#oc: seven wheels

[askafterlife]

The colorwheel challenge is perfect for my universe where most of my characters are designed close to the monochrome area! You can find in this drawing all the current Overlord along with the main character and one tertiary character since I didn't have an important yellow character at the creation of this drawing. Red: Aroth, Wrath's Overlord Orange: Solstar, Greed's Overlord Yellow: Abigail, an acquaintance of Solstar Greed: Loda, Gluttony's Overlord Light Blue: Neru, Pride's Overlord Blue: Basil, main character Purple: Echo, Sloth's Overlord Pink: Aelaris, Lust's Overlord Grey: Jasper, Envy's Overlord. Fun fact, I almost forgot him, again

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[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Eight

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Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven

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A/N: I think I went too hard on this, but I also feel like it wasn't enough. I really wanted to play around with dialogue more. I was going to have the Bats hit Smalltown in this, but I think it would be best if the confrontation(s) had it's own chapter. Let me know what y'all think!

A/N: This is my longest writing yet. Just a heads up. Hope that's all good!

Warnings: Yandere themes, alluded murder, platonic bed sharing, OC usage.

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The way the raindrops on the windshield seemed to chase each other didn't even registered to you as your heart continues to palpitate in your chest. Your hands shaking on the steering wheel as the numbers on the mile markers continued to change, and they weren't growing any steadier with each passing one. The way the excitement to gyrated inside your chest as the old truck continued on the patch-work road made you feel lightheaded. Not in a bad way, but in a way you could get addicted to.

It didn't stop the nausea curdling in your stomach, but you chalk that up to this being your first true act of rebellion. Even if you felt it was justified. It wasn't like they were going to chase after you, though. They had made their priorities clear. Clear as Gotham's smog filled skies. You weren't going to allow yourself to waste away in that manor filled with more secrets than people when there was a life outside of it that you had once been a part of.

It wasn't until you were certain a full day had past that the storm had finally dissipated, both over Gotham and over your mind. The trepidation in your belly at long last fading into a sense serenity. Even if it was only a fleeting thing. Water rarely stays still for long when the storm comes.

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Back in Gotham the family had finally dragged their bone-weary selves back to the cave. Some collapsing in the nearest got. Some dragging themselves upstairs for their comfort of their bed. But, surprisingly, it's Damian that drags himself to your room. The past two days had worn him down and he just wanted his sibling, even if it meant disturbing them. Even if they were mad at him.

It doesn't register to him that your bed is empty. That some of your things are missing. He crawls under the covers and curls into the pillow like a temperamental cat. Resting his eyes temporarily he says. You're his sibling, you shouldn't mind. (He had heard you laughing on the phone about how your other little brother used to do this on occasion. He wants to know what that’s like)

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As everyone rest their heads back home, unaware that the worse was yet to come even after the lighting had passed, you start to turn down familiar roads. Roads you had memorized every bump of once. The roads that lead you towards a home you had missed and things you used to know.

There's a few new bumps and pot holes that you don't recognize, but you're too excited to see them as the warnings they were.

As you pull into the driveway of Nana and Grand Daddy's house, you can see Nana standing outside. Waving for you in front of the two-story bedroom house Daddy had designed and built for them years ago. The place was well cared for despite the creaky steps on the front porch that you had spent many hot summers on. Blowing snow across the yard to keep cool.

When you finally park the truck and hop out Nana's already rushing towards you with surprising speed for her old age. Already your arms are opening for her when she suddenly scoops you up and locks you in an tight embrace.

"I missed you." You mumble into her shoulder. Trying to fight back a few tears as the scent of her bitter perfume fills your nose.

"I missed you more. We all missed you more, sugarplum." You hear the gravel in her voice as she gives you one last squeeze. Holding you so tight that for a moment you feel you can't breath. But, before you need to gasp for air, she pulls back slightly. Her aged brown eyes looking you over appraisingly. "You sure ya' don't wanna rest up a bit? You look thin, sweetpea."

A soft noise escapes your lips in a puff.

"I'm sure. Still too wired from the drive." You reply as you wipe those few stray tears that somehow trickled down your cheeks. Your best efforts to keep them contained failing.

Everything around you feels different. It's home, but there's something about it that is different. The smells are the same, the sights are the same, even the sounds are the same. But, you chalk it up to the way the Gotham air still clings to your skin and the silence of the manor that has left your ears sensitive to the slightest shifts in change.

"I… I kinda feel bad about leaving how I did." Comes your immediate confession as she continues to hold you like you're made of soft gold.

Even if it seemed unnecessary to say, it felt nice just to blurt out how you were feeling to someone who actually listened. Besides, Nana had always made you tell her what was bothering you if there ever was something. It was a habit to tell her things by now.

"Leaving Gotham, I mean…. running away in the night without warning, Nana."

"Nonsense, baby." Already she's brushing your cheek and trying to soothe the worry and fear. Holding your face between her hands so all you can focus on is her.

"You ain't done not a thing wrong. They was being unreasonable. Besides, you can just call them later and tell them your alright." For a moment, you feel like she's lecturing you. Like she used to when you where little. About being safe and staying near her at all times when you went out into town with her. But, now you're grown and she still does it.

"Are you sure, Nana? Because I know You, and Momma, and Daddy used to get on to me about asking permission before doin' things-"

"Ah-ah," She irrupts your before you could finish, "This is one of those incidents where it's better to ask for forgiveness, I promise. Besides, I know you asked first. Not your fault they was being unreasonable. Not your fault at all, baby." Nana's voice going from stern to a soft coo as she starts to lead the way into the old house.

You take a breath of the place, smelling the seasonal candles that you usually had lit this time of year. Noting the slight changes in decor. Projects that Nana probably had Grand Daddy completing while you were gone. There's even more pictures on the walls. Some more of Momma and Daddy, and even more of you. Nana had even printed out the ones you had sent her on your phone while you where in Gotham.

It was nice she missed you so much that she made you the center piece of the picture gallery, but still it felt odd. You had been hoping to see more pictures of your brother, Jean Luke. To actually see what memories he had made without you. But, you don't comment. You just head towards the kitchen. Sitting in your usual spot at the counter to continue talking with her.

You can smell her cooking. Nana really wasn't the best cook, but she went all out making a few of your favorite dishes with as much effort as she could muster out of her bones.

"So, how's Lukie been doing?" You mean to start conversationally, but your tone drifts to sounding more concern when the reminder about the lack of pictures on the wall crosses your mind and the thought that maybe he actually hasn't been coping well since you’ve been gone pops into your head as well. "I know what he tells me. That he's doin' fine when we’re on the phone, but how is he actually doing, Nana?"

"He's doing better." She replies while checking the oven, a slight sigh in her voice. She caught your tone of concern. "Still misses your Momma and Daddy. Bless. But, he's doing better. He'll probably feel ever better now that your back." She gives you a grin before sliding you a cutting board and a knife.

Already you fall into step, peeling and chopping the things she hand you.

"I'm not actually back, back." You mention, biting your lip when you catch her freeze.

"What you mean, baby?" Her soft voice doesn't match her tense shoulders. The lines on her face growing taunt.

"Well, it's just I kinda feel bad about how I left things with Bruce and 'em. And, I still gotta finish high school." You start to explain. It is true. You had a whole day to try to think about your actions. Getting out of Gotham had helped you process your feelings about the place. You still didn't like Gotham, but you'd been told all your life that family was important. You just didn't know that the family that had told you that wanted you to put them before all others.

"Oh, baby, you won't be needing none of that. Besides this is where you belong. We need you here. Them city folks just don't understand you, baby." You're about to protest when she continues on just before your lips could part to speak.

"Besides, Tanner's really been missin' you. He about turned himself into a frog when Mae showed him a picture of you in that pretty little outfit she made for ya’. The boy about croaked." Nana gives you that meddlesome look you knew to well. The one she gave you when she spoke about her church friend's grandson's. The one that always made you bush.

It was a clever distraction, and not at all a lie. Nana had watched Tanner turn green with envy at the sight of you in that dress and with your date. And, he about sang when he heard about your date's death right after. The town all had to forcefully stop him from driving back to Gotham to just to comfort you.

"Nana, you're being silly again. He don't like me like that." You brush off the flush with practiced easy, giving her a stern look of your own.

"Things change, baby. You're grown now. Everything's gonna be different, but just the same." She muttered that last part so low you could hardly hear it. Just as your about to question that statement, she changes topic once more.

"Now, you wanna stay we me and your Grand Daddy tonight?" The question stunning you for a second. You hadn't even thought about where you were going to stay when you started your way back here. But, the longing creeps back into your chest once more.

"Actually, I want to stay at the old house. I- I miss my own bed." You once again find yourself confessing, though it goes much deeper than that. Nana likes it when you let her see even surface level things, usually she's able to draw the proper conclusions from them. However, this time Nana tenses for the briefest moment, but then relaxes almost instantly after. You nearly miss it.

"Of course, baby. Of course. Take Lukie with you. It'd do him some good and I'd hate for you to be alone all up in there. The loneliness might get to ya." She seemed to place a bit too much emphasis on bringing your brother with you. But, you weren't going to complain.

After all, "It already got to me, Nana. It already got to me." You whisper to yourself before letting Nana regale you with all the latest town gossip.

It's not long until you're making plans to help set up for your brother's and by extension your own birthday tomorrow. Happily chatting away until Grand Daddy and Jean-Luke walk in the door.

Instantly, receiving a soft kiss on the forehead from Grand Daddy along with a tight grip on your shoulders and a firm, "Missed you, sugarplum." Before he slowly lets you free to help Nana and quite speaking to her.

You turn to your brother, little Jean-Luc, and reach for him with the swiftness of a breeze. He seems to hesitate before returning your hug with an almost intense ferocity that strangely makes you think of your last hug with Dick. Like he doesn't want to let go. Like he's almost scared to let go.

You let him hold you a good long while, standing there in the kitchen. It should feel like a relief to hold him again. Yet, you have the sudden urge to carry him away. Something that makes the winds inside your chest tell you to flee. You mange to swallow it down, but not the tears. Those freely pour down your cheeks as you both whisper about how much you missed each other back and forth. You notice how oddly quite he is. It's easy to blame that on the grief you both still feel, but it's different.

Sitting at the table and enjoying the meal feels different. Everything is different. Including the way Jean-Luke grips your hand when you tell him your going to stay at the old house and how he can come if he wants.

You almost want to laugh at how fast he leaps into the front seat of the truck. The grin on his face the most genuine you've seen since you got here.

Driving up to the old house made you ache. A deep ache that you felt from you chest to your palms. The dirty from the buried grief you felt being disturbed. As you glanced at your little brother’s face, the one that looked so much like Momma’s, you could tell he felt it too. Which bothers you because he shouldn’t have had to bury his grief like you did yours.

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Back at the manor, in the short time it had been since Damian rested his head on your pillow. He noticed it was too still. You were always moving in the manor. Always breezing through the halls. Yet now things had gone still. Not just in your room, but through out the manor.

His green eyes had opened, and sharpened. You should be here resting with him. Where were you? He hadn't bothered to keep track of your belongings before, but some things felt out of place. After a brief scan of the room, he made his way towards the cave. His senses on high alert for you. Straining to overhear your usual chattering on the phone or your pattering feet on the carpeted halls.

But, there was nothing. Most everyone was asleep or dozing and the stillness bothered him. The cooling realization filled him with each step as he walked down into the cave.

Sitting at the computer, Bruce goes over the footage of the previous nights. The storm was suspicious, and the churning in his gut and the way his hair stood on end didn’t help those suspicions. But, when Damian had entered the cave, those suspicions went from whispers to screams.

"Damian, get everyone to the cave. Now."

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"Missing? What the hell do you mean missing?" Dick was the first to respond to the news, standing at attention and livid despite having recently been woken up by an anxious Damian. Well, as anxious as Damian would physically allow himself to be in front of anyone.

"Damian brought it to my attention and the truck is gone from the garage." Bruce replied. Normally, this would sound like his usual paranoia flaring, but no one questioned him this time. Just the grim look on his face and the way his shoulder's tensed let everyone know that this was a completely serious matter.

Exhaustion immediately melting form everyone as the mission suddenly shifted.

"Barbara, pull up the manor security cameras from the night first night of the storm."

She speedily rolled her chair over to the computer and started pulling up the footage. It was only because she had years to develop her self control that her fingers didn't shake as she typed on the keys.

I should have been watching them. I should have checked on them.

The footage begins to show the exact moment that their sweet sibling left their room with a large bag of their shoulder and a excited grin on their face.

Why are you smiling like that? Why are are you happy to be leaving them? Why are you leaving? Why are you leaving?

A million thoughts flash through each of their heads. All filled with variations of despair and worry. Those are quickly amplified when the camera video finally goes out due to the multiple lighting strikes that hit the manor and the generators.

"They left right when the manor's and cave's generator were hit." Tim jumps in into detective mode right away, not wanting to linger on the disparaging thoughts in his head. And, the budding anger in his chest for allowing this to happen. And, for you leaving them. Him.

"Why are their eyes glowing?" Duke points out, coming out of his head finally when his eyes catch the flicker of a glow on the screen. It was a blessing that the cameras were so state of the art.

"What?" That snaps everyone else out of their heads. All of them moving behind Barbara to see what he's talking about.

"Their eyes," He bends forward of the keys, lightly pressing his finger to where you face is on the high definition screen. "They're glowing."

"Babs…" Dick murmurs into her left ear, his eye's never leaving your frozen smiling face.

"On it." She nearly hisses right back. Fingers actually shaking this time as she zooms into your face and changes a few setting of the camera to see the light waves that were captured.

And, right there on the screen, was the hint illumination in those large eyes of yours.

"Holy shit, you're right." Stephanie is the first to speak. Stumbling back as she starts running a million different scenarios through her head. The other's following. Some still sitting enraged or worried about what this might possibly mean.

Possible hypothesises start being blurted out.

Mind Control?

Hypnosis?

Magic?

God, I hope not.

Aliens?

Even worse than the magic.

"Maybe someone from that town manipulated them?" Cassandra suddenly suggests, having silently watched the footage of you play over and over again. You looked excited, genuinely excited, and it broke her heart that you did. But, there was a part of her that was still hopeful. That maybe you left because you didn't know any better. Didn't realize how much they adored you. They'll fix that. They fix that as soon as they get you back.

"Was anything tampered with when that asshole dropped off the truck?" Jason grumbles while rubbing the bridge of his nose. Of course he is livid. You fucking left. Sure, he liked putting the fear of God into you and could even tell you were unhappy at times, but you're an idiot if you think it's safe out there. And, you need to come home. Fuck, he'll even apologize and make up for scaring you. Please, just come back.

"No." Tim knows this because he made sure to check. Bruce may not have wanted to touch the truck and forbid them from messing with it. But, that didn't stop Tim from snooping on you at the very least. He just wanted to pretend he was in your fondest memories. Only until he could help you make newer better ones.

"Maybe a drug? Some chemical compound?" Duke eventually suggest, praying it isn't so.

"We could run a test? Just to check." Already Barbara begins pulling up the programs necessary, while Tim sets up the lab equipment. Dick is already running up to your room to grab any strand of hair he can find that might have been left behind. And, maybe checking to see if they were all wrong and you really didn't leave them. Him.

"Run them all."

That draws everyone's attention back to Bruce. The man had been standing stoically in silence. Brooding in silence as his thoughts overwhelmed him.

You left him. You left because of him. This wasn't some disagreement on how he did things as Batman. This wasn't because you were trying to get back at him. You left him willing because of what he had done as your father. No one has ever willing left him like this before. Not his children. Not his parents. Not anyone he has ever allowed himself to actually care for. It makes him mad, but more than anything it makes him want to collapse in on himself. He won't. Obviously. But, he's going to bring you back home. He's going to fix his mistake while he has the chance and you will give him that chance.

"Bruce… That includes a DNA test."

"I said all of them."

"What?" It's Damian who finally speaks up. For the first time since he alerted the other's of your disappearance. "Why would you do that? It's unnecessary."

It's a betrayal, he thinks. Not on your part. You may be too soft and too kind and too fragile and too simple minded. But, he knows you’re his. He may have gotten over his obsession with the blood in his veins, but the blood in yours connects you to him in a way none of his other siblings can have. He doesn't even think to question it. Doesn't want to. And, for a moment, he feels utter betrayed by his sire for thinking to doubt it.

"Damian."

"NO. It is unnecessary." He doesn't glare, but the anger is plain on his face. How dare father question?

Regardless of what Damian wants, Bruce nods to Barbara and Tim when a downtrodden Dick reenters the cave with a hairbrush in hand. You really were gone.

"Do it."

"Father-"

"Damian. They are our family, regardless of the results."

Bruce will love you regardless. He did a DNA test all those years ago. He knows your his, but he needs to make sure your still his. That something didn't change you or take you from him.

For Damian it's a tense minute. He knows you'll be family. No matter the results. But, he wants to share something with you that only an exclusive few people on this Earth or in this life ever will.

"Fine."

After that, it's silence for the next forty-three minutes. The programs running on the BatComputer dinging softly as each one is completed. Barbara's fingers rub together as she watches each one.

Tim doesn't bother looking, too anxious to sit around and wait. Already, he is on a spare computer looking into God knows what. Whatever it is, the rest of them can tell it's about you. Just by seeing the way his pupils are blown wide and darting about his screen.

Dick stands tense. Normally he would move about. Pace or do something. But, it seems wrong right now. The discomfort in the stillness is nothing compared to his current distress at knowing you're gone.

Stephanie debates internally on ripping the spare computer away from Tim. Wanting to see what he's found on you. Wondering if he knows if you're alright or not. Wondering if he's just watching looped footage of you and not sharing.

Duke is thinking. Really, he's contemplating what's happening. This is going to spiral into something. He feels it. He might not be the most experienced or most trained, but he knows something is changing. And, for once, he's not scared of the idea. Mostly because he knows by the end of this you will be back home. They won't allow you to stay lost.

"DNA test shows their a match to you, Bruce. And, we compared them to your old test of them too. Still a match."

Damian nearly beams, but manages to hide his relief under a smug smile.

"I told you, father."

"I didn't doubt." And, it is true. He never doubted you were his. But, he is still searching for an explanation.

"No drugs. No anything in their system that would register, but-" Barbara stops when she notices the screen. The anomaly on it. The one test that triggered. A question being possibly answered from the result and a million more arising if true.

"Oh."

"What is it?" Jason breaks the silence that's once again gone over everyone. The sense of unease bubbling through them all.

"I ran their DNA through all the usual test, and there was one single positive one."

"Which one?"

"Meta gene. And…"

Oh.

"It's active."

"Son of a bitch."

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As your brother and you start getting settled in for the night in the old house, airing out the stale air, pretending the dusting isn't there, you wonder around a bit. Similar to how you would back at the manor. Only this time there's no historical paintings on the wall. Just pictures of your own history laid out before you.

You'd never been more grateful for all the photos taken by you mother. All the times she would chase you down with a brush or comb in hand yelling at you, "You need to make sure you have nice hair for the picture. Or, the one's with terrible hair will be the one's that forever."

"But, what if I want them to last forever?" Your voice had been young and cheeky then.

"What if I just want them to last a little bit longer?" Now that voice was older and much more solemn.

Quickly, you shake the thought from your head. Setting your bag back in your old room for the night. A quick glance at the old space shows that someone's been in it recently. Probably your old friend Mae, judging by the amount of clothes spilling from your closet and dresser. She was always stuffing things in here for you. It makes you smile fondly to know that she missed you despite your phone calls early every day.

As you walk back down the hall, you find Jean-Luc standing outside your parent's old room.

"You wanna come with me to see them?"

"Yeah." The word soft, full of unshed grief as you both walk out to the back. There's an old live oak with Spanish moss out there, and two dead people that were loved and buried underneath it.

"Daddy always liked it when you made it rain when it was sunny out." Lukie whispers, recalling all the times you won the water-gun fights.

You remember the summer showers. The snowy Christmases. The way you used to blow the pollen away. The hurricanes you tamed. The tornadoes you saved the town from . The memories make causing the rain difficult. But, when you walk through the slightly overgrown grass towards the two stones the tears fall easy while the rain falls hard.

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"I pulled up all the weather patterns for that region and the theory is starting to look more factual by the second." Tim's already taken the helm, old weather radar scans on the screen. Files on Smalltown and it's people pulled up for display.

And, an entire screen dedicated to you. You. You. YoU. yOU. YOU? YOU

"So, it's confirmed they caused the storm. But, why?" It's Stephanie that asks while pacing back and forth next to the all of gear. Her worry and disbelief illuminated by the display lights.

"Princess was probably pissed." Jason says while cleaning his guns. The parts neatly laid out on the table while he shines and greases each piece. Twice. Thrice. Over and Over.

"But, why?" Dick is finally in motion, tapping his foot as impatiently. He knows they need all the information and a plan before they can get you back. But, the wait is straining him.

Barbara gives him a single look in reply. One that they've all shared often enough to know the meaning of.

"They hid it pretty well." Duke mushes. Strangely enough he's happy with this information. Everyone else in this family is technically a normal person, just with maxed out skill stats and trauma. Now, you two can both be normal childhood bros and meta buddies together.

"Cass, did you suspect anything?"

"I didn't ask." Which translates to, she knew, but didn't want to say anything that would drive you away. Seems kind of pointless now that you're gone, though.

The bitter silence reigns once more, before Tim speaks up.

"Incoming. The Asshole is getting a call from Nana." A few clicks and they're listening to the sound of your old childhood crush and your dearest Nana speak. The topic? You.

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That night you curled up with Jean-Luc in your parents old bed. Like you both used to when nightmares made cowards. You had to dig the old bedding out of the storage. The scent of the detergent Momma used to use faint on them. But, the two of you burrowed underneath the duvet like you were trying to hide from the world.

"How you feelin'?" You whisper to him, the room only illuminated by the stars in the window and the faint bathroom light.

"It's weird without Momma and Daddy. Everythin' is weird now and scary." He mutters in reply. He practically plants himself into your side.

"I know. I feel that way about it too."

"No, I mean… here. In town it's weird. Eveybody be actin' weird since you left." There's something in the way his voice shakes that makes you think he's not making this up

"What do you mean about everyone actin' weird, hun? I thought you were spendin' time with everyone. Nana said you were hanging out with Mae and Tanner. I know Mae is odd, but-"

"Nana's being weird too. And, Grand Daddy. She don't let me do nothin' fun at all these days. Says everything's to dangerous, and if somethin' happened to me you'd be upset." The child interrupts, sounding remarkably like his age with his complaints. But the low sound of his voice sounds less like mutterings and more like a cautious whisper.

"Well, that's cause Nana loves you. She don't want nothin' to happen to you, baby." You try to reassure him, as you've always done.

"But, she's always going on and on about you. She's almost as bad as Tanner." The way he says that name makes you pause. Tanner's been mention quiet a lot since you've been back. And, you've only been back for a couple of hours.

"Tanner's gone on about me?" You try to sound bashful, try to sound like its a compliment. But, the blush doesn't come.

"Yeah." Lukie practically roots himself into your chest where your heart is beginning to pound. "Always going on about you and the future and ranting about Gotham. He… he's kinda scary. I saw him and Grand Daddy a few months ago dragging something into the swamp. It looked… it looked about as long as a gator, but it wasn't a gator. It had clothes on."

"Baby, what do you think it was?" You somehow keep your voice steady as your arms wrap around him. Clinging to him and shielding him.

"I don't think I wanna remember. I just want everything to go back to normal."

After that, you let the wind outside the house howl. The way it blows through the trees with your fear keeps you up. Eventually you force the rain once again. Trying to lull Lukie-boy and yourself to sleep. For a brief moment, a flicker of a thought before you drift off into an uneasy slumber you think...

Should I have stayed?

And, your not certain if your talking about here or Gotham.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I'd say there's about two more parts of this left, then we'll be really focusing on Pregnant!Reader for a bit. Got a blurb list in the works for it and a few ideas. And, I really really really need to clean out my ask box. Oops.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Taglist

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[punkshort]

Evergreen | Chapter One: Denial

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Tommy encourages Joel to join bereavement group counseling, where he meets you. You connect over a similar loss and the common thread of loneliness, leading to something unexpected for you both.

Chapter Warnings: grief, angst, mentions of OC deaths, mild references to: suicide, self harm, drug use (none by reader or Joel), language, panic/anxiety attack (Joel), Joel POV

WC: 8.8K

A/N: I've been working on this goddamn series since May. Sorry it's taken me so long to get around to it but I am committing to a posting schedule now that it is almost complete and I appreciate you all for being so patient. Hope you enjoy tons of fluff and softness and angst.

Series Masterlist

Joel's hands gripped the steering wheel as he stared blankly at the faded brick building connected to the small, run down parking lot. He watched as the clock ticked down to six in the evening, and with each passing minute a new car parked nearby or someone walked through the double doors. He wasn't sure what he expected, but he was surprised to see people of all ages streaming inside.

Then he saw a young woman with two children, one in each hand, neither of which could have been over seven years old, walk inside with watery eyes and he dropped his gaze to his lap in shame.

Mia had been gone for nearly ten years. He had no business being there. His grief wasn't fresh. Over the years, he's learned to cope with it, to live alongside it. The people who were there that night needed the support.

Joel didn't need support. He was just lonely.

He reached for his key, still dangling in the ignition, when his phone rang. With a sigh, he patted down the front of his jeans until he located his phone, then lifted his hips off the worn seat with a grunt so he could fish it out.

"Yeah?"

"You better not be thinkin' 'bout leavin'."

Joel swiveled around in alarm, searching the parking lot for his brother's truck, but all he saw were the last few stragglers hurriedly walking up to the front doors, the anguish practically weighing them down as they moved.

"You watchin' me now?"

Tommy chuckled on the other end.

"Nah, I'm at home. I just know you."

Joel rolled his eyes as the clock ticked to 6:01 on the dash.

"This is stupid, Tommy."

"It ain't stupid. It's been almost ten years and you've never looked twice at another woman. You can tell me you've moved on or that you're fine, but I'm not buying your bullshit," Tommy said sternly on the other end. "I don't think you ever gave yourself a chance to process what happened and it's important you do that. For your mental health and all that."

"Maria tell you to say that?" Joel scoffed, but still unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.

"Maybe. Don't matter who said it, it's true."

"Fine. I'm walkin' in now, I'll call you later," Joel said, then hung up without waiting for a reply.

The building wasn't very big. From the lobby, Joel could hear a male's voice making what sounded like brief introductions as he strolled quickly down the hall. He rested his hand on the push bar and took a deep breath. Right as he was about to enter, he heard someone else's light footsteps jogging up behind him. He turned around as you approached, a little breathless and with a guilty smile.

"Oh, good, I'm not the only one who's late," you said, nodding towards the door.

"Uh, yeah," Joel said, clearing his throat softly, "we can share the heat," he joked, opening the door and stepping aside so you could walk through first. You shot him a grateful look and mouthed thank you before entering the room.

The group all turned their heads at the disruption, as expected, but the counselor waved them in with a warm smile.

"Welcome! Have a seat, we were just getting started."

Joel found the first empty chair he could, in the very last row closest to the door. You glanced around the room before sliding into the same row as him, just a few seats down.

"As I was saying, welcome to the grief and loss support group. I'm Dr. Harris, but please feel free to call me Ryan."

Ryan was young. Definitely under forty. Something about that irked Joel. He imagined this man going to school to learn how to be caring, how to listen and say all the right words at the right time so he could make a decent paycheck and call himself doctor while he went home to his wife and picket fence and his patients went home with a gaping hole in their hearts.

"There is no wrong way to grieve," Ryan was saying from the podium with a practiced look of solemnity. "All of you are here for different reasons. And while you may look around here and think nobody else could possibly understand what you are feeling, I am here to tell you that you are simply wrong." Ryan took a moment to let his words settle over the group before continuing. "We have all lost somebody in our lives. That is the common thread that weaves us all together. And I'm here to tell you to use it." Ryan clenched his fists for emphasis and Joel had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Lean on each other. Listen to one another. This is a safe space. Nobody will judge you here, no matter what you may think, everybody in this room is here for the same reason."

After what felt like an eternity, Ryan invited the people in the room to approach the podium to speak, no longer than ten minutes, he had said, reminding everyone that their time was limited and they always could speak again at the next meeting.

One by one, people trickled up to the front of the room. First it was an elderly woman who explained with tears in her eyes that her husband of forty years passed away a month ago.

"It sounds silly," she sniffled, "but it feels like I'm... untethered. Like I lost my connection to this world when he left and I'm scared I might just... float away."

Next was a man around Joel's age who visibly struggled to hold back his tears about his late sister.

"I just keep reminding myself I didn't cause it, I can't control it, can't undo it. I'm really mad at myself for not paying attention to the warning signs. She was struggling, y'know?" His glassy eyes addressed the group briefly before he cast his gaze back down. "The best thing I can do is try to rebuild. Don't let the anguish fester. Don't let it consume me. Because she wouldn't want that."

After that, a girl no older than twenty, arms and neck covered in tattoos walked to the front. "She was my best friend since we were eight. And I know it's my fault, I know it is," she choked out, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I gave her her first hit. I could see she was falling too deep into it and I didn't try to help her, I was too focused on my own shit and not seeing what was right in front of me. To this day, I can't look her mom in the eye-" the girl hung her head and took a moment to gather herself. Chairs squeaked as the group patiently waited for her to continue. "But I'm clean and sober almost six months now," she said with a watery smile. A small round of applause broke out amongst the group and she nodded her thanks. "I'm thinking about going to school for social work. Maybe I can honor her memory in some way."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you cross and uncross your legs nervously but made no move to walk to the front.

Same as him.

When the clock on the wall ticked closer to seven, Ryan addressed the group one final time.

"I'll stick around in case anybody wants to have a talk after group. Just a reminder that I'm only here once a week, but my esteemed colleague, Grace, runs another group on Tuesdays, so please feel free to stop by one or both. I also left some cards in the back next to the coffee. My information is on there if you would like a one on one appointment and on the back is the crisis hotline. Please take one, you never know when you may need it."

The room collectively seemed to stand, a murmur rippling through the group as people began to softly speak again, reaching out to neighbors, either introducing themselves or catching up from the last session. Joel scratched at his chin and looked around the room as people continued to filter around. Some paired off to grab coffee, some went to talk to Ryan, but Joel just stood there. All alone.

He took a deep breath and headed for the back, then lingered at the small stack of business cards Ryan had mentioned. He picked one up and flipped it over, studying it, when he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Excuse me," you said, and he swiveled around in surprise.

"Oh, sorry," he replied, stepping to the side so you could reach the coffee. He pretended to look at the card but watched as you filled up a cup. He waited for you to add cream or sugar but you didn't. You lifted the cup to your lips and took a tentative sip before recoiling at the heat and doing it again.

"That, uh, any good?"

Your eyes locked onto his and you shrugged. "'Bout what you'd expect."

He smiled and looked around the room, fidgeting with the edge of the card before sliding it into his pocket. "This your first session, too?"

You shook your head and stepped aside, a little closer to him, so others could get to the coffee. "I've been coming here almost two months."

That surprised Joel. Based on the way the rest of the group seemed familiar with each other, he had suspected the two of you were both new.

"Two months? Wow," Joel said, "how's it workin' out for you, if you don't mind my askin'?"

You sighed and gave him a little smile.

"Some days are better than others. But I figure it doesn't hurt, so..." you trailed off and crossed your arms, your fingertips tapping against the paper cup. "My mom begged me to come, so I did. I think it makes her believe she's helping in some way by pushing it and I grew tired of feeling like an emotional burden."

Joel frowned. "I'm sure that ain't true. No parent thinks their kid is an emotional burden."

You chuckled and drained the rest of your cup. "You'd be surprised." You tossed the cup into the trash before giving him a brighter smile. Although expressing your emotions was the entire reason you were there, you still felt uncomfortable doing it. "So this was your first time? What did you think?"

"Jury's still out," Joel replied honestly. "Promised my brother I would give it a try, same as you. My daughter just went off to college last month and I think he and his wife are worried 'bout me bein' all alone for the first time in, well... forever, I suppose." His lips pursed in thought for a moment. "Feels kinda like I don't belong here. My wife passed almost ten years ago. I've learned to live with it by now. It ain't as raw as all that-" he gestured up to the podium, referencing all the individuals who poured their hearts out for the past hour. Then he realized he was rambling and chuckled. "Sorry. Can't seem to shut up." He looked at you sheepishly and you smiled back.

"That's good. That's what you're supposed to do here," you assured him, then took a deep breath. "I lost my fiancé a year ago, so I can relate... kind of."

"I'm sorry," he said, furrowing his brow and examining your face. "You're so young, you shouldn't know what that feels like at your age."

"Not that young. I'm thirty-one," you joked. He laughed and rubbed his chin.

"Well I got twenty years on you, seems pretty young to me."

"You're fifty-one?" you asked, and he nodded. "You look good, I wouldn't have guessed a day over..." you trailed off as you studied his face and he grinned.

"Go ahead, be honest."

"Forty-three," you decided, and Joel laughed. When was the last time he felt this lighthearted?

"Well that's the nicest thing I've heard all week," he replied. The room began to thin out and you shifted your weight.

"Well, I guess I should get going," you told him, almost sounding regretful. Then you pinched your eyebrows together. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Joel," he said, sticking an arm out to shake your hand. You gave him a warm smile before telling him your name, your hand getting dwarfed by his thick, rough fingers.

"Will I see you next week, Joel?"

"Yeah," he replied, walking out with you and holding open the door. "I'll give it another chance."

"Good. I mean, you know, I'm glad you're giving it another chance," you found yourself inexplicably stumbling over your words and before your face began to heat up you veered off towards your car with a quick wave.

Joel's eyes trailed after you for a minute before he opened the door to his truck and climbed inside. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against his lower lip, lost in thought while he stared straight ahead at the emptying parking lot. Then you drove by in a higher end white SUV and he watched as you took a right turn out of the lot and disappeared down the road. He sighed and started his truck, realizing he was one of the last cars in the lot, and decided to stop at a fast food drive thru on the way home.

"Uncle Tommy told me you went to a grief support group the other day, how did it go?" Sarah asked him over FaceTime. He pushed the lever on his recliner and leaned back into the chair with a grunt.

"S'alright," he mumbled.

"Did you share anything?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"'Cause, baby girl, these people just lost someone close to 'em. I can't get up there and talk 'bout your mama, it's been so long-"

"That doesn't matter," she said, interrupting him. He could hear other kids in the background laughing but she remained focused on her screen. "I don't think you've ever really processed Mom's death and it's important to me that you try. I worry about you, old man," she teased, and Joel grinned.

"No need to worry 'bout me, I'm stayin' busy."

"Yeah, doing what? And don't tell me you're eating frozen meals and watching baseball because it'll break my heart."

Joel's eyes drifted to the empty plastic tray on the coffee table.

"No," he said gruffly. "Ain't baseball season. I'm watchin' basketball."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Dad," she whined, "what about your friends? The guys from work?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her they were busy with their families, with their wives, so he lied.

"Yeah, I'm gonna get together with Jimmy later this week. Gonna shoot some pool."

"That sounds great!" Sarah exclaimed, her face instantly brightening. Her eyes snapped up to someone behind her phone and she grinned, holding up one finger, then looked back at him. "Listen, Dad, I gotta run. I promised a few friends I would go to the football game with them."

"Oh, so you'll watch football with your friends and not me?" he teased, and she giggled. "Alright then, text me when you get back home safe."

"I will. I love you."

No matter how many times he heard it, those words always warmed his heart.

"Love you too, baby girl."

The call ended and he set his phone down with a sigh. Sarah was right. He couldn't waste away in his house all alone, waiting for her to come home to visit or for Tommy and Maria to come by for dinner. He needed to get a hobby. He glanced outside then looked at the time before turning off the television and pushing himself out of his recliner with a groan. He shuffled down the hall to his bedroom to change out of his old sweatpants and ratty tshirt, then snatched his keys off the kitchen counter and headed out to the driveway.

He drove aimlessly through town, his window down with his arm hanging out, soaking up the sun's rays. Kids were playing on the sidewalks and people were walking their dogs or pushing strollers. Everyone just seemed so... happy. Content.

Maybe he should get a dog.

Maybe he should start with a fish, first.

He jumped on the highway and cruised with one hand on the steering wheel. Hank Williams crooned from the radio and Joel took a deep, relaxing breath. He was coming up on the exit for the mall. Sarah loved dragging him to the mall. A smile played on his lips and he figured why not.

He veered off the highway and slowed when he approached the red light, the mall parking lot straight ahead. It didn't look terribly busy. With the weather as nice as it was, he imagined most people would be spending their time outside.

Joel found a good spot right out front. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and walked inside through the Macy's. A blast of freezing cold air conditioning hit him like a ton of bricks, cooling the sweat that was collecting on the back of his neck. He managed to make his way through the maze of the department store and entered the mall itself. There were a few groups of girls around Sarah's age giggling and carrying shopping bags and the random couple here or there walking into William Sonoma or Brookstone.

When he passed by the food court, he saw a few solitary older men sipping coffee and reading the paper or people watching. Joel huffed under his breath, wondering who on earth would come to the mall just to read a paper until he realized he was no better.

Was he going to become just like them one day? Would he come to the mall to nurse a coffee just so he wouldn't feel so alone? The thought had his throat closing up.

He paused and leaned against a railing overlooking the bottom floor of the mall, pretending to be looking for someone when in reality he was struggling to breathe. His heart was fluttering too fast in his chest and his vision was narrowing.

"Shit," he whispered to himself, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus on taking deep breaths. It was like reality crashed down around him all at once: Sarah was moved out of the house. Tommy was happily married. And Joel was going to die all alone.

He gasped and blinked, trying to clear his head and mentally talk himself down, but it was no use. He leaned forward a bit to rest his forehead on the cool, stainless steel railing but his knees began to buckle. Just when he thought he would need to stop someone and beg them to call an ambulance, he heard someone say his name, temporarily snapping him out of his daze.

"Are you okay?" you asked, the smile slipping from your face when you noticed how flush he looked. He could only manage to shake his head. Without hesitating, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him stand, then glanced around. Spotting an empty bench, you led him over and helped him sit. You rubbed your palm over his upper back soothingly and sat next to him, reminding him to breathe deeply until his vision cleared and he felt his strength return.

"Christ," he mumbled. He sat up and leaned back so the back of his head rested on the bench and stretched his long legs out. "Thank you," he added, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"No problem," you said, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Or, no. I don't know," he sighed, dropping his hand from his face. "I think it just hit me all at once."

You slid over on the bench to give him more room. "What hit you all at once?"

"That my little girl is growin' up and -" he stopped himself, the words and I'm all alone getting trapped in his throat. "And I just miss her, is all."

You slowly nodded and glanced around the mall. "What does she like?"

He smiled. "Clothes. Music. Makeup. Books."

"What kind of books?"

"The fantasy kind. Y'know, like Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter."

A huge grin spread across your face. "Follow me, I have an idea," you said, standing up and looking down at him before you realized you might have overstepped. "I mean, unless you're-"

"No, let's go," he replied, standing up and stretching out an arm for you to lead the way. He fell in step next to you as you led him down towards the other end of the mall and after a few minutes, he realized where you were leading him.

"The bookstore?"

"Yep," you said cheerily, shooting him a playful grin. "Trust me."

And he did.

"There's some really incredible series out there right now. Why don't we pick one out, you can read it and share it with her so you guys have something to do together from a distance? Do you know if she's read The Word of the Heir? That's by an incredibly talented author who actually got the idea when she was only seven years old," you told him excitedly, leading him deep into the bookstore, dodging tables and displays until you made it to the fantasy section. Joel slowed down and looked around, his panic attack slipping further and further from his mind.

"Uh, I ain't sure," he replied as you held up the book. You tucked it under your arm and began to look again.

"How about Empire of Kings? I haven't read that one but the author is relatively new and I've heard he's an extremely talented storyteller."

Joel shrugged, again unsure what Sarah may or may not have read. All of the titles sounded so foreign to him until his eyes landed on the spine of a thick, hardcover book.

"Oh, this one sounds familiar," he said, plucking it from the shelf. "The Crimson Stone. I think she wanted to read this but I don't think she ever finished it. It's a series-"

"Yeah, I know that one," you told him quietly. He glanced down at the book again and read the author's name.

"Daniel Davis, ain't this the guy who died in that bad wreck downtown?" Joel mumbled as he flipped the book over in his hands to read the back. You nodded. "Maybe I'll get this one."

"Don't waste your money, I can give it to you for free," you said, gently taking it from his hands. You ran your palm distractedly over the cover before flipping it open and looking at the tiny black and white photo of the author on the inside jacket. "This was my fiancé," you added, your voice thick. Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Shit," he mumbled. "I-I'm sorry, his name just sounded familiar, I remember it from the paper..." he trailed off, floundering for what to say to comfort you. Why couldn't he fucking think?

"It's okay," you told him, waving him off, but the guilt still laid heavy in his chest. "There's no way you would have known." You slowly closed the book, giving the picture one more glance, and handed it back to him. "But really, if you want to read them I have tons of copies just sitting around. He had a few other books outside of this series, as well, if you guys wanted them."

Joel's eyebrows knit together. "I don't wanna take your books. They gotta have sentimental value or somethin'."

"No, seriously, I have boxes of them just sitting there. He was in the middle of signing copies for readings he was supposed to do before-" you stopped yourself and cleared your throat. "Anyway. I can bring them to group next week or you can come by the house and look through them yourself if you like."

Joel nodded and nervously chewed the inside of his cheek. "Do you wanna talk 'bout it?"

You looked up at him then, all wide eyed and filled with so much sadness that it made his chest ache. No one so young and pretty should have to go through so much pain. Your eyes drifted over his face for a moment, quietly studying him before responding. "Yeah. I kind of do."

Joel looked over his shoulder and spotted the café across from the bookstore. "You wanna get a coffee and find a quiet bench or somethin'?"

"That sounds nice," you replied, so he put the books back on the shelf and walked out into the mall. He spotted a bench near an empty storefront and he told you to go have a seat with the promise of bringing you back something to drink. There wasn't a line at the counter. He couldn't imagine many people wanted coffee that late in the day, so it only took a few minutes before the barista slid the two cups of black coffee across the counter and he met you back at the bench.

"Black, right?"

You smiled and gingerly took the cup. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"From group the other day," he replied, then sat down with a grunt. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, each of you letting your coffees cool before you spoke.

"I usually don't talk about it. Every week I tell myself I'm gonna go up to that podium and pour my heart out and every week I chicken out."

Joel didn't say a word. He learned early on with Sarah when she was upset, she just wanted someone to listen to her. So that's exactly what he did. He sipped his coffee and just listened. And before you even realized it, you were telling him everything.

You began by telling him Daniel was from Austin but you met in Portland, where you grew up. For a while, the two of you tried doing a long-distance relationship, but once you were finished with school you took him up on the offer to move in with him in Texas. Shortly thereafter, he proposed and you had spent the last year of his life planning your dream wedding. The night of the accident, you had been touring a venue an hour outside the city. It was dark when you finished up and drove back home.

Daniel didn't do anything wrong. You insisted Joel knew that first.

A truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and ran a light, completely crushing the driver's side and killing Daniel instantly. Somehow, you had only come out of the accident with a small concussion and a badly bruised chest from the seatbelt.

"Jesus," Joel muttered when you exhaled a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, darlin'. That's some fucked up shit." His eyes widened and he straightened up in his seat. "Shit, sorry for cursin'... twice." He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably and a slow smile spread across your face. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you burst out laughing.

"Thank you," you said in between giggles. He grinned, confused but happy you were laughing and not crying. "I needed that. And you're right, it was some fucked up shit."

Joel chuckled and took a sip from his coffee. He heard his phone ring so he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen before silencing the call and putting his phone away.

"You can take it," you said, wiping a stray tear from your eye and jutting your chin towards his phone.

"Just my brother. I'll call him back later."

"Ah, the infamous brother that made you go to group?"

"The very same."

"Younger or older?"

"Younger, but the way he bosses me 'round you'd never know it," Joel said with a grin.

"He's probably just looking out for you."

"He knows I'm feelin' especially lonely without Sarah. Sarah's my daughter, by the way," he said, pulling his phone out and showing you his lock screen: it was a selfie of him and Sarah on the beach, Joel looked red as a lobster and Sarah's hair looked tangled from the wind but there was no denying the happiness in both their eyes.

"She's beautiful," you said warmly. He smiled and put his phone away.

"Got that from her mama."

"I don't know, I see a little bit of you in her smile," you teased, bumping up against his shoulder playfully. He rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

"What I'm tryin' to say is, I can relate a bit to what you're goin' through. Y'know, losin' a partner and feelin' like you got no one left," he said. You took a deep breath.

"Yeah, sounds like you do."

Joel nervously picked at his jeans, trying to figure out the right way to say what he wanted to say without sounding like an old creep, but before he could open his mouth, you spoke first.

"Maybe we can hang out together and keep each other company?" you offered. He turned his head and grinned.

"I was 'bout to suggest the same thing."

"Really?" you asked, looking as relieved as he felt. He nodded.

"Sounds like we both could use a friend."

Something in your expression shifted. It was too quick. He couldn't pinpoint it but whatever it was disappeared, leaving behind a genuine smile.

"I would really like that, Joel."

"What the hell? You couldn't call me back yesterday?" Tommy scolded when he marched into the small, messy office the following morning. Joel glanced up from behind his desk; papers, a calculator and a pencil scattered about in front of him. He took his reading glasses off with a sigh, abandoning his work. He hated doing the administrative part of his job. He always preferred to be on site or meeting with clients.

"I was busy."

"Busy?" Tommy repeated before collapsing in the worn out chair across from him.

"Yeah, busy. I was... with a friend," Joel mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant but Tommy's ears perked up.

"A friend? Who?"

Joel shrugged. "Someone I met at that group you made me go to."

Tommy's eyes lit up. "Hey, that's great. See? I knew it'd be good for you. What's his name?"

Joel pursed his lips before softly saying your name and Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"A woman? That's even better, Joel."

"It ain't like that-"

"'Course not," Tommy said, "I'm just sayin' it's a step in the right direction."

"She's too young," Joel said defensively, giving Tommy pause.

"Okay..."

"We're just friends. She ain't from 'round here, ain't got anyone in Texas."

Tommy frowned as he watched Joel shift uncomfortably in his chair, wondering what made his brother get so sensitive, so he chose to tread lightly.

"So you're keepin' each other company. That's nice."

"Yeah," Joel said, standing up with a grunt and rubbing his lower back before he snatched his coat from the wall. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," Tommy said, standing to follow Joel out of the office. While he locked the door behind him, Tommy couldn't help but ask, "How young is too young?"

"Thirty-one," Joel replied, fishing the keys out of his pocket.

Tommy shrugged, falling in step next to his brother as they walked towards the parking lot. "Sounds like an adult to me," he muttered, but Joel chose to ignore it. "When are you seein' her again?"

"End of the week," Joel replied before climbing into the truck.

"Friday?"

"Yeah, after work. We were gonna order some dinner and look through some books she's tryin' to get rid of."

The corner of Tommy's mouth twitched. "So, like a date?"

"It ain't a date," Joel said firmly, his jaw set as he pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive in the direction of the first worksite. "She's mourin' the loss of her husband, it's not a date."

"Husband?" Tommy repeated, then Joel shook his head, growing flustered.

"Fiancé. Not husband."

"When did he pass?"

Joel thought back to what you told him the night you first met. "A year ago."

Tommy hummed and looked out the window, tapping his fingers against the car door in rhythm with the beat from the radio. Joel side eyed him while they sat in silence for a few minutes before he rolled his eyes and sighed. "What?" Joel asked with an edge to his voice.

"A year's a long time, is all."

"She's in grief therapy, Tommy. She's in pain and tryin' to come to terms with it. Quit makin' it sound like somethin' it ain't."

"Just 'cause she's in grief therapy don't mean she ain't ready to move on-"

"Goddamnit, this is the last time I tell you anythin'," Joel grumbled as he made a left hand turn. Tommy hid a smile behind his hand and looked out the window.

"Alright, no need to get all defensive on me now."

Joel opened his mouth to argue but quickly snapped it shut. The more he pushed back just gave Tommy more ammunition. Besides, he knew the truth. You were looking for a friend, someone who could relate to what you were going through. There was absolutely no way you were interested in a man twenty years older than you. The thought was so absurd it almost made him laugh. You were young and beautiful and charming and you had your whole life ahead of you.

No, surely Tommy was wrong.

When Joel pulled up to your house, his eight year old truck the noisiest thing on the whole block, he let out a low whistle and threw it into park, deciding at the last second to keep his car on the street for fear of leaving an oil stain or something on your pristine concrete driveway. He sat in his truck for a moment, taking in the monumental Victorian house before him. He recognized it from his youth, but back then the siding was chipped and the windows were foggy, in desperate need of replacing. He always admired houses like yours and part of his heart broke whenever he saw one fall into such a state of disrepair that it was beyond saving, but not yours. No, at some point in the past ten years, the house was upgraded but managed to maintain the original charm.

There was fresh siding and new windows installed, the insides framed in what looked like delicate lace curtains, complimenting the style of the house. The roof looked like it had been replaced and the front door looked new, but the original architecture remained. He could easily tell whoever bought the house took great care with it, and the contractor in him breathed a sigh of relief that it didn't fall into the wrong hands, or god forbid, a flipper.

When he walked up your driveway towards the small stone path that led to your front door, he slowed to look at the garden that flourished in front of the wraparound porch. It was a beautiful mix of wildflowers and hedges, and while wildflowers had a tendency to look messy and unkept, you somehow managed to make it look neat and well put together. Fat, fuzzy bumblebees bounced drunkenly from flower to flower and as he climbed the wooden steps, a hummingbird buzzed past his ear, spooked by his presence.

He pressed the button to your doorbell, noting you chose not to install one of those camera doorbells and for some reason, that bothered him. Normally he wasn't a huge fan of technology, but you were all alone in this big house. You needed to be safe, to be careful. Your house was in a nice neighborhood, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

The door swung open and you greeted him barefoot with a warm smile before stepping aside to let him in. You were wearing a loose tshirt that hung off one shoulder and he chastised himself when his eyes traveled down your tight fitting jeans to your ass as he followed you into your home.

He shrugged his reaction off to just typical male instinct and forced his focus onto the lovely foyer surrounding him as he slid off his boots. Polished cherry wainscoting lined the walls and his eyes widened when he noticed the small tiles in the shape of little octagons below his feet.

"Is this original?" he asked you in disbelief as he pointed to the ground. Your gaze followed his finger and you nodded.

"We tried to keep everything original, if we could," you explained.

"Wow," he breathed as he stepped forward into the hallway, his eyes unable to keep up with how fast his brain was operating. His gaze slid over the original hardwood floors of the hallway, fresh wallpaper, and wide, polished staircase with a plush carpet installed in the center of the steps. Much to his delight, you chose to furnish the house to match the style, as well. Antique fixtures hung from the ceiling and a real wood table was pushed against the wall. A small lamp sat on top with a stained glass Tiffany shade, and next to it was a pile of mail and a framed photograph he tried not to examine too closely out of respect.

"This way," you said over your shoulder, and he followed you blindly deeper into the house. You pushed open a swinging door that led into your kitchen, and for the first time since arriving, his nose was the first of his senses to respond instead of his eyes.

It smelled absolutely heavenly. He had no idea what you were cooking but his mouth instantly watered at the smell of garlic and salt and some kind of meat.

He swallowed and hoped his stomach wouldn't growl and embarrass him.

"Thought we were gonna order somethin'?" he asked as he watched you hurry over to the stove to stir something.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I felt like cooking," you replied without looking. He glanced around the room, noticing you chose to update the counters and cabinets to look more modern, but kept the original flooring.

"Mind? Are you kiddin' me? Haven't had anythin' decent to eat since Sarah left for college."

Memories of fast food drive thrus and frozen dinners flashed before his eyes as he watched you turn off the burners on the stove. You opened a cupboard and stretched on your tiptoes to reach a bowl, the hem of your shirt riding up ever so slightly and revealing a small sliver of skin on your back and suddenly, his mouth was watering for an entirely different reason.

Stop it.

"Need some help?" he offered, and you fell back onto the flats of your feet, shooting him a nod and smile. He didn't mean to, but he reached up from behind you for the serving bowl, his front brushing gently against your back, and your shoulders tensed. Shit.

"Sorry, here ya go," he said, handing you the bowl and immediately giving you some space, not catching the glimmer of disappointment in your eyes.

"Thank you," you murmured shyly. He watched you spoon vegetables into the bowl for a moment, grabbing random jars of seasoning and sprinkling them on top before stirring it up, and he finally remembered his manners.

"Can I help?"

"No, no, I got it," you insisted, waving him toward a door on the other side of the kitchen. "Go sit down, I'll be right out."

He wandered over to the propped open door and entered your dining room. Pausing for a moment, he admired the chandelier above the table that looked old but the brass had been polished and the crystals cleaned. The drop ceiling was even remarkable: squares of textured patterns that repeated across the whole room, adding a whole other layer of elegance to the already impressive first floor. His eyes drifted to the dark wood table, where two spots were already set across from each other. He pulled out a chair and sat down, shifting his weight a bit and noting the chairs must have been recently reupholstered based on how firm the cushion was underneath him. You breezed in after him, hardly giving him enough time to take in the elaborate fireplace and mantle at the end of the room, and began to set down plates of food. His eyes bugged out of his head when he saw fresh, fried chicken and whipped mashed potatoes.

"You didn't have to go through all the trouble," he assured you, but you smirked at the way he stared at the chicken, the aroma from the breading overpowering his senses.

"It wasn't any trouble, I like to cook," you replied, disappearing into the kitchen to grab the vegetables and a basket of fresh rolls before finally joining him at the table.

Joel spread the cloth napkin over his lap, using every ounce of self control to stop himself from devouring everything in sight. He glanced up at you and you grinned.

"Go ahead, help yourself."

You watched with a small smile on your face as he loaded up his plate, then played with your own food until he took his first bite of chicken. He froze, his mouth full, and stared at you in awe before he dropped the chicken leg on his plate and leaned back, a deep, appreciative moan rumbling from his chest, making your thighs squeeze together under the table.

"Goddamn," he said once he swallowed. "That's the best fried chicken I've ever had in my entire life, darlin'."

You giggled and finally took a dainty bite of your own before nodding in agreement. "It's not bad."

Joel scoffed and took another bite. "Don't sell yourself short, now. I know what I'm talkin' 'bout. What'd you put in this?"

He listened, completely enraptured, as you explained how you soaked the chicken in buttermilk the day before and all of the seasonings you used in the breading.

"Oh! I almost forgot the lemonade," you said, standing back up and rushing into the kitchen, returning with two cold glasses and setting them down on the placemats. He nodded his thanks, mouth still full, and you giggled again.

You were already planning on packing up all the leftovers so he could take it home, but you still encouraged him to have as much as he wanted while it was warm and fresh.

"Did you make the rolls, too?" he asked after he took a bite.

You laughed and shook your head. "No, I'm not that good. I bought them this morning from a local bakery I like around the corner."

You had finished your meal long before he did, watching with your chin in your palm as he went back for seconds, reveling in the noises and compliments he made with practically each bite.

"Here, have some more," you told him, nudging the plate of chicken in his direction, but he leaned back in the chair and shook his head. "I can't, but everythin' was delicious. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm thrilled to cook for someone again," you replied with a sad smile before standing up and picking up your plate. He immediately stood and began to collect the rest, but you waved him back down.

"Sit, sit, I still have dessert," you told him, and based on the way he looked at you in that moment you would have put money down that he could be knocked over with a feather.

"Oh, darlin', you did too much," he replied, immediately flooding with guilt that he didn't even bring wine or flowers.

"Stop! I told you, I like doing it and I never get a chance to anymore, so please, sit down and I'll be right back."

Begrudgingly, he did as he was told and, while listening to you in the kitchen, peered out the back window at the meticulously kept grounds. Your house, like you, was absolutely beautiful. It felt like stumbling across an oasis in the middle of the desert.

You reappeared in the dining room with a bowl of diced, sugared strawberries and a plate of warm biscuits. He watched in stunned silence as you fixed him a plate, spooning the strawberries on top of a fresh shortcake, but told him to wait a moment before hurrying back into the kitchen and returning with a small bowl of homemade whipped cream.

Joel thought he died and went to heaven.

He could tell you didn't want to hear him complain that it was too much, so instead he lavished your baking with praise and thanks, both of which seemed to make your eyes shine bright and your lips remain curled into a smile the whole time.

"You're taking the leftovers home, too," you warned him once you finally allowed him to help bring things back into the kitchen. You were packing everything up nice and neat in matching Tupperware containers and stacking everything into a paper bag. As much as he wanted to decline, he really wanted your leftovers more, so he continued to thank you as he began to wash the dishes in your farmhouse sink. You had tried to fight him on it, but he finally wore you down and won. Stubborn little thing, he thought.

After dinner was cleaned up, you led him back down the hall and up the wide staircase, explaining that the books were all housed in a den at the top of the stairs, but when you opened the door to the room, den seemed like too small a word for it.

It was gorgeous, plain and simple. The cherry wainscoting continued in this room with a dark green wallpaper to accent the wood. All along the wall were antique sconces lighting up floor to ceiling bookcases stuffed full of literature. On the back wall was a large, heavy looking desk with a wingback velvet chair. The desk itself had books and papers scattered about, as if someone were in the middle of something and was rudely interrupted, but based on the layer of dust, he had to imagine nobody had sat there in some time.

And then it hit him: this was your fiancé's office.

A laptop sat open and turned off on the corner of the desk, along with a dusty printer behind the chair on the carpeted floor. He noticed what had to have been manuscripts of some kind based on the lack of coverings on the bound papers piling up next to the printer.

He was an author. This is where he worked.

That was when Joel realized you had been suspiciously quiet. He turned towards you, his eyes scanning your face, studying it. Your arms were wrapped around your middle as you stared blankly at the desk.

"We don't gotta do this today," he said softly, snapping you out of your reverie.

"No, it's okay," you replied, your voice so small it nearly broke his heart. You turned and walked toward the corner of the room, opposite the desk, where a small couch and coffee table sat. A few cardboard boxes were stacked nearby, two of which remained unopened, one recklessly torn into. You started with that one.

"Here," you said, pulling out a few books and handing them out. He stepped forward and took them, looking down at the covers and the beautiful artwork that adorned them. "These are the first trilogy, you should probably read them first before the next. They're different stories but they inevitably weave together so it'll make more sense if you-" you paused, your voice getting caught in your throat, and that's when he realized you had been fighting back tears.

"Hey, it's okay," he told you gently, putting the books down on the coffee table and carefully touching your shoulder, urging you to sit on the couch. After a moment's hesitation, you did, and he sat beside you. "This was too fast. I'll leave these here and maybe one day, when you're feelin' up to it, we can try again."

You looked up at him, eyes watering, and shook your head.

"No, take these now. I have more, I have tons, actually," you said, nodding towards the unopened boxes. "I just haven't come in here since he died and I didn't think it would be this hard." You wiped furiously at your cheeks, trying to hide your anguish.

Joel's heart thundered in his chest. He rubbed your back, trying to offer you a glimmer of comfort while he glanced around the room. "Maybe it was too soon," he offered again.

"No, it's been a year, Joel. I needed to do this." You took a deep breath and gave him a shaky smile. "Thank you. I know this is probably more than you expected-"

"Nah, hey, none of that, now," he cooed, mindlessly petting your hair. "If you needed someone to be here for this, I'm glad you picked me, okay?"

You sniffled and nodded, quietly thanking him again before taking another deep breath and exhaling with a nervous laugh as you looked around the room with him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"'Course," he replied.

"How long did it take for you to move on after your wife passed?"

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about it, his fingers still playing with the ends of your soft hair as he slowly rubbed your back. "Well, hard to say. She was sick for a long time so I think I had time to come to terms with it before she died, y'know?" You nodded and listened to him, hanging on his every word and inadvertently leaning into his gentle touch. "Then I had Sarah to worry 'bout and, I don't know, time just... passed me by." He chuckled dryly for a moment before continuing. "My brother thinks I never got over it, Sarah thinks I never processed it, but they only think that 'cause I never dated anyone else."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his confession.

"Never?"

He shook his head and gave you a lopsided grin. "Been busy, I guess."

"But aren't you... lonely?"

He sucked in a sharp breath and cast his gaze to the floor. How did you manage to see right through him so quickly? Was it the common ground or something else?

"Wasn't too bad til Sarah left," he admitted, "but now... yeah. Yeah, it's lonely."

You scanned his face, watching the flicker of sadness in his eyes he tried to hide from you, and you inched a bit closer.

"I'm glad we found each other, Joel," you whispered. His eyes found yours again and he smiled.

"Me, too, sweetheart."

Then, without giving it another thought, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips. It was so tender and soft it felt like he was on the bus in fifth grade and Christine Murphy was giving him his fist kiss all over again while kids in nearby seats teased them with sing-song voices.

You pulled back and looked into his eyes, searching for any hesitation but all you must have seen was confusion because you leaned forward again, kissing him with a little more emotion, your small hand coming up to cup his greying, prickly jaw. You tasted like strawberries and lemonade and you smelled like vanilla and it was making every neuron in his brain fire all at the same time, to the point where his body had no idea what to do but remain frozen.

It was when your tongue first slipped past your lips and flicked nervously over the seam of his mouth that he finally came crashing down to earth. He sat back, breaking the kiss and holding you by the shoulders, staring deeply into your eyes. You were both panting slightly, probably from the excitement and adrenaline, as he tried to figure out what to say, what to do. You were in a fragile state, he decided. You made a mistake, the moment got away from you both and it didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. You were too young and sweet and beautiful. You didn't really want anything to do with an old man like him. He just happened to be there when you were vulnerable and that was all.

The words never came. He couldn't form a coherent sentence. As the seconds dragged on, your face began to fall and embarrassment flooded your chest, the atmosphere in the room suddenly so thick that it was difficult to breathe. You cleared your throat and leaned back, his hands falling from your shoulders, and then you were the first to speak.

"Oh, no."

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[mypearlsareclutched]

High By The Beach (Ongoing)

Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character, Modern!Aegon II x Original Female Character

Stoic and serious Aemond Targaryen and ex-party girl Mila Stark, a match made in heaven. Until Aemond breaks her heart and sends her back to the needle. Forced back to rehab, Mila never expected to find help in the form of Aemond's delinquent older brother, Aegon...

Hi all, first fanfic on this account! There will be multiple chapters. Let me know what you think, this is a work in progress.

CW+TW// Descriptions of addictions (alcoholism, drugs, sex addictions), sexual content (MDNI, 18+), angst, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, Viserys Targaryen being a deadbeat dad, grooming, brushes with death, infidelity, Larys Strong warning, found family trope, rehab, OC is a Stark, will update as the series progresses <3

Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey

Prologue | Look at You, Looking at Me

Chapter One | Loving You is Hard

Chapter Two | Being Here is Harder

Chapter Three | You Take the Wheel

Chapter Four | I Don't Wanna Do This Anymore

Chapter Five | It's So Surreal

Chapter Six | I Can't Survive

Chapter Seven | If This is All That's Real

Chapter Eight | I Know You Don't Understand

Chapter Nine | You're Just Another One of My Problems

Chapter Ten | Because You Got Out Of Hand

Chapter Eleven | We're Sinking into the Sand

Chapter Twelve | I'll Do It On My Own

Chapter Thirteen | Anyone Can Start Again

Chapter Fourteen | Not Through Love, But Through Revenge

Chapter Fifteen | Through The Fire, We're Born Again

Chapter Sixteen | Peace by Vengeance, Brings the End

Epilogue | All I Want To Do Is Get...

[mitsuyeaah]

UNDIVIDED ATTENTION

SANZU HARUCHIYO x f! reader

“said he got a lot of cash, darling, he can’t buy my love. it’s you i’m dreaming of.”

cw: chauffeur! sanzu, ex-delinquent! sanzu, wealthy! reader, m! OC (briefly), modern au, age gap (haru is 27 & reader is 23), slight mutual pining, angst, fluff, smut mdni (intoxicated consensual sex), nsfw, virginity loss, forbidden love, swearing, mention of scars, mention of drugs, use of weed, pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl), lazily proofread (sorry in advance).

word count: 13.8k i'm so sorry

a/n: here's a little treat before my break ends! hope you guys enjoy! also, i don’t know when i’ll write something long again but we shall see :") © divider: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

The smell of expensive leather mixed with the cologne your chauffeur wore filled your lungs as you sank back into the plush leather of the backseat of your vehicle. The lights outside dimly lit the quiet car, you stared out the window, observing the tall buildings that almost touched the clouds and billboards that surrounded the bustling city.

People were out and about, some dressed up–for what you presumed to be for the club–getting ready to start the night, some were hastily walking out of their work buildings, their IDs swaying around their neck with every step they took. You would never know what it felt like to spend your Friday night dressing up for the club, instead, you related more to the latter group of people. 

It was another stressful day at work, meetings followed after one another. It also didn’t help that more projects were handed over to you because you were ‘going to be the next successor of this company’ as per your father’s words. You let out a sigh and rested your head on the head rest, closing your eyes and letting the music and soft hum of the car engulf you.

“Sanzu?” you broke the comfortable silence, your chauffeur briefly looked at you from the rear mirror before focusing back on the road ahead of him, your eyes were still closed, “Yes, Miss?” he quietly replied.

“I don’t want to go home yet…” you muttered, placing an arm over your eyes, as if it would somehow erase all your problems. He nodded, even though you couldn’t see him and replied, “Understood.” Sanzu knew what you meant by that, he’s only been your chauffeur for 3 months, but he’s memorized every single one of your demands, no matter how vague they are.

In this case, you wanted to drop by a specific park where you spent most of your childhood playing. He knew that you went there every single time you were stressed or upset about something, Sanzu knew because he’s been driving you to this park countless times in a span of 3 months, and those times, you were always either stressed or upset.

He muttered a silent ‘we’re here’ as he turned off the engine, Sanzu held onto the wheel with his left hand and slightly turned his body to face you. You removed your arm from your eyes and let out a soft sigh as you stepped out of the vehicle, you were met with the crisp winter evening air, slightly shivering as it made contact with your warm skin.

You made your way over to the wooden bench you always sat on, it overlooked the grassy fields and the now leafless trees surrounding the place. Sanzu followed you wordlessly, at this point, he already knew what to do and it was basically routine for him.

You didn’t mind having your chauffeur by your side as you mulled over your thoughts, in fact, it was your initial idea to have him sit with you.

You didn’t expect anything from him but his mere presence, and he also didn’t mind sitting there, there was no awkward tension at all. After all, you’ve done this so many times in the past. Sanzu sat next to you, leaving an appropriate space in between and neatly folding his arms on his lap.

You turned your head to the older man next to you and furrowed your brows, “I told you, you don’t have to wear that when you’re with me… which is basically almost twenty-four seven, so you don’t have to wear it at all.”

He was wearing that stupid black mask again, which covered any facial features lower than his turquoise eyes.

You studied him, your eyes tracing his side profile. Sanzu wore his long pink hair in a ponytail, shorter loose strands framing the left side of his face, he also sported one black hoop earring in each ear but you knew he had more piercings than that, something you’ve grown fond of.

The way the warm streetlight illuminated his profile warmed something in your chest, and the way his turquoise eyes turned a shade warmer..

“Your father saw me without it… you can guess what happened next.” Sanzu shrugged, looking over at you, his facial muscles flexing under his mask—you presumed he was smiling under it but not a genuine one, it didn’t reach his eyes.

The reason for the black mask that sat on Sanzu’s face was unnecessary. It was enforced by your father that he had to wear it at all times as Sanzu possessed scars on either corner of his lips, almost in the shape of a diamond.

Your father was strict when it came to the company’s reputation, and apparently strict enough to ask your personal driver to cover his scarred face, though you thought it was purely not needed as Sanzu was just a chauffeur.

You also didn’t like the way your father asked Sanzu to minimize his earrings down to one jewelry per ear, again, completely unnecessary.

If you were being honest, your father was never fond of Sanzu and did not even have intentions of hiring him as your personal driver.

Your father only hired Sanzu because you insisted you liked him the most out of all potential chauffeur candidates, despite the man not having past experience for the job at hand but you didn’t care, the job required was to just drive anyway.

Sanzu explained during his interview for this job that he’s an ex-delinquent–another reason why your father did not like Sanzu–but has changed his ways and is now trying to live a better life, a normal one at that.

His reasoning moved you in some way, you felt the genuinity in his words which indicated that he was serious about this new path he’s taking, Sanzu was also a bit hesitant to discuss this during the interview as he felt like it was too late for him to do so since he was already twenty-seven years old–four years older than you–but you reassured him during the interview that it was never too late to change to a better path.

Sanzu has been nothing but a polite individual, he was not a man of too many words and often opted to just listen, even if it was just the both of you. Sometimes you wonder what runs through his mind.

“Well, my father is not here, so you can take it off. And I’ll tell him to lay off about that damn mask, I don’t like it on you.” you scoffed, already not liking the idea of your father scolding Sanzu for not wearing his mask.

The older man nodded and hesitantly brought his hands up to either side of his face to unhook the mask from his pierced ears. A small shiver ran down Sanzu’s back as the cold air kissed the hot skin that had been confined under the suffocating mask.

All while he was doing this, a small smile dawned upon your face, he was breathtaking.

“You know, I don’t really mind wearing a mask… it makes people stare less at my face.” Sanzu’s gaze dropped down to his hands as he neatly folded the mask and pocketed it.

He wasn’t going to lie, he liked the feeling of breathing air without a piece of cloth confining his nose and mouth but he just felt more vulnerable without it, especially when strangers didn’t bother to hide their disgust when staring.

Conversely, the mask lessened the attention on him, and he felt less vulnerable with the way it covered his emotions.

Upon hearing this, you frowned. You didn’t like the way Sanzu got so comfortable with hiding himself from the world because of the nasty stares he got from just being himself.

There was literally nothing to cover, Sanzu was just as beautiful with or without his scars, and they definitely don’t define him. Something people needed to keep in mind. You refrained from complimenting him out loud because it would be a bit awkward as you two weren’t that close, yet.

“But I don’t mind and I think that’s the only opinion that matters because I hired you, and you work for me. So, fuck everyone else, they’re just projecting their insecurities.”

You never really knew how Sanzu got his scars and you didn’t want to ask since he was clearly insecure about them but you presumed he got it from his delinquent days. Just a mere guess though.

Sanzu chuckled at your reply, he thought you were cute but still very naïve. He gave you a smile, a genuine one, “Technically, your father hired me.” you playfully shook your head at him, muttering ‘that’s basically the same thing’ under your breath.

The two of you spent an hour or so like this, a friendly banter occurring back and forth at times. It definitely de-stressed you a lot, which you were thankful for Sanzu for the most part, as he was the only one listening to your endless rants about your personal life and job.

“You wanna know why I wanted to come here tonight?” you dryly chuckled, your gaze shifting down to your hands as you fiddled with your fingers and picked at your skin. Sanzu noticed that it was a habit of yours to do that every time you had something in your mind that bothered you. He also stared at your hands, “Why?”

It took you about a full minute to answer before letting out a heavy sigh and finally looking back at him, fingers still picking at your skin, “It’s my birthday today.” you forced a smile.

Sanzu barely showed any emotions but he was visibly shocked at this, his brows shooting upwards, eyes widening and his scarred mouth slightly parting.

Genuine shock soon turned into confusion, brows furrowing as he asked you, “Why aren’t you spending time with your family? I’m sure they’d organized something for you.”

Sanzu genuinely believed this. Your family was wealthy so it confused him as to why your parents wouldn’t plan something extravagant on your 23rd birthday, like what other rich people did.

You were a child of a very wealthy man who owned one of the biggest marketing firms in the country, so it confused him a bit.

You shook your head and let out another sigh as you threw your head back and looked up at the vast sky above, “Nah… I grew up spending my birthdays alone. I would always come home to the same thing every year, a big bouquet of flowers, stacks of presents and a tiered cake. It was nice at first but I got tired of it… I never once spent my birthday with them after the age of 5.” you replied, still looking up at the stars.

Your parents were the type of people to think they could keep you happy by giving you whatever you wanted, and it did, for only a short period of time. But what you really wanted was some quality time and their undivided attention, they were always so caught up on work that they forgot about their only child.

Guess they did not, in fact, give you whatever you wanted.

Sanzu truly felt sorry for you, he’s definitely got a gist of how your family functions with only 3 months of working for you, both your parents were work-driven and managed to prioritize the company before their child’s own needs.

He felt kind of bad for assuming you were just another spoiled wealthy kid when he first started his job. Sanzu had picked you up from your family-owned company one night, a big bouquet of red roses sitting in the back seat, its scent filling the car.

Your father had apparently gotten you the roses as a congratulatory gift for being promoted, at least that’s what he told Sanzu.

He remembered how you stepped into the car and didn’t even bat an eye at the expensive gift, Sanzu looked at you through the rear-view mirror as you read the handwritten letter attached on the bouquet–presuming it was written by your father–you simply just sighed and tossed it back to the general direction of the roses.

He was a bit taken back by your behaviour but remained silent as he backed out of the parking space and into the busy streets.

Now, he understood why you acted that way that night. You were just so used to your parents giving you all these gifts that it lost all its monetary value, no matter how expensive they were.

Sanzu knew that what you truly sought out was some quality time from your parents, you didn’t need expensive gifts, you needed their love and attention just like any other kid growing up.

Even though the two of you lived very different lives, he was somewhat relating to your situation. Growing up, he never had proper parental figures, god, he didn’t even know them that much as his parents were barely home and probably fucked around with drugs, which left him and his siblings to fend for themselves.

Unlike you, he had two siblings, an older brother and a younger sister. His older brother was no different, he focused more on their younger sister which isolated Sanzu a lot but he did have his younger sister, although their relationship wasn’t the very best.

“I’m sorry. Happy Birthday.” was all Sanzu could reply, his gaze softened as he stared at your side profile, you were still admiring the stars.

You chuckled and finally looked at him and held his aquamarine gaze, “You don’t have to be, it’s not your fault… and thank you.” Sanzu’s chest warmed as he saw a glint of happiness in your eyes, he swore you were about to cry but blinked away the tears threatening to form.

You didn’t know why but his greeting genuinely made you happy, “You must think I’m so lame, I only have my chauffeur to rant to.” you scoffed and looked away once again, this time scanning the tree lines ahead of you.

He didn’t think you were lame, you were quite the opposite. Sanzu understood the demands your parents asked from you–with the amount of times you’ve ranted to him–and figured you didn’t live a very memorable childhood despite being surrounded by endless wealth.

You were only in your early twenties but he felt you were much more mature despite your young age, it was probably due to the fact that you had expectations to uphold and roles to fill.

“No. I think you’re okay.” this was the first time Sanzu has spoken more than ever for the past three months you’ve had him working for you, he was actually actively engaging in the conversation and not just the occasional nods and hums he gave when you ranted before, you appreciated this from him, more than he knew.

Your night was cut short when you remembered you had something early the next day, even though it was the weekend. Sanzu drove you back home and didn’t forget to greet you ‘happy birthday’ one last time before he hopped onto his motorcycle–that was parked inside the garage–and rode home.

You smiled to yourself like an idiot as you made your way inside your family estate, he made you happy, something not a lot of people can do.

As expected, you were met with your usual birthday presents, but this time you weren’t surrounded by maids and butlers. You stood in front of the dining hall, the long mahogany table stretching from one end to another filled with meals you get more than usual on your birthday.

The chairs were also occupied by your parents and three other guests you didn’t know, this surprised you as you’ve spent countless birthdays sitting on one end of the table, alone and no one to talk to but the maids and butlers that stood by if you needed anything. At least they were always nice enough to sing you a ‘happy birthday’ to lighten the damp mood.

You furrowed your brows at the three unknown guests, the last thing you expected was your parents actually showing up for your birthday and bringing in unknown guests to dine with.

Sure, the estate was often filled with unknown guests which you assumed were close business partners of your father and the company but you never had to dine with them.

The unknown older man sat on the other end of the table, opposite your father, whereas the older woman–probably his wife–sat across from your mother, both were around the age of your parents, and the last person was a young man probably around your age as well but you didn’t recognize him.

“Happy Birthday! We’ve been waiting for you, come and have a seat!” your father greeted you from one end of the table, a saccharine smile forming upon his lips.

You hesitantly made your way over to the only empty seat–which was across from the young man you have yet to be introduced to–and muttered a small ‘thank you’.

The young man opposite you gave you a shy smile before taking a sip of his red wine. “I want you to meet one of our most trusted business partners, the FJ group, and this is their son Heizo Fujio.” your father indicated the young man opposite you, you politely greeted them.

You’ve heard of the FJ group before, they were one of the top selling retail companies in the country with an average revenue sitting in the billions area and their brands always successfully making profit.

You could finally put a face to the owner of the FJ group but it wasn’t like you were desperate to do so. The young man–Heizo–gave you another smile upon his introduction, politely jutting his arm across the table and in front of you, you didn’t hesitate to shake his hand and return his smile but you were still confused as to why they were here.

As if on cue, your father spoke up once again with delight in his eyes, something inside you didn’t like that look in his eyes, not anticipating what was coming next.

“Mr. Fujio and I have been discussing you and Heizo… and we were thinking since both of you are our next successors, it would be in our best interest for you two to personally know each other, with marriage in mind. We have been business partners for so long and we feel like we’re ready to take it a step further.”

You didn’t know what to say.

You sat there frozen in your seat, the sound of your heart drumming rapidly against your chest engulfing you as your mind reeled. First of all, what the fuck? And second of all, I didn’t consent to this. That’s what you wanted to say but your parents raised you better than to disrespect the food on the table.

Your breathing became erratic as you could feel your limbs tingling, you wanted to do something but didn’t know what. You hated this feeling because it only came around when you knew you couldn’t do anything about the situation at hand. It was beyond your control.

Overreacting? Probably.

And yes, you haven’t met Heizo nor explored his personality and it also doesn’t mean that he might not turn out so bad but the idea of marriage was just… too soon.

You only just turned twenty-three today, you were still young and had a bright future ahead of you, and marriage was just something you haven’t thought of, especially since you’re always busy with the firm and practically have no time to get to know anyone.

Your eyes darted around the table, all of them seemed to be pleased about this news, especially Heizo. You felt like an outcast, it felt like someone had told an inside joke that they all knew except for you. Were you the only one thinking things are being rushed? Even your mother was nodding along.

Nothing came out as you opened your mouth, you thought of ways to counter this idea or at least let them re-think about the marriage. But there was nothing. Your mind went blank and you felt helpless. You didn’t know why but amidst the blankness of your mind, you swore you saw Sanzu.

—

Sanzu briefly glanced at you through the rear view mirror while he waited for the vehicle engine to warm up, you sat at the back seat and your beige trenchcoat wrapping around your body as you crossed your arms and looked outside the window.

He noticed your hair was styled in a ponytail, and you wore your signature diamond drop earrings that probably cost more than his life; from what he’s gathered, you only wore the pair during formal occasions.

“Heading to the firm today, right?” he asked.

You glanced over at your chauffeur, earrings swaying at every movement, he sported his usual white button up and black slacks but this time accompanied with a black bomber jacket due to the colder season.

A smile appeared upon your lips, seeing that he didn’t wear his mask, Sanzu noticed your smile. “Oh, I forgot to text you that my morning meeting for today has been rescheduled. I have a date with Heizo… so we’ll head over to FJ since they suggested we take one car.” He noticed the corners of your lips dropping as you replied.

Oh, so that’s what the earrings were for. You had a date. Sanzu thought.

This was the first time Sanzu had to drive you on a date, majority of the time he just drove you to and from work, with some other trips to leisure places like high-end stores where you came back with a shit ton of bags that housed varieties of luxury items.

You definitely had a keen eye for pretty things.

There was even one time where you asked him to accompany you to browse the autumn collection of a high-end clothing brand and he swore he’s never kept his hands to himself as much as he did inside the store, with the fear of accidentally damaging items worth more than his life.

Sanzu felt something odd in his chest at the thought of you going on a date with another man but he quickly brushed it off and nodded before he started typing the address of the FJ Group on the built-in screen of your vehicle.

The car ride was mainly silent but not uncomfortable. From time to time, he glanced over at you through the rear view mirror, your brows knitted together and occasionally letting out deep sighs that felt like there was something heavy behind it all, something that clouded your mind.

There was something bothering you but Sanzu didn’t want to pry.

He would never admit this to anyone else but it pained him whenever something bothered you, he knew the strict life you lived under the control of your parents and he knew the expectations you desperately tried to reach, and sometimes he would just wish that you had one genuine day where you were free from it all; the expectations, the stress, and the calculated future you had ahead of you.

But little did he know you were free from all that but only when you were with him.

Sanzu drummed his fingers on the leather steering wheel, nodding his head to the music while you both waited for Heizo; the car was parked–but still running–in the basement parking lot of the FJ Group firm.

He was eager to finally put a face to the name since it's been clouding his mind ever since you told him about it. Was he handsome? Well dressed? Was he good for you? These questions ran through Sanzu’s mind and he had to mentally stop himself from thinking about them as it didn’t even concern him. After all, he’s just a mere chauffeur, your chauffeur.

A fairly tall man exited the building which caught Sanzu’s turquoise gaze, he stopped drumming his fingers and focused on the man making his way towards your black Porsche.

Heizo was wearing a white button up paired with a navy blue vest and slacks, topping the outfit off with a black trench coat. Sanzu thought he looked absolutely charismatic despite being effortless, he felt a slight pang of jealousy. He didn’t know why.

Heizo enthusiastically greeted you as he entered the vehicle, his expensive musky cologne immediately filling up the car which made Sanzu almost gag at the smell, it overpowered your sweet scented perfume, the perfume you always wore and he’s grown to love.

The pink haired man silently watched as Heizo scooted all the way to the middle seat of the vehicle, leaving almost no room between the two of you, he also noticed the way you uncomfortably leaned closer towards the car door.

It was almost painful for Sanzu to hide his expression at Heizo’s brazenness, he could tell you two weren’t close with the way you shifted against the leather seat.

“We’re headed to The Black Pearl.” Heizo turned his attention to Sanzu.

Sanzu briefly looked back at the man next to you and nodded, but he didn’t miss the way Heizo’s gaze lingered at his scarred lips, a little too long for his liking. Sanzu also didn’t miss the way his face contorted ever so slightly with pure disgust before turning his attention back to you.

Sanzu cleared his throat and looked ahead of him, uncomfortably shifting in his seat before pulling out of the parking space.

—

It was already late in the afternoon and had just dropped off Heizo at their place. You watched as the man waved from the marble steps and hastily made his way inside their mansion.

Before Sanzu could drive off, you told him to wait and quickly got out of the back passenger seat, making your way over to the front passenger seat and sitting next to Sanzu.

He was taken aback by your bold move, his keen turquoise eyes watching you fasten your seatbelt.

“...You okay?” he asked as you made yourself comfortable against the expensive leather material of the seat. You met his aquamarine gaze and gave him a smile that shouldn’t have made him suck in a breath and his heart skip a beat, “I’m fine, just wanted to sit here.” you shrugged and looked out the window.

Sanzu stared at you for a couple more seconds, studying every single one of your features, you looked content. Definitely a contrast from your mood just a few minutes earlier when Heizo was still in the car.

Sanzu traced the outline of your pretty face and the way the corner of your lips were slightly upturned, like you were trying to hide a smile but failed to do so.

He inhaled a shallow breath as felt something inside him, something in his chest; he doesn’t know when he’s been feeling this sensation but it’s different, something he’s never felt before. It felt warm and comfortable, and he wanted to grasp every single bit of this feeling but something deep within tells him that it might be dangerous.

It wouldn’t hurt to test the waters, right? Test whatever he was feeling.

He gripped the steering in front of him and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the warmth was now spreading up his neck and to his cheeks and ears. Sanzu put the car on ‘drive’ and started driving before his mind could think of any other thoughts that would confuse him.

The date went okay.

That was the only word you could think of, nothing more, nothing less. You didn’t really expect much from Heizo but you also didn’t expect less from him.

You two just didn’t… click, all he talked about was how many successful projects he had launched, how he was the sole reason for having a higher percentage of sales than last year, and how— basically all the business talk.

Although, the only thing that stuck to you was that Heizo was the same age as you, not that it mattered.

You didn’t care about the business talk he brought upon the table, nor did you care about the fact that he–on your very first date–bought you expensive jewellery and from his words, which was ‘one of a kind’ as he had gotten it specifically catered to you. Whatever the fuck that meant.

You remember blankly staring at the necklace that rested inside a black velvet box, every single diamond twinkling under the restaurant lights.

You remember the proud look on Heizo’s face, like he had done something out of this world, like he thought he had already won your heart by merely buying you something expensive. Maybe it’s the thought that counts.

Just like my parents, you thought.

There was no genuine connection between you and him because you two clearly had different ideas in mind when thinking about what to talk about on a first date.

If you actually saw potential in Heizo and tried, you would have wanted to get to know him. You didn’t wanna know about what fantastic deals he’s closed, how much he contributed to the company sales, nor how much he spent on that necklace he got you.

You would’ve wanted to know about his interests and what he does in his free time to entertain himself.

In this world, you feel that people forget so much about the little things, the little things that matter. Nowadays everyone focuses solely on the monetary value and often forget that one of the foundations of love is attention, being attentive towards their partner and fulfilling their physical and mental needs with what they actually need.

People often mistaken that going for a materialistic approach will fulfil one’s needs but it doesn’t.

Sanzu had the urge to ask how your date went, he could feel the question building in his throat but had to quickly swallow it down because it did not concern him in any way. But it’s as if you read his mind, you broke the silence in the vehicle, “It was awful.” you scoffed.

“All he talked about were business-related things and was just basically flaunting his money. The audacity of him to think he’d be able to win me over by using his wealth… I mean like, not that he has a chance but you get what I mean, right?” You turned your head to the pink haired man, his aquamarine eyes focused on the road but you knew he was listening intently with the way he nodded his head and gave you a hum.

“Goodness, what a fool he is if he thinks he can buy my love.” 

“The last time I went on a date was when I was twenty and I kid you not, these men have not changed. Thinking that all the ladies would be impressed about being rich.” you continued your rant, Sanzu has never seen you this worked up over something, it amused him a bit and thought you were cute.

“Hm. Maybe because I’ve been looking in the wrong direction for a real man." he could feel your burning gaze on the side of his face and it took him all his willpower not to look back at you because he had to focus on the road.

But fuck, his heart was beating so fast. Last time his heart beat this fast was when he took unknown pills to try and forget everything.

All you wanted was someone different, like a breath of fresh air, someone genuinely interested in you and your personality. Yes, Heizo was wealthy and you both were in the same tax bracket but what is he underneath all that wealth? What kind of person would he be?

Later that night, after his job for the day was over, Sanzu went for a night drive with his motorcycle. He wanted to clear his head because all he could think of was you.

The way your lip gloss complemented your lips, the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the way your eyes twinkled every time— Fuck, this is unprofessional, he cursed himself.

How could he be thinking about you like that? You were so sweet and nice, and the sole reason why he got this job, so he couldn’t compromise his position by thinking this way.

But you were just so pure and so innocent that he wanted to ruin you, to ravage every single ounce of your innocence— “Fuck.” he whispered to himself as he sat on his still motorcycle. He wanted to smoke so bad but he knew better than getting high and riding back home.

As soon as you got home, you managed to convince your parents that you didn’t think things with Heizo were going to escalate further than being just business partners and to your surprise, they took it quite well, especially your father.

He even mentioned that maybe you two weren’t actually compatible from the beginning. This relieved you as you thought they would finally let the marriage idea go.

You thought wrong.

For the past few days, you finally knew why your parents were able to let that whole situation with Heizo go down the drain and it was because they found you new suitors.

Yes, plural. Apparently they had a whole list of your potential suitors and Heizo was just one of the many, this made you question your parents why they were so desperate to get you a husband. After all, you were only at the ripe age of twenty-three.

Just as you expected, it was for the future of the company. Like it always had been when it came to your life. Pursue a business degree, it’s for the sake of your future and the company, they told you and so you did. Focus on your studies and quit messing around, you’re the future of the company, they told you and so you did.

They reminded you countless times how you were the future and successor of the company that it almost became embedded in your brain, you had expectations to reach and roles to keep up with, but at the same time, your parents forgot that who they were pressuring was just a mere child.

They didn’t know the heavy weight you had to carry upon your back, practically sacrificing your mental and physical well being for the sake of the company. It also didn’t help how apathetic they were; they missed your birthdays, your university graduation ceremony, and most importantly they never gave you the love and attention you wanted.

Gifts were given to you in exchange for your parents’ absence.

Your whole schedule was practically cleared just to go on dates for your potential suitors and Sanzu was surprised when you told him about your current situation, and why he had to drive you everywhere but to your work.

It was yet another one of those days where you had just finished a date with another suitor, you were growing so damn tired of it, of everything. Every single one of these men–more like boys–were just what you expected.

No one stood out and no one bothered to make a genuine connection with you. You were met with all sorts of strategies and presents that were used to woo you but none of them worked because at the end of the day, they were all just the same, they only had wealth to brag about.

In between the dates you went on, you got closer to Sanzu, close enough that you were both now on a first name basis and you were even sitting more frequently beside him while he drove.

You also noticed how much he has opened up to you, he barely wore his mask and wouldn’t hesitate to give you hearty laughs whenever you tried to lighten the mood.

It didn’t even feel like he was your chauffeur but instead a friend. A friend who you could lean on, a friend who didn’t base you solely on your status, a friend who saw you for who you really were.

A friend who gave his undivided attention.

Although, the funny thing was that during your dates, your mind started to wonder what traits you were looking for in a partner because you clearly already knew what you didn’t want in a partner. During these, you would often find yourself comparing every single one of your suitors to a particular someone.

Haruchiyo.

Every time someone new came, your mind went back to Haruchiyo and thought about how they were nowhere near his personality that you’ve grown so fond of.

You looked for Haruchiyo Sanzu in every guy you went on a date with.

And at that moment, that was when you finally noticed your feelings that had been lingering and laying dormant deep in your heart. The dates you went on awakened your feelings for him.

You were in love with Haruchiyo.

You sat there, frozen while blankly staring at the road ahead of you as you came to the realisation that you loved him. You didn’t even know you were gripping the fabric of your pants until Haruchiyo asked if you were okay and pointed it out as he briefly glanced over your way and back to the road, “Hm? I’m fine…” you murmured.

Haru was the best person you could imagine to fall in love with but the situation was complicated. It was a risk and you never took risks, everything in your life was calculated and planned out for you. Besides, you didn’t even know if he even felt the same way.

“Have you ever been in love, Haru?” you leaned your head onto the headrest and turned your head to him, lips jutting out in a slight pout.

God, he liked it so much when you used his nickname, it did unexplainable things to him. Haruchiyo waited for the car to come to a complete stop at the lights before turning to you and holding your curious gaze.

It took him a few seconds to answer, like he was wracking his brain around to find the most suitable reply, “Hm… I guess I could say yes.” you nodded before dropping your gaze and looking out the window, how lucky she must be, you thought.

“What made you ask?” he questioned, returning his focus back on the road as the light turned green.

You shook your head, still looking out the window, “...Nothing. It’s just that I think— no, I am in love with a certain someone but it’s complicated.” you let out a huff and avoided looking back at the man that made your heart ache and skip a beat.

His brows shot up at your sudden confession, Haruchiyo gripped the steering wheel a little harder as he felt jealousy engulfing his body, “Oh? One of your suitors? Isn’t that good?” it pained him trying to force himself to sound like he cared. But he didn’t, he didn’t give a single fuck about it.

“No and no. That’s the thing… he’s not a suitor that my parents have picked out.” you covered your face with your palms, groaning into them. This feeling drove you crazy, you wanted Haruchiyo so bad, you yearned for him but didn’t know how to approach the situation.

Haruchiyo’s heart skipped a beat at this; there it was again, the warm feeling that spread throughout his body but this time he knew what it was.  There was this ounce of hope that kept him going, that you would see him as a man and not just someone who worked for you.

“Ah… then who is it?”

Haruchiyo did his best to remove all traces of desperation laced in his tone. He took deep breaths while waiting for your answer. He wanted to look at you so badly but he needed to focus on the road, he wanted to see your expression right this very moment.

You remained silent at his question but your mind was screaming for you to tell him how you truly felt. Your limbs were tingling, your heart was racing and your mind was going crazy; the confession was stuck in your throat but you couldn’t physically bring yourself to do it because you were scared to take the risk.

But at the same time, this was a risk for yourself. Your very own decision and not made by someone else.

Your fists clenched on your lap as you prepared yourself, your leg bounced with anxiety as tension grew, slowly filling the vehicle as his question remained unanswered. You bit your lip, desperate to tell Haruchiyo how you really felt about him.

Fuck it. was your last thought before opening your mouth to confess.

“It’s you. I’m in love with you Haru.”

Haruchiyo Sanzu almost fucking choked on his saliva. His brows shot up and mouth slowly parted at your sudden confession, he didn’t know what to say, his throat was suddenly dry. Haruchiyo felt like he was intoxicated, his legs and arms felt lighter, everything just felt so different.

Fuck, was the music always this loud? He thought. His mind raced as he played your confession over and over again, and without fail, it made his body warmer.

He was fucking ecstatic. You love him back. He wanted to just lean over across the console and kiss you so badly but he couldn’t, you were so close yet so far away from him.

“Fuck, princess, you can’t just confess like that while I’m in the middle of driving.” he let out a sharp breath followed by a breathy chuckle.

Before you knew it, Haruchiyo was already pulling into the garage, he swiftly parked the vehicle and turned it off before turning to you. Silence engulfed you both as you held each other’s stares, you swore your ears started to ring with how intense his gaze was.

You blinked, “D-do you feel the same way?” you broke the silence, studying Haruchiyo’s face, he was truly beautiful, the way his long pretty lashes complimented his turquoise eyes. He briefly closed his eyes and opened them again, nodding his head, “Is that even a question?”

A smile made its way to your lips and your eyes twinkled as you looked up at him with hearts in your eyes. “I really want to kiss you right now… but I’ve never kissed anyone and I don’t really know how…” you trailed off, avoiding his turquoise eyes as your cheeks warmed at your silly confession.

You stared at his lips, it was so tempting. Haruchiyo noticed you staring at his lips and thickly swallowed, normally he would start feeling uncomfortable if it were any other person that stared at his lips but it was different with you.

With you, he didn’t have to reel back and hide his biggest insecurity. Your gaze felt warm, there were no signs of disgust and judgement, only love.

“I can help you out… if you want.” Haruchiyo replied, his voice dropping an octave lower.

“Please, Haru?”

Haruchiyo swore under his breath as you begged for him. He wasted no time leaning over the console and reaching for you, placing a firm hand on the side of your neck as he desperately pulled you closer to him and sealing the gap between your lips.

His kisses were slow and sensual, it was your first time after all so he wanted you to feel all of him. Your lips perfectly moulded against each other, he was so warm and soft that you almost didn’t mind doing this all day.

You desperately clawed at the fabric of his chest, wanting more of Haruchiyo’s kisses. The ringing in your ears got louder as you kissed him longer, your legs felt weak even though you were sitting down, and your head spun. It felt so so good. The way your body reacted to his kisses was something you’ve never felt before.

Something within Haruchiyo stirred when you let out a whine as he started rubbing the side of your neck using the thumb of the hand that was firmly placed there. He’s barely even touched you properly and you were already whining for him? How cute. He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

Haruchiyo was about to stick his tongue in your mouth until he heard the garage door open. You both lunged away from each other at the loud sound, desperate to catch your breaths.

You bit your lip at the state of the man in front of you, his cheeks were dusted pink, lips swollen and letting out soft pants as his chest desperately rose up and down. Beautiful, you thought.

“Oh fuck, it’s your father.” Haruchiyo’s lust-filled eyes widened, reaching for his pocket and quickly slipping his mask on, you both desperately tried to fix yourselves up before exiting the vehicle and pretending like you two weren’t just sucking the life out of each other a few seconds ago.

Your father greeted the both of you before hopping into his own car with his personal driver. You headed for the door that led inside the estate while Haruchiyo headed for his motorcycle, you both looked back at each other and gave shy smiles before parting ways.

Later that night, you had asked Haruchiyo to meet up and discuss this whole situation and he was grateful for this as he didn’t really know where he stood at that moment, plus, there were hundreds of questions running through his mind.

Yes he was ecstatic about the mutuality of both your feelings, but this was the real world, you were both adults that led very different lives and he knew this wasn’t going to be easy for the both of you… if you two agree to go down the path of establishing a relationship.

You snuck out from your room, heart drumming against your chest as it was your first time doing this. You’ve never snuck out and barely disobeyed your parents so this was clearly an uncommon ground for you and the thought of being caught sneaking out scared you, especially if you were caught by your father.

Haruchiyo waited in front of the garage, sitting under the starry night sky as he leaned on his motorcycle. A small smile crept up your lips as you spotted him and as if on cue, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

He didn’t sport his usual white button up and slacks, instead opting for dark denim pants, black turtleneck, and a leather jacket to top it off; he also wore his hair down which sat past his shoulders.

“You look nice.” you tilted your head up to him, eyes twinkling like the stars in the dark sky.

The corner of his lips twitched up, he muttered a shy ‘thanks’ before handing you a helmet. You placed the black helmet over your head as Haruchiyo hopped on his motorcycle and turned it on, you followed suit, struggling to get on due to being shorter but nonetheless managed to, with the help of the older man.

“Hold on tight. Don’t let go.” Haruchiyo reached behind him and took both of your arms, encircling them around his waist. You nodded, although you knew he couldn’t see you.

As Haruchiyo revved the engine of his motorcycle, your arms tightened around his waist, interlocking your hands that rested on his stomach and leaned your encased head against his back.

He couldn’t help but smirk at your behaviour.

With that, the both of you speed into the darkness of the night, the stars dwelling upon you both. Twinkling like they were happy for you two and your newfound love for each other.

The cold air hit you as Haru manoeuvred his way to your destination, it felt nice riding the motorcycle. You were hesitant at first but managed to relax since Haruchiyo was with you, you felt the safest when you were with him.

It didn’t take too long before the two of you reached the all too familiar destination.

The Park.

The both of you sat sideways on his motorcycle, shoulders touching one another while basking in comfortable silence. “...Why me?” Haruchiyo broke the silence, genuine curiosity laced within his question.

“I mean, you practically have guys begging to be with you. All those expensive gifts, their money, their status… and I’m just… me. A lowly individual who definitely doesn’t make half as much as you do.”

Haruchiyo was genuinely confused as to why you even fell in love with him. It didn’t make sense. He’s done so many wrong things in his life, he wasn’t even making that much money and probably couldn’t provide even if he wanted to and he definitely didn’t even match up to your suitors.

They were wealthy and he was… just normal.

“You’re young and you have a great life ahead of you, so why choose someone like me? Why not go for someone near your age?” He continued.

You chuckled, “That’s the thing. I fell in love with you because you’re you.”

“I don’t care if they’re wealthy and bought me expensive gifts. Those don’t mean anything to me, and you of all people should know that by now. But you, on the other hand… you’re different. Yes, you might claim to have nothing and that’s okay with me, because all I’m after is your love and attention that you did not fail to give me every single time.”

“They could never buy my love with expensive gifts, but you were able to buy my love with attention because that’s all I’ve ever wanted, Haru.” you leaned your head on his shoulder, a sad smile forming on your lips.

Yes, Haruchiyo did not have the wealth to offer you like your suitors had but he offered you something greater, something you’ve been asking for your whole life and that was undivided attention.

He was attentive and listened to you like you were the most interesting person in the whole world–which in fact, he did think you are–, he has been nothing but sweet to you and you couldn’t help but fall in love with all that.

You couldn’t help but fall in love with a man who had no wealth to offer you.

And that was more than okay.

“Also, I don’t care if you’re older than me, it doesn’t matter. All my suitors were merely boys, I’m after a man who knows how to treat me well.”

Haruchiyo couldn’t help but laugh at your sentence, he reached for one of your cold hands and started rubbing them in between his own, tracing unfamiliar shapes on your palm, he leaned his cheek on top of your head and let out a sigh. “I really want to kiss you right now…”

You removed your head from his shoulder which made him look down at you, you met his gaze, “What’s holding you back, Haru? Kiss me.”

You’ll be the fucking death of him.

Haruchiyo obeyed and leaned down to close the gap between the two of you, both your lips cold from the winter air. His kisses were different this time, way different. Haruchiyo kissed with desperation, both his palms cupping your frozen cheeks as he desperately tried to get closer to you.

He didn’t hesitate to stick his tongue past your lips, to which you moaned at the foreign feeling. Everything felt so good, the way his tongue moved against your own, the way he tasted, and the way he firmly held you against his lips.

Haruchiyo trailed hot kisses along your jawline, making you shiver from the contrast of the cold temperature.

“Fuck… this is so unprofessional.” he whispered against the hot skin of your neck before lightly sucking on it. “I don’t— mhm! I don’t see you stopping though…” you angled your head up at the starry sky to give him more access to your neck, your hands making their way to his rosy pink hair and tugging at them.

Haruchiyo let out a low growl, chills running down his spine as you pulled at his hair, “Hmm? You seem to be enjoying yourself.” he chuckled as he gave your neck a peck before pulling away and looking at your flustered state.

Your lips were swollen and soft pants slipped past them as you stared at him with a clouded gaze. He’s barely even touched you and you’re already a mess.

“But… What about your father?” he suddenly looked concerned. The look in his eyes changing from lust to anxiety, he bit his lip at the thought of your father’s wrath. He wasn’t afraid of what your father would do to him, rather he was afraid of what would happen to you.

You were scared.

You knew your father never liked Haruchiyo, not even a single ounce of him but he tolerated Haru for your sake. He hired him for your sake. You were definitely scared of your father finding out about the two of you, there were a lot of reasons to be.

The first one being Haruchiyo not fitting into his standards. You two led very different lives and you could already hear the other companies and media gossiping about you and how you fell in love with your chauffeur who was an ex-delinquent.

You could see your father doing everything he could to make sure you’d have no contact with Haruchiyo.

You shook your head and buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent, it helped calm you down a bit. “I-i don’t know, Haru… I’m scared but all I know is that I want to be with you.” he placed a hand behind your head and stroked your hair, reassuring you that he’ll be by your side no matter what happened.

But deep down, he was scared shitless. Not because of your father but because he knew that the universe could easily take you away from his grasp and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, because that was life. Life was cruel and harsh, and he didn’t always get what he wanted, no matter how much he prayed to the stars above him.

This time, he wished the universe would listen to him just this once. He could be stripped away of everything for all he cared for but he wouldn’t know what to do if it was you who was taken away from him.

It pained his chest just thinking about it.

A few weeks have passed since establishing your relationship with Haruchiyo, in secret of course.

You two had gotten closer to each other and spent more time together in the evening–away from everyone’s prying eyes–after he picked you up from work, and you always looked forward to them because he truly made you forget about every single thing that stressed you out.

There would be times where you two would steal shy glances at each other whenever someone else was around, slightly brushing your hands with one another as you walked past him in the garage.

But there would also be times where no one was around and the two of you freely held one another, shy glances turned into make out sessions and the slight brush of your hands turned into firmly holding one another.

You also spent more time in the back area of the estate where most of the house workers would be.

You knew Haruchiyo hung around a lot there while waiting for you to go and thankfully all the other workers didn’t bat an eye at your sudden frequent appearance there.

Although, one thing that has gotten you on the edge was the now strained relationship with your father. You’d argued with your parents for days on end about the whole marriage idea and finding a suitor, you told them that it was simply too early to be getting married and that you wanted to focus on your career.

Of course, this was mostly true but you didn’t want to meet other suitors because you wanted to focus on your career but because you’ve already found someone who you want to spend the rest of your life with.

Your father didn’t take the argument too well which resulted in a strained relationship with him. You now felt like you were walking on eggshells when trying to converse with him.

You’ve also discussed countless times with Haruchiyo about the idea of introducing him as your boyfriend to your father, he wasn’t scared about the confrontation but he knew that it wouldn’t go well.

There was a small ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe that your father would actually be on board with your relationship. He wasn’t a cruel man, no, but he had his morals straight and did not hesitate to let anyone know.

But, this was merely just hope you were holding on to and you have yet to test it.

“You look absolutely stunning, by the way.” your boyfriend stole a glance at you from the rearview mirror, his aquamarine eyes twinkling in the dark vehicle.

You were on your way to the venue of the annual winter company party for all employers that worked under your family and the company, and that included Haruchiyo. “I could say the same about you.” you giggled. 

It was your first time seeing Haruchiyo sport a low bun but you weren’t complaining; he wore a 3-piece suit–provided by you–which he looked sexy in.

The way the vest hugged his thin waist did unexplainable things to you. Although, the highlight of it was you managed to convince him to leave the mask at home and when he had asked you ‘why’, you simply replied something along the lines of not being able to freely kiss him.

“I want you to walk in with me.” you said as Haruchiyo took the keys from the car and pocketed it, he looked back at you and smiled, nodding. His nerves were getting to him and he didn’t know why, it was just a party, that’s all.

It took all his will power to not wrap his arm around your waist to let all the other men in the room that you were his as you two walked inside.

As expected, it was grand.

Waiters were everywhere serving wine and fancy little appetizers that he probably couldn’t pronounce the name of; it was already filled with familiar faces dressed in fancy attires, many who stood around several cocktail tables and chatting with one another.

As if sensing Haruchiyo’s nervousness, you reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before dropping it, he wished you held it a little longer, he was already missing the warmth of your hand.

Your father spotted you and made his way towards the two of you, completely oblivious to the fact that you just held your chauffeur’s hand mere seconds ago. “Sanzu, so glad you could make it.” your father nodded in appreciation at the pink haired man, sternly smiling at him before dropping his gaze down to his uncovered lips.

Haruchiyo froze at this, he didn’t know what to do. The anxious feeling that he’s been pushing down now came surging up, spreading throughout his body, he felt so small and vulnerable, and he absolutely hated it.

You noticed your father’s gaze, annoyance rising as you mentally cursed to yourself. You shifted closer to your boyfriend, letting your arms touch, this made Haruchiyo a bit calmer and appreciated how you always looked out for him.

Before your father could say anything about Haruchiyo, you pulled him away, asking about tonight’s event. You quickly looked back at your boyfriend who was still standing there and mouthed an apologetic ‘I’m sorry’ as you led your father elsewhere.

Haruchiyo shook his head, indicating that it was okay, before pointing to the bar and heading for its direction. Maybe he’ll get a glass of water to clear his mind

With that, you and Haruchiyo barely saw each other as the night progressed. Apparently our father had invited some of the company’s business partners and introduced them to you, it was just never ending introductions all night and you wanted to be beside Haruchiyo.

You wanted to know how he was doing for the period of time you’d been gone from his side.

You finally got a breather from all the introductions and darted your eyes around the venue, there were a lot of people but you knew you could easily spot Haruchiyo by his pink hair, you craned your neck around to look out for his vibrant hair but you couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Looking for someone?” a voice asked behind you.

You let out a sigh and turned around, “Haru, I’ve been looking for you everywhe—” your sentence was cut short due to the fact that it was not Haruchiyo. “H-heizo… hey, um, nice to see you.” you gave him an uncomfortable smile and tried looking behind him for signs of your boyfriend.

The man in front of you began speaking about topics you couldn’t care less about. You only wanted Haruchiyo. You distractedly scanned your eyes around the venue once again, absentmindedly nodding at whatever he was saying before spotting a familiar head of pink hair, he was headed for the doors.

“H-hey, I’ll talk to you later. ‘Kay?” you gave Heizo a small wave and didn’t wait for his response before hastily making your way to Haruchiyo, who just now slipped past the entrance of the venue and was headed outside.

Little did you know, your hasty movements caught your father’s attention, you were headed outside which piqued his curiosity.

Haruchiyo was leaning against the side of the building, you spotted him as soon as you stepped outside, the cool winter air kissing your exposed skin which made you shiver a bit.

“Haru, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” you took a couple of steps and stopped towards the older man, effectively trapping him against the wall. No matter how much Haruchiyo decided to hide his emotions, you knew his eyes never lied. There was something bothering him, the way his aquamarine gaze avoided yours was a give away.

You frowned at his behaviour. “Baby… talk to me.” you tilted your head and cupped his cheeks, “Did anyone say anything to you?” he brought his warm hands over yours and leaned into your touch, eyes closing as it calmed his mind.

“I just— after your father gave me that stare earlier, I couldn’t help but become more insecure and I just felt like all eyes were on me whenever I walked around there.” Haruchiyo sighed and finally met your worried gaze. Your eyes softened at his expression and you gently ran both your thumbs on either corner of his lips.

Your thumbs traced the raised skin on his cheeks, softly stroking them as if it was the most fragile thing in the world, “I’m so sorry.” you whispered and leaned closer to him, giving his scars a kiss.

Your lips lingered on either side of his mouth, handling them with utmost care. Haruchiyo’s chest warmed at your action and leaned his forehead against yours, once again closing his eyes at the intimacy.

“I love you so much. I don’t think I can ever let you go.” he whispered.

You were about to close the gap between your lips until you felt a harsh grip on your wrist, suddenly pulling you away from Haruchiyo. His eyes shot open as he was met with emptiness in front of him, he looked around to see you standing next to your father, his hand firmly on your wrist. Your expression mirrored his, shocked, scared, and confused.

“Stay the fuck away from my daughter!” your father pointed a harsh finger at him, his face contorted with pure anger.

Haruchiyo began to explain the whole situation while taking a step towards you but your father had cut him off and stood in between, effectively blocking his view of you.

Your desperate attempts to calm your father down and telling him not to make such a scene were ignored, you balled your fists as you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

Your boyfriend noticed your distress and wanted to comfort you badly but like everything else in his life, all he could do was stand there and watch you cry.

“I’m taking you home.” your father glanced back at you before pulling you in the other direction, stumbling upon your heels as tears clouded your eyes. Haruchiyo stood there frozen on his spot, fists clenched by his side as the darkness engulfed your figure.

Just like that, he knew his prayers weren’t answered. He knew that the countless nights he prayed under the stars to have you did absolutely nothing.

Yes, the universe was cruel but why didn’t the stars align for you two? Why did he always have to lose something precious? He was already empty from the beginning but losing you gave him a whole new meaning of emptiness.

That night, you layed in bed staring up at the ceiling, tears still rolling down from your eyes. You haven’t stopped crying since the incident and it also didn’t help that your father argued with you all the way back home, he was the one who drove your car back, not Haruchiyo.

You told him about your relationship with Haruchiyo, to which he simply replied along the lines of ending your relationship with him.

You replayed every single harsh word that came out of his mouth about your boyfriend, it broke your heart thinking that there are some people out there that view Haruchiyo in this light. He didn’t deserve that.

“Out of all the guys you could’ve picked, you picked him?! Some scum from the streets? He has a criminal record for fucksakes! I’ve already been lenient enough when you asked me to hire him as your personal driver but this… I can’t let this slide. Having a relationship with your chauffeur? Absolutely outrageous!”

He told you that you were also getting a new chauffeur and forced you to delete and block all your connections with Haruchiyo which broke your heart even more. There was definitely no getting back from this and you feared you would never see him again. You just wanted to see him.

A small whimper escaped your lips, you felt helpless, you wanted to scream out your lungs but didn’t have the energy to, you just wanted Haruchiyo. Your chest ached and your throat tightened as you cried into your pillow, hands tightly gripping the sheets that engulfed your numb body.

You heard the familiar rev of Haruchiyo’s motorcycle, it was faint but distinguishable. He was here? You figured he was there to grab his motorcycle and head home for the night, your heart raced at the thought of him being so close yet so far. You were about to get off your bed and head for the garage until the roaring of his motorcycle faded into the darkness, he was gone.

If you want to see him, you can. A voice replied in your head.

You blinked your tears away and shot up from your bed, your mind running through the endless possibilities of seeing him. You didn’t know where he lived but you could easily obtain that information from the electronic copy of his job application that he had previously sent. 

Quickly reaching for your phone, you tapped through the ‘files’ application and pulled up the file you needed.

Bingo.

You entered the taxi you called for and never looked back, not fearing for anyone catching you leaving at this hour as your father had returned to the party and most staff were there as well. You didn’t care if you were in your pyjamas, all you cared about was that you were going to see Haruchiyo.

After paying and bidding the taxi driver a thank you, you made your way to his house, double checking the number stated on your phone with the one plastered on the door. You knew he was home because his motorcycle was parked near the front door.

You lifted a hand and gently knocked on it.

Footsteps on the other side of the door could be heard walking closer until it came to a halt. It took a few seconds before you could hear the fumbling of locks, like they already knew who was on the other side of the door.

The door burst open and revealed a dishevelled Haruchiyo, his rosy pink hair was a mess and his eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying.

You caught a distinct whiff of something else that made you scrunch your nose but you weren’t that naïve to not know what it was. There was definitely another reason why his eyes were red.

Haruchiyo laughed to himself, resting a palm over his eyes like he was going crazy, “Fuuuck, I’m so high that I’m even hallucinating right now.” he chuckled to himself, slurring the words that came out of his mouth.

You noticed the rolled joint rested between his fingers of his other hand and let out a heavy sigh.

You remember him telling you that he would occasionally smoke weed to ease the pain he felt but he reassured you that he hasn’t done it for a few months now. It pained you that you were partially the reason for his behaviour.

You wasted no time to wrap your arms around him, tightly hugging him and never wanting to let go. You reassured him that it was in fact not a hallucination and that you were really there with him. Haruchiyo did not believe you until he ran a slender hand down your back, stroking your hair.

The older man began sobbing uncontrollably that you were actually right in front of him and mumbled sentences along the lines of how he missed you so bad and how empty he felt for the past few hours.

You made your way inside and shut the door behind you, still not letting go of him, “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll never leave you.” you sniffled as you buried your face in his chest.

Haruchiyo pulled you both into the couch, his hands firmly situated on your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. He had a lot of questions running through his mind but he was too high to even think about it, all that mattered was that you were there with him.

You circled your arms around his neck and shifted on his lap, trying to find a comfortable spot, “Fuck, don’t do that princess.” Haruchiyo groaned, stilling your hips as he threw his head against the backrest and took a long drag before puffing his lungs out, thick smoke dancing past his lips and evaporating into thin air.

You keenly looked at him, eyes focused on the joint between his fingers.

He noticed your gaze and jutted the joint towards you, a brow lifting in suggestion. You met his clouded stare, eyes droopy and red from intoxication before dropping back down to the joint which emitted wisps of white smoke.

Without any hesitation, you took it from his hand and rested it between your puckered lips, taking a long drag like what Haruchiyo did. It immediately burned your lungs and throat, you couldn’t properly puff out the smoke as you coughed uncontrollably at the foreign sensation in your chest and tears began forming in your eyes.

Haruchiyo stroked your back and slightly chuckled at you, “You took it like a champ.”

He grabbed your hand that held the joint and pulled it closer to his lips before slowly inhaling, his pretty eyes never leaving yours the whole time he did this, and before he exhaled, he placed a hand on your nape and pulled you closer to him. Haruchiyo puffed out smoke past your lips as he gave you open mouthed kisses.

Everything felt so good and light. Your senses were becoming clouded as Haruchiyo did more rounds of blowing smoke into your mouth, you felt light headed, your sense of touch was heightened and you felt horny.

You suddenly felt everything. With the way his warm hands enveloped your neck to the way his lap felt against your thighs.

With intoxication clouding your senses, you didn’t hesitate to swing your leg over his lap and straddle Haruchiyo, to which he merely responded by holding either side of your hips, smirking.

“Haruuu, I want you so bad.” you leaned into his neck, sucking a spot which made him groan.

You started grinding your hips against his as you felt something tingling down there, begging for some kind of friction. Haruchiyo guided your hips against his hard clothed cock, shamelessly moaning at the sensation. Everything felt so good that even as little as grinding against you could get him over the edge.

“Fuck, princess, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into…” he whined as he rested the back of his head against the backrest of the couch, moving your hips back and forth.

You needed more.

You wanted to be closer to Haruchiyo and without thinking, your hands trailed down his chest and into his joggers but before your hands could venture any further, Haruchiyo caught your wrist, “I want to taste you.” he whispered, and kissed your hand.

The two of you messily made your way to his bedroom, lips moulding together and hands tangled with one another.

Haruchiyo softly pushed you onto the soft bed, you made yourself comfortable by scooting up to his pillows before laying down, the room was spinning and your head was pounding but you didn’t care.

He followed suit, crawling up to you and began marking your neck, his large hands making its way inside your pyjama top and grabbing your breast.

“No bra? How naughty…” he chuckled against your neck.

You could only whine at this as he roughly massaged your breasts. You didn’t even know your top was gone until Haruchiyo wasted no time sucking, licking and biting them, giving it all the attention it deserved.

“Haru, please. I just want you.” you grew impatient at his ministrations, he thought you were cute because you clearly had no idea what he was about to give you.

“And you’ll have me… you’ll just have to be a good girl for me first. I want to taste all of you.” he trailed a hand down past your stomach and into your pants. You immediately threw your head back as he circled your clit through your panties, groaning out his name as you tried to close your legs.

“Hmm, so responsive.” Haruchiyo smirked at the state of you as he pried your legs apart.

He wasted no time taking the last pieces of clothing off your body, pulling both your pants and panties down your legs.

Warmth spread up to your cheeks as you were exposed to Haruchiyo, it was your first time doing this and no one had ever seen the entirety of your body.

You closed your legs, suddenly feeling shy as he didn’t bother to hide the stare directed at your wet pussy, “Don’t hide from me now… you wanted this, remember?” he grabbed both of your knees and parted your legs, trailing soft kisses on your inner thigh.

Haruchiyo breathed in your scent as he got closer to your sex. He took experimental licks at your folds and observing your reaction to them, your face was contorted in pleasure and your head was thrown back against his pillows. He took this as an indication to keep going, and he did.

He pressed his mouth against your clit and started sucking like his life depended on it, this earned a loud moan of his name from you which urged Haruchiyo even more.

He slipped his tongue past your folds and explored the warmness of you, you tasted so fucking sweet and he couldn’t get enough of you. He alternated between giving your clit stiff licks and sucking on it which made your hands fly down to his rosy pink tresses and before you knew it, Haruchiyo had brought you to your first orgasm.

You felt a sharp sensation run up your spine as Haruchiyo brought you over the edge, lapping up every single bit of your cum, your vision became white for a second and you swore you saw stars.

Your chest heaved at the intense sensation but you couldn’t help look down at him, he had your cum running down his chin, messy rosy pink hair and heavy lidded eyes.

“I’m not done with you yet, I’m just getting started.”

By the time he brought you to your second orgasm using his fingers, you were already sensitive but you knew what was coming next and you’ve been anticipating this ever since you started grinding on his clothed cock.

Although, you were a bit afraid of his length even though you haven’t seen it, but you’ve surely felt it. Two slender fingers were already too much for you, so you didn’t know what to expect of his cock.

Haruchiyo finally took off all articles of clothing that hid his pretty body, you gaped at his torso, he was definitely on the skinnier side but was well-built. He reached for his joggers and pulled them down along with his brief, he sighed at the sensation that his cock wasn’t being restrained by anything.

Fuck, he was long.

You stared at his stiff cock in all its glory, it wasn’t that thick but his length definitely made up for it. The tip had a pretty shade of pink, just like his lips and was already leaking of precum.

He gave his cock a few strokes before grabbing a condom from the night stand and rolling it down his length, he got on the bed and crawled closer to you.

Haruchiyo sat on his knees and rubbed the tip of his dick at your entrance which earned a whine from you, he got on top of you and started kissing your lips, distracting as he was slowly slipping his dick inside.

“Haru, fuck!” your hands flew to his biceps, gripping them as he pushed further inside, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you anywhere?” his head shot up, concern filling his eyes as he met your glassy gaze, you hastily shook your head and urged him to continue.

With that, Haruchiyo continued pushing in, “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight for me…” he buried his face against your neck, goosebumps arising from his hot pants. You felt an uncomfortable stretch as he continued to push his cock inside your tight heat but at the same time, it felt good. So good.

As he bottomed out, Haruchiyo had to take a breather, you were hugging him so tight that if he moved even the slightest bit, he would come right then and there. He pulled out just a bit and squeezed the base of his cock until the urge to cum just dissipated.

“Please move.” you whined and brought a hand up to his cheek, stroking his scar.

Haruchiyo obeyed and didn’t waste any time before slowly moving in and out of you which caused you to moan loudly and throw your head back against his pillows, your exposed neck gave him the liberty to paint it with even more bruises.

He started to pick up his pace, his balls slapping against your ass and loud squelching sounds could be heard throughout the room.

“F-fuck! You’re so good for me, huh? No wonder why you chose me over them—ngh! You like a man who can give you good dick?” he panted against your ears, sucking and nibbling on them as his thrusts didn’t falter.

You could only moan at his words and claw his back due to the unfamiliar sensation engulfing your body but Haruchiyo wasn’t satisfied with this. “Answer me.” he whispered before biting the side of your neck, harshly.

“A-ah, fuck! Yes! That’s you Haru.” you yelped.

You didn’t even know your eyes were closed until he pulled out of you and was about to whine in protest at his sudden movement, “Wha—” “Face down, ass up for me, pretty girl.” You sat up and turned to face the mattress, bringing your torso down and leaving your ass exposed.

Haruchiyo briefly massaged your ass before pushing back into your cunt and bottoming out all in one go. You balled your fists against his sheets and let out a loud moan, this position was even better, you never knew he could reach inside this deep.

He started moving again, hips loudly slapping against your ass as he matched the thrusts he had previously given you, your moans were definitely a pitch higher and all kinds of sounds spilled from your lips uncontrollably.

You were suddenly roughly grabbed by the back of your neck, resulting in your back pressing against Haruchiyo’s broad chest. Both his palms massaged each of your breasts as he fucked up into you, causing you to throw your head back at his shoulder.

“You’re always so good for me… so pretty.” he whispered, his voice strained indicating that he was close.

“Mm! Only for you Haru—ah!” you reached down and started rubbing fast and tight circles on your clit, wanting to cum with him.

The coil inside you snapped and you started cumming around his cock, fisting your hands against his mattress as the familiar intense sensation runs up your spine. You loudly moaned his name, back arching as the pleasure became too intense.

At the same time, Haruchiyo roughly pushed your face back into the mattress, his thrusts becoming even rougher as he neared his climax.

All it took for him was your clenching walls and he threw his head back in pure bliss, mouth parted as loud shameless moans slipped out, grinding his hips against your ass which pushed his dick even further inside as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

A chain of profanities rolled from his tongue as he shallowly thrusted inside you, milking every last drop of his cum.

The two of you were both spent and sweaty, and how Haruchiyo managed to clean you up was beyond your comprehension. The last thing you saw were his aquamarine eyes and long lashes holding your gaze before sleep took over you, you swore you heard him say ‘I love you’.

The morning came rolling around and your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you saw was Haruchiyo’s peaceful state. He looked so pretty and effortlessly beautiful with the way his long lashes brushed against his cheeks.

You definitely had a keen eye for pretty things.

He looked soft, definitely a complete contrast from his persona last night.

You could get used to waking up to his pretty face every single morning because even though Haruchiyo didn't have anything materialistic to offer you, unlike everyone else, he only had one thing he could truly afford, the one you've been chasing your whole life.

Undivided attention.

Haruchiyo may have not noticed it but his love and attention may have been the most expensive gift you've ever received.

And you knew you’d fight for his love, no matter what it took because you were tired of hiding him from the world.

You wanted to scream your lungs out on a rooftop that you were in love with Haruchiyo Sanzu, the man who offered you nothing and everything at the same time.

wowie, thanks for making it to the very end!

© mitsuyeaah

[beneathsakurashade]

The stage is set, the actors are in place,

"Come, let's begin. The story of Seven Sins and Punishments."

Kanae's 100+ follower event (format based off of @theolivetree123's Welcome to Halloween Town event ^^) The Evil’s Theater, a small theater, in the Queendom of Roses, is hosting their first musical of Seven Sins and Punishments. Originally, the theater was created by a man known as the Collector, he only screened a single film. After he passed the theater fell into disarray, but luckily, it was brought back to life by some very generous donations. And now they have reached out to NRC to extend an invitation for its students to be the leads of their first musical! The lucky students will take on the roles of the Sinners in a fantastical story of life, death and rebirth. There will be seven students to fill the roles of the main Sinners, and a raffle to be held to pick the crucial role of the Servant, a hidden eighth Sinner. And the lead roles are… Superbia - Kanae (The Daughter) Invidia - Riddle (The Tailor) Ira - Jade (The Nemesis) Acedia - Epel (The Princess) Avaritia - Idia (The Judge) Gula - Deuce (The Eater) Luxuria - Silver (The Duke)

After the musical, there's going to be an after party, Waltz of the Departed. Feel free to partake in the snacks and drinks, dance or not to your hearts content. How you enjoy the party is up to you!

Raffle!!

The raffle for the Servant will be held from Sep 8th to Oct 10th The Servant is a very important role, you can't have the tale of the Daughter without her loyal servant! I will use a wheel picker to choose the lucky character, and will draw Kanae and the chosen character 𑁍

Raffle Rules

Only 1 entry per person ᡣ𐭩.

This raffle is followers only please!!

Create your entry and tag it with 8thsinnerraffle

This base is for the raffle only :>

Dress Code

The leads will have their attire provided by the Theater. Guests will attend in formal wear. The Sinner's are all from different times and places, thus their attire will all be different, feel free to put your own spin on it!!

Card background!! (this is for the general event only ^^)

Rules!!

No NSFW Ocs, canon characters, and staff can join. Aka, you can have ur oc play the role of a Sinner ^^. You don’t have to make a card, fics and art is fine too! When you submit your entry, please tag it with #SevenSins&Punishments and @ me!! Multiple people can have characters that share the same role, aka two ocs can play the Tailor.

Event is from today, Sep 8th - Sep 29th. Oct 10th!!!

Can't wait to see what you all come up with ^^

Current Sinners

Yuhua Wei - @distant-velleity

Celine Wilson - @cheerleaderman

Yuu - @13thfairytale

thank you all again for 100+ followers (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ₊˚⊹✩´- I deeply appreciate each and every one of you!! I never thought I'd get this popular, I'm so happy that I got the chance to meet all of you wonderful people (๑>ᴗ<๑).

if the format n such is a bit wonky, my apologies, this is my first time organizing a twst fan event lol feel free to ask if you're confused abt anything ^^ also dividers by me!!

[p1a9u3]

PeepHole Ch.1: Moving Day

Masterpost Ch.1 - Ch.2 Pairing: Dylan Matthews x Fem Oc

Rating: 18+ (mdni)

Genre: Neighbors/Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Fluff, Slow-burn

Summary: Moving isn't as exciting as Amoya thought, plus she may have pissed off her new neighbor.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: (This story takes place in 2024) Mental illness (anxiety, ocd), Violent intrusive thoughts, Language, Age gap (5years), Using phone while driving

Status: Unedited

Author note: This is the first fic that I've ever posted, I've written before but I've never finished anything and published it so don't tear me to shreds, please. I chose to make an oc instead of just writing as a reader mainly because I made a whole character in my head before I wrote this so I decided to just make her an oc, if you would like a post going more into this oc of mine feel free to ask (I might post it anyway because I like her), there is no smut in this chapter btw. Please give me feedback and suggestions, constructive criticism, etc. Don't be a bitch about it though...please. I'm thinking of making this a series POSSIBLY, but I procrastinate a lot so that may never happen. To my fellow troublemakers hopefully, I do Dylan justice and my writing is at least a little bit accurate to his personality. Still, to be fair I'm a fairly new troublemaker having only found out about this man a few weeks ago, so if something isn't accurate please correct me...politely. He's become my new hyper fixation so when I saw there aren't really any fics about him I decided I should make my own so here we are. Anyway with that being said Enjoy <3. Update: Dylan is barely in this chapter

Monday, February 26, 2024 Time: 8:30AM Moving out was less relieving than you thought it would be. Having been by your mother's side for almost all your life, you'd gotten comfortable always having someone around.

'You can't live with your parents forever'

People would remind you whenever the topic of anyone's living situation would be brought up. Being twenty-seven and still living with your mother wasn't something you wanted to keep telling people, no one would take you seriously. Though your mother never pushed for you to move out, never mentioned it actually. You think you know why. You never say anything though, so you deal with the slight embarrassment, and ignore the judgmental stares you get whenever someone brings it up.

'They don't know our relationship'

More excuses you make up to justify your obstinance; and to mask the anxiety you're feeling as finish up packing your U-Haul. You had finished packing your stuff from your shared apartment and were now finishing the few boxes you had in storage. Now in the elevator mustering up the strength to carry the last two boxes back down to the truck. Grabbing the lock you had left on the floor, you place it on top of one of the boxes and stack the box onto the second one, bending down and lifting with a soft grunt. Long strides carrying you to the elevator, you push the down button with your foot. The doors open soon after, you step inside setting the boxes down as you push the bottom floor and wait. Pushing off the wall as the doors open you pick up the boxes once again, you quickly load them up into the U-Haul before grabbing the padlock from on top of the box, and then heading to the front desk of the storage building.

"Here, the unit is clean and empty." You smile at the woman as she takes the lock and keys with a thank you.

Turning on your heels you walk back to your U-Haul giving everything a once-over before locking it all up, now turning your attention to the hitch attached to the back of the Truck where your precious car is hitched too. It was a black and cherry red 1993 Nissan 240SX with a red interior, you had seen it while driving with your mom past a repair shop when you were 25, back then it had no windshield or wheels. You won't lie and say you fixed it yourself but you did invest all the money you had at that time to fix it up and color it how you wanted; you still would say it was worth it. Checking the hitch and chains attached to the bottom of the car making sure everything was set and ready.

"Everything looks good?" Your mother said making you jump

"Yah! A warning ma, please! And yes everything looks good, I packed up the last two boxes and returned the keys and lock to the front desk while you were in the bathroom." You let out a breath calming your heart from the scare you just had, your mom snickering next to you. You turn to her rolling your eyes playfully as you walk to the front of the truck, your mom following behind you.

"Good, let's get on the road." Your mom hops into the passenger seat and rolls down the window. "I wanna get home by Wednesday."

You climb into the driver's seat, buckling your seatbelt then checking your mirrors. You two had agreed on driving to your new apartment, taking turns every 5 hours, once you got there she'd help you unload and unpack on Tuesday, and your mom would then fly back to New Orleans on Wednesday. The more you think about it the more you feel yourself panic a bit.

"Okay."

Time: 9:00AM Starting the car, you let out a breath putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot of the storage building. You could tell your mom was trying to keep herself calm by the way she would rub her right thigh with her right hand, it was a nervous tick she passed down to you. Unfortunately, you were just as nervous, so you decided to turn on the playlist you and your mom made while eating the night before, mixes of all kinds of genres put into one playlist to keep you both entertained during the drive. Pulling off the main road and merging onto the freeway, you glance over to your mom to see her smiling wide looking back at you. She has that look in her eyes, you know it well.

"Its happening ma." You smile back at your mom then look back to the road

Your mother places her hand on your thigh, letting out a long sigh and a soft squeeze before returning it back to her own lap. You see her wipe a single tear from your peripheral; you don't acknowledge it. She'll start bawling the second you tell her not to cry. So you pretend not to see it and start singing along to Erykah Badu, your mom turns the music up a bit and starts singing along too. You smile to yourself as you glance out your side window, watching as familiar buildings pass by in a blur, You think you'll miss this place. No, you know you will, but a part of you is kinda excited, relieved almost. You've silently always longed to live on your own, but another part of you calls you selfish for even wanting that until now

'How could want to leave your mother'

You know it's normal to want to move out of your parent's home, every grown adult has to move out at some point, and twenty-seven is a perfectly normal age to do so, You wanted to move when you were twenty-four. Hell, some people live with their parents till they are far in their thirties.

'But you know your mother may need you right'

All your brothers have moved out, they are doing good on their own, and you're the only one left. It was only a matter of time; you tell yourself. Your mom will be fine, she's dating a new man who treats her great and takes care of her. Hell he tried to hire a moving crew to move all your stuff, but you wanted to do it yourself and your mom wasn't going to let you drive almost halfway across the country by yourself.

'you could've found a place closer to her you know'

Phoenix, Arizona. You chose Phenix simply because it was affordable for you and close to LA, your mom agreed it was a good choice. There is work in LA, California is just so expensive, so you chose the next best thing. The apartment is nice from what you saw as well, one bedroom, two baths with a study. It was perfect for you.

Time: 11:23AM The drive was going well so far, your mother eating a bag of chips she packed along with all the other snacks and drinks. You were eating a Honeybun, one of your favorite snacks, and drinking water. Your mom had turned off the music and started watching YouTube with mostly commentary so you could listen and drive, Right now a video was playing talking about some ice cream drama in North Dakota. Author note: if you watched this video featuring Dylan is in Trouble, I know it's technically in the future but I don't care, this is all fake anyway. You found it interesting and kinda funny, laughing every now and then when your mom would pause to add her opinion. About two-thirds of the way into the video you glance down at the screen, there are two guys now instead of one, and one of them is wearing glasses, you glance back down looking at the title of the video 'Insane Local Ice Cream Shop Drama (w/ Dylan Is In Trouble)' You made a mental note of the second guy's name for later, his voice was nice you told yourself, he was also fine as fuck. You leaned your seat back as far as it would go, which wasn't very far, getting comfortable. You still have two more hours left to drive.

Time: 12:35PM Your mom had fallen asleep about ten minutes ago, YouTube was still playing, The next video had been the same guy as before. You looked down for a second, looking at the title of the video that had been playing for about fifteen minutes. 'Guessing Finales After ONE Episode (ft. Dylan Is In Trouble)' You smile to yourself a bit recognizing the name at the end of the title, you let the video play just listening to the guy talk for ten more minutes. You caught yourself smiling again when you recognized the second guy's voice as he joined in for the rest of the video, you took a sip of your water glancing down at the video, seeing him pop on screen whenever he had something to say

"he's funny." You mutter to yourself quietly, thinking out loud.

The video had ended and your lips fell back into their original position, as an ad played before the next queued-up video, you looked down at your GPS. 1322 miles to go; you let out a sigh.

'200 miles closer to leaving you mom'

She was helping you unpack, so you technically wouldn't be leaving her really. If anything she was leaving you since she had to fly back home. You prop your left elbow on the open window, your left hand holding the steering wheel, and your right hand comes down to your thigh, rubbing small circles back and forth.

'What happens if Devon goes back home'

Your oldest brother Devon was working at a mental facility. He was on his medication and was doing good, he managed to get a job there and has been making decent money. He was doing fine, He is doing fine.

'What if he stops taking his medication again.'

They will keep tabs on him, they know his habits, his symptoms, He is fine.

'Has another episode and gets out'

That wouldn't happen. He's fine

'He'll be there when mom gets back'

No.

"Hes gonna ki-'

-beep! beep! beep!-

Time: 2:00PM Your mom's alarm goes off, making you jump a bit. Reaching over to turn it off, your mom moans a bit as she wakes up from her short nap, stretching her arms a bit as she yawns.

"Jeste li spremni za promjenu." she yawns out, going for a sip of her water ( translation: Are you ready to switch)

Your mother's Croatian tends to slip when she's just woken up, or delirious. You nod your head looking at the next exit sign to find a gas station, spotting a Love's off the side of the freeway. Slipping off the freeway you pull up to the gas station before parking next to a pump.

"Bathroom?" You look over at your mom, she nods, unbuckling her seatbelt and hopping out of the truck, you do the same.

You both enter opposing stalls to relieve yourselves of all the water you had been drinking, washing your hands after. Your mother heads back to the truck to pump the gas as you browse the aisles for any extra snacks, spotting a honeybun you instinctively grab one, then two, and head to the cashier. You place your honeybuns on the counter and then look up at the cashier who seems to be invested in something on her phone, she wasn't wearing headphones phone volume at maybe thirty percent, you could hear what she was watching. You recognize the voice, the cashier finally looks up from her phone quickly apologizing for not paying attention.

"Oh I'm so sorry, will this be all" She quickly rings up the two honeybuns.

"No you're fine, that'll be it actually." You dismissively wave your hand pulling out your wallet to pay.

Looking down you notice her phone, she had put it on the counter, and the video on it had been paused but on the screen was that guy again, though it seemed to be a video of his own this time. You pull out some cash and hand it to the young woman behind the counter, she takes the cash, counts it, and then goes to get your change.

"No, it's fine, keep the change" Flashing a smile then grabbing your honeybuns you take another glance at the women's screen before it turns off from being left alone for too long.

Opening the passenger seat door, you climb into the seat buckling yourself in. Pulling out of the gas station your mom pulls off back onto the freeway continuing your journey. You pull out the bag you had brought for little activities, pulling out your book of choice. You had splurged at a Barnes and Noble a few weeks before you began packing, picking up a bunch of books you had either heard good things about or had been wanting to read. Red Rising was one of the books, it was also the one you were currently holding.

"I'm gonna put my headphones on, so you can listen to whatever you want." You tell your mom as you put your headphones on and pull out your phone.

You had gotten the book on Audible a while back and wanted to read and listen at the same time. Pressing play you turn to the first chapter and begin reading as the narrator spoke. Your mom seemed to have put music on, you could feel the bass as she turned up the volume and began singing along.

Time: 10:56PM Hours had passed, it was your turn now with two hours left till your next switch. Your mother was knocked out, lightly snoring as you drove in silence, you had stopped reading once you had switched. You also decide to put off reading it until you were moved in, the book had grabbed your attention, so much so, that you wanted to be able to focus on it solely; so you chose to wait. You had a couple hundred miles left to go and things were sinking in more as you drove silently. Your mind doing its usual thing, making you worry about things that most likely won't happen, even if it did, you know it wouldn't be your fault. You couldn't help but think maybe it would be though, it was a dumb thought but you couldn't help it

'What was that guys name again'

Your brain blanked for a second, random but ok, your brain goes back to the YouTube video your mom had been watching, that cashier was watching him as well. Dylan is in Trouble, you wonder what kind of videos he makes, most likely commentary. You pull your phone out glancing down and go to YouTube, you use the voice to text and hold your phone up to your mouth.

"Dylan is in trouble"

You press search, going back and forth between looking at your phone and watching the road. You look down to find his channel, press his icon, and scroll through some of his videos. Movie commentary is what you mostly see, occasionally you'd spot something different, you decided you'd dive into his channel later when you weren't driving.

Time: 5:00AM You were in the driver's seat, you had let your mom sleep more after she had been driving for about three hours. She was up now though, you could tell things were starting to catch up to her again. She was fidgeting a lot more now, well so were you, she looked very tense. She helped you find this apartment, but you assume she wants to see the neighborhood for herself, in person, wants to see how good the security is and what the neighbors are like. It's only natural, she's a mother and her only daughter is moving twenty hours away from her. You look down at your phone, your GPS says you are pulling up now, you look around the area, it was very nice, wasn't too far from the city. You spot the complex to the left, it was pretty big with multiple sections with apartments, you were building three, kind of in the middle of everything. You pull into the complex parking in front of the leasing office to speak to your landlord and to get your keys, your mom comes with you of course, sizing everything up.

"Hi welcome to Arts District Apartments, it's Amaya correct, my name is George?" An old-looking man stands from his desk, his hand reaching out to shake yours

"Thank you, George, it's Amoya actually" You reach out and shake his hand with a smile.

You two talk a bit about the complex and its rules etc. Your mom chimed in every now and then to ask her questions. Before you know it you're unloading the truck into your new apartment, you're realizing now that you didn't have as much stuff as you thought. The last thing you had left was your bed, you and your mom had been doing well with just the two of you, but after you two had gotten the mattress inside your mother's back began to bother her. Now you had your bed frame, you told your mom to relax for now and that you could get the frame up yourself. Partial lie, you previously took apart the bed frame and so there were mainly long pieces that weren't too heavy except the backboard, that thing was heavy as fuck, luckily you had a dolly at the storage building to help you carry it out, but now you have to carry it to the elevator and down the hall. You managed to get it down from the truck, and from there you lifted it and sped walked to the elevator, almost dropping the bed frame on your foot as you set it down to push the button. The doors had closed on you twice as you tried to pick the frame back up and lift it into the elevator, but alas you made it, now on the third floor and outside the elevator. You took pride in your body, you considered yourself strong, regularly went to the gym, and you would say your legs were the strongest part of your body, with that being said, you tried to make as little noise as possible since it was still early in the morning, you lost your footing. You were almost there, your door being right in front of you; but you fell. Landing on the door behind you hitting your head with a very loud thud.

"Bumbo." You whisper yelled at yourself in Jamaican as you set the frame down and leaned off of the door. (translation: Fuck)

Holding the frame upright you walk around it reaching for your door, the frame slipping from your fingers and falling against your neighbor's door again. You prayed that your new neighbor was either a very deep sleeper or wasn't home right now, though maybe you didn't pray hard enough. You lift the bed frame from your neighbor's door, getting your phone to get your mom to hold the door open for you so you can slide it the rest of the way inside. Stopping, you hear the door behind you click open. Your bed frame blocked your view of whoever had stepped out, but you could hear him.

Ch.1 - Ch.2

Updated Author note: Hopefully this was an enjoyable first chapter or part. The apartment is just a random apartment complex I saw on Zillow, everything in this is all fictional besides the YouTube videos and things that are obviously real. Anyway, I have decided to make this a series, I've gone into too much detail on little things like Amoya's intrusive thoughts and all that, and it'd be a waste to shorten and delete half of what I put and speed through everything, Amoya's intrusive thoughts and anxiety is a trait I added from myself, so you'll notice a lot of internal thinking and scenarios she makes up in her head. Hopefully, the idea is as cool as what I thought of in my head. If this does well, I will upload the other chapters one after the other, If it does bad I'll just delete everything, but please be patient I procrastinate a lot and I want the writing to be good. Please be honest and let me know how you all feel about this, if you like the writing, the main character, the pacing, the storyline, length, anything, and everything, I need criticism but don't be a bitch about it.

[shortnspidey]

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE AWAKENING

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 4.5K

A/N: happy October everyone! 🍂 this chapter is all over the place: tiny amounts of angst, more of Lyra and Eddie, and some familiar faces as we set the scene for the main events of season two!

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The drive home was silent, except for the occasional snore from Billy. Lyra's grip on the steering wheel tightened, determination setting in. She knew she had to help her brother find a way out of this destructive cycle, no matter how hard it would be. Upon arriving home later that night, more like one in the morning, Lyra had to maneuver herself and a staggering Billy inside the house without alerting Susan and especially Neil. The once rowdy Halloween night was now quiet, with only the faint rustling of leaves and distant sounds of traffic breaking the silence. Lyra carefully unlocked the front door, cringing at the slight creak it made.

She glanced back at Billy, who was doing his best to stay upright as he basically clung onto her leather clad shoulder. His weight was heavy, and his breath smelled of alcohol, a stark reminder of the night’s events. The hallway was dimly lit, casting long shadows that seemed to dance with every step they took. Lyra could hear the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room, each tick amplifying her anxiety. She whispered soothing words to Billy, trying to keep him calm and quiet as they made their way to his room. "Holy shit," The voice made her squeeze her eyes shut letting out a shaky exhale.

Only when she managed to turn around and noticed Max standing in the hallway instead of her step mother and father she was able to breathe properly. "Is he okay?" Max whispered her brows furrowing with concern. "Max, quick," Lyra whisper-yelled, completely aware that Neil or Susan could get up at any moment. "Help me get him into his room." Max nodded, rushing over to take some of Billy's weight off Lyra. Together, they carefully navigated the narrow hallway, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The house seemed to hold its breath, every creak of the floorboards sounding like a thunderclap in the silence.

As they reached Billy's room, Lyra pushed the door open with her hip, the hinges protesting softly. They guided Billy to his bed, easing him down gently. He mumbled something unintelligible, eyes glazed and unfocused. Lyra pulled off his shoes and leather jacket, covering him with a blanket, her movements tender despite her exhaustion. Just as she was about to get up from the edge of the bed, Billy spoke, "I-I'm sorry." He slurred, reaching for Lyra's hand. His grip was weak, but she could feel the desperation in his touch. "Go to sleep, we'll talk about this in the morning." She assured her voice soft and soothing. She squeezed his hand gently before letting go, watching as his eyes slowly close.

Lyra took a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly leave her body. She glanced at Max, who was standing by the door, her eyes wide with concern. "Will he be okay?" She asked again, her voice barely above a whisper. Lyra nodded, forcing a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine, Max. Just needs to sleep it off." With Billy finally settled, Lyra and Max tiptoed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them. "Any chance you'll tuck me into bed too?" By the tone of her voice, Lyra could tell Max was joking yet there was a hint of genuine fatigue in her eyes. Lyra chuckled softly, giving Max a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

"Come on Cherry, let's get you into bed." She coaxed throwing her arm over Max's shoulders guiding her towards her room. Without hesitation, Max climbed into bed, pulling her blanket up to her chin, as Lyra tucked the blanket around her snugly. "Goodnight, Lyra," Max yawned, nuzzling into her blanket. Lyra leaned over to give the redhead a kiss on the forehead, her lips brushing softly against Max's warm skin. "Goodnight, Max," She whispered, turning off the light and closing the door gently. As she walked back to her own room, Lyra felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that everyone was finally at rest. The quiet of the house enveloped her, and she allowed herself to relax, feeling the weight of the day lift from her shoulders.

The following morning Lyra woke up to a raging headache. Sitting up in her bed, she groaned rubbing her sleep ridden eyes. The following morning, Lyra woke up to a raging headache. Sitting up in her bed, she groaned, rubbing her sleep-ridden eyes. The sunlight streaming through the curtains felt like daggers piercing her skull. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly, trying to steady herself. As she walked towards the bathroom, the events of the previous night flashed through her mind. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would help clear her head. The coolness was refreshing, but it did little to alleviate the pounding in her temples.

Luckily it seemed that both Neil and Susan had already left for work, so that was one less thing she had to worry about. After grabbing the first items of clothes she saw in her closet not bothering with her appearance, Lyra made her way to the kitchen, where she found Max already up, nursing a cup of orange juice. "Morning," Max greeted her, looking more alert than Lyra felt. "How are you feeling?" She asked, her eyes filled with concern. "Like I got hit by a truck," Lyra replied, reaching for a glass of water and some painkillers. She swallowed them quickly, hoping for some relief. "How's Billy?" She questioned turning on the coffee machine. "Still asleep," Max said, her voice soft.

"He was out cold when I checked on him earlier." Lyra nodded, grateful for the quiet moment. She took a seat at the kitchen table, resting her head in her hands. "Thanks for helping out last night, Max. I don't know what I would've done without you." Max smiled, her eyes warm with understanding. "Well, I couldn't just let him crush you.” She joked, her laughter light and infectious. "Go get changed, knowing Billy he probably has a raging hangover and you know what that means." Max nodded, standing up and heading back towards her room. "Make sure you put your helmet in your backpack." Lyra muttered making Max turn around with a smile on her face. "We're going out on your motorcycle?" She asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up with anticipation. "You bet we are," Lyra replied with a wink.

"I just have to get it back from a friend, but after that me and you are getting milkshakes and burgers at Benny's after school." Max practically beamed with happiness. “Awesome, thanks Lyra, you’re the best!” Lyra couldn’t contain her smile, hearing Max call her the best was the dopamine she needed, a small but significant affirmation that made her heart swell. The pounding in her head had subsided enough so that she could get up and make herself a much needed cup of coffee, glancing at the clock, noticing that they had just enough time to get everything done before school. A few moments later just as she predicted, a bare chested Billy came out from his room, a scowl present on his face. "Well, good morning to you," Lyra greeted him, her tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Billy grumbled something incoherent, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off the pounding headache from last night’s escapades. The scene was almost comical, and despite the tension, Lyra couldn’t help but chuckle softly. She reached for a coffee mug on the shelf, pouring some coffee in it before sliding it over to where he stood. "Thanks, and I'm sorry" He mumbled grabbing the cup of coffee from her hand. His eyes were bloodshot, and the stubble on his face was more pronounced in the harsh morning light. Lyra raised a brow urging him to continue. "Last night, you said we could talk in the morning," He paused motioning that the sun was out through the curtains. "It's morning, so can we talk about it?" He deadpanned, making Lyra hold back her tongue at making a snarky reply.

"I thought I told you that you were forgiven." Billy rolled his eyes, the frustration evident in his furrowed brow. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the strands sticking up in all directions. "Come on, Lyra, I wasn't that shitfaced to realize you were still upset at me." He abandoned his coffee, the steam rising from the cup in delicate tendrils, stepping toe to toe with his sister who looked unimpressed. "What do I gotta do to get you to stop it with the silent treatment?" Billy's voice was tinged with desperation, his eyes searching hers for any sign of forgiveness. Lyra crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing as she tapped her finger on her chin. It was a childish gesture, but she was determined to make him grovel. "How about not be an asshole?" Lyra shot back, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Billy turned to the last tactic he knew Lyra couldn't resist. Physical touch. A small grin broke on his face as he pulled her into an embrace. His arms wrapped around her tightly, almost lifting her off the ground. "Forgive me yet?" He questioned, squeezing her to his chest. He could feel her tense up, but he held on, hoping his warmth would break through her icy demeanor. "Are you done being a reckless asshole?" She retorted, her voice muffled against his chest. Billy chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I love you too, sunshine." God damn him. He always knew how to get under her skin and melt her defenses at the same time. Lyra's resolve wavered, and she let out a reluctant sigh. "Okay," Lyra huffed, fighting to get out of his muscled embrace. She pushed against his chest, but his grip was firm. "Get off of me, you reek of alcohol," She chastised, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

Billy finally released her, his grin never fading, and Lyra couldn't help but roll her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite herself. "Go get dressed," She instructed, her tone softening just a bit. "I know you have basketball practice today, so you can take a shower at school." She waved her hand dismissively, trying to maintain her stern facade, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "Yes ma'am," He replied with a playful salute, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He turned on his heel and headed towards his room, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the hallway. Lyra watched him go, shaking her head with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. Despite everything, he was still her brother, and she couldn't stay mad at him for too long.

Lyra anxiously waited for the end of the day, looking forward to her girls' day with Max. Throughout class, she found herself fumbling with anything to make the day go by faster. Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of her desk, and she doodled absentmindedly in the margins of her notebook. The clock seemed to move at a snail's pace, each tick echoing in her mind like a taunt. She glanced around the classroom, her eyes flitting from the teacher's monotonous lecture to the window. The anticipation bubbled inside her, making it hard to focus on the lesson. As the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the school day, Lyra practically leaped out of her seat.

She gathered her things in a hurry, her heart racing with excitement. As she opened her locker to retrieve her helmet, she noticed a familiar figure a few lockers from hers. The bustling hallway was filled with students getting ready to go home, their voices blending into a cacophony of chatter and laughter, but she immediately recognized Eddie Munson’s curly hair and leather jacket amongst the crowds. The one person she was hoping to run into. With a few short strides, she made her way towards him, leaning against his locker. Eddie, to preoccupied with finding his Hellfire notebook, was oblivious to the blonde girl who was only a few feet away from him. She could see the intensity in his eyes as he rummaged through his things, muttering under his breath about missing dice and character sheets.

“Hey stranger.” She greeted, stifling a laugh as she watched Eddie jump, clutching onto the door of his locker as if it were his lifeline. His eyes widened in shock, and for a split second, he looked like he might actually faint. "Jesus H. Christ!" He exasperated, his voice echoing slightly in the now quieter hallway. “You always sneak up on people like that?” He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, his hand still gripping the locker door. Lyra grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Only the ones I like," She replied, leaning casually against the lockers. Eddie's expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head in disbelief. The bustling sounds of students hurrying to their next class filled the air, but for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.

Eddie finally let go of the locker door, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "You know, one of these days, you're going to give me a heart attack," He scolded, yet it was anything but malicious. "I see the dramatics are still in order," Lyra just grinned, knowing full well that their playful banter was quickly becoming one of the highlights of her day. His eyes zoned in to the helmet in her hand, his curiosity piqued. "I'm guessing you want your bike back?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "If you don't mind, I promised my sister I'd take her out after school." Eddie's expression softened, and he reached out to gently take the helmet from her, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. "Alright, come on," He coaxed, motioning for her to follow him. They walked side by side through the now empty school hallways, their footsteps echoing off the linoleum floors.

Outside, the sun was beginning to dip, casting a warm golden glow over the parking lot. Eddie led her to his old, beat-up van parked in the far corner. He fished out his keys and unlocked the back doors with a practiced flick of his wrist. The doors creaked open, revealing a cluttered but organized space now void of all band equipment, Lyra's motorcycle securely attached and in tact. "She's all safe and sound, made sure to actually drive the speed limit last night," Eddie assured with a wink. "Hold this," Eddie continued, handing Lyra the helmet back as he climbed into the van. He moved a few things around, making space to pull out her bike. The van's interior was a chaotic mix of tools, spare parts, and random knick-knacks, yet everything had its place. The scent of motor oil and metal filled the air, a testament to Eddie's love for tinkering.

"You really shouldn't leave this with me. Who knows, maybe one day, I'm going to end up riding off into the sunset with it," He joked, flashing her a grin over his shoulder. His hands worked deftly, unhooking the straps that secured the bike. Lyra laughed, shaking her head. "Like I'd let you get that far," She retorted, watching as he carefully maneuvered the bike out of the van. She couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he handled it, his movements smooth and confident. The bike gleamed in the fading sunlight, a testament to Eddie's careful handling. Once the bike was out, Eddie handed it over to her, making sure it was steady before letting go. "There you go, all set," He said, dusting off his hands. “Thank you,” She breathed out hoping that Eddie could tell how grateful she was.

"I'm no stranger to family drama, glad I could help." He shrugged, melting under her stare, yet still portrayed his tough guy demeanor. He expected Lyra to immediately take off, yet to his surprise she leaned against the side of his van, her cerulean blue eyes locking with his chocolate doe ones. "So what's Hellfire?" Eddie looked at her as if she had grown two heads, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "It's only the most epic Dungeons & Dragons group in town," He explained, his voice tinged with excitement. The passion in his eyes was unmistakable as he continued, "We've got a campaign going that's been running for months now. It's intense, full of twists and turns. You should come by sometime and check it out." Lyra raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected revelation.

Her curiosity was piqued as she tried to imagine Eddie, the tough guy with a rebellious streak, immersed in a world of fantasy and adventure. The idea seemed almost surreal. "Dungeons & Dragons, huh?" Eddie smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Trust me, it's a blast," He assured, his voice filled with conviction. "We get together every Friday night, roll some dice, and dive into a world of fantasy and adventure. It's not the satanic cult this shit hole makes it out to be, but don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to uphold." Lyra couldn't help but chuckle at his words. The image of Eddie, the so-called bad boy, passionately defending a game that involved imaginary worlds and mythical creatures, was both amusing and endearing.

“Sounds like you take it pretty seriously.” She remarked, her smile widening. "Oh, sweetheart you have no idea." Eddie chuckled, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea," he replied, his tone both playful and earnest. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's not just a game. It's an escape, a chance to be heroes, to face down dragons and save kingdoms." Taking her silence as judgement instead of admiration for his honesty, Eddie quickly backpedaled, his defense mechanisms on full alert. "Shit, I totally geeked out there, huh?" He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. Lyra was quick to shake her head.

"Not at all, if anything it's fascinating to see you so passionate about Hellfire. With all that enthusiasm, I bet you make an excellent Dungeon Master." Sanatic cult leader, Freak, the list went on. Nobody had ever described Hellfire as fascinating. "Wait," He paused taking a second for her previous words to sink in. "How do you know what a Dungeon Master is?" Lyra shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not as naive about D&D as you might think, Rockstar.” He quickly regained his composure, before Lyra could notice how much the damn nickname had affected him. “I’m certainly impressed and flattery works on me.” He grinned saccharinely playfully nudging her with his shoulder. Just as Lyra was about to retort she watched as the sky, which had been painted with hues of orange and pink, now looked like a storm was brewing, with ominous clouds rolling in.

The air grew cooler, and a slight breeze rustled the leaves around them. “You okay?” Eddie questioned, sensing a sense of déjà vu as he caught the worried expression on Lyra’s face. Almost as if it was second nature, Lyra reached out and grasped Eddie's arm gently, her eyes widening upon noticing the time. "Max is never this late, I'm going to go check on her." She thought aloud, anxiety flooding her body. "I'll go with you." Eddie offered, his concern evident in his voice. Lyra shook her head. "No, Eddie it's fine." She assured him, her tone firm yet appreciative. "I'll see you tomorrow." She promised, quickly mounting her motorcycle and trekking the short distance up the hill to Hawkins Middle. The sky grew darker, the ominous clouds hanging low and heavy. As she arrived at the field a few feet away from the school, the eerie silence was almost deafening.

Lyra dismounted her motorcycle and cautiously approached the entrance, her heart pounding in her chest. That's when she noticed a young boy, standing out in the middle of the field. "Hello," She called out, yet he didn't respond standing in the same rigid position. "Any chance you've seen a redhead girl on a skateboard around?" To her surprise he didn't reply, standing in the exact position, not moving a muscle. "Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?" The boy was far from okay. Immediately stepping closer Lyra noticed that his whole body was spasming, his eyes rolled back into his head. She reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on the boy’s shoulders. “Hey,” She coaxed gently so she wouldn’t spook him.

“Can you hear me?” She gasped, feeling his body shake more violently under her shoulders. "Will!" She heard someone call from behind her. Lyra glanced back at the boy in front of her, realizing this must be Will. His spasms were growing more intense as the seconds ticked by, his skin feeling unnaturally hot under her hand. Not even two seconds after, Lyra turned around to see a group of kids rushing towards her their faces etched with worry. She let out a breath of relief upon seeing Max alongside them. "I think he's having another episode." She overheard a raven haired boy exclaim, his voice tinged with panic. "I got him." Upon seeing the adult woman who looked like she could fall apart any minute, Lyra moved away from Will standing beside Max who immediately embraced her. Both sisters' eyes locked onto him, their hearts heavy with concern.

The group watched as Joyce Byers called out to her son, her voice wavering with a mix of hope and desperation. "Will," She coaxed, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him softly. But her touch felt distant, like a fading echo in the back of his mind. "Sweetie, wake up! It's Mom," She tried once more, her voice cracking with emotion. "Will, wake up! Can you hear me?" Joyce's voice cracked with desperation as she tried to reach her son her pleas growing more frantic with each passing second. Will's body continued to convulse, his limbs jerking uncontrollably each movement more violent than the last. "It's Mom. Please wake up! It's me!" Almost as if waking up from a trance, Lyra and the group watched as Will gasped, his eyes fluttering open. The sudden intake of breath seemed to pull him back from the edge of an unseen abyss.

Joyce did not hesitate for even a moment, wrapping her arms around her son in a fierce embrace, holding him so tightly as if he might disappear if she let go. "Thank goodness," Lyra muttered, letting out a breath she had been holding for what felt like an eternity. Her shoulders sagged with relief, the tension finally releasing from her body. The group around them began to relax, their worried expressions softening as they realized Will was safe, at least for now. The tension in the air dissipated slightly, replaced by a tentative sense of relief. Lyra scanned the faces around her, noticing the mix of curiosity and caution in their eyes. "Who are you?" A curly-haired boy asked, his gaze skeptical as he looked her up and down. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to discern her intentions.

“Dustin! That’s rude!” The dark-skinned boy standing next to him seethed through his teeth, his eyes darting between Lyra and the others. Before Lyra could find the words to introduce herself, Max stepped forward, her voice steady and confident. "This is my older sister, Lyra," She declared, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "Did you say Lyra?" The entire groups attention turned to Joyce who was now eyeing the blonde girl a sense of familiarity in her eyes. Her eyes softened, as if recalling a distant memory. "Yes ma'am, that's me," Lyra confirmed, her voice respectful yet firm. Joyce's face lit up with recognition. "My son, Jonathan, say's you're very helpful. Always there whenever he seems to find himself in trouble." The warmth in her words was palpable, and it was clear that Lyra had made a lasting impression.

"Happy to help." Lyra assured her, her voice warm and sincere. She offered a gentle smile, hoping to dissolve any remaining tension. "I'm Joyce, it's certainly nice to put a name to a face," Joyce replied, her tone softening as she tugged Will into her side protectively. Her eyes were filled with gratitude and a hint of relief. "Thank you for trying to help my boy." Lyra shook her head. "You don't need to thank me, I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Joyce's eyes lingered on Lyra for a moment longer, as if she wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. She gave a small, appreciative nod instead. "Well, I should get Will home, it's getting late." Will looked up at his mother, then back at Lyra. "Take care, Will," Lyra called out with a kind smile. Joyce squeezed Will's shoulder, guiding him towards where she had parked.

"Ready to go?" Lyra asked Max, who, like the boys, had her eyes locked onto Joyce and Will. She noticed the slight tremor in Max's hands and the way her jaw clenched, subtle signs that she had been shaken up by the events. Hell, she was still trying to grasp what had just occurred herself. Max tore his gaze away from the departing figures and nodded. "Yeah, let's get out of here," She replied, her voice steady but quieter than usual. As they walked back to where her motorcycle was parked, Lyra’s gaze locked onto the boys she had just met. They were whispering among themselves, casting furtive glances in her direction. "Those boys giving you trouble?" Lyra asked, motioning over to the group.

They quickly huddled back together, their voices dropping to hushed tones as soon as they were out of hearing range. Max's face tightened, and she averted her eyes, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her helmet. "No," She replied quickly, but her voice lacked conviction. Lyra could tell something was off. Max's usual confident demeanor was replaced by a shadow of uncertainty. She wanted to tell Lyra what was actually happening, yet something seemed to be holding her back. Maybe it was fear, or perhaps she didn't fully understand the situation herself. The tension in the air was palpable, and Lyra's protective instincts kicked in. "Alright," Lyra muttered softly, giving Max a reassuring smile. "Let's get out of here." She revved the engine, the powerful vibrations coursing through her body. As they sped away, the wind whipped through their hair, carrying away the unease of the moment.

[481mclarg]

Drunk together. | LN4

★ Let's get drunk together so I can kiss you and blame it on the vodka.

FANFIC + SMAU « Eng & Esp »

Lando Norris x Male!Oc Former Rider.

« K » I have this AU posted in Spanish on Wattpad as a oneshot, but adding a bit more SM to the SMAU I think it's too long, so I'll post it in a few parts.

Warnings: (mention) drunk sex. Suggestive content, idiots in love, lack of communication (?)

★ Chapters: One. | Two. | Three. | Four. | Five. | Six. | Seven. | Eight. ★

🇦🇷 Lucas Blondel as... EZEQUIEL TORRES.

📱 @/ezzetorres37

EZE . . . 28 y.o: 5 February '96. aquarius. » Moto3 champion 🏍🏆 ; retired Argentine rider 🏁🩺, injured; homosexual 🏳️‍🌈.

( + Pedro Acosta is the one in the photos used when talking about Eze's career & random guys from pinterest).

🇬🇧 Lando Norris as... LANDO NORRIS.

📱 @/landonorris

LAN . . . 25 y.o: 13 November '99. virgo. » 🧡McLaren Racing Limited driver ; 🇬🇧 current F1 british driver🏎🏁 ; bisexual ‼️.

December 2024.

          Mutual friends made Ezequiel Torres, a former rider retired after suffering an leg injury and current mechanic, meet the driver of the current Formula 1 constructors' champion team, Lando Norris.

          Everything Ezequiel knew about Formula cars was thanks to his friend, Sacha Fenestraz, who used to talk to him about his own races and watch other together when they managed to coincide their schedules and meet on weekends to eat.

          It wasn't his main interest, it had always been motorcycles. A passion inherited from his family. Nevertheless, he did not deny that the world of four wheels was just as captivating.

          Anyway, upon meeting Lando he never had to worry about only knowing the basics about Formula 1.

          The British spoke a lot. It was interesting to listen to him explain things about his races and cars, or when he told him his story of starting in the world of music and clubs, what it was like to be a DJ, about streams... Each talk ended up deviating from the initial topic, when they spoke always branched off easily, especially in the clubs full of people dancing and enjoying the rhythm of what Lando played.

          Alcohol was always present, helping them blend into the environment and lose the little shame they had.

          Sacha introduced them. He knew his friends well; he knew they would hit it off immediately. He also accompanied them on the second time going to a club; on the third, was Torres who invited only Norris to "somewhere."

          He didn't have a plan in mind. With his friend now in Japan, he was almost lost in the cold English winter.

          The youngest had heard about a new place in the area near his house, but far from where Ezequiel rented an apartment.

(Ezequiel: You are quite annoying/stubborn, you know?)

          Convincing him wasn't difficult, although he debated whether accepting had been the right thing to do, feeling that something inside him. A kind of nervousness and excitement mixed. He didn't want the time to leave for Lando's house to come, but he didn't want to wait any longer either.

          That dilemma repeated during dinner. He hated the idea of ​​having to kill time before going to the club, but he also hated having to cut off at some point the conversation they had while they were eating on the couch, watching a movie.

          He felt comfortable; he had a great time with Norris. He could stay up all night watching TV with him, if they decided to change plans.

          In the end, neither of them spoke, so they called the Uber and had a couple of drinks before leaving. A little bit of alcohol, so they were still pretty sober when they arrived at the club. However, just the atmosphere was enough to help them blend into the vibes of the place.

          Dance and sing song after song, ordering bottle after bottle. Approaching to the other with no dissimulation but they didn't care. At that point, nothing but the other man mattered to them.

          Nothing but Lando's eyes was important to Ezequiel at that moment. He tried to decipher each different hue, learning how different lights affected its color; sometimes more bluish, other times it had greener tones, he swore he had even found some brown in them.

          As if his changing eyes weren't enough, he also had hundreds of moles on his skin that he could spend hours counting, drawing imaginary lines joining them, forming their own constellations. Outlining with the tip of his finger, delicate, under Lando's attentive gaze.

          Lando let him watch his body, moving his hand up to his dark hair. So soft that it seemed a shame he kept it so short. He had the opportunity to smell the aroma of his shampoo before, and he believed he had become addicted.

          The growth of a beard from a couple of days that always remained the same. He almost envied how well the facial hair looked on him.

          Going over the tattoos on his arms, outlining them while Ezequiel continued caressing his face. Being in an area further away from the dance floor, they didn't care much about being seen.

          Nothing mattered to them at that point.

          They couldn't take it anymore. The alcohol was beginning to be too much, the people were so noisy, the music was annoying and the heat was oppressive. Torres called another vehicle to take them to Norris' house, and in a few minutes, they were back in the brit's couch, trying to recover a little before being able to put their minds in order.

          —You're pretty. —He slurred his words, but spoke with conviction, needing to let his thoughts out, thoughts that did not come from his mind, but from the bottom of his heart.

          —And you're drunk —Ezequiel said, fighting not to let the blood rise to his cheeks or the corners of his lips to curl upward. —, talking nonsense. —he murmured, with a slightly failed accent, but understandable to Lando.

          —Drunks always tell the truth. —he replied, shaking his head almost exaggeratedly, having to rest it on the backboard of the couch to stop the dizziness. —It's just... confidence. The drunk's confidence to-... not think 'bout the consequences. Don't overthink.—

          — ¿Puedo aprovechar la confianza del borracho yo también? —he asked, not bothering to think about the translation. (Can I take advantage of the drunk's confidence too?)

          —You can- You can do whatever you want with me. —he nodded. He begged, rather, cautiously approaching one of his arms until he reached the older man's shoulder. Seeing that he didn't flee from his touch, he added his second arm, hanging around his neck.

          The suffocating smell of whiskey and fernet mixed in that small space between them followed them to the bedroom, already melted into a mixture of alcohol and desperation.

          Knots tied in their stomachs, a combination of nervousness and excitement. They gave their partner full permission to explore their body as much as they wanted, but at the same time they were afraid to do so.

          With the help of a bottle of champagne that Norris had taken, they chased away those concerns, surrendering to the warmth of others with total confidence.

          Sore, tired, sticky, wet bodies. A neat and meticulously maintained bed that ended up ruined. Feelings on the surface, taking advantage of every second to shout out what would be repressed in the morning. Marks they would hide, questions they would avoid answering, looks from which they would flee.

          An uncomfortable goodbye, a tortuous trip, and desperate calls that they cut off before they could even explain what was happening to them.

          Because not even they knew it.

          A second night that began awkwardly, with clear tension between the two sober men, ended just as intimate between the two drunk men.

          A third, a fourth. His friends were already suspicious of his disappearances in the middle of the night. It couldn't be a coincidence that as soon as the alcohol entered their systems, they disappeared.

          «What's going on between you two?» «Nothing!» Sacha would have loved to record his calls with both of them. How they began to justify accusations that he never made. "Defend yourself just in case." They knew their friends were suspicious; as if they were going to judge them at some point.

          After the fifth time, on a Saturday, Lando managed to wake up first. Close to the start of the Formula 1 season, his schedules were beginning to become stricter.

          That morning he got up and made breakfast. Ezequiel couldn't refuse the food, and until he drank at least one coffee, Lando wouldn't let him leave.

          The sixth ended with Torres waking up the next day, Sunday, back between Lando's sheets. The Argentine had been the first again, and unable to leave the bed, he waited in a silence that drove him crazy for the British to open his eyes.

          He had thought of a thousand and more ways to say goodbye, trying to choose the least uncomfortable one for that situation. In the end, he didn't need it. The brunette let him continue caressing his disheveled curls, with both of them allowing themselves for the first time to enjoy each other's warmth.

          Their first sober kiss was also that morning. Tangled in the mess that was the bed, buried between pillows and blankets, seeking each other's warmth. They had feared this so much, and rightly so, because now they felt unable to let the other go.

          The seventh occurred between China and Japan. A new world was opened to them among the streets of Suzuka.

          Sacha witnessed all those small gestures that they believed were imperceptible. Their hands swinging exaggeratedly to gently touch each other, walking together to brush shoulders, clinging to each other in the crowds, seeking the other's gaze when laughing.

          So obvious. Two fools in love; too in love to separate, but too stupid to dare to move forward.

          Norris spent the race weekend at the hotel where Torres had booked. Two different rooms, they excused themselves, but one of the doors wasn’t opened.

          The fact that the hotel staff almost caught them brought them back down to earth. They were no longer on vacation; it was no longer Lando's house or Ezequiel's apartment. It was no longer as easy to hide.

          Bahrain and Saudi Arabia were a resounding no. Miami was impossible to match, something that both regretted, because then Italy, Monaco and Spain did not give Lando time to breathe.

          Despite maintaining contact, the messages no longer filled that void. They also didn't need alcohol or physical contact. At least not the one they were used.

          It was difficult for them to understand that discomfort in their hearts, that absence and "sudden" feeling of loneliness. They felt alone, but they didn't need just anyone, they missed each other's warmth, their company, their simple presence.

          Giving the other one last kiss before falling asleep, and the first one in the morning. Sharing breakfast in complete calm, jostling each other for trying to brush their teeth at the same time, seeing the marks they had left on each other's skin while they ran to get dressed, finishing fixing details on the other's clothes before they went out into the street.

          They missed each other. They missed more than they thought they were capable of feeling.

           Their eighth time was after Spain. Lando was stressed about the championship, and not understanding his emotions only added more weight to his back. He thought he would have the courage to tell Ezequiel about his discomfort, perhaps ask for advice or at least be listen.

          In the end, he lived a week in such a warm silence that he preferred never to bring up such a delicate topic on the table. He preferred to remain silent, ignore the knot in his stomach that was getting bigger, to try to enjoy the company.

          He focused so much on acting normal and hiding his problems, that he didn't notice that Torres wasn't as active as always. A man who rarely sat still, who hated silence and doing nothing, was there, moving from the bed to the couch and from the couch to the bed.

          Since Lando didn't speak, he didn't either.

          They played music that superficially covered the silence, but it did not fill the emptiness they felt. The sporadic kisses, hugs and restless nights no longer had the same effect as before. It wasn't enough.

          They both had that discomfort stuck in their throats, but with a drink of their favorite alcohol, they digested it, before getting lost again in the other's touch.

481MCLARG | 14 . 01 . 2025 | CORREGIDO.

[rebelwrites]

Till The Wheels Fall Off || Masterlist

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Small town meets the fast lane.

Nova Teller, a force not to be reckoned with. She’s just about keeping her head above water trying to balance keeping two businesses alive as well as looking after her family. In her eyes she doesn’t have time for love. But what happens when it comes knocking on her door?

Charles Leclerc, after a shit start to the 2023 season all he is focused on is getting his head back in the game, not falling in love.

What happens when two souls meet?

Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

One: Good Days And Bad

Two: Welcome To Charming

Three: He Was Checking You Out

Four: This Is A Matter Of Life Or Death

Five: I’ll Call You Sunshine

Six: What’s The Worst That Could Happen

Seven: The Old Nova Is Out To Play

Eight: Highs And Lows

Nine: Unfortunate Kind

Ten: I Have A Confession

Eleven: Tellers Never Quit On Family

Twelve: You Deserve The World

Thirteen: The Man That Raised Me

Fourteen: Can’t Steal Something You Own

Fifteen: So What Happened Last Night?

Sixteen: Give Me Your Goddamn Kutte!

Seventeen: Baby You Ain’t As Anonymous As You Think

Eighteen: He Wants To Play Cupid

Nineteen: You Got Her Singing Again

Twenty: Jackson Teller Are You Jealous

Twenty One: He’s Already Forgot About Me!

Twenty Two: I Don’t Know If You Know But I Am A Famous F1 Driver

Twenty Three: Don’t Make A Scene

Twenty Four: There’s Been An Accident

Twenty Five: Weight Of The World

Twenty Six: He’s Gone

Twenty Seven: You Two Are Going To Take Over The World

Twenty Eight: Till The Wheels Fall Off

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Seventeen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen

AO3 LINK

Author's Note: We've got Rhaenyra POV! We've got Aemond POV! We've got a surprise in the end! Thank you for all the support and patience. You're all getting this chapter early since I'm out of town for the weekend! Enjoy!

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my love to @vampire-exgirlfriend for her love and support and holding my hand through this chapter that just kept kicking my fucking ass. If you need more Aemond content, you must read, They Say I killed You (Haunt Me Then)! Now complete! (epilogue going up soon!)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Parrying the Daggers Thrown At Us

Rhaenyra receives a letter. Aemond cannot find peace until he gets a taste of it.

Grandfather is still ill, much like we saw him last but he prefers his wheel chaired more oft than not…

Things have been tense, understandably so, but Queen Alicent has been cordial and has made sure we are comfortable and have what we need… 

Aegon and Aemond keep their distance, perhaps so they can glare all the better…

I do not know how to make amends for what happened… 

…and they say Aemond is taken by his pains at times, darkening his room as his head aches from his wound… 

I should make amends, it is right… 

What do you think I should do?...

Heleana has been the warmest… 

…we danced together at the feast and she was quite happy to do so. It is nice spending time with her…

Aegon is happy around Lady Abrogail and she laughs freely with him. He is not like how he used to be as much with her… 

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased to see how well she is treated…

Many houses were represented at Aegon’s nameday… 

Most seemed to wonder if Aegon would have been named heir and displace you but none came to pass… 

…they will inherit Harrenhal. I can see the wisdom in it as Luke will have Driftmark one day, but I think of Joffrey and Aegitsos and my uncles who do not have lands and holds to occupy them…

I love you much, Muñus, I hope you are well and that I will see you soon…

Rhaenyra ran her fingers over her son’s careful script, her mouth twitching in fondness amidst her worry of her zēapos. His letter was long, too much for a raven’s wings and she started from the beginning once she had read it through once. Twice. Her ribs ached as if Jace had been carved out of her to go on this journey and she shook her head, trying to let the feeling flit away on the breeze. Her eldest had a temper, much as she did in her youth, much as his father had, in the ways that drew her in. Time stole away much, and her own bouts of temper had cooled with each broken toy, each yelling fight, each ‘he pulled my hair!’ and ‘He pushed me and won’t share!’

The sounds of swords clanged in the yard and her gaze flitted from her son’s letter - pages crinkled in her grasp - to the courtyard below where Daemon was testing the new recruits to the Dragonstone guard. His silver hair was twisted back from his face in braids as he preferred, something about war and mindset and always be prepared.

He called something towards Joff and Aegitsos as the knight before him panted, having been bested against her husband.

Baela had not written, that much she knew, though Jace had said that she had found a friend in Helaena after a tense standoff. Rhaenyra had found the mention of it surprising, for her little sister, in the times she’d been around her, had been a quiet thing, eyes large in her face, gaze flitting to everyone and no one.

Helaena has been the warmest…

Helaena was not yet married. The match with Aegon had never come to pass.

The invitation lay on the table before her next to the plate of lemon cake she liked for her morning meal on days such as this.

The wedding of Prince Aegon of House Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong of Harrenhal…

In five moons, the spectacle would be held in the Riverlands. In five moons, the realm would look upon her brother once more, peacocked and pulled out, as Daemon sneered, by Otto Hightower to show him off as a contender, to put pressure on her father to change his mind. Her father had nearly twenty years to change his mind and still, he had not. Not even in her absence, cowardly as it sometimes felt to retreat and lick her wounds, had her father’s support of the claim and her family seemed to waver. Try as the Hightowers might to scream and spread slanders that would call for bloodshed, her father still would not be swayed. It was the sense of satisfaction that she had felt when he came to her defense in that shadowed hall those years ago, the heated of curl in it that no matter what, there could be no question as to his choice.

He had chosen her.

Even as the feeling waned over time to give over to those moments where she doubted, all the times he had failed to reign his wife in with her abuses and vitriol, the words her son had sent her bolstered her.

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased…

Harwin’s little sister, big blue eyes and red curls bound in braids, peeking curiously over the edge of Lucerys’ cradle next to Jace because ‘She asked if she could see the baby and give him this,’ Harwin had said, as the little girl presented her attempts at embroidering a little dragon on a pillow. Little Abrogail, half Harwin’s, half Alicent’s. She had tried to bring the girl to Dragonstone with them. Would she not be happier away from the court politics with her brother and the quiet? Lord Lyonel had given her a surprised, then hard look, and Rhaenyra had felt chastened in a way her own father had never been able to evoke within her.

“I will keep my daughter with me, and should I send her away, it will be back to her home, at Harrenhal, with her brother.”

Grief washed through her like the crashing of the waves on the rocky shore below and she felt her own jagged edges inside of her. Lyonel Strong had been the best of them, putting the realm first, always by her side at every council meeting she attended, encouraging her, even as his face grew graver with each brunette curled boy she bore.

Violet eyes swept across the parchment again. A servant in the camp had tried to attack the girl, Jace said. Crept into her tent, assuming she would have been alone. Inquiries were being made, but as far as anyone could see, the man had just been a baseborn servant - blending in like no other. Rhaenyra pursed her lips and looked down at the training yard once more, fingers drumming along the stone ledge of the terrace.

She wondered how wrapped around Lady Abrogail’s finger her half-brother might be… and how opportune this moment was.

Alicent’s eldest was marrying and taking a seat in the Riverlands. It was not the bold choice that Rhaenyra had thought would happen. Surely one of the many Lannister girls, or one of the Baratheons - a great house who would be invested in their own daughter becoming queen would have made more sense.

Harrenhal, for the wealth and lands that it had, did not command armies the way the Stormlands did. It did not have endless coffers the way Casterly Rock boasted of. It was a moody fortress on the edge of the God’s Eye, surrounded by lush farmland and woods that were dark and deep and felt that you were somewhere fanciful, somewhere that didn’t hold dragons nor thrones, nothing except for a warm hand wrapped around her own.

The clashing and screaming of steel in the yard below pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts, and away from the path of her sorrows and regrets. Turning her back to the sight below, she reached for her own parchment and quill, pushing aside the letter from Lord Celtigar.

Lady Abrogail… Good tidings on news of your approaching nuptials…

Aemond pursed his lips, his gaze rising from the book before him, a study on the Conqueror’s approach to the first Dornish war,to squint across the barrel room near the top of the tower that held the library in the Holdfast. He drummed his fingers upon the scarred wooden table, a fingertip running along the crescent burn from the time Abby had accidentally knocked over a candle while they were reading about Harren the Black.

He exhaled slowly, the way the Braavosi manuals advised and looked back at his book.

It had been weeks since his brother’s festivities, and the chill of the end of the growing season had crept in. It was not cold by northern standards, but the air cooled, the rains rolled in for the next several months, and angry storms fell over them  from the Narrow Sea, their winds piercing and frightening, as if they were dragons themselves in the winds that the Storm God rode, threatening to tear apart the Red Keep brick by brick.

Helaena’s nameday had passed with quiet fanfare, the lingering lords of the realm who had not left parading their sons in front of his maiden sister. As if any of them were worthy of a dragonrider, someone as clever and kind as Helaena.

It had been complicated over the past weeks since the talk in the garden, and Aemond still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. What had been most surprising had been the strange sense of release when his sister let him go, leaving him to sit in the rain before Visenya’s statue, her words ringing in his ears. 

‘I would burn Dorne for you… but I do not want to leave behind a world of ash and bone.’

How desperate Helaena had looked, angry and frightened and full of hope as she begged not to have a husband, but a brother back. ‘How else am I supposed to protect her?' he had wondered. How else could he offer his sister protection and security if it wasn’t to marry her, to tie her to him so that she would never have to fear, never have to doubt her acceptance and those who loved her?

Aegon had not wanted to marry her. She was weird, he’d sneered. How miserable Helaena would be, how miserable they both would have been. Aemond had done the right thing. He’d stepped up, he had gotten Mother and The Tower to break the betrothal. Even if they had not promised him and Helaena to one another, that was alright, it would simply be a matter of time.

He had Vhagar. There could be no further doubt that he was truly a Valyrian. There could be no more doubt as to his place in the world. All that was left was his sister.

Guilt gnawed deep in his stomach, shame twisting around his throat when the thought filtered through. Helaena was not a bauble he needed to collect to prove something. Collecting her was not protecting her. Collecting her was not about her, but for him, and it was this knowledge that he had thought about constantly.

His sister deserved more than being a broodmare, to be a pawn in the games. The forced distance the last few weeks had given him, after Helaena pushed him from the proverbial nest, had left him unsettled and snappish.

The loud thud of a book hitting the stone floor reverberated through the room. A heavy tome, judging from the heft of the sound, followed by a soft giggling, a deeper snickering sound chasing after it before they muffled and fell quiet.

He knew, with the utmost certainty, why it had fallen quiet.

Ever since the betrothal, the grip on his best friend had been slipping. Oh, him and Abrogail were an unlikely pair, but few appreciated books and history as his cousin did. While digging in the dirt and helping Helaena catalog her collection had been fulfilling, there was something joyous in being able to have someone who understood the quiet and sanctity of the library, and who loved books and reading and learning as he did. Lyonel Strong had always indulged his questions when was young - far more enthralling than Mellos and Orwyle were, and he had fostered that curiosity in his daughter.

‘All she’s going to care about is making babies with Aegon!’ Helaena had cried, frustrated and angry when they’d been alone after the fight in the brothel. 

There was a soft cry, and Aemond scowled at his book before his chair scraped across the stone floor and he strode purposefully towards the source of the sound. The histories of the Riverlands were there - not just observational books, but the census, the trade information, things used by the small council’s not-quite-so-small army of clerks and counters and lawmakers. The section of the library that Abby had frequented since the announcement and that he had helped her with.

“Not here,” came the whispered whine, laced with laughter. Aemond rolled his eye as he turned the corner of the aisle. It was shadowed somewhat this far down, The strategically polished silver angled to bounce the light around so as not to pose a fire risk among the precious books, although the day was gray and cloudy and the light reflected was that of a lamp. Abby was pressed against the bookshelves, the blue and silver brocade of her skirts rucked up with her stockings on display, her legs at present, wrapped around his stupid brother’s waist. One arm was stretched out to grab onto the bookshelf behind her, and the fallen book that had been in its place was still on the ground. Aegon’s face was buried into her chest, or maybe her throat? 

He was half-blind, after all, sometimes details could be mercifully missed. Or ignored.

“This,” Aemond said, his voice even and dripping with every ounce of annoyance and betrayal he felt, “is the library, not a brothel.”

Aemond’s fists clenched at the disrespect both of them displayed to a place they knew  was important to him. At the announcement of his presence, Abby squeaked, Aegon’s arms tightening around her as she scrambled to lower herself without sending them both toppling. He held his arms folded behind his back, his hand scraping along his elbow as the pair of them got themselves in order and he shook his head when Aegon looked at him, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Abby had turned to straighten her gown.

“Are you really going to act like this?” Aegon said, for it was barely a question. “We weren’t in front of you and your book. You were the one seeking us out.”

“Because you both weren’t as quiet as you thought you were,” Aemond snapped. “It was distracting.”

A lazy smirk crossed across his brother’s flushed face and he wanted to punch him square in his stupid nose. Let him kiss his future wife with his face bashed in. “Well, my lady is distracting-.” There was a soft sound as Abby smacked Aegon’s shoulder, cutting him off with an exaggerated ow, the flinch was nowhere near the violent response that inhabited his brother when it was their mother doing the hitting. She peered around Aegon’s shoulder, her mouth just as swollen, her cheeks just as flushed and her features apologetic.

“We’re sorry, Aemond. Things just got out of hand. I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you apologize,” Aegon interrupted her this time, a fierce look on his face. 

“No, actually,” Aemond cut in, taking a step forward, using the few inches he now had on his brother to straighten his shoulders. “She’s right. Thank you, Abby, for apologizing. Are you upset that she has to apologize for you, since your self-awareness is worse than a billy goat ramming his head into things?”

Aegon’s mouth gaped in offense, his flush deepening. There was a bruise along his neck that was going to be difficult to hide. The glib nature of his eldest brother was a trial at the best of times, but this? “You know this isn’t your place to run about as you please. Shall I just unlock my doors, let you roll around in my sheets and over my personal things while you’re at it?”

“It’s the fucking library, Aemond. It doesn’t belong to you-”

Abby let out a startled cry as Aemond’s fist shot out, but as much as he would love to punch his brother, he shoved him instead, feeling the crackling of frustration, the rumble of Vhagar in his chest.  “Because it’s all yours, is that it? You mewling fucking kitten. This isn’t just my library, it’s hers too, but you don’t fucking care about anything that means something to anyone else if it gets in the way of what your limp cock wants.”

“Aemond, truly, we’re sorry - Aegon, no!” Abby’s voice was lost in Aegon’s growl as his brother came back with another shove, sending him back a few steps. Aemond laughed, a hint of a sound like the thin scrape of wind whistling through a crack. Yes, yes let the idiot push him around. Let him continue to pull his friend away from him, from him and Helaena both. His gaze darted briefly to the redhead, blue eyes wide as she pressed herself back against the shelves, before meeting his brother’s lighter gaze.

“You are a glib fucking fool, Aegon,” Aemond said lowly, his mouth curling as he readied for a fight, needing to expend the burn of flame inside of him. “I don’t care what the pair of you do, I’ll say nothing should Mother hear of it, but-” he stepped forward and shoved Aegon hard into the bookstack. The ancient wood creaked and groaned, but the stacks were bolted to the floor to prevent them from topping. A few books fell from the force of Aegon’s frame smacking into it. “Stay the hell out of my library.”

He did not look over his shoulder, even as Abby called his name, apology rife in her tone. He strode through the halls, calling for his horse to be saddled while he went to angrily pull on his riding leathers. The left side of his temple ached as it was wont to do when his face was full of tension. Helaena would make him tea, protect him in the quiet, but that was not meant to be today. The last he saw, his sister was in the gardens with Jacaerys. 

How he ached to wring the stupid bastard’s neck.

How bright he seemed to make Helaena laugh.

How betrayed Aemond felt by it all.

Why hadn’t Helaena said anything? Why hadn’t she told him that she didn’t want to be married? Why had she just let him wander around like a puppy and now left the fool?

‘But hadn’t she told you?’ a little voice drifted through Aemond’s mind and he paused in the lacing of his leathers. Had she not told him by pursuing that fool Warren Fossoway, and the time that he had spied her kissing him - for he had seen Helaena push the squire behind the carved dragon pillar by the gardens. 

‘But she would let me kiss her, she would kiss me, and she’d touch me and I her and-’ The flurry of thoughts ached as he pulled on his boots.

It would not hurt as much if it was anyone but Jacaerys.

The ride to the beach beneath the shadow of the Red Keep was a blur. The rock outcropping of Aegon’s High Hill was a craggy, sheer thing, but the beach below was one that Vhagar enjoyed sunning herself, a guard dog laying at the foot of the bed in a way. Her head lifted as Aemond approached, lowing in greeting and shaking sand from her scales. The tension in Aemond’s chest began to ease at the sight of her, and he approached, patting a gloved hand along her scarred neck, scratching along a vicious scar she must have received in Dorne. There were no words exchanged, not the way Aegon chattered with Sunfyre. Aemond’s bond with Vhagar was one of feeling, of such deep understanding that no words needed to spill from him. In no time, he scaled her great bulk and yelled out the command to fly, which his dragon responded with her own, what he assumed was excited, call in return.

Vhagar landed on the cliffs on the western side of Massey’s Hook, the bay below dotted with smaller fishing boats this far out from King’s Landing and away from the bustle of the capital. Rage and grief, anger and fear were a tempest in his gut and he rankled at the call of Moondancer as his cousin circled above them.

If Baela wanted this fight, then he would meet her, unflinching. Let her see what dragons were made of. They did not all reside on Dragonstone.

“Laodijes peldios!” Baela howled at him, her voice a sharp shout on the breeze, her face twisted and ugly with fury, fists at her side as she readied herself to hit him should he get within reach.

Aemond glared at her, the distance between them shrunk now to an arm length. Vhagar was a great shadow behind him and he could feel the sulfuric heat of her breath as she exhaled buffeting at his back. Moondancer was a little ways away, shrieking fearfully and Aemond could not tell if the dragon reflected her rider’s mood, or her fear of Vhagar.

“You’re a fucking fool. Daemon Targaryen is your father, your mother a Velaryon, and you still don’t realize that a dragon cannot be stolen.”

“You had no fucking right!” Baela snarled. “Vhagar was for Rhaena to claim-”

“If Vhagar had not wanted me, she would have eaten me and you damn well know it.” Aemond cut her off, watching her jaw click shut with a curl of satisfaction. “Vhagar chose me, not your sister. What? You want to kill me to give her another chance at claiming her? Is that what you’re here? To finish the job that you all started?”

“Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?” Balea cried, and this time, there was a choked quality to her rage. Aemond’s eye widened slightly and he leaned back from her, a curl of uncertainty that he despised. His words had been harsh, full of the anger that he had felt simmering these past years. Aemond shrugged it off. He had earned his harshness in this. He’d been the one attacked, the band of them setting upon him simply because he chose to claim his right as a Valyrian prince.

‘Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?’

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned back on his foot, watching Baela gasp for air amidst her choking sobs, and turn from him to look out to the bay, towards Driftmark and High Tide.

He remembered his mother’s cries, her rage, her such careful and elegant control snapping as her voice cracked in the silence of the Hall of Nine.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“Why did Moondancer choose you?” Aemond asked. “Why did Moondancer choose you, and my egg never hatched?” Baela did not look at him but he could see the way her shoulders tensed. “Why didn’t you go find the guards? Why did you come, thinking a thief had stolen a dragon and Jacaerys brought his blade? Why did they give me a pig, pretending they had found me a dragon as they both had their own? Why did they do nothing but terrorize me with that fact for our childhoods?” 

Aegon had done it too, gone in on the fun, drunk on being the eldest. It had lessened considerably in the wake of Rhaenyra leaving the capital, even if his brother sought other ways to tease him - he’d never again mentioned his lack of dragon.

Aegon had come to him in his sick bed, his curls shorn, red eyed and puffy faced, tears on his cheeks, had knelt at his bedside and vowed to him. 

“We protect our own and I did not protect you. I do not care if you’ve claimed Vhagar, for I was not there for you when you needed me. It will never happen again. I will protect you. I will be by your side.”

Aemond had sometimes wondered how much of the words were his brother’s own, but he had known, with certainty, that the feelings were genuine. His brother was an idiot, and they butted heads, but his brother loved him in his own way, and for as angry as Aegon could make him, he loved him too. In his own way. 

He might admit that on his deathbed, unlike Aegon, who would only need to be in the depths of his cups and into the sad and tearful mourning edge.

“What do you know, Baela?” Aemond said, his voice even, coldness creeping along the edges. “Of fighting and scraping for everything that is owed to you?” He forcefully bit his tongue, copper exploding in his mouth as he broke skin, to keep from pressing further at the loss of her birth right to Driftmark for Rhaenyra’s folly.

“A prince has to scrape for all that is owed to him.” It was rhetorical, biting, and Aemond snorted, taking a step forward, his own gaze looking out at the water.

“You may have been an idiot child, but don’t play me for a fool.” It was impossible not to see how little Viserys thought of his second family, and he had seen it plainly on Jacaerys’ face, the surprise in witnessing it. “I’m sure your father relishes every word you send to him. His little spy.”

Baela’s lip curled in a snarl and she stalked closer. Aemond stayed where he was, watching her with a narrowed eye as Vhagar let out a low growl behind him. She did not move, did not lift her head, but her nostrils flared and Aemond felt the heat of her breath swirl around him. Baela’s eyes widened, and she paused, the indigo of them shining with tears. 

He turned his head slightly to look at Vhagar. “Ȳgha iksi,” he reassured her, feeling Vhagar’s displeasure seeping through him, her warning and the remembered rage from those years ago when she could not protect him or take away his pain. He reached for her snout, pressing his hand to the scar above her left nostril, rubbing against it. He turned his back to his cousin and brought his other hand up, feeling the anger hot as coals, hot as dragonfire in his chest. Vhagar was full of tension. He could feel it. Would she feel that way if it wasn’t him? If she was not so worried for him, would she recognize the girl behind him as the child that Laena Velaryon surely brought to her, as Aemond would have brought his own child? Had his grandfather, Baelon, brought his sons to this dragon before them?

The silence filled the air around them, the wind thick with tension. Aemond pressed his forehead to Vhagar, took strength from her, squeezed his eye shut and ignored the pain that lanced through his head and pulsed behind his scar.

The sob behind him was soft, and Moondancer’s cry was mournful.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“I did not mean to tarnish your mother’s memory,” Aemond finally spoke, his voice carrying as he looked, blind side towards Baela. “It was not done to hurt you, or to take something from you. It was… It was my only chance. And it’s something I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand. I am… I am sorry about the loss of your mother. I did not have the opportunity to give you my condolences then, but I can give them to you now.”

The sound Baela made was strangled. Aemond turned to look at her. Baela was stiff beneath her red and black riding leathers, the metal rings in her hair tinkling as the wind tugged at her braids. He recalled the mourning child she had been sitting by her twin and Jace, the vicious yell she’d let out when she punched him in the nose that night, the howls and scream of pain. He felt Vhagar twitch and groan beneath his touch, another warning and he hushed her again, stroking her snout. He watched her gaze go towards Moondancer, who was crying fitfully, grounded still, her aquamarine wings more green against the lush grass of the clifftop.

“Do you want to pet her?”

Baela stared at him, the hostile lines to her face instantly slacking in surprise. “Skoro syt?” Her voice was small and wary, even as her eyes were wide with grief.

“My condolences,” Aemond repeated, and he found the words genuine. It was not Baela, nor her sister, or even his bastard nephews that rankled him. Oh, he wanted his revenge, He wanted what was due, but more of the blame lay with his eldest sister and their father. Of that, Aemond was secure in. He would gladly feed them both to Vhagar, to take an eye as payment for his mother.

His cousin shifted on her booted feet before whatever compelled her brought her forward. Aemond shifted, beckoning her to take her place by his side as he murmured words to Vhagar. Baela had taken her glove off, her slim, tanned hand reaching tentatively up before resting along the scar on Vhagar’s nostril.

They stood there for how long, Aemond was not sure, quietly beside one another as Baela grieved for the mother at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and his own grief at what was taken from him.

“Do not mourn me, mother…”

‘But mourn the boy dead on Driftmark.’

It was not lightness or peace that settled over Aemond when he and his cousin parted later. He was not certain how much time had passed, only that after she had sobbed, they sat there in a strange, companionable silence eating hunks of bread and cheese and apple that Baela cut with a wicked blade. She did not give him thanks, she did not say anything, but Aemond took the offering of shared food as her own gesture of whatever truce was settled between them. The exchanged curt nods before parting, Baela northeast and away from the city to what Aemond assumed was High Tide and her grandmother and twin, while he circled back towards the city.

Aemond was not certain of the feeling he held except that it felt like he had scratched something out on a list, or deposited a burden that he was trying to carry with all his other, more cumbersome burdens. It was a closed door. That was enough for Aemond, and there was a part of him that wanted to march to his sisters and tell them that he had made nice, to have Abby’s warm smile proud with him, and Helaena’s little clap and promptly being the receiver of her latest mountain spider that Uncle Rodrik had brought her.

Instead, after entering the inner courtyard of the Red Keep and handing off his horse to one of the stablehands, he made his way to the gardens and to his own preferred solitude when the library - so recently desecrated - was not an option. No, Aemond needed air, he needed the statue of Visenya to look down upon him. There, where Helaena had snipped the strings and released him from the vow he had made, the goal that held him that was more about him than it truly was about her. 

Where his sister had set him free, and he loved her all the more for it.

The problem, he found, upon striding down the paved path and through the dripping ivy, was that his garden was not, in fact, as empty as he hoped. Wylla Karstark was kneeled in front of a bush of hyacinths, carefully cutting the purple blooms and placing them in a basket beside her. She was clad in a dove gray dress, the black fabric of her kirtle beneath poking out through slashes along her shoulders and puffed at her elbows. Her fox features were pinched in concentration and Aemond watched her for a moment, silent as she had clearly not heard his approach.

Wylla Karstark was an unknown. She was pretty enough, with a long nose and sharp jaw, gray eyes that flashed when she was annoyed, which was the majority of the time. She had a rather frustrating talent of being able to look down at him even as she had to arch her neck, for she was as petite as Abby was. Their joint misfortune, just like Aegon’s. She was also well read, their conversation at the feast turning from a mutual annoyance to discussing the book of poetry that he had seen her reading, which itself had turned into a rather long and in depth conversation on the Valyrian poet, Praxilla, whose work had survived by the grace of her living the life of leisure in Lys when the Doom happened. Wylla and his elder brother unknowingly shared a fondness for drinking songs penned by the scribe, although Aemond was smart enough to know he shouldn’t bring that up.

Not until he needed to.

“It is polite to speak when coming upon someone, Your Grace,” Wylla’s northern burr was arch as she focused on her task. “I would curtsy, but you can see I’m already on my knees.”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed at the turn of her words, and he was not certain if she understood how they could be taken. He decided that she didn’t, for she did not turn to look at him, seemingly unbothered. All for the best, he supposed, for Aemond did not think he could meet her gaze should she be facing him.

“Why are you cutting my flowers?”

“Your flowers, Your Grace?” Wylla laughed, a sharp, lilting sort of sound and he wondered if that’s what she sounded like when she sang. Did she sing? He had not asked her. “These flowers belong to Queen Visenya, for it is her garden, is it not?”

“It is my garden,” he pushed back, frowning at the back of her head, the mass of thick, twisted black braids kept in place with a woven, pearl hair net with wicked looking, pearl tipped hair pins to keep the heaviness of it in place. He flexed his hands, wiping them on his riding leathers as he approached. There were other flowers in her basket, like wisteria and some of the roses from the main garden. He sat, bending his one leg to rest an arm on while the other reached in.

Up close, he could see the red flush to her pale cheeks. He did not recall them looking so red when he saw her the day before, outside of the bit of sun all the girls had gotten during the sun.

Her smack was quick, the sound of flesh stinging flesh loud and he immediately pulled back with a hiss and a glare. “How dare-”

“Those aren’t for you,” Wylla said forcefully, the gray eyes of her bright in her face as she finally looked at him. “They’re for Lady Abrogail.”

Aemond had killed a man for the fox-faced woman before him without hesitation, and the knowledge of it settled in him still, generally buried over the past few weeks because he had no idea what to do about it. They’d been attacked in the night, and Wylla Karstark had shoved a knife between the man’s ribs without hesitation. So tall, Wylla Karstark seemed, so loud, filling up the spaces she was in without holding herself back, that he had so often forgotten how small she was.

Until she was there, in front of him, those gray eyes like the storm ridden ocean.

Aemond held her gaze, reaching back into the basket to pluck one of the deep purple, nearly blue anemones that she had gathered, twirling it idly between his long fingers before reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. Wylla was still beside him, her red painted mouth parted slightly, so he could see the flash of her white teeth behind it. Her cheeks deepend in their red to match the paint on her lips and Aemon hummed. 

Abby had been understandably shaken. Knowing her as long as he did, even with the smiles affixed to her face, he knew the signs as intimately as he understood Helaena’s or Aegon’s, or his own mother’s. Wylla Karstark was a mystery. She had been quiet, from what he had seen, but the wedding preparations had taken up much time with the girls, as well as her brother finally leaving the capital earlier that week.

He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking, before he met her gaze. “Are you alright?”

Her inhale was loud. It trembled and she pressed her red lips together, her throat bobbing with a swallow and looked back at the flowers but did not move to cut anymore. Aemond did not push her, but only waited.

“Yes? No? Strangely yes,” she finally whispered. “I think that’s what bothers me more.”

“That bastard came in with intent to harm,” Aemond said. “If you didn’t kill him, someone else would have. You were incredibly brave.” None knew  where he’d come from. The assailant had been clad in the same red garb as the rest of the servants. A baseborn man. Waters or Storm, Aemond couldn’t remember, much like he had no memory of the man’s face before he stared down at it, red and wheezing before he killed him.

“At least it wasn’t Aegon,” Wylla whispered, her eyes wide, drawing his attention back to her. “What would have that turned into - him sneaking in for them to slobber all over each other. Me thinking he was an attacker and-”

The snort of laughter that escaped Aemond at the idea of it all could not be held back. He bent his head, gasping for air as his shoulders shook and it was only a moment before Wylla’s own peel of laughter joined his. It had been some weeks since he’d laughed, in the wake of what happened at the hunt drying up what little humor he’d indulged in. There was an infectious quality to Wylla Karstark’s amusement that he found comforting. Aemond looked at her, her face flushed from her laughter, and he leaned in, kissing her.

The laughter abruptly stopped, her mouth soft against his, still from her clear surprise. She tasted like oranges. Abby must have indulged in the sweet and sour orange cakes they had at the feast. Wylla did not respond, but she didn’t move away either and Aemond took that as acceptance, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, thumb swiping softly against the apple of it. Kisses with Helaena had been different - always expected, always ready, with her initiating many of them. The one time he’d kissed Abby, when they were little and Jace had dared him to, did not count. The both of them had made faces, vowing to never do it again. 

Kissing Wylla, though? He never wanted to stop, especially not when she reached up, the clippers making a soft thump along the grass to wrap around the end of the braid slung over his shoulder. She tugged it gently and Aemond broke away, blinking and gasping. “What?” he asked. “Should I have not done that?”

“Oh, you should have,” she reassured him, breathless and red faced. She licked her lips and looked at her fingers still wound around his braid, toying with the leather tie. “I was just reminded of something someone told me once.”

He cocked his head, mouth pursed. “What was it?”

The smile that cut across Wylla’s face was amused, the scar along the top of her lip giving a mischievous bend to her small, red mouth. “It was about how dragons purr when you pull their hair.”

Whatever thought started to coalesce about her late night conversation with his sisters was pushed right out when her lips found his.

I would love to hear your thoughts! Even if it's just a keyboard smash! Reblog to spread a story around so others may find it! I would love to hear your theories! What did you love? What are you looking forward to? Happy to have you here as always <3

[Next Chapter]

[cozymochi]

5k Follower Art Trade winners 😳 I SPUN THE WHEEL.

YAAAAAY TO THE FOLLOWING HOMIES:

@the-trinket-witch @drdepper @thesilverlock @tinyfantasminha and @gimmeurmoneyagh

💃✨💃✨TOTAL CHANCE HAS YOUR BACK, CONGRATS YAY!!

….

OH. Am I finished? NO, ACTUALLY.

I’m a loose cannon. Because I got twice the amount of entrants than I thought I would, I spun two more times ✨🌟✨. Never let them know your next move. SO WE HAVE SEVEN WINNERS ACTUALLY INSTEAD OF FIVE. SO LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR TWO BONUS WINNERS:

SO!! also congrats to @twstinginthewind and @saiyanandproud

😱😱😱

sURPRISE!! ESPECIALLY TO YOU TWO.

So what’s next?

Prepare your OC references, whichever one you wanna use for this 🙌 and I will contact each of you momentarily. Have your DMs, Inboxes or Discords open whatever u got, and let’s go crazy.

and thank u again for participating 😩 all of you 💖

[violetlunette]

Ideas for Villainous Characters for your Yuusona / Ocs in Twisted Wonderland

To help fanfic writers and artists, I thought I’d make a list of characters/items that creators could use to make their own twst characters. Feel encouraged to add if you have any ideas as well! The bigger the list, the better!

These are all things that present a challenge to the heroes in the Disney films or are connected to an antagonistic force, such as the poison apple being connected to the Evil Queen, or are just shown in a wicked light, such as the vultures from the same movie who just follow the queen looking devious.

Below are things that feature from the main animated features that feature in Twst; Alice in Wonderland, The Lion King, etc. But aren’t technically taken. Other animated movies, live action, games, and etc. will get their own list.

(Someone else will have to do the sequels and remakes. I suffered the sequels enough and the remakes--well, I'd rather leave them to others.)

Alice in Wonderland:

*The King of Hearts

*The Walrus

*The Carpenter

*Any of the Flowers

The Lion King:

*The Hyenas that weren't used in the story

*The Wildebeests that killed Mufasa (Debatable as they were forced into a panic by the hyenas)

*The elephant graveyard (note: this is a location in the Savana Event)

*The fire that nearly kills Simba and whose embers give Scar an advantage

The Little Mermaid:

*Vanessa (Ursula’s other form)

*The necklace that held Ariel’s voice

*The Contract (Note: Technically used as Azul’s unique Magic)

*The Storm (beginning and end)

*The Shark

*The Chef (Debatable)

*The “unfortunate Souls” (debatable)

Aladdin:

*The Guards

*The Cave of Wonders

*The Scarab that took Jafar to the cave

*Jafar’s snake Form

*Jafar’s Genie form. (Note: Used as Jamil’s over blot)

*Iago (Debatable)

*Jafar’s Staff

*The lamp that traps Jafar in the end

*The hourglass that nearly drowns Jasmine

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs:

*The Vultures

*The Woods that frighten Snow White in the beginning

*The Hag Form (Note: Vil’s phantom takes the form of the hag)

*The Potion that made the Evil Queen old

**Any of the components to make the potion may work

*The Heart Box

*The raven that played witness to the potion-making

Hercules:

*The Three Fates (Note: These Gals are mentioned as superstars who are older than they look, like Lilia)

*Pain

*Panic

*Meg (debatable)

*The Hydra

*The potion that made Hercules mortal

*Any of the Titans

*The Centaur

*Any of the beasts Hercules fought during "Zero to Hero"

*The Souls of the Underworld (debatable and note: these seem to be represented as Phantoms)

Sleeping Beauty:

*Diablo (Note: Theorized to be Crowley, but no confirmation at the time of this post)

*Any of Maleficent’s minions (Note: Two are taken by Lilia and Baul)

*The Spinning Wheel

*The Thorns

*Maleficent’s Fire

*Maleficent’s staff (Note: This may be an item that appears in Chapter 7)

*The Death Curse itself (Note: In the original Sleeping Beauty, Maleficent cursed Rose to DIE. The Sleeping Curse was actually placed by Merry-weather to SAVE her. Maleficent just rolled with it to create a fate worse than death.)

[hayleylatour]

Finding Peace 🕊️

Content warnings- angst, medical talk and hospital stay. NICU/ pre mature birth.

Summary- Mia and Noah are faced with the pre mature birth of their daughter, an emergency C-Section and a NICU stay.

Paring- Baby daddy! Noah Sebastian X OC Mia

~Chapter Seven~ Mia’s POV

~3 weeks later~

Gulping down the last of my water I set the glass in the sink as I double over and grab onto the counter. Pain shoots through my back, it’s almost like period cramping but about 10 times worse. No ones is home currently. The guys went to the studio early, Noah said they probably wouldn’t be back till late tonight. The pain has been coming and going since I woke up at 8am, it’s 5 in the evening now. It has become more frequent and more intense. As the pain subsides i walk to the table and grab my phone calling Noah.

“Hello?” He said after the third ring.

“Noah I need you to come home. I think she’s coming now.”

“What do you mean? You aren’t due for another like 7 weeks?” Panic rises in his voice and I can hear his keys jingle. “I’m on my way, I’ll be there in 20 minutes” a rush a liquid down my legs and a small puddle on the floor has me crying.

“Noah- my water broke” tears stream down my face. It’s too early, she’s not ready. Shes too early, too small, too weak.

“I’ll be there in 5, don’t move!” The engine roars to life. Noah is home in less than 5 minutes, his hair disheveled as if he’s been pulling at it.

“I’m scared” I’m shaking I can barely breathe the pain is becoming worse.

“It’s okay, why didn’t you call me earlier? I would have come home”

“I didn’t want to bother you”

“Let’s go, let’s go have a baby.” The ride to the hospital is a blur, the pain becomes almost unbearable. I’m rushed to labor and delivery and doctors and nurses are in and out of the room.

“When did you first notice the pain sweetheart?” An older lady ask me.

“When I got up this morning, around 8. I thought they were Braxton- ah” my sentence cut short as another pain arises.

“These are real sweets. Let’s call NICU make sure they’re ready for this little girl please” she calls out to one of the nurses. She nods before swiftly making her way out of the room.

“NICU?” Noah says.

“Yes sir- she’s a little early for the party. She’ll need some extra help adjusting” the woman says calmly. Noah’s eyes widened this wasn’t the plan, she was supposed to stay put. 7 weeks-she was supposed to keep getting bigger and stronger for 7 more weeks.

Roughly 2 hours had passed before doctors and nurses were running into the room. One throwing a paper gown to Noah. “Mia, her heart rate is low, we need to do something now. It could be detrimental, we need to do an emergency C-Section. Okay?” Being wheeled down the hall and to an elevator, we make our way to the OR.

“Okay Mama! we’re ready, dad should be here in just a second then we’re going to start.” The doctor says as Noah rushes through the double doors and straight to me. “Alright everyone, let’s have a baby.” The doctor starts asking for supplies, everyone is moving quickly and soon a small person is lifted above the curtain. Shes here.

“Congratulations it’s a girl!” The doctor says before handing her to the nurse, who rushes her to the warmer.

“Shes not crying! Why isn’t she crying? Hello somebody tell me why my daughter isnt crying! Noah please go- go see her. Why isn’t she crying?she’s supposed to cry!” The room is silent for a moment but it feels like an eternity before a loud scream is heard and I exhale a breath i didn’t know I was holding. Noah walks back over to me tears in his eyes as he begins brushing the hair back from my face. “Shes so beautiful, she has your nose and lips. Theyre going to take her now do you want to meet her before they go?” Nodding, he steps aside as a young nurse brings Ophelia into view. Wrapped in a white hospital blanket her cry’s have become more of a sniffle, she’s so little. How is she supposed to be able to fight when she’s this tiny.

After the doctor had closed me up and I was sent to recovery. Ophelia was taken to the NICU. Tubes and wires are covering most of her small body and face. “You can hold her if you want.” The nurse says to me. “You won’t hurt her.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. Shes not strong enough, we don’t have her nursery done. We were supposed to have time.” My voice wavers. Looking at my little girl, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor she’s connected too almost like a metronome.

“Mia. She is strong, she’s a fighter. Got some damn strong lungs too.” I laugh of course she would.

“Thats all Noah. The strong lungs. He’s a vocalist”

The nurse-Rebecca, opens the glass box and gently picks Ophelia up and out. Handing her to me before stepping back.

“What’s her name? If you have one picked out.”

“Ophelia Grace Davis” Noah says coming up behind me. “The guys are finishing her room. They left soon after I did. It’s done. They’ll be here soon, they have some things for you. We forgot your bag and the doctor said we will be here at least 48 hours. Standard protocol for C-Section.” His voice is soothing but does little to heal the pain in my chest.

“Can we stay here for a few more minutes?” He nods. Rebecca walks out leaving us look at the person we created in awe.



[luvangelbreak]

Deprived | Seven

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, drug use (weed), mentions of alcohol word count: 2.9k a/n: another matt pov bc i felt like it was fitting. lmk what pov you like more and thank u for all the support <3

pov: matt

As we drove to Downs, I kept stealing glances at Layla as she chewed on her tacos. She only asked for tacos but I of course got it for her in a meal with fries as well. Allie was singing along to the songs in the backseat and I glanced in the rearview mirror to see her dancing happily as she ate her fries. I bit my lip, trying to focus on the road instead of the girl beside me.

My mind drifted to when she placed a kiss on my cheek not only during the intermission of the game but also when I was standing outside with her. I didn't expect her to actually do anything, I just wanted to tease her but I wasn't mad that she did. I was cheesing like a 13-year-old boy inside and it drove me insane.

I'd know her for all of a week and I felt like she was consuming all of my thoughts. Every day she didn't come to school, the more I thought about skipping and driving to her house. I didn't want to seem obsessed, that's not something you do when you talk to someone for the first time only a few days prior and I knew that.

I tapped my hand on the wheel along to the beat of the song, looking over at Layla again but this time she made eye contact with me, a mouth full of fries as she sarcastically said, "Take a picture it'll last longer."

"Okay," I responded casually as we happened to pull up to the last set of lights that were red. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and took a photo of her and she frowned, swallowing the fries.

"Delete that," she deadpanned and I shook my head, locking my phone as the light turned green. We drove down the street and pulled into the parking lot, seeing Nate and Chris were already here eating McDonald's in the car.

"I'm gonna go steal Nate's fries. Be right back!" Allie jumped out of the back seat before I had even put the car in park making me laugh at her as she scurried around the car and jumped into the back of Nate's. I turned the car off, taking my seat belt off and winding down my window so the cold air hit my face

"Matthew," I heard Layla's serious tone and I turned my head to look at her again, "I'm holding your food hostage until you delete that photo."

She picked the bag up off of the floor between her feet, holding it tightly in her arms so I couldn't get my food. I heard Allie and Nate bickering from the car beside us but I didn't bother looking over.

"Why? You said to take a picture," I leaned over, trying to grab the bag but she pulled it closer to her body, leaning away from me slightly.

"I look disgusting," she frowned and I tilted my head at her.

"You didn't even see the photo," I state the obvious as I went to reach for the bag again.

"I don't need to see it. I had a mouth full of fries so of course I look bad," she seemed dead serious but I smiled at her nonetheless.

"You don't look bad," I told her, shaking my head and she huffed, "You look good all the time."

"Well, clearly you haven't seen me when I have just woken up," she rolled her eyes dramatically before throwing the bag in my lap. I let out a grunt when the heavy bag hit my crotch and she pursed her lips, "Oops."

"'Oops' my ass," I joked and she shrugged with a smile, taking another fry into her mouth. I let my eyes linger on her lips for a moment more before I grabbed my food out of the bag. I heard a phone vibrate and I knew it wasn't mine since it was underneath my thigh. As I dug into my phone, I noticed Layla pull her phone out of her pocket and her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the small screen, "Everything okay?"

"Uh..." she trailed off, nodding hesitantly before she locked her phone, "Yeah everything's fine."

"You sure?" I double-checked, now mouth half full of food like she had done moments ago. Instead of responding, she quickly swiped on her phone and I heard the camera click on her phone. I furrowed my eyebrows as she smiled at me, making it hard to stay annoyed at her.

"Now we're even," she shrugged, the smile not leaving her lips as I shook my head. The rest of my teammate's cars pulled into the parking lot, all having their own variants of food and drinks. I was sure Dan was going to bring beer or weed and not to any surprise, he appeared out of the car with both.

"You think it's laced?" Layla spoke up and I looked over to see her staring at the bag of joints Dan was throwing around with not a care in the world.

"Nah Dan's super picky about what he smokes. Went on a whole tangent to me about strains and what they all do. Didn't listen to a word of it though," I told her honestly as she nodded, pursing her lips before she looked over at me.

"You mind if I have some?" she asked and I shrugged, scoffing down the last of my food before taking a sip of my drink, "Slow down there pretty boy. You're gonna choke on that if you're not careful."

"I always eat fast after a game," I admitted and she smiled, shaking her head like she was scolding a child, "You can smoke. Just don't get so high that you can't function."

She sent me a smile before nodding and jumping out of the car. My eyes followed her every move as she walked over to Dan and I saw both of their mouths moving. Moments later, Dan handed her a joint and she used her own lighter to light the end of it.

"You look like a goddamn dog drooling at her like that," I jumped in my seat and turned my head to see Nate standing outside the window of my door.

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my drink as I slid further down into my seat, my eyes always finding their way back to her, "I'm just making sure Dan won't try anything.

"Why do you care if he does?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face as he leaned his elbows onto the windowsill.

"He's a dick," I mumbled and Nate hummed in response before he chuckled.

"Okay, enough. You look like Joe Goldberg just staring at her from the car," Nate pulled the door open and I turned my head to see him standing there, waiting for me to get out. I rolled my eyes, grabbing my phone, keys and drink from the car before hopping out and closing the door behind me.

"I'm not a stalker, dude," I grumbled and he chuckled as we began walking towards where everyone was now huddled around Ethan's car.

"You fucking look like one," he jokingly said quietly before we were a part of the group. As soon as we walked over, Layla moved her position between Dan and Ryder to stand between Chris and I. I resisted the urge to look down at her but as everyone talked amongst themselves, I felt her weight shift on her feet so she was leaning towards me.

I swung my arm around her shoulders causing her to lean into me fully. I could tell she was still tense as she continued smoking the joint, making sure to blow the smoke to the ground so as to not let anyone else breathe it in. I wish I could say the same for Dan who was basically directly blowing the smoke in my face.

"Dan," I said sharply catching the attention of his slowly redening eyes, "Quit it."

"What?" he asked, still blowing the smoke in my direction.

"You're blowing it right in my face and I'm like 5 feet away from you," I frowned at him as I felt Layla relax into me further, her tense nature depleting the more she smoked. Dan rolled his eyes before blowing the smoke behind him and I thanked him in my head, not bothering to verbalise it.

I felt her head shift against my shoulder and I looked down at her to see she was already looking up at me, her eyes slightly red and pupils every so faintly dilated.

"You okay?" she asked almost inaudibly and I nodded, smiling down at her before she returned the nod, resuming her head to a straight position to look at every one. She turned her attention to Dan before asking, "Dude, where did you get this from?"

"Some guy named Ray. He's down at South End," Dan explained and I felt Layla tense against me again, "Poor excuse of a house but the shit is good so I go anyway."

Layla just nodded, finishing the rest of the joint before she threw it onto the ground.

"Damn, didn't even think about sharing?" Ethan asked, a playful smile on his lips as he looked at Layla. Dan handed his joint to Ethan before Layla spoke.

"Wouldn't do its job if I let someone else smoke it," Layla shrugged, now placing her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. Ethan raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed as he took a hit of the joint before he looked at me.

"You gonna let loose yet, boss?" he asked, holding the joint out for me and I shook my head, my thumb mindlessly tracing circles over Layla's arm as she relaxed again.

"I'm driving and you know I don't do that shit," I told him and he shrugged.

He took another hit before saying, "More for me."

Ryder grabbed a beer from Dan's car, chugging it in an instant making me cringe at the frat-boy nature of my teammates. I liked them for the most part, they were good at the game and overall decent people but they had the tendencies of total fuckwits and I hated being grouped with their idiotic behaviour.

"I'm tired," Layla mumbled so quietly I almost didn't hear her as I looked down to see her eyes hooded and her body slumped against mine.

"We can sit on the hood?" I asked her quietly and she nodded slowly. I kept my arm around her as we walked through our small ground before I sat myself down on the hood of Ethan's BMW. She sat herself next to me, once again her body leaning towards me as I swung my arm around her.

"Dude, not my new car," Ethan whined and Layla went to stand up but I pulled her against me as I looked at him with a straight face.

"You were just sitting on it," I stated and he rolled his eyes before returning his gaze back to the ground. I had completely checked out of the conversation still, not listening to a word any of them were saying as I felt Layla's warmth radiating off of her body.

I noticed Allie and Chris running around the parking lot, Chris seemingly chasing Allie with something that I couldn't see from the dim lights of the parking lot. I shook my head, smiling at their idiotic actions.

"This is nice," Layla spoke quietly so only I could hear and I looked down at her to see she was still looking ahead.

"What's nice?" I asked her in the same hushed tone, returning my thumb to tracing circles on her arm.

"All of it," she mumbled before she looked up at me, her eyes now very red and pupils dilated even more so, "You're nice."

"You're not too bad yourself, Layls," I smiled down at her and a lazy smile spread across her lips.

"I've never had a nickname. I like it," she nodded like she was a little kid making me chuckle. I never liked being around people when they were high or drunk but she just seemed to be more relaxed, her cold demeanour disappearing by the minute.

"I'll have to keep using it then," I told her and she nodded once again, returning to look ahead of us at my friends, "Is Rockstar still on the table though?"

She laughed and it felt like music to my ears, my smile widening as she shook against me before saying, "You're a fucking idiot."

"At least I'm pretty," I shrugged, an amused look covering my face as she looked up at me with a roll of her eyes, "You said it, not me."

I stared down at her, a small smile still on my lips as her eyes scanned my face before she said, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you're the pretty one here," I blurted out without a second thought and I saw a small tint of red cover her face. She moved her to look ahead again as I leaned down, placing my chin on top of her hair.

"Bony ass chin," she mumbled, making me chuckle as I pinched her arm, "Hey!"

"Don't call my chin bony," I said back as my eyes drifted to where Chris was now sitting with Allie in the middle of the parking lot.

"Then don't have a bony chin while putting it on my head," Layla said back and I moved my arm off of her shoulders, sliding it down so it was on her back before I pinched her waist lightly. She sat upright, hitting me in the chest with her right hand, "Stop pinching me!"

"Or what?" I challenged and she stood up, moving to stand in front of me. She moved my right knee so it was slightly further apart from my other as she placed herself between my legs. I felt my breath hitch as she leaned forward.

"Or this," she simply said before she stepped back, holding my phone in her hand that I hadn't even noticed she slid out of the pocket of my hoodie.

"Layls, give me my phone back," I reached to grab it but she moved it further away, "Really?"

"You want it?" she smirked at me as she started walking backwards, "Come get it then, pretty boy."

I stood up from the hood of the car and I placed my drink on the ground before I slid my keys out of my pocket, turning to Nate and placing them on his chest before saying, "Hold these."

He didn't get a chance to respond before Layla bolted down the length of the car park and I quickly ran after her. Her laughter echoed through the parking lot but she made the mistake of slowing down to look behind her at me because her reaction time to seeing how close to her I was, was not fast enough. I grabbed her arm just in time before she could slip away, pulling her chest against mine but she moved her other arm to hide my phone behind her back.

"Can I have my phone back now?" I looked down at her, eyebrows raised as she smiled up at me dopily. She shook her head and I reached around her back to grab it but she was able to contort her arm so it was further away from my hand. I rolled my eyes as I let my hand drop to my side.

She chewed on her lip for a moment, looking in thought as she scanned my face before she moved her arm, sliding it up the bottom of her hoodie. She pulled her hand out again, the phone no longer in it.

"If you want your phone, grab it yourself," she smirked up at me and I groaned, still keeping a grip on her arm but not tight enough to be aggressive.

"I'm not taking my phone out of your bra, Layls," I stated and she shrugged with a smile still on her lips.

"Guess you're not getting your phone back then," she giggled and I shook my head, pursing my lips so a smile didn't slip through at the sound of her joy.

"You're the most stubborn girl I've ever met," I mumbled, trying to keep a straight face as she beamed up at me.

"And you're a pussy. Just grab the phone, Matthew. Not that hard," she challenged and I let my eyes fall closed, debating on whether or not it was a good idea to follow her wishes. The devil on my shoulder got the better of me as I gave in, pulling the hem of her hoodie towards me only to realise she wasn't wearing a shirt.

"You're really making me do this?" I asked and she nodded, looking dead into my eyes as I sighed. My fingers brushed against the warm skin of her stomach, the coldness making goosebumps rise on her skin. I slowly trailed my hand up as she raised her eyebrows, a smirk still on her lips.

I felt my hand touch a fabric that wasn't her hoodie and I hesitated, not being able to see under the sweatshirt to figure out where my phone was. I let out a huff, deciding to just get it over with so it didn't look like I was just feeling her up in the middle of the parking lot. My hand rose to the top of her bra, my fingers running along the top of her boobs before I felt something solid. I felt the rectangular shape and quickly slid the phone out before my hand left her hoodie entirely.

"Good boy," she patted the side of my face before she slid past me, walking back to the group as I stared at the ground in front of me. I tried to regain my consciousness and pull myself together but the feeling of her skin on mine made my hand tingle and my pants tighten. My mind was swirling with thoughts of nothing but her. Her skin, her eyes, her smile, her mind, her voice. God, her voice rang through my ears, "You comin' or what?"

This girl will be the death of me.

tags:

@ilovechrissturniolo1 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl

[juniorig0327]

My brain can’t stop thinking of AUs lol (Pt. 1)

An AU where Luke just has a feral group of Demigod kids when he’s found by Grover.

Thalia, Jason, Leo, and Annabeth are just chilling with Luke.

Luke being lets just say extremely most hesitant to join Kronos because he still has three insane kids to take care of.

But ultimately he does betray camp and it’s probably right around S.o.M when they find out it was Luke who poisoned Thalia’s tree.

Luke possibly trying to recruit them + Percy who has unofficially joined Luke’s band of kids (Jason joining??)

The titans curse with both Luke and Percy trying to get their hands on the Di Angelo kids (both of them getting one in the end? Luke getting Bianca and Percy getting Nico)

Bianca like, not dying lol.

Battle of the Labyrinth, Annabeth finally getting a quest, chasing a mysterious demigod through the labyrinth and in the end, the explosion of Mt. Helens, the demigod army invading camp, Jason becoming the host for Kronos, possibly trying to revive some other titans in the same way as well with Luke and Bianca preparing to become hosts for other titans. Bianca not feeling right about joining Luke anymore and leaving after seeing her brother nearly killed by Kronos and his army.

The Last Olympian with Percy having to fight Jason, one of his first friends at camp, a reminder of innocence and how easily Percy could’ve been Jason after his mother died.

Leo finally stepping up from the sidelines with newfound courage to fight Kronos, especially after the death of Beckendorf.

Luke and Annabeth finally coming face to face properly. Annabeth facing the Titan that’s inhabiting Luke’s body, and Luke’s death (which I imagine be very similar to canon especially because he’s not Kronos host).

Bianca and Ethan coming face to face (who probably have a very interesting history). Ethan’s revenge and Bianca just wanting to save her brother.

Having a way more deadly and bloody battle of manhattan than in canon.

The death(??) of Jason and the getting together of Percy and Annabeth after the final battle finally allowed them to push through their final obstacle in the way: themselves and their grief.

The Lost Hero when Percy goes missing after all they’ve been through and Annabeth doesn’t have anybody left except Leo (and Nico to an extent). When these mysterious demigods shows up and nobody knows why.

The Son of Neptune when Percy has been wandering for months only remembering a set of blonde hair. When he gets issued on a quest with nothing except two random demigods and his instinct.

Mark of Athena when the seven has finally formed (thinking Nico, Frank, Percy, Annabeth, Leo, and two other demigods). When wisdoms daughter finally has a prophecy on her shoulders when she walks to her death.

House of Hades when Percy falls alone because he doesn’t want Annabeth to die down there in the horrors of Tartarus because enough people have died already.

Blood of Olympus when Percy deals with the aftermath of his journey, when Gaea’s secret weapons: Hazel and Piper are finally revealed, when Gaea is hoping to get the true seventh wheel, the strongest demigod of the era on her side. When Percy takes on the prophecy himself because the Battle of Manhattan can’t happen again (he still has nightmares about everyone who died).

lol I dunno just a thought, those two other characters would probably be ocs because

1. Hazel probably would never be found by Nico because of when Bianca dies and how old Nico would be and how he understands.

2. Piper doesn’t have a reason to be loyal to the demigod world if/when she’s found. There’s no Leo or Jason for her. She’s alone and as far as she’s concerned she’s always been alone. Why not join Gaea and bring out the system that had a part in her staying alone.

As for the plot of HoO itself I wanna change it a little cuz ngl it’s kind of basic lol. One of the major problems is that Gaea doesn’t have a reason for her actions that really makes you think like Luke’s did imo. Could have her embrace the “mother” part of Mother Earth lol.

Maybe she’s mad because the children of the earth, her children have been disrespected and abused for too long, pawns of the gods, maybe on this timeline when Kronos tried to recruit her (which I think he did?? Not sure) she wasn’t able to reform fast enough and her actions are driven by the guilt of the grieving mother who wasn’t able to protect her children in time idk just SOMETHING to make her not one dimensional and boring lol.

I probably wouldn’t write this but it would be cool if someone did.