goes to attack your mouth again.

Then you heard the front door open and close.

“Shit,” you whisper. Caleb is confused by your shock because you never told him what you and your dad talked about before he left. You completely forgot about them coming back and now, you have no clue how you’re going to quietly get this naked ass man off of you and back in the guest room before either of your parents get upstairs.

With no plan in mind, you accept your—well Caleb’s—fate: Your dad just might actually beat him with his damn cane.

Tags 🏷️: @honeymoonfleur (you said you wanted to be on my caleb tag list and i wasn’t too sure if you meant in general or just for the ex-husband fics. just let me know!)

[norrisjpg]

ceilings

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summary: in which, she was always an afterthought, an accessory, just his plus-one. but the british boy in the apartment above her was about to change everything.

content: broken relationship, mutual pining, aerophobia, end of a relationship, sad/comfort, slow burn, swearing, making out, implied sexual activities, fluff

pairing: lando norris x fem!oc

rora's thoughts: i am literally so in love with lando's suzuka helmet thus this piece was born, even though it has nothing to do with it at all really! i hope you enjoy, and don't forget to comment and interact, i love hearing your thoughts!!

════════════════════════

THERE WAS a comforting stillness about the apartment, a tranquil air settling around the practically bare space.

monaco was different to italy, it was somewhat quieter, peaceful in the evening, but contrastingly bustling at around mid-day. the air smelt richer, the kind of rich you could get sick on, but never get tired of, never get bored of.

she was excited, there was this new-found buzz around her. it was a fresh start, everything was new, nothing was familiar, and she was totally and utterly in love with it.

the monegasque sun had a way of dressing everything in an angelic amber light at sunset, boring white walls turned to sleek expressions of beauty in the fading beams.

goosebumps rippled across her sunkissed skin as the moon rose, scattering the prettiest of constellations across the deepening black sky.

but, as usual, lily's night was spent alone.

the mattress on the floor on her not-yet bedroom felt lonely, meant to be filled by some form of warmth only another person could bring. that kind of feeling, the one that resembled belonging, a person that felt like home, was absent in her life.

the man she called her boyfriend, raphaël carson, wasn't exactly relationship material, per-say.

and no, she definitely didn't love him. and yes, the feeling was almost certainly mutual - but unspoken between the two of them. they were just in a relationship, an agreement, somewhat of a contract.

lily and raphaël had been together for the worst part of two years, and their relationship had been rocky, to put it lightly - but we didn't need to get into that.

hey lily going to have to take a rain check on tomorrow sorry x

a sigh left her lips as the messages popped up on her screen in quick succession.

tomorrow was supposed to be the day lily went shopping for the new apartment, for a new everything. she couldn't not go, but now she'd have no one to help her carry all of her new things up to her apartment, on the second-to-top floor of the fontivielle building.

well, she would just have to make do.

• • • •

SHE WAS about to commit a crime, she thought at least.

lily had opted to order online, after the absence of her boyfriend's help - not that he would have been much anyway.

it was on her third trip that she started to feel the ache in her arms, and the humbling experience of being denied help by the delivery driver that had delivered her furniture sent her mind into a slight rage too.

when the fifth trip she had made came around, she was exhausted. people, who she assumed to be her neighbours, had passed with kind smiles and polite mutters of greeting, with no offers of help - not that lily expected them to, of course.

there was this one man that passed her, clad in a grey nike tracksuit, airpods in, and a chain with four golden lines as a charm. what caught her attention was the way he smelt.

he carried an aroma of polo red, lynx, and a hint of vanilla - he was enticing.

his quick glance at her lingered a little too long, and he sent her a small, warm smile as he passed.

great.

lily resumed her previous activity, trying to carry four moderately large plants in through her front door, almost smashing three of them in the process.

"would you like some help?" a british voice spoke up from the hallway as she finally managed to place the plants down.

the girl turned around, met with the same vanilla-smelling man from earlier - oh, so he was british too.

"um... yes please, if you don't mind." she replied with a polite smile, nodding as she walked toward him and out of her apartment once more. "all of my stuff is down in my car, and the delivery driver couldn't help, so... yeah."

"oh, i'm pretty sure i had the same guy when i got my living room delivered, he's such a dick." the man responded as they made their way toward the elevator.

"agreed." lily nodded, glancing at him as they entered the lift together. "i'm lily, by the way."

"lando," lando said back.

"as in the star wars character?" she asked, eyebrows knitted together with a small smile on her lips.

"nope, i think my mum just liked the name." he shrugged with a laugh. "so, you've just moved in, yeah?"

"yeah, yesterday." the italian explained. "how long have you lived here for then?"

"uh, 'bout four years now, i think?" lando tilted his head to look at her, down a little bit as she was shorter than him. "i moved here before the twenty-two season, so... yeah, four years. so, where are you from?"

"florence, in italy." lily nodded softly. "you're from the uk, right?"

"yeah, yeah." he nodded as the elevator dinged open. "born in bristol, which is in england."

"oh, never been there, is it nice?"

"bit of a shithole, to be honest, london and surrey are much nicer - you should go sometime." he suggested as they approached her car.

"yeah, maybe."

• • • •

LARGE HOTELS always had a way of draping everything in velvet and beauty, silk whispers travelling through trees and settling in the expensive air.

"you actually look nice," raphaël commented, lips briefly pressing to her temple as if it was a chore. "i mean, at least you tried, right?"

a quiet hum came from lily's lips as she nodded, trying to eye the bar as they entered the venue. she arrived on his arm, looking effortlessly gorgeous and faintly smelling of the perfume her mother had gifted her last year for her birthday.

her dress was nothing short of divine - silky fabric clinging to her, hugging the subtle dips of her hips and cascading down to her ankles. the louboutins on her feet were just tall enough to be uncomfortable, but padded enough to be bearable - if anything, more comfortable than she felt on the man she called her boyfriend's arm - so, she excused herself to the bar.

"boyfriend, then?" a familiar voice said, as the feeling of a warm body behind her crept up to her skin.

"oh, hi lando." lily smiled softly. "yeah, that's raphaël."

"well, his shoes seriously don't go with that suit." lando raised his eyebrows. "and he sounds like a mutant turtle."

"a mutant turtle?" she audibly laughed, mortified by the insult.

"yeah, the um... teenage mutant ninja turtles thing."

"sounds ridiculous to me." lily shook her head. "and i did try to tell him about the shoes, but well... he didn't listen to me, clearly."

"so, you're a model then, miss ainsley?" lando asked, leaning against the bar as lily was handed her drinks.

"oh, you've been doing some stalking then, have you?"

"and you haven't?" he laughed, "you're very... yeah."

"well, mr mclaren formula 1 driver, yes, i am a model." she said matter-of-factly. "i can't believe you didn't mention that you're a literal f1 driver too."

"i try not to mention it, like... it warps some peoples' opinions of you, you know?"

"understandable," lily was about to say something else, but an arm snaked it's way around her waist.

"alright?" raphaël said, fingers digging into her hip. "was wondering where my drink got to."

"yeah, here." she said bluntly, sliding the drink to him. "this is lando, he lives above me."

"nice to meet you, mate." lando nodded, sticking a hand out toward her boyfriend.

raphaël mumbled something in response, before walking off with the drink and completely ignoring lando.

"sorry about him, he's a twat sometimes." she replied, slightly embarrassed by the behaviour of her significant other.

"i can tell," lando breathed out, laughing a bit. "it's fine, don't worry."

and just like that, the anxious edges of the night softened into uncontrollable giggles and a lack of silence between the two. no pauses, just lovely, unserious chatter between the pair.

they had found a sofa, overlooking the pretty ocean and away from the boring talk of the event, not that either of them could remember why they were there anymore. it was too natural, every laugh was genuine, every look lingered with unspoken affection and a newfound interest in getting to know someone - the first either of them had experienced in a while.

"liliana?" raphaël's voice was heard, and dreaded by the italian girl. "i want to leave, let's go - oh, there you are."

"we're leaving?" lily tilted her head, a look of subtle disappointment in her eyes.

"yeah, let's go." he spoke bluntly.

• • • •

"LILY?" A VOICE yelled from the pitlane, a tanned hand shielding his eyes from the sun beaming down in the direction of the woman leaning over the balcony.

"lando!" lily replied, smiling at the young driver waving up at her.

it was the monaco grand prix, the weather was warm, the breeze was light, and the aura around the mclaren garage was one of confidence and subtle smugness - they were leading both championships after all.

the roar of an indescribably loud engine blocked out what the brit was hollering up to her, but he was jogging up the stairs to her hospitality within seconds.

"fancy seeing you here, miss ainsley." lando laughed as he approached the girl, his race suit hanging low around his hips with a black fireproof clinging to his torso.

"can't say the same for you, mr norris." she smiled in response, easily reciprocating as he lightly hugged her.

"so, how are you?" he asked, so casually cool as fans swarmed around them, nerves creeping on lily's face. "i haven't seen you since... the mastercard event, where your boyfriend stole you away from me."

she audibly laughed, if anything it was lando stealing her attention from raphaël - which didn't take much, actually - but there was something about the way he did it so effortlessly.

"i'm good, yeah, i'm good." she nodded, visibly a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people around them, listening in on their conversation as they waited for lando's attention. "how are you?"

"i'm feeling good, yeah, this weekend looks good." he nodded, leaning against the balcony. "hey, do you want a tour of the garage?"

lily laughed again, this time at the sheer randomness of the question.

"uh, yeah, sure." she replied, glancing around the crowd of people for her boyfriends. "i just need to let raphaël know where i'm going."

"do you not have a nickname for him or something?" lando asked, noticing the constant full use of his name.

"he likes to be called by his actual name, no nicknames." she pursed her lips, realising how ridiculous it sounded once she'd said it out loud.

"oh right, i see." what a prick, in other words. "he sounds... yeah."

"don't even," she huffed with a breath resembling amusement. "actually, he probably won't even notice that i'm gone, so... yeah, let's go."

"perfect." lando smiled, holding his hand out, which earned a confused look from the italian. "for your safety, of course."

she shrugged and placed her slender hand into his, letting him quickly lead her through the myriad of different people, and down the stairs, through the 'mclaren team only' barrier on the stairs, then into the papaya garage.

"these," lando said as he let go of her hand and skipped over to the headsets on the wall, picking up the one that had a '4' neatly printed onto the side. "are for you."

he padded over to where she was waiting, and gently brushed some stray hair behind her ears and shoulders, before pulling the headphones apart and placing them on her head. she caught herself gazing at the almost perplexed look on his face as he adjusted them to fit her, before he placed them around her neck instead.

"you should feel privileged, you know? you're getting a deluxe tour." lando began. "they're the set i'm given for my plus-one. if i had one, that is."

"no girlfriend then?" the words slipped from her mouth before her brain had even registered the question she wanted to ask.

"wouldn't you like to know," the driver teased as they walked down the corridor together. "but no, no girlfriend, no nothing - i've been single for a while."

"ah, i see." she nodded, going to say something else, but her expression turned to one of a deer in headlights as the hallway opened up into a bustling garage of papaya and collected precision.

"come on, i'll show you the car." lando smiled, catching his lower lip between his teeth happily as he grabbed lily's hand once more, tugging her toward his championship-leading car.

the model hurried behind him, laughing as he practically ran toward his car, pretty in papaya with a silver '4' etched into the carbon fibre.

lando was explaining all of the delicate intricacies of the machine, lily was lost in awe of how much there was going on in one vehicle, but enticed by the admirable look in his eyes. the way he was talking about this thing most considered to be a metal monster, the gleam in his eyes and the smile on his face.

god, what was happening to her?

• • • •

CARLOS AND LANDO inhabited a small white table in the corner of the golf club's brunch bar, chatting about the brit's plans for a vacation to greece, and the spaniard's plans to possibly propose to rebecca over the off-season.

"so, who was the girl you were with in monaco?" carlos asked, taking a drink of the cocktail on the linen tablecloth. "i saw you in the garage with her, the brunette?"

"oh, she lives above me, her name is lily." lando began, a smile spreading to his lips. "she's a model, from italy. but she has this boyfriend and he's such a prick."

"you've got it bad." he pointed out, chucking at him. "you've got it real bad."

"i've got what?"

"you so like her, camarada." the spanish man nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. "and she has a boyfriend, so you are screwed."

he didn't even bother to deny it, carlos knew him too well.

so what? maybe he did like her? it wasn't like he could do anything about it either way, she had a boyfriend - a shit one at that. but, he was no homewrecker, and she seemed stable, financially at least, not that it would be any different with him.

LILY HAD made a friend, and her name was alexandra saint mleux.

alex and lily had met each other at the monaco grand prix, hitting it off immediately.

after her little adventure with lando around the mclaren garage, he had taken her to the ferrari garage, with the hopes that he'd slowly but surely integrate her more frequently into his life - so why not better introduce her to a close friend?

"so, raphaël then?" alexandra asked, sipping on the small cup of coffee on the tiny wooden table between them.

"yeah, we've been together for two years, now." lily replied, nodding.

"are you happy with him?"

and for the first time, she hesitated.

no, of course she wasn't happy with him. he was arrogant, and mean, and uncaring, and selfish, and downright rude.

"yeah, i am."

truthfully, it sounded like she was trying to tell herself that more than the art student across the table from her.

"i may have only met you a few weeks ago, but i know when someone is lying, lily." alexandra raised her eyebrows. "so, what's the deal then?"

"i don't know, alex." lily sighed gently, pinching the bridge of her nose. "he's just... yeah."

"come on, explain it." she pressed, sensing there was something deeper.

"it's just sometimes he acts like i'm an inconvenience, like... like i'm the last thing on his mind." the model began. "and i'm not saying i want to be the first, but-"

"no, no, you should be the first thing, lily." alexandra interrupted. "you're his girlfriend - whatever he does for a living, whoever his friends are, you should be priority number one."

• • • •

AEROPHOBIA means the irrational fear of flying, and lily ainsley was definitely an aerophobic.

"just get over it, you travel all the time, lily." raphaël commented, rolling his eyes as his girlfriend squeezed his hand for some sort of comfort.

"it doesn't mean i like flying." she replied, frowning as he dropped her hand.

"whatever." he huffed, walking onto the jet before her.

the sleek mclaren jet was filled with engineers and mechanics, coaches and technicians. despite the number of interesting and vaguely familiar faces she could interact with, lily was hoping to see one face in particular - but he didn't seem to be there.

raphaël had spotted some buddies from his old marketing firm, so before the plane had even taxied to the runway, he had moved seats and lily was alone.

"is this seat taken?"

she didn't even have to look up at the person asking before a smile spread onto her lips, it was lando, of course.

"depends on who wants to sit there." lily teased, raising her eyebrows.

the british driver laughed and sit down, cramming his hand luggage under his seat.

"where's the mutant turtle then? i heard he was on this flight." lando asked.

"over there with some friends from his old job." the model shrugged casually, and she was about to speak again, but the plane started rumbling forward.

lily inhaled sharply, gripping the sides of the chair tightly.

she had always hated flying. when she was little, she and her father had watched one to many of those 'air crash investigation' episodes on the national geographic channel, which is probably where the fear stemmed from in the first place. but then, on a holiday to paris with her family, the plane had to touchdown and take off again, which gave her a little bit of trauma.

so therefor, lily ainsley was a chronic aerophobic - not that her boyfriend seemed to care anyway.

but lando noticed.

he noticed the way her breath quietly hitched, the way the grip of her small hands tightened on the armrests, the way her torso tensed as the plane trundled forward.

and he noticed the look on her face when he placed his hand over her own stressed one.

"you okay?" lando asked softly, looking at her with nothing but concern and a hint of something else in his gaze.

"i hate flying." she mumbled, taking a deep breath.

he gave her hand a comforting squeeze, earning an affectionate smile from her.

"you'll be okay, i'm here." he reassured the italian woman.

lily glanced at him, an appreciative expression on her face. there was something else in her eyes, pining maybe? whatever it was, the feeling was entirely mutual from lando.

"thankyou, lan."

the nickname that tumbled from her lips made his heart stutter and his tummy flutter - fuck, there was no way he was getting this flustered over a simple nickname.

god, what was happening to him?

• • • •

SATURDAY WAS always lily's favourite day of the week.

it brought relaxing tranquillity in the daytime, and usually glamourous party in the evening - the perfect contrast.

singapore managed to make the evening fizz with the clink of non-alcoholic champagne in pristine glasses, and hum with excited chatter in the heat of the night. the country had the best way of painting a sky in the navy tones of an alive night, and making prestigious parties sound like something out of a millionaire's dream.

however, the saturday in question hadn't exactly gone to plan for lily.

"there's no point in you going, it's not like you actually have any friends," he shrugged, splayed out on his couch at his apartment in singapore. "well, there at least."

the off-hand comment from raphaël had sent her practically mental at him - screaming, shouting, two years of built-up frustration all released at one moment.

what was he talking about?

the mclaren team had invited lily as a guest to singapore, and raphaël insisted he come as her plus-one, even though he definitely wouldn't have invited her if it was the other way around - not that lando liked the guy enough to have him stick around for the week before one of the most gruelling races on the calendar.

and just like that, almost two years of hidden glares and stolen eye-rolls was over.

alexandra was in monaco with charles still, so she went to the only person she knew well enough to show up at his room unannounced.

the door opened and so did her tear ducts, salty streams of water trickling down her face as the dazed man in front of her pulled her immediately into a hug.

"we don't have to talk about it," was the first thing lando said. "you don't have to tell me."

"we broke up," she mumbled into his chest. "i broke up with him."

it may have sounded sick, but he smiled. lando fucking smiled.

a weight had lifted off of both of them in that moment - lando the guilt of falling for someone in a relationship, and lily the stress of being in an unhappy relationship, and some other things too.

an eternity passed, worlds died and were reborn - the sun could have imploded for all the two cared.

"you still going to the gala tonight?" he asked gently, hands resting on her lower back.

"i don't know," lily mumbled. "i don't have anyone to-"

"go with me." lando said simply.

she smiled weakly, "yeah, okay."

• • • •

"SO, JUST FRIENDS?" oscar pried, taking a swig of the almost nice zero-percent champagne.

"just friends." lily replied, shaking her head politely.

the younger australian's company was refreshing, someone who didn't know of her now ex-boyfriend, where there was no subtle judgement for staying with someone as mentally tiring as him. she'd only met oscar around an hour ago, but she would definitely consider him a friend, he was sweet, funny, and completely and utterly in love with his girlfriend, who also happened to be called lily.

lando was entertaining some sponsors, boorishly talking away with elderly investors like his livelihood depended on it - because he knew once he was done, it was oscar's turn, and he could have lily to himself for the rest of the evening.

"i find that hard to believe, you know?" the australian shrugged, nodding his head in response. "i've never seen lando like this, i mean this is only my third season with him, but he's just different when he talks about you."

"he talks about me?" she tilted her head, a small sheepish smile raising to her lips.

"he doesn't shut up about you, lily." oscar told her, laughing breathily. "it's annoying actually, he always finds a way to bring you up, even andrea knows at this point."

she smiled, a soft pink heat spread across her cheeks, she was blushing. the girl glanced over at lando, who was deep in conversation with an older man in a smart suit - but he still managed to send a kind smile over to her.

oscar and lily held a steady conversation, but it was soon interrupted by two gentle hands on lily's waist, mindful of the delicate fabric holding her dress together.

"osc, you're up, buddy."

the younger mclaren driver rolled his eyes, politely leaving lando and lily on their own together.

"fuck, i need to sit down." the brit said, spinning her around to face him. "come with me?"

she nodded, humming as her cheeks heated up upon making eye contact with the taller brunette. he replaced the hands on her waist with a singular one sprawled across the bare skin of her lower back, guiding her toward the high stools and tables.

a chair was quickly pulled out for her by his free hand, and she thanked him quietly, before lando himself sat down opposite her.

"i'm sorry, i ditched you." he began, resting his head on his palm. "stupid sponsors and media shit, honestly."

"it's okay, don't worry." lily shook her head, a reassuring look on her face. "oscar's lovely, by the way, why have you never introduced us before?"

"i don't know, i didn't want to be too forward, you know?"

"well, for future reference, mr norris," she cooed. "nothing is too forward, with you at least."

it was his turn to blush, the tips of his ears tinging a pretty pink colour as the heat rose to his cheeks.

he smiled shyly, "i'll um.. i'll keep that in mind then, lils."

"good, good."

• • • •

MONACO WAS starting to feel like home, so the salty air was a relief to her when she stepped off of the jet and onto the runway.

"still want to come over for dinner?" lando asked, wheeling two suitcases behind him - and one of them wasn't his, but he insisted he carry them.

"promise me you're not cooking?" lily teased, climbing into the sleek black jeep, shuffling over so lando could clamber in next to her.

"oh, you'd be privileged to experience my culinary expertise." he rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"and experience violent nausea? oh, yeah, count me in."

"nasty girl, you are, ainsley." the british driver joked, laughing with her.

"and you wouldn't have it any other way, norris."

lando just smiled, internally agreeing with her, externally humming sarcastically.

the rest of the drive was filled with warm laughter or comfortable silence, a one where the sound of their beating hearts could be muffled by the sheer weight of the affection between the pair.

they stole quick glances at each other through the extremely short drive, catching the eye of the other once or twice and smiling softly.

lando's apartment always smelt warm, like a heated blanket on a winter's day. it made her body relax and any stress melt away with the icy barrier society formed around her mind. it was also always surprisingly clean for a constantly travelling man in his mid-twenties - maybe he had a cleaner, maybe he did it himself - but either way the effort was there.

"lily?" her name sounded angelic when it came from his mouth.

she turned, soul stuttering as her face was met with the close proximity of his chest. before she could even look up at him, his hand was on the side of her neck, thumb tilting her head to meet his gaze.

his eyes softened, gently lighting up. he looked at her like she'd stepped out of heaven itself, sighing affectionately as if she was part of a dream he'd not been able to shake from his mind.

"have i ever told you how pretty you are?"

lip caught between his teeth, eyelashes long and half-hooded eyes, pupils as large as they could grow. he was a sight for sore eyes - she felt sorry for anyone who was visually impaired.

"oh shush." she brushed it off, laughing, quiet and real.

"don't do that," lando shook his head. "don't dismiss yourself, you're gorgeous, lils."

"thankyou, lando."

"please." he murmured, eyes flitting over her face.

"please what?" she asked, wanting to recoil in the best way possible as he looked at her like that.

"let me kiss you, please."

there was pause in her expression, easily noticed by her lack of response, so he started talking again - "i've been falling for you since the gala, since the plane, since the stupid mastercard event, ever since the plants. and i really-"

within an instant, her arms were around his neck and her lips were on his. soft, hesitant, tentative, and borderline nervous - but it felt like home. the shape of his darker lips fit perfectly against her own soft pink ones, and his hands moulded into the dips of her hips like they were sculpted from the same soul, split into two.

his eyes widened a little, before fluttering closed easily, melting into the shorter girl's touch. her dainty fingertips tugged at the base of his mullet, humming into his lips as his hands pulled her closer into him by her lower back.

his tongue softly pressed at the seam of her lips, politely asking for entrance, to which she quickly obliged - parting her mouth enough for him to slide in.

a groan vibrated from the back of his throat and his grip tightened, before he walked her backward until she was pinned up against the wall. once her back hit the wall, he pulled away for air, lightly panting, hot breath hitting her face as he hooked his hands under her thighs.

"up," he mumbled lowly, signalling for her to come up to him.

in a few seconds, she was wrapped around him, legs squeezing tightly around him.

"fucking hell." lando breathed out, biting his lip as he gazed at the breathless girl in his arms.

her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and that was it.

it was messier, hungrier, filled with more desperation than before. he pushed his hips up against her, teeth nipping at her lower lip teasingly before he slid his tongue into her warm mouth with no gentle press of permission this time - making it all the hotter.

fuck, it was going to be a long night.

• • • •

i do not give permission for my works to be re-written, re-published, or published on any other platform.

© norrisjpg 2025

[fanaticsnail]

Can you write something romantic for yandere Mihawk? Like a drabble or headcannons?

🐈‍⬛

I don't think I've ever written yandere before, but I wanted to give it a go. I hope this is what you were looking for! 🖤🐌

Obsession

Masterlist here

Word count: 1,200+

Synopsis: Many believe Mihawk keeps the knowledge of his spouse a secret because he is a private man. Truth of it is, he is simply obsessed with you and doesn't believe any other pair of eyes is worthy of meeting their gaze with your majesty.

Themes: yandere!Mihawk x gn!reader, possessive attitude, obsession, infatuation, pining, longing, lusting, love, romance, kissing, yandere trope.

Notes: I will do anything to write a man in love. I love how period-drama romance looks on Mihawk, and I couldn't not write him with a little bit of a possessive flavour. I made the banner with OPLA's Mihawk wanted poster.

Tag list: @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @jintaka-hane @daydreamer-in-training @carrotsunshine @indydonuts @i-am-vita @sordidmusings

While many were aware that Dracule Mihawk was married, they simply presumed he was a very private man. He enjoyed keeping to himself, and allowing himself the courtesy of remaining in solitude with his spouse while tending to his title as World's Greatest Swordsman.

In some aspects, he did. He did enjoy keeping to himself and remaining in solitude while he lived in the high keep of his castle, surrounded by swirled mountains and his well-tended gardens. But at the crux of his entire life, the center of his world and the prized diamond in his vast treasury, was you.

You ruled his heart, controlled his chin and the direction his gaze fell with a simple whisper of a word or the scent of your perfume. He was a man consumed, humbled by his infatuation to the point where his love fell into captivated, depraved fixation.

To put it simply, Dracule Mihawk wanted to keep you all to himself. He was a man consumed by his bewitchment and infatuation with the owner of his heart.

He was never one for sharing, never joining a crew or forming a bond other than rivalry with another person. As soon as he met you, everything changed for him. His heart soared, his breath was stolen from his lungs, and his eyes never strayed from honing in on your beauty.

He wasn't sure what it was you did or didn't do that had him fall to his knees and begin to worship at your altar. All he knew was he wanted you so desperately, craved to be by your side always, and wanted to shy you away from the wandering eyes of all whom he deemed unworthy to have their gaze fall upon your majesty.

When your courtship first commenced, he attempted to keep his tribute humble and small. But as your eyes lit up at the first offer of a simple rose he carved from his favored floral shrubbery, he knew he wanted to spoil you with lavish luxury. Each gift was catered to your interests and tastes, items you never thought he paid enough mind to your conversation while promenading, hand interlaced within the crook of his elbow.

He paid mind to it all. The way your voice changed when speaking on your passions, the questions you asked him about his life before working for the World Government, how you paused in the garden and listened to the sweet chirps of birds begin courting their mates. He hung on your every word, movement and motion.

For someone so stoic and reserved, the way his heart melted for you the moment your eyes met was as if his cold vessel was chaperoned into the bright light of a warm sunset. He couldn't get enough, and when he was certain you returned his love, he refused any exchange of dowry for your hand.

He wanted you to be his just as much as he desired to be yours. That was more than enough for him, and he would never leave you for wanting or without for all the days of your life.

The first time he was summoned to perform his duty as a warlord for the World Government after your marriage, he was overcome with rage at the thought of leaving your side. He almost took the head of the carrier bird with the summons for his assignment, but withheld his violent act at the sight of you offering the bird your Berry, and gifting them your palm filled with sunflower seeds.

As soon as the bird fled, he lifted your palm within his own, brushed the darkened casings of the remains from the seeds' shells, and rose the flesh to his lips to kiss away the indents of pecks the bird left in raised welts on your skin. Cupping his bearded chin, you rose his amber eyes to meet with yours.

“I will return to you,” his voice mourned for you above the softest whisper, “I will always return to you.” Leaning his cheek and chin into your palm, he closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in deep yearning.

“You are always so good to me,” you responded in a tone that mirrored his own, prompting his eyes to snap open and gaze deeply into your own. “I trust you to find your way home once you conclude this contract.” Ushering his face closer to you, you whisper against his lips before fully making contact, “I will be right where you left me, waiting for you to return.”

Mihawk's eyes darkened, his pupils blown black and eclipsing his honey-hue with the intensity of his possessive gaze. He knew he was many things to you, and good was far from a sentiment he held for himself. His desire to keep you secret was not to keep you safely tucked away from those who wished to do him harm, but because he was truly a selfish man.

As your lips closed in around his own, he was ready to commence his enthusiastic consumption of all that you had to offer him. Each kiss he pressed into you felt both like the first time he had ever felt such passion, and the last time he was ever to claim such a prize.

Hands clawing at your hips, he drew you flush with his own and angled his chin to deepen the oscillation. Tongue darting out to taste yours like a delicacy he was never again to roll over his palate, the muscle ground against your lips and lewdly consuming your kiss with lusting desire.

Both pulling away from one another, he rested his forehead against yours and took a moment to catch his breath. Eyes closed and brow lowered, he shared breaths with you and savored every moment you shared with one another.

“I crave the day we meet again, my precious consort,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, “My guiding light to point me home,” his lips dart down to claim your cheek beneath it, “The crown jewel in my treasury, and reigning monarch of my very soul.” He pressed a chaste and longing kiss once more against your lips before pulling away.

“Always so charming, my love,” you smile up at him, removing your hands from his face and smoothing over his leather shoulder pads of his outer great-cloak. “I will be right here ready to receive you, as I always am.”

“My beloved,” he whispered, his eyes falling half-lidded and dark eyelashes fluttering from your lengthy confession.

“My dear,” you breathed his whisper within your chest and replaced it with your own. You pressed your lips to his cheek, an offer of your blessing to embark on the next chapter of his journey.

Dracule Mihawk was a man consumed with the love he had for his counterpart. He rued each day to depart from your side, and would have no quarrel with offering his opinion as such to the official whom summoned him.

Truthfully, he was a man infatuated by his spouse that it bordered on domination by his strongest emotions, but choosing to keep them beneath the surface to not tighten you with his intensity. It was his addiction, his fix in a world full of darkness and torment.

He was your loyal zealot, knight and fierce protector, and you...

You were his obsession.

[serveandchoke]

Everything has changed

Jannik Sinner x Reader

Synopsis: You're the girl next door, foreign, and out of place. But you meet the red-headed boy from the house next to yours and changes your life.

a/n: 2/3 fics :p im so soo sorry for making u guys wait, tourney has been unforgiving and it's hard balancing activities hahaaa but yeah after my tournament i got to go to madrid and see matches happen in real time so yeah.. but i kinda wished jannik was playing, i miss him. BUTTT we get to see him again in a few weeks and i cannot wait for that. alright enough oversharing hope u enjoy this fic!!!🤍🤍

It all started when you moved to Italy. You were just a kid, barely twelve, when your family decided to make the move from your home country to Jannik’s small hometown of San Candido. At the time, it felt like an impossible adjustment, a different world filled with strange customs, a new language, and people who all seemed so far ahead in their lives. But there was one constant that kept you grounded: Jannik Sinner.

He was thirteen, just a year older than you, but he made everything feel easier. He was quiet, a little reserved, yet incredibly kind. His smile was rare but always genuine, and it seemed like he always knew how to make you feel at ease, even in the most foreign of settings. He spoke in his thick Italian accent, which at first was hard for you to understand, but soon enough, you’d learned his words as if they were your own.

The two of you were inseparable. Every afternoon, after school, you'd both ride your bikes through the winding streets, exploring the beautiful town together, laughing over things that seemed silly to everyone else. It wasn’t long before you realized you had developed an undeniable bond with Jannik. The friendship blossomed naturally, and you never thought twice about it, he was just the boy you grew up with. The boy who always made you feel like you belonged.

By the time you were sixteen, something in Jannik changed. You could feel it before he even said it, before you even understood it fully. You’d noticed the subtle shifts in the way he looked at you, the way his hand would brush yours when you walked side by side, the way his smile became a little warmer every time he saw you. The small things that shouldn’t have meant anything, yet they did. But you were too caught up in your own world, high school, your family, your plans, to pay much attention to it.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Jannik said one evening, the two of you sitting on a grassy hill overlooking the town. He was staring at the sunset, but you could see the tension in his jaw, his lips pressed together like he had something heavy on his mind.

“About what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to read him. You could tell something was different in the way he spoke. It wasn’t the usual carefree Jannik who would joke around and tease you.

“I’ve been thinking about tennis,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether he should say it or not. “About how... I might want to take it seriously, go pro. You know, travel the world and all that.”

It wasn’t a surprise. He was already exceptional at tennis, the best player in town by far. You’d always known he had potential, but the weight of it hit you when he spoke those words aloud. He had always been so grounded, so humble about his talent, and now, you could see the pressure in his eyes.

"That’s... that’s really amazing, Jannik, you should go for it. I mean, whatever you feel like what works for you, you know?" you said, trying to sound as supportive as you could. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The thought of him leaving, leaving everything behind, was too much to process.

His eyes flicked to you, reading your expression, shaking his head. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave here, though,” he said quietly, as though he were confessing something. “I don’t want to leave you.”

The way he said that made your heart race. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. The moment stretched on, both of you sitting there in the silence, but the air was different now, charged with something unspoken. Something you didn’t know how to name, and neither did he.

But the day came, and Jannik left for the big leagues. It wasn’t a grand goodbye, just a quiet one. You clung to him, as if it was the last because this was the last you'd be having this. Having him. "I'll miss you." You'd say, swallowing the tears back. "I'll miss you even more," He'd press a kiss to your temple, and you'd pretend it meant something to him. Because it did to you, and maybe, it meant something to him too.

You watched him go, as he stepped onto the plane to begin his journey. And you stayed behind, your world still in San Candido, your heart feeling the loss more than you ever expected.

Years passed. You focused on your studies, diving into your work, pushing through medical school. You had dreams of becoming a doctor, helping athletes, but every now and then, Jannik’s face would flash in your mind. It wasn’t often, but it was enough for you to realize that part of you still held onto him, even from afar. You followed his career, of course. Everyone did. He became one of the best players in the world, and with every victory, you felt a mixture of pride and ache. He had become everything you had always known he could be. And as much as you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

By the time you were twenty-four, you had finished your medical degree and started working as a sports doctor, focusing on athletes. The job was demanding, but it was everything you had ever wanted. And yet, no matter how busy you were, the thought of Jannik lingered at the edges of your thoughts. You had moved on, in a sense, built your life around your goals and your work. But Jannik’s absence, the loss of that connection, still weighed on you.

Then, one day, it happened.

You were working at the clinic, reviewing a new athlete’s file when you heard the familiar voice. At first, you thought you were imagining it. But when you looked up, there he was. Jannik Sinner, standing in the doorway of your office, wearing that familiar smile that sent a warm rush of nostalgia through your veins.

It took a moment for your brain to process it all. He had grown taller, his body more defined, his face sharper. But his eyes, those deep blue eyes, were still the same. They were the same eyes that had watched you grow up, the same eyes that held secrets in them when you were younger, when you were both too scared to admit what you had.

“Jannik?” You blinked, unsure if you were dreaming.

He chuckled, a low, familiar sound. “It’s really you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”

The warmth in his voice made your heart flutter. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed it, missed him, until now. “What are you doing here?” you asked, standing up from behind your desk, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of him.

“I’m here for a check-up,” he said with a shrug, as though it was no big deal. “You’re working as a doctor for athletes now, no?”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath. “Yeah, I’m actually the team doctor for some of the tennis players now.” You gestured to the seat across from you. “You can take a seat.”

Jannik did, sitting casually across from you, his posture relaxed as always. But even now, you noticed the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes searched your face, like he was trying to figure something out. Something important.

“How’s everything?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest. He was here. After all these years, he was here.

He smiled, and for a second, you swore you saw a flicker of something more than just friendship in his eyes. “It’s good. You look good, too. You’ve really grown up.”

You laughed softly, nervously. “Well, I did go to med school, so... there’s that.”

The conversation shifted easily from there, but beneath the surface, something had changed. You both had changed. Jannik, the young boy who had once been your best friend, had become a man. A man you couldn’t deny you still had feelings for. And as you talked about everything that had happened since you last saw each other, you realized something. Something that had been building for years. This wasn’t just a reunion. This was fate pulling you back together, as if it was always meant to be.

As Jannik stood to leave, he turned to you with a look that was both familiar and new. “It was good seeing you again,” he said, his smile lingering a little longer than necessary. “Maybe... we can catch up more? Off the clock?”

Your heart raced as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. But you didn’t need to. His smile said everything.

And just like that, everything had changed.

[moonlight-prose]

STRANGE ADDICTION

➻ 01. BEAUTIFUL DEATH

a/n: i have rewritten this chapter about two times just to get it right. i want it to feel like the show, but also i'm a perfectionist when it comes to posting in a new fandom. this story has been in my head since s1 dropped and well it feels great to finally put it somewhere. even if the love for silco has sorta died down. i've had the most fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

summary: dinner with an old friend leads to revelations about your past. about whether you chose the right path - the future meant for you. or if time indeed stands still beyond what science and magic tells you.

word count: 4.5k+

pairing: silco x f!reader; viktor x f!reader (platonic)

warnings: not explicit, angst, friendships, flashbacks, arguing, hesitation to tell the truth, pining (not by reader), the haunting of past relationships.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The sun beat down harder than ever before. A bright scorching ball of light that seemed intent on searing through the fabric of your gown. Although you weren't entirely opposed, given the weight of the material that clung to your skin.

It seemed that the sun favored topside more than anywhere else. You'd known this for a while, your eyes fixed on the horizon at each turning of the clock. Dusk assumed its duties for the day, bringing forth the moon that hid until the time was right to reveal herself. Flames licked across the sky and suddenly you were a child again. Stunned by the magnificence and beauty of something so normal.

When you were younger you held the belief that only those in the grand city would be able to witness this. To watch as sunset broke along brilliant blue before sinking below—away from the towers of the grand house.

Although the term house felt humble and dishonest given the lavish setting. Castle seemed like a better word. Or kingdom.

Piltover. The land of progress.

How ironic that just below the surface lay the vastness of a city that thrived on the opposite. You felt like royalty amidst the opulence around you. Someone who was crowned long ago by the people who deemed you worthy enough. Yet it wasn't that long ago that you were a young kid vying for a glimpse at a clear sky. Topside rarely accepted those that didn't belong; unsurprising but still a bitter disappointment.

How you managed to trick them—fool their wits—into allowing you access escaped you.

This felt too extravagant. So unlike the person you once knew. It felt fictional. A tale as old as time now finally bestowed upon someone like you.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, eyes wide at the brilliant orange that painted itself over pinks and yellows.

A voice echoed in the distance, someone calling your name, and with a sigh you were pulled away from the ambience of this view. You preferred a chance to stay here but you recognized the lilt of his voice, the familiar drawl of his words. With a sigh you let go of the balcony railing and turned towards the room you were staying in. His room. He offered and gave no room for an argument.

That didn't stop you from trying.

"Dinner is being planned," he announced, balancing his weight on the cane held in his tight grip.

"All this trouble isn't necessary." Pulling the chair by his bed close, you took the opposite one with a grin. "I'm not that important."

He huffed, long and loud enough to keep you quiet. "I don't see you often enough. Dinner is the least I can do."

"Viktor–" His hand went up before you could state your case—the argument ready to fly off the tip of your tongue.

"I've argued with you enough over the years to know when you will start." His smile is warm, an old piece of the past that still resides in the back of your mind.

"I call that an unfair advantage," you muttered.

"I would call it strategy."

"Strategy requires the mind of a politician," you joked. The words rolled out of your mouth with ease as you scrutinized the man before you.

He shrugged. "I've got politician friends."

"Right."

Over the years you often wondered where your paths might cross again. Where on the timeline of your lives Viktor would once more become your ally. You both found one another in your younger years—when things were simpler. The time in your life where you were starting to be recognized for your mind and him with his mind.

Two intellectuals forged in the fires of the Undercity. At one point in your life this might have felt humorous. Almost ironic.

Now you tried to grasp at what kept the two of you together. Especially since your step back away from the atmosphere of progress.

"I–"

"While you are here, would you mind—uh—looking over the research I have accumulated over the years of your absence?" The notebook he draws from the table beside him is crammed with scraps of paper. The binding was ready to burst at the seams. A sight that so utterly and undeniably the young man you met in the Undercity. "I trust your intelligence more than mine sometimes."

You could recall the hours spent pouring over books, each one filled with information you never thought you'd have the opportunity to learn. They brought the both of you closer to something that he felt would do the world some good. Knowledge was power in Piltover—you simply learned to utilize it for your own good. As a way to escape the past you tried your best to ignore.

Flipping to the first bookmarked page, you attempted to discern his writing. At times it was illegible, but you knew it better than yours. After years of looking at the same scratch marks and symbols, you were able to pick through Viktor's work with ease. Your heart stuttered at the research before you—the truth that rang silently in his hopeful expression.

"You want to find a power source?" you exclaimed, glancing up to see his eyes grow apprehensive.

Of course he would be wary about this. Every line scribbled, each night of hard work, all amounted to his life's legacy. The weight of his name was placed on loose pages and ink that bled between the compact journal. Running your finger over the foreign symbols etched onto each page and margin, you felt their power—the meaning behind each mark made.

"Viktor it's..." You wanted to call this emotion pride but the word felt minuscule given how much effort had been put into this. "Magnificent."

He grinned, settling back with a sigh of relief. "My partner Jayce—who you will meet tonight—has made a remarkable discovery."

"Remarkable is putting it lightly," you cut in, absentmindedly following the curve of the largest rune on the page, marking it in your memory.

Ducking his head, you watched his hands clasp together tightly, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. "I have to do something...that will help."

That much you could understand.

"Ever since I've known you–" Shifting, you felt the skirt of your gown tug upwards—your leg exposed to the slight chill in the evening air. "You wanted to be remembered as a great scientist. Someone whose mind would be their legacy. I think you're closer to that than you think."

He scoffed. "I only told you that to stop the questions."

"About where you came from? Or something else."

The silence gave you enough of an answer. Explanations of his past came with little to no details. Merely stories that were fleeting, sinking beneath the depths long before you got a chance to figure them out entirely. He remained a mystery to you even now. Although...you couldn't say you were any different.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" He leaned closer, his gaze attempting to pry beneath the depths of your mind.

"No," you breathed, catching one last glance at the sky. "It has always been better for my name to die with me."

"That I don't believe."

"No?" His eyes burned into the side of your face. A silent plea to finally let him in on the secret. To spill about the past you couldn't even accept for yourself.

Even as the years passed quicker than you could comprehend, Viktor never changed. Despite his age now surfacing across his face, he still felt familiar with each new slight wrinkle and faint mark that hadn't been there before. Beneath the fancy clothing and grim expression, he was still the boy you once knew. The ravenous scientist with a hunger to know more.

A man on a never ending journey for knowledge.

"You're brilliant," he said. "You always have been. I never quite understood why you chose to only be a..."

"A healer?" He nodded. "I didn't fit into Topside as smoothly as you did."

Whether he wished to admit it or not, the turmoil that tore through his body and mind was there. Hiding beneath the surface. Even as he refused to meet your gaze. Time may have intertwined you with him, but his dreams remained different—his hopes were vast enough to drag him away from the life you once knew.

Where he found the grandeur of a scientist working for someone brilliant, you found solace in your small shop surrounded with various concoctions and potions. A space that let you be the person you were always meant to be.

"You're talented enough to make a name for yourself. If you let me talk to the counsel–"

"No." The word sliced the air swiftly, silencing him with the sharp end of a whip.

He froze, drawing you out of the stupor your mind hastened to put you in. Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted, but you knew if he didn't stop now things would already be too late. Viktor had a tendency to escalate matters far more than necessary. It's why you were hesitant to even take his call—to give him leeway back into your life like this.

"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing through to the depths of your mind.

The answer lay at the back of your tongue—clear and ready to be pronounced with ease. But saying them out loud felt like a feat you'd never be able to manage.

"There are things in my past that are better left where they are," you replied, brushing off the way he looked at you.

A puzzle yet to be figured out. A math problem that held a solution to fix all that was broken.

But that was the thing...you couldn't be fixed. There remained no potion, no herbal remedy that could heal what had torn you to shreds. Who shattered you beyond repair.

Viktor left to pursue his Topside dreams—his pride in himself larger than anything you'd seen. Yet you remained behind. You stayed in the darkness of the Undercity with the promise to one day find him—to celebrate your dreams together. But that was before the battle plans, before you were recruited to help heal those that couldn't heal themselves. Before...him.

When it came down to it, you found yourself in a life far different from the one you dared to imagine with Viktor. The intention to follow him still existed somewhere as a fading dream that might never come true. But once you grew up, saw the world for how it was, you understood why you would never receive the same welcome he did.

You were a soldier first above it all and that was the one thing he would never know.

The secret you held in the confines of your heart.

"My past is the same as yours," he said. "We come from the same land. Surely if they accepted me, they will do the same for you."

You didn't fall in love with the devil.

The words that would never see the sunlight of Topside.

Reaching forward, you pat his knee in a gesture that offered a friendship despite all the secrets. Viktor would do what he wished; you couldn't stop him. That had always been the way of things since you were younger and so it would remain.

Merely two people who once offered to save one another from the bleak aspect of a future ready to eat you alive. Yet now there you were as adults. Sitting close enough to be friends yet miles a part from where you originally started.

You snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him with a reluctant smile. The distaste of keeping him in the dark was pungent in your mouth, but this choice wasn't up to you to decide. It was always a mutual agreement between two people that were forced to be parted. He wouldn't speak about what happened and you'd do the same.

You were always meant to become a ghost of the Undercity and he a ghost of Topside.

Two fates that were never to intertwine again.

"Tell me," you said, moving to the still open balcony doors. "What's your partner Jayce like?"

He straightened in the chair, relief crossing his face at the realization that he hadn't offended you by pushing too far.

"You will like him."

"Oh I don't know about that," you drawled, a sly smile crossing your lips. "Don't you recall the night of the dinner party?"

He cringed as the memory of that disastrous debacle came to mind. You got into it with a certain doctor he befriended—a man with an ego large enough to choke the very air out of any room. The night ended with you unceremoniously chucking your drink into the man's face to save yourself the harsh act of slapping him. You refused to see Viktor for weeks—your own self worth having been burnt to the ground and defiled.

"I did not know he was going to insult you the way he had."

Scoffing, you leaned your back against the balcony railing. "You knew he wasn't good."

"Unfortunately that I did know." He stood on shaky legs, the clack of his cane against marble echoing off the walls as he joined you. "I can promise that Jayce is nothing like that."

"I'll determine that for myself." You sighed, glancing up at a darkened sky—the stars shimmering bright enough to rival the moon. "Besides, dinner is just us, right? Not a surprise interview to induct me into your hall of science. Because as flattered as I am–"

His laughter spilled over into your chest as he nudged your shoulder with his. "There will be no inducting. Not if you don't wish for it."

"Good." The clock across the room ticked away with expedited force—as if speeding up the flow of time to get you out of here. Yet you found yourself longing to stay, to remain in this small bubble. "Does he know who I am?"

"He knows what I've told him."

"All good I hope," you humored him, offering a placating smile that could be mistaken for charm. In the hopes that you'd make it through this night unscathed.

"There may have been a few stories." Swatting his shoulder, you ignored the shift he made towards you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." You clutched the railing behind you until your knuckles hurt, your gut filled with the foreboding dread that came with treading the waters of your past. "I'm perfectly okay," you replied confidently.

Even if the words rang with the transparency of a lie.

Piltover at night held no comparison after witnessing the beauty of sunset. Yet after three glasses of wine and a dinner large enough to feed the village, you felt the thrill of excitement fill your chest at the thought of exploring parts you'd yet to see. Looping your arm around Viktor's you fell into step beside him—mere feet behind Jayce and a woman they introduced as Mel.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in the city knew her name, but for the sake of a peaceful dinner void of any politics, you didn't make that fact obvious.

"It was a nice dinner," you said, the breeze off the water skimming the bare skin of your back.

"We should do it again." His voice remained steady, like a piece of home you never thought you'd get back. His eyes however...screamed something entirely different.

A divot in the road you weren't prepared for—one you didn't see yourself wanting.

"We should," you agreed, finding a spot against the railing. The blue of the ocean gleamed beneath the light of the moon. Truly Piltover at its finest. "Maybe next month?"

The irritated sigh slipped past his lips before he could reign it in, but that was all you needed to understand his intentions. You'd been afraid of this since you came to visit him the very first time. An execrable feeling weighed heavy in your stomach as time went on and his silence prevailed.

He stood beside you now with hope in his heart. The voices of Jayce and Mel faded into the background as they walked further away. And you were left with the friend you never wished to lose—the boy you longed to keep knowing.

"I haven't said—I should have said it already but–"

"Viktor," you interrupted, standing upright.

Suddenly the wine and the excessive amount of food didn't sound like a good idea after all. Your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating through your entire body—each nerve alight and waiting for the worst possible scenario to this outcome. He'd been your oldest friend, someone you counted on when you had no one else and the thought of ruining that left you feeling sick.

Each second he looked at you as if you held all the answers to what he pined for made your heart twist painfully.

With a shaky breath, you finally relented to the truth. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" His cheeks flushed vermilion as he fixed his gaze back to the water.

Shutting your eyes to collect your thoughts carefully, you sighed. "I know what you want me—us—to be and I can't...give that to you."

"Oh."

"I do care for you." Somehow the words echoed with hollow deceit, despite how true they felt in your heart.

"It's because of him."

You reared back, startled. "What?"

His eyes—plagued with sorrow deep enough to slice right through you—met yours waiting for a different answer. An explanation as to where your heart belonged. But you stood as still as stone—unable to form thoughts let alone coherent words. He ripped right down to the bone, pulled at your weak tendons and bit down on frayed nerves.

Yet he wasn't done.

"I'm not oblivious. When you finally came to Piltover you wouldn't tell me about what you did when I wasn't there. I only assumed you had feelings for someone. A man you didn't wish to speak about."

You exhaled slowly—the icy chill of relief swallowing you whole. "Oh...yes I...there was someone."

"Do you still love him?"

Glancing across the water, you glimpsed the bridge standing tall—a beacon of this city's hope for progress. But to your eyes it felt like a separation—a division between the two worlds of your life. One filled with enough pain to leave you staggering where you stool and other...a world of grandeur that overflowed with the option of peace.

At one point you had wanted to watch it burn. His betrayal tainted everything good about that place. A scar carved deep enough to leave an everlasting wound that never healed. You longed to forget it—to rid yourself of the memories he plagued—but you still knew one day...you'd stand upon that same ground again.

"I don't know," you breathed, the past clawing its way up your throat—shoving towards the very front of your mind.

BEFORE

The streets were overrun with people as they moved and flowed like the waves on a shore. You felt shoulders knock into you, exasperated glances thrown your way as you fumbled with the plants still gripped in your hands. They grew at the edge of the bridge—hidden in the shadows as a safeguard from the sun. Dirt packed itself beneath your fingernails, mud coating the thin fabric of your pants from where you dug.

"You should really have that looked at," you grumbled, shoving the plant into your satchel.

Garnering no response, you were left to get lost in your own thoughts. Whether or not he was actually in pain didn't concern you. Not when you had a job given by Vander who insisted you focus solely on healing rather than fighting. It's not as if you entirely disagreed with him—you were more than happy being a healer rather than a soldier—you simply couldn't figure how this would help in the long run.

What exactly were you supposed to do when people acted stubborn and brash?

"What are you writing?" he barked, stopping abruptly. You rammed into him with a sneer.

"Nothing that's of any concern to you." Shoving your pen and notebook into the bag, you watched as he huffed in response, turning away. "I'll tell you again since you seem to be hard of hearing. You should really have your wound–" He stopped, eyes flashing over his shoulder with a glare. “–looked at."

"You sure do talk a lot," he snipped.

"It's a gesture of kindness. You don't have to be an ass about it."

How did you manage to get stuck with this man? You were more than capable of sneaking around the border of Topside without anyone's help. Vander assigning you an escort seemed synonymous with the actions of an older brother being overly protective. Yet you weren't related in any way shape or form—you were simply someone who understood the need for change.

Arguing would get you nowhere and so you did your best to ignore his quick glances. Coming up with a correct judgment for what you found took precedence over the man in front of you.

The heat of the day seeped into your clothes—sticking to your exposed skin—the longer you trekked back. If it were possible to steal some time, you'd search for that small pool you and Viktor used to play at—just to submerge yourself in cold water. But with a guard at your side, you were left with only one option. Dreaming about weather cooler than this.

"You're walking too slow," he called over his shoulder.

The desperation for escape called to you, begged you to leave him behind and go somewhere quiet. But before you could sprint in the opposite direction, he turned. Ignoring him didn't seem to be a well thought out solution, but that never stopped you from trying. Even as he glared at you.

What little sunlight remained began to dip below the horizon—a sight you'd neve grow tired of. If only you had the chance to see it over the ocean with a clear sky above.

"You need that fixed before we return." Avoiding the incensed glare directed your way, you settled on the edge of a wall.

"What I need is for you to keep going. So I can go home."

"Listen—whoever you are—I know that when you return you're going to be questioned about why you're in pain. Either you let me patch up that wound or you get Vander. Your pick."

The arguing ceased with a defiant raise of your brows, lips curling into a sly grin that pinned him where he stood. There really was no other option than submission. What was a quick check before you were on your merry way. Much to your delight, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he joined you on the wall, undoing his vest with an indignant sigh.

Silence filled the empty space between you. Slipping between the cracks and shadows that cast across his angular face. You'd seen him before on the edge of your vision, leaning against the bar with a book in his face—long fingers trailing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you differed.

Where you wanted to roam, he longed to be back making plans with Vander instead of trapped in the task of guard duty for a healer he'd never met before.

"Who shot you?" The glow of sunset illuminated the pale skin beneath his shirt—a long jagged scar etched into the skin threw you off for a moment as your fingers searched for blood.

The sharp wince in his face said you'd found it. "I couldn't see their face."

Nodding, you moved his hand to keep the fabric up and out of the way. A quick rummage in your bag for the salve you made earlier caught his attention—turquoise gleamed in your peripheral, prying you open with enough ease to jar you down to the bone.

"The bullet only scraped you. This should help close it up by the end of the week." You pressed the dark mixture along his wound, catching the subtle flinch he tried to smother. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a whispered tone.

"I can fix it up properly when we return. Get you a real bandage to keep it from getting worse."

You nearly missed it. That slow imperceptible grin that curled at the edge of his lips. But your eyes latched onto it like a kid with candy, savoring the quick glimpse of something surreal. It threw you off balance, forced you to reckon with the thought of never knowing him before today.

Ethereal. Empyrean.

He sat before you a stranger with the eyes of a fond ally. A friend you had yet to be properly introduced to. It seemed he harbored the same thought—his mouth forming the question as if it fell right out of your head and into his lap.

"You're a friend of Vander?" Slipping his vest back on, you noticed he left it unbuttoned.

You found you preferred it that way.

"So are you. I've seen you...uh...with him. Around the bar you know."

The quiet echo of the water lapping at rocks and voices in the distance didn't feel bitter, but rather settled the nerves leaping beneath your skin. It was nice to sit there and watch the night sky show itself to the world once again. Eventually you'd be forced to return to a life that teemed with a clear understanding that hung over everyone's heads. There would be a fight. An inevitable battle for what you believed was right.

But for this transcendent moment you basked in the few moments of peace life allotted you.

The calm before the storm.

"I don't know your name," you admitted, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze already faced in your direction. "Vander never told me."

If he caught you in the middle of a blatant lie, he didn't call you on it. You could tell he saw right through you—the glint in his eyes shining brighter than moments before. This wasn't a clarification for Vander's sake or the battle. You wanted to know his name for yourself. A small token of the man you may never interact with again save for tonight.

After a moment his voice came with a soft breath of air. "Silco."

Teeth dug into your lip to keep the blooming smile at bay. "Silco," you said under your breath.

He latched onto it, dug his fingers into the tangible feeling they created in his chest, and felt a smile pulling wider at his own mouth. You said it again, unable to stop yourself as a thrill of excitement fluttered at the base of your stomach. So simple, so smooth off the tip of your tongue. Yet filled with enough power to stir your chest with a feeling you wished to inspect further.

The lilt of it hung in the air as you turned back to the sky with a satisfied hum, relishing in the time you had left with him at your side.

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ character profiles

rushing to meet your ends and accumulating bills on top of other bills, your bestfriend sunghoon recommends you to his sister's cafe for a job that pays pretty well. between slinging lattes and bantering over burnt pastries, life feels somewhat manageable — until he walks in — a sharply dressed handsome stranger with such a tailored charm built for disarming smiles. your veins ignite like its struck with a triple espresso shot, heart drumming faster than the café’s indie playlist. suddenly, your tending apron feels like a straitjacket, and every customer except him blurs into static. how do you explain this dizzying pull?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — park jongseong x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags— male reader, jay x reader, smau / texting, strangers to lovers, cafe worker!reader, love at first sight, mostly fluff, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes— use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

⋆｡°✩ meet the cast~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ yuu — its you! a hardworking fresh grad sunken low between heavy bills, deadlines, and demanding jobs from sundown to sunset. as a fan of photography, you have a knack to look at beautiful things and appreciating them at the fullest. might be a handy skill in the future?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ park sunghoon — ome of your trusted silent bestfriend from highschool (you were only three people) and is really quiet about his family background. you do know he has a half-sister. could pass as a model, even an idol, but loves to explore local jobs and such. may seem cold at first, but he's just a humble tol boi :3

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ sim jake — or jaeyun. prefers his english name because it's much easier on the tongue. third person on your highschool friendship triangle. a good boi that definitely radiates golden retriever energy. his family owns a famous animal shelter. when he's not busy with cuddling cute animals, he loves bugging you.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ park XXX — or XXX , or XXX? ALSO prefers her english name because it's much easier on the tongue. a thriving businesswoman inheriting a fortune from her retired grandfather. a famous social media sweetheart, XXX runs her trendy cafe 'cupid's lil' cup' at the heart of seoul.

[SOON.]

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ park jay — a critically acclaimed south korean actor, jay works day and night living under the flashing lights. owns a clothing brand of his own, jay is also a bustling business mogul. under the facade of a charming celebrity who has it all, what does the real 'park jongseong' want that he hasn't had yet?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HERE IT ISSSSSS hope you guys stay tuned in hehe~ this is just to give guys some ideas and formulate the next updates on the story. aaaaa can't wait to write the entirety of this!! 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~ 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

[lovelynim]

omggg, congrats on your milestone Fabi, i'm so happy for u <3🪷✨ for the request, uh- may i humbly suggest writing something with lee!Rafayel and ler!Reader? maybe using him as a canvas for real lol- i'm- i'm sorry it's just- ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ🤌🏻

I didn't expect this many Rafayel's fans to show up in such a short amount of time, hahaha

But since you guys want to see him get got so much, who am I to disagree? ~

Also, my apologies to the last anon, but I'm smushing you together with the other two since it's the same characters, hope you don't mind!

Thin, thick, long and soft brushes, all scattered around your canvas. A color palette with different shades of red, yellow and orange, perfect to paint a beautiful sunset. If the canvas in question wasn’t putting so much effort in trying to run away, this would probably be the most peaceful painting session you ever experienced. But as Rafayel, a great and known artist once said, “chaos is a symbol of wisdom, every genius has a messy desk”.

“If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to have to start all over, Rafayel,” you tease him, keeping a firm grip around his wrists while you drag the paintbrush all the way from his forearm down to his ribs, leaving a light yellow trace behind. 

“Sohohomeohohone, hehEHEHelp!! T-thihihis is tohohorturehEHEHE!!” Rafayel cried out as if this was some kind of murder attempt. However, no matter how much he pleaded or begged, his words wouldn’t make it to your heart - not this time, not after testing your patience for so damn long.

You click your tongue, shaking your head, pretending to pity the poor artists. “Torture? This is art, Rafayel. And art is supposed to be felt, right?” You smirked, not caring the least about the fresh drops of paint sliding down your canvas and tainting the floor underneath him. “Now, I think we could use some red here,” you explained calmly while Rafayel watched in horror while you dipped the paintbrush in the red ink and brought it back to your canvas - also known as his bare torso.

“NohoHOHOH!!” He laughed, kicking his feet like a little kid throwing a tantrum, but there was no way you were going to let him go this easy. “Plehehehease! I sahAHahaid I’m sohohorry!”

He twisted and turned his body away, trying to avoid at all costs the brush covered in ink that was dancing over his stomach, tickling his tummy with soft and quick strokes, one after the other, over and over again.

“You should feel sorry for making me work so hard just to paint a little,” you grunted, tightening your grip around his wrists while you circled his navel with the paint brush. With a sadistic look on your eyes, you admired his face - a complete mess of laughter, you could barely tell the drops of paint and the natural blush on his cheeks apart. Cute. “Now, I think we need to add another layer of orange here, the colors are a bit bland…”

“AHahAHAHA, i-it’s goohohohod! N-no mohohore lahahayers!!” He laughed, gasping when you tried to draw a little awkward-shaped sun on his chest. The redness on his cheeks was starting to spread down to his neck, the colors of his skin mixing with the ones from the ink, creating something that actually looked like a sunset - well, maybe if you squint your eyes a little, but still a sunset. 

“Ahaha- p-please!” Rafayel wheezed, dropping his head back into the floor tiredly, trying to catch up his breath. His body trembled, tingling all over. “Y-you should let… t-the ink dry before… continuing…”

With the paintbrush still in your hand, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. 

[amazingmsme]

Restless ‘Til We Reach Home

A Lamb in Wolf’s Clothing (ch. 2)

AN: The long awaited second chapter & thunder saga is heeeere! I was getting ready to post it but stopped in my tracks when the thunder saga trailer dropped & realized how close it was & I knew what I had to do. Gotta say, Odysseus is real mean in this one. But hey, at least Hermes is there to balance it out!

Ch. 1 Ch. 3 Ch. 3.5 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

Polites felt as though he really needed to clear the air with Odysseus, but where to even start?

The captain was nowhere in sight, so he floated around the deck in search of him. He was still trying to get used to his new way of travel, but he liked to think he was getting the hang of it pretty well.

In the underworld, he couldn't fly. Then again, that was a place made for people like him. It was meant as a bastardized recreation of home, to provide the comfort of solid ground and company.

Polites thought back to Hades, and how despite how horrible he thought he looked, there was always someone around the corner who was worse. He had gotten used to the gruesome sights after a while. And as awful as it was to say, seeing them kept him humble. Because yes, things were bad, but at least he didn't have his entrails dragging behind him. Eurydice was one of the few who looked just as beautiful in death as she did in life.

Eurydice...

He wondered how she was holding up. It'd been hours for him since he'd left, but for her, who knows? Had only seconds passed, leaving her on the bank as she wondered what awaited him? Or had it already been a day, the loneliness beginning to set in? Even with the perspective of the real world, Polites found it difficult to gauge the passage of time down there. So wherever she was, however long it had been, he hoped she was doing well.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, inching towards the horizon. It would be dark soon. For now, the light shifted, reflecting off the clouds in vibrant golds and orangey pinks. It was the first sunset of his new life, signaling an end of an era and a new dawn on its way.

Night fell quickly, enveloping them in a blanket of stars and darkness. Polites looked for the moon in the sky, but it was nowhere to be found. Ah, a new moon.

If you were to ask him, he would say that the moonless sky was just as beautiful as a full moon night. He'd started various debates about it with other soldiers, encouraging them to just hear him out. Of course the full moon is beautiful, he never said it wasn't! The new moon may lack her silvery glow, but doesn't her absence make it all the more beautiful when she comes back? The darkness on nights like these provide the most clarity, offering to you all the stars you could ever wish to see.

Most people thought the night sky was only black, but oh how wrong they were. These are the impatient ones: those who never allow their eyes the time to adjust before they give up, going on about their night. But when you lay back and just allow yourself to study the canvas before you, the work of art will reveal itself with bold blues, greens, purples, and yes, even pinks.

Polites floated on his back, hovering mere inches above the deck as he stared up at the sky. By the Gods, how he'd missed it.

He didn't know he'd been crying until he heard heavy steps coming up the stairs, and he frantically wiped them away. He sat up just in time to see who was approaching.

Odysseus let out a startled yelp when he saw his friend's crumpled form lying on the deck, just as he looked before he died.

"Dear Zeus, you scared the shit out of me. What the hell are you still doing here?" he snapped, keeping his distance.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, Captain," he said earnestly. "I-I was just watching the stars. It's such a beautiful night..." he mused, gaze turning upwards once more.

"I didn't mean why are you out here. I mean why didn't you go back to where you belong?" Odysseus asked in a harsh growl.

The warm, soft smile that had found his face was gone in an instant, "W-What?"

"If you're really Polites, you should be in the underworld. Isn't that right?" he cocked his head to the side, taking a threatening step forward.

Polites stared at him in complete and utter shock. "Odysseus... Why would you say such a thing?"

"Answer the question."

"I WAS IN THE UNDERWORLD! You were in the underworld! But- we made it out, together-"

"No, you stowed away," he clarified harshly. "There's a difference." He had backed Polites against the rail, continuing to advance until he was so close, their noses were almost touching.

"I-I thought you'd be happy to see me again!" he cried defensively. There was a flash of sadness, of forlorn longing across Odysseus's face, but it was gone in an instant. Polites continued, "I know I sure was... until you opened your mouth."

Odysseus scowled, "If you really are Polites... and I seriously fucking doubt it, then you have no idea what we've all been through since you left. So I don't much care for your holier than thou judgment."

Holier than thou-

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked, genuine hurt laced in his voice. "That I thought I was better than you?" His voice began to tremble, but he fought against it, although his words still came out in a wavering rasp through his weakened vocal cords. "Because I would never think that." He couldn't believe he actually had to tell him this...

Odysseus didn't speak for a long moment. Despite their close proximity, Polites had never felt farther away from his friend.

"I don't know what to think anymore."

Polites shook his head, eyes flying wide open. "No! Odysseus, you know me! You know better than to think that!" Said man rolled his head to the side, glaring at him from the corner of his eyes.

"Do I now?"

"You should..."

Another long stretch of silence. The only sound was the gentle breeze catching in the closed sails, swaying them about and flapping the fabric. Small waves lapped at the hull of the ship, creating a soothing sloshing sound.

"Yeah well, like I said. Things have changed." He inhaled deeply, letting out a long, suffering sigh. "I really wish I could believe you," he said, eyes closed as he addressed him. He shook his head, the movement barely noticeable. "But I just can't."

"But you can!" Polites reached out instinctively to hold his hand, but Odysseus jerked his arm away before he could. And then he noticed the way he was staring at him, as if he was some kind of threat- some kind of monster.

The captain quickly schooled his emotions, taking a moment to himself before addressing Polites.

"So... what made you follow us?" he finally asked. A hopeful smile broke out on the spirit's face. Maybe he could convince him to see the truth through the haze of paranoia.

"Honestly, it wasn't my idea, but my friend down there, she told me I needed to go. A-and I thought... just maybe... you were looking for me," he admitted shyly, staring at the ground. He didn't like the way he could see through his own feet to the deck below.

Odysseus let out a shaky breath. "I knew it..." This was it!

"You really aren't the Polites I knew."

And just like that, the world came crashing down on him. His eyes were welling with tears fast.

"H-ho-how can you even say that?" he asked as he slowly sank to the floor.

"Because Polites wouldn't be so stupid as to think I'd risk the lives of my crew to rescue a dead man!" he screamed, spit flying from his lips with the passion of his outburst.

Polites took a step back: through the railing. He held his hands out in front of him, as if to protect him. But there's nothing to be protected from anymore. Nothing except the newfound cruelty of his old friend.

Tears threatened to spill over, but he blinked them away, shaking his head frantically. "Nonono, you don't really mean that. Y-you're just upset! Odysseus, please tell me you didn't mean it like that," he all but pleaded.

Odysseus opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself short. He tried once more, but all he could muster was a simple, "I'm sorry." He hesitated before turning his back on him, marching off to patrol the ship.

Polites was left floating there, completely heartbroken by his reaction. Never in a million years would he have expected the venom shooting from Odysseus's mouth to be aimed at him of all people.

Polites let himself fade from reality, disappearing completely as he drifted up towards the crows nest. It had always been the most peaceful place on the ship, and tonight was no exception.

He floated on until he reached the top, sitting down in the tightest ball he could manage. He buried his face in his knees as sobs completely wracked his body.

Why would he say such horrible things? He knew he couldn't even begin to fathom how their journey's gone up until now, but it was hard to believe it would prompt such a dramatic change.

But the alternative; the idea that he had never truly know Odysseus, was a far worse thought.

He looked up at the dozens and dozens of stars stretching before him from every which way. He felt as if he were flying, falling up, spiraling out of control towards them. Would he be falling for an eternity? Or would the stars catch him in their net, allowing the darkness to swallow him whole and consume his soul?

How wonderful it must be, turning to stardust.

"Oh Eurydice... you were wrong. I never should've left." His voice was weak and strangled as he spoke, just as it had been in his final moments. He gasped through his sobs, swallowing the snot that rolled down his throat, making him shudder. His whole body shook with convulsions as he cried.

"They don't w-want me a-around anymore. I'm nothing b-but a f-freak to them," he spoke barely above a whisper, frantically wiping away tears and blood. He hung his head low in defeat and shame, "I should've just stayed in Hades with you."

"And she's what? Girlfriend, friend, come on fill me in," an unexpected voice rudely interrupted. Polites screeched in surprise, turning visible once more as he whipped around to meet the intruder. How the hell did someone climb up without a sound?

"If you'd like, I'll even give her a little message from you," the strange man smirked wider, twirling his long curly hair around a finger. Polites gasped and looked down to the man's feet just to be sure, and just as he thought: wings.

"Hermes? I-I'm sorry, but uh, what are you doing here, exactly?" he asked, his previous breakdown quickly replaced with confusion. Something he did not appreciate. He wanted, no needed to cry after all that. But even the Gods wanted him to suffer, it would seem.

"Well excuse you! Taking a page from the captain's book, I take?" he taunted before bursting into a fit of giggles. Polites stiffened and glared at the God.

"No. I'm just trying to mind my own business, can't you do the same?" he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. Hermes squinted in the dark and gasped when he recognized the man before him.

"You're his little dead friend, aren't you? The one that used to be cute," he clarified in a teasing manner.

Used to be cute... That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Hermes froze, mostly out of fear, when he first saw tears. "Um, what are you doing? Stop that," Hermes ordered, sitting on the edge of the crows nest. Polites looked at him in utter disbelief.

"I'm crying Hermes, what's it look like?" he snapped, and true enough, tears were once again rolling down his cheeks.

"Well, it's not a good look. Nope, doesn't suit you at all, really," he mused, looking the mortal up and down. Polites chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to be patient as he continued to glare.

"Oh really? And what, pray tell, would suit a face like this?" Polites asked bitterly, pointing at himself as he blinked back more tears.

"A smile, for one!" Hermes cheered, plopping down next to Polites and throwing an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close. Polites squirmed and shoved him away angrily.

"Leave me alone! I don't want to smile, okay? There's nothing to smile about! And you know what? Yeah, I'll say it! I was happier in the underworld!" Polites screamed, not caring how loud he was. In fact, he hoped a certain captain with his head up his ass heard him. He hoped the guilt ate him alive.

Polites hated the fact that he didn't really feel that way, that he was self aware enough to know it was just his anger talking. Because once it blows over, he'll be the one wracked with guilt.

Hermes reeled back from his words, a hand flying up to cover his mouth as he gasped in shock.

"Oh Polites, you shouldn't say such a thing! I mean, what if the Gods themselves heard you? Ahahaha!" he threw his head back, cackling at his own joke.

"I don't care anymore! Clearly I don't belong here! I-I should've just stayed..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was such a touché subject," Hermes apologized, seemingly meaning it. Polites remained skeptical. "But I'm truly shocked by your little outburst. You were always the happy one, were you not? So what's changed?"

"Everything!" Polites cried. "Are you blind? How can you not see that everything's gone to shit?"

"Careful now, don't forget who you're talking to," he warned through pursed lips, trying to hide his growing amusement.

Polites sighed in defeat. "I'm sorry Hermes, sir, but I don't really care right now."

Hermes shook his head, a small frown etching its way onto his face. "Oh my, this really is worse than I thought," he muttered to himself, resting a hand on his cheek. Polites couldn't help but roll his eyes and turn away.

"Tell me something I don't know..."

Hermes sighed, staring at the back of his head with pity. "Odysseus can be... stubborn at the best of times. He'll come back around. You just have to show him that same, chipper, adorable Polites he knows and loves," he tried to encourage him.

"But that didn't work..." he said, voice shy and meek.

"Oh! Um, well then... keep at it!" he chirped, slapping a hand on his back.

Polites was more than ready to tell him to get lost, but the touch on his back stole away all of his attention. He turned to meet Hermes face to face, eyes wide in a mix of shock and excitement.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

Polites gestured at him wildly. "You just touched me! I mean like, actually touched me! I thought that was impossible!" Hermes opened his mouth to speak, but he rambled on, "Is that a God thing? Or can-"

"Shh, if you'll let me answer, I'll tell you!" he said before breaking off into giggles. Polites quickly shut up, hanging on his every word.

"It all comes down to intent. And, it works both ways. Here, shake my hand," he explained, offering holding it out for him to take. Polites looked at him skeptically before reaching out.

He tried to grasp his hand in his own, but phased completely through. "This is hopeless!" he whined in defeat. Hermes whistled and smacked him upside the head.

"Ow!" Polites yelped and flinched away, rubbing his head, more for show than anything. Hermes rolled his eyes at the dramatics.

"Oh please, I know that didn't hurt. Quit whining and try again." Polites grumbled under his breath, growing frustrated when he phased through once more.

"Try harder."

"I am!" he growled before taking a grounding breath. He tried again, and this time his hand firmly clasped around Hermes's wrist. A bright smile lit up his face as he met his gaze, "I-I did it!"

"Yeees, congratulations... You can let go now..." he prompted with a smirk.

"Sorry!" he immediately let go, yanking his arm back as if he'd been burned. Hermes chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"You're lucky it's me," he teased, breaking off into even more laughter. Polites couldn't help but giggle along with the infectious sound.

"I guess I am... So uh, t-thanks, for all that. I needed it."

"Desperately so," Hermes agreed. "But I single handedly saved the day, so you're welcome."

Polites snorted, "I wouldn't go that far, but you did make me feel a little better." Hermes cocked his head with an exaggerated pout.

"Aww, just a little? Are you sure about that?" he asked, and before he could answer, Hermes reached up to flutter a few fingers under his chin. Polites scrunched his neck with a barely choked back giggle, and the look he gave the messenger God was priceless. Hermes burst into hysterical giggles, flashing a sly grin his way, "Like I said Polites, it all comes down to intent."

He fished around in his bag, pulling out a gold drachma. "Catch," he said, tossing the coin his way. Polites reached out, snatching it in the air. Hermes gave an impressed grin, nodding in approval. "I expect you to practice. 'Til we meet again, ta-ta!" he waved farewell, hopping up on the edge of the crows nest and stepped off backwards. He swooped up in a backflip, definitely showing off as he flew away.

Polites stared at the coin in his hand, smiling softly. Maybe things would turn out okay.

~~~

Things always seemed better in the morning, Polites told himself. In the light of day, he would have a fresh start, a unique perspective. He just needed everyone else to come to terms with their new normal. So he went about the day like any other, floating down to the deck when the crew was called for breakfast.

He saw the few men spread out across two long mess tables, and he quickly spotted Eurylochus. He smirked and turned invisible, making his way over to him. He waited until he reached for his glass, and Polites placed his hand atop the cup, preventing it from being lifted.

Eurylochus stared at the cup with furrowed brows, giving it another tug. It barely budged under his hold. He looked around the table at the men around him, wondering if they had something to do with this. A few began to take notice and were just as confused as he was.

"Having a bit of trouble this morning?" Elpenor teased from across the table.

"Haha very funny," he said sarcastically, tugging on his glass one more time. Polites didn't fight back, and water splashed right in his friend's face. Anyone seated around Eurylochus had ended up in the splash zone as well.

The men who got drenched cried out angrily while everyone else erupted in wild laughter, and Polites joined them. But his laugh was loud and distinct, and a sound Eurylochus knew all too well.

He froze looked around the room, glaring at thin air. "Polites? Was that you?" he dared to ask. The unruly crowd suddenly grew silent, unsure if they wanted an answer. Then, a fork launched off of a plate, spinning in the air before it clattered to the table. Excited screams and cries broke out as some gathered around the fork, while the rest scattered as far away as possible.

"You think it really is him?"

"He answered us, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but what if it's a trick?"

"You're all playing with fire!

Not everyone was swayed, but it certainly planted the idea in their minds.

Polites liked pulling off these small, ghostly pranks. Mostly because, to him, it felt like magic. Just focus, and you can turn invisible. Focus even harder, and you can make things move. He had his favorite tricks of course: a self rowing oar, a lone mop swabbing the deck, but the funniest thing was when he'd hold something behind someone, only to hide it as soon as they turned around. And his audience seemed more than amused by all of this.

Up until the moment he decides to show his face again. Then it's all hushed whispers and adverted gazes, even from his best friends.

Elpenor frantically looked around his room for his other sandal. It had just been there a second ago, but now only one remained.

"O-okay, very funny. Now give it back," he demanded. He gasped and went stiff when he felt the mattress sink next to him, as if someone sat next to him. The temperature shifted.

"Looking for this?"

Elpenor chanced a glance in his direction. His missing sandal dangled from a mostly transparent hand. He gulped.

"Yes."

He reached for his shoe, but it was yanked out of reach at the last second, and again when he made another grab for it.

"Give it!"

"Then look at me!"

The request took Elpenor off guard. Polites sounded... desperate and sad. He had to look, no matter what the captain said. He wasn't here anyways.

He hesitated, but ultimately caved and looked at Polites. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

Polites was smirking at him, a warm look in his glazed eyes. Yeah, he didn't look the same, but he still looked like himself. A sob caught in Elpenor's throat.

He snatched his sandal without warning, quickly lacing them up before rushing out of the room.

~~~

"I don't get it Eurylochus. Are they really that afraid of me?" Polites asked after five days of strategic avoidance from everyone on board. He took a deep breath, thinking about how he'd answer the question.

"Maybe so." Polites scoffed and looked him up and down.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, deciding to put him on the spot. He stiffened, keeping his gaze trained on the floor, and he didn't speak. Polites deflated, "I knew it."

"Polites, trust me, it isn't like that," he tried in vein to reassure him.

"Oh please. None of you can even look at me," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Have you even seen yourself?" Eurylochus barked back, going on the defensive immediately. Polites floated a little lower to the ground, bottom lip trembling.

"Polites, wait-"

"No, no, I get it. I wouldn't want me around either."

Eurylochus had to force himself not to roll his eyes at the theatrics on display. This was typical for Odysseus, but Polites?

"I didn't mean it like that."

He looked up at him, and for the first time outside of battle, Eurylochus saw him look truly upset.

"There's not many other ways to take it, Eurylochus..."

Neither dared to speak for a long time. Polites took a shaky breath and finally broke the silence. "I guess I'll be seeing you around. But... you don't have to worry about seeing me," his voice sounded weak and strangled.

"Wait I'm-" Eurylochus spun around to stop his friend, but he was left alone on the deck. "Sorry..." he finished lamely, dropping his arm by his side.

He flinched when a hand squeezed his shoulder, but immediately relaxed after the initial surprise.

"It's okay, really. I-I think it's for the best if no one sees me for a while," he said, and despite being invisible, Eurylochus could hear the emotion in his voice.

"Are you sure?"

"M-mhm. I think if I stay, it'll just make things worse."

Eurylochus stared at the empty space the voice was coming from. "If you say so..." he reluctantly caved.

Barely anyone had seen Polites since. Sure, he made his presence known in other ways, and most of the crew seemed better off for it. But that's what hurt the most: he'd been right. Eurylochus was wracked with guilt, knowing it was their own reactions that drove him away. Even worse still, their captain didn't seem to care at all. In fact, it only seemed to upset him more with every interaction Polites attempted.

He stood behind Odysseus as he steered the ship. The men were gathered below deck for meal time, leaving the two of them alone for a rare moment.

"I know you're there."

"You should go down there. You need to eat too, y'know."

Odysseus couldn't help but roll his eyes. "What, and let you take the wheel?" Polites furrowed his brows.

"Would that really be so bad? I handled her plenty of times!"

"No, the real Polites did!" he snapped. For once, Polites snapped back, refusing to back down.

"I AM THE REAL POLITES!" he screamed, on the verge of tears. Odysseus merely gave him a cold, empty stare.

"Maybe if you were the first one we ran into down there, I could believe you," he admitted in defeat. There was something a softness behind his eyes that hadn't been there before, his shoulders heavy with grief.

"What will it take?"

"Huh?"

"Tell me what it'll take to prove myself," he pleaded.

They stared at each other for a long moment, seconds passing by in silence. "I don't think you can."

Polites refused to let it end like this.

"Your favorite color is red," he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Odysseus froze and turned to face him, a puzzled expression in place. He locked eyes with him and continued, "And your favorite food is Penelope's stew with fresh baked bread."

By now, Odysseus knew what he was trying to do, so he quickly closed his eyes in hopes of drowning him out. "Don't."

"You have a mole on your shoulder that looks like a comet, a-and you like sunsets more than sunrises, and you used to go pick flowers for Penelo-"

"Please, for the love of the Gods, just shut up!" he cut him off harshly. Polites snapped his mouth shut, obeying the command. Odysseus slowly opened his eyes and stared at his friend. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked as tears finally spilled down his cheeks.

"I just want you to believe me," Polites insisted. Odysseus shook his head.

"I told you, I can't-"

"WHAT WILL IT TAKE?" he repeated, voice straining against crushed vocal chords. He was crying, and he didn't care if he was shouting. "You say you can't believe me, but you don't give me a fucking reason! And you won't tell me how I can win your trust back, and I just- I don't know what you want from me."

Odysseus thought long and hard about his answer. "I wish I could tell you."

"Then why don't you?" he pleaded.

Odysseus avoided looking directly at him, choosing instead to stare at a crack in the wall just over his shoulder. It was insulting how he thought Polites wouldn't notice.

"I don't know." Then, as if to add insult to injury, he marched straight ahead, walking right through Polites. It was just another way for Odysseus to assert the fact that he wasn't really "there." To prove to himself that he was right. And that hurt more than it had any right to.

But he was nothing if not persistent. When it became clear that Odysseus wasn't looking for a conversation, he thought maybe a few light hearted pranks were just what he needed to jog his memory, to open his fucking eyes and see that he was right there.

Polites could've sworn he saw him smile when he noticed the way he was making his cape billow behind him. The old Odysseus was still in there somewhere, no matter how hard he may be hiding.

But he was still more than skeptical.

~~~

Odysseus was making his way down to his quarters when he felt someone step on the back of his sandal. He turned around in annoyance, ready to chew out the culprit, but he was alone. He thought nothing of it and continued on his way. Then it happened again.

Odysseus sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back. "That you?" he asked in a disgruntled tone.

"What, can't even say my name?" he sassed in order to hide his true nerves when confronting his friend. He appeared behind him, arms crossed.

"Not sure it's really yours to say," he countered easily, the retort sliding off his tongue with ease. The smile he flashed him was cocky and vindictive; nothing like the way he used to grin at him.

Polites decided to go out on a limb and risk it, "Why are you so adamant it's not me?"

"Because if something's too good to be true, it is. But you know all about that, don't you?" he spat, words laced with poison. No, no, there was no way he was talking about that.

"Captain? What do you mean?"

"Oh I think you know," he said darkly. Polites didn't dare to answer. He only shook his head.

"The sheep, Polites. I'm talking about the sheep."

Polites couldn't believe his ears. He sucked in a sharp, shuttering breath in shock. "A-are you trying to say it's my fault that I was killed?" he asked in complete and utter disbelief.

"... If that's how you wanna take it."

He had no hope of fighting off the tears welling in his eyes.

"H-how can you be so- so cruel? It was a mistake!" he pleaded.

"Yeah? Well that mistake cost you your life! And not just your life! You think you can greet world with open arms, but you just can't. Only the strongest survive. And that's why I'm still here, and you're not."

The tears rolled fat and heavy down his cheeks, drawing clean streaks through the blood and grime smeared on his face.

"I-if that's how you r-really f-feel, then fine! B-be that way!" Polites was a blubbering mess as he tried to speak, and he couldn't stand it. He balled his hands into fists by his sides, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as possible. "Y-you'll never have to see me again, if that's what you really want!" he screamed back, allowing his own hurt and anger to boil out of him.

"Good!" Odysseus snapped, completely exasperated.

Polites was frozen in shock. "I don't even know you anymore..." he whispered, mostly to himself. Odysseus glared harder before he turned his back on him, marching down the hall to his cabin and slammed the door behind him. Polites was left alone in the room, feeling hollow and hurt.

Polites took a shaky breath. Why bother to fight a losing battle?

~~~

If barely anyone had seen Polites in the days prior, then he must have made himself truly scarce after his last confrontation with the captain. The playful, if unexplained, shenanigans were no more, and the crew fell back into their monotonous routine.

But remaining invisible for so long takes its toll, and he needs his moments of peace and quiet. And so, the crew took notice of the man sitting alone in the crows nest, his presence never faltering. At least this way, he can still be of some use to the crew while completely isolating himself.

By now, Polites hadn't moved from the crows nest in over a week. Even his practice with the coin was getting weaker. He sat with his knees pressed to his chest, desperately trying to shove the drachma across the planks. His finger phased through, making no impact on the piece of gold.

"How have you possibly gotten more pathetic than the last time we met?"

Fucking great.

[lixenn]

BUSTING INTO UR ASKBOX WHILE READING THRU DAVE'S PROFILE!! Lix!! Dave and Yui's bdays are one day apart sjvfhsvfsvf this coincidence is so funny 🤣🤣

Since he likes sunsets, I wonder if he likes the sea too? The sunsets are very beautiful when viewing it from the beach (asked by someone who just got back from a trip to the beach)

Because he has a lot of piercings, I wonder if he's interested in getting tattoo too?

Not a question, but reading this --- Dave simply turned up at Varia’s front door with a cheerful: “Heard you were hiring?” --- made me laugh, because I remember the snippet that you wrote about how Dan met Dave and it still makes me laugh a lot 😆😆 (PLUS !!! “I can use this guy to avoid talking to people!” DAN IS SO REAL FOR THIS!!! HE'S SO BASED UR HONOR!!)

Is there any latest hot boiling tea that Davey-boy can share with us in the class right now?

Mammon knows a lot about people huh. I wonder what Dave's relationship with Mammon is like? How does Dave interact with Mammon, knowing (if he knows) that Mammon knows background info that he hides?

Would he dye his hair as rainbow-colored for Pride Month---

EIN! BELOVED! Thank you for visiting my humble abode, always lovely to have you here 💕✨

I have managed to get this ready for Dave's birthday!

Happy birthday Davey-boy! Hope you and everyone else likes some more Dave info hehehehe

Sunset and sea

As someone whose life has been grey and dull for a long time, Dave adors colours in all shape or form, so yes he loves the sea, loves how it can glitter and reflect. The different shades of blue also appeal to him. Just colours my friend. It's a small joy for him but a joy nonetheless.

Tattoos

Is Dave interested in tattoos? Yes. Does he trust anyone enough to actually give him one? Not really. Dave has done most of his piercings by himself (which Davey-boy... no...) but tattooing himself is certainly more difficult then simply stabbing a sanitised needle through his ear. He loves the idea of body art though and he keeps drawing tattoo ideas on his paperwork (much to Chief's chargin).

Also since we are at the topic of tattoos, I'm just going to sneakily mention this for the people who aren't in the discord or haven't read my Chief/Squalo sparring snippet:

Chief has tattoos! And he actually has a lot of ink. All of it is nature based and all of it is hidden under his clothing, so at the moment in the Varia only Luss (who is his doctor) and Mammon (because Mammon knows all) know about the tats. Dave is in for a surprise when he finds out hehe. (Dave already thinks that Chief is super cool, but now he has tattoos??? No fair~ He will need to increase his mischief factor by one hundred to balance it out.)

Dan the introvert

Dan knows what's up lol. While Dani-boy can talk to people when necessary he tries to avoid it as much as possible because it sucks his energy like nothing else and he already doesn't have much energy to begin with. Also Dan might be quite observant but he sometimes doesn't get subtext and takes sometimes a bit to literal, which can lead to much frustration and hilarity. So he prefers leaving the people thing to Dave who's a social butterfly and thrives under attention.

Mammon and Dave

Dave doesn't like Mammon, at all. Honestly, it's more fear than dislike that's bothering him, because Dave knows how much power information can hold, it's one of his specialites after all. So while Dave is aware that Mammon won't reveal anything about his past unless someone goes looking for it and is willing to pay an obscene amount of money for the info, he still treats Mammon with a healthy dose of respect. He actually tries his best to avoid dealing with him and Mammon is one of the few people he tries not to prank directly.

Rainbow hair

Dave would definitely dye his hair rainbow coloured for pride month. He would burst into Luss' room on the first of June (probably when the clock rings midnight lol) and demand that his hair needs to be taken care of now.

The Tea

Now, the tea is the reason why answering this took so long, because dear Ein, once again, I have written a snippet! Rejoice! (Thanks so much to @unwrathful @childe-of-saulot for helping me brainstorm and also thanks to my dear buddy @myrmyrtheorca for solving my naming problems 🫡💕✨)

---

Dave kicks Vlasta's door open with cheerful aplomb. "Have you heard?!"

His friend doesn’t even have the decency to look up from cleaning their knives at his fabulous entrance. "You violating my privacy? Sure did."

"Like you even know the definition of that word. You were literally fucking someone in bright daylight yesterday."

"It's the principle of the matter, D." They finally put away their collection of all things sharp and pointy just to grace him with a simple blink. “Now, what’s the tea and where the hell are the snacks?”

A grin creeps on his face as he presents the chocolate covered strawberries he stole from the kitchen like they are a tribute to the gods. “I came prepared.”

The offering is scrutinized for a moment before Vlasta nods in acceptance. “You pass, but you are on thin ice.”

Dave fully skips into their domain and is greeted with the full force of the tantalizing scent of plum and cherry hiding the metallic taint of blood that has etched itself into the foundation of the walls ever since Vlasta claimed this room as their own. He places the strawberries on the nightstand next to the candles and bones, then bounces onto the four-poster bed that wouldn’t have been out of place in a film set of a dark historical drama which features witches, blood sacrifices and ritual sex. The dark red satin sheets flow smooth and cool over his skin, a stark contrast from the humid summer heat.

Dave hums lazily. “You always had great taste in decor. Less so with your partners though.”

His words are met with a pointed kick to the ribs. “Fucking- OW! What was that for?” He quickly scoots out of kicking range, rubbing the sore spot on his side. “This is abuse! Mistreatment! Bullying!”

“Talk shit, get shot,” Vlasta smirks, plucking a strawberry from the container. “Count yourself lucky that I put my knives away or this could have ended in a bloodbath.”

“But you like bloodbaths!”

“Not on my good bedsheets, idiot.” Vlasta plops the fruit into their mouth and moans in a way that would turn a porn star green with envy. “Now spill the tea before the day’s over. Chop chop.”

Dave brightens. “Okay, so I was staking out make out closet, as one does.” Vlasta nods along like this is a reasonable way to spend one’s free time. There’s a reason why they are best friends. “And guess who walked out of there?

Vlasta indulges his theatrics. “Who?”

“Sofia!”

“Sofia Nardi?” His friend tilts their head like a curious bird. “Douchbag’s girlfriend Sofia? That Sofia?“

“Yup! And she wasn’t alone.” Dave waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Ollie followed soon after.”

Vlasta perks up, finally gifting him the entire weight of their attention and he basks in it. Yes, he always has the best gossip, thank you very much.

Another strawberry disappears between black tainted lips. “Sofia and ol’ Ollie. They fucked?“

“Oh, totally.”

“Huh,” a slow blink, followed by a sadistic smile, “good for her. Does the Douchebag know?“

“Nope,” Dave answers, popping the p for maximum obnoxious effect. “Completely in the dark”

The smile turns into a full-blown smirk. “Excellent.”

Dave‘s expression mimics the grin on his best friend’s face, vindictiveness filling him by proxy.  Sofia’s (ex?) boyfriend Alberico Ordelaffi commonly known as the Douchebag is what one could call a traditionalist. In short: he’s strictly religious, massively sexist and completely full of himself. The only time he stops sucking his own cock is when he’s bragging about his prestigious lineage or insulting your lack thereof. Vlasta with all their… Vlastaness is naturally offending Douchebag’s delicate sensibilities which results in a largely one-sided rivalry that involves a lot of holy water and failed exorcisms. So, any misfortune falling upon him needs to be fully savoured and sampled.

Speaking of savouring, Vlasta already decimated the strawberry offering during his retelling leaving nothing left for him which ... yeah, that tracks. But he still wanted a taste! His friend can be so stingy sometimes.

Well, there are other ways to be fed...

“Now,” Dave risks edging a tiny bit closer to them. “Since I delivered you both juicy strawberries and gossip, I deserve a reward, yes?”

Vlasta doesn’t even hesitate in shooting him down. “I’m not telling you what Chief and I discuss when we’re alone.”

“Oh c’mon! What more could you possibly want?”

The stare he is given runs shivers down his spine. Vlasta has a way of looking right into your soul, dissecting you with a simple gaze. People often fear them because of their appearance, their fondness of blood and flesh but Dave fears their ability to stand back and watch far more. They pick up the smallest of hints that let’s them solve humans like puzzles and the only reason why Dave ever let them close is because he can recognize his people, see the same cracks that plague him day in and day out. It doesn’t change the fact that he’d prefer not being perceived and now he gave them an opening.

“Well, my dear friend.” Their voice was raspy, a near seductive purr. “How about your name?”

Dave freezes. Nobody asks after his name. The scars are questioned more often than he could count. Same for his family and body count. But his name? Nobody bothers asking after names in the Varia. Not with how the organisation collects weirdos like the most fucked up circus. You might snoop behind somebody’s back, but you don’t talk about it in person. It just wasn’t done.

Leave it to Vlasta to not give a single fuck about etiquette and social norms.

Dave sighs. “I’d rather not.”

The predatory aura persists for one more second until his friend simply shrugs like they were asking after the weather rather than one of his close kept secrets. “Shame. Names hold a lot of power. But no name, no deal, Davey-boy. Them’s the rules.”

The mood brightens considerably at the nickname. Teasing and banter, he can do. Way better than digging up pieces of his past best left forgotten.

Time to turn the brattiness to the max.

“But I wanna knoooow.” Dave gives them his best rendition of a kicked puppy.  “How can you just hoard the Chief insider info? The inhumanity! The cruelty!” He adds crocodile tears for dramatic effect. “Share the goods, V. I need all the dets. Well actually, I need to study Chief under a microscope, but I will accept second hand knowledge for now.”

Unsurprisingly, Vlasta isn’t moved by his act in the slightest, in fact they don’t budge an inch. "Your obsession with our boss is fascinating. Have you considered fucking him to get it out of your system?”

He pouts: "I offered! Well, Luss and I offered but he refused."

"Skill issue."

"Oh fuck off, how often did he reject you? Five times? Six?" He leans into Vlasta’s personal space, leering and teasingly poking their cheek. “Losing your touch V?”

“You’re about to lose a finger if you don’t remove it from my person, dickhead.” Their eyes gleam red and Dave immediately backs off.

Fuck. Pushed too much.

Touch and Vlasta can be ... tricky at times. Initiating contact always involves some risk. It's like a gamble where the odds change at a whim and clearly Dave lost this time around.

He scrambles off the bed, holding his hands up in surrender. He tries for a smile but it came out as an awkward grimace instead. "Sorry 'bout that."

The red in their eyes dims but doesn't disappear. Vlasta nods, accepting the apology but not stating forgiveness.

Yeah, this calls for a strategic retreat.

He tiptoes closer and closer to the door. "I'll see you around?" The confidence leaves him at the last minute turning his statement into a question.

Vlasta licks off the chocolate on one of their fingers, steadily holding eye contact because they are a fucking weirdo. "Until next time."

Oh, thank god. Friendship saved.

---

Ngl not totally satisfied with the ending but it will do >.< this got so long and surprisingly deep but I like how it protrays Dave's and Vlasta's realtionship.

[canarycolemine]

Vignettes of Paradise

Vignette III

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x Original Female Character

Summary: Copia gazed up at his official portrait, how lonely it looks without his love. His love, however, is in quite the sour mood. Even if she doesn’t see it, his love for her is always visible.

Warning: slightly suggestive material

AO3 Link!

Copia had treasured watching the sunset from his luxurious office. A far cry from the cramped office from his Cardinal days. Designed to his humble preferences, with small luxuries - dark, oak wood and rich brown leather couches, chairs, and royal blue curtains, pillows and accents throughout the room. Over the beautiful dark fireplace, his portrait commanded the room.

He objected to his portrait being in his office, something about seeing himself constantly, watching over his actions felt like vanity and generally unnerving. However, the upper clergy reminded him that, indeed, vanity is a sin. In case he forgot what sort of church he was leading.

As he gazed at the portrait, he longed for the day when the painting came down and updated.

How beautiful the portrait would be once his Evie joined him. Could the artist capture the way the sun shined in her eyes - showing the complexities of her eyes? Would it catch the perpetual flush to her cheeks? Oh how he hoped they would.

One day, he would not be worried about his visage watching his work; his lover would watch over him.

Lost in thought at the portrait, Evie stormed into the room, immediately alerting Copia that something was wrong. How sweet she normally was, now utterly grumpy!

Her nose scrunched as she planted herself on Copia’s couch. Copia had learned better than to comment on how adorable she looked when she was mad. Still, though, her sour mood worried him.

“My love, what’s wrong?” He asked, sitting next to her.

“Oh!! I’m so mad!” She started. “And no advice right now, I just need to be heard.”

“You have my word, tell Papa what’s wrong.”

“All day long! People have been staring at me! At the infirmary people would not look me in the eyes, but they wouldn’t stop staring at me! It was infuriating. And when I talked to Diana, she did it too.” She began, already raising her voice.

“I asked her, ‘what, do I have something on my face?’ And she was like, ‘nope, not at all, Evie.’ And then she laughed. I was just so busy, I had no time to think, but every time I spoke to someone or walked past someone, they would just stare at me. Then they would start giggling and someone said, ‘hey Evie, how’s old Papa doing?’ What does that have to do with my face!”

“Evie…” Copia began to interject.

“No, I’m not done.” She said, smiling only a flash, reassuring him that she was certainly not frustrated with the aforementioned Papa! “And I love you so very much, obviously, but I would hate to think that people think I get everything I want here just because we’re, you know, boyfriendgirlfriend.”

“Oh amore! That is not true!”

“How do I know that, I can’t ever tell what people are thinking. And why do they see my face and immediately think of you!”

“Perhaps, ah sorry, are you ready for the advice?” Copia hesistated.

“Maybe, but what could you say that would help me understand what people are thinking?”

“Eh, maybe I could show you?”

Copia grabbed her hand, hoisting her up, as they headed to their shared bedroom. Evie had a confused expression at the sudden change of scenery.

“Copia, why are we going over to the bedroom?” Evie became even more confused, convinced that fucking would not really help her mood.

“No more words, amore. Just follow me.”

He led her to the en-suite bathroom, guiding her, holding her hand.

Before they stepped much further into the bathroom, he paused, turning to her.

“I know why the siblings were staring at you all day. And it’s not because of your radiant beauty, although it stops me dead in my tracks. It is not because we are involved, and certainly, you are not given any advantages simply because of that. You work very hard, Evie, do not discredit yourself.”

A pout grew on her face, as her eyes began to well. He gently guided her into the room, turning her towards the mirror. Evie half expected a lesson in self-love. But as she began to take in her reflection, she saw the two of them. She was still dining her habit and veil, but she took in her face.

Her eyes immediately followed to her forehead.

“Oh.” She quietly said. Her expression changed suddenly.

Squarely on her forehead, a prominent black kiss mark was unmissable.

“Oh.” She repeated.

She recalled Copia kissing her forehead this morning; she was running late and left just as Copia was finishing his paints for the day.

Copia was sure that Evie would eventually wipe away the mark. But alas, here it remained, a half a day later. In pristine condition. She didn’t even notice it.

“Oh, I am not very smart, copia.”

“Ah, of course you are, my Evie! You have said it before, you have book smarts and maybe less of the street smarts.”

Evie giggled for the first time in hours.

“Perhaps when we make our clergy portrait, you can have a little kissy mark on your forehead, then, too, heh?”

“Oh you wouldn’t dare!” She teased back.

That evening, Copia ensured that she had plenty of matching kiss marks all over her body.

[agapestricken]

[ Curious questions for the muse (🍁): - What is Ana's ideal last meal? - What is Ana's idea of a perfect day? - Does Ana have a preferred time of the day and why? ]

AHHH, okay... let me first begin this by saying thank you very much for the ask! i really appreciate it, jonathan :) these are honestly really good questions and ones i haven't thought much about until now... so, it should be good to have the chance to delve deeper into ana's character like this!! but to answer your first question, this one may need a bit of elaborating, but goddd's - if anastasiy had the chance to choose what he last ate then it would most definitely be russian mushroom and potato soup. now, i know that some of y'all may not be familiar with it because unlike things like beef stroganoff and pierogis, its not very talked about BUT trust me when i say its good.

this is just a little photo of what it looks like just for those who aren't very familiar with it:

now, as i was saying before, i do think that this one will benefit from a little bit of elaborating because i realize that it might seem a bit random — but i chose this dish as the one ana would choose as his last meal because this soup was one that anastasiy's mother would make for him consistently when he was sick or when he was feeling down as a child. so, ana associates it with comfort almost instinctively and when i say mushroom and potato soup as a result, i don't just mean just anyone's recipe BUT viktoriya's (his mother's). because even though the ingredients might be the same all around for this dish, no one could make it like viktoriya to ana... you know?

hers was just naturally special and every single time he has it, its like anastasiy can feel the love she has for him as well as their family through it. so that would be his ideal last meal ❤️ now whenever it comes to his idea of a perfect day, this may seem a bit cliché, but any day where he'd get to spend a majority of his time with his daughter as well as his mom and perhaps even his brother (though they're currently on the outs because of an argument they had. however, i feel like this just makes the idea of being able to spend time with kolya even more appealing) are 'perfect days' to him. it doesn't matter what the weather is — whether its dreary, or sunny outside — or what they're doing in all honesty to ana.

like i previously mentioned, all that matters is that they're together. but OOH, for the last question, as for whether ana has a preferred time of day and why? i think that he has learned to really embrace the time period in which the sun is just starting to set or dusk especially because he lives in a more rural area of gotham. this means that he sometimes sees fireflies come out and there are people who own farms near him full of flowers, as well as crops. so the fact that he has gotten the opportunity to look through them at the sunset through all these cascading colors is just... UGH. its amazing, in his humble opinion, okok LOL

so like, if another person's muse ever gets the chance to spend the night at anastasiy's house, i would say to totally take it because not only is there beautiful sights to look at such as the sunset itself but animals such as fireflies, owls, and deer come out around this time when you wouldn't otherwise be able to see them very often (especially considering ana lives in a rural area). so yeah (': i hope this answered your questions, my friend, and thank you again for the ask!

[thephantomtheory]

A small note,

So as SnK is now officially ending, I just have a few thoughts I’d like to share — and in many ways, this is a thank-you note. I feel like this is a place where I can do that and no one will pass judgment on me for feeling so attached to a story (and forgive me, as I’m feeling very sentimental). So thank you, if you decide to read what I’ve written below. 

I was just 13 when I watched Attack on Titan for the first time, all the way back in 2013/2014. I remember my friend introducing me to it and I can still remember sitting on my bedroom floor while she showed me the first episode. Back then, it was such a different show. Or at least, we didn’t know that the story which was unfolding before us could only be told for the first time, once. There is no going back. Once you learn the truth of it, you can only return to realize that it was always this way, the signs were all there — you just didn’t know how to read them. What a way to tell a story. What a way to build a character, with that same approach. 

It’s been 10 years and my love for SnK has only grown as I have. I was 13 then, I’m almost 23 now, and so much has changed. Within all that change, I’ve always been able to revisit these beloved characters as every new chapter or season released. Despite the horrors they’ve endured, I found comfort in their perseverance. I grew up with them, and so as a new graduate, in which I’m watching my childhood sunsetting before me, it makes it twice as hard to say goodbye to them now. Sure, the manga ended 2 and 1/2 years ago, but there is such a sense of finality now that the anime is coming to a close as well. 

SnK is a masterpiece. In my opinion, it is one of the most brilliantly crafted stories I’ve ever read, and trust me — I’ve read a lot. As a writer, I look to stories, in any medium, as a foundation from which to build my own. I will look to SnK over and over again as a model for my own characters, my own arcs, and mostly as a way to answer the question: How do I tell the story I need to tell in a way that matters? Because at the end of the day, no matter how many flaws are littered within the pages of SnK, the story that’s being told matters. It matters to me, and I know it matters to so many of you, too. 

In many ways, the characters from SnK are my heroes. Truly, I often find myself wondering if I am acting with empathy and compassion the way Levi does. If I am able to grow and lead the way Jean does. If I’m allowing myself to be me, shamelessly, the way Hange does. I think about my relationship with my brother, and I think about Connie and Sasha — two halves of a whole. I try to love wholly, and fervently like Mikasa. I try not to doubt my abilities, the way I know Armin does so often and shouldn’t. Am I acting before I understand something? Can I hold onto my hope, breathe life into it, the way he embodies it? And every once in a while, I hear Eren in my head — fight. I have so many dreams and I’ll never get them if I cannot fight for them. I won’t live them if I don’t try. 

For what will I dedicate my heart? 

It has been such a pleasure to experience this story from beginning to end, to watch how it’s evolved and how it’s been received. And it’s been so humbling and beautiful to be able to experience it with all of you. It’s been so much fun. 

Here’s to many more years of loving this story, even when the dust on the shelf begins to settle. 

“Maybe the reason I was born was so that the three of us could be racing there. I thought the same thing when I read books at home on a rainy day. When a squirrel ate some nuts I gave it. When we all walked around the market, too. I felt it. That these trivial moments… might actually be precious.” - Armin Arlert

“I was very happy to spend time with readers that I would never have been able to experience if I lived a normal life. Also, now that the series is over and I’m free, I want to walk around an unfashionable town with a cup of sake in my hand. I think that’s what freedom is all about.” - Hajime Isayama 

See you later, Eren. 

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 4th

Another change in my patient. At five o'clock I looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to be. He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his capture by making nail-marks on the edge of the door between the ridges of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologised for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to his own room and to have his note-book again. I thought it well to humour him: so he is back in his room with the window open. He has the sugar of his tea spread out on the window-sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them into a box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me; but he would not rise. For a moment or two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far-away voice, as though saying it rather to himself than to me:—

"All over! all over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless I do it for myself!" Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he said: "Doctor, won't you be very good to me and let me have a little more sugar? I think it would be good for me."

"And the flies?" I said.

"Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies; therefore I like it." And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen do not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could fathom his mind.

Have I mentioned I love Renfield.

It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realise all the grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all.

This sounds a lot like what Jonathan would say about Castle Dracula… Someone is about to get trapped in their own prison aren’t they…

I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and less frenzied; and just as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked around him. I signalled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was anxious to see what he would do. He went straight over to the window and brushed out the crumbs of sugar; then he took his fly-box, and emptied it outside, and threw away the box; then he shut the window, and crossing over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked him: "Are you not going to keep flies any more?"

"No," said he; "I am sick of all that rubbish!"

HAVE I MENTIONED I FUCKING LOVE RENFIELD

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[windupnamazu]

i don't get intimidated (girl, i celebrate it)

ffxivwrite2023 #13: check look at; take notice of.

Pre-relationship Tsuna/Hancock. Post-Stormblood. 993wc. ⮞ Checklist, 1 2 3 / you can tell me what you need ♫ (can it be me?)

Being a wealthy ijin living in Kugane for some time now made the presence of beautiful people somewhat of a given to Hancock Fitzgerald. Not in an arrogant or conceited way, mind you; where other, lesser men would forget their roots, Hancock could never forget his humble own and he looked upon those who clamoured for his attention and coin without disdain. How could he, when he himself knew what it was like to be desperate, to hope someone else would pick him from the squalor of an old life?

So, just as the early mornings of the port city were misty and the dining prices for tourists who didn't know any better were exorbitant if not outright extortion, Hancock was used to the preening and vying of men and women alike looking for a ticket out of poverty by way of his lap. He offered those who truly, earnestly needed it his coin purse but indulged even fewer in more base desires. Lord Lolorito had him here for business, not pleasure, after all, and Hancock was loyal to the man and the job.

But this—this was a feeling he wasn't used to.

Mizuhiki no Tsuna smiled across the bar, nodding along behind her folding fan as she listened to some ijin's tall tale of a battle he most certainly did not actually partake in. She was a vision in crimson as rich as the sunset over Kugane and she was quite deliberately emphasizing her breasts and curves to attract a growing crowd of men desperate to have the attention of a beautiful Hingan woman.

Her smile was like the sun. It wasn't directed at him.

Hancock knew since the Scions' first day in Kugane that Miss Tataru Taru took a particular interest in the Holstery's tavern and could be found here more often than not, playing up her charm as a foreign and rarely-seen Lalafell in this part of the world to curry favors and information out of local men. He'd also known that Tsuna would often join her on these ventures, herself being an expert in the arts of seduction and reconnaissance and objectively drop-dead gorgeous. But to see her in action, surrounded by other ijin men who thought of her only as their ticket to staying in the city or a good time in bed—

Something about it was churning his belly.

They were birds of a feather, the two of them, cutthroat when it came to coin and disinclined to reveal their full hand at once, doing good for themselves and those they cared about at the cost of their reputation. He was simply looking out for her, obviously, as someone who understood her character better than any other. It wasn't that deep.

But no. Tsuna knew what she was doing; she wasn't an innocent flower that could be preyed on. If anything, the woman was a fly trap, dripping honey in her words and actions. Luring others in was simply what she did best. She didn't ask to be looked after and she certainly didn't need to be.

(Hells, she'd all but lured him in too.)

Mizuhiki no Tsuna had no need for him. But… what of him for her?

"You must pardon me, ladies," Hancock said gently to his own entourage. "I see a friend of mine I must speak to." If the women who'd clung to him from the moment he entered the Holstery were bothered by his dismissal they said nothing, as per custom of Hingan inability to be straightforward.

A few of the men around her must have recognized him because they gave him dirty looks, muttered to each other, and promptly made themselves scarce when he approached. Tsuna didn't look offended at their sudden dispersal, resting her elbows on the table in a way that only further emphasized her cleavage as she waved them goodbye with a sly wiggle of her fingers. One of the men tripped up the stairs at the sight and Hancock made a note to find a reason to damn his next shipment of exports.

"Lady Mizuhiki!" he greeted jovially as he slid into the seat beside her when they were alone at last, keeping at a distance appropriate for colleagues.

"Hancock," Tsuna said, thankfully amused at his appearance. Her voice fell on him like cool, fresh water at the end of a sweltering Ul'dahn day and he thought he could drink it in forever. "I had not taken you for the sort of man to chase a woman's paramours away like a nuisance of pigeons."

"But you have taken me," he quipped and was delighted to draw a surprised laugh from her.

Beneath the shadows of the table, Tsuna reached out to rest a slender hand—that same hand that flippantly waved off her prospective lovers just moments before—on his knee and kept it there. He smelled only mint and yuzu and bergamot on her; she hadn't taken any drinks from her courtiers. "That I have."

Fighting back a swallow more appropriate of a teenager, he shifted a little closer. "I heard the Scions were busy on the Yanxian coast, but I did not think I would be so lucky as to be in your presence tonight," he said. "So, is it business or pleasure that brings you here tonight?"

"A bit of both," she said in turn. Her eyes were the colour of a fine champagne but in the low lights of the Holstery they almost glowed gold, more tantalizing than all the riches in Ul'dah's coffers. Leaning closer, she murmured, "But I could be persuaded to make it just one."

"I've given my aide the night off," he admitted, hoping he didn't sound overly eager or desperate. "The offices of the Ruby Bazaar are better for your presence, my friend."

Tsuna raised a thin brow but she didn't hide her smile behind her fan this time, taking his offered hand and disappearing into the city with him.

[capribornio]

Oops, it seems Matt DraculaDaily missed quite a bit from today's mail. Here's the rest (extracted from last year's archive).

Later.—Another change in my patient. At five o'clock I looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to be. He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his capture by making nail-marks on the edge of the door between the ridges of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologised for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to his own room and to have his note-book again. I thought it well to humour him: so he is back in his room with the window open. He has the sugar of his tea spread out on the window-sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them into a box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me; but he would not rise. For a moment or two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far-away voice, as though saying it rather to himself than to me:—

"All over! all over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless I do it for myself!" Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he said: "Doctor, won't you be very good to me and let me have a little more sugar? I think it would be good for me."

"And the flies?" I said.

"Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies; therefore I like it." And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen do not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could fathom his mind.

Midnight.—Another change in him. I had been to see Miss Westenra, whom I found much better, and had just returned, and was standing at our own gate looking at the sunset, when once more I heard him yelling. As his room is on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in the morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realise all the grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all. I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and less frenzied; and just as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked around him. I signalled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was anxious to see what he would do. He went straight over to the window and brushed out the crumbs of sugar; then he took his fly-box, and emptied it outside, and threw away the box; then he shut the window, and crossing over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked him: "Are you not going to keep flies any more?"

"No," said he; "I am sick of all that rubbish!" He certainly is a wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of his mind or of the cause of his sudden passion. Stop; there may be a clue after all, if we can find why to-day his paroxysms came on at high noon and at sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence of the sun at periods which affects certain natures—as at times the moon does others? We shall see.

Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.

4 September.—Patient still better to-day.