#i wish i could just let it go but its literally my entire life right now

[calkale]

im so sick of being mad all the time man

[itsalwaysdark]

whining hours . sry

[hyewka]

can i suggest a fic where beomgyu is helping take the reader’s mind off a bad breakup…. by fucking the living SHIT out of her NDJDNDJDJDJ

while i fuck you straight | c.bg

warnings; hard dom best friend!gyu, sub!reader, unprotected + pullout method, breeding kink, a spank or two, praise + degradation (mostly praise), slut shaming, rough marking, a tinge of possessiveness, friends w/ benefits, no romantic feelings involved (or are there?), ruined orgasm, princess pet name, beomgyus an insatiable manwhore lol, needy perv gyu with a lot of spit play, fingering, titty sucking hehe, literal messy filth and also barely proofread on my end

a/n; have to thank jazmine with all my heart for proof reading and giving suggestions, i love you so much 😭 @heart2beom this shouldn’t be a big deal as it is, but it is my first time writing full on dom beomgyu so it is this mini celebration for me and all the dom!gyu enthusiasts (i hope) 😇 reblogs are appreciated, keeps me going

You held your phone above your face, scrolling mindlessly through your socials, though subconsciously, you were really just awaiting a call from your boyfriend. Well, now ex-boyfriend. It's already been a week since you got dumped but no matter what went down that day, you couldn't get over him.

It was pitiful every time you jumped up from your bed at a notification just to find it was in fact not your ex asking to take you back and ...just a random spam email.

Beomgyu had his back against your bed, legs sprawled on the floor, also on his phone. You guys had run out of things to talk about when every conversation spun its way back to your ex- Seen that new marvel movie? You wanted to watch it with your boyfriend. That professor just got fired! You remember your boyfriend used to complain about that class. Gosh, you don’t think you’ll ever get over him.

"You're miserable." Beomgyu suddenly brings up.

You groan, as you repeatedly refresh your feed. "Gee, thanks Beomgyu. That definitely doesn't make me ten times more miserable."

He lets his head fall back on your bed, looking up at you through an upside down lens, abandoning his phone. “No, like truly miserable. I’ve never seen you so up and dry and…sober. Be young, live a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking past your phone for the first time in a while. “…You talk like you’re 80 years old, about to retire and wallow in self pity, having experienced all there is to life. Thanks Gyu but no thanks.”

“I’m an old soul Y/N.” He says patting his chest, and you roll your eyes. Not necessarily refuting it, it’s his entire personality. “Where’s the chick I used to know anyway. The old Y/N would’ve been over this in a day with a quick hookup rebound.”

You finally put your phone down, staring up your ceiling. He was totally right. Who else would be right about you if not Beomgyu? But you don’t want to think about your old self, or you’d start sobbing again. Not like you were a totally great person, but that person wouldn’t be so stuck on someone. Anything but being the lovesick, doting person you would’ve made fun of just a year ago. God, he really changed you hadn’t he?

You kick your feet, whining, falling into the abyss of treasured memories. “You don’t understand, he was different, he—he was the one, you know?”

He ponders for a bit, room silent, staring at you through his soft lashes, and you think that maybe he’ll give it you; sympathize and understand that grieving was the entire process of a first love. The silence is suffocating when finally, he lets out a light scoff, cutting through it. “No, no I don’t know. Bet you just got soft.”

“God, fuck you Beomgyu.”

He grins his stupid grin that the situation definitely doesn’t call for, “You wish.”

You think if he wasn’t with you through thick and thin for the past four years, you would’ve definitely developed some sort of hatred.

You could visibly notice a lightbulb spark above his head with the way he immediately sits up straight. “Hey, hey wait.”

You tentatively watch as he turns his back away from you, laying both his arms on the soft cushion of your mattress. “I think I might’ve just had the best idea ever. Of the century. The idea of the century.”

“I highly doubt that.” You say, blindly feeling the surface for your phone already.

“Just hear me out,” he whines noticing your eagerness to dismiss him. “But also don’t freak out or anything. Promise me.”

You stare at him, hesitant before you give in to his doe eyes. Sighing, you say: “Okay. I promise I won’t ‘freak’ out. What’s your groundbreaking idea?”

“We should like… fuck.”

Your brows are slow to raise, the rapidness of your blinking at what you think you just heard—no, not think, know. Beomgyu’s voice, loud and clear with his diction, your eyes widen at the final click of it all. Before you know it, you’re reaching for the pillow behind you, flinging it at him with all strength.

It’s like he predicted it prior, dodging one… and then another as you throw all remaining pillows on your bed. Instead of missing with your last one, you decide to hold on to it, and attack him with it. His smug demeanor of successfully dodging everything just a second ago, dissipates as he takes cover for protection. “Are you fucking—are you crazy?!” you yell exapserated, more than awake with your wide eyes.

“Ya! You—you promised you wouldn’t freak out!” When that doesn’t stop your mania with the damn pillow, he decides to lay it all out with as much speed as he can’t seem to escape your wrath. “You want to forget him don’t you? I mean, you should! He dumped you, it’s over! Sulking over him is—Ow! So out of character for you—fuck—I promise a one time fuck would get your mind off him.”

Your pillow is mid air, and Beomgyu opens an eye to peek, hands still in protection mode—you sigh, landing a weak hit on his head before loosening your grip. You do want to forget. You’d do anything to get rid of what you’re feeling. But…

“It—it wouldn’t change anything for me. If that’s a worry. You know that no matter what, you’re my best friend.” He finds his footing, collecting himself, looking at you with intensity you could date back to just a few times over the course of your very long friendship. “Someone I care about. I can’t stand seeing you hurt and not being able to do anything. You know that.”

You bite down on your lip, staring at the familiar boy with his familiar brown bed of hair, and his familiar eyes, lips…How fast did he get you to actually give this a thought? Probably a minute or two. Beomgyu had a way with convincing you to do …anything. “I…know. But what if, what if I’m still head over heels in love with him? What if it doesn’t change anything for me?”

A grin gradually takes over his face, one that is once again, not fitting for the situation. “Why—why are you smiling like an idiot? This is—”

“It’ll change.”

You knit your brows together. “What?”

You don’t notice the way Beomgyu’s hand slowly inched to yours but suddenly, his palm was over your hand, squeezing it just a bit. “Having sex with me is a once in a life time opportunity. You’ll forget him. I promise.”

If you weren’t so lost in his eyes, as cliché as it sounds, you would’ve been completely taken out—probably a joke on his sheer confidence because who just says that? But he’s so …hypnotizing as you don’t even take notice of the ‘okay’ that leaves your lips.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You exhale, “Okay. We’re adults. This won’t matter in a few weeks. Let’s do it.”

Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate for more than a few seconds before he was on your bed, crashing his lips on yours, a brief taste of strawberry lip balm, knocking a breath out of you until he slows down, testing the waters, then he stops, noses brushing against each other as he searches for something in your eyes, breathing already heavy, “Is this weird? Was that weird?”

You gulp looking down on his already glistening lips, and you nod. “The—the situation, not …the kiss. Fucking your best friend is an odd situation. The kiss…the kiss was good.” You ramble, your voice barely a whisper but he catches it anyway as you take notice of a small smile before he’s kissing you again, hands once cupping your cheeks already moving down to your tits, ministrating gently—every bit of his action seemed careful, too careful for what you know of the things your friends had told you in heated rants and swoons.

Half of the dictionary could be used to describe Beomgyu, and promiscuous was not an exclusion. You could probably say you already fucked him with the headache inducing details about what being with him in bed was like. Which is why you’re nervous as hell right now. From what you know, Beomgyu was… a lot. More than you could handle now, after an entire year of keeping yourself to one man.

“Jaehyun was worried about you. Was worried about what you’d do to me.” You blurt out randomly when Beomgyus’ moved to peppering feathery kisses along your jawline. He hums against your skin, then stops for a second to whisper, “He was?”

You could feel the smirk on his lips, opening his mouth a tiny amount to slightly suck on your neck at the process of your words—of course Beomgyu would get an ego boost from this. “Why?”

Beomgyu is practically suffocating with how little space he’s giving you, body flush against flush, your chest heaving the rougher he increasingly gets with his marking, his sly hand down to rub between your thighs, right at your core.

“Said you only wanted to get into my pants—h-ha shit, slow down, slow down Gyu.” You were getting teary eyed by his increased speed, friction against your sweats getting you wetter by the second whenever the pad of his finger teased your slit. “You know he—he asked me to stop hanging around you b-because—”

None of this was new to Beomgyu, your past boyfriends have always been worried about him for the exact reason—that he’d convince you to let him fuck you, because apparently women can’t have male best friends without it being more than platonic. But …you guess you aren’t really proving them any wrong now with the way you were letting him have his way, marking messy purple splotches all over, in hungry predatory manner, getting rougher and rougher by the second. You gasp when he abuses the same spot he just visited a few seconds ago, “Beomgyu!”

“Because?”

He presses on your aching core, pending you with the question. He didn’t seem as happy as he was with his smugness prior. “Because he thinks you’re a sleaze.”

An incredulous— mean chuckle from the back of his throat and suddenly his hand was down your panties, abandoning the long game of teasing in matter of seconds. He doesn’t touch you though, which only proves to make you more insane. “That’s dumb. Do you think I’m a sleaze?” You shiver, his deep voice so close to your ears, breath fanning against your cool skin—your eyes could go sore from how hard you’re shutting them closed.

You refuse to give it all to him, it makes you feel embarrassed and small. A new, foreign feeling you never thought you’d experience with Beomgyu of all people. “I-in some ways, yes.”

Not a satisfying response from you, he clicks his tongue like you were a misbehaving child, “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

You don’t get a chance to retort before you feel the pad of his finger prodding your pussy, then moving to gather your wetness.

Suddenly, he freezes his movement, pulling back from your neck, looking at you with an amused glint to his dark eyes. “Shit, you’re fucking drenched. And I barely did anything—”

You think he’s making fun of you so your cheeks quickly flush red, already putting up walls of defence but then he kisses you in the heat of the moment, wiping your frown away and you’re finding yourself reciprocating without a second thought—the kiss so sloppy and messy, string of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away out of breath. “Fuck, that’s so hot princess. You’re so hot.” He breathes in awe of the spit—he truly is the biggest perv.

“Spread your legs for me.” he groans, trying to get better access to your pussy. You obey, admittedly a little slow, but who can blame you? It feels embarrassing regardless of who, but it’s ten folds with your best friend. “Moreee.” he whines, and god you wish you could slap him—can he not see that you’re trying?

“Beomgyu—“

Your voice gets cut off, gasping when he takes it upon himself to pull down your sweatpants with a quick swift motion, taking it off completely, revealing your patterned underwear—and god, now you’re hiding your face…everything was so embarrassing. He takes a second to examine the wet dark spot right in the middle, proof to what he felt earlier, but then you kick your feet. “Stop staring freak!” you shriek.

You can see through the cracks of your fingers the smirk he has on, looking at you with so much intensity you think you’d melt. He reaches out to grab your hand and put it down, even through your resistance, you couldn’t match his strength to your dismay. “I wanna see your face. Have to let me see you fall apart on my fingers like a little slut.”

You’re scandalized at his wording, your cheeks once again quickly heating up. But you let him part your timid legs anyway, big hands gripping the softness of your thighs, spreading your legs as much as he possibly could, to the point you felt yourself cramp up. But even with whines of protest he doesn’t ease up—bunching your panties to the side, impatient when finally he inserts a digit—experimental with his movement before you hear him groan out a curse. “You’re so tight holy shit, did he even fuck you?”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”

Your senses are already overflowing, you could feel his hard on, his erection pressed on your bare skin, you’re hyper aware of the finger inside you—slender and slow with expertise as he pushes in and out, talking to you as if you could respond with anything more than restrained mewls. “Maybe dating him was good, then you had to be monogamous and not whore around with every guy you laid eyes on like you used to.”

“I-I never whored around—shit.” He suddenly speeds up, a merciless grin spread on his face—did he find messing with you funny?

“Yes you did. It was a new guy every…it was weekly, wasn’t it?”

You shake your head at his accusations, tears brimming when his mouth finds it use, suckling harshly on your nipples through your flimsy top—your body extra sensitive with the way you spasm on a singular finger. He pumps in two without warning and you yelp, hand reaching out to grab at his hair. You swear you could cum just from the stretch. “Stop denying it, you’d do anything for dick. I’m surprised you stayed so long with that bitch. Was he any good?”

One thing you won’t do is tell Beomgyu details of your sex life with your ex. You refuse. But Beomgyu is stubborn, and he isn’t one to give up so easily. Especially if he feels like you’re withholding information from him. “Tell me.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

He raises his eyebrows in mocking shock, “No way. He never made you cum?”

Your nostrils flair from pure embarrassment and shock. How’d he know? You quickly try to control your expressions, masking it to not give him a hint that his guess was right, but he knew you too well. You hate that. Especially now.

“Can’t believe you’re hung up on a man—fuck, baby are you close? Hung up on a man that never made you orgasm—shit,” He breathes, rubbing his clothed dick on your thigh, getting off at the sight of your face. You really are falling apart. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll take care of you.”

You tighten your hold on his hair, feeling yourself get close as you grind down on his fingers, chasing your high, choosing for your sanity to ignore all his sweet talkings.

“Gyu, gyu I-I’m gonna—No—no-why? God, fuck you, you’re such a—such a dickhead!”

Beomgyu just ruined your orgasm by completely taking out his fingers, you could practically cry out of frustration and yet he didn’t seem the least bit sorry. Instead, he makes a show of licking his fingers, the ones he just had in you, swirling his tongue and sucking them clean while making direct eye contact. You cower a little but still keep your eyes on him. Now you aren’t sure if you could stay as bitter.

You blink rapidly to collect yourself, because holy shit, you’re getting weak for…Beomgyu. “Why’d you do that? I was close Gyu.” you say exasperated.

He unbuckles his jeans, “I said I’d take care of you, just trust me.” Zipping down his pants, he’s quick to drop it down to his knees before completely abandoning them on the floor.

He flings his cock out of the restrictions of his boxers and you’re practically drooling at the pretty sight. He isn’t the biggest you’ve seen but he definitely has the girth—his tip leaking pre cum down his length, hands trying to lube it with his spit. “Beomgyu, condom.”

“I don’t have one.” He breathes, already on you as he lays wet kisses down your collarbones before he gets irritated with your shirt and takes it off, revealing your bare tits. “God, you’re so sexy.” He drawls, sucking hickeys all over your chest in hunger.

You wish you didn’t have to, but you resist his touch and in turn he lets out an annoyed whine, his voice vibrating against your exposed skin. “Beomgyu, we can’t—we need a condom.”

He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout, the cutest you’ve seen him this entire day. “I’ll pull out, I promise. Please, I need you right now.”

In that moment of weakness, his tone so needy, as if he really did need you made you feel some sort of power—like you were the hottest, sexiest woman in the world. And so you bite your tongue, and trust Beomgyu to not ruin your life. You’ve done that quite a few times.

“Swear you’ll pull out.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I do.” You say with conviction. “I do, obviously. It’s just-”

“I know. Take a breather for me. Said I’ll take care of you, didn’t I?”

You could feel him lining up to your entrance, his tip prodding your hole, and you’re already getting desperate. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” you breathe.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You do, not sure what to expect until Beomgyu spits, letting his saliva slowly fall down in your mouth. “Swallow.” he demands, his low voice making you shiver—dark eyes watching every twitch of your face intensely.

You gulp his saliva down your throat, obeying and suddenly his expression morphs into lust you’ve never been met with before. You don’t even get to process it for longer, bask in the attention you’re getting before he’s pressing your thighs to your body, pushing into you with a deep groan—filling you up to the brim, your cunt not prepared for the aching stretch. You can feel each vein against your walls, you can feel his slight twitching, you can feel everything. “Fuck, fuck you’re made for me. You’re perfect—shit, you’re perfect princess.”

“Gyu—” you cry out, gripping the sheets under you. It was too much, too much for him to already start slamming his hips. “Gyu what—” you’re cut off by your own moan the moment he hits your g-spot, your face scrunched up, hot as you let out lewd sounds with no control of your own, throat strained already. It's not a surprise he manages to find it on his first try, despite it catching you off guard with the sudden wave of pleasure.

“Should’ve fucked you sooner. Get your little pussy molded just for my dick. You would’ve liked that, right princess?” He breathes out in a long winded babble, his hips unrelenting with each thrust, already quickly building up to be in erratic speed. Through your blurry vision you could see his eyes focusing down on the jiggle of your breasts lewdly, drool trickling down the edge of his lips, the brutal slapping sounds of them from his roughness getting his head light with ecstasy. You’re more than aware of what he wanted to do when he lets your legs rest from the ache of angling them so high. Dirty pervert.

You can’t handle him playing with your tits again, you were too sensitive for anything more than you’re getting but you can’t find it in your throat to say anything before Beomgyu gives in to his lust, leaning down to attach his mouth to your sore nipple. Abusing it as he suckles harshly, muffled moans against your breasts.

His pace getting quicker, clearly getting off from sucking your nipples like a dumb baby. It was getting you embarrassingly close, your pussy clenching around his dick. “Princess. My princess is so—mmf—so perfect.”

“Stop calling me that.” You manage to squeak out. Hes been using that nickname the entire time, and though it was easy to ignore everything else, the nickname was affecting you more than you’d like to admit.

He detaches from your tits, slowing his movement, looking up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh? Princess? Why?”

“He—he used to.”

He blinks a few times before his lips draw into a sneer, clearly irritated and you’re about to backtrack, but it’s too late. Your eyes fly wide open, breath stricken when he, with no mercy, picks up his speed again, drilling his dick so far into you, you think there’s probably a bulge showing through your stomach—its when you let the tears stream down, let yourself go as he fucks you dumb with each sharp thrust serving as a punishment. But for what exactly? For mentioning your ex? Did he hate him that much?

“You can replace your memories of him with me princess. I know you can do that, I’ll make sure you do. You’re my princess, and I’m the only one who can call you that. Remember that, yea?”

You nod up and down, and he leans down to give your lips a peck, one then two then three until he loses it and it starts getting heated, tongue messily intertwining, spit exchanged in desperate action. Drilling his dick in and out your sopping pussy, squelching pornographic like sounds filling the room—you think you’re screaming at this point, mind too clouded to be fully present. You’ll definitely hear a word or two from your neighbors.

“Fuck princess, are you close?” he hisses, “I’m close too, so close. Tell me when you get there baby, okay?”

You manage to nod, pressure quickly building up

Suddenly you feel him force in a finger in your pussy, stretching you out to unimaginable degrees. “B-beomgyu—I’m cumming, I’m—” your panicked hands at the intense feeling reach out to grab at his chest, crumbling his shirt’s fabric, using the last bit of your strained voice to moan his name, your orgasm so overwhelming you genuinely start seeing white, body shaking as you try to calm yourself down. “F-fuck.” you breathe out.

The way you still clutch onto his arms pushes Beomgyu to his high too, quick to pull out of your gushing pussy before a mistake happened. It takes only two strokes before he’s spurting his seed all over your tummy, biting down a groan, obsessively taking in each inch of your body’s ruined state.

He did this. He ruined you.

The only thing filling the room being the heavy breaths of you both, Beomgyu’s hair plastered onto his forehead from sweat, yours disheveled, a complete mess. Suddenly, a notification ding goes off, and your attention’s snapped to your side. “It’s my phone.” You awkwardly point out, noticing the light before reaching your arm to get it to you.

He doesn’t move from his position, still practically hovering over you. But you try not to focus too much on it, instead taking a quick look at your notification.

Your brows twitch in surprise at seeing the message on your lock screen. Fuck, it’s your ex! Did he want you back? So miraculously? After fucking your best friend?

Without any thought, you unlock your phone, trying to skim where the ellipses left off. It was a long message and—

“We just fucked. Can’t you wait a few minutes before going on your phone— Are you texting Jaehyun?” His warm smile turning to utter rage gets you stuttering.

“No I—well—yes, but—” you fumble on your words, not knowing how to explain—not knowing why you feel like you should explain, but Beomgyu isn’t one to play around clearly, as he snatches your phone from your hand and throws it to god knows where before your body’s turned around like it was nothing to Beomgyu, like you were some ragdoll. Pushing your hips up to have your ass up in the air with your face pushed into the sheets. “B-beomgyu wha..—”

Slap. Your whole body jerks at the impact of his hand, feeling yourself get teary eyed again. “Beomgyu what the hell?” You shriek, trying to squirm from your position, your ass burning. Then you get another slap, and your legs start to shake, bottom lip wobbling at the painful feeling of his rings.

“I promised you I’d make you forget him. Clearly one fuck wasn’t enough to get your mind off that asshole.”

Your panic only lasts a millisecond at feeling his tip for a second time before you’re abusing your throat again at the oversensitivity of having Beomgyu’s dick slam into your pussy, fucking your juices back in. He’s rougher now, ten times rougher. Maybe this was what all your girlfriends were describing to you, the feeling of having Beomgyu’s dick rut into you like wild feverish dog, fucking you like all you are is a pair of limbs, just for him to hound.

You can’t think straight, not a single word coming out of your mouth is intelligible, all slurred together dumbly as he ruthlessly digs his fingers in your hips, helping you find rhythm, your body reacting on its own as it syncs with his thrusts, moving your hips enough for him to let a hand go to the back of your head, further pushing you into the mattress, drool messy staining your white sheets, loud muffled wails filling the room.

“Fuck, you like this don’t you? Getting fucked like a bitch?” your hear him growl. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth, you don’t know anything right now, because you are being fucked like a bitch while thinking like one too, your nose running with your tongue uselessly out like something out of a porno. “Should I breed you like a bitch too? Huh? Will that make your pretty little head forget?”

At that, you cum again, and he sneers, a mean laugh at noticing your orgasm, “You want me to breed you princess? Make you round with my seed?” he drawls each vowel mockingly like you were a dumb kitten and he had to explain a really simple concept—still ramming your cunt, not giving you a fair chance of responding.

That’s how it goes for you’re not sure how long, Beomgyu switching positions to have your leg draped over his shoulder as he fucks you to oblivion, making you orgasm over and over again, before you really feel like you had blacken out at some point only to find yourself waking up to him still going at it—your entire body sore, down to every inch, your nipples especially swollen from all his sucking. He never cums inside you, instead emptying his load all over your body, making you basically a show of his dried semen.

You trust him, even when his tendency to go far never died down no matter how much he got older. “You awake?”

You flutter your eyes open, a dark room, and Beomgyu. His face is abnormally close to yours. “What happened?” your voice comes out very strained, your throat hard to use. Great, you entirely lost your voice.

“Think I might’ve had my balls in…too deep.”

Even a chuckle hurts every bone in your body, holy shit, how were you going to go to work tomorrow?! “Hey, don’t move around too much, I already cleaned you up. Just try to go back to sleep.”

“I don’t feel sleepy. I can’t.”

Beomgyu suddenly giggles, you could make out the cute small thing he does with his lips when he does. “What?” you ask.

“Your voice sounds funny.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. Of course he’d find it funny. Maybe next time you should peg his ass and see how he’d like to not speak for an entire week.

You feel his all too familiar hand laying on your cheek, and you subtly gulp. You don’t know if he heard. He probably did with how close you guys are, noses practically brushing against each other, his breathing all your hearing can pick up. “You know I’m always here for you, right?”

You nod, until you realize he might not be able to see you properly. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He takes his hand off your cheek, then turns on his back, folding his arms over his chest, staring up the ceiling. So the room won’t fall into an awkward silence, you say: “I have a question.”

He shuffles a little on the bed, letting out a hum in acknowledgment. “What was the I’m perfect for you thing about? We’re definitely not like, compatible or anything.”

He laughs before he turns his head to you in disbelief. “Are you serious? Is that a serious question?”

You nod, “Do I not sound serious?”

“No, you sound like you just had the best fuck of your life.” You roll your eyes in good nature, though exasperated, you were exposed to too much of his ego in one day. If you had the strength and will to come up with something to level his ego down, you would. “It’s called dirty talk if you must know the term fair maiden.”

“God, you’re so silly, I’m going to sleep.” You withstand your pain to turn your back to him, groaning with each movement. But you can’t escape his wrath it seems, because he almost immediately snakes his arm around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, his heartbeat all you can here against your back. “Can’t I find you perfect? You know, like…my dream girl. My princess.”

You rapidly blink a few times trying to process—past the deep rasp of his tired voice that you found yourself incredibly attracted to— his words and how it brewed big unfamiliar emotions, knowing now you won’t be able to get a blink of sleep after this.

“Can I keep calling you that by the way? It really sticks.”

Oh god, the last thing you’re going to do is self sabotage yourself even more and get yourself in a stickier situation than you already put yourself in. “No, that’s definitely staying in the bedroom.”

a/n: i have no idea how this reads, its basically bare of any editing so if the flow is a little choppy i sincerely apologize, i write at the golden time of 10pm-2am 😭

[artists-ally]

{She Gets The Flowers, Right?} Reader x Lucien Vanssera {Pt.2}

Welp. Here we are. Didn't know this was gonna happen. I had ZERO INTENTIONS of writing a part two but I basically got cyber bullied into making another so here ya go fuckers. Someone literally threatened to stop taking their meds so to whoever that was I hope you get to keep your kidney! Enjoy! This part is inspired by this song.

Word Count: 6,111

Warnings: ANGST (yall thought you’re gonna get a happy ending? HAHAHAH) Some pretty negative self talk.

Tagging: @bubybubsters @cyrygher @thelov3lybookworm @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @anuttellaa @lookingforamissingpage @thehighlordishere @crazylokonugget

Summary: In the days and weeks that follow your downfall with Lucien, he has no fucking clue how to go about life without you. He can’t cope. And he desperately wants to fix everything with you.

~~~~~~~

LUCIEN’S POV

I have made the biggest mistake of my entire life. I thought that would be reserved for not being able to protect Jesminda. No. This… this is… I don’t even know.

I’m just standing on the sidewalk, staring at our- her home. At the rustic, auburn door we painted. At its brass knob, at the rusty, creaking hinges that would ring through the house when someone came in. At the little potted plant in the corner, the vines spilling out of it. 

I’ll never be back here again. 

I’ll never get to hear her laugh.

I’ll never get to taste her new recipes.

I will never be able to take all that I said back. That is the most haunting feeling of it all.

I’m an awful person. After all she’s done for me. After saving my life– on more than one occasion– I went and did nothing in return. I gave her nothing for her endless kindness. All I was capable of doing was destroying the one person in my life who has given me everything I’ve ever wanted. 

Unconditionally. She always loved me unconditionally. How could I have been so blind and naive to it? How did I never see it? 

Gods every single time she made me something to eat, a recipe to try… she was basically shoving the bond in my face, hoping I would see it. And I never ever considered it. I was so lost in Elain. Lost in the fact that I finally had feelings for someone after Jesminda… Not once did I think it could be Yn. 

I don’t deserve her. I never did. I was a bitter, rotten shell of a man when she met me. She dragged me by the arms to her house to fix me. She thought I was worthy of being saved when my own father thought the opposite. Yn put me back together. She made me who I am. And this is the thanks I give her?

Elain has said all of ten sentences to me in the past year. I haven’t been able to do anything but replay every single one of them in my head. A thousand times– a hundred thousand times. I wish I couldn’t. It’s exhausting. Constantly thinking of her. But I don’t have a choice. 

I like the feeling of being able to feel again. But at the cost of Yn? At the complete sacrifice of all I’ve known for the past century? My rock? My best friend? Nothing is worth more. 

But it is far too late to do anything about it. I’ve lost her.

I want her back. 

Yn did things to me that no one else could. She just seemed to know when things were wrong. She always knows what to say, when to say it, and how. She never tells you what you want to hear, it’s always what you need. She is the most well rounded person I’ve ever met. She’s never afraid to feel her emotions. 

I envy that skill.

I’ve always hid my feelings deep down. It took years to decipher them again. But it was Yn who made me do it. She always fought for me, fought me for me. Yn never let me do it alone. Refused to, actually. Was there every step of the way and never told me I was taking too long or wasting her time. 

I get it now.

And there is nothing I can do. I have nowhere to go. Tears scald my eyes as I trudge down the little path that we beat into the grass. Day in and day out. 

I remember when we picked this place. We had only been in Velaris for a week or two when we stumbled across it. It was run down and needed a new roof. As a thank you for keeping Feyre safe on our journey across the Courts, Rhysand gifted it to us. Complete with a new roof, new furniture, a new kitchen for Yn to cook in. And he let us be. Well, let her be. I still had my debts to pay off. 

And then I met Elain and… fuck. Everything went to shit after that. 

There is no way of processing all of these emotions at once. These very real feelings I still have for Elain. And these all-of-a-sudden very fucking real feelings I now have for Yn. It’s how I imagine imploding feels like. My body wants to cave into itself and never fold back out. 

I pray to the Cauldron that I do self destruct. This feeling, a mixture between irrational rage and betrayal… I don’t wish it upon another living soul. And Gods know I’d sell mine to change everything I’ve just done. 

I don’t even know how I ended up at the Town House. All of a sudden I was just standing in front of it. I normally resent coming here, but for some reason I was relieved to see the bricks and busted up cobblestone sidewalk. Maybe no one would be here; Rhys was more often than not at the River House with Feyre and Nyx, indulging in the life of parenthood. Nesta and Cassian were probably somewhere in the House of Wind with Elain, Mor at Rita’s, Amren with Varian, and who the hell knows where Azriel is.

I can’t wait to be alone to scream. 

Fuck, the door is locked. Of course the door is locked, no one’s here. It takes every bit of control in my shiver-ridden body to not rip the door off its hinges. And it takes even more control to not collapse against the door and break down for the whole street to see. 

The lock clicks and the door opens. 

I force myself to appear relaxed. I wipe my tears and brush away my loose strands of hair. No use. My face is probably as red as the burning self hatred inside my twisted heart. 

“What are you doing here Lucien?” The High Lord asks. 

I gulp. Of all the people, it had to be him? At least it’s not Azriel, I think. I might hate him more than I hate myself. For actually getting Elain’s attention. Yn was right, I am selfish. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were in.”

“Did you leave something?” I don’t move, and I stay deathly still. Rhys looks me head to toe, and I know he can scent me from a mile away. “Lucien, what the fuck did you do?”

“Stay the fuck out of my head,” I snarled, pointing a finger at his chest. 

“I don’t need to read your thoughts. Your face says it all.”  Rhys crosses his arms over his chest, “Look, we’ve all told you that Elain is hard to reach these days. She isn’t worth-”

“This… this doesn’t have anything to do with Elain.” I lied. He seemed to know it. “Can I just come in?”

Rhys just steps aside, shutting the door behind me. “I don’t really have time for-”

“I fucked up.”

“Clearly.”

“Rhysand,” I said. So full of disgust. He looked at me with a blank expression. One I have seen too many times to not know what comes next. I eased up my tone. “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” he answers, moving around me and heading into a study on the other side of the living room. 

I can’t help but think of how we all gathered in that living room a few months ago for Solstice. Exchanging gifts and drinks and smiles and stories. I vividly remember making Yn laugh so hard she tipped her head over the arm of the couch, sending her wine tumbling to the ground. The stain still on the small rug almost makes me smile, and it almost makes me burst into tears. 

“I ruined everything in my life. Yn’s gone.” I could feel the air freeze around me. “Not like, gone gone but she’s… I don’t think I’ll ever be seeing her again.”

“So this is because of Elain.”

I bit my tongue so hard I thought I’d bite it off completely. But I sighed, the tears coming with it. “Yes.” A really long pause. “She told me I’m-”

“You’re Yn’s mate?”

“Yes.”

“And you never knew because you were so focused on Elain.” “Is that supposed to be a question?”

“It was, but you just gave me your answer,” Rhys sat. “Do you want me to keep guessing or are you going to tell me what happened?”

I took the biggest breath I could, steading my words. “I missed the opening of her restaurant because I was with Elain.”

Rhysand looked at me with such revulsion that I thought he might put me through a wall. Those wicked, violet eyes could’ve boiled my bones. For a split second I wished he would. I could tell he wanted to say something, but I don’t think there were enough words in the world for how much of an awful person I was. 

“There are things in this world that we sacrifice in this world Lucien,” Rhys said.

Hesitantly, “I know.” 

“And Yn gave up the biggest of them all. She shut her mouth to let you be happy. She did what I did for Feyre until she realized what situation she was in. You are one spineless bastard for doing anything but giving your life to her.”

“I know.”

“Have you any idea what you’ve done to her? She gave you everything you could ever ask for. From the moment the two of you stepped in my Court I could tell she only had eyes for you. When you are in the room you’re the only one she looks at. How could you have not known?”

“I don’t know…” “Yes, you do.”

I plunged my nails into my palms. “For Cauldron's sake Rhysand of course I know.”

“Then why did you continue to ignore Yn?”

“Because I couldn’t ever let myself think a female like her would like such a broken, dismantled and lost soul like mine.” Rhysand stared at me. “When Yn pulled me from the border to fix me, she spent every waking moment of her life stringing my mind and body into one piece. If I let myself think for even a second that it was anything other than kindness, I would’ve gone mad.”

“Would it have been so terrible to love her?”

“I’ve always loved her. I just never thought I’d be allowed to love her the way she loves me.”

“Because of Elain?” “Because of Elain.”

Rhys blew out a breath, sitting down on the corner of his desk. “So, let me see if I have all of this correct. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for Yn because you thought you were unworthy. Instead, you sabotaged both of your happiness for Elain simply because she was your mate and you just wanted to feel something?”

“It sounds so much more fucked when you say it outloud.” I rubbed my hands over my tired, burning eyes. “And it’s not just because she’s my mate, Rhys. I genuinely like her. She’s… she has the potential to be so sweet. I’ve seen glimpses of it, heard stories from Feyre and Nesta. Why won’t she let me see?”

“You are still clueless, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Here you are, a ruined man because you drove away your best friend, and you’re still worried about someone who doesn’t want you. Pathetic. You are a selfish son of a bitch.”

“I can’t just ignore Elain. It’s impossible to think of anything else but her and how I can help her.” “Lucien,” Rhysand stopped me from going on another tangent. “Maybe start considering that she doesn’t want you.”

“What?” My lip trembled. “N-No she… we have a bond. It’s there she just needs time. I’m her mate, she’ll want one eventually.”

“Just like Yn will want one?” His eyes were as viscous as the tone of his voice. “You are doing the same thing to Yn that Elain is doing to you. You understand how that feels. Now imagine that Elain was the one you found on the border of the Spring Court and you spent decades nursing her mind back into her body. Recreating her personality and passions. Wouldn’t you be a little fucking irate if she started showing interest in another male after all you did for her?”

I froze.

This was so much deeper than I ever thought it could be. But I could see it. Bringing Elain back to herself all for it to be thrown away by another male. Azriel filled that roll, and I was filled with raw fury at the mere thought of that happening. 

“So now you see what Yn has been dealing with. And Gods, Lucien, she has been dealing with it for a long while. What you did was wrong, unjust, and unfair. And for you to be with Elain on the day of her grand opening, where all of us just were, is… that may be unforgivable.”

“I don’t deserve to be forgiven for what I’ve just done…”

My shoulder hunch, and my chest cracks. I am a bleeding mess of tears. I can barely stand as I openly sob in front of Rhys. I’m surprised when he shoves a chair under me instead of letting me crumble to the floor in my self induced agony. And I’m even more surprised when he puts a hand on my shoulder. 

It’s Yn. It’s always been Yn. There is nothing in this world that can compare to her or her kindness or her love. What a fool I have been to not take the hand that was given me. What a selfish, self-serving waste of a man I have been to her. 

I can’t take it. I have to have her back. I have to fix this. I have to. I have to. I have to. 

I stand. “Woah, what are you doing?” Rhys tried to get me to sit down. 

“Yn- I have to fix this with Yn-”

“No,” Rhys slams me back into the chair. “You are not going to march back over there.”

“I have to,” I yelled. “I can’t let her kick me out without her knowing that I’m sorry. That I’ll do anything she wants me to to win her back. I can’t be without her, I need her.”

“She kicked you out?” I nodded. “You’re not going anywhere. She clearly doesn’t want to see you. Nothing you could say to her would suffice. Especially right now. She needs time. She needs space. If I find out that you go back to your- her house, I’ll drop you back in the Spring Court, do you understand me?”

I nod viciously. 

“Good,” Rhys let out a heavy breath. “You can have your old room back. Nothing in it but a few storage boxes. Everything is otherwise untouched.” Great. My old memories to haunt me. Just what I needed. For a very short week we stayed here. Yn’s room was right across from mine. Just another reminder of everything that’s happened between now and then. 

I slump in the seat, letting tears trickle down my nose and onto my knee. Watching them evaporate and dry, just for the material to be soaked again. “I’m so sorry Yn…”

I heard Rhys whirl around, and I could feel the tension across the room. He probably thinks I’m mad. I might as well be. 

More footsteps sounded than people in the house and Cassian walked in the room. Luckily I was facing away from him. “Don’t tell me he’s a part of our special detachment.”

I rolled my eyes. Cassian, ever the charming.

“No, he’s… well, he’ll be living here for a little while.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“It’s none of your business,” I snapped. No one spoke. I sighed for what felt like the billionth time today. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” Cassian asked, coming to stand next to me, his body reeking of sweat and dirt. All I had to do was lift my head and I think he understood enough. That or Rhys told him. “I won’t say anything cause I’ll probably just make it worse.”

“Probably,” Rhys nodded. 

“Probably.” My eyes burned, so did my skin. “I have to get all my stuff out tomorrow. She told me to.”

“Then you’ll do it tomorrow. Not tonight, tomorrow. Respect her wishes, or I will make you.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“We’ll be back,” Rhys grabbed a few things from his desk then ushered Cassian out the door. “Don’t do anything. Just stay here.”

It could’ve been twenty minutes or two hours until I finally moved upstairs. Forcing myself to not go to Yn’s room was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. All the conversations we had, all the plans we made. It’s where she first got the idea of her restaurant. She literally had a dream and made it a reality. 

I’d be lying if I said I told her how proud of her I was. I never have. Why have I never told her that? Could I really have been that caught up in Elain that… Wow. It’s funny how you only realize after the fact. 

My bed caught me as I collapsed into it, tucking my knees into my chest. I am such a loser. Pathetic. Just like Rhys said. My heart would burn up and die at this rate. It was a mystery how I hadn’t burst into flames yet. 

There are so many things I need, and Yn takes the top of the list. She had always been everything I needed. When I needed comfort, I went to Yn. When I needed solutions, I went to Yn. When I needed answers, to be heard, to be validated, to be loved… who was I supposed to go to now? Definitely not Rhys or Cassian, and certainly not Elain.

Maybe for the first time ever I wanted nothing to do with Elain. I didn’t want to see her. I couldn’t care less if I ever saw her again. Her presence in my life has done nothing but tear my other relationships apart. 

She’s the reason I’m here in this mess.

_____

At some ridiculous hour of the night– morning? Is that the sun?– I heard the door open. I shot up, then deflated down. I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t at home. And that wasn’t Yn walking in the door. 

Every thought and emotion rushed back into my head, creating an endless tangle of thoughts. The next more horrid and self destructive than the last. I deserve it. 

Missing the opening of her restaurant, Latibule–an ancient word for refuge or safe place–was the biggest mistake of my life. I will never be able to make that up to her. I turned her biggest accomplishment into a slimy, diseased memory. I ruined what was supposed to be the best night of her life.

I’ve let her down in a way I’ll never be able to repair. 

Even Rhys and Feyre were there last night. And I wasn’t. Nesta and Cassian. Azriel, Amren, Mor… they were all there, supporting her. And I was with Elain. She probably wanted to go, and I was there, holding her back. 

I need to get out of this room before it crushes me whole.

I could see the sun just barely peeking over the Sidra when I stepped outside, cloak wrapped tightly around my head and shoulders to keep out the early morning bite. 

There wasn’t a soul around, Velaris still blissfully asleep besides this one small corner store that sold hot tea and pastries all hours of the day. Rustling in my pocket was just enough for a peach turnover and a cherry blossom tea. 

The bell chimed above the door as I walked in, knocking my boots against the step to not track dirt in. 

“Early start to the day, Luc?” Ms. Immy smiled from behind the counter, polishing a few mugs before moving to come to the display case, packed full of delicious goods, savory and sweet. 

“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “Couldn’t really sleep.”

“Well I am glad to have you in, the usual?”

“That would be great, Ms. Immy.” 

The lovely owner of the bakery was Ms. Immy. One of the older members of the Night Court but as wise as they come. She’s the kindest, most gentle fae to roam Prythian. With her soft, sage green eyes and long, slender ears adorn with piercings, Ms. Immy was by far one of my favorites here. 

The kettles whistled behind her as she dipped a tea bag into my mug. Ms. Immy always had designated mugs for her regular customers. Mine was made of green clay, mostly green with a white oval on the front with two lines of flowers. In the center of it all was a simple fox. She once told me that I had the spirit of one of those extinct creatures in the human lands. That I was reserved, and at my core I fiercely protected those I cared about.

If only I had been able to protect Yn from myself.

Her mug had been one crafted of the moon and the stars. With all the constellations of the Gods being lifted into the air by the magic of the Cauldron. Ms. Immy had told her it was a visual representation that Yn was a great reminder of the past to the current world. That she was lost art that was to never be forgotten. 

There is nothing I want more than for the rest of the world to be loved as fiercely as she had loved me.

“Here is your tea, Lucien,” Ms. Immy set the mug on the counter, pushing up the glass case and plucking a peach turnover out. “And for you as well.”

“Thank you,” I tried to smile. I stared at the blackberry tart next to the peach turnovers. Yn’s go-to. It made my blood run cold. 

I put the coins in her hand before I could begin to cry again and scooted out the door as another person was coming in. 

The table and chairs outside were hard and covered in a light mist. It creaked as I sat, just as it always did. I should've sat anywhere else, but my body naturally drifted to this exact spot. It had a good view of the street so Yn and I could watch the people walk by. Pretending we know every bit of their personal lives and beyond. Make up extravagant stories and adventures for the most boring looking individuals in hopes they may one day get to go on them in another lifetime. 

Gods she is everywhere. She’s in the tavern across the street, in the stones on the ground that we used to kick on our walks. She’s in the sunrise, the same color of her heated cheeks filling the sky. There is no escaping what used to be my whole world. 

Silently, I let a few tears roll down my cheeks. I ought to be ashamed of showing so much emotion in public, but for some reason I can’t find the will to care. 

The door chimes and footsteps go back down the street. The door chimes again. 

“My fox boy,” Ms. Immy says so softly I almost don’t hear it over the roar in my ears. “What troubles you so badly you can’t sleep?”

I bite my lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises. “I don’t know how to fix something that I’ve done.”

“You missed the opening of Yn’s restaurant.” She says. 

I nod. “How did you know?”

“Because I did not see you there, fox boy.”

“She kicked me out, Ms. Immy. I deserved it, every bit of what she said was true.”

“I think that is true, Lucien,” Ms. Immy came and sat in Yn’s spot, folding her hands in her lap, letting out a breath of air as she extended her old, feeble legs. “Nobody is happy with what you’ve done but-”

“I didn’t mean to blow her off Ms. Immy I just-”

“But,” she cuts me off with a pointed look. “I think you are a very lost soul. For the first time in your life you are truly free. No High Lord to obey, no throne to fight for, no war to fight in. Just a High Lord to serve and to respect. You have everything you could ask for, and yet you have no idea what to do with it.”

She’s right. She’s always right. “I want to fix it. I have to.”

“I am afraid that may not be what the spirit of the Gods wants.” Why is it that I get called fox boy and Yn get’s called something as majestic as ‘spirit of the Gods’? “If those are her wishes, you are going to respect them. Eternally.”

“I will go mad. If I don’t have her by my side for the rest of my life I will go mad.” “So you share a bond with her as well?” She asks. 

“I don’t know. All I do is that I haven’t stopped crying and shaking at every reminder of her. No matter how small. Life without her in it is meaningless to me. Afterall, she is the one who gave it back to me.”

“And a good job she did, fox boy,” Ms. Immy smiled softly. “You are a good male who has been blinded by instincts. While it is not your fault, it has become your problem. And by the looks of you, it seems like it has become quite the ordeal.”

My shoulders dropped as I put my head in my palms. I breathed. “I don’t know how to function without her. She has been there, every day of my life, for nearly seventy years, Ms. Immy. We did everything together. Our mornings were spent as one, our evenings, all the restaurant planning and-and brunches here with you-”

“Breathe, Lucien-”

“How am I supposed to just pack up my things today and move on? H-How am I supposed to just carry on as if she never existed in my life? The thought of not being able to see her every day makes me want to peel the skin off my flesh.”

Ms. Immy looked at me, the hard lines in her face becoming more defined. “Listen to me very carefully, fox boy. What’s done is done. You cannot go back in time and take back what you said. The worst of it is over. Now comes the long process of trying to piece your life together. Whether Yn will be able to help you will depend on what you decide to do in the next several days. If you follow her wishes of moving out and staying clear, there could be a chance in the future. But, if you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope.”

If you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope… Words have never stunned me quite as forcefully as Ms. Immy’s had. The true gravity of the situation has set in, if it hadn’t already. One wrong move and she’s gone. For good.

“There is a reason why you are my little fox, Lucien,” Ms. Immy stood, taking my cold mug that I hadn’t touched. “They were intelligent, cunning creatures, just as you are. Do not let your instincts guide you to a decision. Let your heart and the facts do it for you.”

“The facts? What facts?” “The fact that you have screwed up. The fact that Yn has made a decision for you since you were incapable of doing it yourself. It is truth, and it hurts, but it has to for change to come.” And then she went inside. 

I sat with those final words for far longer than I anticipated. It was long enough for people to begin leaving their homes, the streets beginning to fill with people. 

Yn would be out of the house by now, opening for the restaurant’s breakfast hours. I could go now. Or I could stay here and try to blend into the hundreds of faces passing in and out. But I need to move. Yn might come in for her apple cider and blackberry tart. If I saw her right now I’d surely do something stupid. 

As I walked, the clouds blocked out the sun and it began to drizzle. The drizzle turned into a steady rain, then a downpour. I was soaked through my cloak and boots, water seeping in and out with every step. My hair stuck to the back of my neck. 

I kept my head down as I walked, afraid of being recognized. If Ms. Immy had been there to not see me at Latibule, who else? 

The cobblestone ended and mud replaced it. I knew where I was.

The old, beaten path dared me to go up to the house. It beckoned me. From here, at the bottom of the hill, I could see several boxes stacked up outside the door, the disposable brown material soaked through with the rain. She was serious…

Some part of me– the extremely selfish part– has been secretly hoping that she’ll tell me she made a mistake and that she wants me back. But I think those boxes are a not-so-gentle-shove in the opposite direction. 

The key in my pocket might as well have been the key to another universe, because when I opened the door it was like I entered a whole new world. One without me in it. All the pictures of us, all the paintings Feyre had done for us, were off the walls. All the plants and trinkets and decorations I gifter here were piled in the corner for me to collect.

How could so much damage have been done in just a few hours? 

One by one, I packed away the things into the soggy boxes. I moved from room to room. Silently. Hoping this was all a dream only to be launched back into reality with every memory that surfaced. Every possession I had given her in the last seventy years was piled here for me to take. 

She wanted no trace of me here. And I didn’t blame her. I don’t want any trace of me either. 

I must’ve stayed there for hours– crying, packing, reliving moments I had long forgotten only to cry again– because it was close to sunset now. Every trace of me was packed up; all those pictures, all those trinkets, all my clothes and bathing goods… everything I owned fit into these boxes. Everything except for the one person I didn’t want to do life without. 

But Rhys and Ms. Immy are right. If I try to do something now, to get her back, I’ll ruin any real chance. That is something I can’t afford. 

To an immortal, a few months or years equivalates to just a few minutes of human life. But if it takes years for Yn to accept me back in her life…

Besides the clothes and membranes from the Autumn and Spring Courts, I discard everything. I will tear myself to bits if I don’t get rid of them. Will I regret it down the road, probably, but I can’t have them. 

The two boxes and bag of clothes I carry from her house to the Town House are water logged and falling apart. It’s a miracle they didn’t unravel completely. Just add more humiliation to a High Lords son dragging boxes and bags through the street. I deserve all the stare’s and hushed questions. 

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sights of Rhys and Cassian helping me carry them up the stairs. 

“I don’t know how you’re feeling but-”

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “Just… just don’t. I don’t want your pity, Cassian.”

“I am probably the last person besides Azriel who would pity you, Lucien. And I had no intentions to belittle you for what you did. I was going to offer you a spot in my training ring if you ever needed an escape.”

His kindness shocked me. I can’t say I know the Illyrian well, but this gesture spoke a lot to his character. So I sighed, of course I thought he was going to be hostile to me. Everyone should. “Oh.”

“Training starts at eight and goes to one. Come well fed and in something warm. The top of the House is colder.”

Neither of us said anything else as he left me to unpack.

______

Some weeks later I had taken Cassian up on his offer. Him and Nesta were great at kicking my ass and telling me about it. This side of both of them was far different than the ones I had seen. Here, Cassian wasn’t a prick. He was an instructor, teaching me how to defend my life and my honor. Nesta was… less Nesat. She channeled this otherworldly presence and became one with her weapon.

Me on the other hand… it was far more difficult. Fighting and battle wasn’t rooted in my blood like it was for Cassian. It was much harder for me to get it but I sorta did. Sorta.��

“Just keep working on that footwork and it’ll help with the sword placement. If you’re solid by the end of the week, I’ll put a real one in your hands,” Cassian grinned, chucking me my practice weapon. 

It brought a quick smile to my face. As fast as it was there it was gone. Like most these days. 

When I got home, I rifled through my closet. Brown and green and cream colored shirts after another. Where was that Night Court Blue one I had gotten a long time ago? I could’ve sworn I plucked it from the pile on the floor- no, that was a towel. I was planning on wearing it to dinner at the River House tonight for Mor’s birthday.

Oh, Yn has it. I had given it to her to wear for a meeting with a realtor when looking at properties. She had tucked it into this black leather skirt.

I’ll swing by on my way to the party to get it. Mor always liked the color on me, and said it brought out the fire in my hair. She’ll appreciate the gesture.

After a shower and some other outfit choices, I can’t help but want that blue shirt. I’ll just go get it.

Through the falling leaves, I make my way down the street, across it, and to the meadow. There are six or seven houses with smoke billowing out of their chimneys. But there, right in the distance, is her house. She’ll be at her restaurant tonight so I know I’m safe. 

I scurry up the path, still worried about being seen for some reason. 

Has it been easy these past couple weeks? No. I haven’t been able to think of anything but her. Or dream of anything but her. It’s awful. Not her, but the fact that somehow, someway, she is still everywhere I am. In those memories in the darkest part of the night. The darkest part of my mind reserved for her and her only. 

I hadn’t dared to go visit Elain. I don’t feel the need anymore. Which is relieving and frightening at the same time. It’s like there is a gaping hole in my heart that nothing will fill. Not even training. It proves a good secondary distraction, but nothing can suppress the primary guilt I feel every waking–

What is that smell? I stopped just shy of the door, key in hand. It wants to smell like the rest of the smoke and ash wafting into the air from the nearby cabins, but it’s… more alive? What if she left the stove on? Or a candle? There are hints of woods mixed into it, but not the type of woodsy scent from pine or maple logs. 

I jam the key in as fast as I can to unlock the door. What if she left the fireplace burning or had an electrical fire or-

In the span of five seconds, three things happened. One: Yn was here. And she looked so beautiful. Her eyes are bright and full of color. Two: she was being held by someone, his hands on her cheeks. Three: boiling rage shot through when I realized who it was.

Eris.

~~~~~~~~~

Part 3

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

You Are In Love (Superstar Chapter 10)

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

Roy and the Reader settle into their life together.

Roy Kent x Reader

9.7k words

Warnings: Language, allusions to smutty things, adults drinking, teeny tiny talk about insecurities, some of the most self-indulgent and fluffy writing I have ever done in my entire life

Author's note: I'm feeling really emotional about posting this final chapter, and I just really want to say THANK YOU. This story really helped get me out of a writing slump, and your love & support has been a huge part of that. I've loved spending so much time with these characters, but more than that, I loved getting to share this story with you. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU. I hope you enjoy all this sugary sweet fluff!

~

Roy stared at me in utter disgust, as if I had just told him I was becoming a Man City supporter or hated The Sound of Music. “That is the fucking worst combination of words in the history of the fucking world.”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “Brunch with Keeley and Jamie is not torture, Roy.”

“To me it is,” he growled, pulling back the blankets and crawling into bed.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. Keeley’s one of my closest girlfriends, and Jamie’s your best friend,” I pointed out as I followed suit, pulling the blankets over us.

Roy let out a deep groan. “Why the fuck does everyone keep fucking saying that?” He turned to face me, propping himself up on his elbow. “I want to really, actually, literally murder him. I fantasize about it almost as much as I fantasize about you. How the fuck is that friendship?”

I shrugged and kissed the tip of his nose. “Everyone has their own love language. And violence towards Jamie Tartt is yours.”

“Want to know my love language when it comes to you?” he asked suggestively, his hand snaking its way under the t-shirt I wore. “I’m fucking fluent.”

“I’d prefer if your love language was going to brunch,” I teased, giving him a playful shove.

He grunted, annoyed at my lack of response to his flirting. “Fine. But I’m drinking as many fucking mimosas as I want.”

The next morning, Roy begrudgingly sat at a patio table across from Jamie, listening to Keeley and I gossip and giggle over mimosas and a ridiculous amount of food. Suddenly, she lit up.

“Oh! Roy, there was something I wanted to run by you.” She took his grunt as the signal to continue. “So, with the Greyhounds doing so well, there’ve been lots of requests for interviews and stuff, y’know? And there’s this hot new talk show, hosted by…” She took a quick look at her mobile. “Ryley Sharp. Two Ys. And his people reached out to see if they could get a gaffer to come on for a chat.” She shrugged. “Would you be interested?”

Roy narrowed his eyes and downed the mimosa in front of him. “Why me? Doesn’t this seem more Ted’s kind of shit?”

Keeley shifted, shooting Jamie a glance. Jamie nodded encouragingly; he’d clearly heard this whole pitch already. “I could ask Ted, but…” She thought a moment. “I mean, you’re a household name, so it would be very good ratings. And, as a friend, I was thinking it would be a good opportunity for you to…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering to me.

“For me to do what exactly?” Curiosity floated behind his stony expression.

“To control your own narrative,” Keeley finally said. When she saw the confusion on both our faces, she continued. “Listen, I know you hate the media-”

“I wish they’d all die in a fiery explosion and then have all their ashes fed to feral hogs who eat their own shit so there’s just an endless cycle of their ashes being eaten and shit out for all eternity,” Roy confirmed.

Keeley nodded slowly, glancing at me as if to ask ‘This is your boyfriend?’ “Right. But think about it this way. You’re a very public figure, Roy. And now that the two of you are done pretending you’re capable of hiding your relationship, you’re going to be going out in public together. And you are going to be photographed together. And your name-” She turned to me. “-is going to become known as well. And I assume none of us want a repeat of… you know what.”

A snort flew out of Jamie’s nose. “Boy-toy Roy,” he cheeked.

Roy bared his teeth. “I have my taxidermist on speed-dial.”

“Boys,” I scolded. “Keeley, please continue.”

“Thank you,” she hummed. “Now, Roy, if you go on this show, you’ll talk about Richmond of course. All about how well they’re doing, how great Ted is, how you see yourself in the lads, that sort of thing. And then, Ryley’ll ask you about yourself. Particularly…” She gestured towards me. “This way you get to decide what people know about you. No room for speculation from the press, no room for making shit up to sell a magazine. Just ‘I’m Roy Kent, I’m in a very happy relationship with the world’s fittest woman, and we have an adorable dog’.” She offered up a hopeful smile. “What d’you think?”

All three of us looked at Roy expectantly. He shoved a piece of fruit into his mouth, then reached over and grabbed my mimosa and gulped it down.

“Tell me about this Ryley Sharp prick,” he finally muttered, taking my hand under the table.

Keeley perked up and gestured to a passing waiter to bring more drinks. “He’s not too bad actually. I’ve watched his show before. Bit of an airhead, but very sweet. And I’ve asked around to see what people have to say about him. Not a bad word from anyone. He’s absolutely not the gotcha kind of guy. He’ll ask you lots of easy, soft questions, make you look good, give you the opportunity to gush about this one here-” She winked at me. “-and he won’t go into anything you don’t want to go into.”

Roy grunted, tapping the table. He glanced at me. “What d’you think?” he asked earnestly.

I looked back at him. His eyes were unsure, eyebrows all scrunched. He’ll do whatever I ask, I realized. He wanted to make me happy, to help me feel safe and secure. And fuck, I wanted to do the same for him.

“I think,” I started carefully. “I think you should do what you want. Keeley makes some really good points about getting out in front of things and not giving the media room to speculate, but if it’s going to kill you, don’t do it.” I squeezed his hand. “I’ll support whatever you decide.”

“Hmmf.” He looked my face over, thoughtfulness in his expression. “Fuck it.” He looked at Keeley. “I’ll do it, but I’m not saying nice things about that prat.” He nodded at Jamie.

Keeley squealed, ignoring the outraged look on her boyfriend’s pretty face. “Ahh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She grabbed her phone and began typing rapidly. “I’ll pop by tomorrow with all the details. And a backstage pass for you,” she added, winking at me. “And don’t you worry, Roy, I’ll be there the whole time to make sure it goes well, I promise.”

He nodded curtly. “Yeah, well.” He cleared his throat. “I can still swear and shit, yeah?”

~

I smiled watching Roy through the mirror as the makeup woman attempted to powder his face. He was wearing his signature scowl, along with a charcoal suit that hugged him beautifully. At Keeley’s insistence and my prodding, he had gotten a haircut and tidied his beard. All in all, he managed to look even better than he did on any of my old posters.

I really get to go home with this man, I thought with a giggle as I nestled further into the couch I shared with Keeley in the greenroom. Noticing the giddy way I was watching him, he met my eyes in the mirror and cracked a smile.

“No, you’re not putting makeup on me when we get home,” he warned.

“Spoilsport,” I teased as the door opened and a production assistant entered to let Roy know that he would be on after the commercial break, which meant it was time for all of us to leave the greenroom.

Keeley linked her arm through mine as another assistant led us to a pair of audience seats that had been reserved for us to watch the interview. “I made sure they told Roy exactly where we’re sitting,” Keeley assured me as we settled in.

Sure enough, as soon as Roy walked out onto the set to thunderous applause, his gaze found mine. I wondered if the viewers at home would also notice the tiny twitch of his mouth when our eyes locked. He plopped down into the stylish chair by Ryley Sharp’s desk.

We had gotten to meet Ryley Sharp before the show, and Keeley had been right about him; sweet and a bit of an airhead, in the best possible way. He was very excited to have Roy on the show and was thrilled to know I’d be sitting out in the audience with Keeley. He was completely onboard with everything Keeley had discussed with us and thought that Roy wanting to chat about me during the interview was simply “adorable”.

Keeley gripped my hand as Roy was interviewed. I was hugely impressed; he was almost charming and nearly friendly, he actually answered questions, and he even managed to keep his “fucks” to a minimum. It was the best interview I’d ever seen him do, and I’d probably watched every single one he’d done in his entire career. Multiple times.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much as I listened to the audience laugh at some cheeky comment he made about Ted.

Ryley Sharp shifted in his seat, running a hand through his bleached hair. “Alright, so it looks like things are going well for you, Roy. Happily retired from a massively successful career, coaching Richmond to one of the great underdog stories of our time. What about in your personal life?” He raised his eyebrows. “Got a girl?”

Roy shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “I actually do,” he admitted, his eyes flicking in my direction as the studio audience ooohed.

“Roy Kent, are you squirming?” Ryley Sharp humorously gasped, leaning forward.

“Do I have to answer that?” Roy asked, a teasing edge in his voice.

Ryley Sharp shook his head. “Not if you agree to tell us about this girl of yours..”

Roy nodded. “Sounds like a deal to me.” He gave a small cough. “She’s, uh, she’s amazing, yeah. We work at Richmond together and, I dunno, we clicked. Decided to give it a go, and so far, so good.”

“Descriptive as always,” Ryley Sharp teased, eliciting some light chuckles from the audience. “Mind if we do some lightning-round questions to learn more?”

Roy nodded firmly. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

Ryley Sharp cleared his throat. “She like football?”

“Loves it.”

“Fan of yours?”

A smirk graced Roy’s face. “Huge.”

“Her parents like you?”

“I like to think so.”

“She smart?”

“Brilliant.”

“Funny?”

Roy bobbled his head. “She thinks she is.”  He winked in my direction as the audience chuckled.

Ryley Sharp’s friendly smile widened. “She pretty?”

“Fucking gorgeous.”

“And am I to understand…” Ryley Sharp perked up a little. “She’s here in our studio audience?”

Sharp had come up with this idea, explaining that the audience would find it charming as hell. Keeley had left it completely up to us whether we wanted to go along with it, and I’d left it up to Roy, who surprised us all with his yes. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Roy sit up straight and turn his gaze back to me.

“Um, yeah, yeah she’s here.” He gave a little nod in my direction. “Sitting right over there with our friend Keeley.”

Sharp waved to someone off-stage. “Could we get a mic out there?” he called.

In an instant, the same production assistant from earlier was standing next to my seat, holding a microphone. Roy gave me a thumbs up as Ryley Sharp turned his attention to me.

“Why don’t you stand up, love?” he asked as the house lights came on and a camera turned my way.

Keeley pushed me to my feet as my face burned. I smiled and gave Roy a little wave as the production assistant handed me the mic. “Hi,” I said timidly, suddenly hating the sound of my own voice.

Roy smiled, a full smile, and nodded back. “Hey,” he called tenderly. Even from my seat, I could see his eyes were full of affection.

Ryley Sharp cleared his throat playfully. “Alright, lovebirds, back to the interview.” He focused on me. “So, Roy Kent’s girl, eh?” I nodded, suddenly bashful. “What’s it like dating this guy, hmm?”

I lifted the microphone to my face. “Lovely, actually. He’s a pretty good one.” The wink Roy sent me bolstered my confidence.

“Alright, I’m sure all the hardcore football fans out there are dying to know.” Sharp looked at me with mock seriousness. “What is the most romantic thing Roy Kent has ever done?”

My eyes drifted from Ryley to Roy who raised his eyebrows at me. He spoke up. “It’s Paris, innit?”

I nodded, biting back a grin. “Can I tell them about it?”

Roy sat back in his seat and shrugged, as if it were totally normal for us to have a conversation on national television. “Why the fuck not?”

I turned my attention back to Sharp. “Um, well Richmond had gone to Paris for a friendly. And after the match, Roy here surprised me by taking me to the Louvre.” More ooohs from the audience. “After hours,” I added cheekily, garnering more hooting. “And we had a lovely time. Dinner and champagne, the kind of thing only a retired footballer can afford to do.”

Sharp joined in the audience’s chuckles. “Goodness. If that’s a date, I can’t wait to see what his proposal’ll look like!”

My cheeks burned, but I tried to maintain my composure. “Yeah, well, you and my mother have something in common then,” I joked, earning a laugh from the whole room- most especially Roy, who was shaking his head and looking at me like I was the most wonderful, special thing he’d ever seen in his life.

Ryley Sharp asked me a couple more questions- about Oscar and about what Roy and I liked to do when we weren’t at work- before wrapping it up. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for Roy Kent and his lovely girlfriend!”

As the audience gave a hearty round of applause, I handed the microphone back to the assistant and looked at Roy, who was still staring at me. I blew him a kiss, and he looked down, clearly blushing. He turned back to Sharp, shaking his hand and looking uncharacteristically cheerful.

After the show wrapped, Keeley and I made our way back to the greenroom, where Roy was chatting with Ryley Sharp. He offered me a smirk when he saw me and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“You were fucking brilliant,” he murmured in my ear.

Ryley Sharp reached out and shook my hand. “How’d it feel?”

I cleared my throat. “It was fun,” I admitted. “But not something I could do every day. Don’t know how you all live with being famous.”

Keeley giggled and nudged me. “Oh, so you don’t want me to set you up with a modeling contract then?”

“Hell no,” I laughed. “Being Roy Kent’s girl is more than enough attention for me.”

~

Life became predictable. Easy. Routine. And I loved every moment of it.

We’d spend our days at Nelson Road, with Roy in training and me doing my best to bring some semblance of order to the coaching staff, eating lunch together almost every day. Our evenings were often spent with Phoebe and Oscar, making dinner together, playing, and watching movies until Roy’s sister came for pickup. Nearly every night was spent together, either at his place or mine, and our mornings were spent waking up in each other’s arms. On weekends we were with the Greyhounds, or taking Phoebe on outings, or meeting up with friends, or just sitting on the couch and reading.

From time to time our picture would end up online or in a magazine: playing at the park with Oscar, or sharing an embrace after a Richmond victory, or getting drinks with Keeley and Jamie. More often than not, the picture featured a blurred gesture on Roy’s part, but he could always be counted on to point out how stunning he thought I looked in the photos.

Amidst this domestic bliss- or “the boring life of dating an old geezer”, as Roy called it- was one thrilling constant: Richmond was still winning. They’d bounced around the top four spots over the course of the season, but there was actual expectation for them. More than one pundit even selected them as their pick to win the “whole enchilada”, as Ted and Dani loved to say in unison. Things came down, in true dramatic fashion, to the last match of the season, which would be against Arsenal.

Roy had already gone running with Jamie and was showered and set to go by the time I woke up, so he sat on the bed with Oscar and read as I got myself ready. He not-so-stealthily watched me over the top of his book as I dug through the half of the closet I was slowly taking up and cleared his throat.

“Wear the sweater,” he mumbled, absently turning the page of his book.

I turned to him. “Hmm?”

He glanced up at me again. “The fucking lucky sweater,” he repeated. “We could use all the fucking help we can get. Wear it.”

“Oh.” I looked at the sweater that was always in his closet. I wore it at home all the time, wore it out for errands occasionally, but had never worn it to a match. It felt a little silly, and I didn’t feel the need to give anyone fodder to tease us with. I turned back to Roy, who had set his book down by now. “Won’t I look a bit funny, wearing your name with you there in the dugout next to me?"

Roy sat up, his face soft. “I mean, people should get used to seeing you wearing my name.” He paused, tilting his head. “Right?”

I felt myself blush. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought about marrying Roy someday; I’d been thinking of that pretty much since I hit puberty. And the topic had been one that our friends and colleagues teased about from time to time. And it was something I felt myself wondering about more and more lately.

“Oi.” Roy was grinning at me, clearly amused by my silence. “Don’t worry, I’m not fucking proposing after the match or anything like that.” He stood up and came over to where I was, wrapping his arms around me. “I mean, someday, sure. But not today.” He kissed my forehead. “Alright with you?”

Roy Kent wants to marry me someday. Roy Kent wants to marry me. Roy Kent wants to fucking marry me.

I gave an embarrassed laugh and returned his hug, pretending that he hadn’t just filled my heart with more love than I knew how to carry. “Alright. I’ll wear the fucking sweater then.”

Clad in my dark blue sweater, KENT screaming across the back in white lettering, I stood by the coaches all game long, screaming and cheering louder than usual. Rebecca had been lovely enough to get my family amazing seats, and I swore I could hear my father’s shouts above the rest of the crowd. I tore my eyes away from the gameplay to check the clock, which was fast approaching the 100th minute. By some incredible miracle, we were up 2-1 and just needed the ref to blow the fucking whistle.

As we watched the boys do all they could to keep possession of the ball and push towards Arsenal’s goal, I felt Roy grip my hand tightly and heard him muttering “Come on, fuck, come on,” under his breath non-stop.

Fweet fweet fweeeeeeeeeet!

“Holy fuck!” At the sound of the final whistle, Roy picked me up and spun me around, squeezing me so tight I swore I’d have bruises the next day. Everyone from the dugout raced onto the pitch, where the team was screaming their heads off, jumping on each other like children.

I spent God knows how long on that field, hugging sweaty men and kissing their faces, shouting out expressions of pride over the roar of the fans who were forcing their way onto the pitch. Roy finally pulled me back to himself with urgency, as if he couldn’t bear to be far from me for long.

“Are you fucking crying?” There was a loving edge of teasing in his voice as his thumb swiped across my cheek, which I hadn’t even realized was wet.

I nodded, not caring that I was full grown woman weeping over a football match. “Fuck yeah I am,” I confirmed. “They fucking did it, Roy.”

He shook his head and wiped away more of my tears. “We fucking did it. You’re part of this team. Don’t you ever fucking forget that.” He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my chin, every square inch of my face. “I love you,” he mumbled as his mouth finally found mine.

“Love you too,” I managed to huff out between kisses that were slowly becoming heated as the boys began shouting the Richmond chant at the top of their lungs and formed a conga line. “Watch it, or Jamie’s gonna give you another warning about keeping things family-friendly.”

“Fuck it. If they wanna broadcast this, we might as well give ’em something worthwhile.” With that, he dipped me backwards, latching his lips to mine in a way that could only be described as cinematic.

That kiss was as if he’d managed to peer into every girlhood fantasy of mine and decided it wasn’t enough. As if he’d taken every great rom-com kiss and wanted to show them how it was done. I knew my girlfriends were sitting in a pub, cackling with glee about how I had twenty-eight posters of this man in my childhood bedroom and was now snogging him on national television. I knew my parents were in the stands, my mum beaming with joy at seeing me so in love, my dad playfully grumbling and asking if Roy really had to kiss her like that, but unable to help the smile on his own face. I knew we’d have to endure lots of teasing at the team celebration, with the guys egging Roy on to kiss me like that again, and with Roy giving in after having just the right amount of shots that would make him forget to be grumpy. And I knew I’d be thinking about this particular kiss for a very, very long time.

As I touched his face, wondering how long we could get away with this embrace before we crossed over into truly insufferable, my mind drifted back to our conversation that morning, and an obvious realization hit me: I want to kiss Roy Kent for the rest of my life.

~

Rebecca’s email took me off guard. It was a week since the Arsenal match, and Roy was outside putting our suitcases in the car while I double checked the reservations for the weekend holiday we’d planned to celebrate the end of the season. It was supposed to be a simple, easy weekend, full of food and drinks, relaxing, reading, maybe a little sightseeing if I could convince Roy, and no football whatsoever. Just us, a normal couple. But now Rebecca’s email would be looming over my head the whole time.

Roy noticed. Of course he noticed, he noticed everything when it came to me. We had stopped to have lunch and for once, I was quiet. He tilted his head at me as I poked at my food.

“Alright. What the fuck is wrong?”

I looked up at him, the concern in his eyes contrasting with the harsh way he spoke. “Nothin’,” I lied.

He shook his head. “Come off it. I’m not going to spend my first chance to actually relax in months with you not talking to me. You’ve got me too used to all your fucking prattling.” He reached out and took my free hand as his voice softened. “Come on. We’re supposed to tell each other things. Fucking vulnerable, remember?”

Despite myself, I smiled at our favorite word. “I, um, got an email from Rebecca this morning.” I squirmed, not quite looking at Roy.

“Doesn’t she know it’s your fucking break?” he teased, clearly trying to help me relax. “Fuck does she want?”

I set my fork down and took a deep breath before I spoke at hyper speed. “Rebecca wants to make me the Assistant to the Director of Football Operations. Working directly under Higgins. She says they both were very impressed with everything I did this season, and they want to see what I can do with more responsibility. And Higgins wants more time with his family, and he and I get along so well already, and it would be a really great opportunity-”

“I know.”

His suddenness caught me off-guard. “What d’you mean you know?”

He bobbled his head in that nervous manner of his, half-smile playing on his lips. “Rebecca and Higgins came to the gaffers before the Arsenal match and asked what we’d think of the move.”

My stomach fluttered as I stared at him. Fuck, I should have ordered a drink.“And what did you tell her?”

Roy sipped the beer he’d been smart enough to order. “Told her she could fuck right off if she thought she could move you out of our office.” He smirked and shrugged. “And that you completely fucking deserve it.” He leaned forward earnestly. “You’re too fucking good to stay down there with us, babe. You should be running the whole fucking club, not just bossing around me and Ted and Beard. You are going to be amazing. I’ll fucking manage to figure out how to get to interviews and press conferences on time, I promise.”

Tears I didn’t realize had formed threatened to fall when I saw the excitement and pride glowing on his face. “Just put a fucking reminder on your phone, you idiot,” I managed to choke out.

“See, it’s that loving, patient guidance I’m going to miss when you’re upstairs plotting your hostile takeover of the football world.” Roy lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Almost as much as I’ll miss seeing your gorgeous face every time I walk into our office.” He squeezed my hand. “Take the fucking job.”

“It’s a pretty great job,” I murmured, gazing at our hands. “And I mean, who knows, maybe someday I could have Higgins’s post.”

Roy’s smile widened when he saw me seriously considering the position. “Ruthless woman. I’ll let Higgins know you’re coming for his job.”

He earned a laugh from me. “We’ll see how I like being his assistant first,” I assured Roy. I squeezed his hand, thinking. “I’m just really going to miss sharing an office with you, y’know?”

He shrugged. “Guess we gotta figure out a way to make up for all that lost time.” He paused, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes suddenly became shifty. “Say, what do you think of that flat of yours?”

I almost choked on the sudden shift in the conversation. “My flat? It’s fine. I like it well enough.”

Roy’s face became serious. “But d’you really like it? Because I’d be willing to move in, but fucking Oscar’s spoiled and likes having a yard. I really think he’d prefer it if you moved in with us.” He licked his lips anxiously. “I’d fucking like it too.”

Roy wants to live together. Roy wants to live together. Roy wants to live together. “You want me to move in with you?” I squeaked, wondering, as I often did, when I would wake up from the dream I was living in.

“You already have your own key. You’re there even more than your own flat. Half your shit is already in my closet. I fucking hate it when you’re not there. Besides, you can’t fucking cook, so I’d like to make sure you’re well-fed.” He shrugged. “D’you want to?”

He was doing that thing. That thing where he acted like something was insignificant and casual, like it didn’t matter too much, when underneath he was a ball of nerves, anxiously waiting for an answer. It was a defense mechanism, for sure. A way to make sure people knew that whatever they said didn’t matter to Roy, even though I knew that what I said mattered to him very much. It was, in my opinion, one of the most adorable and attractive things he did.

I didn’t make him sit in that nervousness for long. “Yeah. Yes. Definitely.” My smile was probably the dopiest, silliest one I’d ever worn. “I’d love to.”

“You sure? You don’t seem too thrilled.” Roy grinned and leaned back in his seat, staring at me for a moment. “Look at you. Kickass new job, moving in with your dishy boyfriend. Your life fucking rocks.”

“I’m sorry, did you just call yourself dishy?” I snorted.

He cleared his throat, cheeks tinted pink. “Fucking saw someone call me that on Twitter the other day. Figured my girlfriend would agree.”

I shook my head and laughed. “God, what’re you going to do without me in the office telling you when you sound like an absolute wanker?”

~

The off-season involved a lot of moving on my part. First, I had to pack up my entire flat and move everything into Roy’s house; luckily, Roy was right when he said that half of my things were already at his place. He’d managed to wrangle the players who weren’t away on holiday to help us move all the boxes one afternoon, rewarding them with pizza and beer, which somehow evolved into a karaoke party in Roy’s- our­- living room, with Oscar jumping from person to person, just waiting for someone to drop a slice of pizza.

It was well past midnight by the time everyone left; I assumed Roy would want to go straight to sleep after the exhausting day we’d had. Instead, he dragged me into the kitchen once I’d changed into an old Sunderland shirt of his.

“Didn’t you have enough pizza already?” I asked, stifling a yawn. “’m ready for bed.”

“Just have one thing to do first,” he mumbled, rummaging through the fridge. “Grab a couple of glasses from the bar, yeah?”

Rolling my eyes, I did as I was told, picking up a pair of wine glasses that Keeley had gifted us in honor of the move. When I brought them back to Roy, I stopped in my tracks.

On the counter was a chilled bottle of champagne and a tiny cake, just perfect for two. Roy leaned on the counter, eyeing me carefully, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What’s all this then?” I breathed, blinking from either the tiredness or the surprise. Maybe both.

Roy shrugged, picking up the bottle. “Fucking celebrating of course.” He opened the bottle with ease, but not without champagne starting to flow out. “Shit, bring me the glasses,” he laughed, trying to avoid spilling everywhere.

The kitchen filled with sleepy giggles as we managed to get most of the champagne into the glasses rather than on the countertop. Once we’d finally gotten our glasses filled properly, I sat in my usual spot, with Roy opting to stand next to me, gazing at me softly. He held up his glass.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, tapping his glass to mine with a small clink.

My cheeks warmed as I sipped my champagne, staring at Roy as he did the same. Maybe it was the late hour and my tiredness, but it didn’t feel real, moving in with Roy. And it wasn’t even because it was Roy freaking Kent; rather, it was because I found it hard to believe anyone was capable of feeling the intense love that burned in my chest as Roy handed me a fork and slid the little cake towards me.

We ate and drank in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the clinking of forks against the plate and Oscar pattering around and our soft chuckles every time our eyes met. After Roy put everything in the sink, mumbling something about taking care of the dishes in the morning, he turned to me, sleepy smile on his face.

“Oi, you brought the blanket, right?”

I had this one particular blanket that had always laid on my couch in my flat. My gran had made it, and it was, without a doubt, the warmest, comfiest blanket in the universe. Roy had gotten in the habit of stealing it from the first time he’d come over to watch The Sound of Music and often brought it to bed when he spent the night. Honestly, there was a very real chance he asked me to move in just so he could have the blanket at his house.

“Um, yeah, it’s one of these boxes somewhere…” I ran my fingers through my hair, eyeing the ridiculous number of cardboard boxes that now decorated Roy’s- our­- house.

Before I could suggest he waited until the morning to look for it, he had already walked over to one of the boxes and started digging. Since he clearly was not going to bed until he found it, I figured I might as well do the dishes. I was rinsing the glasses we’d drank champagne out of when I heard-

“What the absolute fuck is this?”

When I turned around, there were two Roy Kents in the doorway. One was my boyfriend, shirtless and ready for bed, eyebrows raised higher than I’d ever seen them, his mouth wide open in amusement, laughter bursting out of him. The other was cardboard, clad in his Richmond uniform and wearing a scowl.

“Oh fuck!” I nearly dropped the glass I was holding. “You weren’t- that box was supposed to go to my mum’s- shit!” I was choking on embarrassment as my face turned redder than a tomato.

In all the years I’d spent watching him on television and the countless hours I’d now spent in his presence, I had never heard Roy Kent laugh so damn much. He was doubled over with laughter, wiping away tears and making so much noise he woke up Oscar.

I turned off the sink and stormed over, folding the cardboard cutout back up and tossing it on top of the box it had come out of. With a huff, I turned to Roy, who was finally starting to breathe again.

“It was a gag gift from my dad for my birthday a few years ago,” I mumbled, not looking at his smug face. “Kept it because my mates and I thought it was funny to bring out when we watched matches at my place. I was going to take it to my mum’s, figured one of these days I’d sort through all my… football things and throw some stuff out and decide what to do with the rest.”

Seeing the humiliation on my face, Roy sobered up and grabbed my shoulders. “C’mere,” he chuckled, tugging me close to himself. “Please tell me you were not going to throw that thing away.”

I shrugged, still avoiding his gaze. “Probably. I dunno. Wasn’t planning on deciding that right now.”

“Hey.” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at the tenderness in his eyes. “Don’t you dare be fucking embarrassed.” He tilted his head when I let out a little hmmf. “Did I… did I ever apologize for bringing up your posters that night?”

We both knew what he was referring to.

“Dunno,” I muttered, knowing full well that the answer was no. We’d never brought up that particular comment.

“Oh.” Roy’s hands slid off my shoulders and he grabbed my hand, leading me to the couch. We sat, and he kept my hand in his. “I’m sorry. I… I never want you to feel embarrassed about having a fucking crush on me, alright?”

I shrugged, glancing away. “It’s… it’s silly. All those posters and the sweater and now the freaking cardboard cutout. It just reminds me what a crazed stalker fan I was before we met. Makes me feel a bit embarrassed.”

He smiled and shifted closer. “It might be a little silly,” he agreed. “But it’s also fucking flattering.” He brushed some hair out of my face. “Y’know, when I first saw all that stuff in your room, I thought my heart was going to fucking stop. Because there you were, my stunning new officemate, with my stupid fucking face on your walls. Even the really bad pictures.” He shrugged, suddenly bashful. “Made me realize I had a real fucking shot with you.” He gestured towards the folded-up cutout. “So, I know when you see that shit, you feel embarrassed and all, but when I see it, I remember how fucking excited I got when I realized that you were at least attracted to me. And how seeing you get all flustered, just like you are right now-” He poked my nose affectionately. “-gave me the guts to kiss you.”

To punctuate his point, he leaned over and gently pressed his lips to mine, reminding me of that moment in my bedroom, where he sat on my bed and asked if he was still hot and kissed me for the first time. It felt just as surreal now as it did then, and I asked whatever god was out there to not let me wake up from this dream.

When Roy pulled back, he wore that same fucking smile, the one I didn’t think I’d ever get used to seeing. “Right. Help me find the fucking blanket so we can get some sleep, hmm?” Holding my hand, he helped me to my feet, and the two of us set to work, looking for the blanket so we could finally go to our bed.

~

Working for Higgins was an easy adjustment. I loved my new office upstairs; I had put up photos of Roy, both of my little orange sticky notes, a couple drawings from Phoebe, pictures with Keeley and Rebecca, Oscar, the team, my family, Roy’s family. The handmade card that Ted, Beard, Roy, and the whole team had signed to congratulate me on the promotion sat on my desk, alongside a framed photo of Roy kissing me after the final game against Arsenal, courtesy of Keeley, who’d found it in a tabloid.

I loved having my office right next to Higgins, who liked to pop in for a chat in the late mornings, and brought in treats that his wife made for us to share, and tapped out a beat on our shared wall when I played my music loud enough for him to hear. He listened excitedly to my ideas and suggestions, and he quickly stopped referring to me as “Assistant to the Director of Football Operations” and began calling me “Assistant Director of Football Operations”; it was a change everyone at the Dog Track was quick to adopt.

But I had to admit, my favorite thing about my new office was the window by my desk. As much as I missed my office that I had shared with Roy, this office had one great advantage: the view. My window overlooked the pitch, where I could watch training. Meaning, I could watch Roy. When my window was cracked open, the way it always happened to be when the team was on the pitch, I could hear him screaming “Whistle!” and swearing at Jamie. Sometimes I’d just stand by the window and watch for a bit; that always managed to catch his eye, and I was always rewarded with a smirk and a wave from Roy, sometimes some teasing whistles from the team or a cheerful “Howdy!” from Ted.

After a bit more than a full season working upstairs, I found myself skipping from Higgins’s office to mine. We’d been pursuing a great young player out of Mexico, someone Dani had brought to our attention, and we’d finally signed him. And, despite my insistence that this was a team effort, I had been instrumental in making it happen. So, Keeley and Rebecca decided to take me out to a celebratory lunch, one that Rebecca informed me would take the rest of the afternoon and also required me to dress nice. Accordingly, I had worn heels and a springy little dress that had made Roy’s jaw drop with a soft “Whoa” that morning as we got ready for work. Seeing that man check me out still managed to make my heart flutter with delight.

After popping into Higgins’s office to let him know I was heading out, I went back to mine to open the window and shout down a quick goodbye to Roy. Instead, I found an empty pitch. Weird.

I figured they must have gone into the weight room or something, just a spontaneous change of plans. Par for the course with Ted in charge. So, I made my way downstairs, thinking I’d pop into Roy’s office to see if I could get a proper goodbye.

The changing room was eerily quiet, as was Ted and Beard’s office. I poked my head into Roy’s office, which I hated to admit looked empty since I’d moved upstairs. It was especially empty without Roy. With a small hmmf, I paused to glance over his desk, smiling when I glimpsed the picture of us that sat on his desk, a selfie in front of the Mona Lisa that he’d grumbled good-naturedly about.

“That’s a great picture of us.”

Roy stood in the doorway, kebab takeaway container in hand. He smiled and walked over to me, placing the Styrofoam box on his desk. He kissed my forehead sweetly and let his eyes trail over my face.

“Just wanted to say bye before I head to lunch,” I explained, giving his leather jacket a friendly tug. “You look nice, by the way. Interview today?”

He shrugged. “Just didn’t want to be in fucking workout clothes all day,” he mumbled. He nodded towards the takeaway box. “Got you somethin’.”

I frowned. “Kebabs? Roy, I told you I’ve got lunch plans with Keeley and Rebecca.”

“Open the box.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Roy, I’m gonna be late. Can’t you just toss these in the fridge, and I’ll eat them tonight? Or you can eat them. Or-”

“Just open the fucking box,” Roy said with a laugh, eyebrows raised. “Shit, you really never fucking shut up.”

Narrowing my eyes, I picked up the surprisingly light container. I glanced back at Roy, who nodded at me, encouraging me to open it. With a sigh I opened the lid. Instead of finding our usual lunch, there was a small, velvet box inside and a little orange sticky note that simply read:

To my future wife

XOXO Roy

I snapped my head up to look at Roy, whose smile had grown. Hands shaking slightly, I picked up the black box, letting the Styrofoam container plop back onto Roy’s desk. When I opened the little box, I gasped.

Inside was a diamond ring. It was simple, a small diamond, the exact kind I’d described to Keeley and Rebecca at our sleepover so long ago. I looked back up at Roy, whose eyes had that old anxiety swimming in them, alongside affection and tenderness.

“I’d get down on one knee, but, y’know,” he mumbled, offering up a bashful smile. He cleared his throat. “If I could go back to the first time I bought you kebabs for lunch, I’d have done this. Because every minute of not being married to you is a big fucking waste of time.”

My breath caught in my throat as I blinked back tears. “Roy,” I gasped, my eyes shifting back to the beautiful ring.

He reached over and took the ring out of the box and held it up to me. “What d’you say?” His voice was soft, tender, full of adoration to an extent I’d never heard. “Please say yes.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the familiar phrase. “Yes.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, my heart bursting at the feeling of his smile against mine.

To my surprise, he pulled back. “She fucking said yes!” he hollered, slipping the ring on my finger.

In an instant, every Greyhound player, along with Ted, Beard, Rebecca, Higgins, and Keeley, burst into the tiny office, shouting and cheering and hugging each other with even more joy than when they’d finished first. Someone- Dani and Colin and Sam, I presumed- started throwing confetti around the office while we were ambushed with hugs and kisses and congratulations.

Keeley and Rebecca smothered me in their arms, offering their own words of excitement and joy. I looked at them suspiciously.

“There was no lunch, was there?”

Rebecca scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Roy asked if we could find an excuse to dress you up,” she admitted, tears in her eyes.

Keeley, who was openly crying, held up her phone. “And a good thing! Look how fucking beautiful you look!” Sure enough, I looked gorgeous in the photos Keeley had managed to take of the proposal. But my eyes were drawn to Roy’s face and the absolute joy that could be seen there.

I felt someone grab my hand and tug; Roy smiled down at me as he pulled me close. “Did I do good?” he murmured. When I nodded, he grunted. “Good. I’m actually impressed that these muppets could keep a fucking secret.”

As he pulled me into a proper kiss, Jamie and Sam started a chant that everyone quickly joined in: “He’s here, he’s there, he’s gonna marry her! Roy Kent! Roy Kent!”

~

The night before the wedding, I packed a bag to go stay at my parents’ house, where Keeley, my maid of honor, insisted on having a sleepover so she could see the shrine, as my childhood bedroom was often called.

Her mouth widened into that Cheshire-cat grin as she took in all the posters. “Holy shit, it’s even better than I imagined!” she giggled, setting her things down. “You’re telling me that Roy saw this, and that’s what made him decide to kiss you?”

Sitting down on my bed, I chuckled. “I know. He must’ve really fucking liked me.”

Instead of joining me, Keeley meandered around my room, pointing out different posters and tittering at them. She turned to me, eyebrow cocked. “Alright. Which one is your absolute favorite?”

I bobbled my head, grinning. “Well, there’s always this one.” I pointed above me to the poster of a young Roy that my dad and I had argued over the placement of. I stood and skipped over to the closet. “Or this one.” Taped inside my closet was a picture of a shirtless Roy running, the one that I’d secretly ripped out of a magazine when I was sixteen and spent far too many hours drooling over.

Keeley howled with laughter at the sight of it. “Holy shit, no wonder you’re marrying him, he looks fit as fuck there. Has he seen this one?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I answered, joining in her snickering. “That’s the one secret I’m going to keep from my husband, thank you very much.”

We spent the rest of the night sitting on my bed, gabbing and giggling and sharing the champagne Keeley had packed in her overnight bag, until Keeley knocked out next to me. I gazed up at the ceiling, staring at Roy, unable to believe what my life had become. When I had put that poster up, I was a giggling young girl, fantasizing about what it would be like to meet the guy on the poster, the one who made me betray my family and watch Chelsea matches. And in mere hours, I’d be standing in front of that same man and marrying him.

Oh, if only my teenage self could see me now.

As excited as teenage me would be about marrying Roy freaking Kent (and the fact that we got to shag that gorgeous man), she’d be even more excited to find out that he was kind. And loving. And funny. And good with dogs and kids, despite himself. And that he loved The Sound of Music and reading. And that he was a damn good cook. And that he begrudgingly sang Spice Girls songs on road trips. And that he loved us.

Before I drifted off to sleep, I blew a kiss to the Roy on my ceiling, silently thanking him for his role in introducing me to the real Roy Kent.

~

My hands started to sweat as I heard the violins playing. Keeley had squeezed me tight and shoved my bouquet in my hands before walking down the aisle, where Roy stood with Jamie, who he’d asked to be best man through gritted teeth. After Keeley went Phoebe, in her poofy dress, who, at this point, was probably more excited about the wedding than anyone else.

As I took my position in front of the closed doors, my dad linked our arms, smiling at me with gentle pride. “You ready?” With my mouth insanely dry, all I could manage was a firm nod. “Roy Kent,” he clucked, shaking his head. “You’re really marrying Roy fucking Kent.” He kissed my cheek. “And more importantly, you’re marrying someone who loves you the way you deserve.”

“That I am,” I managed, taking a deep breath as the doors opened.

Roy’s eyes lit up the moment he saw me, just like I knew mine did at the sight of him. As a surprise, I’d asked the violinists to play the wedding march from The Sound of Music for my walk down the aisle; I could see the moment Roy realized it, because he threw his head back and rolled his eyes cheekily.

After my dad kissed my cheek and placed my hand on Roy’s, Roy leaned forward. “My fucking Maria,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“My Captain von Trapp,” I countered with a wink.

~

Rebecca had meant it as a joke when she offered to let us use the Dog Track as our reception venue. But Roy and I jumped at the offer, thinking it was fitting, considering how central A.F.C. Richmond was to our relationship. In the days leading up to our wedding day, we spent hours transforming the pitch into a proper party space, surpassing all of our expectations.

After allowing people to mingle with appetizers and drinks, Ted, who we’d allowed to play emcee for the night, called us forward for toasts. Roy sighed and rolled his eyes, more of a reflex than anything else, and gripped my hand tight as we walked to the stage that Keeley had managed to have brought in.

Roy took the microphone from Ted with a grunt and a curt nod. He let out a deep breath and brought the microphone to his mouth. “Right. So, for some reason, everyone thinks that prick over there is my best friend.” He pointed at Jamie, who stood up, looking prouder than when he was named Player of the Year. “But honestly, this right here is my best friend in the world.” He turned back to me, ignoring the offended scoff from Jamie. “From the moment I crashed her father’s birthday dinner, she’s become my very best friend.” He cleared his throat and gave his head a little nervous scratch. “So, most people who know us know the story of how we got together. Dad’s birthday dinner, posters in the childhood bedroom, secret relationship that apparently everyone at Nelson Road fucking knew about. But, I’ve never told anyone about how I was basically a fucking stalker before any of that.”

I looked over at Roy quizzically. He smirked and continued.

“See, I fancied her the fucking moment I met her. Like, Ted brought her into the office, and I couldn’t say a fucking word. I think I told her not to wear any rank perfume and then just slouched off.” Everyone gave out a light chuckle. “Then I bought her lunch, as a way to, I dunno, make conversation. And we sort of started chatting at work a bit after that. And then this one Friday night she leaves early. And Ted says that he forgot to give her some papers he’d wanted her to work on over the weekend, and he’s all ‘Oh well, she can get it Monday’. But me, being properly whipped at this point, I fucking say ‘I’ll take it to her’.”

My jaw fell slightly; this whole time, I had thought Ted must’ve begged or bribed Roy to bring me those papers. Had he really brought them just to see me?

“I made up some shit about how she told me whereabouts she lived and that it wasn’t too far from my place. And now, looking back, I don’t think he fucking believed me.”

“Nope!” Ted called out with a hearty laugh. “I knew you were in love!”

Roy playfully shot Ted his favorite gesture and continued. “So, I realized I had no clue where she lived. And I felt like an absolute wanker. But then I remembered, we were on some stupid Snapchat group with Ted.”

“You’re welcome!” Ted chimed in again.

Roy rolled his eyes. “And this gorgeous idiot had her location on. So, I did what any sane guy would do: I fucking stalked her. And I turned into fucking Hugh Grant in Love Actually and went knocking on every door in that neighborhood like a right idiot. Until finally, I knocked on a door and saw this beautiful face.” He smiled gently at me. “And I realized right then that I loved that face. And I wanted to see that face every day.” He leaned over and gave me a small kiss. “So, I just want to say, I fucking love you. And I am so happy that I get to see your face and buy you kebabs for the rest of my life.” He took the champagne flute that Ted was holding out to him. “To Mrs. Roy Kent.”

“Mrs. Roy Kent!” everyone repeated, clinking their glasses together and sipping their champagne.

I toasted with Roy and took the microphone he offered me. “All I can say,” I started as everyone quieted, “is that dreams really do come true, and sometimes you get to marry the guy on the poster.” Everyone gave a light chuckle before I went on. “Honestly, though. Anyone who knows me knows that I have had a monstrous crush on this beautiful man for years. Pretty much since the day he made his debut. My poor dad had to watch me put up posters of a Chelsea player on my walls. Best day of his life was when Roy Kent came to Richmond, because it finally meant me putting up Greyhound posters.”

My dad’s laugh was the loudest of all.

“But I realized that today I’m not marrying some guy on a poster.” I turned to Roy and looked into his eyes. “Today I’m marrying Roy. The fit guy I met at work who cooks and who is a wonderful uncle and who loves Dan Brown novels and makes me happy.” I knew my smile was big and silly as I gazed at him. “When I met you, it was a dream come true, getting to know my big celebrity crush. But now, the life I’m living is better than any dream. And I love you for that. I absolutely love you.” I leaned over and planted a heated kiss on his lips, eliciting wolf-whistles from the Greyhounds. Blushing, I raised my glass. “To Roy!”

“To Roy!” came the echo, amidst cheers and sips of champagne.

Rot was relieved when the toasts were over (especially Jamie’s surprisingly tearful speech). We went through the rest of the motions- first dance, dinner, cutting the cake- and finally came to the part of the evening we were most looking forward to: the party. We danced with our friends and drank, reveling in the joy we all shared.

I was enjoying a dance with Beard when Roy grabbed my hand, saying he needed to show me something.

“Roy, can’t you wait until we leave for our honeymoon?” I teased as he led me away from the dance floor.

He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I think you talk so fucking much just so I kiss you to try to shut you up,” he quipped.

We came to a stop at the edge of the party, where a flat wrapped package sat alone. I stared at Roy quizzically as he picked it up and handed it to me.

“I think your office can use some more décor,” he started slowly. “Especially because I heard some rumors about Higgins thinking about early retirement.”

I sighed and bit back a smile. “There has been talk,” I admitted. “Nothing set in stone, but I am definitely in the running to eventually become the D.F.O. once Higgins is ready to hand over the reins.” I gestured to whatever it was I held in my hands. “But what’s this?”

He bobbled his head. “Wedding gift. For your office. I’ve owed you this for a while now.”

My curiosity growing, I quickly opened the gift, letting the paper fall to the floor. It was something in a frame. I turned it over and threw my head back when I saw it.

It was the poster from my ceiling, the one Roy and I sat under when we kissed for the first time, only now it was framed. And more importantly, autographed.

“You’re an arsehole,” I laughed, cupping Roy’s cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips. “And I fucking love it.”

He shrugged, taking the poster from my hands and laying it down so he could hold me, leaning his forehead to mine. “Told you I’d autograph it for you,” he mumbled before peppering kisses all over my face. “I think it’ll look fucking great in your office, don’t you?”

I laughed and nodded. “Even if I don’t become D.F.O., I’ll still have the best office decorations in the building.”

Roy pulled back, studying my face carefully. “Fuck that. You’re going to get it.” He kissed me again. “After all, you’re a fucking superstar.”

I let out a small huff, embarrassed by the praise. “Roy-”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

And with that, he shut me up in the best way he knew how.

~

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @sonyume @djarindroid @reading-blogs @thezimi @benedictscanvasmain @wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff @puckyou-forpuckssake @old-enough-to-know-better73 @ladygrey03 @soundofboots @justsomefunshit @geekgirl1996 @tedssweaters @queen-of-dumbasses @miaalltheway @di-essere-amato @shakespeareanwannabe @hotdoglamp @mal-adaptive-dreams @allthetroubleiveseen @netflix-addict @callmecasey81 @forgetmeaway @royalestrellas @kingleahhh @lemoonandlestars @ghxxxf @jill2629-blog @sunderland-6 @janalustare @ellouisa17

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #24 (Part 1)

Today we're reading PKNA #20: Mekkano AKA Gorthan reads a single line of Shakespeare and has a full Steven Universe moment. Peace and love on the planet Earth and all that.

GUYS LOOK IT'S GORTHAN!!! Remember? From Trauma? I told you guys to remember so if you didn't this one's on you.

Anyways he's about to crash and die a fiery death.

Bro is fighting for his life NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE QUOTING THE LITTLE PRINCE!!!!

Oh ok nvm he's self aware

Once again we bear witness to the fact that Donald is so fucking teeny tiny. All it takes is one big fuckig fist to grip his entire head. Manlet.

Idk why this part made me laugh so hard but literally all it took was for him to bitch slap the gun out of PK's hands and it's like Oh. Well shit.

Scolds Uno and Gorthan for saying hi to each other then IMMEDIATELY makes a corny joke that's infinitely more disrespectful than anything they were doing

I found this random technological doohickey that fell from the sky and idk what it does but now I can use it to power my giant scary machine, THIS IS A GREAT IDEA!!!!!

Ooooooh somebody's jealous of the indomitable human spirit oooooh 🫵

BRO HAD MEASLES????

Makes a robot that absorbs things into its body and then gets mad when it. starts absorbing things.

"I hate you as much as you hate me" y'know I'm getting distinct flashbacks to a certain OTHER villain who claims to "hate" PK but still regularly works alongside him and exchanges casual banter... a certain somebody who likes to raid things........

Damn that's deep.... idk how fast the Evronians end wars though you guys are doing a pretty shit job at invading Earth

Oh NOW you think it's bad??? You just watched it rampage through like half the city 😭

YOU GUYS CAN DROP THE "MY ENEMY" THING YOU CLEARLY LIKE EACH OTHER

Wait LOVE??? Ok jumped pretty quick there let me just revise my last sentence - YOU GUYS CAN DROP THE "MY ENEMY" THING YOU CLEARLY LOVE EACH OTHER

It's right behind me isn't it

Ok now that Gorthan got fucking owned and absorbed into a giant metal horror creature IT'S TIME FOR BURTON LA VALLE ohh yeah baby

Uuuuh there's not a lot to say here it's just Burton La Valle beefing with a dog. If this DOG doesn't stop ruining my shots I'm sending his ass to the GLUE FACTORY!!!

Anyways, with the bonus comic out of the way let me just say: I love this story. Insanely lukewarm take, I know, but the conflict between PK and Gorthan here is just SOOOO interesting man. The constant back and forth between whether or not they're enemies, because sure, they SHOULD loathe each other given the circumstances. They constantly reiterate through dialogue that they HATE each other, and yet, through the story we see that both parties hesitate to take any definitive action against the other. PK does a pretty good job of reiterating it himself here:

There's something so interesting about the way in which Gorthan falls in love with humanity through our literature. Every part of his instinctual self tells him to hate us, and yet he just can't. Perhaps it's self-important of us as humans to assume that anything we do could be so moving, but idk. I think it's beautiful to fall in love with humanity through our ability and drive to create. The Evronians don't have the luxury of feeling and creating, they're pretty automatic beings that just kinda exist to follow orders and conquer stuff. It's a pretty fuckin dismal existence, thankfully most of them aren't really conscious enough to think about it critically. I mean Gorthan was but he got immediately kicked out so...

Anyways idk what I'm really trying to say here other than good story, Gorthan is a good character, I WISH we got to see more of him after this but we don't really. Go read The Little Prince.

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: Bahaha guess what guys I lied, this is gonna be nine chapters total lollll- I promise last time 😭 BIGGEST SHOUT OUT EVER TO @cashmoneyyysstuff for beta reading and being a huge influence on the story - girl's literally my idol go follow her 🤍 Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, reader is 20 years old, Reader uses "Cattus" as her alias, reader's nicknames are Cactus, Cattus and Cat, war, reader gets hurt and burned alive (a lot), reader almost dies again, gore and blood, bad war descriptions lol what do you expect from me, reader is AFAB and female, ANGST, someone breaks into reader's house, Eri sleeps with reader bc she's traumatized, PTSD,

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ: Warrior

How did the enemy know you were planning to ambush them? 

Your entire life, you always believed Fate would either provide you answers, or spur on more questions. 

Right now, you thought, it seemed to give you both. 

It was late at night when you woke up, heart pounding from some nightmare of which the details of seemed fuzzy now. It was silent, but instead of ambience, the lack of sound seemed eerie to you.  

You weren’t a stranger to this happening, random panic attacks and nightmares caused by underlying trauma that you refused to come to terms with.  

You tighten your arms around your younger sister, asleep, the girl insisted she sleep with you from now on in fear that you would leave again (though she didn’t want to admit that she just heavily missed your presence). You didn’t mind, and to be honest, your usual nightmares had been decreasing after the comfort of another human being by your side.  

Laying back down slowly, you brush off your paranoia, heart pounding and you feel the hairs along your skin rise along with a multitude of gooseflesh.  

Something wasn’t right.  

Siting up slowly, you rouse your sister to consciousness, sleepy red eyes blinking back at you in confusion. 

“Y/N...” Eri mumbled, disoriented, but you silence her.  

“Banana, go get Toshi and stay in Dad’s room.” You say, your tone low and firm.  

Her eyes widen in fear, but she nods, scurrying out of the room as quickly as she can.  

You sigh, your family would be safe if you could get rid of the nagging thought in the back of your mind.  

Creeping towards the door, you stop. You rub your abdomen, where the scar from your last battle resided. Tonight, you knew someone was about to get hurt. 

Suddenly, a loud crash reverberates through your home and the wooden door splinters from impact. 

Your eyes widen as a figure clad in black smashes into your home, two daggers unsheathed as he creeps towards you slowly and menacingly.  

The Inimicus insignia flashes in the moonlight and your heart sinks.  

They found you.

You curse under your breath, months to years of training now springing into action purely based on instinct, rolling out of the assailant’s attempt at stabbing you and using the opportunity to grab your sword that was hidden under the sofa. 

Just in case. 

Your family worried about you- saying that you were being too paranoid, your father the most worried of them all considering he felt the same pain you did. But he understood you needed an outlet for your anxieties- just as he released his, you learned, through training you when you were younger. 

He figured that if hiding weapons around the house would ease you a little bit, then it would be beneficial to have your worries about being attacked put at ease. 

Before - prior to any of this - you would’ve relished being right, the satisfaction of an ‘i told you so’

But oh, but you wished you were wrong right now.

You feel your body relax in the slightest when you hear the soft click the the back door closing- your family was at least out of the house. If there were even more assailants outside, your father could handle them alongside Hitoshi. 

But you couldn’t let your guard down, unsheathing your sword from its scabbard and adjusting your footing to maintain a low crouch. During your time training and fighting, you learned to develop your fighting style - yours in particular was more unorthodox compared to the usual ones your peers took on. Most soldiers preferred attacking the higher points of the body, maybe attempting decapitation or a fatal respiratory injury as a way to take down an opponent. 

You on the other hand, stuck closer to the ground, as to you, when it came to combat, balance was the most important. If you maintain yours, while depriving your opponent of their own, you would have a tremendous advantage as you have a clear opening to immobilize instead of eradicate. 

However, this was a different circumstance. 

This man had not only broken into your home, but posed a threat to your family. And for that, you knew your tactics would have you change up a little bit. 

You had most definitely improved after your tualia with Bakugou, and even after your first and upsettingly last battle as well having decided to train yourself under your father’s supervision the months after you came home. 

Your crouch turns from defensive to offensive, adjusting your stance and pushing off of the ground hooking your arm to the leg opposite of it and swinging it out to bring your elbow straight into his legs, forcing him to fall down as you pin them down with just your arm. 

Working quickly, your leg swings out to step on his abdomen, drawing your sword and placing the tip right next to his artery, under his ear. 

“How many of you are there?” you ask coldly, rage flowing through your veins as you press your sword deeper into his neck when he refuses to respond. 

Small beads of blood gather on the tip of your sword and your opponent panics, slowing bringing his hands up to show he means no harm, and removes his mask to reveal a shock of blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes.

You deadpan. What was it with blonde boys in your life?

“P-Please don’t kill me..!” he whimpers, tears pouring down his face (a very punchable face, for the record).

Already? You barely scratched him, you think to yourself, slightly disappointed that it was this easy.

“How. many. of. you. are. there.” you say, lowly, enunciating your words as if it could hammer the meaning into this idiot’s brain. 

“F-Forty s-seven.” he sobs, and your eyes widen.

Your heart sinks. Forty seven men?! Your village didn’t even have the numbers for that many soldiers… how were you going to get everyone out of this alive. 

“Look…” you trail off, realizing you didn’t know the man’s name. 

Then again did you really want to? Knowing his name made him seem more humane, more…like you. Suddenly, the man underneath your feet turning into the man you killed in the Chiara Forest, your heart rate spiking and overwhelming guilt clawing at your brain. 

Shit.

 Your opponent doesn’t know your panic though, and shudders underneath you, starting to mumble out his name. 

“I’m Aoy-” he starts, but you cut him off, something snapping inside of you. 

“Just stop. Here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to tie you up and leave you in the well. You are going to call for help. I need you to scream.” You growl, the look in your eyes deadly, hinting as to what would happen if he didn’t follow your directions. 

However, the man nods vigorously, and you do exactly what you told him, using some tough rope you found in the shed to bind his wrists and feet together once positioning his limbs in a way that would be painful if he tried to adjust or move them, using a cloth to gag him temporarily for the journey to the well outside of the Kirishima’s home. 

How ironic is it, that this all started from that same well, and now it could all end there too?

You heft the man into your back, the size difference unconcerning to you given that you were strong, and he weighed absolutely nothing. How did this shrimp even manage to be eligible for the military in the first place?

 You hear a crash outside, flinching and realizing that you probably weren’t the only one fighting these Inimican spies. And you most definitely were the only one with enough fighting experience in this village. 

You had to work fast.

Deciding to leave your home through the backdoor, you slip out quietly, breathing in relief when you don’t see any black clad assailants there waiting to ambush you. 

Making your way to the Kirishima’s along a secluded path you knew by heart, you make your way to the well, wrapping your fingers around the rope and tugging it experimentally to see if it would support the blonde man’s weight. It seemed sturdy enough and so you hefted his figure onto the side of the well, making sure he held onto the rope tightly enough, and you removed the cloth covering his mouth. 

You don’t give him a chance to say anything, holding the front of his shirt with a relentless grip as you stare at him in his eyes, wide with fear. 

“If you don’t do what you’re told, I’ll end you here and now.” you whisper, no malice in your tone, and yet that makes the words even more chilling. 

The man nods frantically, releasing him and watching him descend down the well at a rapid pace, hearing a thud and a crunch one he makes it to the bottom, making you wince a little bi.t At least he wasn’t dead, the echoing cry he let out when he reached the floor was a dead giveaway. 

You hear him start screaming, his voice strained and raspy from the amount of sobbing he’d done, and the echoes of the well amplify the pitiful sound, the desperation definitely evident.

Doing all of this felt wrong, but honestly, you didn’t really care at the moment. Your village was in danger. 

You heard some footsteps approaching in the distance, putting your plan in action and slipping into the shadows of the Kirishima home. 

“Aoyama!” a deep male voice calls out. “Is that you?” 

From where you were, you could see a shock of white hair and electric blue eyes. And his face… it was mottled almost, littered with so many scars the lower half of his face looked purple.

“L-Lieutenant Dabi! D-Down here!” the man who you realize is called Aoyama croaks out, ruining your wish for the blonde to remain anonymous, but that didn’t deter you.

You had a mission.

Hearing three more pairs of footsteps, you see three figures to match, including a man with skin so oily it looked like verdant scales, a blonde man with haunted blue eyes, and a wild haired brunette with amber eyes. 

“Wait-  is he in the well?” the blonde snickers, only for his amused expression to be taken over by a stricken expression of grief. “Oh shit, is he okay?!”

It was an odd display of events, but you chose not to comment on it as the one called Dabi commanded his men.

“Shuichi, use your sword to cut the rope- then if we dangle it low enough we can pull him out.” the white haired man says, the oily skinned man nodding in assent and drawing his sword out of its sheath. 

You remembered during your time in the military about the weapons the Inimicans preferred, the most common being that of a katana. You, on the other hand, used something else. The Belloran army had a tendency to use weapons with more power, valuing strength over speed, something you picked up on once seeing the heavier swords in their arsenal, and of course, your fight with Bakugou.

But when you trained, you trained for speed, choosing to fight with dual swords instead. Dual swords, you learned, paired with your fighting style, allowed you to become the best of both worlds, both refined and strategic which aligned with Inimican fight styles which still being able to channel heavy amounts of strength and power into every strike, making you a formidable opponent for both Inimcans and Bellorans alike. 

The one called Shuichi approached the well, cutting the rope and making sure Aoyama was securely holding on before he started hoisting it. 

Now was your chance. Over the past few months of training, your father recommended carrying metal stars with sharp serrated edges. He said it would help practice your aim as well as your concentration as to where you enforced your strength. Ever since then you started to train with them, and they were always on your person or in a place easily accessed no matter where you were.

Thank the gods for that, you think, taking one of the stars from the folds of your clothes, and holding it in between your index and middle finger. 

You take a deep breath, angling the star ever so slightly and positioning it. And then…

Release.

The star slices through the air like it’s nothing, pure strength over powering wind resistance as it slices through the rope of the well in twine. 

You hear Aoyama’s agonized screams as he falls again, shallow breaths echoing and reverberating through the well, hauntingly.

But you can’t let the horror overtake you, knowing that in the midst of battle, feelings are to be processed later. Even so, you can’t help but wonder if this is what Katsuki meant- true strength of a warrior meant coming to terms with the conflicts outside of you but inside as well. 

Stop it, you chide yourself, taking advantage of the group’s momentary distraction and running quickly, tackling the closest man next to you, the one with amber eyes. 

Your dual swords each target vital areas of the man’s body, your forearm tightening around his neck as one sword is grazing his artery on his neck and the over ever so slightly hovers over his abdomen, ready to plunge into his torso. 

It’s a threat. And one that they know you’re capable of, given by the steely glint in your eye.

Two of the men spring to action, forgetting about Aoyama, the one called Shuichi drawing his blade and the blond getting into a fighting stance, as the brunette lays deathly still in your arms, one wrong move and he’s dead. 

However, the first man, Dabi, seems unfazed. He gives you a lazy smirk, and waves his hand nonchalantly. 

“At ease, you two. I don’t feel like killing her just yet…” he drawls, brimming with overconfidence. “She reminds me of a little poppy, no? A pretty flower of death. And yet so easily crushed the moment a boot iss brought down upon it.”

You feel rage boil up inside you. How pompous is this asshole to think he could defeat you so easily?!

Then again, you thought about your fight with Bakugou. You were by no means weak, and you reassured yourself that. But even so, Bakugou managed to win. Would you lose against Dabi too?

And this time…you wouldn’t be spared as you would in a tualia. This is war. 

“Let me strike you a deal, poppy.” he says, stepping closer. “Let’s battle it out, me against you. My men won’t interfere. If you win, I will escort my troops out of your village.”

“If I win,” his grin turns deadly. “Well let’s hope that doesn’t happen, huh poppy?”

You narrow your eyes, tightening your grip on your swords. You could almost smell the power radiating off of this man, but you knew that if you didn’t take his offer, your village wouldn't stand a chance.

You exhale slowly, glaring at the cocky man in front of you. 

“Deal.”

***

Maybe, you realized, his overconfidence was earned. 

You weren’t a stranger to fighting losing battles. From your tualia with Bakugou to dumb arguments with your siblings, you always kept going, even though the outcome was going to be the same. 

In front of you, stood Dabi, the man in question had waved his men away to scout the village for more rope to rescue Aoyama with. 

And in the Lieutenants hand, there was a sphere. 

Magic, in your world, was a rare commodity - and even rarer was one who could manage to wield it. Common forms of magic called yose were sold in the richer markets, and if you could find them, they were used more like a collectors item, a mark of status if you had one, which showed just how rare it was in the first place. Most, when attempting to use magic, had their physical forms decay from the inside because their mortal forms couldn’t handle power used by celestial beings.

However, there was a gene that resided in a total of nine families in the world, (one for each god) who was blessed to be able to wield said power.

And you had the misfortune to encounter one of them.

The sphere in Dabi’s hand was bright blue, and yet it didn’t resemble that of water or ice, instead the sphere consisted solely of cerulean flames - you could feel the temperature drop as soon as it materialized. 

When you were young, Chiyo told you stories about each of the families, each of high status and a standing in any family was extremely coveted globally. 

Fire… Dabi was a Todoroki. 

Shit.

You were, inadvertently, fucked. 

“This is what it’s like to play with fire, poppy.” he grins, a manic look taking over his face. 

You grimace, lowering yourself into a fighting stance.

This was going to hurt. 

With a yell, you charge at Dabi’s unmoving form, your feet moving you, faster, quicker, allowing you to flow with the wind. 

Horror washes over you as flames engulf his hand, and then his arms, blue flames licking his skin but he doesn’t show any sign of being in pain.

You desperately slash at his neck and chest, bringing your arms to form an X before slashing outwards. But your blades do nothing, as Dabi mimics the same X and thrusts his arms forwards, shooting flames out in every direction. 

“Ah fuck!” you grit, tears pricking your eyes as flames burn through your flame, creating scalding burns in their wake.

Your swords clatter to the ground, your hands in so much pain you couldn’t feel them. Where the fuck did he find magic so powerful?! No market sold enough yose to generate enough power like that…

“Aw, down already?” Dabi pouts, “I thought you’d burn a little slower.”

You muster up the iciest glare you could. “F-Fuck you, you damn sadist.” You spit, venom dripping from your tone. 

Dabi only smiles. “C’mon poppy, that’s no way to talk. We’re having so much fun, afterall.”

You wanted to kill him. 

Your whole body protested, screaming in pain, bloodied fingers, grasping the hilt of your nearby sword.

You run at him again, flames again searing your skin, but you keep running, pain now shooting up your leg as you lunge at Dabi, an amused expression on his face as you keep running, plunging your sword into his shoulder.

This clearly takes him by surprise, wondering where your spontaneous bout of strength came from as blood drips down his torso, a bright red that was accentuated from the coming sunrise, rosy rays peaking out of the horizon. 

Dabi’s smirk goes away, replaced with an impassive expression as he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing slightly as he pulls the sword out of his shoulder with his other hand.

Suddenly, the world spins, lack of blood, oxygen, mixed with overwhelming pain and fatigue made it hard to keep your eyes open. 

Shit!

The panic sets it, fuck were you going to die, actually die?!

The last thing you smell is the scent of melting flesh waft into the air as everything goes black.

The last this you see are those sickening electric blue eyes, and wide bloodied grin.

The last thing you hear is Ejiro’s voice yelling “Y/N?!”

Wait.

Ejiro?!

Taglist: @andysdrafts @starieq @nemisimp @missa-archdevilme @coquettefoxxy

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[aihoshiino]

chapter 152 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 9

Aqua Hoshigan Status: White??!???!?!?

WELL DAMN. OKAY. LET'S FUCKING GO I GUESS.

With the End Of The Play… miniarc? interlude? wrapping up, Oshi no Ko officially confirms we're in endgame territory and slams down on the gas to barrel full speed towards its conclusion. This chapter was definitely a mixed bag, but I didn't dislike it and I SURE CAN'T SAY IT WAS BORING AT LEAST………….. It reframes a lot of things that lead up to it - I suppose that makes 'recontextualization' the keywork for this chapter, then.

The return to the volume 1 interviews in this chapter were kind of a surprise LOL. Given that the anime trimmed all but Ai's, I kind of took that as an implicit confirmaton that they weren't really that important so it's a bit of a jumpscare to see Gotanda (& Aqua's) revisited here. That said, revisiting them here is more about clueing the viewer that we're caught up chronologically with those flashforwards and thus that everything from this point on is officially uncharted territory, so I still do think cutting them from episode 1 was the right call to make. I don't think it causes any plotholes or incongruities since these interviews are really kind of incidental in the grand scheme of things… also let's be real I don't think any of us are expecting the anime to get that far into the story, even if I would give my left leg to see the anime team work their magic on chapter 137………………………….

That said, it's pretty fucking rich for Gotanda to try and talk big about the movie not being fictional when we heard from the horse's mouth that Abiko and Yoriko just fucking made up the dynamics of one of the most central and pivotal relationships in it out of thin air lol. Not only that, but like…

15 Year Lie is a movie with a pretty clear narrative. This by itself is natrual and expected. Narrative is the shape in which the human brain most readily accepts information but to create a narrative about something is to fictionalise it. Even when it's a narrative about real events - because narratives are, themselves, fiction. They have cleanly defined beginnings and ends, arcs and the promise of neatly packaged payoff and catharsis that is impossible to achieve in reality. To create a narrative about Ai's life in any form, let alone in a movie made for mass general audience consumption, unavoidably necessitates reducing her to a fictional character to observe rather than a fellow human to understand.

Which is… you know, horrifying! Fucked up and ghoulish! It's exploition of Ai in death just as she was exploited in life and I really wish the Movie Arc had actually focused on that uncomfortable undercurrent. This was, after all, supposed to be a movie about Ai.

BUT ANYWAY, CAST SCREENING OF THE MOVIE… we get some detail about reactions to the content but even as characters are literally talking about the movie and Ruby's extremely important role in it they just conveniently avoid discussing the content of it. But surely with all those important scenes that were set up and with the public release of the movie and Kamiki's side of the story to tell, we'll get some more details, right??? [audible copium huff]

Akane's tearful reaction is interesting, though. They're specifically singled out as not being to do with the content of the movie and her expression is a bit ambiguous - you could read is as resigned or relieved just as easily. I think she has clearly recognized something about Aqua's revenge in the movie which prompts that reaction but who even knows what's going on with akane at this point lol. sure not akasaka.

The girls all ragging on Ruby's acting was also kind of… like, yeah, remember when Ruby not being a good enough actress to carry a whole movie was kind of a huge issue??? The fact that this is resolved by everyone saying "yeah it was bad but idk aqua made it good somehow" was kind of silly lol.

I do really like Melt stepping in to stick up for Ruby, though - because yeah, of course hearing that would probably bring up some bad memories for Melt…! I also like that he doesn't try to shallowly flatter her or butter her up - he's frank about where she still needs to improve but hones in on the part that really matters. He really is a good kid.

That said, him sticking up for Ruby and her glomming onto him and calling him 'Master' (ししょ/師匠, shishou, as in the master of a craft addressed by their disciple, in Japanese) does kind of highlight that the MLRB mentorship that got set up in 144… went nowhere??? We can assume by Ruby's response to him here that it happened offscreen but it really does feel like a total waste of time to have spent what was effectively an entire chapter on setting up a new character dynamic that just didn't happen. Like… really, in hindsight, what was even the point of that chapter other than to establish that Melt… was also here??? I guess we still have the final arc for that to resolve into something but.

It just kind of sucks because I think a MLRB friendship could be really fun! I think they have the potential for a good dynamic and there's some really interesting parallels between them both that are ripe for farming. At this point, it's probably way too late for us to expect anything to come of it, so I can only daydream……..

tho it is really funny to me that at this point, since 143, ruby has had more meaningful on panel interactions with melt than she has aqua. What Did They Mean By This.

Gotanda and Kaburagi's talk that followed also left me with pretty mixed feelings. As expansion on/closure for Kaburagi (and Gotanda to an extent), I think this was fine… there's just a few little details that bother me, I guess.

On the one hand, I really like Gotanda's frank admission that there's no way to know whether the movie really captured the 'real' Ai. This is another thing I've talked about over and over during the Movie Arc but nobody making this movie is really in a position to be making that call - the only person who really could is Ai and… well, she's not here anymore to advocate for herself. Seeing Gotanda acknowledge that does scratch some of what was left unitched by this thread but…

Eugh. I don't know. Something about this movie, which is about Ai's life, Ai's tragedy, Ai's final push to be shown to the world as she was and to potentially be accepted being made to be about Gotanda's regrets just feels kind of icky to me. Maybe it just feels especially bad because it feels like 15 Year Lie has become more about every other character involved than her. I'm sure people are sick of me complaining about it, but it really does feel like Ai as a figure of emotional importance to this story is getting increasingly downplayed and dismissed and…… just feels bad, I guess!!!!

Kaburagi's side of this conversation is a lot more engaging, at least. This does tragically represent the end of my Secret Villain Kaburagi Theory and I feel decidedly mixed on the story choosing to frame him so sympathetically… but on the other hand, I do like how this implication of guilt and sense of responsibility reframes basically all his prior actions in the manga. It seems to confirm that he clocked Aqua (and thus by extension, Ruby) as being Ai's child right from the start and explains why he was willing to go so far in pushing their careers along at little benefit to himself - it was out of atonement to Ai.

that panel of young kaburagi and baby ai having lunch together. fuck, man. the fact that she took the burger out of the wrapper like she does in viewpoint b………….. babygirl i loev u so muuuuchchchchchchhchchchchsjsjsskasklsndkdkd

and……………………….. now it's time for aqua's interview. Jesus Christ.

I like the recontextualization of Aqua's interview here and the way we see This Mysterious Interviewer gradually pick apart his responses. I especially got SUCH a thrill out of his 'I won't love anyone' schtick being called out as the bullshit it is - one of my first really meaty OnK metas was of Aqua's interview segment specifically and I zeroed in on this sentiment specifically as being a lie that Aqua was trying to project and seeing the text back that up makes me a very happy Claire

But more importantly though… what Aqua has to say after that makes me particularly excited.

First of all, let's get it out of the way: KAMIKI JUMPSCARE!!!!!!!!! It seems implicit that he was the one doing all the interviews which is very fucking funny considering his presence in the movie itself, but I'm not entirely sure it changes or adds much other than giving Aqua the opportunity to death note speech his ass.

What is fascinating to me about this talk is what it implies about Aqua. Every time we've seen his revenge play come up before this, the very strong implication is that Aqua intends to die at the end of it, either by Kamiki's hand or his own. But here, face to face with the man he's dedicated his entire life to ruining, Aqua doesn't just state his intent to get revenge but his intention to reclaim his future by doing so. We've gotten some pushes towards this since 150 but this is the clearest declaration of his intent to finally seize hold of this second chance and fucking live it that we've gotten out of Aqua… honestly, ever!

And accordingly, we see Aqua return to his white hoshigans here. I don't necessarily know if I want to call this slam dunk confirmed but this WAS really exciting to see given how it falls in line with my interpretation of "white hoshigan = hope = future" and "black hoshigan = despair = futurelessness". Everybody has been spending the last few chapters basically begging Aqua not to throw away his future and hurt the people he loves just to chase his revenge and it does seem like they're starting to get through to him.

Is this development kind of rushed? Honestly, yeah! I would've loved to see this explored more from properly inside Aqua's POV and it feels especially abrupt given how hard he got ignored all during the post-123 section of the Movie Arc. But at this point, it just feels so fucking good to see Aqua say out loud that he wants to have a future, that he wants to finally move forward and live that I can't bring myself to care. I just want him to finally be happy!!!

that said how fucking funny is it that the closest thing aqua has gotten to therapy in years is from his estranged father, a serial killer

break next week…!

[nightfall-1409]

like its ok to wish that hunter did more to get crosshair out but i will say PLEASE stop saying that rescuing the literal helpless child from the child murdering fascists was somehow wrong of Hunter.

also like. can we stop undermining the very clear and obvious way that crosshair liked the power that he was given in the empire, especially over others, he was radicalized. he convinced himself that the war crimes were justified in the name of power. that is a far bigger problem and something that is going to haunt him far longer and requires a lot more to undo and forgive (and some people will never and should never do that, and others can't bc they are Dead)

to say it was all the effects of the chips, at this point in the series, its just not true. the events of aftermath specifically are 100% the chip. Everything after that is up for debate. We don't know when it was taken out, but at some point it was, and crosshair's pov is that it doesn't matter when, bc he likes where he's at. Had he not been abandoned by the empire on Kamino for so long, I doubt he would have ever changed, had Cody not deserted after confronting him about what it was the clones were doing, I doubt he would have ever changed. Had he not been forced to see Mayday's struggle and fight to bring him home and still after everything they both gave after everything suffered mayday died not in battle but because someone couldn't be bothered to even try to help him, I don't think he would have changed. I don't think Hunter could talk him out of it, and maybe he didn't try hard enough, or really, at all. Crosshair's version of loyalty, though, is blind, unquestioning, a soldiers loyalty. Obeying what they were doing, things that Hunter couldn't obey, and would have made him a monster to do.

But I can't imagine the disgust I would be forced to contend with if like, my family member came forward like "oh yes we're built to be soldiers, that doesn't mean preserving or protecting innocents, It means power and killing those who get in my way. its my purpose in life and i think you're stupid for not getting over the moral objections" like what do you even say to that. Hunter at that point had SEEN what the empire was doing. They both had, their home planet, (and head canons aside, all clones did in fact, in canon, see it as their home.) orbitally bombarded to secure power. How do you talk someone out of that, if fundamentally what your disagreement is on the value of life. You don't. Hence Hunter's demands in S3E5 to know what changed. What finally made Crosshair realize what he believed, about power and his purpose, was wrong.

Crosshair didn't want out. Crosshair was upset they didn't stay. He saw their purpose as being with the Empire. They escaped and ran and deserted. If they weren't with him, in the Empire, then they should die, like the Jedi, and Crosshair did absolutely believe that.

So this is all to say that. they are not equally responsible for what happened to their squad. Crosshair didn't have a choice at first— but once he did keep running right over that line. And a lot of us hoped that he was lying about the chip, that he wasn't entirely responsible for all that he did. But he was. That's clear at this point.

Even the whole chip matter— it's prolly really hard for Hunter to separate it. logically, he knows it was partially the chip at this point. But at that point in the story he watched someone he was incredibly close to nearly kill them all and at the time he had no idea why. If Hunter'd not grabbed Omega by the leg and tripped her she would be shot dead. If omega hadn't surprised Crosshair by shooting his gun out of his hand he would have killed Hunter. He shot wrecker, to use him as bait against the rest of them? Like, again, we all knew about the chip, but I can understand the emotional toll of such a thing bc he DIDNT at the time. The betrayal in that moment? How do you let it go?

But thats all fine! its interesting its character development and its the story they were determined to tell. But like. we can be honest.

Now if someone thinks that im wrong i'd love to know what exactly hunter needs to be sorry about, and why he's equally responsible that doesn't like either downplay the war crimes and murder and doesn't throw Omega like directly into harms way and under the bus.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #36 – Life Does Not Allow Us To Meet by He Xi

I read this basically entirely because it got a hugo nomination, and assuredly would never have tried it otherwise – I literally wouldn’t even have heard of it, let alone be able to get my hands on a (digital) copy. So I went into this with frustratingly little context. Overall I’d call it an interesting read if not necessarily a loveable one.

The story follows a trio of explorers being sent to the colony of Caspian Sea, decades after the previous attempt to check on its progress was lost in a freak FTL accident. The planet, seeded with a population of genetically engineered ‘pioneers’ - humans modified to thrive in its environment - needs to be graded for suitability, and the colonists introduced to advanced technology and welcomed into humanity. Unsurprisingly, things do not go according to plan – the last mission’s destruction wasn’t as reported by the lone survivor, and the population has strayed increasingly far from the plan the Constitution of Earth demands.

Its heritage is of course entirely different, but the story was just incredibly reminiscent of old Golden Age American sci fi to me. The reason is some combination of style and content, I think. It’s overwhelmingly a novella of dialogue and exposition – pages at a time are dedicated to one character explaining a principle of the story’s science or technology to another. With the exception of the very final reveal, the whole plot is dialogue explaining the laws which the story is an expression of or decisions that they had already made – ‘action’ in any sense is in very short supply (despite the genocide). Reminded me of reading my dad’s ratty old paperbacks in the basement as a kid. Oddly nostalgic reading experience.

Prose-wise the story does come across as slightly stilted? Or maybe distant is the better word. Characters emote and have strong reactions, but in nearly every case it felt a bit tell-not-show. I’m not sure how much of that is from the original and how much is an artifact of translation (such is life for the tragically monolingual). While I mean, I’m fairly certain the translation could have been more graceful in places (I simply do not believe that referring to the original colony ship as Big Ship as a proper noun reads the same in English as whatever the original Mandarin was), but beyond that.

Speaking of being in translation – this is a story that made me desperately wish I was more properly familiar with the Chinese SF scene. If only because my initial reaction to it is that it’s obviously in conversation with the whole Three Body Problem series, but also those are literally the only two works of Chinese science fiction I’ve read so I really have no knowledge at all of the wider context they’re both swimming within.

Regardless, Life’s presentation of alien life absolutely does rhyme with Three Body’s, right down to the same examples of historical genocides being used to make the point. The xenophobia is presented as policy rather than an actual law of history, but it feels like a very intentional reference (and the story clearly considers it at least plausible if not necessarily self-evident). Which is what drives the central moral drama of the story – that despite the most careful possible genetic engineering, stellar radiation has left the pioneers of Caspian Sea incapable of reproducing with earth-born humans, and so made them functionally a different species. And thus, by the constitution of earth, axiomatically a potential threat to the survival of humanity that must be exterminated out of hand.

Going from Children of Memory (a series motivated in large part by wonder and joy at the idea of truly nonhuman intelligence, and possessed of ironclad faith in the potential of cosmopolitan, liberal societies to integrate wildly disparate parts) to this was something of a shock.

The book’s vision of humanity is kind of interesting, honestly. Subspecies modified to thrive on different planets, but capable of interbreeding to ensure some level of biological solidarity or shared destiny or something. Not making drastic changes to the appearance, even if it means awkwardly hiding gills under arm pits or not even trying to colonize worlds that would require exuding a thick mucus layer, basically explicitly to make sure that everyone will still find each other fuckable. Fascinatingly shallow, almost?

Anyways yes, interesting ideas and central drama, let down some by prose and execution. Very Asimov.

[winn-schott-throughtheheart]

Since you mentioned her in the last post, what are your feelings/headcanons on the whole Winn/Lyra situation? I’ve always wished people talked about it more, I hated them together but I was also hopeful that it would turn into a really insightful plotline that would bring in some of his past trauma and give him a little more to do than comic relief, but, well, we know how well the show did with literally anything about his character depth 🫠 I have some fics I wrote about it but it always felt like too oddly specific a subject to publish since she was such a minor character, so now that I’ve found someone who likes Winn as much as I do I figured asking for your thoughts would be the next best thing!

oh my goddd don't even I hate her so much.

she had NO problems hurting winn at all, but the moment she gets captured she's suddenly all "I never wanted to hurt you, you made me do this." SHE FRAMED HIM FOR GRAND LARCENY!! and I highly doubt winn had divulged his past experiences with law enforcement and criminal activity to her, but honestly that might make it worse?? he cannot catch a break or a decent partner omg

when winn and james go to find her at the trailer park, she LITERALLY SAYS SHES PREPARED TO KILL HIM!! SHE THREATENS TO KILL HIM! she's sexually domineering and physically violent, which is shown more than once. she completely disregards all the effort winn goes to to make last minute plans for valentines day and, when he expresses he prefers to get to know someone first, forces herself upon him anyways. he mentions her leaving bruises on him, which I admit could have been consensual, but based on literally everything else, i wouldn't get my hopes up, especially considering just how quick she is to anger. if the roles were reversed, and a woman went to the effort of getting her boyfriend's favourite dessert so she could let him down as gently as she could, only to have him fly off the wall, smash a bottle in her face and threaten her with physical violence in a public setting, he'd be the most hated character in the show! but because he's a guy, it's fine, right?? it's funny?? AND JAMES IS AT FAULT HERE TOO BECAUSE HE WITNESSES THIS, AND STILL THINKS ITS APPROPRIATE TO GET THEM BACK TOGETHER!!!! and the fact that winn goes right back to her after is actually so upsetting, i would hedge the bet that he's never had a good relationship in his entire damn life.

and I don't know if you've heard of the analogy with cats, wherein if someone expresses hatred or disdain for cats (usually on the basis that they're "unpredictable" or "can't love you back" or "difficult") then it's actually just an issue of them not respecting the cats boundaries and consent. lyra. eats. cats. or at least she thinks it's funny to joke about. im so fucking glad she wasn't a recurring character, 5 episodes or however many she gets is already too many. anyway tldr I fucking hate lyra <3

also pleaseeee please send me any fics you have if you're comfortable!!! I'd loveee to read them!!! obviously as long as it's not painting lyra in a good light lmfaooo

[pannman]

Other Motives

Part 2

Yandere Vox x Trans Masc Delivery driver reader

Tw: manipulation, mind control, possibly non consensual kissing at the very least dub con, yandere behavior, toxic relationships

Working for Vox wasn't really that bad. You got paid decent. You were treated well. And you were given a vehicle to do your deliveries

Although it seemed almost like special treatment compared to Vox's other employees. His assistant getting blamed for everything and being forced to run around practically the entire building when not following at Vox's heel. Poor guy

You on the other hand were practically fawned over. Vox constantly checking in to make sure everything was to your liking. Were you getting enough breaks? Did you need anything? Were your coworkers being respectful?

You didn't know why you were being treated differently but you decided against questioning it. Anytime you got to questioning it Vox would look you in the eyes and you'd feel your worries melting away and the rest of the world disappearing around you and then you would completely change your tune

There were a few things that were also odd. Whenever you made a delivery Vox always wanted you to check in with him. But of course that was just his way of making sure you were safe

And he also insisted on having lunch with you whenever possible. But you were sure he was just trying to make you feel welcome... right?

It wasn't until you got kicked out of your apartment that things started to escalate. Your landlord was so sure you were the tenant that stole from him. You insisted you had nothing to do with it. He insisted that you return what you had stolen or pack your bags

Since you literally DID NOT steal from him. You were forced to leave. You showed up to work as you did every day but apparently your boss could tell something was wrong

"Come on. I know that face. You can tell me what's going on" he reassured you. You did have a closer relationship with him than anyone else. So you opened up to him

"I got kicked out of my apartment. My landlord thinks I stole from him. Which I didn't!" You started crying. You had never been homeless before and you were sure being homeless in hell would be ten times worse. He sat down next you and pulled you into a hug

You leaned you head on his shoulder. You felt so safe with him. You felt in that moment that you would do anything for him

"I'll get you one of our employee apartments" he said in a soft caring voice. You looked up at him in shock. "No you don't have to do that. I'll figure something out."

Once again though he looked in your eyes and you felt yourself relax and your resistance towards his help diminish. You felt like you owed him your life

"You will move in to one of our employee apartments. Let me help you" he spoke with his voice making you a bit sleepy. "Ok" you replied. He was right. You were just being stubborn and he was only trying to help

"I wish there something I could do to repay you for everything you've done for me" you wanted to show him how much you appreciated him. But you didn’t have much you could give him

"Your friendship is more than enough" he said finally releasing you from his arms. You thought for a minute. What could you do for him? What could possibly offer him that would be even close to all that he's given you? At this point you would give him anything. Your life, your heart, your soul....

"What if I give you my soul" you offered. You were ready for him to turn down the idea immediately. It almost seemed like he perked up a bit though. But you chopped that up to him just being surprised by your boldness

"I mean... if that's what you really want. I wouldn't take it unless I felt you trusted me with it. You do trust me... right?" He leaned in staring into your eyes. Those damn eyes again. You barely noticed his voice get distorty before you answered with confidence "yes. I trust you. I will give you my soul"

"Then its a deal" he said.

"So do we shake hands?" you asked. He chucked. "I have a better idea" he grabbed your face and pulled you into a kiss

Your mind melted and your heart fluttered and you barely registered the glowing electricity in the air and the heavy feeling of a chain around your neck. You sunk into him and he kissed you harder pulling you into him more and more

When you finally pulled away. There was this feeling. This sinking feeling in your gut. You looked at him and saw his eyes. They looked different. They had this hypnotic swirl in them. Suddenly you had memories you didn't before of that same hypnotic eyes wedging their way into your subconscious. The warmth you felt suddenly felt icy cold. Dread filled your entire body from head to toe as if something had been holding it back until now

What did you just do?

Part 3 will be coming

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Chapter Sixteen: Chocolate

The time it took the chocolate to freeze seemed like a century, but it might’ve felt that way because Penny was still cross with him after their squabble. She stayed in her office the entire time. Sirius had begun working on an antidote for the chocolate, while he waited for the ice box to do its job, and tried to work out in his mind how he would sneak onto the Hogwarts Express without notice. The answer he arrived at was the easiest — he would need to be at King’s Cross before any students arrived and hide himself on the train as soon as it pulled in. The cart all the way at the back of the train was least likely to be occupied, and it wouldn’t be a long trek to the Forbidden Forest from there once they reached Scotland. He could’ve sworn he remembered a cave they’d found in their sixth year somewhere near the creek in the heart of the forest. With any luck, he could live there while he put his ultimate plan into motion.

Standing from the sofa, he walked to Penny’s study and leaned against the door frame. She was at her desk, drafting something on her box, the clicks of her fingers the only sound in the room. Sirius glanced at the photo of her and her friends that hung beside the bookshelf, wishing yet again that he had met her under different circumstances.

“The chocolate ought to be ready by now,” he said, looking back at her. “I thought I could hide it somewhere in the flat and let you try to find it, but I think it might be best if you weren’t here when I did. Just so we can be sure it does actually work.”

Her fingers still moved over the letters on her rectangle as she answered. “Okay, just a second.”

Sirius nodded, turning to go back to the sitting room but pausing and turning back toward her. “For the record, I do trust you. I just don’t think you realize what you’re getting yourself involved with. If the wrong person from my world found out that you’ve been helping me, it could quite literally up-end your life. I couldn't live with that.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just wanna do what I can to make sure you don’t go back to prison?” she asked gently. “Not just because you’re innocent, and not just because of your godson.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “I like you, idiot.”

Sirius snorted, lowering his eyes as his cheeks grew warm. It had been years since he had felt anything for someone else, and given the atmosphere in his world, it frightened him more than he cared to recognize. His heart fluttered in his chest, making his ears thrum along as he looked back at her. “I like you, too.”

Her lips twitched with a smile that she seemed to be trying to temper as she rolled her chair back and stood, walking up to him. “Then let me try to help you. I may not be able to do much to try to keep you from getting caught, but I can at least try to help you prove that you didn’t murder all those people.”

“Penny —”

“I know how to do things under the radar, and I think I may have a few ideas that no wizard would ever think of. Muggle ideas.”

Sighing to himself, Sirius nodded once. “Alright. But you must promise me that if there’s any chance of someone realizing what you’re doing, you’ll stop immediately.”

Smiling in satisfaction, she went back to her box and shut it off. “I promise. I’ll be careful.”

“And I’d like for you to read A Guide to Self-Protection with me so that you can properly shield your flat from anyone who gets too curious.”

“How am I supposed to use magic? I’m a muggle,” she replied.

“Yes,” Sirius said. “But your uncle is not. And since you plan on enlisting his help anyway, it’s logical to ask him to help you stay hidden.”

“That’s fair,” she replied.

“Alright,” Sirius repeated. “Now, off you go. I’m going to hide the chocolate while you’re out. Give me about five minutes and then come back.”

“Sure. By the way, nothing’s gonna happen if I eat the chocolate, right? I mean I won’t, like… sprout wings or something, right?”

“Why do you insist on asking silly questions such as that?” he asked with a light smirk. “No, you won’t grow wings. The worst that’ll happen if you eat it is that you’ll feel as though you’re in love for a few hours. Don’t worry, I’ve made an antidote for you.”

“Oh, okay,” she replied. “Okay, I’ll just… go for a walk, I guess.”

Nodding once, Sirius moved to the side to let her pass him, and waited until he heard the front door close before he went to the ice box, and got out the chocolate. He pulled out his wand and used it to break the chocolate into quarters, hiding each piece in a different spot. Going back into the sitting room, he sat on the sofa with the antidote in hand and tried to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable if the chocolate worked.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed as the door opened again and Penny walked in, her eyes darting around the room.

“God, that smells good,” she mumbled under her breath before looking at Sirius on the sofa. “Now what?”

Snorting softly, Sirius bobbed his shoulders. “Just follow your sense of smell. Try to find where I’ve hidden it.”

Her nostrils flared as she took a deep inhale, her eyes closing as she turned toward the bookcase by the window. She stood in front of it for a moment, looking at each shelf before she raised up on her tiptoes to reach above it.

“That was easy,” she mumbled as she pulled down the piece of chocolate he had stashed up there.

He expected her to find that one straight away and continued to watch her closely as she popped the chocolate in her mouth. Her eyes widened as she slowed her chewing, looking up at him.

“Holy shit, this is the best chocolate I’ve ever had,” she said, swallowing once. “Seriously, you should totally think about being a chocolate maker.”

He smirked softly. “I suspect you may think that due to the magic inside it.”

“Would magic make it taste different?”

“To you it would,” he answered. “What are you feeling?”

“Hm, like I could eat ten pounds of this,” she groaned, her eyes closed as she savored the chocolate.

Sirius’ eyes were drawn to her throat as she swallowed once, twice before letting out a soft breath. Her eyes opened, lips parting as though to say something when her brows suddenly furrowed. She turned her head toward the hall, sniffing the air again.

“You know, I bet��” She walked towards the scent she had no doubt picked up. “I bet it tastes great even without the magic.”

“Perhaps I’ll make you another batch sometime,” he called out. “Without the magic. Then you could decide if you truly think it’s the best you’ve ever had.”

“You promise?” The door to the hall closet opened. “Oh!”

Sirius smiled to himself at the sounds of her chewing another piece of chocolate. “Certainly.”

“Ca yu ake it wi nufs?” she asked, still chewing her second piece as she came back to stand at the end of the hall.

“I beg your pardon?”

Taking a few moments to chew and swallow what was in her mouth, Penny asked again, “Can you make it with nuts?”

“Oh… sure,” Sirius replied.

“Why’d you —” She sniffed the air, turning her head as she sniffed again. And again as she went back down the hall. And one more time before opening the door to her bedroom. There was a brief lull of silence, then more chewing. “Why are there so many?!”

Sirius smiled to himself. “There aren’t that many, are there?”

Once again she emerged from the deeper parts of the flat, standing closer to the coffee table.

“I’ve found three so far,” she replied around another bite of chocolate.

“Do you make a habit of speaking with your mouth full?” he asked playfully.

Penny’s eyes narrowed, squinting slightly as she continued to chew the chocolate in her mouth. Swallowing, she let out a breath, swaying just a bit as she slowly blinked. A rosy flush was creeping up her neck, and Penny used one hand to fan herself before she pulled off her jumper, tossing it toward the sofa.

Noting the small, circular shapes against the front of her shirt, Sirius lowered his eyes. “Alright, Penny?”

“Yeah,” she replied breathily, her blinks still slow. “I think it’s —” Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply again, exhaling with a soft moan.

The sound made prickles bloom along the length of his arms. Sirius closed his eyes in an effort to chase away the images forming in his mind of her bare skin pressed against his, his hands following the curve of her spine. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he tightened his fists around a few curls, using the sting in his scalp to distract himself from her more potent scent, lingering beneath his nose even as she turned back toward the hallway.

The scent of the final piece he’d hidden enticed her back down the hall toward her study. It took a bit longer than the other three — he had made sure to hide the final piece beneath quite a few layers, just to be certain of the tweaked spell’s strength. If she could find that final piece, he could easily lure Wormtail into the hidden passage at the base of the Whomping Willow.

Standing from the sofa, Sirius made his way down the hall and stood in the doorway of her study. Penny was sitting on the floor, chewing with her eyes closed with her hands balled into fists on either side of her. A gentle hum blew through her nose, her body becoming like liquid as she laid down on the floor. The rosy hue that had spread from her neck now painted her cheeks, a light sheen of sweat covering her face.

“Alright?” he asked, watching her closely.

“Mhm.”

Sirius’ tongue darted out to swipe over his bottom lip as he turned his head away. “Seems it works then, yeah?”

Softly humming, Penny swallowed the final bit of chocolate and let out a contented sigh.

“Yes, it works,” she said, her eyes still closed as her chest steadily rose and fell with each of her breaths. “It’s not as strong as when I smelled it.”

“It isn’t so concentrated.”

A barely audible hum was her only response as she opened her eyes and rolled her head to one side, looking up at him. “Will you come lay with me?”

Sirius remained perfectly still for a moment before taking a few steps toward her, the hammering of his heart rippling down his arms. Her scent was thicker, more sweet than it had been before as he sat on his heels beside her, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to resist the urge to press his nose against her hair to take it in. Biting his bottom lip, he held the antidote out to her.

“Here, take this. It’ll counteract the chocolate.”

She shook her head. “You should know how much time this whole chocolate plan will give you to expose him. Just lay with me for a minute.”

Deep down he knew she was right, and nodded once, moving to sit down before he set the antidote down beside him. Slowly, he shifted his bottom toward his feet and laid on his back beside her, staring up at the ceiling. If he stayed completely still, he could ignore the little voice in the back of his mind telling him how good it might feel to snuggle up to her. Instead he focused on the voice reminding him that she was under the influence of a spell that was derived from Amortentia, and therefore would likely cause some of the same symptoms. To take advantage of that would be unethical at best.

“At least I don’t feel a compulsion to make out with you,” she said in a gentle chuckle.

He snorted subconsciously, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “To be honest, that is both a shame and a relief.”

Penny laughed breathily, one hand coming up to wipe at her forehead.

“Shall we watch another muggle film later?” he asked, trying to distract her from the symptoms as best he could.

“Sure,” she replied. “Let’s just order in tonight. I don’t feel like cooking.”

“Brilliant,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the ceiling when he felt her fingers tangle with his, sending a spark of electricity through him. Glancing at her from the corner of his eyes, Sirius fought the urge to curl his fingers around hers.

“There’s a Greek place down the street that has the best grilled octopus I think I’ve ever had.”

Swallowing thickly, he took a few deep, silent breaths before replying, “I don’t believe I’ve ever had Greek food. Grilled octopus you say?”

“Mhm,” she replied. “I can get you the menu in a minute. Can we just stay here for a second?”

Nodding, Sirius turned his head to look at her. “For as long as you like.”

From how the chocolate was affecting Penny, it seemed Wormtail might not be much trouble after all. It seemed too easy, and experience told Sirius that nothing was ever easy. The easier you thought something to be, the more devastating it was when or if something went wrong. Still, it was a small sliver of hope that perhaps, just this once, things would go his way.

Penny brought their hands up, seeming to examine his fingers and the tattoos that were etched on his knuckles.

“You have really long fingers,” she said, her own fingertips tracing the length of his. “Did you ever play the piano?”

One corner of his lips curled slightly as his mind filled with memories of him and Regulus sitting at the piano in the sitting room at Grimmauld Place, playing the Black family lullaby until their mother would call them for tea. It was one of the few memories of his youth before Hogwarts that didn’t make Sirius want to curl in on himself. Of course, Walburga had never seemed to want Sirius to have anything good, and playing the piano with his little brother eventually had been taken from him, along with anything else that brought him joy.

“I used to play a bit when I was very young,” he answered.

“You have the fingers for it.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “How long does this stuff usually last?”

“Normally, up to twenty-four hours.”

For a moment, she was silent, but it didn’t last long. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

Penny propped herself up on an elbow and reached over him with her free hand to take the vial with the antidote. She tipped it back against her lips, swallowing it in one gulp before she handed the vial back. Almost immediately she was more alert, sitting up beside him as the pink in her cheeks slowly began to fade. A light sheen formed on her forehead and neck, her breaths heavy as though she had just run a mile.

“He’s gonna wanna cuddle you if you feed him that much chocolate,” she said, shifting to turn slightly toward him.

“Good,” he replied, sitting up beside her. He made no effort to pull his hand out of hers, instead curling his fingers slightly around hers. “The more pliant he is, the better.”

“What are you gonna do once you have him?” she asked.

Sirius glanced at her, silently wondering how she would react if she knew that what he wanted most was to take from Wormtail what he had taken from James and Lily. Something told him she wouldn’t be very fond of that plan, but Sirius could think of no better justice. Still, the last thing he wanted was to frighten Penny by telling her that he was fully intending to kill the man who had murdered his best friend.

“I’m not sure yet,” he replied.

Staring back at him, Penny tilted her head as though she could see right through his facade. “Don’t lie to me.”

Sirius lowered his eyes, grazing his thumb over a small scar on the back of her hand. “Perhaps it’s better if you don’t know.”

“Sirius…”

“Penny, don’t. You don’t understand, you weren’t there —”

“Then help me understand,” she said, pulling his hand onto her lap.

“Wormtail didn’t just betray us, he handed two people who had never been anything but good to him over to the man who wanted them dead. He made Harry an orphan. He deserves to pay for that.”

“So you’re gonna kill him,” she surmised.

“It’s what he deserves.”

“No, he doesn’t,” she replied. “He doesn’t deserve to rest after what he did to Harry… and Lily, and James. And you.”

His gaze came back up to hers.

“He doesn’t deserve the easy way out. And you don’t deserve to live with the burden of having murdered someone. Think of Harry; who does he have if you get put back in prison?”

Sirius bit his lip to keep himself from saying out loud that Harry deserved far better than anything he could offer. Whether it was that he was too jaded, first from having been in a war and then locked away in Azkaban, or the guilt he felt over a decision that led James and Lily to their death, Sirius didn’t feel worthy of being in Harry’s life.

“They’re likely to throw me back into Azkaban regardless of whether or not I’m innocent,” he replied.

“You don’t know that,” she argued. “And if you kill someone then you have nothing to bargain with.”

The corner of his lips curled upward, though there was no mirth in the gesture. “You’re far more optimistic than I am, darling.”

“No, I’m just apparently more strategic than you are,” she replied with a smirk.

“Oh, is that right?” he asked, mirroring her smile.

“Yeah, it is,” she answered. “There is a path where you can clear your name and not have to run anymore, we just have to find it.”

His smile widened as he arched a brow. “We?”

“Yes. We.”

“Right. What are we going to do then?” he asked, glancing down at where their fingers were still tangled.

“That’s what we need to figure out,” she answered. “We have the rest of the week to come up with something.”

He could see there was little he could say to deter her from becoming too involved. And if he were being honest, it felt good to have someone on his side, especially in the face of being regarded as a murderer by his own community. His fingers subconsciously tightened around hers as his chest filled with warmth. Licking his lips, he lowered his eyes and nodded once.

“Right now, though, I’m hungry,” she said, earning a snort from him. “Aren't you?”

“Yes, actually. Suppose I should cherish the days I have left where I can eat a hot meal.”

Penny smiled softly, though there was a hint of sadness in it. “If you took me with you, I’d feed you well every day.”

Smiling back, his free hand came up to lightly pinch her chin. “I don’t doubt that, but I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“I know,” she replied, one of her shoulders bobbing lightly. “But it’s nice to think about.”

His eyes lowered to her lips as the impulse to kiss her moved through him like an avalanche barrelling down a mountain side. But if he did that, he might not ever want to leave her side, and that interfered with his duty of keeping Harry safe. Still, her lips looked so inviting, the thought of tasting them so tempting that he had to force himself to avert his eyes. With the last of his control, he stood, pulling her up by the hand he still held in his.

“Let’s make the most of the time we have left then,” he said. “So, in keeping with our tradition, which muggle film shall we watch tonight?”

Another sad smile pulled at her lips. “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory seems like the right answer,” she said, her eyes down at their joined hands. “But I don't have that one, so Back to the Future it is.”

One side of his lips curled upward as he subconsciously stroked her knuckles with his thumb. “Sounds perfect.”

[professional-bulshitter]

just went back to watching community again and I cant-

so this time it's about 'Regional Holiday Music' 3x10,, and adhagsjjsb it's so fucking good because in a manner it sort of addresses all the wants of the characters right? because to convince them to join the Glee club they need to be incentivised and the incentive in this case is what's so interesting to me:

because 1. it starts with Abed and we all know Abed and how he's all he wants is to be together and loved and he chases the belongingness that he didn't find before in the study group right? but also literally the only thing that cory had to do to get him on board was talk about making him and his friends feel better and be together,,, but also it's literally because media of any kind be it behind the screens or people singing is so much simpler for him to understand cause they are catered and made in such a way that they are easy to perceive and take in without it being more complicated and involving other people's feelings in it

which is Great on its own but the second person to get 'caught' is Troy (because obv Troy will follow Abed wherever he goes, because even when he can't follow he'll wait for Abed to come back to him and tell him about his side quests or just be there for him, but I digress-) but also it's because there's this one thing he's always wanted to be a part of and could never but then comes Abed giving it to him on a silver platter and letting him do the things he wants even if it is by providing him with a loophole

and then third is pierce who even though I loathe him, i do understand (ish) because at the end of the day he's a man out of time and place, he's within people he doesn't understand and who don't want to understand him because all he wants to do is relive his glory days instead of rooting himself in the present (which in large part the study group help him with) (he'll never be my favourite character or even a liked one but I see him and I feel sad because of what he is and always will be and the way he came to be this way) all he ultimately wants is to be 'cool' maong his peers even though both of them operate on different understandings of cool (and yeahhhh)

fourth is Annie which, is very very weird to me because we never really get to know what her song was, what her one wish/incentive was,,, but also is it really that hard to assume that she would cave in when confronted by one of the first few people that she could safely feel as if in the company of friends with? also and this is a straight up hypothesis but I do feel that Annie didn't really get a song to convince her because it wasn't that hard to do it because it didn't really matter because at the end of the day it started with Abed telling her that he stayed for that experiment despite being angry because she was his friend,, and this was her way if reciprocating that (because it was just that given, be ause some things don't need to be explicitly stated to be explicit) (but then why did troy have one? because he was technically going against his entire belief system and the way he identified and looked at himself and that is life changing in some manners and he was still the second one and yeah)... maybe

the fifth one was Shirley and this one is rather simpler because at the end of the day, she traces and finds herself within her belief system rooted in Christianity (which while not for mez i can understand the way belief systems can be very all or nothing for some people) and she just wanted to educate and empower children and people with things that she herself feels empowered by (she goes about it entirely the wrong way ofc because forcing religion on others is never an answer but I don't think nad never have that she's coming at it from a malicious position or intention

then we have jeff and like Annie it's very curious that he doesn't get something that he wishes to incentivise him (at least that's the way I understand that episode) instead, we get to see what Annie and further the audience thinks or is supposed to think about Jeff. He's still that impenetrable (hehehe) person that no-one can actually understand because yes he's an asshole but he's constructed in a very stereotypic asshole kind of way so that's all we get to see from him at that point in time (that's all we're supposed to perceive him as which is why unlike others he never joins in on the song) instead all we get is that he also succumbed somehow. but we're never told what made him submit and give in,, we're always made to look at him from a distance (at least till that point in time and show trajectory) and he might be the main centre of the show (ish arguably more around Abed but plot more centered around him (also I'm very very biased cause I deeply resonate with Abed)) and yeah

and then Britta who again doesn't get a song at all because,, and again throwing arrows in the dark here,,, ofc she has a bad voice and narrative voice isn't really imp to Cory and his performance but also because much like Jeff, there's an induced sense of distance, wherein she technically is supposed to be the main female protag at that point (at least that's the intention it seems to have started with) but in many manners, she's reduced to just that, they make her dumb and so unlike the other main heroines (and I will never not be angry with the way they changed her character post season 1) that at the end of the day that's all she ends up being (again till that point in the show's trajectory)

and yeah ,, and then then at the end of everything, Abed gives up on what he wanted for the group as a whole because he realises that this is not actually happiness that it's creating in everyone, because it's forcing them into roles that they've been tricked into and that's never what he wanted,,, yes he wants them to be together but not at the cost of the happiness of even one of them or all of them and yeah

also anyone that says community is just a silly little show, it is. But it's also so much more because the way it talks about created families and families of choice and being an outsider and trying to find belongingness,,, and in the end finding a place that lets you be the trainwreck that you are and helps you embrace it, is insane and great. And I love the way community as a whole does all of that while feeling so organic and experimental but also insightful and a well thought out piece of media with actual things to say and yeah

(also very unconnected to anything I've just said but I truly despise Shirley's song with everything in me,, I'd ironically and unironically listen to all of the rest of the songs in this episode but not that one (yes including whatever was going on with that Annie mean girls esque but make it worse and yeah)(they are bops honestly 🤷‍♀️)

i will go now but yeah I love community (also also last thing but this is the only way that I'll ever be able to fully digest random musicals in any show because community just does it better, I said what I said.)

[transzilla]

god, I think you described me.. just skimming the tags when I saw the bit about forcemasc on a transitioned man.. I feel like such a teenager when what I want to be is a man. I don't know how to take it and demand my respect. I feel like I've lost so much not growing up this way. Can I still grow and be changed? Be forcemasc'd like I want to be even though I'm "already there"?

Bro, yes, literally yes... I wish I could just like haunt and possess some of ya'll sometimes and forcemasc you from the fucking spirit realm like a forcemasc demon LMAO

So a lot of the time your feelings of inferiority are coming from yourself. We suffer the most in our imagination. But if they aren't and it actually is somebody not respecting you, don't shy away! Examine it. If I was there I'd absolutely grind your face in it. When you do feel embarrassed somewhere and people aren't taking you seriously as a man I need you to go full humiliation kink and examine everything you possibly can. The most educating moments of our lives are frankly fucking horrible and you won't grow as a man if you aren't paying attention. The beauty here is observation, like is it something I'm doing? Are there any other men who are also being demeaned? I want you to know exactly where the pain is.

We need times in our lives when we are basically teenagers, stunted, clumsy, awkward shitty theatre kid versions of the men in our lives, all our feelings of shame and dysphoria are for a reason. We cannot truly eliminate weakness in ourselves if we can't find it, and the best way is exposing it. And that's a really humiliating process because a lot of us started way late at the most subtle exhibitions of masculinity. These cis guys have been doing it their whole lives.

But like, give yourself some credit, you're not the moron here. We aren't kids. We are adults and we can learn faster and adapt faster than kids can. Question your own perception! Are you really that far behind? I think honestly for the time you've been a man and the obstacles you've gone through to get to where you are you've been doing pretty damn well. You've dealt with things that majority of cis men would not be strong enough to deal with.

Do not be uncomfortable with your material reality because if you can't face it and look at yourself and all of your flaws you can't improve. You need to go out and do things and experience humiliation in order to expose all your weaknesses, and then work to eliminate them. Don't just shoot yourself down all the time, oh I can't do that, I'm too weak, I'll never get there, it's too scary, etc. like, come on, this is your life, this is serious. be a fucking man LMAO.. when you can force respect from yourself then you will be able to make other men respect you. That's the first step.

It just takes the nastiest ordeal to get there. Sometimes the ordeal is coming from us! We terrify ourselves. We torture ourselves worse than any other man could ever dream of. Start smaller and smaller, understand that your feelings of terror are jealously guarding your potential to be a man like a hen guarding its eggs and you need to just bare your teeth and rip that piece of shit limb from limb and take what you are entitled to.

Like let me stay grounded here. When I first started what I do for work, tree removal, it was incredibly embarrassing and nobody respected me. And they were right. Like I could barely use a chainsaw, I couldn't pull the cord fast enough to turn it on, couldn't lift the fucking thing. I didn't know shit about anything, and I couldn't figure out shit about anything, like I was lacking entire thought processes that other dudes could do starting in kindergarten, it went all the way down to going to lumber yards and boys getting excited over big machines and tractors, they were familiar with everything and had decades of experience on me while I was still learning how to be a man. There were some jobs I didn't stick around very long at, hahaha.

But then I learned, like I wanna say it took me about two years to get up to speed, And I took the piss and I accepted consequence. As soon as I stopped demanding immediate, fairy tale perfection from myself and my life and stopped with "should'ves" my life became much more work oriented and essy to deal with. Getting fired was fine. Getting bitched out and humiliated was fine. Going with incredible isolation and lacking very basic things was fine Because like shit I tried and and as long as some other guy is doing it to me I sure as hell don't need to do it to myself. I just had to work that much harder. Endure it!!!

some guys now are still better than me because they've been doing it longer but I'm functional now u know. And like these guys also don't know shit about anything, like wow they can lift a big saw and use a tractor but they're so focused on being masculine they don't fucking explain things. Because of their feelings and their oh you ought-tos and just absolutely writhing in weakness and inefficiency for NO REASON. Like I actually have a vagina, man, the fuck is your excuse? I've had quite a few bosses who will tell you to do something, give no details, get mad when you ask for details, and get mad when you do the job wrong. Then I feel like I am truly one of the guys when we're just discussing what the fuck our boss meant. Is he really a big fucking man when he can't do his job? When all the men he works with think he's a punk?

Where I'm at in my transition right now I still don't always get men to listen to me, like my coworkers in conversation, which at first I percieve as disrespect but then i need to consider the men I'm with don't really listen to anyone. If my current boss, a man in his 40s who has witnessed so many deaths in his field and is physically stronger and smarter than all of them can't get them to listen, is it really a blow to the respect I command? And these guys also all feel insecure about being a man, except they haven't figured out basic shit that I have so they think raising their voices means people will listen. A lot of these guys get their asses handed to them by girls, they can't handle heartbreaks. They bring up being jealous about me doing things that I considered feminine, they wonder how I can haggle well, make funny jokes, talk to girls, keep everything clean, cook well, play poker well - these are all feminine skills, haha, the empathy and sensitivity required in the money world especially.

Focus on your humanity first, and use being a man and your desire to be a man, to magnify and shape your desires as a human being. Like you wanna be a man. What does that mean? You wanna be respected, command other men? You want to take control? You want to be dominant? You want to be skilled? What will it take to get to that point? And have a little fun, enjoy the process it takes to get there, in its kinky, humiliating, rancid chained-to-the-radiator glory.

[the-queerview]

The Substance

2024

by Coralie Fargeat

My dear readers, it's been a while since I decided to post. It was a long summer, ending with me visiting North Korea, just kidding, i just saw North Korea, which is already pretty amazing and frightening. Unfortunately my experience was disrupted, since a few week before my arrival some American tourist ran into North Korea and got shot, rest in peace idiot. They say never judge a deceased and in retrospective, i can't since those tours are literally disneyland trader joes tourist traps kind of, but lets not roast on peoples buisnisess here, lets roast the films, that take us on rides in our grey existence.

I would like to start by saying, that it's a pretty good year for babes and a pretty good year for horror film. We had Brat summer and soon there will be Nosferatu Autumn, with Lily Rose Depp starring in Nosferatu (102 years after its first release). We have Hunter Schaefers first cinema film, where she is not there for like 5 minutes like in Hunger games or entirely Naked for a few minutes like in Lanthimos kinds of kindness. Not to hate on nudity here, but we have a quite problematic history with women* and nudity. I highly recommend here Linda Nochlins representing women, on womens representation within western art history paintings, which is till todays core a major influence on cinematography. Which brings me to start today with a Portrait by Gericault, titled : Monomaniac of Envy (Monomane de l’envie) from 1822.

The Substance is a film following Elisabeth Sparkle ( Demi Moore), a former Oscar winner now aging TV -Starr with an aerobic ( I assume) show. (We might be remembered here of Jane Fonda, who indeed was an actress and the figure for aerobic in the 80s, when american propaganda preached they can't control the world in post vietnam war america and they only thing they can control is the BODY.) Elisabeths nasty boss is firing here for being to old, sad and isolated as she is, we don't learn so much, about her inner world. They cinematograpghy is resembling a distant, almost, stretched, lets say overdrawn perspective, probably similar to the characters inner world. Everything is clean, but not personal. Theres a giant photograph of Elisabeth in her almost comic looking loft. It reminds me somehow of older sowiet films, where a picture of Lenin would hang on the walls or some shit, so I thought, damn, the main dictator in Elisabeths Life is probably herself. And turns out right. Long story short, I try not to spoiler the grande scenes here, but one word, the billboard scene.. Elisabeth gets in contact to an anonymous note by an anonymous person, after some tragedy, and orders the SUBSTANCE. She will pick it up, inject it, and after some alien shit, which you see in the first picture, a second version of herself, that is herself will crawl literally out of her back. This version is young, hot, and will fuck Elisabeth up. Her name is Sue ( Margaret Qualley) and the rule is, that Sue got 7 days, and Elisabeth got 7. If one breaks the rule, they basically both fucked.

So the movie itself, is literally like, when popstars get the chance, like i dont know, rihanna doing superbowl singing all her bangers. kind of this vibe, So for horror film nerds, and i m sure i didnt guessed all but we have of course, david lynchs twin peaks and pretty sure wild at heart. we have suspiria by dario argento, especially the soundtrakc and BLOOD, we have some cronenberg body horror, and crazy camera like in gaspard noes enter the void, but all in all, i guess, what i was missing in the film, is that the first half was literally fucking amazing. it had it's own signature, it didn't need the references from my part, like yeah those dude directors did important work, i wish Fargeat would trust herself maybe more, that what shes doing is the right thing to go for. Also I literally loved ALL THE DETAILS. Like i could start analyzing so many bits of it.

I loved, that it was dealing with Envy, fear or aging, MISOGYNY, and comparison in such a smart way. The first half of the film, felt like an entire advertisment, which is the core to all evil, as we know. We literally spent actually years of our lifes watching advertisments.

The second half of it, reminded me to much of 80s body horror, it had its campy moment. And here I m being unfair probably. I did my research and Coralie Fargeat is born 1976. She was a a child in the 80s, and this was a time, that formed her culturally and therefor aesthetaically to a certain degree... or did you never noticed that fashion designers usually end up designing clothes, that they loved to wear as kids/teens? I feel like, if Coralie Fargeat felt like working in this 80s rubber stuff was important for, fuck , let her do it. Also in the 80s there weren't many female filmmakers around, especially not in the dudy dude horror scene. So whatever.

Also I was tbh in shock about the violence. Like many times, my partner had to close my eyes in the cinema, cuz i was hella scared of the intense violence. Maybe Kira Muratova ( an amazing ukranian filmmaker, that I truly adore for insane films) was right, when she said, women make harder films. I wonder if it has something to do with being in pain every month, of the injustice of the binary patriarchal world, or the violence transwomen experience?

There was for sure a very insanity level of violence, but at the same time, the most stunning portrayal of envy against a version of yourself, that you might never see. I loved that it also reflected so much the world in a sense, the decadence of the west, hollywood, glamour, age, ozempic, comparison, starving for youth vs the isolation of those from the current wars in the middle east, the starvation in Sudan. The proatogists were isolated in every scene almost. The Bathroom was the scenery of the crime, similar to the way we use this room to get ready for the outer world. The only real personal details in the film I experienced in the notes, those handwritten notes, that would always appear. I kept thinking about them for days. They became almost a metaphor for me, that different then then all the advertisments, the substance delivery typography, all those for Elisabeth Sparcle seemingly important objects, where not personal, thou its about her,about her body. while those handwritten notes by the strangers, seemed more personal, then the things that surround her, since trough the handwriting they are proof of a human life. Turns out, they were a signifer of what is missing in her world, the way she experience having the body, its no intimate, not adressed.

Also Demi and Margaret were so fucking amazing, i 'm literally blown away. Like i WISH i could like scream and hug them and be like. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT. I bet all their friends and family are proud like crazy. This shit was insane, playing that? Insane. They did so good, like not many ppl can read a script like that and be like...mhhh yup. So GRANDEUR APPLAUSE !!!!!!!

All in all I highly recommend checking out the Substance, I m sorry if I spoilered to much. Big trigger warning for violence, also some scenes are literally gross, depending on you, bring a friend or a lover, and watch it in the cinema, if your socio cultural situation allows you to, i can imagine this film being censored, otherwise just be illegal literally. Like we live in hell.

but dont watch it alone, only if you are freaky deaky i guess.

love to my readers.

the queerview

ps: Also I did watch blink twice by Zoë Kravitz. a queerview will follow, but its so hardcore to watch blink twice and p.diddies freak party assault stuff. mentally i cant go down that road, but Kravitz did literally on time...