#industrial sized brothers well

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING DESIRED !!! TOTO W. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: "don't mix business with pleasure" they said, but who were they to stop her and toto from wanting each other?

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), based on a request from my ask, use of explicit language, rbr test driver!horner!reader (christian's sister), forbidden love trope-ish, porn with plot, unprotected sex (plz don't do that), office sex, lowk filthy, size kink (heavy on this), choking, dacryphilia

song rec: now by trouble maker

note: this is the closest thing you'll ever have to a fic where a horner and a wolff banged. enjoy xx

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she wanted him. and he wanted her too. he just refused to let his desires give in to save face.

and she hated it so much. she hated that she saw him as someone else’s younger sister and nothing else. 

she hated that she was even related to christian horner of all people. she usually didn’t care about christian— she had no reason to dislike him as he’d been nothing but a caring brother. she just hated that toto wolff saw her as nothing but an extension to christian’s surname. 

she supposed that’s what would happen as she entered the motorsports industry later than he did. it wasn’t her fault that christian was twenty years older than her.

it wasn’t his fault either. but to be told that you were off limits to every single man in the grid and every team? she loathed her brother so much.

because amongst those men that christian horner had warned, the mercedes amg team principal became the subject of her interest— and her desire for him grew as her brother and toto wolff became friends outside of their teams. 

“you don’t have to mix business with pleasure,” she almost scoffed when christian told her about his friendship with toto.

how hypocritical, she thought, because even i’m not allowed to see drivers or staff outside of business hours for ‘pleasurable’ reasons. 

at the age of 30, many would’ve expected her to be shackled to some man outside of the industry— probably married to him with a child. 

yet here she was, a single woman whose title as a test driver for red bull racing expired a few weeks ago. she appreciated the opportunity given by her brother— the team principal, really. but the longer she worked for his team the longer his big brother act would prevent her from wanting anyone. 

and if christian told her that she couldn’t have anyone, then he too couldn’t have her intelligence that helped bring his team to success.

and when the rumours of her contract’s expiration went around the pit lane— every team scouted her. after all, this horner was an important asset to red bull’s success for this season and the season ahead of them.

she could’ve accepted scuderia ferrari’s offer. amongst the desperate teams that rolled the red carpet for her, the scarlet team offered her a large sum of money. they wanted her knowledge in car development as much as they wanted her expertise in driving. 

yet she didn’t choose the money. instead, she found herself sitting across from the mercedes team principal. why?

“you’ve been looking well,” toto started, his eyes trained on her as he spoke, “did your brother’s team stress you out that much?” 

“being in that team is stressful, alright,” she scoffed, earning a deep chuckle from toto as she continued, “30 years old and i’m still being treated like i’m sixteen. all they wanted was my brain— yet my brother kept me on a tight leash as if i didn’t know any better outside this industry.” 

“so now you’ve decided to let your contract expire,” toto said with a nod of understanding. “he can’t do so much about it. you’re a free woman.”

“i’ve always been,” she gave him a grim smile and quipped, “all the men in our business just refused to believe that because of who my brother was.”

“you were a younger woman,” toto said with a gulp, “it was only right of christian to protect you like he did.”

“and five years later, i’ve grown,” she bit back.

“you are still his younger sister,” toto reasoned. he knew where the younger horner was getting at here. 

there was an unspoken agreement between the two that they wanted each other. they’ve agreed on it during dinners, during their family vacations and during those days when toto wolff was invited into christian’s home and she was there too.

they’ve always agreed on it. yet toto was letting her down like this— like the agreement should remain unspoken and unheard of. 

“are you seriously going to let his stupid mouth and his whole big brother act dictate what you want, toto?” she asked with a hint of irritation in her tone. “i’m not christian— and he’s not me because he doesn’t know how much you fucking want me. and i do. i do understand.” 

“i allowed myself a couple of months— months to decide on whether or not i was going to stay in his team,” she continued. “i could’ve signed before the season was over but i didn’t. because this gives me the chance to work with your team— to work with you.”

“this,” she pointed at the contract in front of her. “gives me the chance to make you realize that i’m not just an extension to your friend’s name. that your feelings for me shouldn’t be deterred by your friendship with my brother— who i want nothing to do with because it’s not his life that’s being put on hold. it’s mine.”

she let out a heavy sigh and chuckled humourlessly. “but i suppose we shouldn’t mix business with pleasure.”

he merely stared at her as she stood up. she flashed him a smile as if she hadn’t just gone off and berated him for listening too much to christian. 

then she said, “i’ll come back next week. i’m expecting the contract agreement to be modified by then so we can finalize the deal.”

yeah, who the fuck was christian for him to dictate who she wanted and who toto wanted? 

the door slammed shut as she turned around, the gap between her and toto was little to nothing as his breath fanned across her face. he dipped his head and captured her lips in a lustful kiss. 

she almost moaned at the feeling of his tongue tangling with hers. her body burned in desire as she craved for more. 

toto wanted more too, and she could tell that by the way he ravaged her without hesitation. 

his office at the factory was filled with nothing but silent screams and sounds of low growl and skin slapping. everybody had left hours before she arrived at the factory. 

thankfully the mercedes staff wouldn’t have to hear their employer fucking the most scouted talent at the pit lane right now— and even if they did, it was in their best interest to keep their mouth shut about it. 

but toto and the woman couldn’t find themselves to care at the moment, both were too drawn to each other as toto’s cock thrusted into her deeply. 

she held into the leather couch and cried quietly, tears threatening to fall from the pleasure that she felt when his cock continued to rub against the sensitive spot that nestled inside her cunt. 

“fuck, schatz,” toto hissed from behind her, pulling her back against his chest as he wrapped his hand around her neck and squeezed it lightly. she gasped, catching the last of her breath before he let go and kept his hand around her. 

then his other hand took hers and placed her palm flat against her stomach, making her squirm and moan. “do you feel that, liebling? that’s my cock. such a filthy girl- wanting a big cock inside this little pussy of hers,” he chuckled darkly as he continued to fuck her.

she loved the feeling of it— his cock buried in her cunt while he manhandled her body. the constant protrusion in her stomach drove her wild. she had always known that toto was taller and bigger than most— she just hadn’t expected to crave for more when she felt her lower stomach bulging as he fucked her. 

“so desperate f’me,” he muttered, bottoming out inside of her as she whined. her whining subsided when he squeezed her throat again.

“ah shit~” she gasped breathlessly, feeling the pressure around her neck increasing as her eyes rolled back in pleasure. 

“so fucking tight,” toto grunted in her ear, nipping on it as he continued to fuck her relentlessly. “is this what i’ve been missing out on, then? your desperation for me and for my cock, hm?”

and when his grip loosened, she let out a sigh and quietly whimpered, “yes— wanted your cock so bad, toto.”

“you’ve got it now, schatz,” he muttered, moaning at her walls throbbing around him as he continued, “i fucked my cock at the thought of you, you know? wanted to fuck you so bad as much as you wanted me.”

“stroked my cock when you wore those short dresses,” he taunted, earning a whimper from her as she continued to listen to his filthy words, “wishing it’s your hands. i could just hear your voice telling me how your hands couldn’t even wrap themselves around my cock- you are so small in comparison to me— i can’t believe this cunt of yours could even fit all of me.”

“toto, i- i,” she whined, “‘m- ah, hah~ ‘m gonna cum.”

“i know, liebling,” his thrusting became frantic as he chased his high and hers. “i can feel your cunt around me— you’re about to cum aren’t you?”

“mhm— toto pleaseee~” she cried out, “please cum inside me.”

“yeah? you want me to cum inside you?” he hummed in pleasure, “do you want me to fuck this pussy of yours ‘til you’re full of my cum?” 

“ye- yes, yes!” she exclaimed, mewling as she continued to plead, “‘s so- so good. so fucking good— please fill me up!” 

“how bad do you want it?” he could feel himself nearing his orgasm as well, but he couldn’t help himself. “tell me. how bad do you want it, liebling?”

“soooo bad~ god! toto,” she sobbed.

“it’s just me, liebling, there’s no need to call me god,” he chuckled one last time as he groaned loudly, feeling her spongy walls clenching around him as she let out a loud whine. “fuuuuck~ schatz, i’m gonna— oh fuck!” 

his cock twitched against her walls and painted them white, his thrusting slowing down as he let out a long sigh. 

pulling out of her, toto sat on the couch and observed her tear stained face with a smile. his large hand pulled her body on his lap, hearing her breath quiver as she gathered her composure.

“this better not be the last time, toto,” she whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck with a soft sigh. 

he chuckled quietly, “you’re working alongside me now, schatz. and you’re stuck with me outside of work. i know this isn’t the last time.” 

don’t mix business with pleasure? sure. 

after all, business brought stress. pleasure took the stress away. 

toto knew that she’d be able to handle both. he was nothing but proud of her. he couldn’t believe that this resilient woman finally became his. 

he wouldn’t let go of her that easily. not when he finally had her.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1

[lokisgoodgirl]

Asgard's Greatest Lover [Brodinsons]

Part of the Brother Collection A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: An offhand comment leads to a salty trip down memory lane. (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: Squabbling. D*ck measuring contests to fluff. Implied smut references.

“Loki, she’s looking over-” Despite best efforts to ignore it, the meaty elbow jostling the god’s ribs made him wince. “Loki, look, in the stand yonder. She’s looking, Loki- look” Thor boomed excitedly, bouncing in his seat. “Will you desist?” Loki spat, hissing under his breath.

He could feel blood warming his cheeks, the volume of Thor's attempt at subtlety making him wish a portal would swallow him whole. He shouldn't have come. He didn't even like tennis. And yet, as always, here he was. With his public embarrassment of a brother. Loki grimaced as Thor began to point.

“But look hence...she noticed you! Perhaps she wishes to bid us good day.” He began to raise his arm, the start of a floppy wave which would likely be seen from space. “Wave, Loki- look, brother, see-!” Loki’s hand shot out, forcing the over-excited gesture down. “She’s wondering if you have utterly lost control of your faculties, brother;” Loki snarled, trying his best to look menacing. “As am I.”

Thor chortled, straightening a muscle vest which was three sizes too small. “Oh, Loki. You never have been very good at this sort of thing,” he sighed, letting his enthused gaze roam up and down the pristine grass court as Stark Industries friends and family took their seats. “It truly is a boon that you have one such as I to guide you in this romantic endeavour.” Loki raised his brows. He knew he shouldn’t take the bait. Especially in public. Especially today. But it was just too tempting.

“Whatever could you mean, brother?” he crooned, giving his most stoic side-eye with a tilt of his chin. He felt Thor bristle, telltale nervous fingering of blonde strands behind his ear letting Loki know the warning pitch of his voice had hit as intended.

“Well, Loki, it’s no secret that your love life has been fraught with unfortunate malaise where seduction is concerned,” “Unfortunate?” Loki said coldly, “I wouldn’t call a reputation as Asgard’s greatest lover unfortunate.”

Thor spluttered, shaking his head with sanctimonious laughter. “Ah, my little brother. I do admire the unshakeable esteem with which you hold your delusions.”

The dark brother’s grip tightened on the bleacher bench. “And I suppose you believe that title belongs to you, does it?” he sneered through gritted teeth. Poison flecked the words, dripping from his tongue like venom from a fang. Thor’s eyes narrowed. “I have the relic which proves it,” he shrugged.

“The one our mother gave you in solace when Jane left?” Loki snarled, “Pathetic. I doubt she even knew what it truly meant, just echoed your boorish claims thinking it was based in chivalry,” he paused. “At least, I hope that was her intent.” They stared at each other in pregnant silence.

“It matters not that mother gifted me said ceramic receptacle,” Thor said through gritted teeth. “What matters is, that my legend reaches far beyond the bifrost to bedchambers across nine realms, brother.” A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Whereas yours is rather more contained to the palace servant quarters.” “That was one instance,” Loki spat, “and she was the most comely chambermaid we’d ever had.” “I’m sure,” Thor huffed, rolling his eyes. He brought one fist in front of Loki’s face, flexing an ostentatious bulge of bicep. “I was too busy giving the princess of Nilfheim a shudder of my very special thunder to notice.” He smirked, delivering a slow wink to punctuate his prowess. “She was never the same afterwards, you know.” Loki stared open mouthed, before he burst into raucous laughter.

From across the court, Steve immediately stood with a snap; hands on his hips with the most uptight death glare Loki had ever seen. “This is tennis,” Steve squawked. “For gosh’s sakes, have some respect.”

Through tears of mirth, Loki saw you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle. She recognises that Rogers is ridiculous, he thought. Good. That’s good.

Regaining his composure, Loki straightened. He smoothed his hair behind his ears, picking up the gauntlet his brother had carelessly cast down.

“Never the same. Quite.” he mused thoughtfully, collecting himself. “I can believe that your relentless dry-thrusting, lack of imagination and moans which sound suspiciously like the name of your talisman would scar her for life, yes.” “Leave Mjölnir out of this,” Thor snapped. Loki smirked, eyes wandering casually to where you sat. “The rumours are true then. Interesting.” he murmured slyly. Thor crossed and re-crossed his legs, the bleacher creaking beneath his weight. “She was perfectly satisfied,” the blonde grumbled, shifting his feet. Loki snorted. “Brother, you could not satisfy a woman if the key to unlocking her pleasure was written in parchment and propped upon her belly.” Thor stared, blankly. “Ah, yes – I forgot. A woman’s pleasure is not your forte is it,” Loki sneered, casting a quick glance towards his brother’s reddening face. “From what I heard, your attempts have been tragic at worst and laughable at best-” “Loki,” Thor warned, glancing anxiously at the people filling the seats behind them. But Loki continued, un-phased.

“Did you truly think you were to rub it with your chin?” He let out a harsh ooo, before sucking the air between his teeth.

“Those unfortunate women,” he drawled with feigned solemnity. “They didn’t want to hurt your feelings. ‘Asgard’s greatest lover’...please.” Thor tried to speak then thought better of it. Loki felt the glee begin to rise in his chest as he tasted victory in the air. “I felt moved for her when she hobbled from your chambers, poor thing. What did she cite for her impromptu departure, I wonder? Headache, was it?” He looked at his brother. The glazed look of bamboozled betrayal in his eyes told Loki that he was in fact, correct.

“Thankfully, I had just run a rather luxurious bath for myself which the lady found most soothing to aid her discomfort,” Loki purred, throwing his scarlet-faced sibling a knowing glance. “She was very grateful for my healing hands. And other anatomical attentions.”

Thor stared with slack-jawed disbelief.

The dark-haired god flicked his keen gaze towards you again. He let his eyes track up the skin of your bare calf, glinting in the afternoon sun. Supple, he pondered; thanking the Norns for the light breeze which rustled your skirt. On cue, you sipped from a large water bottle. Loki smirked.

“I was not aware that I was now a figure of such...ridicule. How times have changed.” Loki frowned as his moment of voyeurism was disturbed by Thor’s quiet mewl. With a sigh of resignation he swivelled, their knees touching. He reached for his brother’s hand, lowering his chin with sincerity in his eyes.

“Brother, that is not so” Loki said softly, “you have always been a figure of ridicule.”

Thor let out a shaky laugh, nodding. “I can always count on you to cheer me, brother” he said, patting Loki’s hand. Loki nodded once in acknowledgement. “Perhaps the next time you think yourself above me in the art of seduction, you will remember this conversation.”

“One can hope,” Thor chirped.

Loki rolled his eyes, retracting his hand. Polite clapping erupted as the first of the day’s players walked onto the court, waving at the crowds. He could feel Rogers suspicious stare burning into him from the other side of the grass, but he paid it no mind. “You truly think the odds are in my favour, brother?” Loki murmured thoughtfully, nodding subtly in your direction.

The two of them craned to catch a glimpse, the figure of his affections now half-obscured by a sea of lesser bodies. Your demure facial expression gave nothing away, but a pat on the shoulder from Natasha soon made you break into a dazzling smile. How she is not a goddess, I shall never know, Loki pondered; feeling his heart melt into his stomach and transform to a sea of butterflies. The redhead nudged her chin upwards, urging you to look up where the two gods stood. Staring. “Gods,” Loki hissed regretfully, continuing to clap like a fool. There was nothing else to be done. The boorishness of his brother had once again drawn the wrong kind of attention. But try as he might, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Perhaps she has some magic of her own, he mused.

Thor’s elbow jostled against his ribs, “I told you, Loki” he chortled, “god of chaos or not, I would say that the odds are most definitely in your favour where your lady is concerned.” “Truly?” Loki breathed, his heart beating faster as you gave him a small, bashful wave. “Truly,” Thor said, giving his brother’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Congratulations on 5k

Could you do 6 and 16 for Orm if he's not allowed Steve.

.⋆｡Dosage｡⋆.

Orm Marius x plus size reader

You get stuck babysitting the Ocean Master, you should’ve guessed that he would stir up some trouble

Warnings: sex pollen so little bit of dub-con, mention of tranquilisers and death, Batman not being helpful, swearing, no smut but nudity and implied smut

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

You wondered what you did to warrant this terrible punishment. The lab was silent, your music having been forcefully turned off by your employer an hour before and you were pinned to your seat by the icy blue eyes of your charge. 

Babysitting, that’s what you had been reduced to. It’s not like your three PHDs could be put to better use than making sure Arthur’s brother didn’t wander off and get himself into trouble. You rationalised that you could deal with it fine as long as he kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself but evidently the ex King of Atlantis had a serious staring problem and it was so much more distracting than if he had been chatting your ear off.

Sighing heavily, your head dropped between your shoulders and you pulled your glasses off your nose. “Do you really have to stare at me the whole time like some kind of fucking vouyer?” Orm huffed, finally looking away and giving you a chance to observe the Atlantian.

There was no doubt that he was beautiful, with a chilled jaw, perfect skin, fluffy blond hair and a body that would rival Michelangelo’s David but as soon as he opened his mouth, all that beauty melted away. He was arrogant and entitled and for some damn reason he refused to let you work in peace.

“You should be honoured to be in my presence human.” Your eye twitched in annoyance. Breathe Y/N, breathe. You told yourself. You crossed your legs and shot Orm a look that would’ve had Batman shaking in his boots.

“Just- find something else to do and let me work, please.” He raised a dark brow at you but nodded anyway. His muscles rippled beneath the compression shirt he had been given upon his arrival to the tower. You forced yourself to look away and back to your work. “All I need is an hour and then we can find something productive for you to do.”

He hummed noncommittally, which you were perfectly fine with. 

The lab settled into a blissful silence and you were finally, thankfully, able to really plug into the data analysis that you had been putting off. Occasionally, you could see the disgraced prince out of the corner of your eye as he wandered around the lab, his hands clasped behind his back. He could follow directions well, you would give him that.

You didn’t mind the company, now that he was not staring at you like a fucking creep, in fact he was quite comforting considering you spent most days in complete isolation save for when Batman needed yet another project completed. 

Just as you were reaching the final compiling, Orm’s voice rang through the lab as if he were commanding his people. “What the fuck is sex pollen?” Your entire body seized with fear and as you turned your chair to face him, time slowed.

His large hand had turned one of the many labelled specimen jars in the open cabinet at the other end of the lab, the cabinet that you had forgotten to lock when Bruce had barged in earlier. Your eyes widened almost comically as the delicate jar tipped and the neon pink dust gathered to one side. Orm tried to grab the sealed beaker but the glass was already rolling off the shelf.

Your hand was already moving towards the contamination shut down as the container met the solid ground, shattering immediately. 

The pollen exploded outwards, coating everything within 2 metres of the impact point in a bright pink dust. Orm coughed and tried to wipe it from his skin, but the pollen was already soaking in, quickly making its way into his bloodstream. 

The lab doors slammed shut and the industrial strength locks clicked into place. You yanked a medical mask from your workstation and quickly tugged it on as you rushed towards Orm, whose face was now flushed. His chest was already heaving with laboured breaths and as you drew closer, you could see the sweat collecting on his brow.

“Hey, I need you to listen to me very carefully right now.” His gaze snapped to you and you held up your hands to show that you weren’t a threat. “We can fix this, we just have to work together. Understand?” He nodded his head and you sighed in relief.

“I need you to strip off your clothes, the longer you’re in them, the more pollen you’ll ingest. And then I’m putting you in the decontamination shower until I figure out how this is going to fuck with your fishy DNA.” You expected some fight out of the prince but he followed your directions to the letter, his eyes staring intently into your own. 

You were thankful for your mask concealing your face as he pulled off his shirt, exposing the toned muscles of his stomach. You swallowed thickly, heat defiantly pooling between your thighs as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked them down. Evidently, Atlantians didn’t wear underwear. He leaned closer to you, his nostrils flaring. 

Orm’s eyelids fluttered as he let out the most erotic groan you had ever heard. “Fuck, why do you smell so fucking good?” You hated to admit it, but your knees buckled at that. Swallowing down the whine that threatened to spill from your lips, you pulled yourself together.

“O-okay now, into the shower.” You nodded your head towards the stall in the corner of the lab but Orm remained still. His breathing was quickening and his pupils were blown, leaving only a sliver of blue around the black. You stepped in that direction but still, he refused to follow.

“Goddamnit.” You muttered and grabbed his muscular shoulder, forcefully yanking him to the stall and quickly shoving him inside before he had a chance to refuse. You locked the door, knowing that there was no possible way for him to drown himself, and started the auto decontamination.

As soon as he lost sight of you, Orm gave a shout of protest and slammed his fists against the door. “No! Come back!” The glass trembled with the force of his blows and if it weren’t for Bruce’s tendency to make everything strong enough to hold Clark back for a minute at least, you would have been scared of it shattering.

You carefully walked backwards to your desk, your eyes locked onto the shower which was now running but it was doing nothing to hinder the man inside. In fact, his efforts to get out doubled as the water hit his overheated skin. “You’re mine!” He screamed and a crack appeared in the glass.

You snatched up the phone that directly connected you to Bruce, pressing it to your ear as you continued to back up. As soon as you heard his gruff voice, you shouted at him. “Orm ingested that sex pollen shit from Ivy, what the fuck do I do?”

There was a pause and for a second you thought the line had dropped. Then he sighed heavily into the receiver. “Fuck. The antidote you developed won’t work on him since he doesn’t have any human DNA and his body won’t burn out the pollen fast enough before his system overheats.” Silence settled between you as the solution dawned on both of you at the same time. “So-“

“So I’ll have to help him through it or he dies.” You finished his thought for him.

“I’m sorry kid.” Then the call cut off. Orm threw his body at the door and another crack appeared. You had a choice here, there was a tranquiliser in the drawer of your desk that could put down Flash, you could wait for the door to shatter and use it against the raging prince. Or…

Your mask dropped to the floor, along with your shirt and pants. His shouts had now devolved into unintelligible growls that only served to make your inner thighs even wetter. By the time you reached the shower, the frosted glass now resembled a spider’s web and you were completely bare.

You hit the override switch to the side of the stall and the screaming stopped. The damaged tracks groaned as the door slowly opened, revealing you to Orm once more. “Take what you need, I only want to help.” 

The air was knocked from your lungs as strong arms grabbed you and pulled you into the shower with him. Cold water washed over your naked body though it did nothing to lessen the fire between you. A moan was forced from your lips as Orm ducked down and buried his nose in the crook of your throat, pressing his hard body to your soft one.

His chest rumbled happily as he inhaled. “I will not be gentle, I cannot. But once this curse has passed, I will treat you like a goddess, a queen.” His tongue licked up the column of your neck until he could rise to his full height once more. “You will experience pleasure like never before, my claim will be laid upon you.”

And you could only nod as his large warm hand gripped your knee tightly, bringing your plump leg up to wrap around his lean hips. “Prepare yourself for your king.”

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[rubyredridinghood]

JJK Characters and Their Piercings/Tattoos

SFW✅ CONTENT!! 18+ blogs please dni ^^ TW: Mentions of needles, some spoilers, not proofread lol

SATORU GOJO

•Standard ear piercing but usually nothing extravagant

•Unironically has the cross dangly because he thought it would be funny but never wears it

•Mostly diamond studs or silver

•100% GOT A NOSE STUD IN HIGH SCHOOL

•He thought it would attract more attention from the ladies (as if he needed anymore) and of course it worked

•Also has his belly button pierced and I stand firm on that belief

•Likes to flaunt it on the beach and often keeps his shirts unbuttoned in unprofessional gatherings

•Often matches the nose stud and belly button ring and has drawers full of them

• Has a tattoo on his hip of a black beta fish (yeah🥲)

•Speaking of which, he has a small one on the back of his neck of a crescent moon

•He got matching ones with Geto right before *the incident* in high school to celebrate Suguru’s 18th, Geto has the sun

•Covers it with foundation all the time when he’s in public

•Has a tattoo on his upper arm of a doodle Megumi drew when he was little

•It was the first thing Megumi ever drew and showed him (It was literally just him and Tsumiki as stick figures) and he cried

•Has a pretty high pain tolerance so he mostly did well with the process, but the hip tattoo hurt like hell for him and they basically had to pin him to the table to keep him still

•Made Shoko come to his appointments for moral support

CHOSO

•Standard ear piercings

•Usually just sticks to silver or black studs because he’s afraid of being judged :< •With a little push he might wear small hoops occasionally

• Vertical labret piercing (middle of lip) only wears hoops

•Does not do well with needles (shockingly), so he cried the first time he got body mods done

•Got his ears pierced at Claire’s and held the teddy bear

•Has only one tattoo along his left forearm with the names of his brothers written out in kanji (including Yuji)

•Also cried during the tattooing process

•He’s just a pretty princess he can’t help it😞

•Has a rotation of like 5 different pairs of earrings and lip rings because he likes to keep things simple

•Really wants to get an eyebrow piercing but chickens out every time

SUGURU GETO

•Gauges (duh)

•Started stretching his ears in early high school after he got tired of normal earrings

•Used to sit in agony in class whenever it was time to move up the taper size

•Got his septum pierced but decided he didn’t like it a few months later

•After high school (betraying everyone lol), he started by getting industrials

•Tongue piercing came next, has all kinds of fun tongue rings for funsies

•Tongue was super puffy after getting it done, Mimiko and Nanako had to speak for him for a couple weeks while he expressed his throughs through grunts of frustration

•Has the universally headcannoned back tattoo of a dragon

•Has the sun tattoo on his nape to match Gojo’s moon

•Covers it with his hair obvi but sometimes looks at it in the mirror when he’s feeling lonely

•Left arm is a complete sleeve filled with various details such as red spider lilies, various geometric patterns, and names of his loved ones hidden throughout

•Simplistic patterns running up his fingers on both hands

•Did not budge during any of the procedures, however the intensity of many of his healing processes usually rendered him unable to do certain things, so he often required assistance afterwards, even while swearing up and down he didn’t (he almost fell down the stairs)

TOJI FUSHIGURO

•Definitely has the standard earlobe

•Used to have a nose stud but stopped wearing it

•Again nothing flashy but his wife and Tsumiki bought him hello kitty earrings and he will wear them proudly

•Has a simple tattoo down his neck of his wedding date in Roman numerals to Megumi’s momma (or you😘)

•Got it there because he tends to rub his neck when he’s stressed, so running his hands over the ink reminds him of his life’s blessings

•Also has Megumi’s and Tsumiki’s names behind both of his ears (screw canon can’t change my mind fr)

•Has one (1) on the knuckle of his wedding ring finger of a heart his wife drew

•Hides it under the ring because it embarrasses him to show other people but loves to look at it when he’s alone

•Pretends to be completely fine during his procedures but is gripping his wife’s hand for dear life and biting his lip until it bleeds

•She def laughs at him for it

•Hates needles with a passion and always dreads getting new ink done but it’s always worth it in the end

RYOMEN SUKUNA

•Canon tattoos lol

•Also canon that he has his ears pieced, but he definitely got everything possible done on both ears

•Has a ton of different earrings and chains that make his appearance more regal and scary

•Has his tongue split 100% •Had a super puffy face after that procedure, and Uraume had to had to hold back laughter while assisting him through his normal daily affairs

•Nobody could take him seriously for weeks

•But when it healed he was scary as all hell

•Bridge piercing 1000%

•Didn’t really react to his procedures, however if you look closely you might see him barely squint his eyes when the needle goes through

•Got permanent bracelets because he thought they looked cool

•Small gauges

•Doesn’t let anyone touch his tattoos or piercings unless he’s being bathed or with someone he loves (you pookie🥰)

•Partly because it’s lowk sensitive for him and he doesn’t like the feeling

•Forgets to take out his earrings when he sleeps and wakes up with weird marks all over the sides of his head

•Constantly losing earring backs

•Also drops earrings all the time because his hands are huge and steps on them with the needle side up

•Poor Sukuna

My first time posting detailed hcs! Hope you like it ^^

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭

pairing: jisung x fem!reader x male oc (afab)

genre: producer!jisung/hairstylist!reader. badboy!jisung. enemies to lovers. twin dynamic. cheating/infidelity au. some angst. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. thematic elements. just a tad bit of angst in this, but mainly, it's just degenerate shit. cheating is a big part of this. smut warnings below cut!! 

word count: 4.1k

summary: the han twins are infamous in south korea for being the #1 duo in the country, with han jisoon gifted in rapping and han jisung in producing. jisoon is the best man a girl could ever ask for- and a wonderful boyfriend. it's just too bad that jisung is the one you truly want out of the two brothers. 

18+ warnings: unprotected sex (keep it safe, my friends). kindaa jealousy sex. harddom!jisung. cheating sex. sub!reader. fingering. dom/sub undertones. degradation (slut, whore, etc.). manhandling kink. size kink. humiliation. dumbification. ownership/possession. jisung edges reader a bunch. overstimulation galore. lots of dirty talk. breeding kink!!. subspace. orgasm denial.

a/n: OKAY- SO !!!! 😖 I first got inspired to write this months ago just from watching this edit over and over again. 😩 originally, this was gonna be a chan fic, but I decided to change it to hanji at the last minute, so here we are lol! 😂 honestly, this is kind of an interesting premise for a longer series, so idk... if I'm feeling inspired to, I might expand on this oneshot and make another part to it... lmk if that's smth you guys would be interested in!! 🤎

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

"W-We shouldn't be doing this," you gasped out, feeling the rise of your arousal flooding every part of your mind. It overtook all of your senses - forcing you to see stars, making the blood in your veins boil deliciously, casting visions of rainbows across your mind, flashes of effervescent violet and topaz coating your eyelids. "It's... it's not right." 

The man between your legs was incessant in his movements, pressing your spine a little harder into the shower's cool tiled wall. One hand clamped down onto your hip, nails digging into sensitive flesh there, as he held you up, continuing to hoist your legs around his waist tightly. His other hand was busy at work between your colliding bodies, thumb drawing messy circles around your clit. It was so fucking puffy and felt like it was engulfed in a vat of flames. 

"Why? Because you wanna deny that you're mine? That only I can make you feel this way, only I can fit this pussy so well?" His messy raven locks curled underneath the shower's hot steam, his entire naked form covered in a glistening sheen of suds and sweat and water. "You stay with him- with that prick, but you and I both know that he doesn't bring you to your knees like this- doesn't fuck you as well as I do." 

And the worst part about it- was that you knew he was right. 

Deep down, in the depths of your heart, mind, and spirit, you knew he only spoke the truth. 

That's the thing that killed you the most. 

The Han twins were infamous in the music industry - raising their empire of success from the ground up in the basement of their parent's house when they were just young boys in middle school. As they grew older, they only became better at their crafts - Han Jisoon with his rapping, and Han Jisung with his producing. 

Soon after their 18th birthday, they made their official debut in the Seoul music scene. Instantly, their first track was a complete hit - sweeping the nation with its catchy rhythm and unique rap lines. It was unlike anything anyone had ever heard, and by the time the twins turned twenty-one, they were on track to be the biggest stars of their generation - overtaking all other duos in the industry and winning all the year-end awards. 

You met Jisoon, the singer out of the duo, when you were training to become a hair colorist and he was in his late twenties. One day, a mysterious man came into your salon in Hongdae. Soon after you heard your teacher talk about who he was to some of the other stylists there - you realized that the man you would be working with was none other than the biggest star in the country at the moment. 

Instantly, there was a connection between the two of you. His smiles were so warm, the way he spoke to you so soft and delicate, his laugh contagious. His happiness was infectious, and like a drug, you began to think of nothing but him. After work that day, you came home to watch all of his performances and interviews, completely captivated by his persona. 

As it turns out, he decided to use your salon for his monthly appointments - and soon, after you graduated with your specialty license in hair color, you became his personal hair colorist. 

It didn't take long after that until you two grew a deep connection, and then he was asking for your number before he took you out on your first date together, and the rest... was history.  

Honestly, he was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. He was so fucking kind and sweet and considerate. He wasn't selfish in the least bit and always wanted the best for you. And when you told him you wanted to keep things on the down-low in regards to your relationship, he heeded your wishes. Over the three years that you two had been dating, not a single word had gotten out to the press about your relationship. Sure, his fans speculated about his relationship status, but no one ever came out with any hard evidence of his true girlfriend.

He had even met your parents during Chuseok soon after your first anniversary, much to their delight. He brought over gifts for your mother and spent time out on your father's boat fishing in the early morning even though he hated fishing and always got seasick. Your mother fell in love with him during your trip, and wouldn't stop talking about the expensive rice cakes he had brought her for that holiday season. Your father also took a keen liking to him, saying he enjoyed having a fishing partner, which was your father's way of saying that he approved of your choice of a man.

All of your friends loved Han Jisoon too. Your best friend, Ryujin, was obsessed with your relationship - and was always checking up on the two of you. She was just chomping at the bit for him to propose, and every Christmas that passed, she claimed that 'next year, he'll do it on New Year- I swear to you that he will.' 

Jisoon liked to hang out with you and your friends when his schedule allowed him to, and you did the same with his large group of friends. Granted, most of his connections were either famous producers or other popular singers, but still - you liked the fact that he wasn't afraid to introduce you to the important people in his life. Because all of it made you feel important to him.

Not to mention all of the gifts he got you - sending you huge bouquets of your favorite flowers when he was away on tour, and sending you little gifts here and there 'just because.' Like the box of chocolates during a particularly shitty day of your period, or the small teddy bear that was programmed with his voice and said 'I love you,' that he bought for you during one of his promotional business trips to Taiwan. 

Overall, he was the best person you had ever met. He was funny and quirky and so fucking entertaining to be around. Not to mention talented- he could write thirty lines of rap within an hour, something you never could get over even after years of knowing him. He was perpetually changing his hair color too, thanks to your help - and for the past year, he had been rocking a dusty blonde look. He also loved to dress in bright colors and wasn't one to shy away from all the new fashion trends.

So... everything must've been amazing, right? 

You had a beautiful, unique boyfriend who fucking adored you and practically worshipped the ground you walked on. 

So then, what was the problem? 

Well, for one thing, the root of the entire bane of your existence was his twin brother, Han Jisung. 

With his perpetually messy black hair, onyx eyes, and scowl he always seemed to wear no matter what. You had never seen him dressed in anything other than dark clothes - grays and blacks only. 

His temperament matched his outward appearance, with his downright rude personality at times and his snide comments that were always directed towards you. He was an absolute thorn in your ass and he loved being one. 

He and your boyfriend couldn't be more different from each other, and you were almost surprised when you first met him after you and Jisoon first started dating. Because... they were such stark opposites of each other it was almost comical. 

But Jisoon loved his brother, despite his flaws and all, and since they had an entire career together, you were forced to share space with your boyfriend's other half. When Jisoon would invite you over to the studio late at night to listen to some of the new lyrics he had written, there Jisung was. Sitting at the desk in the recording studio, directing everything and making changes to the track... just brooding for a fight.

When he worked, Jisung was even more serious than his normal day-to-day persona; changing into this silent, man with a menacing kind of aura surrounding him as he sat behind a huge desk in their shadowy recording studio. 

You'd be turned on by the sight of it all if you were dating Jisoon - his twin brother. 

But as it turns out, life has a funny way of playing tricks on you... 

On your mind and heart and everything you had grown accustomed to. 

And before you even realized it was happening, your dynamics were changing. No longer was it you and Jisoon against Jisung. Slowly but surely, throughout your relationship, you somehow grew closer to your boyfriend's twin brother. 

It started with him being a little nicer to you randomly during your visits to the recording studio, or during the luncheons you'd sometimes attend with your boyfriend and his entire crew. 

Han Jisung turned out to be kind of... nice. 

Despite all of his flaws and rude mannerisms. 

But even so, he was still an asshole, he was still annoying most of the time and a total prick. He liked to get under your skin, and wiggle around in there - teasing you just enough to the point where you were close to blowing up at him. But he always pulled back eventually. 

Almost like, he enjoyed the thought of edging you irrevocably, for years on end. 

Things came to a screeching halt though, when the twins were on tour and Jisoon invited you to tag along with him to their dates in Japan. Not wanting to deny the offer since you had always wanted to visit the country, you joined him during the four days that he and Jisung would be in Tokyo. 

At first, everything was going smoothly. 

Their rehearsal the night before their first show went well, and you enjoyed sightseeing with your boyfriend after he was finished with preparations. After the two of you got back to your hotel, Jisoon quickly fell asleep in your shared queen-sized bed, completely exhausted from his busy schedule. 

And then somehow, you had found yourself roaming the halls of the luxurious hotel, stumbling upon a small alcove in the back of the spacious place, fit with a self-serve mini bar and a few velvet-lined seats overlooking the glittering night's cityscape. 

But the person who was sitting in one of those seats was the thing that surprised you the most, with his black tresses and even darker stare. He regarded you with a tilt of his head, swishing around the ice in his crystal glass that was filled with dark bourbon. 

Pathetically, it only took you three drinks in. 

Perhaps the red wine they served at the hotel's mini bar was more potent than the stuff you were used to in South Korea. 

Or, perhaps you were just as exhausted as your boyfriend Jisoon from spending the day traveling across the city and sightseeing.

But before you knew it, you had somehow migrated onto Jisung's lap, allowing him to place his palms on your ass that was just barely covered by the mini skirt you had changed into to tour the city with Jisoon earlier that night. 

"I have a boyfriend, Jisung," you had said, as the man before you leaned in a little closer to your form. Nose coming close to your exposed neck, he had breathed in a deep sigh. Your spine shuttered from how near he was to you. Nearer than the two of you had ever been before. "Jisoon- he- he loves me." 

After that, Jisung looked up at you with a raised eyebrow, a dark, familiar look twirling right there in his eyes. He stared on at you in silence, before he let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Oh please- you couldn't give a flying fuck about my brother. Especially not when you're with me..." 

The moment his lips had come in contact with your skin, you melted instantly - like a bar of milk chocolate being held over the high flames of a fire. The fire ended up being him, his heat engulfing you as his mouth came around the spot between your clavicle and neck, teeth biting down there slowly, tongue darting out and licking ever so slightly. 

"I've seen the way you stare- you're practically begging me to fuck you at any chance that we're together," Jisung had grunted out, his mutterings fanning against your skin and making the butterflies erupt even faster in the pit of your stomach. "Such a little whore- why have one brother when you can have two, right?" 

After that, you were trying to push him away. Palms on his muscular chest, you tried to move off of his lap. But his digits just dug in harder to the supple flesh of your asscheeks, and when you moved slightly, you could feel the hardness of his middle gently hitting up into your warm center. 

In the end, you couldn't deny the wetness that was slowly growing in your panties. But you could sure try your damndest to forget about it all. "I'm dating someone else, we... can't..." Your voice trailed off after that, as his mouth traced up the column of your neck, pressing light, heart-fluttering kisses against your jawline and the corner of your mouth. 

"Too bad you're such a horrible fucking liar then," Jisung said in a low voice, staring into your eyes and giving you that look - the one he always leveled your way when he was officially done with your bullshit. "Too bad I can no longer ignore the wetness that's growing between your legs- ignore the way you press these cute little pussy lips together each time I make you squirm with my taunting." 

In the next instant, he was pressing his mouth against yours, swallowing up your groan of surprise, quieting the moans that threatened to slip free from deep inside of you when his tongue danced against yours. 

Turns out, he was right. 

Without even really realizing it, you had been taunting him. 

For fucking years. 

With your combativeness, and playful banter. Not to mention, the long stares and shifting in your seat every time he made you feel... bothered.

He was like a powerful magnet, something you couldn't deny the pull of any longer. 

Your kiss there on the chair in the hotel alcove turned into something heated and disastrous, and soon, you found yourself locked up in Han Jisung's hotel room - hands pinned against the soft downy mattress as his thick cock ripped you right open. He drew the filthiest of sounds out from the depths of your soul as he pounded into you completely raw, fucking you well into the night. He edged you for hours - just like he did in your regular lives - before bringing you over the brink of five different orgasms. 

The sex with your boyfriend Jisoon was good, 

but nothing could compare to the way that Jisung made you feel that night. 

How filled up you had felt - completely whole in every way possible. 

Usually, the sex with your boyfriend was fairly quick, very vanilla, and in the same three positions. 

Meanwhile, Jisung had you in all kinds of ways that night - knees, back, stomach. You name it, he somehow coaxed you into it. 

And afterward, after he finished coating every crevice and surface of your insides and outsides in his seed and sweat and saliva, Han Jisung helped to clean you up. The two of you lay side by side in his bed for a little bit, soon after he had wiped your skin clean. 

No words had been spoken between the two of you then, but you just felt, that nothing had to be said. The deed had been done. You had gotten over the hardest part. 

And now... there was no going back. 

When you had crept back to the room you were sharing with your boyfriend and laid down beside him just as the clock was about to strike five in the morning, you realized that things were completely ruined. 

Nothing would ever be the same again - because no one would ever compare...

To the way Jisung made you feel that night, and how he had made you feel over the past few years, without you even fucking realizing it. 

Slowly, as you lay there underneath the covers, hair disheveled and the marks of Jisung's lips littered across your body - your legs and arms and pussy sore from his arduous, heated attention - the tears slipped out of the corners of your eyes unchecked. You stared at the back of Jisoon, your boyfriend, and cried yourself into a listless kind of sleep, void of any dreams or thoughts. 

"I'm sorry, babe," you had whispered to his sloped shoulders, just before your eyes had slipped shut in finality in the early morning rays of sunlight for that day. "I'm so fucking sorry..." 

Three weeks after they were finished with their Japanese leg of the tour, and back home in Seoul resting before they finished up with their encore concert in America, Jisung paid a visit to the apartment you shared with Jisoon in the heart of Gangnam. Your boyfriend was out for the day, visiting his parents for the rare break that they had in their schedules. 

The moment you opened your door and saw him standing there on the step, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. But the two of you didn't have to say anything, because you already knew. 

Things had been ruined the moment you stumbled upon him late at night in that hotel, all those weeks ago. 

That day, you christened every surface of your apartment with your mixed essence. Every place you could imagine, Jisung fucked you on: the kitchen counter, the living room couch, the dining room table, against the front door, in the shower, on the study room's floor, and perhaps worst of all... in your very own bed. The one you had shared with your boyfriend, who was also Jisung's twin brother, for years.  

The sex that day was mind-blowing and cataclysmic, as Jisung led you over the brink of so many orgasms, you lost count after the third one. By the time the two of you were finished and the sun was beginning to set, you were so deep into an odd limbo state of mind that you couldn't even form a coherent thought or sentence. 

And like a thief leaving in the middle of the night, like a ghost visiting you for only a time, Jisung just kissed you goodbye, promising he'd come back soon, and left you in your apartment right before your boyfriend came back. 

He left you as a pile of messy hair, weak limbs, and a murky mind, sprawled out across your bed, completely naked and littered with bite marks and violet hickies. You managed to throw a nightgown on before your boyfriend came home and saw you that night. 

You were so fucking ashamed, but no matter how bad you felt about it all, you couldn't stop yourself. And apparently, Jisung couldn't either. You two were drawn to each other, for whatever reason. And no external factor - even the idea of a long-term boyfriend - was going to stop the trainwreck that you were slowly causing with your secret meetings. 

Over time, the periods spent with your boyfriend's twin brother bled together into a fever dream of passion and the greatest sex you had ever experienced in your life. Any chance you could get alone with each other, with your boyfriend nowhere in sight, the two of you were fucking...

In the recording studio, during the rehearsal for a TV appearance, at the hair salon you worked at, in the bathroom during a late-night dinner with their company. And soon, you found yourself falling into a weird kind of rhythm with Han Jisung. Half of the time, you spent it with your boyfriend, Jisoon. And the other half, you spent it with Jisung... fucking and delving into each other in all different ways. 

Your time spent with the other brother became so intense and all-consuming that you lost track of how long it had been since everything had started. And that's how you found yourself that specific Friday night, with your boyfriend spending the night at the studio working on a recording. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, his twin brother was between your legs. 

Jisung had already taken you wholly atop the dining room table earlier that night after you had finished eating the takeout he had brought over. Once you were done chewing your orange chicken and fried rice, the dark-haired man was upon you with a vengeance - ripping off your panties and pushing you atop the wooden table. His fingers had this magic touch to them, and within just a few minutes, with a couple of practiced strokes, he always brought you over the edge in a blinding light of arousal. 

After he was finished with you on the table, you two took a shower together and somehow... he ended up inside of you, once again, for the millionth time in a row. 

"W-What about Jisoon..." You whined out, head bumping against the tile wall at your back with every hard thrust of Jisung up into you. His cock stretched you out so deliciously, and you ground your hips against his, loving the feel of his hand clamped down on your clit, rubbing at it with a rabid kind of heat. "He... He'll die if he finds out, Ji..." 

He flashed you a swarthy, devilish kind of smirk, before he leaned into you, pressing his teeth against your shoulder and biting down on your clavicle. Tongue coming out to press against the purple spot left there, he chuckled lowly. "Oh, just shut up already- I think we're past the point of you giving a fuck about him." 

And then you were clutching onto his wet locks even harder, as he drilled his cock so far deep into you, entire galaxies and other worlds flashed across your vision. Gasping out in pure bliss, you moaned out his name breathlessness, your whines getting swallowed up by the sound of the running showerhead above you. 

"Yeah, that's right... moan my name, bitch," Jisung coaxed in a deep voice, his thumb drawing figure eights around your puffy clit as his cock fucked the squelching juices back into you. "We both know this - us - is never ending... either you leave that fucker, or he finds me fucking you one of these days and everything turns to shit. Your choice." 

You were so fucked out, mind fuzzy with arousal and the pit of your stomach on fire from all of the feeling coursing through your system that you could barely form a coherent sentence. Even still, you managed to crack your eyes open just a tad bit to level Jisung with a serious frown. "N-No... never- don't want to ruin this..." The breath caught in the middle of your throat as the tip of his rigid cock hit that soft spot deep inside of you, making your legs shake around his waist, cunt clenching around his length. 

"Then take everything, you slut- be a good little whore and take daddy's cock," Jisung commanded out in a stern tone, pounding into you incessantly and making your ass bounce back and forth against the shower wall. "Open wider for me, baby doll- wanna see this pretty pussy of yours bulging with my cock." 

As always, you did what he commanded of you. Spreading your legs wider and hugging them a little closer around his hips, your head shot back against the tile of the shower wall when you felt Jisung's cock prodding into you. 

He pushed down on your lower belly, feeling the way his thick cock rubbed up into you so far, he bulged out against the seams and the outline of him displayed deep inside of you. "Oh fuck- such a cute pussy... fits me so fucking well..." Jisung said in a low voice, as he rubbed a little harder against your clit with his thumb. Meanwhile, his dick was reaching all new lengths inside of you, drawing out a flurry of moans from between your lips. "J-Just a little longer... just hold on a little more, 'kay kitten?"  

And in the end, you heeded his commands. All of them. You did everything he wanted, because truthfully- you couldn't help yourself. Couldn't deny him, no matter what. 

Fin.

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[edutainer2022]

I have part two in my, so technically it's a Wednesday WIP. Things take place some time after Hyperspeed. Scott is rather popular with all creatures large and nerds. Sometimes Earth has some insights to share about the Sky and celestial objects.

HELIOCENTRIC

He didn't look down from the sketchbook when a chestnut head hit his thigh as a lanky figure folded itself on the sand next to him, by the edge of the small palm grove. An exasperated grunt and an oomf followed. Virgil knew better than to ask. Partly because John had already clued him in, in broad strokes. Partly because he was engrossed in a particularly intricate shading. But mostly because if Scott had hunted him down on the beach, having barely parked Thunderbirds One after the trip to CERN, he would talk. Or maybe not. Either way, if Scott needed comfortable company and a friendly ear - Virgil was both. There was no need for extra prying. Not that time, anyway.

"Brains hates me!"

"No, he doesn't."

Virgil response was as automatic as it was nonchalant. It went without saying - Brains deeply appreciated and admired Scott. Just like all of them.

A powerful huff from the general vicinity of the ground ruffled the edge of the page. Virgil glanced down only to be faced with brilliant blue, welling with desperation. If he didn't abhor the idea of biggest brother in any sort of distress, he would find the whole situation highly amusing.

"Well, he's mad at me, at least! He was so eager to meet Tycho Reeves in person - IR was his moment to shine! Now he thinks I stole his thunder!"

The painful grimace that followed the diatribe was so full of misery, Virgil finally put away the sketchbook and reached to ruffle dark brown curls.

Dr. Tycho Reeves had professed undying friendship with one Scott Tracy after the Hyper-reel misadventure - and did so urbi et orbi. Definitely to the latter's equal befuddlement. From what Virgil gleaned out of John's quick heads up - the Tracy Industries visit to Dr. Reeve's lab in New Geneva earlier that day was met with excitement and enthusiasm that resulted in some significant damage to reasonably good china, a coffemaker, a suit that could bankroll the economy of a medium-size country, several holodiscs of cutting edge equipment blueprints, brought in for consult. And Brains' pride, apparently.

Virgil peered down again at his brother's face, still contorted by a frown. His other hand joined the task force and administered an obviously needed reassuring shoulder squeeze.

"So, you did the thing. Big deal! Brains won't hold a grudge!"

Confusion darkened the edges of the blue.

"The thing?"

"Your thing. The Scott thing. You are the gravity center of every gathering in every room you're ever in. Or a light source, more like!"

Virgil smiled at his own metaphor. He definitely liked that idea more.

"Yep, that's right! You're the sun, Scooter. We all orbit you."

If he hoped to lighten the mood and put biggest brother's mind at ease - that wasn't the achieved effect. Dark brows furrowed even more. Scott even lifted his head from the comfy, jeans clad cushion, and nearly yelled:

"That's not true!"

Virgil was beginning to feel entertained.

"Oh, yes it is! Everyone gets under the spell one way or another, Scoots. That's just the way it is!"

Virgil's large palm gave the now disheveled brunet head a pointed push back on its perch on the brother's thigh and added a soothing rake through the curls to boot. A quieter protest followed.

"I don't want that!"

Virgil hummed, fully amused now.

"Well, tough! You're just THAT awesome, brother."

The almost whisper that chased Virgil's cheeky comment switched him on high alert again. Trust Scotty to find ever more fault with himself.

"Dad was the sun. I'm not."

[I'm not him.]

He had a good hunch Scott would genuinely believe that, but it hurt just as well to see up close how little biggest brother thought of himself. Virgil gave it a pause, then made sure to catch the blue gaze, now deepened by ever ready rue.

"No. He wasn't. Dad was thunder and lightning. Mom was the light. Then you."

He stopped the depreciating shake of the head with a flex of his wrist, before it could gain momentum.

"You really don't get it, do you? You were Dad's light! You cheered him on and you supported his every endeavor, you stood by him and you made him believe he could do anything! Even after Mom. Even after TV-21. And you're ours! You let us flourish and you champion the best selves we could ever be!"

He had to gulp down what had to follow next - "and you gave up everything to burn yourself for us all!"

Bright wide-eyed blue, staring up at him, was brilliant with disbelief and barely contained tears. So Virgil didn't hesitate to shift operations into the territory he knew best how to navigate - with a tug on the sleeve he enveloped big brother into a tight hug.

TBC

[theworld-accordingtocasey]

I miss when I could name every group & name each member of the groups, even the ones I didn’t like, and the end of year ceremonies felt like the damn 12 days of Christmas with all the special stages and when the groups would switch places & perform their same-tier counterparts song and dance-offs and being a multi wasn’t a scarlet letter and just general happiness not just to be a stan of my own favs but to be happily active in fandom in general 🥲

One thing about me is that I'm gonna listen to a 2nd-3rd gen kpop group. I love them mfs. Cause what do you mean disbanded group Boyfriend did an Alice In Wonderland concept? What do you mean (surprisingly still up and running) group 24K has had like 12 people leave and is STILL adding people? What do you mean B.A.P was the "hood" group of kpop?

Sidenote: Boyfriend is still a thing but they go by BF now.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Andrew | In-Laws To Be | Romantic

Your sweet and shy nature keeps you from wearing your heart on your sleeve. Your older sister Eden decides to help you out a little.

Requested by Louisa

There is a certain nip in the winter air that doesn’t often occur in the usually warm lands of Judea, so you make sure to dig out the woollen cloak from your wardrobe before heading out to the market in order to prepare for Shabbat. Armed with a large bag that fits around your shoulder as well as Eden’s lengthy shopping list, you make your way to the business of Capernaum, where dozens of people are traversing the wares on display, merchants yelling their prices and discounts alike. 

You hug your cloak a little tighter around your shoulders as you walk past the stalls, making sure to only purchase the items Eden had requested no matter how tempting some of the sweeter goods seem to be, even if they are practically calling out your name. You eye a specific box of honey buns as you browse the baker’s wares, and it must have been so obvious that you were eyeing them that the merchant oddly frowns at you when you only ask for some yeast and flour. 

Up next are the wine skins — three of them this time, due to the size of the company — which proves less difficult to resist. The leather containers of wine still prove quite the weight inside your bag. Perhaps you should have waited to get these for last, but the woman behind the stall has already pocketed your money.

Afterwards, you find the stand selling fish. Ever since Simon and Andrew left the fishing industry to pursue the Messiah instead, you have been actually having to buy it from other merchants instead of getting a few of them for free, fresh from the Sea of Galilee after a good night on the water. Not that you mind it. You’d gladly buy all the fish in the world with your own money now that they are followers of Jesus Himself. 

Your mind lingers on Andrew for a bit and you can’t help a smile from forming over your lips. He’s going to attend the celebration as well and frankly, you can hardly wait to see him. Whereas you’d often see the younger sibling of your brother-in-law every other day when they were still fishermen, you now consider yourself lucky if you get to briefly pass by him about four, five times a month. To your relief, you still have your sister Eden to keep your mind occupied with your other duties. Keeping yourself busy by helping her out around the house and making a living out of sewing clothes, you remain as productive as you can be.

It feels almost inappropriate to want to doll up a little for tonight. You are positively thrilled to get to speak to Andrew again, your tummy already swirling with butterflies at the notion. For a moment, you picture yourself more confident than you are, wearing something nicer than usual, making Andrew do a double take… Not that you expect him to. Whereas Eden is more easy-going, you’re usually the more quiet type, hanging around in the background. It is a miracle if you even dare to say a few words to the curly-haired man in question. And honestly, perhaps that Shabbat itself is not the best moment to try and impress someone. 

“—Did you hear what I said, miss?” 

The merchant behind the fish stall pulls you from your own mind by giving you a strange look. You rapidly blink and clear your throat. “Uh, I’m sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment.” 

The woman huffs. “I asked if I could help you with something. You’ve been staring at my fish for a good minute now.”  

You flush a little. “Ah. Yes, I… Uh, I’d like some… Some tilapia.” 

“How much?” 

You count in your head and on your fingers for a moment. “Seven… Seven will work.” 

The merchant packs up your order whilst you get the right amount of money from your satchel. It concludes your shopping trip as you tuck the fish into your bag. “Shabbat shalom.” you tell her, and she nods, forcing a smile on her lips. “Shabbat shalom.” 

Knowing Capernaum like the back of your hand — you’ve grown up in the village after all — you head back to the house of Simon and Eden, where your older sister is waiting for you to arrive with all the fresh produce she had asked you to bring. You step over the threshold to find Eden laying the table, the vegetables already cut and drizzled with lemon to keep them fresh. She smiles and brushes over quickly to help you out with the heavy bag. 

“Ah, (Y/n), you’re the best!” You hand her the satchel of money you had received from her and she puts it aside. You instantly start rummaging around your recently acquired groceries to take out the fish lest they start leaking liquid — you’ve learnt that the hard way — as well as the wine for your sister to put into a cool room. 

“Let me prepare the fish,” Eden suggests, knowing that you aren’t necessarily fond of the slippery task of cleaning them and removing the bones. Being a fisherman’s wife, your older sister has become quite skilled at turning them into tasty fillets, so you don’t complain when you are thus presented with the job to prepare the bread dough instead. 

Your challah is often favoured whenever you’re around at Shabbat dinners. Eden says you’ve got magic hands which causes the dough to proof to perfection, but you are personally more convinced it’s the little dash of cinnamon you sneak into there for a hint of sweetness; the spice itself is far from sweet but it still works, somehow. You know the recipe by heart, adding the right amounts of water and flour to the countertop to knead together into a stretchy mass between your hands. With a little oil, a pinch of salt as well as a bit of yeast, the dough is done for its first rising process by the time Eden has cleaned the third fish.

Upon cleaning your hands and covering the bread dough, you assist Eden by grilling the fish for her over the fire in her kitchen. Under the pleasant smell of fresh food, you have a moment to yourselves before the business of the evening begins.

“So, who will be joining us again?” you ask your sister, who looks at you for a second before turning back to her fourth fish to prepare. 

“Simon, of course, and Jesus, Mary, Thaddeus and Andrew.” On the last name, you barely manage to keep your face under control, feeling your face heat up. Still, you manage to not let Eden catch you blushing. You flip the fish being heated on the stone one last time before checking on your bread, finding that it needs a little more time to rise.

“You know,” Eden pipes up all of a sudden, as if it is written all over your face, “You are still unmarried.” 

Your eyes widen as you clear your throat. “That’s correct, thank you for the reminder.” 

Eden breathes something akin to amusement. “That’s not what I tried to say. What I mean is that I’m curious to see if there is anyone of Jesus’ followers whom you’d like as a potential future husband.”

Had she seen you flush anyways? Your heart rears inside your chest as you feel like a child caught doing something they weren’t allowed to. The expression on your face is so mortified that your sister gives you a reassuring look and exhales.

“There’s no rush, really. But I mean, we’ve met a lot of nice bachelors whom I wouldn’t mind as my brother-in-law. Take Thaddeus, for example, he’s really sweet. I think Little James would also be a good match for you, since you both have a soft and gentle nature.” 

Your throat runs dry — she hasn’t realised that you’d rather be with someone who is already her brother in law — and you take moment to collect your thoughts. “Thad or Little James?” you squeak, thrown off-guard by her sudden suggestions. Eden nods, smiling softly at your shy response. “I… I don’t know, Eden. Sure, they’re sweet and all, but I’m not sure if they’d be meant for me.” 

“Well, then I’m not really sure who would be a good fit for you.” 

You avert your gaze, feeling a little embarrassed that the thought hasn’t even crossed her mind. Is she right? Would Andrew not be a good match? 

“Maybe Philip?” she then recommends, “Yeah, he’s a Godly man, too. Someone who would be really gentle for you. He is the kind of man you’d like to come home to, I’m sure.” 

“Look, Eden, I…” You let out a slightly antsy sound, “I just don’t think that… That Philip would like me in that way, and honestly I wouldn’t really care, because as kind and wise as he may be, I just see him as a very dear friend.” 

Eden hums and gives you a curious look. “There is something on your mind.” she states. “I can see it in your eyes. Do you have a suggestion for any eligible bachelors around, (Y/n)? Do you have your eye on someone? Oh no, don’t think I don’t see that blush!” You gasp and quickly pad your cheeks to feel them hot to the touch, “You’ve got a crush, don’t you?” 

Letting out a shaky breath of defeat, you give the fish one last flip before they are all ready to go. 

“Come on, who is it? You’re my sister, you can tell me!” 

She almost girlishly grabs your arm, urging you on to reveal your secret. 

You laugh lightly, a little shyly, tucking some loose hair back under your veil. “I don’t think I should, I know he wouldn’t feel the same, and—” 

“Please, (Y/n), maybe I can help! And I’m sure Simon and Andrew can put in a good word for you.” 

Your face twists into uncertainty. “Well, look… That might be kind of the issue.” 

Eden frowns a bit. “What do you mean?” 

“Ah… The person I would potentially really like as my husband is… Hm…” you hardly dare to let the name cross your lips, knowing that she’d be the first one to ever know about your longtime crush on the curly-haired fisherman in question, “…Andrew.” 

Her mouth falls open as she gawks at you, nearly dropping her knife to the ground. Eden puts it on the counter quickly and steps closer to you. “Really? Andrew? Are you serious, (Y/n)?” You nod and she lets out a breath of disbelief. “For how long? I never knew that you—” 

“—Ever since our early teens.” 

The revelation hits her hard as she puts a hand on her chest, letting out a small laugh of slight shock. “How did I never… Never find out that you… For so long? And you never even considered telling me? Or asking me about it? I could have gotten Simon to urge him in your direction, you know, I could have helped out and—” 

“—Its’ fine, Eden.” you whisper, “It’s alright. I… I’ve been in love with him for quite some time, and if he felt the same I feel like he would have asked by now.” 

“(Y/n)…” Eden reassures, “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much. You see, I bet that Andrew would be thrilled to know that a woman as sweet and kind as you is into him. I think you and him would be a very good match, I just… I didn’t necessarily expect it to happen, you know? I never would have guessed that you were sweet on him, so I never suggested it. After all, we’ve all practically grown up together, have been friends for so long. It’s the same reason I didn’t suggest John, by the way. It just didn’t cross my mind in the first place.”

“Well, you were acquainted with Simon too long before you liked him in that way, no? And yet, you married him.” 

Eden thinks for a moment. “I… Guess there is no arguing that.” she muses. “But would you like a word of advice, (Y/n)?” 

You perk up your head in question. “Yes?” 

“They will be here in a few hours. And… Once they are here, go talk to him. Trust me. Just be yourself, show him you are still that same sweet, kind girl from back in the day and interested to converse with him. If he doesn’t see you for what you are worth, he isn’t deserving of you, anyways.” 

“Talk to him? But I can’t— What could I talk about, then? I’m just going to make a fool of myself, be a stuttering mess, stumble over my words—” 

“—(Y/n). Don’t be so hard on yourself. You are a beautiful, wonderful woman who loves God. You are one of the most honest, genuine people I know. He’d be lucky to have you by his side, and who knows, you might be pleasantly surprised on what he feels for you.” 

You purse your lips, fiddling with your sleeve for a moment as you contemplate her words. 

“Give it some thought, okay? I’m sure that Andrew would love to speak to you more often, and perhaps something beautiful will bloom from it.” 

As you walk over to the counter again to continue on the challah, you ponder the words of your sister. 

“I’ll think about it.” you tell her. 

Eden smiles.  

“Good. You’ve got until tonight.” 

—

The home of Simon and Eden is a little cramped by the time all the invitees have showed up, but it doesn’t deter you nor your sister from serving the guests. You’ve been nervous ever since Andrew has crossed the threshold. In the end, you had decided to just wear what you were already wearing, not fond on drawing attention to yourself to begin with. 

You place a cup of wine in front of Jesus, Who kindly smiles at you. “Thank you, (Y/n). Are you alright? You look a little flushed.” 

Since you don’t want to lie to Jesus, you leave the answer in the middle. “I’ll be fine.” you mutter, which isn’t entirely untrue. Regardless of how the evening goes, you will be just that— fine. Your gaze flickers to the curly-haired former fisherman currently in conversation with Thaddeus. Jesus hums as He follows your eyes, smiling a little. 

“You know, I didn’t take that other seat next to Andrew for a reason. Eden was very adamant about it.” 

You gulp — look back at Eden, who is speaking to Simon at the kitchen counter — then back at Jesus.

“Do you know what she means by that?” You are fully aware that Jesus knows exactly what this is about.

“I… Have an inkling.” 

“An inkling?” Jesus smirks and nods towards the empty seat. “Go. Eden will take over the hosting duties for a moment, and if she needs an extra pair of hands, she knows where to find Me.” 

Who are you to say no to Jesus’ instructions? Eden likely told Him on purpose. You find her gaze across the table whilst you take off your apron, and she winks. As you sit down next to Andrew with bucking knees, he looks up with a kind, almost surprised smile.

“Oh, shalom (Y/n)! How nice to see you again. I have to compliment you on your challah once again. I know I keep saying it, but wow, you never cease to amaze me.” Andrew’s eyes widen as he sees the blush on your face, then realises how he worded his praise, “I—I mean with your bread— Of—Of course you are a great person, too. I— I think— I think you’re great.” 

You smile softly at him, butterflies raging around in your stomach as you gaze upon his genuine expression. “Thank you for your sweet words, Andrew.” 

He gives you an almost giddy look before he snaps out of it, clearing his throat.

“Would you like a drink? Bread? Grapes?” 

“Please.” you softly murmur. He gives you a sweet look.

As he reaches for said items of food scattered around the table, Simon leans towards his wife, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s up with them, huh?” 

“They’re totally into each other.” Eden whispers back. 

Simon nearly chokes on his own saliva. “What? (Y/n) is into Andrew? How is it, that I only find this out now? Did you know about this? For how long has this been going on?” 

“I found out this afternoon while we were preparing Shabbat dinner. It turns out that she has managed to keep her feelings hidden for over a decade.” 

“Over a decade? Are you telling me that I could have been saved from Andrew talking my ear off by pining over her constantly for a whole decade? (Y/n) this, (Y/n) that… I mean, I wouldn’t mind her as my sister-in-law, she’s a very nice person and I think they’d be a good match. But he could have been with her all this time and still he decided to constantly speak to me about it.” 

Eden hums and raises an eyebrow at him, turning to the counter to get the guests a refill of wine. 

“She’s already you sister-in-law, Simon.” she reminds him.

Simon frowns at that, thinking for a moment before his face falls into realisation. “Oh, yeah, that’s true… Anyways, let’s hope and pray that they will finally set things in motion now. It’s been ten long years overdue.” 

“I hope so, too.” Eden replies.

She smiles, pivots to the dinner table with a certain flair, and momentarily meets Jesus’ gaze. He nods towards you and Andrew, then winks at her. She returns it before tending to her guests again.

[girlactionfigure]

The guard passed it on to her husband Kurt, but for decades the couple's youngest son, Frank, was unable to read the handwritten note.

Here, 75 years after the death camp was liberated, he tells Sky News how it felt to read the letter which is now on display to visitors at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum: 

My father, mother and older brother and I were sent to Auschwitz in December 1943.

A transport of around 5,000 inmates had arrived at the camp in September before us and we were part of the second batch of 5,000.

We had no idea why we were there.

We were kept in a Czech family camp which was a ploy by the Nazis to show the International Red Cross that Czech Jews were being well looked after.

At the time, we had no idea why the family camp was even established because most of the time, when children arrived at the Auschwitz railway station, they were almost immediately killed in the gas chambers.

The International Red Cross never inspected Auschwitz so the Nazis gassed and killed most of the September transport.

This was in the March and April of 1944.

Then a few months later, they decided to make a selection from the second group which my family and I were in.

We all lined up in front of notorious SS doctor Josef Mengele, nicknamed the Angel of Death, who selected who would live or die.

My brother John, who was four years older than me, was handicapped and he was chosen to die.

And, because I was less than 12 years old, I was also put on death row.

Vilma Grunwald with her sons John (left) and Frank (then known as Misa). Pic: United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

We were both standing in the line when one of the prisoners I had been working for as a messenger came over and quickly moved me into a group of older children.

He had saved my life.

But when my mother found out that John, who was 16, was going to be gassed, she decided to stay with him.

She could not bear the idea of him going into the gas chamber by himself.

About five days after the selection, she wrote a letter to my father, who had been moved to a medical camp because he was a physician.

She gave it to a guard and - despite the massive size of Auschwitz - he delivered it to my father.

There were between 30,000 and 40,000 guards in the camp and many of them were not SS.

Some of them were older military people in their 50s and 60s who had not been brainwashed by the Nazi regime.

The letter that Vilma Grunwald wrote to her husband before she died. Pic: United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

My mother, who was always a good judge of character, had picked the right person.

A few months later, Auschwitz was liberated, and I was reunited with my father - by this time I was in Austria and he was in Germany.

It was then he told me he had a letter from my mother, written to him shortly before she and my brother were taken on trucks to the gas chambers.

He told me it was a goodbye, a loving goodbye to him, and that my mother had wished him a good life.

I was only 12 years old at the time, so it was too painful to read and I pushed it to the back of my mind.

We lived in London for two years, and then moved to New York City in 1951.

My father practised medicine there and I went to the Pratt Institute and studied industrial design.

I didn't see the note until after my father died in 1967 and I was sorting out his possessions.

I had thought about it many times over the years and I was curious, but I knew it would be too depressing and upsetting to read.

Read More: Here

[frodothefair]

Modern Eothiriel! The Rancher and the Model

The plot bunnies are multiplying, aren't they? Today, I got an idea for a modern AU. I don't know if I'll ever actually write this -- and my personal opinion is that a modern AU may as well be an original fiction nine times out of ten -- but here goes. My favorite thing about modern fiction is that I can easily draw on personal experience.

Lothíriel is a young fashion model who lives and works between Italy, France, and occasionally New York. On the surface, she has a glamorous, fast-paced lifestyle, but originally, she is from a mid-sized city in an Eastern European country, and her family is various levels of problematized, so she helps them financially whenever she can. (For instance, her father, Imrahil, is elderly and disabled -- and also a patriarch who runs the family with an iron fist; her brother Amrothos is an on and off unemployed alcoholic, Erchirion is a put-upon small business owner, and Elphir is a doctor, but institutional medicine in that country is notoriously underpaid, so he spends his time juggling his work at the hospital with private-pay clients, as well as pulling strings to get his brother into treatment).

Éomer and Éowyn are siblings who run a horse farm in the upper Midwest (a region of the United States), raising horses for show and for racing. Their uncle Theoden, who bequeathed them the farm, passed away in a tragic accident some years ago, and Éomer and Éowyn are finally taking a vacation, for the first time since his passing. They rent a property in the South of France, in a picturesque historic beach town called Eze, and they aim to stay and soak up the sun for at least a week or two.

Little do they know that the picturesque location is the site of a modeling shoot, and that's how Éomer meets Lothíriel. (The idiot probably wanders into the modeling shoot by accident, because he's too overawed by the scenery, and his head is all but literally in the clouds).

Their connection is instant, and they continue to meet at local restaurants and cafes, and explore the coast and nearby Nice on her days off. When they part ways, they continue to talk online, and over the coming months and years, they make time to meet between their respective commitments, in a different European city every time, where they spend their days lounging around rented lofts talking and making love, with occasional forays out into the world to attend cultural venues and find sustenance and libations.

But in the end, every long distance relationship is fated to end -- either by calling it quits or becoming short-distance. As a model, Lothiriel's days are numbered: most models do not stay in the industry past their mid-twenties, and modeling is increasingly less of a career, and more of a way to pay for whatever will happen next.

As such, eventually Lothíriel and Éomer do get married, and have a beautiful wedding that transcends time and space, celebrating by turns in her home country, then in one of Lothiriel's erstwhile "home bases" (Paris or Milan), and then on the horse farm. But after the dust settles and reality sets in... what then?

Inevitably, a life on a horse ranch is less glamorous when it's a day to day endeavor rather than a getaway. What is spiritually healing, relaxing, and exotic for a week or two can become spectacularly dull, especially when one's husband is often gone, the business side of running the farm is hopelessly opaque, and the nearest city with an airport and any modicum of "culture" as Lothíriel understands it is a two hour drive away. To make matters worse, the nearby small town, beneath its quaint veneer, has a drug and unemployment problem, and the local women of her social class are seemingly from another planet: they enjoy hearing her stories but see her an outsider, and their predominant interests are gardening, church potlucks, and perhaps bookclubs where they consume more wine than words.

Fairly soon, Lothíriel is at loose ends and even depressed, wondering if she has made a mistake, and if she and her husband have anything in common. After all, it's one thing to live jet setting lifestyle, meeting only from time to time, but quite another to live together when one is used to rising early and the other is a confirmed night owl.

Can Lothíriel find a place for herself in middle America? Can she find a way to be useful and bring her experience to bear? And most importantly, can she be a support and a partner to her husband as opposed to a listless and unhappy weight? Only one way to find out!

What do you think? @emmanuellececchi @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @celeluwhenfics

[ghostpoetics]

The Picture of Dorian Gray is interesting. Oscar Wilde was a part of aestheticism, or "art for art's sake." This was pretty big because in Victorian England, art was often meant to serve a function; this isn't a new idea. Often, the function was to be didactic, or to prescribe a moral lesson.

That said, I would argue that there is a theme in Dorian Gray about Victorian standards of beauty. There is a strong irony in Dorian being the epitome of (racist, white supremacist) beauty standards: fair skin ("looks as if he was made out of ivory and rose leaves"); "crisp gold hair"; "frank" blue eyes. The irony is because Victorians associated being beautiful with being a good person and being outside this standard with being a bad person. They often used phrenology and physiognomy (most evident in Stoker's description of the Count in Dracula) to tell the reader whether someone is good or bad. And of course, using someone's facial features and the size and shape of one's forehead, nose, etc. to determine whether someone is good or bad has its roots in racism, xenophobia, and antisemitism.

Therefore, there is a disruption of Victorian preconceptions when Dorian fixates on maintaining his youth and beauty and is assumed to be virtuous because of his appearance when he is a horrible, callous person.

That is to say that I think a take on Dorian Gray that explores the beauty/fashion industry would work very well, given how so many of these companies perpetuate unrealistic and negative standards. Dove was being applauded for its body positivity in an ad a while ago, alongside its insistence that it wants to promote self-esteem and good body image, but they reject potential models with any acne or too many freckles. While Dove speaks about being inclusive and promoting women of color, so many of these companies, including Dove, sell skin-lightening creams in countries like India; they promote the idea that light skin is more attractive than dark skin. Unfortunately, there are horrible ways the modern fashion and beauty industries mirror imperialistic Victorian values that, with the right creators, could be explored well in a contemporary Dorian Gray adaptation.

Unfortunately, I was already cynical about any and all Netflix book adaptations, and, regarding the author's biography and the book's themes, I feel like Dorian Gray cannot be removed from its queerness, despite statements such as the PinkNews article, which says, "While The Picture of Dorian Gray isn't explicitly queer, given that it was first published in 1890..."

I would take umbrage with the author's definition of "explicitly queer," given that the book was submitted as evidence of Wilde's "gross indecency" in the counter lawsuit that sent him to prison and shortened his life through years of hard labor and an injury he sustained that later developed into fatal meningitis. Despite Wilde's edits to "restrain" the book's queerness, it was explicit enough to be used as evidence to prove Wilde's homosexuality. I think it's a mistake that highly limits the history of queer art to reduce "explicitly queer" to only depictions of kissing and sex.

Anyway, those are my rambling thoughts about the Dorian Gray Netflix adaptation. Besides the brother thing, I was already skeptical because it's Netflix...

[nicoforlifetrue]

I need to get the gangs designs out of my head like, right now so here we go! Au characters first then cannon guys spoilers below

Anyone the color crew considers a friend gets a matching jacket that green made with something representing them embroidered onto the old jackets, chosen has one and has it tied around his waist most of the time, everyone else wears it near 24/7

Victim: gray dead anime mom hair, scene kid from Spencer's in the 12s looking clothes, long sleeves striped under shirt with a t shirt on top, ripped up skinny jeans, has broken shackles around his wrists that act like the lasso tool but he doesn't use very often, a fire fox icon often sleeping on his shoulders he has three that act as attack dogs, soft rainy day blue eyes that are normally kept in that same dead anime mom half lidded state, he looks calm and approachable and loving after all that's how he gets you.

Chosen: black hair to his shoulders that he keeps in a bun, dyes red streaks into it, combat jacket three sizes too big, ripped up t shirt and jeans he never bothers to fix, wears a face mask when hiding his identity because his mouth is abnormally long and it freaks people out, has a locket with a family picture in it (it's a picture of Alan's face and cupped hands, the hollows are in his hands waving at the camera, Alan took his picture made it the computer background then took a screenshot of the boys, it was Alan's phone screen lock picture) everything he owns is burned at the hems because of his anger issues triggering his powers. Eyes glow red and are set into a permanent scowl, he has worry lines.

Dark: wild red hair he's never brushed in his life, he dyes black streaks in it, has one of those slutty leotard things that show the hips? You know what I mean, and combat pants, he has five virabands one of each limb, he made the first one just to give chosen a challenge but after seconds powers awakened he made more for when the kid has nightmares and needs to be held down so he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else with his powers going haywire, it only really works because the powers not concentrated, also has a locket with the family picture, he says it's for chosens sake but he stays up at night sometimes staring at it. Has black eyes but his pupils glow such a bright red their mistaken for red, all the hollows have sharp teeth but darks are especially sharp and he keeps them in a lazy grin, he has pronounced crows feet.

Second: orange wavy hair in a low short pony with it down it only reach's his shoulders, basic orange hoodie and well he does have his own clothes he more often then not is wearing some eclectic mess of stolen goods from his brothers, he likes Vic's shirts and darks pants the most and will try to get away with chosens jacket at any given opportunity, chosen trades his hair bands to get it back. Eyes glow a radioactive green, his lip is always busted from him chewing it, as are his cuticles from picking at them, is always a little wide eyed and sad looking even if he's over joyed just because his face has kind of settled like that, real case of "resting depression face"

Cannons turn!

Cannon second! Same hair as au, wearing the groups jacket and has is closed most of the time because he gets cold easy but takes it off to sleep, wears paint pants and shirt near always and there always covered in new color splash each day, convinced chosen to perce his ears and has a industrial one that he puts a spare pencil tool in after the box episode so he's never really disarmed, the other side has a little curser on a chain because he felt bad that Alan couldn't get a jacket. His eyes are still nuke green but they don't glow and his hands have calusus but he doesn't pick them like au infact he has them painted, heavy eye bags because he actually has to get up in the morning when the crew decides to have late night party's.

Red: fluffy red mop that he just cuts when ever it gets into his eyes, has the fellow headband to keep it off his scalp when exercising, cat ears, no really he has actual working cat ears and not normal ones, his jacket is hanging on for dear life and Is always at least a little off his shoulders even keeps it on when he sleeps, gym clothes even in the snow, bandages and gaze patches everywhere, his jacket hides the fact that he's fucking ripped because after the "blue punching obsidian" incident he got competitive and started working harder, he's up to diamond now. Eyes are whiskey colored have slits like a cats and he's sensitive to air changes just like cats are.

Blue: ties the group jacket like a cardigan around their neck when working in their garden or making potions so it doesn't get ruined, overalls are a farmers best friend, has the longest hair out of everyone reaching his knees, ties it into a bun for fights, braids it for potion making and sleep, and puts it in a ponytail the rest of the time, keeps it down when they plan on just hanging out with the guys. Has excessive nerve damage from the lava and can't feel if they've been cut or injured below their chest. Eyes are a very rich mahogany that gained purple flecks after a while of messing with potions, red asked Herobrine about it and it turns out to just be his body gaining immunity to most of the bad side affects potion making gives you (turns out his neather wart addiction is actually fairly common among potion makers because it helps build and keep those immunities which are important when experimenting)

Yellow: blond typical trans boy hair cut, meaning under shave with a quiff, has the jackets sleeves perpetually shrugged up his arms, only closes it when working on a more advanced machine, under shirt is stained red and he doesn't own a single pair of clean cargo jeans all of them have at least one mend in them. The bridge of his nose is stained red from rubbing there when he had redstone on his fingers, his fingers themselves are also permanently red, where's glasses near identical to Alan's, his eyes are a washed out pinkish rose, almost gray.

Green: for the longest time had an an uncontrolled frizzy mess of hair I'm talking untamable never seen coconut oil 3c, but after they sticks where introduced to dj, he managed to wrangle them into locks, DJ helps him braid them best he can if he ever wants to clean up but it's either dreads or spending hours everyday calming them. Only one who wares the crew jacket like a normal person, also the only one with a normal clean and sensible wardrobe in general, likes skirts but considering it's a bitch to fight in them only wears them when going out and knowing the others won't start a group bonding brawl, always has both head phones and earbuds on his person and is the only one too keep his phone intact and not broken. Eyes are hazel mixing green and gold with flecks of blue around the center, has audio processing issues and it helps him understand people if there's a background noise of some sort also fights better with a beat. Also has really bad tinnitus and always has, it's been made worse by recent fights though.

Purple: curly hair more of a 3b or 3a, keeps it in a single braid so it's easier to keep track of and care for, mango helps them with it in the mornings, the most recent one to get a jacket after the king stuff went down. Likes fancy and just nicer clothes like button ups and poets shirts and leggings, has bird wings because there mother was made for a stick flight animation test, but there weak and they can't fly like there mom can, they can hover and glide but they need an elytra to act as basically a sort of brace if they want to propel them selves, and even then they can't get to high speeds without rockets. Has orangy red autumn colored eyes like there mother.

[butcherlarry]

Kent farm and country Clark Headcanons

Some headcanons about the Kent family farm that @januariat requested I post about :) 

I grew up on a farm and at our peak we had a couple hundred head of beef cattle (we’ve had registered angus cattle for about 100 years, and have been farming since the family settled in that area in the mid 1800s I think?  We’re no longer at that farm, the parents moved themselves and the cattle to another one in the state, so they’re still farming).  We also did a lot of crop farming, mostly corn, wheat, and soybeans.  Dad had some hay fields that he would mow and bale multiple times throughout throughout the summer/fall to make bales as some of the food to feed our cattle throughout the year.  My siblings and I were involved in 4H/FFA growing up (my sister and I were in 4H, my brother did 4H and then FFA when he got to high school).  We always raised two steers to take to our county fair as projects (and maybe some breeding and open class projects on the side), and my brother did shop/metal working projects as well.  Needless to say, I have a lot of THOUGHTS and FEELINGS about Clark growing up on a farm in a small rural community.

I don’t read the comics (except WFA), and most of my interaction with the Superman/Clark Kent fandom has been through watching the newer movies, being in fandom discords, reading Tumblr posts, and fanfic that I’ve read.  This was just something fun for me to ponder about based on my life experiences (I also work in the ag industry, specifically the meats industry if you couldn’t tell from my username, lol)

For the type of farm, I think the Kents would have a lot of acreage do crop farming. I'm not as familiar with any specialty crops grown in Kansas, but as I stated before, the big three that were grown on my farm growing up were corn, wheat, and soybeans.  Those are pretty popular crops to grow in the midwest, so I could see the Kents growing those too. Not sure how viable it would be, but sunflowers can also grown as a crop.  I like the thought of the Kents maybe growing that because, you know, Kansas. 

If they had any livestock, it would be a small amount.  I’m not 100% sure on Clark’s current age in the comics, but if he was around before the 1980s, he might remember his parents raising some cattle or hogs as an extra way to get cash.  Unfortunately, there was a farm crisis that hit the Midwest in the 80s, and it hurt a lot of small farms.  Now a days, you have to to be raising a lot of one animal to make any kind of profit (if any).  If you’re raising hogs, you need a barn that holds 2000+ head finishing hogs to make money (I worked in one of these barns and a hog nursey that held 5000+ during covid when I got laid off from my job.  It SUCKS.  I developed a new fear in life of being eaten alive by 300+ lb pigs, but that’s a story for another day).  It’s the same with chicken and turkey as well, but I’m not as sure on the barn size.  If the Kents do have any livestock, it would be animals that would be used to supplement their diet, like a small flock of chickens for eggs, and a dairy animal (goat or cow?  Maybe goat since they’re smaller and don’t take up as much space as a cow.  Might also be easier to handle for the Kent parents as they get older, but I’ve never owned a goat before, so don’t quote me on that.  Goats are smart and are pretty good at getting in trouble, lol).  

If the Kents have any large meat livestock, like cattle, it would only be one or two, which leads me to my next headcanon, that Clark was in 4H/FFA growing up!  I love, love, LOVE the idea of Clark being in 4H or FFA while in school at Smallville, and having a beef or dairy beef steer(s) as a livestock project.  Also, Clark would show his project animals at his county fair!  I don't think he would win or do well in the main classes.  From my experience, usually it's families that are big into showing cattle, and you need a lot of money for that for all the equipment and supplies that goes with it. They also tend to travel a lot with those animals, and show them in other contests as well (maybe state fair.  If you want to hear a rant about how much I don’t like show cattle and the show cattle industry, hmu). If anything, Clark would probably do well in the showmanship shows. That's more dependent on the trust between you and your animal, and how much you've worked with them.  I can definitely see Clark working with his animals everyday, cleaning, feeding, and leading them.  You know someone has really worked with there animal if they can lead and stop them so the animal’s feet are positioned correctly without having to use a show stick to move the feet (yes, there is a correct way cattle need to stand when showing.  A lot of terminology describing the feet positions too.  Again, if you want more details, hmu).

On top of showing cattle, I also love the thought of Clark taking a shop project through FFA/4H, especially if it's welding. He could use it as a way to practice with his laser vision!  You can definitely tell a good weld from a bad weld, and I can see Clark working on his laser vision skills to improve.  My brother and Dad would work on, fix and build equipment and fences with welding, so I can also see Clark learning how to do that to help out on the farm!  And I'm sure Jonathan Kent would appreciate it since he wouldn't have to spend as much money on the welding and torch gasses and the equipment that goes with it.

Welp, those are my headcanons for Clark, the Kents, and farming.  I’m sure if you poke me, I could go into more detail on somethings, or think of more headcanons about those topics.  Most of my ag experience has been in raising beef cattle, so that shaped most of these headcanons that I have.   If you or someone else in the Superman fandom have a farming background, please tell me what your headcanons are!!  I would love to hear them!  Growing up on a farm was a big part of Clark’s life, so we need more country Clark stories!

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Business Dealings

There were definite advantages to being the ‘unknown’ Tracy, Virgil decided.

And in his opinion, the very best of these was the extra freedom he had over his brothers.

Virgil smiled at the attractive and attentive waitress who delivered his – decidedly unhealthy – lunch to his private booth, then rolled his shoulders, grinning to himself.

His brothers might have public success, a public profile, and receive some … interesting fan mail, that certainly enlivened quiet days on Tracy Island; but the price they paid for this recognition was, well, recognition.

It had gotten to the point that Jeff had mandated personal security for the four of his sons who had existed in the public eye. Virgil, however …

There was no way a bodyguard would have let him into this neighbourhood, let alone this dive of a diner – that made the world’s best burger and fries, hands down. And the looming gorillas in suits that were Tracy Industries personal protection specialists definitely discouraged the kind of ‘friendly’ service the waitress was giving him.

A gaggle of teenagers came bouncing into the diner, drawing away the waitress. Virgil watched bemusedly as one of the boys started teasing her.

He drowned a laugh in his milkshake, as she bapped one on the head with her notebook, reminding Virgil of Scott dealing with Gordon in one of his troublemaking moods.

Virgil ate as the waitress settled the group, and took their orders.

Once they had been served their food, she checked back in with him, and promptly fetched his requested coffee.

Then she sat herself at the table with the teens. “So what was all the noise about when you came in?”

“We’re celebrating!” came the chorus.

“Celebrating what?”

“Johnny got his photos back!” crowed the obvious sibling.

“And what photos are those, then?”

“Well, you know how that busted old factory over in Industrial East blewed itsself up?”

“It was kinda hard to miss. They’re still tryin’ to replace all the windows it broke, after two weeks.”

“Yeah, well, there was those two guys trapped, and they had ta get International Rescue to get ‘em out.”

“I know that.”

So did Virgil. It had been a nightmare rescue, and was a completely avoidable situation. Virgil was in town now as Tracy Industries representative; his father was buying the site, and the attached business. It had been a viable manufacturer, with a good product – the disaster had been caused by greedy management.

Jeff was trying to prevent an even bigger disaster – the collapse of a middle sized town. For all it was a ‘busted old factory’, it was a major employer in the region. The people deserved better.

The waitress continued, “Wish I’d been able to see them. Either the planes or the men. Pity I was stuck here.”

Little brother laughed. “Well, today’s your lucky day!”

Virgil froze. The boy hadn’t paid him any attention when he came in, he couldn’t have been there and recognised Virgil, could he?

His fingers strayed to his watch. Should he call his Father? Could he contain the situation here on his own?

“Cause Johnny here is a genius, and he thought to grab his camera. So here, today, is the first ever photographs of the …”

“THUNDERBIRDS!” the group shouted in unison, and broke out cheering.

Virgil started, slopping coffee onto himself, but now he had bigger worries. Brains was trialling a new technology in the ships, with a view to replacing the Photo Detectors, after the detection system had failed at that movie set, and Scott hadn’t reported activity of either system at debrief. Had the new technology disrupted the Detectors? Had the Photo Jammers worked?

The waitress noticed his mishap, and hurried over, napkins at the ready. “I’m so sorry, did you scald yourself? Can I get you a fresh cup?”

Virgil shook his head, accepting the wad of napkins. “No, I’m fine. Sorry, I was in a world of my own and I got startled by the noise.” He smiled. “I’m not normally so jumpy.”

She smiled in return. “They were loud, but, please, don’t mind those idiots. They’re a little excitable.”

Virgil deposed of the dampened napkins – he was going to have to change his shirt, his father would kill him if he turned up at a business meeting with a giant coffee stain on his shirt, and turned back to the waitress. “Sounds like it. Was that the Thunderbirds they were shouting about?”

She glared back at the group. “Oh yes, we had a bit of excitement a couple of weeks back. International Rescue saved two guys from a factory fire across town. Johnny here reckons he got photographs of them.”

“Yeah! We were just gonna have our first look! You wanna see?” The teens where hanging over Virgil’s booth, grinning, and immensely pleased with themselves.

Virgil nodded. “I’d heard they had some kind of system to stop photos being taken,” he ventured as the kids piled in across from him.

“Yeah, well I shot these beauties, no problem,” boasted one boy. Virgil eyed him, worriedly, trying to see if he could recognise the boy, but couldn’t. Hopefully the fact that Virgil had spent the whole time in his fire-suit would mean the boy couldn’t recognise him.

Apparently there was nothing about Virgil that rang any bells in ‘Johnnys’ memories; either that, or he was too focused on his moment of glory. “You’re lucky, mista,” the boy continued. “‘Cus the rest of the world is gonna hafta pay to see these!” He grinned. “And pay big! Hell, I might even buy myself an island, like that astronaut weirdo!”

There was laughter and catcalls at this pronouncement, and Virgil carefully swallowed his reaction. He gestured to the envelope. “Well, before you call the realtors, better check the goods.”

There were enthusiastic cries of encouragement, and the envelope was opened with a care that amused Virgil. Johnny couldn’t have been more careful if he had been handling the Mona Lisa.

The first two photographs were blurry generic landscapes, then a series of five less blurry images of bared backsides hanging out of a car’s windows at traffic lights. Virgil picked one up, and examined it briefly, before it was snatched out of his hand by a red-faced boy. Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, “One of his models, I take it?”

The boy flushed even brighter red, as the waitress laughed.

“No!” That was Johnny, staring, bug eyed at the top photo in his hand. Virgil craned his neck. A blurry, staticky mess of grey tones filled the centre of the image framed by the clear, focused image of the fire ravaged factory building.

The group fell silent.

The image was discarded in favour of the next in the stack. “No!”

The next. “No!”

“No!”

“No!”

“No!”

“No!”

“No!”

“No!”

“No!”

All the way down the stack. Every image had the same distortion, sometimes in the centre, sometimes there were smaller, multiple areas of distortion.

Virgil could tell what the boy had been trying to photograph by the relative sizes and positions. Thunderbird One. Thunderbird Two. Both Thunderbirds. Thunderbird Two on her struts. Thunderbird Two with her module open. The Diceltalyne Ladder truck ….

If it International Rescue had it on site, Johnny had tried to photograph it. Including, Virgil noted, himself and his brothers. Those zoomed in shots with the four small blurs could only be an attempt to photograph people.

Virgil was impressed. Kid clearly had some quality gear.

When Virgil said as much, Johnny roused himself enough to offer a slight proud grin. “Yeah, my uncle gave it to me, he’s a professional photographer and upgraded. I got his old stuff.” The boy wilted again. “Not that it did me much good,” he mumbled, staring at the blurry images.

Virgil smiled wryly. “International Rescue are pretty adamant about the no photographs thing,” he reminded the boy. “Looks like I heard right about their anti-photography kit.”

Johnny sighed. “Yeah.” He shuffled the photographs back into a stack, before glancing around the room. “There goes my private island,” he sighed. “Oh well.”

Virgil took the stack from him, and perused through it again. Johnny looked utterly miserable, and the rest of the gang was equally morose.

Virgil came to a decision. “You get these developed in town here?” he asked.

Johnny nodded. “Yeah, drugstore down on First does photos.”

Virgil slid out the ‘International Rescue’ photos into their own pile. “They do enlargements, say A4 size?”

Johnny frowned. “Yeah. Why do you want to know?”

“What’s he charge?”

There was a muttered argument across the table, and the waitress watched him warily. Johnny offered up a price. Virgil suppressed a smirk. Kid was damn good, price was high, but not so high as to be implausible.

He did a quick spot of mental arithmetic. Then reconsidered, before sliding one of the traffic stop images onto the International Rescue pile, and pulled out his wallet, before counting out a number of notes on the pile, before pushing it towards Johnny.

“I’ll be back here this time tomorrow,” he said. “Think you can be here with A4 copies of all these?”

The boy gaped at the cash. “Uh, yeah. I guess so. Why?”

Virgil tapped the cash. “If you are, you get the same amount again. That should keep you in film, and out of trouble for a while.”

The boy stared. “But … but you can’t see anything. They’re all blurry.”

Virgil nodded. “Yep. But I know a lot of guys interested in International Rescue. These …” he gestured at the photos. “Will drive them nuts.” He grinned at the boy.

Who grinned back.

The waitress looked at Virgil suspiciously. “And the, uh, ass picture?”

Virgil grinned. “I took some similar photos, when I first got a camera, about Johnny’s age,” he admitted. “My Grandma found them, and tore them up, and then tore strips off me.” He shrugged, sheepishly. “Figured it’d be nice to have something to remind me of the out night I had with my friends. ‘Cause we had a lot of fun.”

As the boys hooted in glee, and high-fived each other, the waitress stared at Virgil, before softening. “Boys,” she snorted.

Virgil shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”

The next day, Virgil wandered into the diner, and was surprised to find Johnny already waiting for him, shifting from foot to foot, anxiously.

Virgil slid into the booth he had occupied the previous day, and Johnny followed him, clutching a large envelope to his chest.

The waitress wandered over, and took Virgil’s order. She looked at Johnny. Virgil followed her gaze. “If you’re eating, I’m paying,” he said.

Johnny shook his head. “Nah,” he mumbled, not meeting Virgil’s eyes. Virgil frowned, and glanced at the waitress in askance. She shrugged, before wandering off.

“What’s up? Problem with the pictures?”

The boy shrugged. “Kinda.”

Virgil stared. “What’s the problem? Couldn’t get them all printed?”

Johnny mumbled at the tabletop. “I didn’t think about it. I just … took the photos. I didn’t think about what could happen.”

Virgil frowned. “What could happen?” he echoed.

“They say no photos. They say they have to stay secret. I didn’t think …”

Virgil got it. “You’re worried that someone might be able to unscramble these pictures, and then they’ll stop working. You’re worried about the people who might die if that happens, people who’ll die because of photos you took.”

Johnny stared at him. “Yeah, how’d you …?”

Virgil shrugged. “Because I’d worry about the same thing, if I were in your place.”

“So why’d …”

“Why’d I offer to buy the photos?” Virgil glanced around, checking for anybody listening. “Because International Rescue saved two of my friends. And my dad.”

The boy stared.

Virgil sighed, and pulled out his wallet, digging into a hidden section, he pulled out a folded up newspaper clipping. He opened it up, and pushed it across the table to Johnny.

He picked it up, and read the article.

He frowned, and read it again.

Then stared at Virgil.

“Th-this says that they saved … J-jeff …”

Virgil nodded. “Yup.”

“Your dad’s one of his advisors?” The boy was practically begging Virgil to agree.

Virgil shook his head. “Nope. His advisors are my friends.”

“Y-y-you’re …”

Virgil took pity on him. “I’m Jeff Tracy’s son. Well, one of them. He asked me to come and oversee the purchase of that ‘busted old factory’.”

The boy stared. “Why?”

“It was a good business. The problem was with the managers, not the product, not the production. And without that factory, this town dies.”

Johnny stared at him.

Virgil took back his newspaper clipping as the waitress put down his order. Virgil chewed down a dozen fries and drank a good half of his coffee while he waited for Johnny to regather his wits.

Eventually his companion spoke. “Your dad’s like mega-rich.”

“Yup.”

“He has all sorts of people working for him.”

“Yup.”

“I give you these photos,” Johnny tapped the envelope, “you give them to him.”

Virgil shrugged. “That was the plan.”

“And he gives them to some hotshot photograph technician who unscrambles the images …”

“Wrong.”

Johnny stared at him.

“Most of my training is as an engineer, but I really love art. I’ve done a few – more than a few – photography courses. The kind of mess you’ve got there,” Virgil indicated the envelopes, “is some kind of electronic – maybe even x-ray – emission messing up the film. Unless you know the frequencies, it’d take oh, I don’t know, a hundred people a million years to unscramble those images.”

The boy blinked.

“And you’d need the negatives,” Virgil added, deciding this his burger had been neglected for long enough, and took a bite, watching as Johnny thought it through.

Johnny frowned. “You’d really need the negatives?”

Virgil nodded, his mouth full of – really delicious – burger.

Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “I remember my uncle saying that you need the original negatives to do proper forensic analysis of a photograph. That’s why a photographer should never let go of his negatives.”

Virgil nodded again, taking another bite. Damn, he was gonna miss this place when he left. Grandma and Kyrano were fantastic cooks, but a proper greasy diner burger was hard to beat.

He finished the burger before Johnny moved again. Evidently the boy had come to some kind of decision, because he pulled out a negatives folder, and slid the ashtray into the centre of the table. “You got a light?” he asked as he dumped the negatives into ashtray.

Virgil frowned. “You not gonna save the rest of your negatives?”

Johnny shook his head. “They’re blurry as all hell, and useless, no point.”

Virgil eyed him, but the teen was resolute. Virgil shrugged. “Well, if you’re sure,” he pulled out his cigarette lighter, a cheap disposable thing that frustrated his father and brothers, but suited Virgil fine. He pulled it back, when Johnny reached for it. “Not inside,” he said firmly. “Film burns fast, and film burns hot. You do not want to do this inside.”

They went outside, Virgil borrowing a broom from the bemused waitress to sweep clear a large patch of asphalt as far from the diner and anything flammable as he could get. At his gesture, Johnny put the negatives down, weighed against the breeze by a small piece of wood, as Virgil wrapped a scrap of cleaning cloth around one end of a long stick.

When Johnny was ready, Virgil used his lighter to light the cloth, and handed the stick to Johnny. “Arm and stick length,” he commanded. “Stay up wind.”

As Virgil had known it would, the film burst into enthusiastic and hot flame the second the lit stick touched it. Johnny jumped, and dropped the stick, swearing.

The fire didn’t last for long, and Virgil picked up the stick stamping down on the charred end to put out the residual flame, before using it to poke at the pathetic ashes in front of them.

Johnny stared, bug eyed again as Virgil poked the ashes, and pushed the pathetic scraps of film into the melted asphalt, sealing them away forever.

Virgil glanced at him. “You okay?”

Johnny nodded. “Yeah. I just never … damn, that was … scary.”

Virgil shrugged. But he did remember the first time he had tried burning film … He’d had a hang of a time explaining how the bathroom basin had gotten cracked through. Who’d have thought you could crack porcelain with a couple of strips of photographic film? Not fourteen-year-old Virgil Tracy.

They went back into the diner, and Virgil ordered milkshakes. Johnny slurped his as Virgil examined his new purchases. He grinned. Brains would be pleased that his new photo jammers worked beautifully, and against some high-grade kit. Johnny had been coaxed into describing the equipment his uncle had given him, and it was better than a lot of the professional paparazzi had hanging from their necks.

Virgil’s grin widened as he got the bottom of the stack. Oh, memory. His backside burned with the memory of his grandmother’s ire, but he owed Gordon, and he owed Gordon big. This would do nicely.

Let’s see him ‘paint’ with his butt on Virgil’s good canvases after Grandma had thrashed him for having this.

Virgil was on a high as he left the diner for the last time; Johnny practically skipping off, his stomach and wallet full, and conscience clean.

International Rescue: Protected.

Payback for Gordon: Secured.

It was just the Tracy Industries deal left to finalise, and he’d have a clean sweep.

It was a good day.

Notes:

I sat down to write a completely different story, and this happened.

One day I may get to write the story I intended to write, but for now …

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[alj4890]

Round Robin

Choices Books/Characters Used So Far: The Royal Romance, Platinum

Word total: 2,552

Masterlist for the Round Robin event

Next writer: @kingliam2019

Hosted by @choicesprompts

Chapter 4 Initial Meeting

"Gah!"

Bertrand jerked awake from the nightmares he'd been trapped in. Sweat beaded his forehead yet he felt chilled to the bone. His breathing was labored as he kicked the covers off of himself. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and decided that four in the morning was a perfectly acceptable time to give up on sleep.

"How could I possibly rest after that?!" He grumbled.

Slipping his robe on, he quietly left his suite.

The resort he'd secured for this endeavor was on an island off the coast of Cordonia. It had its own airfield, dock, and rolling hills with thick forests to block the hotel from any possible onlookers from the mainland. The front of the hotel faced the ocean and possessed the only beach the island boasted of. The rest was a rocky shore line that few well seasoned boat captains could navigate around.

The secluded area allowed his more famous clients a chance to work through the planned events without paparazzi and the public watching. This would also allow Bertrand to film and have exclusive rights to said progress of these well known individuals.

This has to work, he thought to himself. It must!

Once he made it to the main lobby, he drifted on until he found the hotel's kitchen.

He paused when he heard noise within.

Peering around the corner, he felt both relieved and irritated to see Maxwell rummaging around the industrial size refrigerator.

"Are you still up or have you decided to begin getting up early to start the day off right?"

Maxwell jumped in surprise and whirled around with a large tub of ice cream in his arms.

Bertrand released a resigned sigh at the sight. He knew his brother too well to even hope he had gone to bed at some point during the night.

"What are you doing up so early?" Maxwell asked in order to avoid further questions of his late night activities.

"After the nightmares I've had, I decided that sleep will no longer be of any use."

Bertrand started a nearby coffeepot.

Maxwell found a spoon and hopped up on the counter. Digging in to his tub of Rocky Road, he hummed his concern.

Bertrand rolled his eyes. "Was that an indication of sorrow over my predicament or am I supposed to take it as an inquiry?"

"Both." Maxwell said around a mouthful of heavenly flavors. "What'd you dream about?"

"What else other than the very thing that is weighing heavily upon my mind?" Bertrand grumbled.

"Ah." Maxwell ate another spoonful of ice cream. "How bad was it?"

"Horrible." Bertrand shuddered. "The worst case scenario one could possibly imagine. We were unable to help a wealthy client from Spain reveal her family's questionable background and we had a client murdered by one of our agents."

"Who did the murder?" Maxwell leaned forward with renewed interest.

"Someone I didn't know." Bertrand poured himself a cup of coffee. "It certainly made me rethink my policy of hiring from outside our social status."

After taking a sip, he launched into another rant of how this company had to succeed, that the world was watching and these people needed to be given a chance to prove they could be something other than their reputations.

Maxwell set the tub of ice cream down to search through a nearby cabinet. He came across a bottle of brandy that he figured couldn't hurt. He poured a healthy dose into Bertrand's coffee mug.

"What are you-Maxwell!" Bertrand scolded. "You might be able to flagrantly ignore the pressure we're under, but I--"

"Need to calm down." Maxwell finished for him.

"I can't be drunk on our first official day!" Bertrand argued.

"That teensy splash isn't going to do anything except help you relax." Maxwell pointed out.

Bertrand's jaw dropped when he saw the bottle.

"That's Courvoisier L’Esprit! Do you have any idea how expensive that bottle is?"

Maxwell shrugged. "So? You rented this whole place and all that comes with it. Enjoy it."

"I don't have the luxury of enjoying anything." Bertrand grumbled. "Much less indulging in spirits that costs nearly seven thousand dollars a bottle."

"Live a little." Maxwell patted his back. "It'll do you some good."

"Good? Like it did everyone here?" Bertrand snorted. "All I need to make this company falter is to show I'm no better than they are."

"So they've been caught doing a little bad behavior." Maxwell resumed his ice cream snack. "They're here now, ready to make things right. We'll help them. Word will spread how awesome we are. Badda bing badda boom: everyone wins!"

"Only you could make this sound easy." Bertrand mumbled as he sipped more of his spiked coffee.

"With our people working this, it'll be a piece of cake!" Maxwell exclaimed. "Just you wait and see."

**************

A few hours later, Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, was disabling a computerized lock of one of the suites on the tenth floor. With a satisfied click, the door opened without any further trouble.

Her nose wrinkled at the sight before her. The living room area had been completely trashed. The wet bar was littered with empty tequila bottles and strawberry margarita mixes. Lamps had been knocked over. Couch cushions were dirty from shoe prints. Clothes littered the floor and led the way past half eaten appetizers towards the master suite.

Not even bothering to knock and give warning to the occupants, she stormed into the bedroom and opened up the curtains.

There in the bed lay the client she was given. The sunlight revealed that the infamous musician was sandwiched between one of the resort's staff and one of the three Michelin chefs that worked in the kitchens. The two had the decency to sit up and mumble apologies while Raleigh Carrera casually stretched his naked body.

Olivia rolled her eyes at the sight before her.

"Out." She told his guests.

The two hastily left, swiping up their clothes along the way.

Raleigh groaned over the light and cracked one eye open to see what time it was.

He cursed when he saw that it was barely seven in the morning.

"Why are you in my room?" He grumbled.

"Why else?" Olivia replied. "You agreed to do this."

He rolled over on his back and took a deep breath before glancing her way.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"Olivia Nevrakis." She replied, not fazed at all by him being fully naked. "Duchess of Lythikos."

"Beaumont sent you here for what?" He muttered. "Torture?"

"Trust me, if this was torture," she smirked, "you wouldn't be talking right now."

He snorted as he rolled out of bed. Unabashed at her seeing him in all his glory, and secretly hoping it pissed her off, he walked towards her and paused a hair's breath away from her.

Holding her steady gaze, he reached behind her for one of the half empty tequila bottles.

His brow furrowed when she didn't react to his nearness. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he went past her to look out the window.

The morning light made him wince worse than the alcohol burning down his throat did.

"So?" He said. "I take it you're my shadow that Beaumont was talking about yesterday."

"Correct." Olivia pulled out her phone and began to scroll through some documents that had been sent over the night before. "And you're the PR Nightmare."

He snorted. "Nightmare, huh?" His smile grew hearing that. "I guess you could say that."

"Seems ridiculous to me." Olivia remarked. "Your drinking, carousing, and destruction of private property hardly seems worth my time."

"Giving up on me already, Red?" Raleigh teased. "And after your delightful wake-up call, I thought we'd be friends."

Olivia's chuckle had a cold edge that caught his attention. "Friends? No. I don't do friends with people like you."

His eyes narrowed upon her. "You got a problem with singers or tattooed people?"

"Neither." She replied. "In fact, I'm even slightly fond of someone who has a tattoo." Her own eyes raked dispassionately over him. "What I don't like is someone who rolls over and gives up."

"Gives up?" He threw his bottle down. "On what? What have I given up on?"

"From the few minutes I've been forced to endure your company, I would say self-respect." She shrugged. "I have very little patience as it is, so don't expect me to cheer you on during these next few weeks."

Olivia straightened her suit jacket, and walked out of his bedroom without a second glance.

Raleigh cursed as he chased after her.

"Wait a damn second!" He ordered. "What do you mean, I don't have any self-respect?" He gestured around his room. "What, just because I know how to throw a good party and enjoy life the way I want to; that gives off that I have no self-respect?"

"No." Olivia perched her hip on a table. "The fact that you allowed it to be the only thing you're known for proves you don't have any. Who cares what you do during your private time? You're the only one who has allowed this reputation to develop."

"Hold on!" He ran his hand through his tousled curls. "My former PR reps, the record label; they all demanded I date the new stars to help build up their reputations. I then was told to publicly break up with them and stage wild parties."

Olivia merely raised an eyebrow over that explanation.

"I don't need this shit!" He snapped at her. "Believe whatever the hell you like, but I do other things than screw starlets and trash rooms!"

She didn't even blink over him shouting that last bit.

A knock at his door had him swinging around in agitation to jerk it open.

Maxwell stood there with a camera propped up on his shoulder. His jaw dropped at the sight of the famous singer without a shred of clothing.

"Ummm." He cleared his throat. "I can...uh..."

He swallowed when Olivia appeared behind Raleigh's shoulder.

"Give us a few minutes." She ordered.

"A few minutes for what?" Raleigh griped. "I'm not going to participate in this bullshit another--"

The wind was knocked out of him when Olivia flipped him over her shoulder. He tried to breathe but lost the battle when she straddled his chest, pinned his arms down with her knees, and flipped a dagger in her hand so that the edge was right below his eye.

"Listen closely, because I will not repeat myself." She hissed.

Raleigh heard Maxwell breathe out, "Holy sh--" before Olivia kicked the door closed.

"You desperately need someone to right your image. Your label is already threatening to drop you. Your fans are sick of all the drama you do with fresh faced singers and actors." She told him.

Olivia leaned closer, her words dripping like venom.

"I personally don't care if you waste your life or not. You are nothing to me. You will never be worth my time." She paused. "But, I do have loyalty to the Beaumont's so I will improve your image."

She got off him, replaced her dagger in the strap above her thigh, and straightened her skirt.

"So here's how it is going to go." She informed him. "You're going to get off your hungover ass, get dressed for the camera, and do everything I tell you."

Her eyes narrowed upon him. "If you don't, then your little anonymous community centers in low income neighborhoods will cease to exist."

Raleigh shot up when he heard that.

"You know about those?"

Olivia slowly smiled. "Here's a helpful hint when dealing with me: I know everything before anyone else does."

She motioned towards his bedroom. "Go get dressed."

He got to his feet. "How did Beaumont find out about those? Nobody knows about that."

"Bertrand doesn't know. I conducted my own investigation on you like I do with everyone I interact with." She replied.

Raleigh blinked over that.

The last thing he wanted was for the kids in his old neighborhood to lose out on something to make their lives better. He had plans in place to build more of them across the United States. He couldn't let his true passion die now that he'd found it.

"You really think you can fix my image?" He asked.

"Of course I can." Her smile was full of smugness. "I never fail."

Raleigh took a deep breath and slowly released it. He knew he really didn't have a choice, which stung a bit. Still though, what did he have to lose by letting her try and repair his image? It was either going to work or it wasn't. Couldn't be much worse than what his other agents had attempted.

"Okay." He looked up at her. "I'll do it."

"Get dressed." Olivia ordered on her way to the door. "I'll tell Maxwell we'll be ready to film shortly.

"My nakedness bothering you, Red?" He teased to get a rile out of her.

"Hardly." She rolled her eyes.

"So you do like what you see?" He countered.

She eyed him, a hint of a genuine smile drifted across her lips.

"You're going to wish I did." With that, she stepped out of his room.

***************

A few minutes later, Bertrand joined Maxwell outside of Raleigh's suite.

"How's it going?" He asked.

"Well," Maxwell hedged. "It's, um, it's been an interesting start."

"Really?" Bertrand's excitement couldn't be contained. "Let me see what you have so far."

"Maybe you should wait." Maxwell countered. "I mean, I haven't got all the angles right and I should really get some more footage of--"

"Nonsense!" Bertrand snatched the camera out of his hands. "I've been sitting on pins and needles. I just know that..."

His eyes widened at the sight of Olivia throwing a naked Raleigh Carrera over her shoulder and straddling him.

"Good God!" He screeched. "What on-- why?"

"It's okay!" Maxwell quickly reassured him. "Olivia said Raleigh will be ready in a few minutes. We can--"

"I can't release this to the public!" Bertrand cried out. "We're ruined! Those few seconds of footage will shut us down faster than--"

"People are going to love this!" Maxwell argued.

"Yes. Voyeurs of the worst kind." Bertrand raked his hands through his hair. "No one will ever hire our company again after seeing one of our agents physically attacking a client."

He groaned as the realization struck him. "My nightmares have become true."

"But I think--"

They both became silent when Raleigh opened the door once again. He was clean, dressed in his usual rocker style, and actually had a pleasant smile on his face.

"Sorry for the wait." He jerked his head towards his room. "I'm ready when you are to start filming."

Bertrand' gaped at the man. "You are?"

"Yeah." Raleigh glanced back at Olivia. "Gotta do something to fix this, right?"

"Er, right." Bertrand cleared his throat. "Well then. Maxwell, don't keep the man waiting."

He pushed his brother into the room. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Bertrand forced a smile as Raleigh shut the door then sagged back against the opposite wall.

"Oh thank God." He whispered.

With this strangely auspicious start, he wondered how the other initial meetings were going.

[themysteriousauthor18]

PT. 1

1985 Louisiana New Orleans. The French Quarter.

“Good morning, New Orleans! My name is Alastor, and I’ll be your brand new host for this morning broadcast! We’ll be taking some calls later, but for now I’d like to play you one of my favorite songs. Please enjoy!”

An upbeat jazzy tune begins to play. A little outdated for the time period but hey, radio itself was pretty outdated.

The man crouching by the radio hums along to the tune. “Interesting.. He managed to do it.” He’d been hearing about Alastor a lot recently; an up-and-coming star in the radio industry. Only the age of 19, and he had already become a fan favorite.

            That singular thought in the man’s mind swept away as he closed his eyes, listening to the music. 

This man is Lucifer Morningstar. 

He is a young 18-year-old, and the heir to his family's fortune. Everything about his appearance screams privileged. He has short blonde hair that’s always gelled back, his white skin hadn’t a blemish on it; smooth as a newborn's skin. His amber eyes are soft, relaxed. His body’s dressed to the nines in a collection of gold and white. Although right now, in place of the full suit he’s shedded his overcoat to reveal the pink striped vest. Which is laying open. 

The music picks up a bit more. It had started off with upbeat piano, and now a blend of trumpets and saxophones were carrying the melody. An undertone of trombones added the bass, and soft drums kept the beat. A hint of clarinets top it off with the high notes. This goes on for a bit before a smooth yet fast-paced violin solo picks up the melody. Overall, it's a really fun song, considering it's from a time period that was over sixty years ago. Everyone nowadays prefers rock.

 He pushes off the dresser the crimson radio is sitting on and begins to dance with himself around the large bedroom as the trumpets take over again. It's way too big - in his opinion - to even be a bedroom. I mean, who needs a room the size of a gas station? Hell, this place was like his own personal apartment. He had his bed, his bathroom, his balcony, his..

Okay, yeah…this is too much room. Like, waaaaay too much. 

But when the radio plays, the music seems to take up all the unnecessary space. He likes music, he likes swaying to it. He likes using all the extra room to needlessly dance around. It’s…fun. 

A loud bang suddenly comes from behind him and he flinches. The large wooden doors were thrown open so hard they hit the wall. Lucifer turns to find his doppelganger staring him down, his nose wrinkling at the upbeat jazzy music. “Turn that off.” He scolds. “You're supposed to be practicing ballroom dancing, not…that.” He gestured to Lucifer’s random twirling around the room that he was doing.

 Michael Morningstar. Lucifer's spitting image…no literally. They’re identical twins - well, except for their eye color. They look the exact same at a first glance aside from Michael having dark eyes as opposed to Lucifer's bright blue eyes. Everything else, however, is the same. Their jawlines, their facial structures, their body types…Truthfully, the only way anyone could tell them apart without paying close attention - if they were to cover their eyes, of course - is their mannerisms. 

Lucifer sighs, “come on, brother. My tutor isn’t even here. How am I supposed to practice without her?” 

Michael’s posture is perfect, while Lucifer is slouched at the shoulders. His hair is gelled back too, while Lucifer’s is sticking out in random directions now. “I don’t care.” He states. “You know what you're expected to do. Now do it.”

Lucifer walks to his brother, and without warning he grabs his hands and pulls them towards him. The loud jazzy music is still playing through his room. “Come on, brother,” Lucifer says joyfully with a bright smile. “Come dance with me, let's have a bit of fun!”

Michael rips his hands away at the word fun, like Lucifer just said something foul. Lucifer watches in dismay as Michael shrinks back to the doorway. “Just turn it off. You have to meet with our father soon anyway. Clean yourself up and meet me in the dining room.” 

There isn’t another word on the matter because Michael is already closing the door. It roars with a louder slam than expected as it closes and Lucifer stands there, defeated. From the radio, the jazzy song starts to slow; yet to Lucifer, it's far away now. He’d been cruelly ripped from whatever fantasy he was just in. Dejected, Lucifer walks over to the radio and quickly turns the knob, silencing the radio and thus the room. 

Michael is the brother the family wishes was their heir. He’s everything they could possibly want. Perfect posture, perfect actions, perfect teeth, perfect manners. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect everything. 

Then there was him.

Lucifer. 

The odd child to the Morningstars. The one that acts as a normal teen, all things considered. The one that likes to have fun, play pranks, sneak out with friends and go partying. While Michael preferred to attend the business meetings, Lucifer wanted to go out and party. Where Michael preferred classical music, Lucifer liked loud energetic jazz and some rock. Where Michael wanted to eat a high-class lobster dinner prepared by the finest chefs, Lucifer would gladly take a greasy burger from a diner, or hell, some macaroni and cheese with chicken strips.

The point here is that while they look practically the same, they couldn’t be more different. If Lucifer was being honest, he does wish Michael was the heir, and he knows Michael wants to be the heir, too. If they had the same eye color, he would gladly agree to switch places - hell, even identities with him - if it means he doesn't have to be forced to do all this boring stuff. That he doesn't have to put up a front, to pretend to be something he isn't. Deep down, Lucifer knows his father would probably have switched them too, given the choice. If not for their one - very clearly different - physical trait.

Maybe Lucifer could have gotten eye surgery or something when they were younger to change their eye colors. If that was even possible? Or maybe he could've worn color-changing contacts while out in public? That would've been much easier. 

           But now, he’s sure it was too late to try anything. They’re older, and the difference in their mannerisms are too noticeable to the public. The public even knew Lucifer as the oddball to the Morningstars. The one who's more kind to the lower class, more goofy. Whereas Michael was the colder of the two - all business, all work, and absolutely no play.

In all honesty, the only reason Lucifer was the heir was because of their birth. They were twins, but Lucifer had been the first out of his mother’s womb. They were the only children of their father, twin boys. And he was the oldest - if only by 5 minutes, but still the oldest. 

Lucifer sighs, deciding to stop wishing the gods above for a second chance at birth. And to take his time and let Michael go out first. Honestly, if he could go back in time to the day of his birth he’d tell his unborn self. There’s no rush. Really. Being the first born sucks! Just take your time, enjoy the scenery of uh…Anyway- don't rush kid! Really. Dont. He swore Michael was practically pushing him to get out first anyway. He should have let him, if he was even conscious enough for that. Probably not he barely had a brain at birth. 

Lucifer groans loudly and shakes his head.

Okay no more stalling. He has to get cleaned up and meet his father in the dining hall. He knows there’s no way to get out of this position he’s literally born into. So he sucks it up and tries to make himself more presentable. Putting his white overcoat back on. 

…The halls of Lucifers ‘home’ are large. Towering above him. He’s always felt so small here. It doesn’t take him long to descend the spiraling stairs to the first floor of the mansion. And walk the Victorian styled halls. Their mansion and family came from old money. The mansion being around for far longer than Lucifer and his generation. So the interior design was never designed for the time period they were in. Not compared to friends of his who had their own mansions. Ones that were far more bright and colorful. Compared to his own that always held a dark and dready feeling to it.

Lucifer side eyes a particular painting hanging on the wall as he makes his way into the main hall that leads to their front door. He stops walking, examining it. 

Its a portrait of his father in black and white. There hallway is lined with portraits of each of the house masters. Or as he likes to put it…whoever is currently in charge of their fortune. And right now, that was his father. 

He stares down the portrait. 

His father is sitting in a large armchair, his face is a stern look. He’s frowning and staring straight ahead at the camera. His blonde hair is gelled back with wing tips at the earlobe. Lucifer is disturbed by how much he looks like his father, the only different is the that his father looks older. He has wrinkles under his eyes and frown lines around his mouth. But the portrait was painted when his father was only twenty. When he took over the house. 

Lucifer doesn’t deny the truth.  That the portrait is his future. That the man sitting in that chair will be him very soon. He’s eighteen and he knows whatever freedom he has, it's quickly drying up. He frowns, debating for a moment weather or not he could find some happiness in such a future. If he could truly be that kind of person. If he even had it in him. 

He shakes his head, freeing the thoughts of his mind. He briskly turns on his heel and walks down the hall to the dining room at a brisk pace. When Lucifer gets to the door he desperately pushes down the rising energy trying to push its way through his body. Urging his legs to turn and run. He doesn’t. He’s learn not to.

Pushing the door open welcomes that same loud and foreboding creak it always does with these old doors. Lucifer’s eyes immediately find the three bodies sitting at the table as he entered the large dining room. The fireplace is lit - even though its much to warm for it - and its warm glow is flickering off of the man at the head of the table. Dark shadows dances across his wrinkled and sunken face. His dark eyes hold no warmth and they find Lucifer immediately. Already looking at him with annoyance. A lecture on his tongue.

“You're late.” 

He was only a minute late. 

“I’m sorry father.” Lucifer apologies anyway. 

He and his brother are practically the spitting image of their father. Their faces just softer than their old mans. And were they have that bright blonde their fathers hair has already fully grayed. Something not uncommon for the head of their family. Its due to stress, Lucifer believes. For his father isn’t old enough to have full gray hair. But its something he doesn’t need nor have the time to ponder on. 

His father demands him to sit without saying it. Lucifer is already in his chair. When he’s had a moment to catch his breath he finally looks at the other two in the room. 

One is an older white man with dark short hair thats a comb-over. He has a small mustache and he’s a little on the heavier side. Beside him his a young woman appearing to be around his age. Or at least that’s his guess. She shares the same colored hair to her - presumably father? - her face is soft. Round. Her hair is long and delicately styled into a french braid. Her eyes are green but they aren’t particularly bright. She’s wearing a white dress, and sitting with perfect posture. 

His father doesn’t wait a second. “Lucifer this is Mr. Caleb. And his daughter, Eve,” He gestures to them. 

Eve holds her hand out expectantly. “It’s lovely to meet you.” 

Lucifer - trained like a dog - rises out of his seat long enough to take Eve’s hand and press a polite kiss to her knuckles. 

“The pleasure is all mine madam.” He returns, trying not to cringe as the insensirity between them. “And you as well sir.” He says, reaching out for a handshake from Mr. Caleb who returns it quickly. His hand is weak compared to the older mans. But it seems to suffice. He sits back down promptly. 

With pleasantries out of the way Lucifer’s father continues. “Lucifer, you are not engaged to Eve.” He says it so matter of factly that Lucifer barely registers it. His father doesn’t wait, simply going on. “You two will have a proper wedding in two months from now. You will begin making public appearances next week together.” He pauses, gestures to Eve and adds “she will grace you with her company from now until the wedding. That is understood I presume.”

Lucifer hopes the panic doesn’t show on his face. “Yes father.” 

That's the end of their discussion. Nothing more and nothing less. That’s the way of things in the morningstar manor. 

… 

…The next few weeks go by as you would expect. Lucifer is essentially ordered to spend time with Eve. He doesn’t mind it all that much. Eve isn’t annoying or rude. He’s just…not sure how to act around her. Their first meeting (alone) went about as well as he could hope.

They’re meeting in his family's garden now. A large lush area (and probably the once place he liked on the property). It was the one thing on their property that had color to it. In his opinion. It was a large space with a gate around it. The perimeter is filled with rose bushes. The interior is paved with trees, a fountain and smaller bushes. There’s a brick path leading around the garden and at the center is a gazebo. Where Eve waited. 

When Lucifer steps into the gazebo she looks at him. She’s wearing white again, so is he. It seems they are always matching. He’s not sure if that's on purpose or an accident. “Hello, Lucifer.” She says and he feels…weird, at how robotic she sounds. 

He walks over and takes her hand, giving her that same greeting he had when they first met. “Hello Eve. Lovely to see you again.” He looks up at her, hand loosely in his. She stares at him and he stares back, trying to examine her face. She looks flat. Her expression that is. Like a blank slate. 

He takes his hand away and takes a step back. Feeling weird about being so close to her. But when he looks at the greenier around them she continues to stare at him. Keeping her hands on her lap. Lucifer’s outfit is a little lighter today. He’s just wearing a white vest and short-sleeved button up. He needed his skin to breathe a little. But now he feels a little too exposed. 

To say things were awkward between them was an understatement. For Lucifer at least. “Sooo…what do you like to do?” Lucifer isn’t sure when he started tapping his foot. But he is. 

“Whatever my father permits me to do, I enjoy.” Was what Eve chose to say. 

Lucifer frowns, rubs his nape. Its sweaty. “Do you like to wear the white a lot?” 

“My father says it's elegant. So I do.” 

Lucifer begins to walk around the interior of the gazebo. Tapping his fingers on the railings. Eve never seems to move much, just observing him. He pauses, looks at her then gets an idea. “Hey!” She does the most expressive thing so far, raising her brow. 

“Yes?”

Lucifer walks a little closer. “Do you wanna go get some food or something? I know this great pizza place! It’s kinda down near the slums…Buuut their pizza is really great. And if he throw on some disguises nobody will-”

“I’m not interested in such activities.” She says pointedly. But politely. It doesn’t have the same bite as his fathers words do when he refuses something. But it does have that same implied message. We are rich. We don’t associate with the lower class. 

“Oh…okay.” Lucifer deflated a little. He pauses, “then what do you wanna talk about?” 

Eve ponders the question, then says “Only what’s necessary.” 

All of their interactions after that were the same. Lucifer doesn't enjoy the feeling he gets when around Eve. She wasn’t a bad person herself. But he noticed whenever they were together, compared to her, he felt like…well like a child. He offered to go out and do fun things. Pizza, parties, dancing - the fun kind, not the boring ballroom dancing with poise and proper etiquette. But every time he suggested anything of that sort she would always promptly - yet politely - turn him down. Saying it wasn’t something they should be doing. Because they were high class people and they shouldn’t do such things as having fun…Okay maybe she didn’t say exactly that but he knew she meant it.

So while he tried to enjoy the time spent with Eve, he didn’t. He tried to watch her, examine her. Figure out what she was thinking. But she was impossible to read. So one day he simply asked, “do you even wanna marry me?” 

Eve’s always calm face falters for once, and she frowns. Something in her eyes becomes a little more distant. Her reaction throws him off a little and makes him think, maybe she isn’t a robot. 

“It's what my father wants.” Is what she tells him.

When she said that, he had added “do you even like me? Or like being around me?” 

She looks at him then, and thinks about his question..for once. “You're pleasant company to be around,” is the simple answer she gives. He takes that as her not liking him in a romantic way, but at least considering him a friend. At least that's what he sees it as. 

He isn’t offended, he is relieved honestly. Because truth be told, he didn’t like her either. Not romantically at least. She was fine to be around. And while it was super boring he had been around worse people. She wasn’t bad, she was just quiet and doing what she was told. He was fine being friends but he couldn’t consider there to be any chemistry between them. She was too mature, too…all business and no fun. She’d already grown up. And he was still a child. 

He felt worse because he knew deep down it didn’t matter how he felt. They had less than a month by the time he realized he could never love her. And further realized that a marriage between them would be more like a play they were forced to put on for the rest of their lives. He dreaded it honestly. It felt like he walked into a much larger cage. It was just now, he had a cellmate. 

By the time their wedding was two weeks away Lucifer had given up all hope of finding happiness in his future. He had spoken to his friends about it. And while Bee and Ozzy suggested he just marry her and do secret dating on the side he knew he couldn’t. Even if Eve agreed to it. Not for the fact of cheating, because they weren’t together. It was an act, so he knew she wouldn’t care. It was more for the sake of whatever person he chose. If he fell in love he wanted to share a life with them. One that was out in the open, not hidden away behind closed doors.  That was no way to live. And it would only add more stress to him. 

His friends understood when he told them this. They were freer than him. Don't bond too these old money rules of marrying people your parents chose for you. He envied them, he really did. 

His friends felt bad for him, and so it was for this reason they decided to whisk Lucifer away one night. Tangled style. Except in reverse. They came to his window and he threw a rope down, tying it down with something and shimming down the wall and out of his ‘palace’. And off the three of them went, him Ozzy and Bee. They took him to a night club down in the lower class area. Those were the best according to Bee. They knew how to have fun. Lucifer had gone with some kind of disguise wearing a brown wig (that Bee got him) and instead of his usual white that he was so known for. He was wearing black. He meshed well with the dark lights of the club.

So it was here he found himself, two weeks before the wedding. At a nightclub one night. Sneaking out to meet up with his friends Bee and Ozzy weren’t uncommon. But it has been more difficult recently because of the upcoming marriage. He wondered if he would ever be able to do these kinds of things after the marriage.  The club was owned by his friend Bee. And this one was located in more of the lower class area. The nightclub was noisy, crowded with people that all melted into white noise of endless conversations and chatter. 

It's dark - obviously - and multicolored lights light up the club. There’s a dance floor all lit up with a rainbow pattern bouncing around, that's where Bee and Ozzy are right now. Or last he saw them at least. As for Lucifer himself, he’s standing at a high table, leaning his elbows on it. The public in general aren’t really his thing, he’s never good at being social. He always comes off more awkward than he wants too but Bee and Ozzy always make him more relaxed. But tonight he can’t calm down no matter what he does. 

“Woo!” Lucifer jumps at the loud - although familiar - voice behind him. He peers over his shoulder and looks up, and up and up and upppp. Until he finds Ozzie behind him. He’s stretching, “damn they are killin’ it on the dance floor tonight.” Ozmodious is a bulky built black man who is very tall. His hair is braided into short dreads that came down to his earlobes, the tips were dyed blue and what looked like the beginning of a beard was starting to grow around his mouth and jaw. Although as intimidating as Ozzie looked, he was actually very laid back and the chillest man Lucifer knew. 

“Hey Lucy,” he said, swinging an arm around him. Nearly squeezing him half the deaf, he manages to lift him an inch off the ground - not on purpose - In his hug.

“Hey Ozzy-” Lucifer all but wheezes. 

Ozzy loosens his grip on the lord's shoulders. “You sure you dont wanna join me and Bee on the dance floor?” He pauses, inspecting Lucifer’s face. How it scrunches up slightly. “Or maybe go somewhere else? After All this is supposed to be your night.” Your last night of freedom. The truth goes unspoken.

Lucifer for his part offers a smile, it was in no way convincing but he tries anyway. “No, I’m okay, but thank you.” He has to raise his voice a little over the blaring music and crowd. 

Ozzy frowns, “are you sure?” He says loudly. Also talking over the music, it's a bass heavy song. 

“Yeah.” Lucifer maintains his smile. He’s used to it from all the public appearances over the course of his life. “Go have fun. I’m just gonna hang here and keep on drinkin!” He holds up his martini glass. It’s a pink fruity looking drink with an umbrella in it. Some would argue it's emasculating to drink something so pink but he doesn’t care, he can’t stand the more bitter alcohols he’s expected to drink at gatherings. Besides, he likes pink. It meshes well with his usual white wardrobe.

Ozzy shrugs,” if you say so. But if you need us you know where we at.” With that Ozzy walks off leaving Lucifer to his drink.

He keeps his smile up until Ozzy melts back into the crowd and he lets it fall. 

He turns his eyes back to his martini glass. And studies the pink liquid inside. This is his…5th? 6th? Glass? He’s lost track honestly. And while he’s not as out of it as he wants to be his senses are certainly dulled. His movements feel more sluggish. The music doesn’t feel so close anymore. He prefers it this way. Even though in the back of his mind, he knows he’s an easy target. 

Lucifer lazily traces his index along the rim of his glass, his eyes fall lidded and he frowns. There’s a part of his mind that whispers, like a temptress. That he doesn’t have to go back, he could run away tonight. Run away somewhere far were nobody knows his name. Its…an appealing thought. But only to someone half drunk and well on their way to being wasted. And he knows that while it’s an appealing thought now, it would probably come back to bite a somber him in the ass. So he ignores such an intrusive thought. 

He sighs, and pours the entire glass down his throat. It tingles and burns only a little but it's sweet. He sets it down on the table with a heavy clink. Great…his distraction is now in his stomach and well on its way to his brain. Now what? 

As if on cue, something snatches his buzzing mind away from his empty glass. Lucifer looks up hearing the loud cheers that manage to cut through the booming music. Was someone being murdered? Would they consider shanking him too? No? Too bad. 

  Thankfully nobody is being killed, rather it's just a small crowd around a table. They’re honestly too close to him. Being just a few feet away at another table. With their shoving and bumping he fears they might shove him too. With all the commotion he can’t help but see what the fuss is about. He doesn’t have to look far. The woman dancing on top of the table isn’t exactly hard to miss, even amongst the sea of people in the club. She’s the only person doing that he notices.

Lucifer stares at her.

She’s a tall slender white woman, her body is thin and curved all to viewable for the public through her form fitting black dress. That has an open back - all the way down to her waist, and cuts off at the mid-thighs. She’s dancing to the bass of the music - her long, waist-length hair swaying with every movement. Her hips move as if they are the ones producing the music coming out of the club. Her hair is long, blonde and her lips are coated in a black lipstick. Her eyelids are colored in a dark purple coating. 

The beat bounces and she bounces with it the crowd below her cheers.

It's definitely erotic. But she also dances in such a way that feels so…freeing. So, carefree. 

Someone hands her a drink, and she swallows it effortlessly before tossing the glass back to the stranger who catches it barely. She rolls her spine along to the rhythm, throwing her head back. Her hair falls through the air like an ocean wave. 

Lucifer is transfixed on her. 

She looks over at him, and their eyes meet for the briefest of moments. Shame rises in him,having been caught staring at her and he immediately looks away. His face burns. Ah what was he doing staring at some random stranger? He’s probably creeping her out. 

Lucifer suddenly feels an arm entrap his shoulders and at first he assumes it's Ozzy. But when he looks up he yelps at the sudden face alarmingly close to him. He backs up, stumbles. It's the woman, and she’s chuckling at his reaction. 

Lucifer catches his breath, she came over to him? Why?

Now that she’s closer though, he can tell she’s taller than him. Not by much but definitely taller. He doesn’t mind it. The base of the music burst to life once again threatening to pierce his eardrums. But it's as if he can feel the hammering beat of the base in his chest, as the woman walks close to him. He’s unsure of what she wants, what she wants to do. He doesn’t even know her name. 

He just can’t help but watch her. 

She moves so freely even just walking towards him. Never letting the music not move her body. She reaches out and grabs his arm and tugs him close. Lucifer for some reason, lets her. His pulse is climbing. It's racing. 

She drags him along and he doesn’t quite know what's going on, just that she shoves him into a nearby chair. And she’s letting the music take over her again. She’s dancing above him, her hands pressed against his shoulders, keeping him pressed into the back of the chair. Once she’s; sure he’s not going to move - how can he, really? - she takes her hands back and cocks her hips in a hypnotizing motion to the thundering beat of the music. Lucifer's eyes are dragged to her hour-glass like figure. Her hands continue moving across her large thighs, up into a dainty curved waist. She tries her hands over her thighs, up over his hips. Lucifer’s eyes follow. Her hands travel inward over her breast over the neckline and they shoot up over her head. 

Lucifer breath hitches in his throat.

            She’s…

“You're beautiful.” 

The woman looks at him, amused and a bit perturbed. She laughs. It’s a glorious sound, it's light and jovial. She leans into his space, placing her hands on either side of his chair. “What was that handsome?” She speaks. God she speaks and her voice is like that of an angel. It's low and silky smooth; it's like a goddess tempting him to do sinful things.

Christ he must be drunker than he thought if just one sentence from a stranger is enough to have his tongue tied.

“I-I said you're beautiful.” He stutters out, making his voice louder. She smiles - it looks like an honest smile. 

“Thank you. You're hot.” She bluntly states. Lucifer turns into a tomato and she laughs again. “And cute. For being Lucifer Morningstar.”

His brows raise, “you know who I am?” The brief instance of his name rather than being referred to as ‘my lord’ throws him off a little. But he doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

“Of course.” She says. “And the rumors were right, you're a lot nicer in person.” 

Lucifer flashes red for a whole other reason now. “What's your name?” He calls over the rising music. 

She looks surprised at the question. “Lilith.” But she leans closer to him, their chests almost pressed together. If he had been more sober the public display of…whatever this was probably would have put him off. But right now? His mind was too focused on the goddess who was now on his lap. 

“You're really pretty Lilith.” He giggled, fuck he is drunk. 

She smirked, eyes lidded.

Without so much as a warning or hint Lilith leans forward and captures Lucifer’s lips in hers. His eyes grow wide. And there’s a part of his mind that tells him it's not a good idea. But he immediately shuts that part down. He’s going to be throwing away his life soon. So he doesn’t care right now. Eve wouldn’t care. They aren’t married yet and it's not like she even likes nor cares about him.

Still his heart races because…

Well as pathetic as it is this is the first time he’d been kissed.

But his brain doesn’t focus on that, because Lilith is a good kisser. She takes control of his lips, abusing them with a practiced pace. She truly is a siren, for she gets his lips apart and slips her tongue in like a serpent. Their tongues wrestle for a moment, and it's a losing fight against the expert that Lilith is. Her tongue tastes like alcohol and it mixes with the sweeter alcohol he had been drinking. It tastes like heaven. 

His fingers twitch and something burns in him. Aching for more.

Lilith pulls back too soon in his opinion. But she doesn’t go far, keeping their faces close. She looks at him then, their faces inches apart. Her eyes look almost gold under the club lights but he thinks they are actually green? He’s not sure. He looks at her, her face is curved, her eyes narrowed and beautiful. Her hair long and waving freely, her dress leaving little to the imagination. But it restates the fact that she is pretty. “Wanna go somewhere private?” 

Lucifer eyes shoot wide open. “Uh-” his face burns and he glances around for his friends. He knows full well what she’s asking. He’s not an idiot after all. But… “I-I dunno. Uh…” He rubs his neck. He peers back at her. She’s waiting, and she’s tilting her head ever so slightly. 

“Don’t be scared.” She cooes, trailing a finger along his chest.

Lucifer frowns and raises a brow, “are you a hooker or something?” He doesn’t mean to sound rude. It's an honest question and one his mind has worked up to after seeing the way she dances around the club. Was this her ploy to get a session out of him? Seeing him as a dollar sign?

Lilith looks offended though, just a bit. “What?” She scoffs, “no. I have more class than those bitches.” She says waving her hand about. She leans back then, hands on her hips. “I just like to have fun!” She says with a wide proud grin.

Lucifer raises his brows, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend. I-I just thought…” he trails off.

Lilith eyes him, standing straight up, above him. Towering over him. The club lights bathe her in a blend of different colors. The white light behind illuminates her figure. “You're hot. I’m not trying to get money out of you. I just think you're hot. I wanna fuck you.” 

She says it so…so bluntly. Lucifer is so taken aback at her boldness. God nobody has ever spoken to him like that. Besides Bee and Ozzy but…not even to this extent. He should be offended..but…

“So you wanna take this somewhere else?” She says, slipping into that sultrier voice once more. She leans down to his level, so she doesn’t have to be so loud. “Wanna see what's under these clothes?” She says, dragging a hand down her dress. 

Lucifer eyes her figure…it's nice but he looks up at her. At her face. At that mischievous sparkle in her eyes. 

How could he be insulted by such a bold, confident and beautiful woman? 

“Sure..” He replied; his voice is dazed and husky. 

They go to a nearby motel and Lucifer isn’t sure if he should be alarmed or surprised that Lilith already has a room in the run down place. With his mind both buzzing from the alcohol and an erection below his belt that was begging for attention, his mind decides he doesn’t care.

…Lucifer is pushed onto the bed. 

Lilith isn’t in any way shy or timid. She’s definitely done this sort of thing before. - Which makes Lucifer feel a bit bothered, but that's a thought for sober him. - She unbuttons his shirt with practiced effort. Their pace isn’t by any means slow. It’s fast and impatient. Which for a drunken aroused Lucifer? Is perfectly fine with him. In minutes she’s unfastening his belt and pulling his pants down before Lucifer can properly enjoy any of it. There is a sliver of his mind that feels embarrassed and nervous. But it's quickly washed away when Lilith strips her dress and undergarments off without any shame. Lucifer is still marveled by her confidence. And in that moment he stares at her like she truly is a goddess kneeling above him. 

“Wow…” He mutters dreamily. 

Lilith smiles and chuckles. It seems to be a genuine laugh. “Shh.” She says, pressing a finger to his lips. “Relax.” He does. “Goodboy.”

Lucifer flushes.

There are no more words spoken between them after that.

  …Lucifer honestly taps out after fifteen minutes, - which Lilith doesn’t seem to mind for she has her ways to get him started again - but the next hour goes by with him in a haze. He doesn’t remember when he falls asleep. But he does with him and Lilith on the hotel bed naked.

When he wakes…he doesn’t remember how he got where he is. Because he’s sitting on a park bench and immediately looks down, to find himself - thankfully - dressed. But he’s dressed more casually, dressed in a way he would prefer. Just a simple button down and slacks. He looks up, seeing a little girl swinging on monkey bars. Her face is blurred for him but he can tell at the very least she’s a child. With long blonde hair. He watches her for a moment and sees her hand begin to slip, he stands ready to go and catch this girl, but someone beats him to it. 

A man who he hadn’t even noticed was there shoots up from his seat and runs to catch the girl just in time. His hair is a bright and noticeable red. But he can’t make out his facial features either. Maybe that's her dad, he assumes at least. The man holds the girl in one of his arms and they share a laugh. They pause and turn to look directly at Lucifer, he still can’t make out their faces. But he can’t deny a blooming warmth flooding his chest. He’s never felt it before but one word cuts through his mind, clear as day.

Happy. 

He suddenly wakes up, his eyes flashing open into the darkness of the room. His heart is hammering and he takes a minute to breathe in. He feels his heart slow, into steady beats. He registers Liliths soft breaths and sighs. 

That was a weird dream. He thinks. 

His attention goes back to the sleeping woman. Lilith.. How beautiful she is. Even sleeping. 

Lucifer waits for her to wake. Maybe he's smitten, or maybe it's because she took his virginity. But he feels waiting is the right thing to do. When Lilith does wake it's almost morning. And Lucifer knows he could get in trouble. But to see her surprised expression when she finds him waiting beside her with some coffee from the motel lobby. It's worth it. 

Lucifer asks to see her again. To keep seeing her. Until he's to be married again. Much to his surprise, she says yes. It's enough to make Lucifer feel light as air. With that agreement he stumbles out of the room, smelling of booze and sex. Looking like it too. But he has no time left and has to get home. 

Lucks on his side because he makes it home before his disappearance is noticed. It's.. Sad, actually. But he's to happy and hungover to care. He calls his friends when he's able to let them know he's safe. They naturally both want details which he would provide. 

Time goes on, Lucifer and Lilith do meet up again. But sparingly. What with still being ordered to spend time with Eve. But what little time he does get to spend with Lilith - undercover - is usually under the cover of night and a blessing. 

Much to Lucifers dismay his snap fantasy life comes to an end. With the day of his wedding creeping up on him like death itself, he has to bid Lilith goodbye. Unsure and unwilling to keep pursuing whatever it is they have under in secret. 

So the day of his wedding comes. With the girl he wished was Lilith. Maybe he's crazy for having that thought. He probably is. But it's a pointless thought nonetheless. He knows his place, and he’s aware that the short time he had with Lilith was nothing more than a break from his reality. So here he stands, before Eve in her white wedding gown. Her face no less changing than the day they’d met. Stoic and calm as usual. So unlike Lilith’s bright and expressive face. He can’t help but compare the two not, even though he shouldn’t. 

The wedding is what would be expected of the morningstars. Its lavish and fancy. Set in a large park well taken care of. A park the rich frequent most often, but today is reserved for this occasion. The guests are not only consisting of Lucifer and Eve’s respective family members. But the other hundred people in the crowd are friends of the morningstars. Friends of his father. Bee and Ozzy are among them. But they aren’t as excited for this wedding like Lucifer’s father is. Excitement is actually…not the right word to describe his father in this circumstance. Eager is a better way to put it. He’s at the front row, sitting beside his mother. His arms are crossed. He has that same impatient look he always has on his face. Like the world is moving too slow for him.

Impatient.

That’s the right word to describe his father.

Lucifer looks back at Eve. He offers her a small smile, unsure why. Maybe to steady his own nerves. She returns the smile but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“We are gathered here today…” The priest begins. His words sound like he’s speaking underwater, to Lucifer at least. As he goes on Lucifer can’t help but glance at the crowd again, he’s aware that he should be looking forward. But can’t help it with his nerves growing. He sees his twin in the front row too, beside his - eager - mother and he looks jealous. Of Eve? He doubts it. Of him finally proclaiming his position as the new head of the home? Likely. 

He catches Bee and Ozzy in the crowd, and they find his gaze. And both nod to him. It's a condolence. He knows. A sharp clearing of the throat from his father snaps Lucifer back to attention. A warning. 

“Samiel Morningstar. Do you take Eve to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward?” For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

.

Lucifer hesitates, he glances at his father. Who gives him an icy look. He lowers his brows and gives one curt nod. Lucifer swallows, he looks at Eve who as usual is stoic. “I…I do.” He says, stuttering a little. When he glances at his father again he looks annoyed, but satisfied. 

The priest turns to Eve. Repeating himself. 

Lucifer in that moment, takes those final seconds to lament on his life. This…wedding, this ceremony. It doesn’t feel like a celebration of love at all. As it should be. It feels like he is being sentenced to prison and he’s signing away his freedom that he had with those words. 

This is wrong, he thinks solemnly. A wedding should not be held to force two people together. Two people who hardly know each other muchless love each other. Because Lucifer is certain Eve does not love him nor has come to love him in the brief month they had been introduced and then pushed into this wedding. 

He looks at her.

He was naive. He was naive to what a real relationship required. Lilith opened his eyes to that at the very least. While what he and Lilith had was in no way a relationship, it felt far more real than whatever he and Eve were supposed to have. What he did with her, being intimate with her. He…he couldn’t, he couldn’t do that. Not with Eve. Not with someone who didn’t even look at him like he was wanted. Looked at him with that same empty stare his father had. Someone he felt no attraction towards. Lilith was a star that shines and shimmers so brilliantly. Eve was an empty husk of a person she could have been. He knew what was expected of him. But he’s failed to realize how heavy that burden would be until now.

Lucifer looks Eve in the eyes.

How can I ever have children with this woman? How can I ever try to love her? Someone Who looks at me with not an ounce of love or even a person in those eyes? 

A chill runs down his spine.

“I do.” He hears Eve say, and her words for the first time carry an ounce of trepidation. 

Something in him snaps. And he feels like that sliver of fear in her is what pushes him over the edge. 

“Then with the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” 

Lucifer's hands curl.

Don’t do it.

You’ll regret it.

He looks at Eve, her eyes hidden behind her veil. She’s defeated. She’s surrendered. 

“I can’t.” His thoughts come out of his mouth far too late for him to take it back. And his eyes blow wide as a gasp rushes over the crowd like a wave. 

Dread pools in Lucifer, it's cold and frozen over. It's icy. 

He hears his father stand from his chair. “You will.” He states. That’s all he says.

Lucifer can feel his throat tightening. He can’t…HE CAN’T GODDAMMIT!

“No!” He shouts looking at his father who looks downright appalled. He’s shocked, registering what his son said to him. 

The crowd is deadly silent. Lucifer feels his heart in his ears. “No?” He repeats like he’s never been told that word. “No?!” He repeats once more like he’s never heard it. “You do what I tell you Samiel!” 

Something boils in Lucifer, in this second he thinks of Lilith. How free she is, how confident she is. He wants to be that confident. He wants to be free. Free with her. “I refuse! I don’t love her! And she doesn't love me! I won’t marry her.” 

His father growls “I gave you an order.” 

Lucifer stares his father down, every ounce of his body is screaming to stop. To get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. But no, not this time. “I refuse.” 

His father takes a step forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Lucifer. He could see the red rising in his cheeks. “You listen to me right now Samiel or you are OUT of this family!” 

Lucifer swallows. He looks at his mother, who is staring at him with a pleading look. At his brother, who seems satisfied. Happy. At his father, the seething man looking his usually well composure at a wedding. Then at Eve.

She’s frowning, she looks…sad. She is looking at the floor. He feels for her, but he can’t free her. Only she can, But he won’t be her captor, and he can’t remain a prisoner himself any longer. He wonders, if his mother wanted him. His brother. If that was a willing choice, or one his father pressed on her. He can’t imagine she did, when he looks at them. 

Lucifer sighs, and says calmly “then I guess I’m done here.” 

Its all he says. As he walks down the aisle, alone. 

Eve is at the alter, a look of pure shock on her face. The strongest display of emotions she’s ever displayed. Lucifer wishes her best, hopes she can break free from her own shackles one day. 

His father is screaming at this point. The angriest he’s ever been with him. He’s swearing, cursing, telling him all the things he is. How broken he is how wrong he is what a failure he is. 

But Lucifer keeps walking. 

He doesn’t even get to say goodbye to his mother, or his brother. But he wishes them best, knowing that with him gone his brother will get his place. Its for the best. He never wanted it in the first place. 

He refuses to live his life as someone he’s not. He refuses to end up like Eve, to become a shell of himself. He can’t do it. He might have, if not for her. 

As he walks the city streets, he slips the ring out of his pocket. The ring meant for Eve, the ring he managed to take before leaving. He’s young, he’s only eighteen. But he’s free, free to make his choices and maybe this is a stupid choice most would argue. But for him, its the only one that feels right.

He walks into the motel, and climbs the stairs to the room he’s memorized. The one she’s been living in. He knocks, and waits. When she opens the door, she is surprised to find him there. “Hi.” She greets, “weren’t you supposed to be getting married?” She asks confused.

Lucifer is still in his white tux. 

He looks at Lilith like she’s something to be worshipped, the smile that breaks onto his face isn’t forced. Isn’t fake. Its never with her. “Wanna do something crazy?” He asks her instead, with a grin threaneing to slip his lips.

She raises her brow. 

Lucifer pulls the ring from his pocket, and he kneels before her. Lilith eyes blow wide. Lucifer simply says with hope in his eyes. “Wanna get married?” 

He’s crazy. He’s known her less than a month, He is absolutely nuts. He knows that. But he also just swore off a lifetime of fortune and his family. But they had never given off the same warmth Lilith had. A stranger. 

Lilith laughs. “Sure, why not.” 

Lucifer grins, she grins. 

They are both insane, surely they both must be insane. Right? 

It doesn’t matter…not to Lucifer. 

All that matters to him is that he’s finally gotten to make his own choice for once. And he chooses Lilith. Maybe there’s a chance at being happy for him afterall.