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adoredaqua · 10 days ago

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After hours

NOTE: i don't think this was my greatest work, but it is something. please go easy on me, it's been a while since i wrote 😩🙏. also, it got angsty, i kept listening to "Let down" by Radiohead, so ummm... yeah... also happy 200!! i <3 you all so much!! xoxo 🥰💕

this is the inspo for this (i changed some bits so it fits better)

synopsis: oldergf!Sevika doesn't believe she's good enough for you, but does her insecurity run so deep that she's not willing to be with you anymore?

CW: feminine reader, angsty, modern setting, no usage of y/n, not edited, age gap (reader is twenty-five and sevika is forty-one), mentions of alcohol and smoking (not detailed), power dynamic (sevika is technically reader's boss but not directly), office romance, sevika is whipped for you (like really bad)

word count: 4 000+

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Sevika was the best gift that life could give you. Whenever you were with her, it felt too good to be true. Being with her made you realize that nothing could ever compare to her or any experience you've had in the past. She was older than you, but that didn't stop love from blooming.

She didn't mean to fall for you. She did everything in her power not to, but as soon as you smiled at her and thanked her for helping you with directions, she felt she had no choice. After that, she kept seeing you around. She hadn't realized that you would be the new hire at work. If she had known that, maybe she would have done more to prevent her heart from beating for you. Thankfully, you worked in a different department, which helped Sevika focus on her work. But it was as if you were following her, as though you knew she was falling for you and that she was resisting you. Every time you walked past her office to go to your cubicle, she savoured the view, memorizing the outfit you wore and how you styled your hair. She liked every hairstyle on you, but her favourite was when it was down. Sevika was often spellbound by the way it bounced when you walked away. She learned your schedule, and when she discovered that you liked to arrive at the office earlier than everyone else, just so you could settle in, she began to come in earlier than necessary; she didn't need to be there in the mornings, but she did so just to catch a glimpse of you. Sevika knew she couldn't have you, but that's what she liked about you.

You have kind eyes. Full of curiosity about the world, about her. The first time she had gotten to you was at an after-work event. It was a successful quarter, and to celebrate, everyone had made plans to go to a bar, the Last Drop. Sevika wasn't planning on going but was convinced after hearing that you would be present as well. Silco, her business partner, didn't question her about her sudden change of mind. He was simply entertained.

You were making your rounds, talking to everyone and catching up. Everyone seems to love you, and honestly, who wouldn't? You were so kind and sweet. You baked for the office, even providing a gluten-free option for those who wanted it. If someone confided in you about late work, you would offer to help them, and you simply wanted nothing in return. You were an angel, and Sevika had never wanted anyone more.

Sevika stayed put by the bar, talking to Vander and Silco, catching a glimpse of you here and there. By the second hour, the two men had grown sick of her longing, lovestruck stares.

"Why don't you just go up to her? Talk to her instead of staring at her." Vander suggested, giving her a knowing look. The trio has known each other for a while, going to college together.

"I can't," Sevika groaned into her hands.

"And why not?" Now it was Silco's turn to tease the scary lady of the office.

"Because… that's just inappropriate," Sevika stated the obvious, but she knew deep down she was just using that as an excuse. She technically wasn't your boss, but the boss's boss. Still, Sevika wasn't one to mix business and pleasure. For the past two decades, Sevika has put her life and soul into this company she's built with Silco. She knows nothing but work. As she grew older, she realized she needed to set boundaries with herself. No one was there to take care of her, so she needed to. Work ended as soon as she left the building. No matter how important it was, she's made it clear not to call or email her after hours.

"Besides, I don't think she would be very interested in an old lady." Even with the sheepish smile on her face, Sevika's tone of voice was serious, meaning she didn't want to be pressed on. Vander stirs the conversation elsewhere, now asking about how it was nearing 20 years since the establishment of the company.

The bar has gotten louder than what Sevika would have liked. Vander occupied the bar, fixing drinks while Silco was now entertaining a group of employees. Her leather jacket was now slung over the back of her chair, the white tee clinging to her body, and her muscles were on full display. Despite her age, Sevika was still a very fit woman. A couple of silver rings splayed on her thick fingers, she nurses a drink that’s gone warm while the ice melts in defiance of the glass. She’s halfway through weighing if it’s time for her to take her leave. There wasn’t much of a point in staying; she had already played a couple of rounds of cards with the others that she had promised. As she plans her exit, you decide to sit beside her.

Not near her. Not across the bar where she can pretend she doesn’t see you.

Beside her.

Sevika’s fingers tighten around her glass.

You glance over, bright-eyed and a little flushed from whatever conversation you peeled away from. “I didn’t expect you to stay this long in the night.” You say, voice light, like you had already talked before. Like, Sevika wasn’t your boss’s boss, who people usually avoided unless something was going wrong, so she could be the one to break the news to Silco.

She doesn’t smile, not because she doesn’t want to, but because she doesn’t trust herself.

“Didn’t expect to stay this late,” she mutters, eyes fixated on her drink, like it was the most interesting sight she had ever seen. “Thought I could finally make my quick escape.”

You giggle - and fuck, it’s angelic. “Guess I ruined that plan.”

“You have a habit of doin’ that?” The words come out before she can stop them. Too casual. Too easy.

You arch a brow, “ruining plans?”

“Making it hard to leave.”

She sees how your expression falters, just a flicker, before you giggle again - a curiosity blooming within. This was the first time you were talking to one of the big bosses, and you didn’t expect it to be like this. You weren’t going to complain, though. She swears under her breath and quickly finishes her drink.

This was a bad idea. You shouldn’t be encouraging this. She shouldn’t be looking at you like this. There are unspoken lines, and she’s made a career out of respecting them - keeping her hands clean even when her knuckles are split open. And yet here you were, with a soft curiosity in your voice, like she’s a puzzle you want to figure out. Like she’s not someone who’s already lived too many lives to count.

“You’ve been with the company for a while, right?” You ask, not realizing your proximity is a problem. Sevika noticed but decides against doing anything about it. This was probably the only time she could be this close to you; she will savour it.

She’ll relish your lavender perfume, the way your dress was snug, accentuating your waist. Your hair had loose curls just the way she liked. Sevika sees the curve of your smile and the sight of your dimples, making her stomach twist in a way it hasn’t in years.

“Longer than you’ve been drinking,” she says dryly.

You make a face, “Ouch. Was that a dig at me?”

“A warning,” she mutters. “You need to be careful talking to me like this.”

You blink. The teasing fades, confusion creeping in its place. “Like what?”

Sevika exhales slowly, jaw tightening. You’re not doing anything wrong. She knows that, and it’s not like she’s acted on anything. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re looking at her like she’s just some stranger at a bar, and not someone who knows exactly where you sit in the company hierarchy. She knows how good you are with people. How you brought tea to the receptionist when she was sick and found a sincere compliment for everyone you walked passed. You have no idea what you’re doing to her.

“I’m your boss’s boss,” she plainly states, each word like it’s being dragged from her throat. “It’s… inappropriate.”

You tilt your head, lips pressed together like you’re trying to decipher the true meaning behind her words. Questioning if this was her sense of humour.

Except, she wasn’t joking.

She’s trying not to fall.

“Oh.” You responded after a moment. Then, gentler, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

She knows. Of course you didn’t. You’re just the young, sweet and friendly new hire at work.

“I know,” Sevika acknowledges, looking back down at her glass. “Doesn’t mean I don’t.”

Your brows furrow. She can see the puzzle pieces trying to fit together behind your eyes, but she won’t give you enough to complete the picture. She can’t. It’s not right.

She’s not right.

Still, you don’t leave. That’s the part that gets her.

You were supposed to leave. Yet, you stayed and ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, feet swinging just barely above the ground from your seat. Instead, you talk about a project you were assigned to, about how cold the office gets, so you have to bring an extra cardigan, and about a stupid joke someone made in the elevator today. Sevika simply listens, occasionally grunting in acknowledgement, but not letting herself relax. Not until the end, when your glass is empty and your eyes linger on her a little longer than they should. You slide off the stool and turn to her. “You know,” thinking of your words carefully, “I was going to ask if you wanted to get coffee sometime.”

Sevika looks at you, sharp and still. Her heart clenches. She shouldn’t.

You smile - not flirty, not even expectant. Just… warmth.

“But maybe I’ll let you ask,” you add. “When it’s appropriate.”

And with that, you walk off and find your colleagues that you were meant to drive home for the night. Only to leave Sevika alone at the bar, heart pounding against ribs that suddenly feel too small.

Sevika doesn’t sleep that night. She tells herself it’s the whiskey. Maybe she left the bar too late, or something she ate didn’t sit right. But deep down, she knows it’s you. It could only be you. The memory of you - your smile, the way your voice dipped low when you said you’d let her ask, like it was some kind of permission.

And maybe it was.

She tosses and turns, constantly catching a glimpse of her phone, debating whether or not she should go for it. In the end, she decides against it.

Three days pass. She sees you once, she was stuck in a morning meeting while you were on the other side of the glass, sitting at your desk with headphones in, eyes narrowing at the screen in front of you like the rest of the world didn’t exist. You don’t notice her looking at you. Maybe it was for the best. She’s done many things in life that toe the line, but this? This was where she drew the line.

Friday hits, and Sevika’s in her office after hours, finalizing details of a new deal. The building was quiet, there was a stillness as the cleaning staff hadn’t even made it to this floor yet. Her phone buzzes. A calendar reminder she never turned off.

Coffee with HR, 4 pm - cancelled.

And for some reason, that’s what does it.

She picks up her phone, thumb hesitating over your name. You’re saved in her contacts as just your first name - no emoji, no last initial, no indication of what you mean to her beyond professionalism.

It takes three drafts. Finally, she sends a simple message.

You still up for that coffee?

Not bothering to wait for a reply. She locks her screen and throws her phone down, heart hammering like she just pulled the trigger on something she can’t take back.

The coffee shop is quiet. It was one of those corner places where no one wears a uniform, and all the pastries are homemade and slightly burnt. A place she wouldn’t be caught dead in. You were already there, tucked in a booth near the back, hands wrapped around a mug like you’re holding onto something precious. You spot her before she spots you - but not by much. She sees the smile playing on your lips, soft and surprised, and her chest goes tight. She slowly walks over, not wanting to ruin the moment by rushing.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” you commented, voice low enough to carry.

“Neither did I,” Sevika admits, sliding into the seat across from you. There was a coffee already there, waiting just for her. You offer her half of your muffin without asking. She declines. You expected that.

There’s silence, but it’s not an awkward one. Just… suspended. Like both of you are waiting for the first move that’ll tip the scales.

“Still inappropriate?” You ask, sipping your coffee.

“Janna, yes,” Sevika mumbled, rubbing a hand down her face. “You have no idea.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So, what changed?”

She looks at you for a long time. Long enough that it starts to weigh on you. Then, she says, “I got tired of pretending it didn’t matter.”

You blink, the answer catching you off guard. Not because of what she said, but how it was so Sevika. Blunt. Honest. Gruff and vulnerable in the same breath.

“Does it matter?” You questioned.

She doesn’t answer right away. She leans back in the booth, arms crossed, her jaw tight, not with anger, but restraint.

“It shouldn’t,” she finally says. “But it does.”

You nod, eyes on her like you’re searching for something. “I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not a kid.”

“I know that as well.”

Your voice dips quieter, softer. “So maybe we just… have coffee. No expectations. No titles. Just two people who might like each other.”

Sevika huffs a breath, something between a laugh and surrender.

“Dangerous words, kid.”

“I’m not scared of you, Sev.”

That gets her.

She looks at you. Really looks at you - and it hits her all over again how goddamn doomed she is. Because you’re right here, giving her a chance she knows she doesn’t deserve.

But she wants it anyway, and she’ll do anything to be worthy of you.

She lifts her coffee and clinks her mug gently against yours. “One coffee.”

You grin. “One for now.”

And she’s fucked.

She’s smiling now, too.

It had now become a routine. Not the kind that dulls over time, but the kind that settles into the bones like warmth after a long winter. It started with a shared elevator ride after work. You would wait by Sevika’s office, leaning against the wall with a knowing smile, and Sevika would pretend she hadn’t been watching the clock all day, would grab her coat with forced indifference.

Then came the walk through the lobby, shoulders brushing, conversations stitched with quiet laughs. The world outside the office felt muted when you two were together.

Now it was you in her apartment. Sevika would cook most nights. You always insisted on helping, but she would only let you cut the vegetables and keep her company. You two would eat by the window, legs tangled under the table, with the city lights flickering like background music. Later that night, on the couch, Sevika would read while you’d lie across her lap, playing with the hem of her sleeve. There was always a moment, just one, where Sevika would look down at you, and everything in her chest would clench so tightly it almost hurt. A mix of awe and fear. A feeling she hadn’t let herself want in years.

Half asleep and curled against her, you mumbled, “You look at me like I’m going to disappear.” To you, it was simple teasing, but that summed up what Sevika has always thought.

Sevika didn’t respond. Just stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head like she was trying to promise something, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep it.

It all began to unravel slowly.

Sevika found herself staring a little too long when you would laugh with a co-worker. She started pulling away after kisses. She lingered in the kitchen too long and tried to avoid dinner overall. She had snapped, once, over something small, you were late to dinner. Sevika apologized immediately, but it clung to her like guilt.

She was too old for this. Too jaded. Too experienced in the art of being left. You were still young and bright. Sevika loved that about you, but part of her felt like she smudged all that warmth.

So, one quiet night in her apartment. The kind of quiet that settled deep, only the soft clinking of ice in your glass and the low hum of a jazz record spinning lazily in the background. You were on her couch, legs tucked under you, reading through one of Sevika’s books. You wore an oversized shirt, which hangs off your shoulder, paired with flared leggings. The sight of you wasn’t anything new, but it was still hard for Sevika to believe that this was her reality now.

Sevika stood by the kitchen counter, leaning her weight on one arm, a half-finished drink in the other hand. Her hair was down tonight, and the sight of it sent something warm and stupid fluttering in your chest. Neither of you had talked much since dinner. Not out of discomfort, just that easy silence you’d started to fall into more and more. She didn’t fill space unless it needed filling, and you… You were getting good at listening to what she didn’t say.

Then, out of nowhere.

“I think you should stop coming here.”

You flinched from your spot, not sure if you had heard her right. You looked at her from your seat, and she looked just as startled as you were. That quickly went away and was now replaced with a stoic expression.

“What are you talking about?” You questioned.

“This,” Sevika forces a steadiness into her voice. “Whatever this is, it’s not going to last. You should be with someone your age. One day, you’re going to wake up and wonder what the hell you were thinking being with me. I’m not going to wait for that.” That last part came out quieter, almost like she regretted saying it the second it left her mouth.

“Are we really doing this now?” You raised a brow.

She turns her gaze to where you were sitting. Tired eyes, scarred skin, that permanent weight she carried even when she wasn’t talking about it.

“You’re twenty-five,” she explained, like that was enough to understand. Like that should be the end of it. You stood, putting your book down on the coffee table, walking toward her slowly. “And you’re what? Walking away from this before I even get the chance to prove you wrong? So, I can end up with some clean-shaven corporate guy who has a dog and doesn’t smoke?”

She flinched. Just slightly.

Sevika didn’t expect you to fight her on this matter. She underestimated how much you want this. She fights the little voice in her head telling her that she shouldn’t continue.

“I’ve seen how people look at us,” she mutters, turning away from you. “Like I’m dragging you down. Like you’re just… playing house until something better comes along.”

You step back, “Is that what you think of me? That I would use you?” You tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of her. Was this really the same person who held you at night? The woman who made sure you got home safe? The one who would look at you like you were the only thing that mattered because you were.

“Do you think of me so lowly?”

“I’m protecting both of us.” Sevika bit her lip. She knew she was taking the coward’s way out, but if that’s what it took for you to realize that she’s not the woman you want, then so be it.

“You’re not,” you utter. “You don’t even want to try.” The frustration starts to build up, you run a hand through your hair, not believing what you’re hearing. There was a long pause, raw and aching.

“I’m not worth the fight for you… Am I?”

Sevika wanted to say yes. She wanted nothing more than to declare you’re everything to her. That this could work out between you two. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

After a moment of processing, a realization that this is the path she wants for you. You gathered your things and left. You didn’t slam the door. There were no tears in your eyes, not yet at least. You simply walked out quietly, you knew that trying to stay would only make it worse.

Weeks have gone by.

Sevika went home alone. No one sang in the car or made fun of her ‘old people’ music. She cooked for one. Nobody was there to help her with the dishes. She read books that didn’t hold her attention. Not a single soul was there to play with her hair and ask a million questions about her day. The apartment had grown too cold.

You two would still see each other in the office. You would pass by her, being the cordial and polite person you were, you would smile, but it didn’t meet your eyes. Sevika started avoiding you, purposely leaving early or staying as late as possible because anything was better than seeing you in pain.

She’d lie awake at night, gripping what was once your side of the bed. She swears it still smells like you. Sometimes she’d reach over, pathetically, like muscle memory hadn’t caught up to heartbreak.

The worst part was the silence. She missed your laugh because she completely missed the joke you made. The way you tried to speak Hindi, even though your pronunciation wasn’t the greatest, it was the fact that you tried. The way you looked at her like she was something good.

It was late one night when Sevika broke.

She stood outside your door, her heart thudding out of her chest like it had something to say before she did. She hesitated; it wasn’t fair that she was crawling back to you for something she broke off. She was a coward. About to turn back, the door swings open, and Sevika looks up to see you.

You didn’t look surprised to see her. Just tired.

Tired and lovely, and still hers, in some unspoken way.

Sevika cleared her throat, trying to gain some control of herself. “I was wrong. I got scared and in the end I’m the one that hurt you.”

You said nothing, but instead observed her. You watched the way her breath catches up to her. Her fingers fidgeted on her sides, trying to grab something but falling short.

“I still think you deserve better than me,” Sevika went on. “But I also know that I’ve never wanted someone this much in my life.”

A pause.

“I miss you,” she whispered.

You studied her for a long moment. Then, with a soft sigh, you step aside and open the door wider. And there it was. The same doe eyes looking at her, the day she gave you directions. The soft smile playing on your lips.

And this time, Sevika walks in. No fear and not one doubt in her mind.

Just hope.

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madsluvsdilfs · 2 months ago

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☆His Favourite Comfort☆

Emo!Best Friend! Sam X Hyperfem!Best Friend! Reader

Words:660

Warnings? Nope, all fluff

Do you ever get that feeling where life is just too much and you just want to scream? Yeah? Well, that's how Sam felt right now. He had just gotten told about his dad practically dying and just wanted to yell at the world. He can't stay in that house, with his dad, no, he won't. So where does he go? Your house. He doesn't bother knocking, he just walks through the front door like he's done so many times before, your house is basically his house with how much he's there. So he walks the familiar path up the stairs and to your bedroom where he pushes the door open.

Immediately sounds of a cd playing and your singing fills the air and he wipes the smudged eyeliner and tears so he doesn't worry you too much. But that all goes out of the window when you stop your singing, drop the makeup brush that you were using to apply eyeshadow and look at him. Oh your eyes, those wide, innocent eyes that seem to see right through his body and into his soul. As soon as your gaze reaches him, he breaks down. Tears stream down his face, broken sobs spring from his chest and his body feels like it's going to collapse at any given moment.

He glances around your room, it always makes him feel sick, the pink walls, pink bedding, the stuffed animals and make up, perfumes and frilly dresses everywhere. But right now? Right now it feels more like him than his actual home ever does. You stand up as soon as you see his tears, you move over to your bed, laying down and opening your arms, ready to comfort your best friend.

You love Sam, you really do, he knows everything about you and you know everything about him so seeing him break down like this, it hurts you too. He lays down with you, hiding his tear-streaked face in the crook of your neck as he continues to sob. He feels some sort of contentment wash over him as he feels your fingers rake through his hair and your nails scratching down his back. You both lay there in silence, his sniffles being the only thing that fills the air but you don't mind that, neither of you do.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as physically possible, nuzzling his nose against your skin, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla and something uniquely you. He loves it, your scent intoxicates him every time and he's not complaining. It doesn't take him long to relax, his sobs finally dying in his throat and with a horse voice he tells you everything about what happened and you feel your own tears start to form. You listen to him like he normally does for you and he gets this overwhelming feeling. One he's never experienced before.

Is this…a crush? No, no way, he doesn't believe it, there is no way he has a crush on his stupid girly best friend. Not her stupid, bright skirts, or her obnoxious sparkly makeup, or her soft, pillowy lips, or the soft swell of her…No! No! He mentally scolds himself before pulling his head out from your shoulder to look up at you and his heart feels like it is actually melting.

And before he can actually think it through, his lips are on yours. It feels like he's actually in heaven. Your lips fit perfectly against his, and his hand raises to cup his cheek, your skin feels soft and smooth under his finger tips, you feel just like a cloud. When both of you run out of oxygen, he pulls away, breath heavy against your chin. He takes a minute, his eyes running all over his face before he mutters three words you never would've expected to hear from the emo, junkie who you call your best friend.

‘I love you’

2 posts in 1 day? Who would've thought that was possible? Also, thank you for so much support on my first fic, I love you all! Sorry in advance if someone has already done something like this or if its not the best, this is my only draft that I wrote in like 30 minutes (its barely proof-read)…and I haven't seen the film all of the way through (I'm a fake fan I know I just love soft Sam so much). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this little drabble and again feel free to leave comments/ advice so I can get better. Enjoy, lovelies! xx

Tag list (message me if you want to be added 🫶🏻): @anakinstwinklebunny

#mads writes #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #hayden christensen #emo sam x hyperfem reader #life as a house #fluff imagine #sam monroe fluff #sam monroe fanfiction

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emichanted · 2 months ago

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A request to my favorite writer 😘

Now, instead of ciel, a young child (her age is 9, sebastian becomes her butler, her past is just like ciel, her first order was save her. After saving her, the story just like ciel's, they moved to the mansion, etc... she alwas so kind to Sebastian, for example, although sebastian's firt meal's taste bad, she eats with pleasure (because he is a demon and doesn't know humans' taste) she sees him as a dad figure but she doesn't say it to him. Her aim is not revenge, she just want someone to take care of her like a parent. She always wants him to read her fairytales or something. whenevee she has a nightmare, she wants him to sleep with her and hug her (so cuteeg) and after months, she asks him cutelly

"c-can I call you papa?"

Thanks in advance 😘

➷ A Place to Call Home

Synopsis: Sebastian found you all alone when you were just 9. He took you in and cared for you. Gave you the parental love you always wanted.

Contains: female!reader, parent-like!Sebastian, ooc Sebastian, fluff.

Word Count: 2.5k (Not Proof Read!!)

(A/N: I'm honoured to hear I'm your favourite writer and tysm for the request!)

The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across the room as you curled up in your bed, clutching a worn-out book. It was one of your favorites, filled with tales of adventure and love. You had always found solace in stories, especially those read to you by Sebastian. He had found you when you were just nine, a lost soul in a world that felt so cold and unforgiving.

Sebastian had taken you in, offering warmth and safety. He was everything you had ever needed—a protector, a mentor, and a friend.

Even as you grew older, he would still sit by your bedside, his rich, soothing voice reading out your favourite fairy tales and stories he knew you loved so much. When nightmares haunted your sleep, he would wrap his arms around you, holding you close until the shadows faded away and you drifted back into peaceful slumber. He gave you all the love you ever wanted and needed, like a parent you always longed for.

Now, at sixteen, you felt a mixture of gratitude and longing. Sebastian had been your rock, the one constant in your tumultuous life. You admired him not just as a protector and friend, but also as the father figure you had never really had.

One evening, as you both sat together in the dim light of the library, the warmth of the moment enveloped you. You took a deep breath, your heart racing as you gathered your courage.

“Sebastian,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. He looked up from the book he was reading, his crimson eyes meeting yours with curiosity. “Can I… can I call you Dad?”

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Sebastian’s expression shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. You held your breath, fearing you had overstepped. But then, a soft smile graced his lips, and he nodded slowly. “If that is what you wish, then I would be honored.”

Relief washed over you, and a warmth bloomed in your chest. You've never been happier, honestly. In that moment, you felt a sense of belonging you had longed for. Sebastian leaned closer, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “You are precious to me, and I will always care for you,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

In that embrace, you felt safe, loved, and cherished. You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. You weren't alone anymore. You had Sebastian. Your dad. The word rolled off your tongue with ease and before you knew it, you were calling him that all the time. It was difficult for him to get used to it at first, but he didn't mind it. Honestly, he liked the idea of being your dad. He wanted to be there for you through the good and bad and help you get back up when life tripped you up.

Ever since Sebastian found you that day, your life has been so much better. He taught you all the skills you needed in life and more. He gave you that parental love you always wanted and needed. The one you always longed for. You felt like you didn't deserve it. But you cherished it nonetheless.

Sebasatian - your dad - was now a big part of your life that you will never let slip away. You won't let him disappear like your real parents had. And he would always reassure you that he wasn't planning on leaving, making you feel more at ease.

You were so greatful that he had found you, and not someone else. He was your home. And always will be from now on.

Masterlist.

#black butler #black butler fanfiction #black butler fluff #black butler x reader #black butler x female reader #black butler x you #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis x female reader #sebastian michaelis x you

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infictionalwonderland · 2 years ago

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the big bad birthday — h.lewis

SUMMARY, it’s your birthday and amidst the wholesome birthday posts, everyone’s entertainment comes from the chaotic and completely drunk off your tits content!

liked by yourusername, gkbarry and 234,680 others

faithlouisak, to the girl of my dreams, my sugar plum baddie pookie boo bear, the big spoon to my little spoon, the sugar in my tea, the absolute fittest fucking person on this planet with the best tits ive ever seen (soz wroetoshaw). HAPPY BIRTHDAY OMG I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I CANNOT WAIT TO SPEND EVERY FUCKING BIRTHDAY WITH YOU UNTIL WERE BOTH CRIPPLED AND ROLLING ABOUT IN OUR WHEELCHAIRS IN ALL THE SKATE PARKS LIKE THE COOL KIDS WE ARE XOXOXOXO tagged—@yourusername

view all 23,506 comments yourusername FAITH STOP IT.

yourusername I LOVE YOU SO BLOODY MUCH MY HEART IS LITERALLY ACHING AND UGH YOURE JUST MY FAVOURITE PERSON EVER COME KISS ME

-> faithlouisak don’t have to feckin ask me twice sexy bum

-> behzingagram @wroetoshaw

-> yourusername YO YO YO FAITH UR BOYFS TRYING TO HATE CRIME US?????!!!?????

-> faithlouisak AHHH HOMOPHOBE

bambinobecky the cake is so true 😋😋😋😋😋😋

mrskelly THE PHOTOS OF THEM I CANNOT THEYRE ACTUALLY SO CUTE BRO! THEIR FRIENDSHIP MAKES ME SO HAPPY 💕💕

mummy_behz wishing the beautiful beautiful birthday girl all the best! ��💐

-> yourusername thank you so much ruth 💝

liked by max_balegde,miniminter and 311,289 others

taliamar LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WILL YOU PLEASE STAND BC IT IS THE FUCKING BIRTHDAY OF MY LOVVERR! yn i love you so much i genuinely cannot put it into words (can put it into our songs tho xx) you’re the most amazing person that i have ever met, you make me laugh all the time, you keep a smile on my face always, your energy alone is enough to make me feel all bubbly and giddy inside. with you, i feel safe and happy and loved and i feel like im a little kid again and i can conquer the world. you’re truly the very epitome of perfection, lover 😉 tagged—@yourusername

view all 30,561 comments ksi bro harry’s birthday post better be outta this world 😭

-> tobjizzle honestly, he’s got hella competition

yourusername STOP IT TALIA YOURE SO CUTE AND I ADORE YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART, YOU HAVE NO IDEA. YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY AND YOU DESERVE THE ENTIRE WORLD BABY. MWAH!

-> taliamar stop i shouldn’t be crying it’s YOUR birthday

-> miniminter and she’s crying now. @wroetoshaw ?

-> wroetoshaw balling mate

gkbarry birthday lass looks so hot drenched in rain xxxx

-> yourusername eat me out 😘😘😘😘

-> gkbarry 🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

liked by zerkaa, taliamar and 211,597 others

freyanightingale YN YN YN! from the day that i met you i was amazed by you, by your beauty, your kindness, your wit and your literal intelligence - to this day, that amazement has only increased and i know that as i stay by your side until the day we both die in our cute little hospital gowns in our hospital beds with rooms next to each other, i will die still being amazed by you and your very being. i love you so much and you deserve the universe, and even more. HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU BEAUTIFUL SOUL 💕💕

p.s yes i am lying on her arse in the 8th slide it was a true life experience tagged—@yourusername

view all 16,993 comments zerkaa i feel cheated on

-> freyanightingale cry about it

-> taliamar literally no one cares

-> faithlouisak omg piss off u HOBO

-> tobjizzle flabbergasted.

yourusername FREYA!!!!!!! BRO IM ACTUALLY GONNA HAVE NO TEARS LEFT TO CRY, luv u ari, AFTER ALL THESE MESSAGES AND YOU BET YOUR FAT ASS WE’RE GONNA HAVE HOSPTIAL BEDS NEXT TO ONE ANOTHER???? WE CAN WEAR OUR MATCHING HARRY POTTER SOCK SETS AND GET MATCHING ACRYLICS XXX

-> freyanightingale you’re my favourite person ever xx

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nellarosee happy birthday to the most stunning, happy, loving, genuine, funny & gorgeous gorgeous girl that i have ever known, you are truly one of a kind my girl! tagged—@yourusername

liked by georgeclarkeey, chloeburrows and 298,126 others

gkbarry dear sexiest bitch in the entirety of europe, wishing you the best birthday there ever was. we need more people like your fantastical self in the world, cheers for sticking around this long 😘😘😘😘😘

p.s come to mine later, wear ur red set 👅 tagged—@yourusername

liked by yourusername, tobjizzle and 58,330 others

r0sielewis happy birthday to the best girl i’ve ever known, the first genuine friend i have ever made and who i know will always be there for the rest of my life! happy birthday to my role model, my makeup artist, my hair stylist, my therapist, my personal stylist - happy birthday to my everything. i love you so much yn, i hope you know that! all of us lewis’ do (especially mum.. & harry ig) 🤍🤍 tagged—@yourusername

LATER. . .

tobjizzle has posted to their story!

#harry lewis #harry wroetoshaw #harry w2s #wroetoshaw #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw fic #w2s x reader #w2s fic #w2s imagine #harry lewis x reader #sidemen fanfic #sidemen imagine #sidmen x reader #harry lewis imagine #the sidemen #youtuber x reader #british youtubers

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toomuchracket · 2 months ago

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talking marriage (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

i know we have The proposal fic already for them, but here's the decision to pop the question being made. 1.9k, fluffy as fuck, ft. girly being both a bridesmaid and a sabrina stan. enjoy! <3

one hand already fumbling in his pocket for his pack of camel blues, matty pushes the door open, wincing at the brightness of the afternoon sun. the cigarettes are ignored in favour of shielding his eyes with his hand; only once he's stumbled his way to the nearest parasol-covered picnic table does he reach for the pack again, lighting one with practiced ease and taking a long drag. he exhales, leaning back and letting the sun warm the nape of his neck, and smiles as he listens to the music thumping away indoors, punctuated by off-key singing (alexa's) and raucous laughter (yours, his favourite sound in the world).

halfway through matty's cigarette - and during the opening remarks of his mental debate on whether to light a second one - the music changes; the melody softens, from upbeat pop to melodic soul, and your laughter fades along with it. a slight wash of loneliness passes over your boyfriend when your voice stops being audible, and if your phone wasn't currently tucked safely in his inside pocket he'd doubtless send you a text asking for you to join him outside. luckily for him, though, you're nudging the door open with your hip within a couple of minutes, the smile on your face and your pale yellow bridesmaid dress both lighting up the smoking area more than the sunshine itself.

matty smiles in response. “hi, darling.”

“hi,” you lean down for a kiss, which matty eagerly returns, and place two glass bottles on the table. “thought you might want this.”

“thank you, sweetheart,” he takes a sip of the coke, watching as you smooth your dress down and take a seat opposite him. you rest your head on your hand, angling the straw in your own coke and sipping it with a sigh. “you flagging?”

“little bit. s'been a long day. but a good one, definitely,” you intertwine your fingers with matty’s, beaming beautifully when he lifts them to kiss the back of your hand. “have i told you how hot you look, by the way?”

“reckon you mentioned it a couple of times, yeah.”

“wouldn't hurt if i reiterated it once more, would it?”

“not at all.”

“good,” you wink, and matty has to actively fight the urge to kick his feet in excitement. “because it's genuinely all i've been able to think about the whole day, how hot my man is.”

he lets one foot scuff against the grass at that. your man. fuck, how he adores hearing those words from your lips. “can always count on you for the correct opinion, darling.”

you giggle, and his heart soars. “nah, how hot you are is a matter of fact, babe,” your free hand comes up to rest against his cheek; he leans into it, lazy-happy, sighing softly when you stroke the stubbled skin with your thumb. when you next speak, your voice is as tender as matty's ever heard it. “beautiful boy. i love you.”

matty kisses your palm, then leans in to do the same to your lips. it's quick, and it's soft, but the mutual adoration still shines through. “i love you too, gorgeous. especially in this dress.”

“really?” you fiddle with the shoulder strap, in a way that matty recognises as subtle self-consciousness; so subtle, in fact, that he'd put money on being the only person who knows you well enough to spot it. “wasn't really sure about the yellow on me, to be honest. but frankie loved it, and it's her big day, so…”

“nah, it looks amazing. honest,” matty smiles. “you look like sunshine. my little sunbeam.”

“that is the sappiest thing you've ever said.”

“and you fucking loved it. can't keep the smile off your face, can you?”

“shut up,” you mutter, doing your utmost to bite back the smile in question and failing miserably. your cheeks have reddened, too, and you pull your hand away from matty's to try and fan them back to normal. “god, i'm roasting.”

your boyfriend pats the bench beside him. “d'you want to sit next to me, then? get out of the sun?”

“i always want to sit next to you,” comes your reply as you make your way round, so casually sweet and yet so beautifully devastating to matty. he tugs you close when you sit down, dropping a kiss to the top of your head and smiling to himself at the way you just melt into him. “made me sad that i couldn't at the ceremony earlier.”

he hums in agreement. “surprised you managed to stay standing so long in those heels. and wrangle the ringbearer.”

“oh god, don't even,” you shake your head, grimacing as you recall having to scoop up the bride and groom's toddler to stop him careening back down the aisle in the middle of the ceremony. “i love jonah to bits, but that was too much responsibility for me.”

“makes sense it was you watching him, though, darling,” matty absentmindedly drops a kiss to your temple, a smile growing on his face at the memory of the little one snuggling into you. “what with you being his favourite aunt and all. no chance of him crying when you were holding him, was there?”

“christ, can you even imagine?” you shudder. “i'm even stressed about it in retrospect.”

“i know,” matty nods. “s'exactly why i don't want children in positions of importance at my wedding.”

he doesn't even realise what he's said until you twist away from him, leaning on the table and looking at him with a furrowed brow - an expression that would make him nervous if he didn't know you so well, if he couldn't spot the way your cheeks are twitching the exact way they do before you beam. “you've thought about your wedding?”

“well, yeah,” matty replies shyly, taking a long drink of coke as he thinks about what to say next. “haven't you?”

“yes, i have,” there's a cheeky glint in your eyes, and a dimple-revealing smirk on your lips; as much as matty thinks you look gorgeous like this, he's pretty sure at least some of the butterflies in his stomach are nervous ones. “got a couple of questions about yours, though, if i may.”

he braces himself. “go on.”

“firstly…”

god, that smirk. he's obsessed with you.

“...when you say you've thought about your wedding,” you continue, tilting your head. “do you mean that you've thought about it recently, or is it an i planned this when i was like twenty sort-of situation?”

matty clears his throat. “recently.”

“recently as in the last year, or…?”

he shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek to stop a smirk of his own. “recently as in the last week.”

“oh,” you raise your eyebrows in genuine surprise, and your boyfriend decides to stop repressing his smile - yours stays put, too. “okay. so, when you were thinking about your wedding in the past seven days,” you rest your head on your hand, cheekily pressing your leg against matty's under the table. “were you picturing anyone specific as the bride?”

familiar visions of you in white fill his head, the same visions he has every night when you're curled into him in bed, fast asleep with a leg strewn over his and your face tucked into his chest. “yes, i was,” he nods. “it's the same person i picture every time.”

“and who is that person?”

matty sighs, but smiles as he shuffles closer to you, so close that your lips are almost touching. “you're really gonna make me say it?”

“mhmm,” you nod slowly. “tell me, please.”

“well, cos you asked so nicely,” your boyfriend leans in, past your lips, hands moving to rest on your lower back as he whispers in your ear. “it's you,” he kisses your neck, over and over, trailing a path back round to look at you - they're soft, but still enough to elicit a series of breathy moans from your lips and flush your cheeks. “it's only ever been you, my darling.”

“really?”

“aside from shannyn sossamon when i was like seventeen, yeah. i mean, nobody looks as good in white as you do,” matty laughs, a soft breathy thing that matches your own giggle, and presses his cola-flavoured lips to yours even more softly. “seriously, though, i love you more than anything, and i'd quite like it if we made this thing as permanent and official as we can. d'you like the sound of that, babe? marrying me?”

still half-kissing him, you murmur your reply; not for the first time in matty's life, the deliberate poignancy of your syntax almost makes him cry. “i do.”

yeah, he's buying you a ring tomorrow.

but first - he closes the millimetres-wide gap between you, smiling into you at the way you sigh happily and deepen the kiss. your thumb strokes the nape of matty's neck while your tongue lightly traces his lips, and even though the kiss is nowhere near as sexy as some of your other makeout sessions, it takes every bit of your boyfriend's self-control to remember you're in public and he can't actually lay you down on the tabletop and continue kissing down your body to the apex of your thighs.

as it turns out, he wouldn't get the chance even if he wanted to; when the now-familiar acoustic guitar intro starts blaring from inside the party, you gasp into the kiss, pulling away from matty with an expression of sheer joy. “oh my god! it's juno! can we-”

“yes, darling, we can go back inside,” matty rolls his eyes in faux-exasperation, but he can only maintain it for about a nanosecond before his smile returns - how could he not, when you're right in front of him, all post-kiss glow and beaming smile and eyes full of adoration for him? “god forbid you miss your favourite song.”

“don't be sarky, matthew.”

“m'not! i like it too, babe. mostly just when you sing along to it, though,” he helps you stand, smoothing down your dress and then promptly ruining his own handiwork by standing up and squeezing your ass; you make to protest, but your voice trails off when matty leans in to kiss your neck. “particularly enjoy the bit where you grab me and reiterate how fucking horny you are.”

you laugh, turning to face him again. “you're such a boy,” gently resting your hand on his cheek, you use it as leverage to pull yourself up to kiss him quickly again. “i love you very much, though.”

“i love you too,” matty kisses your nose, fighting the urge to coo at the adorable way you scrunch it up afterwards. “even when you're not using pop music to let me know how badly you want to fuck me.”

“and they said romance was dead,” you hum happily, kissing him a final time before leading him towards the door; you turn back to look at him before you open it, with a smile so beautiful it genuinely hurts matty's heart. “you know, you're gonna have to put up with me doing a full performance of this every time we hear it for the rest of our lives. it might be embarrassing. it might be annoying. it might be at the most inopportune time possible,” you giggle, and matty falls in love with you all over again. “d'you still want to marry me, in spite of that?”

he's never been more sure of an affirmative decision in his life.

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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eilishavocados · 3 months ago

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Billie people, concert and music people if ya got a minute, please read!🫶

This is a one off message on this blog as a anon Billie Stan

❤️💛 🖤🩶 💛🤍 💙💙

I know. Me too. I’m upset at the Grammys with HMHAS. The Billie fandom right now is heartbroken. To me, it feels like the safety blanket we have with her has been ripped from us by the industry and it hurts. We love her, we’d do anything for her, she’s impacted our lives in ways we can’t even put into words. I know. I know. I’m so glad she became Number 1 in the world on Spotify. I’m so glad we’re seeing her get bigger and better every year. She deserves it. Yet, you can’t have all of that without its downsides.

I first entered the Billie fandom halfway in 2019 and WWAFAWDWG. She had her green roots at the time lol, and HTE was yet to be seen (my fav). HTE also deserved way more than what was witnessed at the time. HMHAS is a new level of Billie that is so unique at the age she is. HMHAS came at the perfect time for me (like so many), who needed to hear our voices be projected through her. I can never thank her enough for the difficult periods she has always helped me through.

I am really worried about our girl right now. So please please remember to not blur the Billie fandom into other ones. We all could probably name another artist we see with mistreated acknowledgment and missed titles to their name, Billie isn’t the first and won’t be the last. She still remains EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL. This gorgeous fandom brings more love than any Grammy will ever justify.

I know we love to gatekeep, or stay in a time where life was better, but these beloved people are growing in front of us just as much as we are, how cool is that. Music is here to help us, not break us apart.

I know it was different before, but her world has grown x10, the demand and boundaries are different now. I know this hurts for some, it hurts me too.

Yet, let this be a reminder for music and concert culture in general, that everyone is there to have a good time, and a safe time. Let’s include the artists with that mentality as well. Let’s give Billie the strength she needs to continue to be the best person we could ever love. I adore you all. I love you Billie. Here’s a toast to you and your beautiful soul 🥂. AOTY in my heart, always 💙.

I promise it will be okay. It’s Billie fkn Eilish.

“No one is gonna forget the name Billie”

❤️💛 🖤🩶 💛🤍 💙💙

Edit: here are some (there’s so many more) of my favourite Billie involved blogs to help cheer you all up. @xoluvx @xoxxbilliexoxx @chrissv4mp @bilswildflower @rottenavocados @luvzshy @imhappierthanever @gracie-eilish @drunkinyourbenz @pinkslipxox @moralesluvr @astrcmoni @trulyy-yourzz @dollarbils @heavensoutofsight @fictionalwh0ree @naturesapphic

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jade-green-butterfly · 13 days ago

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Today...is a very special and important day for me, folks~💝😊Three years ago, a certain special troll became the highlight of my 2020 during rough times and immediately won my heart from the moment I knew he would have his own destiny and journey to find others like him...and his family. Since the first Trolls movie, I have always admired dearly him from afar and the moment I saw him during the Trolls World Tour trailer, my heart literally poured out him and I have truly loved him for just being his wonderful, lovable self ever since~💘🥹 And that certain special troll, is none other than...Cooper~💗🌈✨

I have always been a big fan of him and he’s always been my favourite troll to begin with but every time I see him and hear him, my heart always beats so much for him, making it aflutter and words cannot describe how special he is to me...how he means the whole world to me~💞🌈💗🌈💞I mean...can you blame me? >//w//`< How could I resist and say no to such an adorable face to go with such a darling like him??💖😍💖😍💖 Cooper is more than just the goofball that we all know and love...he’s my goofball and so much more...~💗🥹The most amazing troll with such talent, a unique voice and a dazzling yet loving royal family to go with him...~🌟Cooper is also the prince of my heart, who deserves all the love and happiness in the world...and I feel so blessed to be the one to give it all to him, along with my heart~🥰💝💗💝🥰 April 24th 2020 was the day I drew Cooper for the very first time, and when I started shipping myself with him. And together, him and I have remained strong and inseparable ever since!🫶🏻😌💕We’ve had such happy memories together - becoming part of his world and family, sharing one another’s lives and music, even officially marrying and creating our own dear little life together~✨🧁💜💗💚🦋✨And I wish to keep on loving Cooper forever and evermore~💓🤗

Which is why I dedicate this very special piece above (two versions above PLUS, a video I made!!🤩) to us and since it's our 5th anniversary, I wanted to make it truly extra special and create a tribute video (which can also be found on YouTube here ;3) featuring one of me and Cooper's love songs from the underrated animated classic, The Thief And The Cobbler called 'It's So Amazing'. I thought the song itself really suited Cooper and I, because we are from two different worlds and the true love we feel for one another, really is...ooh, so amazing beyond words~🥰💜💗💚🥰 I've always wanted to make a video dedicated to two of us and I am SO happy I finally got the chance to make it a reality!✨😭It came out so great and just how I imagined it~💖🥹

I would like to deeply and gratefully thank many wonderful peeps out there for helping bring my beloved OTP to life, such as my lovely @x-elyssa-x, @kaitlinexe, @gloryraiin, @vampireflowerarts, @jaguardorado16, @zoey-nillesen, @king-trollex-fangirl, @glitchy-witchy1994, @angoraram, @artstar1997, @klaudia96art, @yeenstrollart, @asa-de-ouro, @devoted-krystal, @starshard17 and many more, for all the beautiful commissions, gift art and loving support you have given me over the past four years, and for putting all your fantastic work and effort, and heart and soul into every single one which I absolutely love to this very day~💞🌟💙💜💛💚🌟💞 I can’t thank you all and the rest of the Trolls Fandom enough for how amazing and welcoming you’ve all been to me when I first jumped onto the bandwagon, and I am so happy I did too!💖🤗Thank-you all so much for everything, including all the dear friends I’ve made and all the loving supporters I have gained - bless you all and don’t stop being awesome~!✌🏻🤩✨💕

And finally, thank-you ever so much for everything, Cooper...my cupcake king and sweet jellybean~🩷♛🧁🫂For always being there for me, making me feel such love and happiness I never could imagine~💝🥰🌈I am truly blessed and the luckiest lass alive to such a wonderful darling like you in my life and by my side~💗😇🪽U///w///U

🎊💜♓💗♎💚🎉~Happy 5th Anniversary, Cooper...my beloved prince, my one & only...~💕I love you so much with all my heart, more than life itself...and I will keep on loving you so, forevermore and beyond~🎉💜♓💗♎💚🎊

*~Reblogs are also deeply appreciated as well, so please do reblog as well as like! Thank-you kindly!~*

Cooper (c) DreamWorks Trolls/DreamWorks Animation

Trollsona Jussy/Justina Butterfly (c) @jade-green-butterfly (Me~!)

'It's So Amazing' (c) The Thief And The Cobbler, sung by Bobbi Page & Steve Lively

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da-rulah · 2 years ago

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Rituale Septem - Day 7: Pride

Pairing: (Terzo x f!reader)

Summary: All Hallow's Eve is here, and you're more lost now than you ever had been. Whilst the Ministry gets ready for their biggest night of the year, you're dreading it. Will you reconcile your issues before it's too late?

Rating: Mature, MDNI 18+

Word Count: 18.1k (how tf did that happen...)

Warnings: angst, pining, arguments, lots of emotions, p in v sex, creampie

AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

A/N: Here it is... the final chapter! I just want to thank anyone and everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented on this fic. It was the biggest project I've ever worked on (74,000+ words wtf...), and one of my favourites of all time. I'm so grateful for the love on it, and I hope this ending doesn't break too many hearts... Happy Halloween to you all! I love you 🫶🏻

Prev: Day 6 - Greed

October 31st: All Hallow’s Eve

The hum of excitement in the halls of the Ministry travelled from sibling to sibling. On this, the most sought-after date in the calendar of any Satanist, the corridors were alive with jubilation.

All Hallow’s Eve was a time for many to perform their rituals, to manifest for the year ahead, to reap the rewards since the last harvest season. While the majority of the world would ward off the evil spirits, demons and creatures of the night, the Satanic Church welcomed them. With November 1st being the Catholic’s traditional day of the Saints, tonight was reserved for the sinners.

The most common use of this magical night, was to commune with the dead and the inhuman, and take advantage of the thinned veil between worlds as night fell. Offerings could be made for a fruitful season ahead, manifestations could be created and spells and rituals could be completed with deities and demons alike.

Whether the Siblings were attempting something themselves or simply here to enjoy the night of mischief and leisure at the All Hallow’s Ball, the atmosphere within the stone walls was electrifying. There wasn’t a single Sibling in the Ministry who wasn’t looking forward to the festivities.

Save for one. You.

As you trudged through the halls towards Secondo’s office that morning, you felt like the only person whose world to had been drained of colour, as if a black shadow hung over you and blew out the flame of excitement of each person you passed. People stopped their conversations just to look at you, their smiles drooping when they saw the look you couldn’t hide in your eyes. Exhaustion, mixed with a hint of hurt.

It emanated from you, and it was clear to see. A few Siblings you knew asked you if you were okay, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the jubilation in the hallways but you dismissed each question with a nod and a well-rehearsed “I’m fine”.

Based on Swiss’ advice yesterday, he had told you feeling wasn’t to be hidden away from; to deal with them instead. The first step to feeling with feelings, surely, was to feel them. And so, you allowed your misery to take over last night and soak your pillow as you failed to sleep. Your mind raced with thoughts of Terzo, images of the times you had spent in his arms, pressed against him, wrapped around him and completely and utterly enamoured with him.

And then, you would torture yourself with the opposite; the scene you’d walked in on, his cruel teasing, his dismissal of you on fancy parchment. Each positive memory felt like a sooth to the burn, and each negative, a fresh, hot poker into the same wound.

You could admit it to yourself now; the time spent with him not only in the last week, but since you had arrived in his office, poured your soul to him and began your closer, flirtatious relationship – if you could even call it a relationship – had been enough to show you a side you needed to get to know. You were falling for a man you could never have; a man incapable of love, it would seem.

There was more to Terzo than people thought – that much you had learned. You'd seen hints of a sensitivity in him; an odd look here, a fond smile there, the mention of his dear Nonna, his somewhat unexpected knowledge of Opera... But you had come to expect too much of him, and gotten yourself into hot water.

But every time you had tried to figure him out a little more, he’d held you at arm’s length or proven in some way that he was just as unbothered and disinterested as you feared. The more you thought about it through the night, the tighter the barbed wire around your heart squeezed.

You’d considered not going to work at all today; you weren’t sure you could face people, much less Secondo. But against your better judgement, you’d thought a sense of normality might help to ground you.

When you walked into Secondo’s office, he couldn’t hide the shock on his face that you’d showed. Don’t get him wrong, he was glad to see you, but he’d expected you to be... busy. You still had one final sin to go, after all.

“Oh... B-buongiorno, sorella...” he stuttered a little in his surprise. “I thought you would be indisposed today? I don’t mind if you need to-”

“I’d rather keep busy for a bit at least, Papa. If you don’t mind...” you interrupted, your voice quiet and subdued. His brow creased, concern flooding his ageing features. You missed it, avoiding eye contact as you sat at your desk.

“What happened?” he asked sternly, “which stronzo do I have to skin alive?”

Your lips quirked in a smile at his protectiveness of you; something you’d only noticed of him recently, but when you thought about it, had been present for a few years now. But unless he wanted to flay the skin directly from his brother’s own back, he would have to be kept in the dark on this one.

“It’s nothing Papa, I’m just... exhausted. Long week,” you chuckled, devoid of humour entirely.

“Of course, but it’s almost over, cara mia. One final push, so to speak,” he encouraged. But in your mind, it was already over. You weren’t sure you had it in you to attempt one more genuine devotion of sin. The weight on your shoulders had crashed around you last night and left you feeling far too broken.

“Perhaps one final act would put fratello mio in a better mood, also,” he mumbled, shaking his head to himself as he busied his hands with filing invoices for the suppliers of tonight’s Ball. You looked up at him curiously.

“I-I’m sorry?” you asked, as if you hadn’t heard. But really, you needed more information. Secondo sighed, ripping his spectacles from the end of his nose and letting his hand drop to the desktop.

“Perhaps Sister Imperator is on his culo (ass) again, but he is acting unlike himself. He’s snappy, irritable... but then when he thinks I do not see, he looks sad,” he explained. “I had warned him the papacy was not for the faint of heart...”

You thought over his statement for a moment. Sure, his role was demanding, and you knew better than anyone that Sister Imperator was a tyrant; she reminded you of Ms. Trunchbull from Matilda, yet somehow scarier, because she could be kind...

But sad? What did he have to be sad about? Perhaps it was childish, but you found yourself getting defensively angry at the notion. How dare he when he’d caused, well... this.

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing papa today,” you deadpanned.

“Oh... is... Did he do something? Oh, Sorella, did you break his heart?” he teased, pouting dramatically to mock Terzo more so than you. He laughed to himself until he saw the look on your face, shutting himself up and tumbling headfirst into a thought process that led him into silence.

Maybe his brother had done something. Knowing him, he had cocked up whatever bond he had managed to cement with you in some way. Secondo would lovingly describe his younger brother as un fottuto bambino in tunica (a fucking baby in a robe); immature and yet, held power. It would not shock him if he’d fucked this up, the way he seemed to fumble every potential romantic relationship he’d ever had. None of his conquests had ever moved past just that; his brother was far too terrified of feeling to admit to falling for anybody, and so, nothing ever came of his many charades with women and men alike.

'What if he’s doing the same now?’ he thought to himself. Terzo did have a pattern, one Secondo had recognised when someone was getting too close to him. He would shoo them away, do something to make them hate him so that he didn’t have to be the one to break it off. Give them a reason to walk away from him, and then he could justify his solitude.

“Oh, ragazzo idiota,” Secondo muttered to himself.

“I’m sorry, what was that, Papa?” you asked, having missed it.

“N-nothing... Sorella, you want to keep busy, sì?” he asked, dismissing his thoughts. You nodded, looking through your notebook to find an unattended task to take up. “Don’t busy yourself with paperwork, dolcezza. You should do something amongst the festivities! Get some fresh air; Primo has asked for you, actually. He’d like some help with pumpkin picking. His frail old hands aren’t what they used to be...”

Secondo sounded overly kind, as if he were stepping around the issue. It didn’t come naturally to him, outward kindness. You always knew when he was putting it on, or trying to hard; he was most certainly doing that now.

“Why would Papa Primo ask for me?” you asked suspiciously. He had his own assistant, not to mention the Ghouls were on hand for manual labour.

Secondo just shrugged, “More like he asked for some help, and I put your name forward, if you were to be available. You don’t mind, do you?”

Truthfully, no you didn’t. Fresh air may be a good idea, and particularly in the quiet seclusion of Papa Primo’s gardens when the rest of the Ministry would be preparing for tonight’s festivities. You could hide from their excitement and wallow in self-pity for a little; that sounded just fine to you.

“I’ll head out to the gardens now. Do you need anything else from me, Papa?” you asked, standing and tidying your things away into your desk.

“No, dolcezza. But... if my brother has done anything to upset you, I...” he stopped himself, trying to pick his words carefully. “Just know, he is a fool.”

You stared blankly at him, blinking a few times whilst you tried to think of something to say back to him. You couldn’t quite decipher the tone of his voice, or the laced meaning in his words. But before you could give it much thought, he dismissed you to the rest of your day.

“I’ll see you at the Ball, dolcezza. Don’t think you’re getting out of giving this old man a dance,” he smiled. Smiling looked unusual on Secondo’s face, but in this moment it felt comforting. You felt like he had your back, he was in your corner, batting for your team... He was telling you he’d make sure you enjoyed tonight, Terzo be damned and despite the success or failure of the ritual.

He’d still be there; your friend.

“Who picked this orange? It’s too bright...” Terzo grunted, swatting at the drapes Swiss was hanging up in the Great Hall.

“Y-you did, Papa?” he answered from the top step of the step ladder Dew was holding still, frankly a little scared of the way Papa was acting today. While everyone else was in a particularly joyous mood, Terzo was on a war path. His mood was foul, snapping at anything and everything he possibly could.

“Well... I... shut up,” Terzo threw his hands in the air and stomped off to check on the Siblings setting up the round dining tables and various casino games on the outskirts of the hall – Secondo's idea; a very big fan of the Vegas strip. His head was all over the place, unable to focus. Not only did he have to play the Papa role at tonight’s Ball, but he was battling with the thoughts of you at the same time.

Did you complete your sin yesterday? With who? No, that didn’t matter. None of his business. Would you complete the ritual? Or had he fucked that up too? Lucifer, he’d never forgive himself.

“Papa!” he heard someone called to him and quietly groaned at the footsteps quickly approached, clacking on the marble of the floor. “Papa, could I... eh, could I talk to you? Per uno momento, (For one moment,) I shall not keep you...”

Terzo span on his heels in the middle of the dancefloor, having not yet reached the gaggle of Siblings arranging tableware on the opposite end of the Hall. His younger brother, Cardinal Copia, was scurrying towards him with a sheepish look on his face, a blush that gave away his shame.

“What is it, fratellino? I’m a little busy with preparations...” Terzo tried to dismiss him, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t care to look him in the eye after Sunday, when he had seen you... on top of him.

“Sì, sì, scusi, I just...” Copia stopped in front of him, lowering his voice from the rest of the Hall, “I have felt somewhat guilty since Sunday, Papa.”

“How many times do I have to ask you not to call me Papa, Copia? Just Terzo will do,” he fussed, raising his hand to stop Copia’s protests about ‘lineage’ and ‘formality’. He completely glazed over the mention of Sunday, not wanting to address it at all. “You are my brother. It’s weird.”

“Okie dokie...” he hung his head in apology. “But... Sunday,” he began again. Terzo raised his palm again.

“I will knock next time,” he said.

“Well, yes, but... I’m sorry,” Copia forced his apology on Terzo, willing him to listen to him, as if not having the opportunity to apologise was somehow paining him. He needed him to know his intentions.

“What... what are you sorry for?” Terzo asked, confused and frankly, a little nervous. He had a feeling he knew where this was heading, his brother able to read him easily as he did most people.

“I saw the look on your face, Terzo. It wasn’t just disgust at what you’d seen me doing. I saw rage, Terzo. And... pain.” Copia kept his voice low to not attract attention, his eyes searching his brother’s face for his reaction. He could have been way off base here, but part of him knew. It told him that no, he was right; Terzo was genuinely upset by what he saw.

Terzo stared at his brother, his heart rate picking up in his chest. He didn’t need every damn brother knowing what he was thinking all the time, and he didn’t feel like having to explain himself or coming up with excuses. He didn’t have the energy to pretend today, and so, he began to turn and walk away.

It was cowardly and he knew it; walking away from the truth, pretending it didn’t exist. But he couldn’t do this; not right now.

“No, wait!” Copia grabbed his arm, quietly calling to him. Terzo stopped, hanging his head low and turning back.

“Copia please, not here. I can’t... not today.”

“When I walked into her in the hall that day, she was upset by something and I need you to know I don’t think she was in her right mind when she... dragged me to my workshop. She didn’t want me, she wanted something and I just happened to be there,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “and I’m the weak and pathetic man who allowed it. Swept up, I suppose.”

Both brothers shuffled on their feet uncomfortably, neither one speaking for a moment as they both wallowed in their shame. Terzo had known you were upset; of course he did, it was his doing. But he’d been able to ignore that for the most part, try and stuff it down in a suitcase he could throw to the bottom of a lake and forget about completely. But he didn’t realise it would float back to the surface. His guilt ate him up.

“You’re... you’re not weak, Copia,” Terzo managed to say. It was possibly one of the nicest things he’d said to him in a long time, their relationship very much strained thanks to their estranged father. Copia simply smiled delicately in thanks and pity.

“You should tell her, fratello.” Terzo laughed bitterly, at that.

“Tell her what, exactly?” he shrugged, feigning ignorance.

“How you feel,” Copia persisted, “I didn’t miss the anger on her face, either. I fear I came between something...”

“I can’t tell her anything, Copia. She doesn’t deserve me,” Terzo’s gaze hardened, his jaw locking up tightly as he stared into his brother’s eyes.

Copia frowned at that statement; what, you were not good enough for him? Copia knew you well enough to know he’d be lucky to find a woman half as deserving of love as you. He knew his brother could be a pig-headed and proud man, but that was potentially one of the most arrogant things he had ever said.

When Terzo realised the annoyance on Copia’s face, he scoffed, shaking his head and staring down at his feet.

“No, Copia... she doesn’t deserve me,” he looked up then, sadness filling his eyes and a soft sigh escaping his chest. “No one deserves that burden.”

Without another word, Terzo turned and walked the rest of the length of the Hall, leaving the Siblings and Ghouls to their preparations, and a rather deflated looking Copia in the middle of the empty dancefloor.

He just wanted to be alone.

The chill in the air bit at your skin the second you stepped outside, wrapping your cloak tightly around you as you acclimatised after the warmth confined to the Ministry’s inner walls. The air felt fresh, with a dew settled as a low fog over the hills in the distance. The landscape looked quite perfect for All Hallow’s Eve morning.

You took the short winding footpath that led to Papa Primo’s gardens, noticing you hadn’t come across another sibling or ghoul on your way through. They must be inside, getting things ready for the biggest night of the year or enjoying their freedom from seminars and work duty that came with the holiday.

When you knocked on the door to Primo’s greenhouse, you heard a groan as if Primo had been sat when you arrived, dragging himself up while his aching bones protested. He came to the door, greeting you with a warm smile and open arms ready to engulf you in a hug you had come to expect of the eldest Emeritus. In his old age, he’d grown softer, and tended to greet his Siblings this way now.

“Sorella _____! Oh, Happy Halloween to you, cara mio,” he beamed as you gently hugged him, careful not to knock his balance.

“Happy Halloween, Papa,” you smiled, strikingly good at masking your sadness around him. Perhaps it was simply Primo’s comforting aura.

“Did Secondo send you to help with the pumpkins?” he asked, taking a step back but grasping your hands in his.

“He did,” you chuckled, “I needed the fresh air.”

“Sí, sí, well let’s get started, eh? Would you fetch me a wheelbarrow from the tool shed, cara? I will find the clippers; those stalks are stubborn this year!” he turned in his spot to rifle through the shelves by the door, and left you to run to the shed and grab the wheelbarrow he’d requested, plus a camping stool for him to sit on. You met at the pumpkin patch, largely overgrown with an assortment of pumpkins the size of boulders down to footballs. You sat the wheelbarrow near the front of the patch, and took the shears Primo had collected from him.

“Relax, Papa. I’ve got this,” you smiled sweetly, kneeling beside a group of pumpkins ready to cut into the stalks and pile them into the wheelbarrow while Papa rested on the stool you’d brought for him.

“Ah, you think me too frail, Sorella?” he teased, instantly eating his words when he groaned taking a seat.

“Not me, Papa. Your joints, however...” you laughed. Papa couldn’t deny that, letting you get away with the cheek for now with a fond smile.

“I trust my brother is keeping you busy?” he asks, forcing your hand to pause it’s cutting as you looked back at him, wondering what he was getting at. He didn’t mean...? “Secondo? Is he keeping you busy as usual, Sorella?”

“O-oh! Yes, of course. Always,” you laughed, relieved and turning back to the pumpkins. Primo smirked, knowing full well why you’d panicked. But he’d let it slide, for now.

“Good, good... And you’re doing well in yourself, cara?” he asked, making conversation. Except, he was prying. Primo knew more than he was letting on, but he was manipulating the conversation in a way that you may be more forthcoming...

But you didn’t know how to answer him. You wanted so desperately to be honest with him, feeling comfortable and trusting him but the fear of judgment and embarrassment made you hesitate. And you hesitated a moment too long, chewing on your bottom lip and stilling your progress on the pumpkin stem you were hacking into.

Primo saw an opening.

“Hmm... you said you needed the fresh air too, earlier. Cara mio, something is bothering you, is it not?” he asked, leaning forwards to rest his forearms on his knees, holding your gaze when you looked up at him beside you.

“Well, I... um...” you stuttered, wondering how you would even begin this conversation.

“It’s okay, fiorellina (little flower),” he softened his voice, reaching his palm to rest gently at your cheek that had pinkened now you were flustered, “I know you have been performing Rituale Septem,” he admitted.

You froze; your body seemed to simply stop working, lungs and all as you held your breath. How did he know? What did he know? You were mortified... It felt like your Grandpa had just told you he’d heard you having sex; just icky. You hoped he didn’t think any less of you for it. His opinion of you mattered to you more than you realised.

“I must say, it was brave to take on this ritual, Sorella. You must have been at your wits end to try and accomplish this. I’ve never seen it completed in my lifetime; it always gets too messy,” he praised, giving you a sense of relief that he certainly did not think less of you at all. But messy; yes. That’s one way to put it. “I hear it got messy, Sorella...” he spoke so softly, a look of sympathy on his face.

“I think it did, yes...” you hung your head in shame, slowly beginning to cut back into the pumpkin stem you were working on. Primo hummed in acknowledgement.

“Well done, _______. For fighting back, I mean. He plays too many games, il mio idiota fratellino, (my idiot little brother,)” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“He told you, then?” you deduced, focussed entirely on this ruddy pumpkin stalk that just would not cut. You hacked into it, anger building.

“He did, sí... Hey, hey!” he raised his voice, reaching out to your wrist to stop your assault on the stalk that had become entirely too violent. “Fiorellina, per favore! (Little flower, please!) Violence does not suit you.” He ran his gloved thumb over your cheek, wiping at a stray tear that had fallen and chilled on your cheek in the autumn air.

“S-sorry...” you mumbled, letting the shears drop to the ground in front of you and sitting back on your heels in defeat.

“I hate to pry, but... did you manage to complete a sin yesterday?” he asked, “Terzo said you had two left when he came to me. If you did, then there is still hope you can talk to Lucifer tonight.” Primo evaded the subject a little, putting a pin in the Terzo dynamic for the time being to understand what position you found yourself in now. He could only help with the full picture, and if you had failed yesterday, then attempting any sin today was futile.

“Yes...” you winced, “Swiss and Dew... Greed.” Frankly, you’d felt guilty ever since. Whilst the Ghouls were lovely, and handled you well, took care of you and even stayed with you for comfort long into the night... It had felt weird to sleep with them when you were so clearly hung up on another man. You had used them; with their knowledge and consent, yes, but something still didn’t sit right about it now that your feelings of ugly jealousy and hopelessly unrequited adoration were painfully obvious to you.

You picked the shears back up and began to cut into the stalk again, needing to busy your hands.

“Okay, so one final sin. Have you given much thought to how you might accomplish this one? Pride, isn’t it?”

Truth be told, you had thought about it briefly yesterday, and then given up hope. When you’d woken up this morning, you’d resigned yourself to failure already. You shook your head no, “I don’t think I’ll be completing this ritual, Papa.”

“You don’t wish to speak with The Dark One?” he asked, straight to the point.

“Of course I do, but... things have changed, Papa,” you sighed, finally cutting the stalk of the oversized pumpkin in front of you and moving to lift the bastard thing into the wheelbarrow. It dropped with a thud, and you knelt next to the smaller one beside the first, beginning to cut into that stalk also.

Primo nodded in thought, knowing exactly what had changed; you’d fallen for his idiota fratellino.

“You know, I understand wanting to give up, Sorella. Believe me, I do,” Primo shuffled, getting himself comfy as if about to tell a story. And he was. “When I was a young man, long before your time, I had wanted to give up too. I was a bishop, then. I couldn’t juggle everything... My responsibilities, my faith, mio fratelli... Our padre, he was too busy with women and drugs; eh, it was the 60’s. Everyone was experimenting, but he was absent, and with no madre in the picture, that was all down to me.

“Terzo was... un incubo (a nightmare). Particularly after his madre passed. I cannot say I blame him, but... he tested me. I remember one day when he was seventeen, even his nonna could not rein him in. He thought he was big and clever going out to drink and sleep around and he was acting too much like il suo inutile padre, (his useless father). His nonna called me very early in the morning to tell me he had come home drunk and angry yet again, and I didn’t know what to do with him anymore. I wanted to give in,” he sighed, recounting the memory.

“Truth be told, Sorella, I thought he had been too damaged to save. Nihil was not only absent most of the time, but a vile creature to his children when he did show. As a result, Terzo deals very badly with emotion. Particularly affection, or love...”

Primo let the thought hang in the air between you for a moment, gaging your reaction. He had a point to make here, and he was spoon feeding you, guiding your thought process.

“He’s never exactly received much love in his life, and when he does, it scares him. He finds a way to push it away from him before he’s even aware he’s doing it and then... it’s too late,” he sighed, finally making eye contact with you, who had stopped cutting into the next stem long ago to listen along. He noted the tears shining in your eyes and knew he was on the right track; he was chiselling away at the wall you tried to build between you and his brother.

“Mio fratellino is constantly getting shit on from a great height, in a manner of speaking. Nothing he has ever done or will do is good enough for people; they expect more and more of him every day. I’m sure he feels he is not worthy of the love he deserves. But he is a proud man. Too proud... He would never admit he craves that acceptance.”

You should have seen it. You should have known there was something more here, you’d even caught glimpses of it. You saw the stress on his face after your encounter with Secondo, his hand woven in his hair, brow creased at his desk. He’d talked about his nonna at dinner, how fondly he’d smiled at the mention of her. You’d felt the tension after he’d explained the opera to you, his internal battle of ‘should I kiss her? Should I not?’ playing out in his eyes – he'd denied himself then, you remember the disappointment...

He was letting you in... and then shutting you out again. And you’d missed it every time.

Primo saw your mind racing and let you have a moment, contemplating his words before he dove back in to chisel away further into that wall.

“Sorella, I feel I must tell you something...” He leaned forward, taking the shears from you and taking your hands in his, “When he came to me on Sunday, he was angry. I believe he had just seen something he wished he hadn’t.” You knew what that meant, and you hung your head in shame. You felt unbelievably guilty now; sure, he had started it, but you had used his own brother against him.

Primo picked your chin up, curling his finger underneath it to raise your gaze back to his above you.

“He wasn’t angry at you, fiorellina. In fact, the only person he was angry at was himself. And perhaps a little at Copia, but that was misdirected... He kept babbling on about how he had ruined your ritual, how he was terrified you’d never forgive him, that you’d leave... My point, cara mio, is that not once did he say a bad word about you.”

Your bottom lip quivered with unspoken emotion. The tears welling in your eyes spilled down your cheeks and chilled your skin. Words failed you, all you could think of was him, running the signs over and over in your head that he was holding back, that he was hiding. It had taken Primo pointing out the obvious, giving you background and context, for you to realise what had been happening. But now you had... what do you do?

“P-Papa... What do I do?” you sobbed quietly into his hands, now enveloping your reddening cheeks. Primo smiles softly at you, caressing your cheeks to remove the tear tracks.

“Pride is a funny thing, fiorellina. It is about self-worth, sí? Vanity, conceit, even arrogance. But that is how God sees it. Lucifer teaches us different, when you read between the lines. Pride extends to those around you, to those you love,” he emphasises, “You can harbour pride for others, sí?”

You nod at him; yes, yes you were proud of Terzo. So proud of him; your Papa.

“But you have your own pride too, Sorella. You must know your worth. I must ask; are you worthy of my brother? Are you worthy of a Papa?”

“Y-yes... I think so. I want to be good enough for him, Papa,” you cried, hiccupping in his hands. Finally being honest with yourself, you absolutely wanted that. You wanted to be the one to tell him how proud you were of him, how wonderful he was, how funny or sweet, how kind... How much you loved him.

“There you have it... You know what to do, fiorellina,” he sits back, letting go of your face as your eyes dart from side to side in panicked thought. You had to go. You needed to see him. You’d force your way into his office if you must; screw whatever meeting he was in or whatever clergy member you had to throw out of his way. You looked at the pumpkin patch around you and back at Primo, desperate to get away to find Terzo but your sense of duty halted you; you’d promised to help an old man with his pumpkin patch. You couldn’t just run away from him...

Primo saw your internal monologue plain as day, and chuckled to himself.

“Go, go! Andare! (Go!) I will fetch some Ghouls. They're more efficient than you anyway, cara,” he joked, grinning at you with a wink.

“Th-thank you, Papa...” you stood quickly, dusting the soil from your cloak and stepping forward to kiss his forehead in thanks, “I’m sorry... I just, I have to...”

“Yes, yes. I shall see you at the Ball!” he called after you as you ran back through the gardens, your boots slipping slightly on the cobblestone paths under the dew that had settled on them. It didn’t deter you; nothing could. You just continued to run until you reached the Ministry again, out of breath by the time you were inside it’s warm halls.

Where would he be? Today of all days, where would you find him?

You’d tried his office first; no sign of him. Even Christine was nowhere to be found, her desk tidy and untouched. Fine, you would try the Great Hall. Perhaps they were setting up for the ball?

As you ran into the hall, several heads turned towards the sound and caught you frantically scanning the crowds of siblings and Ghouls alike. You spotted Swiss and Dew, precariously balancing on a ladder and hanging fresh black candles on the large chandeliers. Swiss reached up to hang another candle, seeing you stood at the edge of the dancefloor and waved, wobbling on the ladder. Dew banged on one of the wooden rungs for Swiss to focus, until he too saw you and gave you a quick wave.

Chrstine had been in the hall setting up a blackjack table, and had seen you run in too. Having been the first time she’d seen you since Sunday, she hurried over with a guilty expression. You didn’t notice until she was right beside you, tapping your shoulder to gain your attention from the rest of the room.

“Sister ______?” she asked, forcing you out of your trance. “I just... I wanted to apologise for the other day.” You almost rolled your eyes; you didn’t have time for this!

“It’s... it’s fine, really,” you said, looking around her desperately at the people around the room. Where was he?

“No, _______, really... It’s not fine, I had no idea that-”

“Christine please, it’s okay,” you interrupted, “where’s Papa?”

“Well I just don’t want you to be mad at me, we’re friends after all, and I just-”

“Christine!” you yelled, drawing the eyes and ears of everybody in the room again, the hall falling silent. Chrstine seemed taken aback, shocked you would yell but she finally quietened.

“I’m... I’m not mad at you...” you continued, voice low to evade the attention of those now paying it very closely to you. “We are fine. I’m not angry. Just... tell me where Papa is.” Christine was baffled, but the crazed look in your eyes was enough to force an answer out of her; albeit, not a very helpful one.

“I-I don’t know... I saw him walk out earlier but he didn’t come back. Did you try the office?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

“Yeah, first place I looked,” you took a step back, wiping your hands over your face in exasperation, trying to think.

“Oh... Maybe his quarters? He gets nervous before these kinds of events, maybe he’s getting ready?” she shrugged. You nodded along, turning as if to head in that direction. “Wait, sister!” she called.

You turned slowly, trying your best to hide the annoyance on your face. Just let me go, you thought to yourself.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. You sighed, realising you must have looked like a crazy person, bursting into the hall all dramatic and demanding she tell you where Papa was. You were frantic, and you must have worried her.

“No. Nothing is wrong, I just... I need to talk to him,” you say plainly. “It’s important, but everything is okay.”

“Okay...” she sounded suspicious, but didn’t press the matter, letting you turn and finally walk – calmly, so as not to draw more attention – back out into the hall. You then skipped into a run once out of earshot, finding your way to Terzo’s quarters. Thankfully, the halls were relatively empty, and you faced no more distractions.

When you reached his quarters, you didn’t even knock. Pleasantries had gone out the window, and with the door unlocked you pushed your way into the door, opening it in haste and stepping inside, letting it slam behind you.

You thought that with the door unlocked, it must have meant he was in here and yet... silence. Stillness. There was nobody, the living room vacant, kitchen empty. You sighed, turning to leave and readying to run through the halls again to find him when-

“Who the fuck thinks it’s perfectly fine to just enter my fucking quarters unannoun-” Terzo bellowed as he stormed out of his bedroom door in the far corner of the apartment, his brain short circuiting when he stepped through the doorway and his eyes fell on you.

His chest tightened, the breath knocked out of him. You were the last person he expected to see rush into his quarters; he thought he was picking a fight with Copia, maybe even one of the Ghouls or Christine but when he saw you stood in his living room, out of breath and flushed pink in the face with an expression that read as distress on your features, he blanked.

Silence fell over you both. Neither knew what to say, too much rattling around inside your heads to fathom any words. All you could do was stare at each other until one of you would finally say something...

“Are... are you okay?” he asked, finally shaking the fog from his brain and taking in how you looked; breathless, clearly panicked, wrapped in your outdoor cloak? He could see mud stains on your boots and the long skirt of your habit, a pink tinge to your cheeks suggesting you’d been running, and smudges of black around your eyes, as if you’d been crying. Terzo could only imagine that the ritual had failed yesterday. That you were here to scream at him for abandoning you, or chew him out for suddenly dropping you when you’d needed his help.

“Do I fucking look okay?” you asked, weakly and with unintentional malice but it made him wince nonetheless.

“Well, no, I...” he stuttered, avoiding your eyes that burned into him.

“You see the state of me and you ask me if I’m okay?” You took a deep breath, shakily. “I had to perform greed yesterday. Without you. You weren’t there,” you cried, fighting back an angry sob. He wouldn’t look at you, too ashamed of the pain in your voice and terrified to see the tears on your cheeks that he knew he had caused. It was his fault you were going to fail this ritual, but he couldn’t... he couldn’t finish it with you.

“Why would you want me there?” he asked, picking at his gloves and entirely unfocussed on you. It made your chest burn.

“Because, I-” you paused. You didn’t want him to know yet, you were getting at something, trying to make a point. “You started this with me. We started this together!” you yelled, “I wanted someone close to me, and I get your Ghouls instead?”

“Oh, per favore,” he scoffed, finally looking up at you. He was reacting with anger, his defence mechanism. He was doing it again; pushing you away, holding you at arms length and making you hate him before you would inevitably find a real reason to... “You’re close with Swiss. And you seemed to have no issue with that on Thursday when Phantom dove headfirst into-”

“Could you just not be bothered anymore? Hm?” You needed him to listen. You needed to see how he reacted. You needed him to confirm what Primo had been saying. “You just thought ‘oh, I’ve helped enough. She can figure it out from here, no biggie’. You abandoned your ‘flock’?!” you yelled, accusing him of not doing the very thing he’d said to you when he’d kicked this whole thing off.

Terzo’s eyes widened, his lips contorting into a grimace and his hands balling into fists at his sides. “So now you’re on my case too, eh? Now I’m not good enough for you either? Meraviglioso, (wonderful,) once again, Terzo, you miss the mark. You FAIL. AGAIN,” he screamed in sarcasm, the sound of his rage frightening you enough to take a step back from him, no matter the fact he was already a good two meters away from you in his living room while you stayed near his front door. His darkened eyes glared at you, challenging you. You stayed mute.

“Go on, tell me more. Tell me how terrible a Papa I am, eh? Tell me how much you despise me, how little I do for this congregation, how disappointing I am. You are not the first, Sorella, and you will not be the last.” The sarcasm was a nasty shade of spite on him, but it did nothing to mask the hurt you saw so plainly now. You hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction from him, all you had wanted was for him to tell you the truth about why he hadn’t shown up yesterday.

“Papa, I just meant-”

“What, _____? Because I’m tired of it. I am tired of trying to do the best I can and knowing that it still is never enough,” his eyes burned with angry tears, ones he swore long ago he’d never shed again. He kept them at bay with a shake of his head. “You know, it’s no wonder you’re losing your faith in Him, Sorella. Not when you have a Papa who disappoints you, so.”

You’d heard enough of this; you couldn’t let him think that was truly what you thought of him. Not anymore, it was breaking you. You took a few steps forward, slowly as if any faster would spook him.

“Why didn’t you come?” you asked him again, stern and strong. He watched you edge towards him, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to collect himself. “Tell me, Papa. Why?” Your voice cracked, coming to a stop behind his couch where you rested your hands on the backrest for stability. Your legs felt like jelly, your head weightless and thrumming.

“B-because, I...” He couldn’t. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t let you in, he’d only wreck it. He couldn’t explain why he’d needed to take a step back without confessing his feelings for you. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved so much better than him.

“I wanted you. I needed you,” you told him, gritting your teeth as you spat the words at him.

“You don’t need me,” he was trying to push you away again, to put up that wall around him. But after your talk with Primo, you could see it so clearly.

“Don’t you tell me what I do or do not need, Papa. Don’t you dare. Because for the longest time, I had no idea what I needed, and now that I finally have some idea, you’re keeping it from me. You’re denying me, when you promised you would help me find it,” you sobbed, “I am telling you I needed you. Hear me!”

Terzo’s eyes burned angrily into you, unable to look away from you as he fought with himself internally. He wasn’t getting it. Or if he was, he was being too damn stubborn to accept it. You couldn’t stop yourself anymore; he just needed to know.

“Do you know why I left when I walked in on you fucking my friend, Papa?” you asked. He dropped his gaze to the floor, chewing on his cheek. He couldn’t look at you out of shame. “Because it hurt. It hurt too fucking badly. Because I had deluded myself into thinking that perhaps I was special to you in some way. And you know why I fucked Copia?”

He visibly winced at your bluntness, those painful images flicking through his mind again. You were special to him, he thought. And it had scared him so much he’d pushed you away and into the arms of another man to exact your jealous-fuelled revenge. He was starting to see it now... But he remained still and unmoving; in denial.

“Because he was just there. And I wanted to get you back. I wanted you to hurt, just like I was hurting. Do you know why, Papa?” Your voice sounded shrill, getting louder and more desperate the longer you berated him. But he just stood there, staring at the points of his shoes. Nothing. Silence.

“Because I love you!” you yelled.

His head snapped up, his eyes wild. He looked furious, as if steam would come shooting from his ears at any second. Under his stare you felt suffocated, just like you had when you’d caught him with Christine. All of the air in the room had been sucked out like a vacuum, your chest tight and unmoving.

He glared at you, scrutinizing you, waiting for the punch line; one that wouldn’t come.

“Say that again,” he demanded, jaw clenched impossibly tightly. You took a deep breath, your whole body tingling in fear. But you stood your ground; you had to.

“I love you,” you told him, firmly. He just kept... staring.

“Again...” He was challenging you. His voice was so dark, a timbre you would usually associate with rage, but something felt different. You persisted.

“I love you.”

His white eye twitched, his chest heaving in the silence.

“...Again.” His voice softened, but only slightly. Had you not been listening, watching so intently, you would have missed it. His stare held up. But you could tell you were getting through... slowly.

“I love you,” you told him again, your own voice softening considerably as fresh, hot tears dripped from your eyes. You meant it, with every fibre of your being. You’d tell him a thousand times until he believed you.

“Again-” his voice cracked, the weight of his resolve beginning to crumble. You took a step towards him.

“Papa-”

“Per favore...” he stopped you from protesting, he just... he needed to hear it again. He shut his eyes, taking another deep breath. “Say it again, per favore.”

With his eyes now shut, his voice shaking with the deep breaths he continued to take, you closed the distance between you both, still terrified you would scare him away.

You lifted your hands, planting your palms gently on his cheeks. He raised his own, circling them around your wrists to hold you there as if you were about to disappear, that you’d turn and run from him when you realised what you were saying, what you were doing. But you were going nowhere.

“I love you,” you told him again.

Despite his eyes being shut, tears still escaped from the corners and dripped down his cheeks to your hands. But you just held him, you let them fall, let him feel...

“Terzo...” you whispered to him, his eyes shooting open to stare into your own when he heard you call him by his name – his real name – for the first time. How beautiful it sounded from your lips. “I love you.”

One last time, unprompted, was enough.

In one quick motion, he pulled you forward and connected his lips with yours in desperation. His hands tightened around your wrists, before one dropped to the small of your back, needing you as close as he possibly could get you. Your grip on his head only tightened, holding him against you while you moulded your lips with his. He whimpered into the kiss – no, he sobbed – giving in to the surge of emotion. Your hands grew wetter as he cried, allowing it to pour out of him as if years of sadness and loneliness were being expelled and healed by just you.

When he pulled his lips from yours, he couldn’t force himself to retreat, holding you close still as you caught your breath with your foreheads resting together. You dragged your thumbs over the tears on his cheeks, smearing his paints in the process but soothing him all the same. His breaths were shaky as he cried. He wanted to speak, to tell you everything on his mind but the words were falling over each other in the fight to be the first spoken.

“Shhh,” you hushed him, “I’ve got you, Terzo. I’m here. I love you.” You hadn’t intended for that to make him cry harder, but it did; the kind of silent, repressed sobbing that a child does when they don’t want to be noticed.

You lifted your forehead from his and waited patiently for him to look at you. There was still so much to say, but you focussed on calming him first.

“Listen to me, okay?” you asked. He gave you a small nod, his reddened and waterlogged eyes searching yours. “You need to know, you are good enough.”

He rolled his eyes then, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Hey! You stop that, you hear me?” you brought his chin back down to look at you, “You are a wonderful Papa. You are the perfect figurehead of this church. You care for your congregation. You make us feel safe, cared for. You make us feel heard and loved. You work so hard, Terzo, I’ve seen it. Fuck the Clergy, and fuck Sister Imperator. You are an incredible Papa, and I am so proud of you.”

A fresh wave of tears fell from his eyes, but this time you cried with him. You meant every word, so sincerely.

“You are good enough, Terzo. You are. And I swear, I’ll put all of my energy into making sure that I’m good enough for you, also,” you promised.

“Amore mio, (my love,) you are more than enough for me,” he cried, pressing his lips to yours again, “Ti amo, Principessa. Ti amo tanto... (I love you, Princess. I love you so much...)”

You pulled him back into a bruising kiss, your tears now falling freely. Terzo’s confession had swelled in your chest, blooming into a beautiful warmth. You’d longed to hear that, for him to open himself up to you and be vulnerable with you. Truly, you had never felt so loved than you had in his arms right now.

With your feelings out in the open, the two of you sank into your kiss this time. There was no rush, no desperation. You allowed each other to melt into it, your lips danced together, creating room for you to taste each other again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers curling into the back of his hair, whilst his snaked around your waist and held you against him.

With each passing second your kiss deepened, neither of you willing to let the other go for more than a millisecond to catch your breath. Terzo had missed your lips so much; just a day without you would have been torture, but four? Four days? He was surprised he’d survived at all.

His tongue grazed your bottom lip, and you welcomed him willingly. Your fingers scratched at his scalp when you tried to pull yourself tighter against him, wishing to feel every part of him engulfing you. Naturally, a heat bloomed in your chest and swam through your veins to light your entire body on fire. Terzo could feel it too, pulsing through his veins over and over to the beat of his heart that rocketed with each tiny little whimper he heard you make.

He took a step back, taking you with him towards the bedroom where he’d appeared from earlier, parting your lips and taking your hands in his to lead you as he walked backwards. He didn’t want to take his eyes off you for a second, scared this was a dream and that looking away would make you disappear from his grasp. You stayed close to him, chasing the high of his kiss while the feeling of his lips still tingled against your own.

“Terzo, I’m sorry I made you feel like-” you began to talk again, like word vomit, wanting to settle any loose ends in your mind about the way you had treated each other recently, but Terzo had other ideas.

“Shhh, principessa, we can talk later,” he said, still taking slow steps backwards as he held you, “Senza pensare, dai, facciamo l'amore. (No thinking, come, make love with me.)”

And how could you deny him, when you wanted nothing more than him...

He stopped just short of the end of his bed, bowing his head to press his lips to yours again. Quickly you were swept up in him, gripping onto his shirt as his hands came to undo the clasp of your heavy winter cape. It fell to the floor around your feet, and his hands came to wrap around your waist again, enjoying the freedom less fabric brought him. Your fingers nimbly undid the buttons to his shirt, lifting it from where he’d tucked it into his slacks and pushing it from his shoulders. His skin felt warm to your fingertips, the hair gathered on his chest as soft as you remembered it.

You took a moment to look up at him, noting the smudged and messy paints his tears and your palms had ruined. It felt like one final barrier between you and him, a mask hiding the man beneath. And you wanted to get to know all of him...

Gently, you pushed the centre of his chest allowing him to step back himself and take a seat on the edge of the bed. He expected you to join him between his knees, to bend at the waist and kiss him again but instead you took a step back, letting his hand drop from yours. His eyes widened in panic, but as he tried to protest, you hushed him.

“I’ll be right back, my love. I promise,” you said earnestly, turning to head through the adjoining door to his bathroom. Flicking on the switch, you looked around to find a washcloth and some gentle soaps for his face, catching your reflection in the mirror. You, too, looked a mess; the black of your mascara had run and pooled under your eyes. You looked too sad; something you didn’t want attached to this memory. And so, before you headed back out to Terzo, you wiped the smudges away, baring your face for him.

Back in his bedroom, Terzo sat nervously playing with his gloved hands until he heard your footsteps approaching him, washcloth in hand. His brows creased in confusion, but you smiled back softly.

“Sit back, Papa,” you instructed, voice gentle and encouraging him to shuffle back. He did as you’d asked, and you hiked your habit up past your knees, now able to plant them either side of his thighs and sitting in his lap. “Relax,” you told him, bringing the dampened and sudsy washcloth to his face and wiping away the grease paint. He wrapped his arms around you, watching with gentle eyes filled with adoration as you washed away the evidence of his breakdown.

Under the paints, his cheeks were flushed pink. As you cleaned, you revealed more parts of him that you were able to adore; the creases in his forehead that showed how hard he worked, the lines at the corner of his eyes that showed how much he smiled. He had a mole under his left eye, a few freckles dotted here and there. It made him all the more beautiful to you with each new detail.

“There,” you smiled, wiping the last of the paints away. “Nowhere to hide now.”

“I don’t ever want to hide from you again, amore mio...” His tenderness felt different, something you had only seen glimpses of throughout the few weeks you had been getting to know him, but you adored it; you adored every side of this man. He raised his hand to remove the veil concealing your hair, tucking it behind your ear as he leaned in to kiss you once again.

You felt completely carefree in his arms, allowing him to unbutton your habit slowly while you trailed your kisses across his cheeks, his nose, forehead and back to his lips where he smiled one of the most genuine smiles you’d seen on him. It was contagious, spreading to your own lips. You chuckled quietly together as you removed your habit, shrugging it off to the floor behind you. He removed his gloves and his hands took their place on your bare waist again, and your lips took their place against his.

With you hovering above him in just your underwear, he couldn’t help but pull you flush against him and deepen the kiss. He wanted you so badly, in a way he’d never had anybody before you – a way he’d never allowed himself to until you. Need swelled within you, your hips rolling against his lap, hands on his chest. You whimpered into his kiss with another roll of your hips, core brushing against his hardening bulge beneath you. His lips passed down your jawline, ghosting over the skin until he could mouth at your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your head rolled back, exposing more to him as you sighed in content.

“You...” he paused, leaving another kiss to your neck, “are my pride and joy, amore mio,” he confessed, holding you tighter when another roll of your hips had him shivering in pleasure. He focussed his kisses further down, mouthing at your collarbone, your sternum, down to the swell of your breasts over the cups of your bra.

Your head swam with emotion, unsure of how to really punctuate how much this meant to you, how much you adored him. You opted to show him, to continue chasing the intimacy.

Terzo reached behind you, easily unclasping your bra and dragging it down your arms until he could lave his kisses over your breasts freely, paying particular attention to your nipples. Every single motion he made was done with care and attention no man had ever given you. You couldn’t help the breathless moans you let slip, nor the tight way your fingers curled in his hair and held him tightly.

Pressure was building in your core, the kind that needed more attention than you had been giving it. Whilst you wanted to enjoy every second with him, you needed more from him; that connection you desired so fiercely. You pushed lightly on his shoulders until he was looking up at you in wonder.

“Lay back, my love. Against the pillows,” you instructed softly. He nodded, shuffling back. You followed, stopping short of his hips in order to reach down and unbutton his slacks. He helped you to shimmy out of them along with his underwear, kicking his shoes off until they hit the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes. You hovered over him then, giving him a chance to drag your panties from your hips and let you shuffle from them too, leaving you both completely bare for the other to see; body and soul.

“Amore, you truly are a wonder,” he whispered, tracing his fingertips down your arms when you sat across his lap once again. You weren’t sure how to reply to him, opting for a smile and another deep, passionate kiss as his arms enveloped you as you lay over his chest.

Now nude, grinding down into Terzo’s lap had your core glazing over his length and hushed moans rising in your chests while muffled by your kiss. He could feel how ready you were for him, how much you needed him and he knew he needed you too. Yet, it was you who made the move to connect the two of you, reaching between you and lining him up to your entrance. Terzo sat up with you then, holding you to him to be closer to you and pepper kisses to your shoulders, back up your neck until he found your lips.

You took him slowly, savouring the stretch and doing everything you could not to rush; with no preparation, you’d need a little longer but the arousal that had gathered made sure there was no pain. And while you sank down, Terzo’s lips made for the perfect distraction, moulding with yours so elegantly as he groaned beneath you.

Now, finally sheathed inside your heat, he felt complete again. He felt connected to you, like each time he’d been here before. In his mind, you were made for him. You were all he wanted, all that mattered.

The first roll of your hips was slow, careful, but it felt dreamy. You’d missed him so completely that finally having him and being so exposed emotionally as well as physically was overwhelming, and you could feel the tear that dripped to your cheek before you knew it was coming. As Terzo pulled his lips from yours, wanting to see you again, he noticed immediately.

“Amore mio, don’t cry... I’m here,” he assured, running his fingers through your hair as you nodded, biting back more. He kissed your cheek where the tear sat, ignoring the saltiness and instead tightening his arms around you until your chests were pressed together.

Together, you lost yourself in the moment, your pace slow enough for both of you to just feel; no rush, no real end goal in sight just yet. Just a moment to enjoy your connection, now bloomed and blossomed into something more beautiful that when you had first been together.

But it couldn’t stay that way forever; not when the heat in your abdomen was growing slowly but surely, and when Terzo was beginning to lose his mind at how good you felt wrapped around him.

In one swift motion and holding you together so he didn’t have to be without you shrouded around his cock, he rolled you onto your back against the pillows and settled himself between your legs. One arm came to wrap around the back of your thigh, pressing it up against your torso for a better angle, and he took control of the way he derived pleasure from you.

His hips rolled into yours over and over, his pace a little faster than before, losing his resolve. He was becoming desperate to have you come apart for him again, to chase your high first and foremost before his own. Sathanas, he loved you so completely. He felt like a fool, a silly old man who’d let his own idiocy come between what could have been such a perfect thing.

“Mi dispiace, amore mio... Mi dispiace così tanto, (I’m so sorry, my love... I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, gritting his teeth in an attempt to stop the tears he could feel coming.

“Shhh, no... Terzo, it’s okay,” you assured him, taking his bare cheeks in your hands and making him look you in the eye. “I’m here now, it’s okay.” You pulled him to you, kissing him and melting the worries away in a heartbeat as he kept up his pace.

“Tell me again, per favore...” he cried, “tell me you love me.” How could you deny him? How could you possibly, right now, not allow him to know once again how much you needed him.

“I love you, Terzo. I love you, I love you...” you repeated between kisses, your fingertips pressing into his hair and gripping as the pleasure inside you built and built thanks to the intimacy of this moment together.

“Cazzo, per favore...” he didn’t know what he was begging for, his pleasure sure enough about to come to a head. He needed you there too, he refused to allow himself his own selfish pleasures without you. He'd been too selfish already...

And so, with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your thigh he used this thumb to draw circles over your clit, sending your head flying back into the pillows and your back arching underneath him, pushing your breasts into his chest as he thrusted more desperately into you. Any attempt at suppressing your moans failed, and they sounded like music to his ears; his darling principessa was singing for him once again.

“Let go, amore. Per favore, let me feel you...” he asked so sweetly, breathless and strained. With a few further strokes to your clit and the relentless thrusting from your love above you, you saw stars. White spots twinkled in your vision and you squeezed your eyes shut, body tensing and convulsing underneath him when every single nerve ending in you exploded. Of all of the orgasms you’d had this week – and yes, there had been a lot – this hit you harder than any. Nothing could compare to the feeling of being loved.

You tightened impossibly around his length, making movement hard for Terzo but he persevered; he couldn’t stop now, he needed to prolong your orgasm, he wanted to you to feel everything.

“Ti amo, principessa. Sei tutto per me, non ti lascerò andare... (I love you, princess. You are everything to me, I won’t let you go...)” His words came out hurried, needing you to hear him, to confess again. Your grip in his hair tightened as you slammed your lips to his, writhing beneath him in the throws of your climax.

Terzo groaned into you, his hips stuttering and his thumb forgetting it’s job on your clit when his own ending washed over him. Like your own, his orgasm hit him harder than any before now. The warmth of his release filled you, coating you and claiming you as his once again. He managed to continue some form of thrusting to prolong his pleasure and yours, until he found himself too exhausted to hold himself up any longer and released your thigh as he collapsed into your chest, his lips falling from yours to the nape of your neck where he lay.

You wrapped him in your arms, pulling him tightly against you when you heard the first sniffle as he caught his breath, too tired to hold back the tears that prickled his eyes now he lay in your arms. Tears of your own fell too; a visceral reaction to hearing your love crying in overwhelm against you. For a while, you basked in the silence around each other and just allowed it all to come out. Given a few minutes to compose himself, Terzo shifted to lay beside you with your arms still wrapped around him.

“I was a fool, ______,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to abandon you...” You stayed quiet, allowing him to say his piece. You felt like he needed that.

“I was so sure I would be a distraction. I didn’t want to come between you and Lucifer. You deserve to have that conversation with him, and yet I fear now I have spoiled that for you...” he sighed, visibly still beating himself up in his head.

“Hey, look at me,” you told him, tilting his chin up to you where he was shocked to see you smiling. “If we haven’t done enough, I don’t care.”

“But amore, your faith... I know how desperately you needed his direction. If I have spoiled this for you, I won’t forgive myself...” he argued, lip trembling.

“Terzo, I have direction. I know what direction I'm heading, and it’s whatever direction you happen to be in,” you told him, gently pushing his hair from his forehead and trailing your fingertips over his cheek to wipe away his tears.

The smile on his face was so genuine, so adoring; you’d never seen him like this before. Barefaced and beautiful; your Terzo.

You leaned in to kiss him again, tenderly and laced with a promise to stay by his side as long as he wanted you with him. And he did; he absolutely wanted you by his side.

“Sorella, you look wonderful,” Secondo smiled, holding his elbow out to you as you joined him outside of his quarters that evening. You had agreed to meet him before the ball, to enter the Great Hall with him and have the first dance at the All Hallow's Ball. You looped your arm through his with a grin, happy to be by his side and accompanying him as his friend and colleague.

“What, this old thing? You know, something I had lying around...” you laughed, an obvious lie when the ballgown you had chosen was nothing short of spectacular. This was the one night a year that the entire Ministry would dress up in absolute opulence, people arranging their outfits months in advance for the most important night of the year. You had been no exception.

Your gown was off the shoulder, a satin material of deep green that complimented your skintone. Corseted and hugging your waist, it flowed freely to the floor with a split that allowed your leg to peek through as you walked. You’d paired it with a string of black pearls; a family heirloom you'd kept safe for years.

“Well, you look bellissima. Come, we mustn’t be late,” he said, beginning the walk through the halls to the Great Hall.

Music flowed through the Ministry, gradually becoming louder the closer you got. You could hear the jubilant chatter of siblings and Ghouls alike, the clinking of glasses, the laughter of a happy congregation. This morning, you had been terrified to face that, sure you wouldn’t be able to match their elation. It had all seemed so daunting, and you would have preferred to hide away from it.

And yet, now... you could only smile along with it.

After your confession to Terzo earlier, you had stayed with him for a short period of time. Reluctantly, you had to allow each other the time and space to ready yourselves for the ball, his role as Papa having to come between that tender moment of simply being together, honestly. But upon leaving his quarters, the relief you felt and excitement to see him again tonight was fuelling you, a revived energy you hadn’t felt for what must be months.

Perhaps you hadn’t completed the ritual; and that was okay. As you had told Terzo, it didn’t matter to you anymore. You had learned enough about yourself through the experience to know where you belonged now, and that was here, in this Ministry, beside your Papa. After tonight, you would work on whatever your relationship would become; and that was more exciting to you than hearing Lucifer’s voice.

The Great Hall looked immaculately decorated... The bright orange drapery that Terzo had complained about earlier that day looked a much more demure burnt orange in the candlelight. The pumpkins from Primo’s patch littered the tables and halls, carved expertly by the most talented of the Siblings in the Ministry. Black candles burned in candelabras and chandeliers so elegantly illuminating the dance floor. Casino tables dotted through the edges of the room, giving everyone a chance to unwind and enjoy the deviant games.

As you entered, a few Siblings turned to Secondo and bowed their head in respect, as one would expect. You smiled proudly at him; although a retired Papa, he deserved that respect whole heartedly, and you felt honoured to be the friend he chose to have accompanying him through his new role. He gave your arm a tight squeeze with his hand, and immediately took you to the dancefloor where Siblings were dancing in pairs and groups to the music played by Terzo’s Ghouls on the stage; a haunting yet jolly classic orchestral melody fit for a spooky evening.

“I may be rusty, Sorella. Perdonami,” Secondo smiled, adjusting his arm to hold your left hand extended, the other resting respectfully on your waist.

“I’m sure you have a few moves left in you, Papa,” you winked, smirking as your feet moved in time with his, remembering from lessons you’d had before previous Balls that you were to let him lead. Quite quickly, the two of you were comfortable enough dancing in time to the three-count waltz the Ghouls were playing.

The night continued, with no sign of your dear Papa just yet; but as per every year, he had to make his grand entrance as part of the festivities an hour or so into the Ball. Instead, you and Secondo had danced and found yourself a drink of champagne; you’d found Dew and Swiss and watched them bicker and fight over who got to dance with you first; or at least, Swiss bickered, Dew just kept swatting him away. Both were equally annoyed when you chose the stuttering Phantom to dance with first instead, laughing it all off with him when you’d settled comfortably onto the dancefloor again.

Eventually, Primo and Secondo headed over to you on the dancefloor to interrupt just as Sister Imperator and a rather decrepit looking Papa Nihil made their way up onto the stage where the Ghouls were playing out another piece of beautiful music, clinking her glass to get the attention of the room. Primo bowed a greeting as much as he could, a sweet and knowing smile on his face when he saw that you, too, were smiling. It must have gone well, he thought to himself.

“Siblings of Sin, Clergy... thank you for coming together on this most important night of our calendar, All Hallow’s Eve!” Imperator announced. The room cheered and clapped together. “Tonight, we celebrate the sinners of past, present and future, and join them in their devotion to The Dark One. As is customary of the evening, I’d like to invite our dear Papa Emeritus the third to join the celebrations, and to anoint our evening in a prayer to Lucifer.”

You could see the slight twitch in the corner of her mouth at the mention of Terzo, her disdain for him buried under the surface. It simply made you roll your eyes with a smug smile; the old crow didn’t matter. She’d never understand Terzo like you did, never accept him as he deserved but now, he at least had you to counteract her unwarranted annoyance of him.

As she finished speaking, Terzo stepped up onto the stage and took to the pulpit as the room applauded. He was dressed in his most elegant robes; purple and black velvet with gold accents, mitre on his head proudly and his hands covered with black leather gloves, gold claws on each finger. He looked so incredibly regal, and your chest swelled with pride in his presence. His eyes searched the crowd, until they settled on you, smiling and clapping for him where you stood. He smiled back, feeling more at peace within himself than he ever had.

“Good evening, Sisters, Brothers and Clergy alike. As the festivities of this evening have already begun, I wish not to take too much of your time. However, please join me in a prayer of devotion to Lucifer,” he began, clearing his throat and opening an unholy prayer book he had brought with him.

“Our Dark Father, on this sacred All Hallow's Eve, we come before You with hearts filled with reverence and gratitude. We lift our voices in worship and devotion, acknowledging Your eternal grace and divine presence.

“On this night of solemn reflection, we bow before You, celebrating our sins and devoting them to you. We seek Your approval and ask for Your guiding hand to steer us towards temptation and lead us onto the path of wickedness. Grant us the strength to devote ourselves to sin and the courage to walk steadfastly in Your ways.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but stare at him in awe, beaming with joy. How could this man ever believe he wasn’t good enough? How could anyone? He exuded confidence, charm, devotion and commanded the room with a charisma that was unmatched.

Primo beside you nudged your elbow, catching your attention with a wink and a smirk. You shared a silent chuckle, affirming to him that yes, everything had gone well, and everything was okay. Primo’s shoulder’s sagged, like a weight had been lifted from them and sighed happily, looking up at his little brother at the pulpit again and refocussing on the prayer with pride.

“As we commemorate this hallowed eve, we remember the deviance and devotion You embody. May this celebration be a reminder of Your teachings and let our gatherings be filled with joy that stems from the knowledge of Your unyielding love for us, your sinners. Help us to embrace this occasion as a time to reaffirm our commitment to Your teachings and to stand resolutely against all that opposes Your divine will. Nema!”

“Nema,” the room cheered, taking a sip of whatever drink they had to hand at the time.

“Now, please! Eat, drink, be merry... We devote ourselves to Him together tonight!” Terzo announced, raising his hands and gesturing for the Ball to continue. The crowds dispersed back to the bars, the games, the dancefloor, whilst Terzo headed to the side of the stage to talk mindlessly with Sister Imperator and his father. The music began again, and the Ball resumed.

“So, I trust my dear fratellino and yourself have uh... talked?” Primo asked, prying for details. You chuckled, nodding.

“We did. It’s all okay, Papa.”

“And what of the Ritual?” he asked; he couldn’t help but be curious. To see it performed and completed in his lifetime would be nothing short of an achievement on your part.

“Ah... Unfinished. But don’t worry, Primo. I think it’s for the better. Even unfinished, I don’t feel so lost anymore...” you smiled, resting your hand on his arm to reassure him that you truly were okay.

“I see. Well, you did the Dark One proud anyway, cara mio. You have come the closest of those I have seen attempt it. And I hope from here, fratello mio will show you nothing but happiness. Just... be patient with him, sí? He will take some time getting used to this feeling, I’m sure,” he said. You nodded.

Primo invited you to dance then, although... he couldn’t move quite as nimbly as Secondo or the Ghouls could and so instead you stepped in place with him, swaying to the music as you talked and laughed as if you’d always been as close to the Emeritus family as this. It almost felt as if you had, unknowingly. There was a newfound connection from the conversations and antics of the week that had solidified you as a close friend to them all. It felt comfortable, as if you had truly found your place in the Ministry. You realised then, that your wavering faith may have been an issue of breaking down your own walls, as well at Terzo’s.

“Papa, mi scusi... I cannot help but notice that you are a terrible dancer, and not at all worthy of the hand of this bellissima principessa,” an instantly recognisable voice interrupted your thoughts and your dance with Primo. “May I suggest I take over, as someone with a little more youth to offer?”

Primo stopped dancing, a scowl on his face of annoyance when he turned to Papa Terzo. “Piccolo bastardo impudente... (Cheeky little bastard...)” he muttered. Terzo held an amused glare before sending a wink your way. It was embarrassing, the way just that made you blush. With a sigh, Primo let you go.

“Comportati bene con lei, sí? (Do right by her, yes?)” Primo said, although the meaning of it was lost on you, your Italian not strong enough to translate, “È destinata a stare al tuo fianco. (She is meant to be by your side.)”

“Sí, lo so... (Yes, I know...)” he smiled gratefully, aware that it was in fact Primo who had helped not only him see clearer amongst this mess, but you also.

As Primo left, he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and held it out for Terzo to take. He pulled you flush to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and his around your waist.

“Papa, people are gonna think...” you began to protest, looking around at the eyes that had settled suspiciously on you both; most notably, Imperator’s.

“Ah, let them. Are they wrong?” he teased, starting to dance to the music. “They would know soon enough anyway, amore mio. I don’t intend to hide you away,” he smiled.

Terzo was a skilled dancer – because of course he bloody was... what couldn’t this man do? - and ignored the many pairs of eyes that watched you both, the whisperings of the gossiping congregation around him. He couldn’t care less for them, not when he had the most beautiful woman, his amore in his arms.

“You look truly beautiful tonight, amore. As you always do,” he told you, eyes scanning over the dress you wore and the pearls settled around your neck. He was mesmerised by you, and you couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Thank you, Papa,” you said shyly, focussing on the patterns of his robes to try and hide your pink cheeks. But it was no use, he could see the effect of his compliment and he chuckled to himself, his hands tightening around your waist.

His gaze stayed on you as you danced together, talked together, laughed together, long into the night.

Unfortunately, as a Papa, he did have to do the rounds at some point during the Ball, leaving you to your own devices with a promise to rejoin you as soon as he could run away from his duties. However, that did leave you with some free time to enjoy the Ball around you, and so you made your way over to one of the many casino games that were dotted around the Great Hall. Blackjack was your game. One of the few casino games you actually enjoyed, and wasn’t solely down to luck. It was more about knowing when to bow out, and when to raise the stakes.

You sat at the table, the Sibling dealing placing two card in front of you, and two in front of the person to your right; Cardinal Copia.

“Oh, hey Cardinal! How are you?” you asked, a little shyly having acted the way you did when he last saw you. The Cardinal was staring at you with wide eyes, a few garbled words attempting to make their way from his mouth before he finally managed to speak.

“F-fine, fine, Sorella. And... you?” he asked, tentatively. He was well aware he had come between something on Sunday, and he was terrified he’d bear the ramifications of his actions.

“All fine. Relax,” you laughed, “I feel like you should know, the other day... I was-”

“I know. I... eh, I saw the look on your face. And on his. But is everything...?” he lingered on the question, unsure how to answer it when there was another person in such close proximity, dealing cards.

“Good. Better than, even. If anything, I think that whole... situation... only served as an epiphany. So, no hard feelings?” you asked, extending a hand for him to shake. He did so awkwardly, but no more awkwardly than he would any other human being who tried to shake this poor man’s hand.

“Sí, excellent, okay... Uh, let’s play?” he asked, gesturing to the cards. You nodded.

You flipped your cards, immediately revealing two jokers. You stared at them, confused. How did the jokers remain in the pack? They weren’t part of the game...

“Excuse me, you dealt me two jo-” when you looked up, the dealer had vanished.

In fact, the entire Great Hall had been plunged into a cloak of darkness. Everything was gone; just a vast expanse of black and dead silence as far at the eye could see. With no light, you had no idea how you were able to see so plainly the blackjack table you were sat at, let alone the cards as if an overhead light were beaming down on you.

You heard a chuckled from Cardinal Copia beside you, except... when you looked, it wasn’t Cardinal Copia at all.

“I couldn’t resist, my dear,” the voice laughed, “a little joke of mine, hm?”

The voice was smooth, like the darkest of Belgian chocolate melting on your tongue beside a fireplace in Winter. The depth of the timbre rivalled the deepest parts of the ocean, and yet was as calm as a serene lake in the height of Summer.

The man in the Cardinal’s spot was somewhat older, you would have guessed in his early 60’s by the silver of his long hair tied in a sleek pony tail at the nape of his neck and the beard perfectly groomed on his face. But his form was well kept; fit and healthy with a natural looking bulk to him behind the lapels of his black velvet suit. He was strikingly handsome, a silver fox, no doubt.

He reached over to your cards and tucked them into the inside pocket of his suit, sending a wink your way as you gawped at him.

“A-are... are you...?” you stuttered, unsure of what you were witnessing but in your mind there was only one explanation.

“Lucifer, my child. A pleasure to meet you,” he bowed his head, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Your heartbeat raced inside you, thrumming in your ears like a hummingbird. “Ghoul!" he called out.

A Ghoul stepped up to the dealer’s position from the shadows, his mask glinting on the light that didn’t exist. He began to deal more cards, resuming the game of blackjack.

“B-but... I never finished the ritual,” you stumbled, all formalities you thought you would have in this moment lost completely in your attempt to string together what on earth was happening. Lucifer just laughed at you, flipping his cards over and playing against the dealer. Your cards remained untouched.

“Is that so? Well, I haven’t been wrong, yet...” he teased.

“Then how-?”

“My dear, the only sin you think you didn’t perform was ‘pride’, but I’m here to tell you that you did, with quite some flair... All those tears and confessions of love. It was quite touching, I must say.”

You cast your mind back to your afternoon with Terzo, when you’d confessed your love for each other and had the most intimate, emotional sex of your life. And you’d told him you were proud of him...

“Yes, that. But Terzo had told you at the beginning that if you were to bestow the sin upon someone else whilst still being involved in the act of carnal lust itself, then that also merits a performance of sin, did he not?” You nodded dumbly, following along, “yes, well, you are Terzo’s ‘pride and joy’, I recall him saying? You had him thinking, for a moment, that he was proud to be your papa, and proud to be yours, my child. That’s enough for me!” he explained, “Ah-ha! Twenty one, Ghoul. Pay up.”

The Ghoul handed Lucifer some chips, taking his cards from him and starting a fresh round. Yours still remained untouched and face down on the table. Lucifer nodded towards them, encouraging you to play, and so you flipped the first as per the rules, and joined him in a round together.

“So please, child; you performed this ritual to talk to me. Speak freely, I’ll offer what assistance I can,” he promised. He leaned on the edge of the table by his forearms, ready to listen to you as the game continued.

“Well, I... I was lost, Your Eminence. I wasn’t sure where my path was headed. I didn’t think I had done enough for you. You speak to my siblings, but never me and I supposed I wanted to ask... what are they doing that I’m not?”

Lucifer laughed at you; a hearty, genuine laugh.

“Oh, my child... You want to know what they’re doing instead of you?” he asked, grinning wildly before leaning towards you and lowering his voice, “they’re lying.” Your eyes were wide and brows furrowed in confusion. “Yes, I promise you. They’re lying!” he sat back up straight, “hit me,” he spoke to the Ghoul, who dumped another card to the table.

“But...”

“It’s a bragging thing, they each want people to know how important they are, or how hard they worship. I can assure you, the only people in your Ministry I have ever spoke to directly is each Papa during his ascension. I don’t have the time to talk to every person who worships me. Those siblings are liars, it’s simply a contest of ‘daddy loves me more’,” he laughed.

You felt silly, like you’d been fooled by those around you. Your head sagged in defeat; and you’d based the majority of your wavering faith on that.

“But you did need direction, dear, I'll give you that. You felt stagnant, yes? Without purpose? Each and every day the same, day after day after day....” he gestured his hands in circles, his tone over-exaggerated to mock-droning in a boring monotonous routine. He pointed again at your cards, telling you to flip them and play. You did so, hitting 19 on your first two.

“Ooh, will you risk it?” he asked, shimmying his shoulders and biting his lip in a playful challenge. “Or do you play it safe, as you have been for years?”

His euphemism wasn’t lost on you, and so you decided to risk it.

“Hit me...” The Ghoul dealt you another card, a two of hearts. How fitting.

“Aha! See, a little risk pays off,” he winked as the Ghoul handed you some chips and took the discarded cards back, shuffling them again while Lucifer continued. “Do you want to know your purpose, my child? I mean... that’s why we are here, is it not?”

“I-if it’s not too much trouble, Your Eminence,” you say sheepishly, feeling now like you had bothered him over a silly little belief that you weren’t as good as your lying siblings. It all felt very high school, now...

“How sweet of you... No trouble at all, my dear. Ghoul, deal us in.” The Ghoul did as asked, placing four cards face down in front of you and Lucifer together. Lucifer waved his hand over the four of them, and moved to pick up the first.

When he flipped it, the card showed none of the suits you knew in a standard deck of cards. Instead, it had a picture of the typical depictions of the Devil. A beast, half-man, half-goat sat atop a podium. A nude man and women stood either side, chained by the neck to the podium however the chains looked loose, as if they could simply remove them and run free but chose to stay chained to the block, imposing limitations on themselves.

This was a tarot card; traditionally drawn. Your first card, was The Devil.

“Oh look, it’s me!” Lucifer smiled, “Hello.”

You stared between him and the card for a moment, astonished.

“Usually, this card means you need to re-evaluate your connection to things or people. I believe you’re doing that already, yes? What is keeping you chained up? What is holding you back? I would say, my child, that was... you. Would you agree?” he explained, and yes, you did agree.

“Yes...”

“Good. That’s why I'm here; you wish to free yourself. But look, these people in the card... they look like they could easily free themselves, no?” You nodded along. “Exactly. So, this is you, on your path to freeing yourself. Wonderful. Next please, Ghoul.”

The Ghoul flipped the second card for you both, revealing a picture of a man and woman, holding hands and completely nude, with an angel above them with dark robes and wings. The Lovers.

“This one is fairly obvious, yes? Yourself and Terzo have confessed your love for one another. Excellent. Brava. I’m glad you could come to that conclusion yourselves; it’s certainly made this easier on me,” he laughed. “This typically symbolises a union, wanting to accomplish something together with another too. I think in both cases, we can say that this card works well for you both.”

Lucifer gestured to the next card for the Ghoul to flip. The picture revealed a man dressed like a court jester stood at the edge of a cliff. He looked as if he was about to step off the edge and plummet, but he stared dreamily at the sky as if the heavens would save him. The Fool.

Lucifer laughed at this one, slapping his hand on the table as he roared. You couldn’t help but smile at his laughter; a beautiful sound to hear from the Dark One. But ‘The Fool’ unnerved you. Who exactly was the fool? Were you, too, about to fall from the edge of a cliff, blissfully unaware of the danger beneath you?

“Oh, forgive me, my child. This fool does make me laugh. Look at him; as if the heavens would save him...” he sighed, regaining composure. “No, no... Do you see the rose in his hand? A symbol of love. This man is a fool indeed, or at least he has been. I think yourself and your dear Terzo have been quite foolish, have you not?”

You had; you could admit that. Both of you had acted in a ridiculous way and hurt each other in the process.

“Fear not, that foolishness is over. No, this card is symbolising a new path. Both yourself and Terzo are ready to embark on a new journey now. You, my dear, are specifically to start on a new spiritual path. Your faith in me was wavering – and believe me, I take no offence. But now... what do you believe in, my dear? Tell me.” He encouraged you to speak, and only now did you realise how quiet you had been throughout all of this.

“W-well... My Lord, I've read all about the demi-gods, would-be gods, papas of old, demons, devils... I searched for the longest time for information, and I tried so desperately to get closer to you, and I feel as though I have,” you explained.

“Closer than most,” he winked, alluding to you being one of the few who’d ever had the chance to speak directly with him.

“Yes, exactly. And I thank you for coming to me, Your Eminence. Truly, but... But if there's one thing, just one thing out of that entire pantheon... I believe in him."

The Devil’s smile widened into a bright grin as he leaned on his arms.

“Oh, I am a romantic...” he teased, “and yes, I see that in you. Your belief in him is stronger than anyone’s and whilst I do stand before you as you so wished I would, I know you would defy me entirely if only he asked you to.” He quirked his eyebrow, taunting you to disagree with him, but you couldn’t and you knew it. You looked down in shame.

“Again, I take no offence. I couldn’t possibly, when the two of you are so destined for each other. Even I cannot stand in the way of your bond. But don’t you worry – he won’t ever ask you to defy me. Now, would you like to see the final card, child? You know you’re on a new path, but would you like to know what exactly that path entails?” he asked, reaching a hand to sit on your shoulder, his palm burning hot against your skin.

Part of you wanted to know. Part of you didn’t. There was a fear, a simmering dread inside you that worried it was something you couldn’t fulfill, but then... if Lucifer himself is setting you on this path, then even he had every belief this was the correct one for you. And so, you nodded, ready for whatever the final card was.

The Ghoul flipped it at Lucifer’s command. The card showed a woman, sat and holding a book in dark robes. Either side of her sat two pillars; one black, one white. A moon sat at her feet, and atop her head was a headdress of the three lunar phases. The High Priestess.

You looked at the card, confused. You had expected something a bit more telling, but from the picture alone, you could gather nothing. Lucifer saw your confusion, and took your hand in his, holding it between both and forcing your attention to him.

“I’ll explain, don’t panic,” he smiled comfortingly. “The High Priestess... she hints at something hidden preparing to come forward. She advises you to have awareness around yourself, and your spirituality. Of the things around you. You’re ready to accept the important next stage of your life.”

You took a deep breath; all you could think of was that next stage with Terzo.

“There are things that would give away to someone in the know just exactly the bond you have with him...” Lucifer began, as if reading your mind again, “Did you notice when you first performed lust that he took his gloves off, my dear?”

You thought back, picturing when he’d made you bite the fingertip of it and drag it from his hand. You blushed at the memory, knowing the Dark One had seen everything. But now was not the time to get shy.

“He did that each time with you, did he not?” You nodded. “He isn’t supposed to. I warned him during his ascension, the Papas wear gloves for a reason. His contact, his touch, was saved for the only person it was ever meant for now that he was a Papa. And without even thinking about it, he took them off for you.”

The confusion in your mind swam; it had seemed so insignificant but when you thought back to catching him with Christine, as painful as that memory was, he had still been wearing his gloves then...

“Not to mention the removal of his paints, your second night together. A very similar meaning there; barefaced Papas are saved for those who truly see them. Do you comprehend what I’m saying, my child?” he asked, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

Truthfully, you didn’t. You were trying to piece it all together, searching the texts you’d studied as a younger sibling and trying to find what any of that meant other than the fact that there was a connection of some sort; a bond.

“The High Priestess is a figurehead of feminine power, my dear. The lunar cycles on her headdress represent the three stages of womanhood: maiden, mother, crone. She has appeared here, because she is showing you your feminine power. One that is hidden inside you, preparing to come forward.

“You are his; destined to be. Child, you are his Prime Mover.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. That term... you’d heard it before, many years ago. It was a destiny, a divine path for a woman meant to be at the side of a Papa. Not every Papa had one, and it was incredibly rare to find her at all. There hadn’t been another Prime Mover since the early 1800’s. The pull you felt towards Terzo, the almost instant connection and ferocity of your love after just a couple of weeks made sense now.

Prime Mover.

You were the feminine figurehead of the Satanic Church; Papa’s other half, his Queen, for lack of a better term. Your rightful place was at his side, leading in the name of Lilith herself. The power that was bestowed upon Terzo during his ascension was destined for you too.

“I-I... can’t be. I’m not cut out for that... responsibility,” you protested, shaking your head and removing your hand from Lucifer’s as the shock overcame you.

“I chose you for a reason, my dear. You are the one, because I know that you are cut out for this. Your devotion for the last sixteen years proves that to me, but I knew it the moment you were born. This is your birthright,” he explained, his expression more serious than you’d seen it before. “It’s coming, my dear, and you can’t stop it.”

Lucifer stood, towering above you now on his feet and stepped closer towards you.

“They’ll know as soon as they see you, my dear. The Emeritus line bears the mark of the Divine,” he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours gently in a kiss that felt otherworldly and yet, not in the slightest bit romantic. You closed your eyes, your head feeling light and airy as you melted into his kiss. And then, he stepped away, your eyes fluttering open.

“...And now, so do you.”

You looked at him in confusion, seeing him smirk at you and run his fingers down the left side of your face. He looked... proud? Admiring you for a moment too long.

“You need to go back, my child. You need to show them. I’ve enjoyed our little talk, but for the time being... you must go.”

You panicked, not ready to go back yet; what if you had questions? What if you needed His guidance again? You had no idea what to do from here. If anything, you were more confused now than when you entered this strange little void.

“W-wait, please... What if I have questions? I don’t know how to do this, Lucifer, please!” you begged, reaching for him. He held your hands and steadied you, his touch instantly soothing.

“Don’t panic. I will see you again soon. We’ll talk again, at your ascension. For now, just show them.”

“Show them what?” you cried, tears prickling at your eyes. Lucifer just smiled, stepping back from you and raising his hand. Before you knew it, his fingers snapped, and you were plunged into a black void.

Lucifer vanished, and the stool you sat on as well as his and the blackjack table disappeared and you fell, endless falling through nothing. Your limbs flailed and ballgown billowed as you fell into nothing, the weightless feeling terrifying you the longer you dropped.

Until finally, you hit the floor and your eyes shot open.

With a start, you awoke, desperately throwing your hands out to your sides for purchase. You gripped onto silk, looking beneath where you lay to see familiar purple and black bedding, and feeling a soft mattress under you.

“A-amore?” you heard his concerned voice from the corner of his room. He sat beneath the only light he had on; a small lamp stood next to him. You remained shrouded in mostly darkness, confusion sweeping over you until you settled on him.

“Terzo... what...?” you began, unable to finish the sentence as you looked around the room; a small part of you wished you’d seen Him. You weren’t done with your questions yet...

“You collapsed at the blackjack table, amore. But... no one could find anything the matter in the infirmary. You’ve been out for hours...” he stood, worried and careful, sitting at the edge of the bed and reaching for your hand that still gripped his sheets as if you would start falling again at any moment. You looked up at him then, finally seeing the worry lines etched into his paint. But when Terzo saw you, his expression changed from one of deep concern, to one of immense shock.

His jaw dropped, eyes widened and brow creasing. The hand on top of yours smacked over his mouth and he stood quickly, backing up until his back hit the full-length mirror in the far corner of the room.

“T-Terzo...? What’s happening?” you asked, fear spearing you through the chest.

“Y-you... your...” he couldn’t speak, his voice trembling as if in fear. He pointed instead, his gloved hand raising to your face.

The fear propelled you, forcing you up and off of Terzo’s bed to stomp towards him, fumbling with the skirt of your ballgown only to try to comfort him, calm him down but he moved out of your way just a step to the side and you were left staring at your own reflection.

Even in the dim light, you saw it. You couldn’t miss it.

Your left eye had turned almost completely white, save for the pupil, blown out in the centre. Lucifer had bestowed the Divine mark on you.

‘Show them’ he had said. He meant... show them your mark.

“T-Terzo... He did this. He came to me,” you panicked, reaching for him. He let you grab his arms, holding you too when he snapped himself from his initial shock. “He showed me m-my path... He told me that I’m-”

“Prime Mover...” Terzo finished your sentence. He knew what that mark meant for you. “You’re my... Prime Mover?” He asked, the words sounding more like a desperate gasp. You just nodded at him, your hands squeezing at his arms and tears spilling over your cheeks. You found yourself smiling – grinning, even.

“I’m yours; I was always supposed to be,” you laughed in shock, biting your lip to try and contain the wild grin as more tears fell.

Terzo couldn’t take his eyes off you, staring at the mark that held so much meaning that it was overwhelming. He brought his hands to your cheeks, holding you as you gripped his wrists.

“Supposed to be mine,” he breathed, his lips curling up at the edges as elation started to settle in, his panic and shock wearing off. “You’re... you’re mine, principessa?” You nodded frantically.

And Terzo couldn’t help but laugh. Out of relief, out of disbelief... he couldn’t tell but he knew he was overjoyed. Words failed him, and instead, he pulled you to smash his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. He had hoped after today you would remain together, of course, but this? He could never have predicted this, never seen this coming.

But now, everything made sense.

“Tell me, amore. Tell me everything He said to you, what did He show you?” He asked, pulling you back to the edge of his bed to sit and explain your vision. You told him about the blackjack, about how you’d completed the ritual, about the tarot cards. You told him each one’s significance in your past, present and future, and he gleamed at you the whole time, in awe.

“He told me to ‘show them’... I think He meant this?” You said, pointing at your eye. “I didn’t know... Not until I just saw. This is the Divine mark, isn’t it?” Terzo nodded, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone underneath it.

“And it looks so beautiful on you, amore,” he said dreamily, “my Prime Mover...” The happiness in his expression as he took in this news was evident, and it only made your heart swell.

“He said something about an ascension?” you mentioned, confused and hoping Terzo may have an answer for you.

“Sí, you will have one... We will need to prepare for it, of course, but that makes you... my equal. At least, in the Ministry hierarchy. I’m to believe that you are, in fact, worlds above me... But yes. You will ascend to Prime Mover with me, principessa.”

You couldn’t describe how you felt in that moment; an intoxicating cocktail of happiness, love, pride, and relief. Not only had you completed your ritual, but you had found your purpose. You had found your place in the ministry, in your life, in the world... and it was by Terzo’s side.

“We’ll share everything, cara mio. My role extends to you, and I can think of no one better to don my colours, to help lead this congregation, to help spread the word of our teachings and grow this church. Lucifer knew what he was doing when he picked you, that’s for certain,” he beamed, leaning into you to kiss you once again. He was so in awe of you, so in love with you, it was almost sickening.

“Lucky for me, purple is my colour,” you smirked as you sat back, hinting at Terzo’s papal colours and adoring the idea of sharing that with him, of matching with him.

“Oh, I remember. Vividly,” he smirked, his mind wandering back to that first time you had slept together. “Come, amore. People were worried for you, we thought you were sick. And Lucifer has asked you to show them your beautiful new mark, no?” he stood, pulling you to your feet with him and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I can’t wait to show Sister Imperator this...”

“Perhaps we show her first, hm?” you smiled wickedly, pulling him closer to you by the stole of his robes.

“Oh, principessa... It might just send her into a coma. Or worse...” he teased, his lips hovering close to yours.

“Here’s hoping...” you laughed evilly. Terzo threw his head back in a deep laugh, one that vibrated his whole chest.

“Oh, you are so my Prime Mover...” Terzo snickered, leaning in to engulf you in another breathtaking kiss; a final private moment together before he proudly paraded you back through the halls to anyone and everyone who had ever doubted him.

His pride and joy.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading all the way to the end of this fic. I'm so grateful, and truly I can't believe the amount of love on this. I'm in total awe, and I hope you'll join me for the next one...

Happy Halloween, Ghesties! 🎃

Prev: Day 6 - Greed

A huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading, and @adinferix for fine tuning the Italian translations! 🖤

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@call-me-little-sunshine84 @thew0man @zombiesnips-blog @ghuleh-recs @popiaswife @anamelessfool @enchantedbunny @haelithra @aslutforgreyhair @togetherasone @lilylovesdew @copias-sewer-rat @copiaspet622 @deetz-ghuleh @loudwombatmugkid @nimbusghoul @portaltothevoid @angellayercake @sodoswitchimage @siouxbauhaus @lydz1977-blog @bitchywitchygardener @sacrificialsake @the-did-i-ask @ghostfangirlsweden @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @copiasprincipessa @gothicwonderlust @ladymer @ghulehunknown @onlyhereforghost @solluna00 @nijiru

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bring-forth-his-sac · 6 months ago

Note

Hiiii I’m the anon who sent the ask about whether I could send a request even tho it might take a while so I don’t forget!

I always have ideas for fanfics but I cannot write for the life of me 😭 so if you don’t wanna write this it’s all good :)

so I had an idea where it’s a non-apocalyptic world & the reader/character is famous? like they’re a singer & they just started dating negan & he hears the songs they wrote about him & it’s just fluffy? again you don’t have to write this it’s just an idea I had 🥺🫶🏻

sorry this took so long!! thank you sm for your patience <333 also my friend helped me with the actual lyrics in this which I am so grateful for because I don't have a musical bone in my body

pairing: Negan x singer!Reader

tags: alternate universe, established relationship, fluff, modern AU, famous AU, love songs, Negan needing to mention his dick in every convo lol

word count: 1.7k

It’s still early in the evening and yet there’s snores coming from the other room.

Negan sits on the sofa, legs stretched out. He was waiting for the melodic sounds of your piano to waft out of the room but after a few minutes, all that has emerged from your study are soft snores.

He debates going in and disturbing your solitude. While Negan knows you wouldn’t mind his company, he likes to give you your own time to indulge in music.

Music has always been a big part of who you are and it’s something Negan has supported from the beginning.

He understands that for you, music is like your personal diary, a sanctuary where you pour out all of your emotions and transform them into a heart-wrenching ballad or the catchiest pop song he’s ever heard.

With another snore drifting out from your study, Negan sighs and gets up.

As of recent, you’ve been consumed by a wave of newfound inspiration, tirelessly working on numerous songs. It’s as if lightning has struck, igniting a sudden surge of motivation and encouraging you to put your heart and soul into your work.

Piano keys, the strumming of guitars and your voice has filled Negan’s ears as you put finishing touches on song after song.

Even though he's been eager to hear a sneak peek, you've chosen to keep the new songs private until they're complete. Nevertheless, Negan has already tried to convince you otherwise. He can’t help it, as soon as he knows you’re crafting some new song, he wants to know everything about it.

But you’ve always remained steadfast and not let him have a sneak peek, even when he gives you those puppy dog eyes.

Creeping into your study, Negan’s eyes immediately go to your figure. Slumped over your desk with loose papers everywhere, you greet him with another snore. Negan smiles at the sight, immediately deciding that you need 100% relaxation for the rest of the night.

He weaves his way through the room, making sure not to step on the fallen guitar picks that have found a home on the fuzzy carpet. The walls of the room are lined with empty cases of instruments, music stands that have been pushed aside and Negan’s favourite armchair.

It’s what he always sits on whenever you invite him in to listen to what you’ve been working on. Although there are some more steamy memories too that truly cement it as being his favourite leather armchair.

Negan approaches your desk silently, careful not to disturb your peaceful sleep. Your laptop hums with life, displaying what he assumes must be a compilation of beats that are on the verge of being made into a cohesive rhythm. Making sure everything is saved, he shuts down the laptop for the night.

“Baby,” he nudges you carefully “you keep sleeping like that and you’ll be complaining ‘bout a bad back in no time”.

You respond with a soft grunt, your fatigue winning as you stay asleep.

Negan chuckles, finding your determination to nap utterly adorable. He takes a casual look around your desk, skimming over the various musical notes jotted down that he can't make heads or tails of, until he spots something else.

Lyrics.

Small fragments of verses, written out on scrap pieces of paper and sticky notes. His eyes impulsively scan what he can see, yearning for that sneak peek you’ve denied him.

Moving carefully, he picks up one of the sticky notes and reads it.

“In every moment, I feel the spark. You’re the love that lights the dark”.

Negan has seen you weave song about your past experiences and the people in your life, but never has he thought that he might become the subject of your next ballad.

He glances down at your sleeping form as if you’ll pick up on his questioning look. Not fully believing it, Negan grabs another sticky note.

“A leather jacket, stories untold… with that smirk, you take control”.

As it is written, so it shall be. A smirk graces Negan's face as he looks down at the paper, slowly nodding to himself. Jackpot.

You’re finally writing a goddamn song about him!

Negan doesn’t want to say it’s about time but he’s definitely been thinking about you serenading him with his own song for a while now. He blames his ego for that fantasy.

“Oh darlin’, you writing this for me?” He asks with a grin. Negan lets the sticky notes fall back to the desk and he wraps his arms around you, his chest against your hunched back and embracing you in a hug you don’t even know you’re in.

Feeling his arms around you, you slowly begin to come to. Your eyes flutter open, instantly feeling comfortable.

“Negan?” You mumble groggily, your brain still waking up.

He hums, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek “Your world just light up?”.

“Wh-what?” a confused pout forms on your face as you move your head to look at him.

Nuzzling in by you, he reluctantly pulls back just enough so he can gesture to the first set of lyrics. “I mean, I am the love that lights up the dark, right?” he grins.

Your tired confusion suddenly shifts to panicked realisation, instantly straightening up. “Negan! Did you— No!“ you babble on hurriedly, your eyes darting to the notes on your desk “You can’t read those!”.

“Oh sweetheart, I think it’s too late for that,” he kisses your head before standing upright “and for the record, I am honoured to be your muse”.

You roll your eyes, knowing that you can’t be annoyed when you’re the one leaving bits of your next song scattered across your messy desk.

“I never said you were my muse” you point out.

Negan thinks for a moment, slyly looking for another scribble of lyrics. “Every word is his weapon, every laugh’s a tease, but in his dangerous charm is where I find my release” he reads out another excerpt, spotting it marked with musical notations.

“Hey!” You quickly try to cover the entirety of the desk, your arms spreading out over as many sheets as possible. You pout up at him, your bottom lip jutting out.

“What? I like it, it’s a good thing” he assures you, kissing your pout away “about time you let them damn fanboys know I’m your one and only. Maybe now they’ll fuck off and stop bombarding your DM’s”.

With a scoff, you warily stand and try to clear your desk. Gathering all the papers into a somewhat neat pile, you defend “Those are my fans you’re talking about!”

With a smug smirk, Negan lays a single finger on top of the stack of notes “And it’s me you’re singing about, so they can kick rocks”.

You feign annoyance but it’s clear just how much this means to him. If you’re being honest, you weren’t sure how he’d react to a song about him.

Despite Negan always being supportive, you weren’t sure if that extended to a pure love song all about him. A part of you was scared he would think it’s cringe or too much, but the look on his face says the opposite of that.

Maybe it’s your exhaustion but it’s as if Negan radiates a soft glow, reflecting the pride he feels. Those damned eyes, a perfect swirl of hazel hues makes you melt.

“Hmph… suppose you have a point” you let him take the win, giving him another kiss.

“I always do,” he replies, leaning into your kiss “now, how’s about we have a nice relaxing night of being couch potatoes. Sound good to you or do you want to go back to snoring on your desk?”.

You can’t help but huff, denying his claim as you stretch your tired limbs. "I do not snore!" you protest, defensive humour lacing your tone.

Negan wraps an arm around your waist, in case you’re unsteady on your feet considering you just woke up .

“How would you know? You’re asleep when you do it” he replies, helping you step over things within the messy study.

“But I don't…” you trail off, yawning.

He lets out a light laugh at the timing of your yawn. “What? Don’t sleep or snore?” Negan teases “it’s alright, darlin’… snoring is like singing in your sleep, it’s your musicality! Damn, I guess that’s means you’ve been giving me a private concert for the past twenty minutes”.

It’s tempting to resist his claims but you give in to the small smile that tugs at your lips. No matter what, Negan has a way of turning every aspect of you into an endearing quality, constantly finding ways to appreciate even your most mundane traits. It’s a talent, truly.

Relenting, you lean against Negan, allowing yourself to melt into his embrace as you both move towards the door.

“Y’know, I could always help with the song too” he offers, making you laugh in an instant.

“You? Co-write a song?” You question, turning off the light and wandering back through your home, Negan still side by side with you.

“Yeah, I was thinking something like…” he thinks for a moment, mentally arranging the words in his head before saying “when my guy sees me, he gets hard as a brick, but how can I be mad, when he’s got that big dick”.

He gives you a grin, utterly proud of his lyrics.

You giggle, expecting no less from him as you drag Negan on to the couch with you. “Oh wow, I didn’t realise I was dating a poet” you praise.

“What can I say, doll,” Negan nuzzles in beside you “you’re not the only one full of surprises”.

With a wink, Negan gives you one last kiss before you both get comfy on the couch together, ready for a night of relaxation.

#negan fanfiction #negan smith fanfiction #negan x reader #negan x you #twd negan #negan #negan smith #negan twd #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jdm x reader #the walking dead negan #negan smith x female reader #twd fic #alternate universe #drabble #x reader #request #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you

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yinyuedijun · 1 month ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. Spread the self-love!

thank you to @hash-slinging-slasher-trash and @stellamancer for tagging me in this! </3 I had a lot of fun doing it!

here are my five fics, please do be careful and read the warnings for each if you decide to give them a chance!!

higher than the mountain, deeper than the sea

Touya watches you stare feebly out the window, your fingers curled around those useless flowers he bought, and he finally understands why his pathetic excuse of a father could never find the words to apologize to his mother.

notes: my masterpiece my trainwreck my baby my arch enemy. no piece has ever creatively pushed me like this before and no piece ever will again. I think I sold part of my soul to write it and now it haunts me forever. dark content.

there's a bluebird in my heart

On November 18th, 1988, the Gun Devil kills 57,912 people in Japan and displaces thousands more.

In a gymnasium full of grieving, starving strangers, you meet a boy who is as alone as you.

He's the only thing you have, and the only thing you'll lose.

notes: I have a very combative relationship with this story. it has never cooperated with me and it probably never will. I think I lost part of my lifespan in the writing process 💀 regardless, this fic is also my baby. dark content.

translation

Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

(Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

notes: this fic is my peak. I am not kidding. I will never write anything so good again. it's also the first completed story on this list (yay!). angst, nsft.

situationship

You are both the most diligent worker at Sakamoto's Store and the most hypersexual person that Shin knows. Overhearing your thoughts and accidentally seeing your fantasies routinely leads to profound psychic damage for him, as well as the most poorly timed boners in the world.

All of this only gets worse when the two of you start hooking up.

notes: this fic is my only proof that I can write fun things sometimes 😭 I'm also biased because I am experiencing immense lust for shin rn so of course my only shin fic is a current fave. I think the writing is actually pretty tight too even if it's not the most polished! smut, comedy.

nightflower

Your place in the world was one of a tool. This was true of every slave: you were all things to be used. Kakavasha understood this about you, and he understood this about himself. It was how he survived all those years ago, and it’s how he survives now. And so, when Aventurine goes into his first heat in years and decides to suffer it alone, you can only think of one way to get him to accept your help: You offer to let him use you.

notes: I had a really hard time choosing number five. it was between this and desire path. I think the two are tied but I went with night flower because it's slightly less likely to get me assassinated ADLFJSKDJS. dark content.

tagging some of my favourite writers + writers whose works I want to dig into!! @prettyboykatsuki @seoafin @seravphs @saetiate @madaqueue @ariiadnes @mangostarjam (no pressure ofc!!)

#yueshuo

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oceaneyesinla · 8 months ago

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This was written in honour of Softie Sunday, thank you for the inspiration Rei!!!! <3 @peachsukii

Never Stop (Wedding Version) by SafetySuit was running through my head when I wrote that ending - it's such a sweet song 🥹

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Shoto knows you're working on ... something; he can hear your happy little giggles every so often, and he can practically feel the joy radiating off you from across the garden. You asked him not to peek, though, and so he doesn't - content to bask in your presence from afar while he builds the new garden table you both picked out the week before.

Of course you had offered to help him, sweet eyes worried as you fretted over him and lips slipping into a little pout. He insisted you rest though - you're still sporting an ankle brace after a nasty fall during a villain fight, and he's determined to make sure that you don't lift a single finger while you're recovering. He can still remember the sheer terror that shot through him as he watched you fall; eyes closed and limbs limp. It was only minutes until Denki confirmed he had you and you were alive, but it felt like a lifetime when he was waiting to hear whether his world was falling apart or not.

He pushes the memory aside - there's no need to focus on what could have happened, when he has everything he ever wanted right here. You're safe, humming to yourself in the garden of the house you bought together, and he can't help the smile that lifts up his lips as he thinks about you and the future the two of you are building.

He doesn't need to be facing you to know when you move; after this long, he has a sixth sense when it comes to you. You're coming closer, and he can picture your pretty smile in his mind - it's the one you always wear when you look his way, sweet and soft and full of all the love he knows in his soul you feel for him. He's doubted a lot in his life, but he'll never doubt your devotion - not when he's equally as adoring.

He's crouched down, screwing one of the wood sections into place and he feels you press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head before you place something on top of his head, your fingers brushing ever so gently against his hair. Placing his tools down on the grass, he twists to look up at you, falling in love all over again with the bright spark in your eyes and the happy grin splitting your face. You look beautiful, the afternoon sunlight surrounding you in a golden glow.

Pushing up to standing, he leans in to press a kiss to the tip of your nose then your forehead, relishing the little giggle it pulls out of you. Your arms wrap around him and he swears he can see hearts in your eyes as you look at him - probably reflecting the ones in his own.

A few stray strands of hair are falling into your face, and he brushes them away with a featherlight touch, "Are you planning to tell me what you put on my head, or should I start guessing?"

You look delighted, "I made you a little present. You look so pretty!"

You're pulling out your phone and a few taps later, you hold it out to him, camera open so he can see himself. His head is adorned with a crown of wildflowers - you must have been sitting in the patch of them next to the house. It's your favourite part of the garden, and he can just imagine you there, legs criss crossed and bathed in sunlight.

"It's beautiful, love. It would suit you better, though." It always makes his chest feel ready to burst when you do things like this - treating him like he's a masterpiece created by an artisan, like he's something to be cherished.

"Nuh uh! It suits you, Sho!" Your smile is brighter than the sunlight surrounding you both, "How is the table going? Do you need anything?"

He reaches up to his head, lifting the flower crown with infinite care, as if he's holding the most delicate pottery, and placing it on your head, pressing another kiss to the skin just underneath where it sits when he's done, "Only you."

His heart speeds up when you smile up at him, and he will never get used to you. He doesn't want to, either. He wants to feel this way about you every single day for the rest of his life. Under the sunlight, in the garden of your new home, he's certain he always will.

@pixelcafe-network

#rox writes #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader

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itstheghostofmypast · 2 years ago

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San's Lucky Charm

San x (f)Reader ft. Hongjooong

Summary: The five times Choi San had felt so lucky that the world around him would cease to exist.

Genre: Fluff (a tinge of angst) (simp San- i do not regret this)

Warnings: None

A/N: Choi San's got me whipped, I just can't. Please remember to show some love by 💗 and reblogs

"I'm so lucky." his mumbling caught her ear, heading snapping in his direction as she glared at him from the kitchen island, the contents of his unmade birthday cake spread out in shame. Placing his jacket and phone on the couch, he made his way to the open kitchen, trying not to look at the content displayed on the kitchen island, that would upset her even more, he knew better than to upset his lucky charm. Arms wrapped around her waist, he smiled down at her, crescents adorning his face, the apples of his cheeks radiating a soft blush, on similar to the first time she had made him feel like this. With pouted lips he mimicked whatever cute being he could imagine and mumbled out an "I’m sorry, I wanted to surprise you."

"Yeah, well you ruined my surprise, big boy."

His heart slammed against his rib cage with an intensity that scared him, fearing that she, no, the whole world could hear the way it hammered against his soul, when he laid eyes on her, when her sweet chime would ring in his ears, when he would feel her breath in his soul- it was her, it was the same experience, a form of Deja vu he would go through each time, falling in love with her all over again. It made him feel so lucky, she made him feel so lucky. There were many occasions when she made him feel as such, but there were five moments in particular that made his heart race and cheeks flush every time the memories crossed his mind.

1)The first time she had been ever so graceful to bless him with luck was when he, according to himself, needed it the most. In their pre-debut years, when he was but a country side boy experiencing life in Seoul, the bustling and busy life had begun to take a toll on his health. The late-night practices back at their studio in Gangnam weren't helping him either. He had thought of talking about this to either Hongjoong or Yunho but he knew himself well enough that he'd rather endure the pain than bring any form of discomfort to anyone else.

It was after their third practice session when he had asked to go take a five-minute breather, which, after noticing his flushed features and worn-out eyes, Hongjoong instantly agreed to with a “Take 10 instead”.

After thanking his soon-to-be Captain, he walked out into the corridor, dragging his feet across the tiles to the vending machine at the corner. This very vending machine had become his very best friend in these dire times of the night, where the mint chocolate Oreo packets were waiting for him every night. Not the healthiest snack but it is an enjoyable one nonetheless. Unfortunately, his favourite machine was not cooperating that night, spitting out that note he'd push in, whining in frustration he slammed his hand against the glass, watching everything inside shiver, but nothing else came out.

Taking a deep breath, he tried one more time, flattening the note in his palms and waving it in the air to blow away any bad luck. A pointless feat for as soon as the machine sucked in the note, it spat it back out and in return, he banged his forehead against the glass, repetitively, until he heard someone clear their throat. Twirling around he whined, "Hyuuuug, gimme a note-"

"Not Hongjoong, but you can take mine."

"What- oh" he squeaked, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes to squint at the source, he had seen her before a few times, she was part of the temp staff, odd jobs here and there, but she was mainly here because of Hongjoong. His captain didn't have many friends, not many he trusted, but she had been one of those special few. According to Yeosang, she was as weird as Hongjoong when it came to her work, though he wasn't sure what her real role was.

"Here." moving past him she slipped her note into the machine and punched in the code, watching the biscuit fall into the tray. He was thankful he really was, and would've thanked her verbally too if he wasn't so flustered and tired. As her hand read to grab it from the tray another packet fell onto the tray as well as she chuckled, surprised but amused nonetheless. His eyes widened for a split second but softened at the sound of her little laugh, a smile gracing his lips as he felt a new sense of confidence bloom within his chest, eyes meeting her's when she faced him, holding out two packets, "Here, guess you were lucky today."

"I guess I was." he watched her walk away, somewhat saddened by the conclusion of their short encounter, yet, in his head her words twirled with passion, one that lit his heart on fire- San had always been everything, but lucky. He was smart, hardworking, and dedicated and in return his chest cavity was filled with a pure, glass heart- luck had never been in the picture. Especially not 10 minutes ago, so it was not him whose fate had finally jinxed the machine into giving him what his wee heart desired in the late hours of the night, no, it was her. She was the one who was lucky- an overreach, perhaps, but one his 16-year-old self had begun to take note of, hence, tonight he was lucky to have been graced by her presence.

2) "Need help with tha-at?" grimacing at the way his voice cracked at the end of the question, extremely unappealing, cursing his hormones. The tall, slender boy, cleared his throat, his beanie covering his forehead and eyebrows, his -Yunho's- sweater a bit too large on his frame.

"Hmm? Oh hi, Sannie- no, no I'm good." she peaked from above the two boxes she had been carrying. He was about to pester her even more, but stopped when Wooyoung slipped past him, taking a box off the other one to lighten her burden, earning a small 'Thanks'.

"Wouldn't want our fragile boy to get hurt." He winked at his friend who was now walking next to the two, almost third wheeling - dramatic as it may be, but after the machine encounter, he had come to the realisation that when it came to her, he was no less than a jester in a Shakespearean play for her, not that she had ever claimed so, but he would become one, making a fool out of himself had become his second nature. Wooyoung's statement, it was a simple joke, and an inside joke, it was true though, Yunho had once compared him to a kitten as well, claiming that his head was too big for his fragile body. Wasn't wrong though, San was on the skinnier side, but it's not like he didn't eat, he really did, but perhaps that’s how he was designed to be.

"Careful Wooyoung, he's already outgrown you in height," placing the box on Hongjoong's desk, much to his disapproval, "What are you gonna do if he bulks up too?"

San, who was sulking at the back, perked up at the suggestion, quietly taking a seat next to Seonghwa who slid him a file. Snorting out in response Wooyoung squinted at San then at her, "Nah."

"We'll see." she shrugged and handed a pen and clipboard to Hongjoong, "Sign here please, make sure to tip the delivery person."

"You gotta stop taking these odd jobs." He mumbled signing the papers, "Just ask for an increment here." handing her the papers back he rolled his eyes at the lack of attention from his friend, taking in the way her eyes were stationed upon the boy across him, studying his face as he read his own file.

"What's this?" he whispered to Seonghwa who shrugged, not even bothering to look up for him game, "Gym membership, Yeo and Jongho signed up too. Was Y/N's idea."

His head shot up at a whine, "Hongjoong, what is 0.02% tip?"

"Based on the service provided."

"EXCUSE ME?"

He watched the two argue, wanting to ask her something, but he was never going to in front of everyone, so he waited, patiently as ever, for much like how he was considerate, he was patient as well. "20℅"

"2% and no more, or I swear I'll send an anonymous complaint about you."

"I hope your food delivery gets cancelled." with that she stomped out, earning a roar of laughter from the table of his groupmates and curses from Hongjoong. Quick as a cat he pounced at the door, running behind her into the staircase, "Wait up!" he called out spontaneously, unsure of what was to be said next.

"Hmm?" she turned to him, clipboard in hand, "Yes?"

"I… I um." clearing his throat he looked around, "I- this- I mean hyung gave me this and- What I mean is, do you think I should go for it-"

"You don't have to bulk up for anyone San. Not Wooyoung, not the world", smiling at him she took the pen in his hand and wrote something on her own clipboard, "And not me." looking at him she handed it back, "Just do whatever you want, but because you want to do it."

"O-oh…" his cheeks had begun to match the colour of his red sweater, as he looked at his feet nodding. Just like last time, he watched her walk away, leaving him feeling that same thing once more, feeling lucky to know someone out there was looking out for him without any personal gain just wanting him to be happy.

That day he signed up for the gym, not for anyone but himself. That very day Hongjoong mysteriously ended up paying a 20% tip to the delivery person- "How-I swear I'll kill her."

3) The third time Choi San had been blessed by his lucky charm was his personal favourite. The World album was a success, things were going well, they were planning on a world tour, promotions and sponsorships were, and everything was great but for some reason, Choi San felt a bit out of place. Wasn't sure if it was the fatigue or the lingering thought of how he could've done even better. He had come to this realisation during the celebratory dinner, that everyone around him was having fun, drinking, eating, and letting loose. Seated between Wooyoung and Hongjoong, he had opted to not drink, knowing he was a light drinker, someone had to take care of his brothers, even if they were at the dorm, he had to make sure each one got into bed properly. While there had been no clear topic discussing his lack of effort, the group had started talking about how each member had worked themselves to their limits, Jongho and Wooyoung being the two most affected.

"Sannie held out well though." Hongjoong patted his head, "Strong boy" the drunk leader claimed before going back to talk about Wooyoung who was basking in the unfiltered attention. It wasn't like he didn't have problems as well; he had been spending an unimaginable time at the gym and then at practice, with little time left for sleeping or eating, and even though his body had begun to show signs of fatigue, he refused to take a hint. Whether he’d admit it or not, he had seen how hard everyone was working and he had no intention of burdening them even more, which is why, during their last performance of the season, when he stood there out of breath, almost on the verge of tears, he prayed to God his body wouldn’t give up on him- at least not while they were still on stage. Although berated by Hongjoong later, he was glad during the time he could help the team give a hundred percent, but apparently, for the little voice inside his head, that still wasn’t enough. It would constantly remind him of how each member had somehow outdone him, and improved more than he did, no matter how much time he’d spend at the gym, at practice, and in vocal classes, he still lagged behind.

Upon closing Wooyoung’s bedroom door, after tucking him all good, he sighed, returning to the lounge, thinking of cleaning up so they’d have less to do in the morning. They had moved into a house, which meant they were to clean up after themselves too, but at least everyone had their own rooms now. His thoughts were not going to let him sleep anytime soon, brain on overdrive, irritated by the slightest crunch of the plastic foil, or the way his glasses would slip off the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t until he was done throwing away all the Tupperware that the sound of the doorbell had his entire body jerk, a small squeak escaping his lips, like a scared cat, ears burning out embarrassment he cleared his throat and glanced at the clock. It was already past midnight, only a handful of people had their addresses and the manager had specifically told them to not bother him for the night, which is why he tip-toed to the door, pressing on the intercom and waiting for the other person to respond, since their intercom had no visual option, thanks to Mingi who had claimed that such things record and attract ghosts.

“You gonna let me in or just wait like a creep?”

It was her? The last he had heard from her was from Hongjoong, who had looked particularly annoyed that day, almost two years ago, when San was budding up the courage to confess to her, to woo her, after taking notes from Wooyoung- not a great idea but his man always had his back. So, when he had decided to go to her in her little cubicle, he was shocked to find it empty, He returned to the practice room to find Hongjoong staring at his laptop, unmoving. He had chosen to not ask about her- since his captain looked deep in thought, but his next question had caught the man off guard, “San, what do you think about Y/N?”

A simple question he had no real answer to, no, he did have an answer to it, but he wanted to see how it would play out, did perhaps Hongjoong share similar feelings as him? He had known her longer than San did, they were closer too, perhaps he was only questioning to ensure the younger one didn’t like her back. The thought process took so long that Hongjoong had begun to continue his monologue, rendering San’s response useless and untold, “She’s moving to the States, to study, apparently saved enough to afford the degree she wanted- I mean she could have gotten it here too, but when does she ever listen.” That day he had just nodded along with his sad captain, giving him a sympathetic smile every so often as he narrated about how he had met her back in school and she had told him they’d become rich one day and now he was all alone.

“Hongjoong, I will not be climbing over the gate in a skirt”, eyes widening at the static voice erupting from the intercom he cleared his throat before pressing the button, “It's open.” Was all he said before quickly turning to glance at his reflection in the closest reflective object, then smoothed down his shirt. A white tee over sweatpants was not how he wanted her to see him after two years. Pushing his glasses back up to their original position he opened the door to come face to face with his object of admiration and closeted love. She had grown, matured, and turned into a beauty he would willingly drop to his knees for, just to bask in her glow.

Her fist was about to meet the wood of the door before it opened, a certain someone coming in view, his shy eyes meeting her curious ones, a small smile gracing her lips as she casually let out a, “You’ve grown big, Sannie”, causing him to let out a nervous chuckle.

She watched him pour something in two mugs, admiring the expanse of his back, shoulders as wide as the ocean, the shirt clinging onto him for its dear life every time he’d move, he had grown taller too, and his physical presence was now a sweet contrast with his shy personality, the introverted being that he was. Turning to her with a gentle smile he placed the coffee in front of her, “Sorry about the mess,” sitting in front of her, the marble bar between the two, “Everyone went to sleep a while ago, including Hongjoong.” He claimed carefully, somehow the voice was back, telling him how she was not here for him, but his leader, perhaps wanting to surprise him, and meeting San was nothing more than a coincidence.

Resting her elbow on the counter she hummed, chin in hand, smiling at him, other hand tracing random patterns on the marble, “I had a feeling, but I didn’t come here for him, I came for you.” Her confession had him choking on his coffee, hissing at the burning sensation, as he slammed his mug down, causing her to run around to him, rubbing his back as she took the mug from him.

Clearing his throat to restore whatever shambles of his dignity he had left, he looked at her for an explanation, earning a nervous chuckle, she looked up at him, “You really have grown, I can’t believe I have to look up at you even when I’m standing and you’re sitting.”

"Don't change the subject." he cut her off, if what she had said was a joke, he didn't find it funny at all, "What do you mean by you came here to see me." His eyes bore a kind of sharpness that made her skin tingle, fingertips itching to smoothen the newly formed creases between his brows.

"I can only pin on you for so long, Sannie." a mumble escaped her, and suddenly everything but his face became more interesting.

"I don't…understand."

With a defeated sigh she shook her head, going back to her bar stool, perching herself atop it, radiating her usual bright arua as if nothing had happened. "What I meant was, I came to tell Hongjoong that I've moved back to the company" Pausing to glance up at him, making sure he was processing her words, she noticed the dark circles that had seemed to become one with his face, his tired eyes boring into hers, "I also know you almost blacked out in the last performance…. Was gonna yell at him for not noticing earlier."

Neither of the two when it had happened or when it had begun, but by the time she had finished her statement, the two were merely inches away, bodies separated by the counter but faces so close their breaths were mingling together, basking in each other's warmth. Perhaps it was he who had leaned in closer first, he was taller than her, and her entire weight was on her elbows as she tried to meet him halfway. His sharp eyes scanned her features, wondering why he hadn't mustered up the courage before she had left, the voice in his head yelling at him, warning him that if he made a move, he'd probably ruin their friendship and his dynamic with their leader.

"Why…" he whispered, his insecurities getting the better of him.

"Are you really going to make me say it, big boy?" with one final thought she leaned in closer, lips brushing against his before quickly pulling back and sitting properly.

He sat there, upper body leaning on top of the counter, looking at her with an unreadable expression, crooked glasses framed on his flushed face, staring right at her with eyes as big as a hyperactive cat's.

"Wait. Once more."

His words caught her off guard, a bubby laugh breaking past her lips as she shook her head, "No, you need to go to sleep, you're tired as hell."

Whining he moved around the counter to come to her, as she turned to face him, looking up at him expectantly, "I don't think you understand, you need to nurse me back to health."

"What?" chuckling she shoved him playfully, surprised by how she was unable to move him even an inch, blushing at the thought of what he'd feel like against her.

"You heard me, one more!" gesturing with his finger he leaned in closer only to pause when she cupped his face, squishing his cheeks, "I only kiss boys who are well rested." There it was, after two whole years, the warmth of being loved, the hug of luck, wrapping around him, silencing the tiny voice at the back of his head.

Pecking the tip of his nose, she smiled at the way his nose scrunched up in response. His fingers wrapped around her wrists gently peeling her hands off his face, never breaking eye contact even once, tilting his head he kissed the palm of her hand, before standing tall over her, her hands in his. Finally, he was having his moment, with his lucky charm, anticipating many more to come.

"You're my lucky charm." he beamed, admiring the way her eyes widened for a second before turning into crescents, her smile the biggest he'd ever seen.

"And I'm going to have so much fun with this."

The two froze at the new voice, dreading who it was, so much so that she didn't even dare turn her flushed face to face the third party interrupting their little moment. San on the other hand burst into a smile, turning to face him, still hand in hand with his lucky charm, "You're good at keeping secrets, right hyung?"

Yunho, it was always Yunho who caught them

4) The fourth time a similar feeling of lucky rode up his spine was an unexpected one, one that led him to owe Yunho another favour. Like any other day at work, San was busy going through sheets of music he was given, wondering when to practice with Jongho, considering the two were going to work out together as well. He hadn’t looked up from the sheets until someone came and sat beside him, glancing at the person who chose to sit right next to him in a room filled with empty seats, Yunho. "You talked to Y/N today?" Yunho asked, casually picking up one of the music sheets. Since that fateful night, Yunho had promised to keep their relationship a secret, though he had warned San in private, that although her relationship with Hongjoong was platonic, there was a sense of brotherly protectiveness the captain showed around her. One wrong move could unleash the beast.

"We texted in the morning, why?" placing down his sheet he turned to look at Yunho, something had to be wrong, otherwise, Yunho would never talk about their relationship at work, even at the dorm, it was more of a secret texting thing. Y/N had even made a group chat comprised with the three of them. Though it comprised Yunho and Y/N spamming the chat more than anything, San would just scroll through at night, smiling at the silly memes or banter.

"Did you notice… anything odd?" the older one asks, placing the sheet between them, "I haven't seen her around though, so I thought she didn't come by."

"No" he frowned in confusion, clearly remembering her telling him in the morning that she'd come to work and the two could have lunch, though she later cancelled it and said she had a meeting to go to, "I…is something wrong?"

"San, you gotta pick up on hints bro, or at least think like most people do." Yunho sighed, before balling up a paper and tossing it at him, landing smack on his forehead as he winced, rubbing his palm over his forehead, letting out a confused, "Did I do something?"

"No, I don't think it's you." he hummed thinking to himself, "But if you want to ever get Hongjoong's approval, you should accept the first thing about her, she’d rather keep in all her little secrets than tell anyone she’s hurting, which assume you already know."

That's all it had taken for San to bounce back on his feet and stomp out of the room, he knew, he just knew she had finally snapped, but being herself, she would have never let anyone see her during her moments of vulnerability. Fortunately for her, Choi San had always known where she'd go during those moments, a place he had stumbled upon during his trainee years, the rooftop. He had come up here once, trying to clear his head from all the commotion, when Hongjoong and Wooyoung had disagreed on something turning into a war of insults thrown back and forth, so to avoid the toxicity he had come up here, only to free by the door when he heard a sniffle. He knew he should've left, but he just had to know if he could help the person out, be better, a useful person- he couldn't though, for when he had peaked outside, he froze, eyes casting on a slouched figure sitting on the ground, hugging her knees as she stared ahead- no, that day Choi San had backed out and left her there to cry, too afraid to approach her, but not tonight.

The door slammed open causing her breath to hitch, instantly wiping her tears with the back of her hand, stood up to turn and lock eyes with the person she had been trying to avoid all day.

Within a matter of minutes, she was wrapped in his warmth, face flush against his chest, his scent enveloping her, snug and secure in his loving embrace. He stood there with her in his arms, protecting her from the chilly breeze, one hand placed on her back while the other one loving caressed her head. Placing a chaste kiss to the side of her head he whispered, "I don't know what's got you so upset, but no one gets to hurt my lucky charm."

That night the two stayed up there on the roof with the moon and stars watching over them. He was seated on the ground, with her side pressed into him, nuzzling into his neck ever so often, forcing a contented sigh out of him, arm lazily draped over her form as he began to hum a random tune.

"Won't you ask me…why I'm here?"

If he weren't literally pressed to her, her whisper would've gone deaf to his ears. Fortunately for both of them, their relationship had birthed a newly formed sense of confidence in him, which is why he would always be watching her, observing her, listening to her, from her words to the beating of her heart.

"I won't force you."

It was these words that led him to open the floodgates of her insecurities, wave after wave, poured into him, with full hopes of having the ability to swim through it all. That night she told him about how people would associate her with a gold-digger because she was friends with Hongjoong, how when she had told this to him, he had confronted the people making it worse, no one ever believed they were just best friends. It was after that she decided to move abroad for her degree, to prove everyone wrong and to make sure when she came back, she'd be respected by everyone, including San. That night she had confessed that she had been pinning on him ever since Hongjoong introduced the two, which is why when the rumours got worse, she feared he would believe they were true, resulting in the decision of her degree abroad. Even after coming back, even after finally being able to love him freely, she was labelled as the same, but what was worse was that if their relationship was ever to surface, then she would be accused of using the kind-hearted man, because San was gullible, always had been and according to many she was a witch. No one had ever seen her struggle, or noticed the number of odd jobs she had, yet, here they all stood ready to accuse her, what she feared the most was that one day, if they were able to convince him, he might accuse her of it too.

By the end of her confession, all San remembers is that he had ended up crying, pulling her closer to him, if that were even possible. He shoved her face further into his hoodie, letting her take it all out, strategically keeping his tears hidden from her. It was moments like these that had him battling his intrusive thoughts, the urge to set the cold, dark world on fire to keep his little lucky charm warm and safe. His heart swimming in the mush of feelings that he would melt into, once her words settled in, her concerns about him leaving, making him feel so valued, so important, so lucky.

5) The fifth time San had felt this innate feeling of luck consume him, was a moment he had dreaded for days before mustering up the courage to face it, one that he was so uncertain of, that if it weren't for the way their fingers were locked together and how she would gently squeeze his hand from time to time, he would've done two things; 1) Piss himself and 2) run away with his tale between his legs.

Perhaps because it was so uncalled for, so sudden that he could not prepare. Though he was never fun to be afraid of spontaneous situations unless those situations involved her. Much like any other day, everything went smoothly, everything had gone according to plan, almost everything. He had managed to ensure everyone would leave the dorm, thanks to Yunho's help, it was their 3rd month anniversary and even though she had insisted on not making a big deal out of it, San was hell-bent on making up for lost time, claiming he owed it to her.

Yunho had devised a simple plan, take everyone out for dinner and at that last moment, San could pull back with a fake tummy ache, giving him the privacy, he'd need for his little surprise for her. Simple. And for a while, he did think he would pull this off. He had managed to stay home, set up his room with candles, scattering rose petals across the room and set up the track to set the mood, all tips given by Yunho himself.

Now, he just had to wait, for he had already texted her to hurry to their dorm since he had managed to "hurt" himself. For a while, he waited patiently, until his anxiety started to kick in, especially when he realised, she had left his message on read.

He had been staring at the small coffee table, two plates neatly aligned at either side, but a purple velvet box in one. No, it wasn't anything big, he had just decided to get them something, she had once talked about couple bracelets and how she wondered why people get them. For him though, small gestures like these meant a lot, a true simp at heart. This "little gesture" was more than a mere accessory, it was a statement, of belonging to someone, of sharing a good portion of your heart with someone. To prove this, he had gotten them these, even if he couldn't wear it all the time, he'd keep it close to him, a small token representing his vast love for her.

He had been staring at the box when he heard a faint knock and the click door open. A second of panic flashed before his eyes, quickly bent down to fix the already properly placed items, turned around and rambled, "Y/N, h-hey, sorry for that message, I- I thought you weren't going to come because you're busy and…."

"Well, this seems…romantic."

"Hyung, I can explain."

What felt like an eternity later, the door slammed open and a smaller being stopped inside, the rustling of various paper bags accompanying her every stomp. Cradling the numerous bags in her arms, enough for them to block her line of sight, she reached his bed completely by muscle memory and dropped everything down on the bed, "Okay, next time you send me such a vague message I swear I'll block you" she began to pull out the contents of each bag, "I got medicine, for…everything, muscle, headache, backache, diarrhea and …constipation?" squinting at the small text she tossed the packet back on the bed and turned to see him on the sofa at the opposite end, completely focused on him and anything else in the room as she scurried to him, placing her hand on his sweaty forehead as he stared up at her silent, with eyes as wide as a cat caught at midnight.

"You're burning up- shit." pulling her hand back placed it on his dress shirt, noticing how he was wearing such a formal attire, with an ironed white dress shirt and slacks, "Sannie…do you usually dress like this when you have a fever?" she asked quickly undoing his tie, only for him to grip her wrists in the process, their eyes locked for a moment. She stared at him with confusion, only to finally notice the whirlpool of emotions swimming behind his orbs, an eerie feeling settling in the pit of her stomach, breaking eye contact he glanced sideways as if gesturing for her to look to her side.

If it weren't for how she would be transfixed on him, taking in his every gesture, reading him like her favourite book, morning, noon and night, she would've missed the little quiver of his bottom lip or the way his breathing had turned frantic and uneven. Turning her head to the side her gaze caught the reason of the current position of her boyfriend.

"Hongjoong."

"Y/N."

"How long… have you been…here?"

The man who was sitting cross-legged on the gaming chair shrugged at her before glaring at his bandmate who was now staring at the ground, somewhat afraid to make eye contact with his captain, only for her to step in front of him and block the view.

She stood there in front of him, hand on her hips, "Okay, what do you want?"

"Me?" he pointed at himself before gesturing to their surroundings, "Should I not be asking you the same thing?"

"Hyung it's not her fault- she didn't know- I…this was a surprise." he stood up, standing tall behind her, yet the fear of uncertainty painted all over his face. If Hongjoong wasn't in one of his moods, he would've found the scene to be extremely cute, with a giant man standing behind his best friend like that.

"What's with the table…" finally taking in the room she noticed the petals and the small table with silverware, a plate with a box, "Sannie, did you- wait, I didn't get you anything." she turned around frowning up at him, only for him to gaze down at her, in surprise. This was it, how she'd make it seem like no one else existed in the world but them, even at such a moment, she was more concerned about the lack of gift on her part.

"Excuse Me?! Sannie? " Hongjoong finally broke character, whining as he stood up and pointed at her, "How could you not tell me?!"

Turning her head to glance at him she snorted, "Seems to me you're the bad captain who didn't notice this" gesturing between herself and San, "has been going on for months."

"BAD CAPTAIN?" he yelled, now looking up at San, "You hid this from me too? Why? Do you think I would have disapproved, why would have I disapproved ??"

San nodded in return, not sure if he should confess, not sure if he should read out the list of insecurities and weaknesses that he held within. What if upon hearing the list he'd actually tell them to break it off, or worse, what if she leaves him?

Licking his chapped lips, he slowly nodded at Hongjoong, ready to give his little monologue, but the words caught in his throat when her fingers laced with his, he glanced at her to spot her smiling at him then turning to Hongjoong, "He didn't tell you because I told him not to, because you're a psycho."

"You know what." placing his hands on his hips he frowned at her, "I wouldn't have let my Sannie date you because you're insane!"

"YOU'RE SANNIE?"

"Well." smirking at her he glanced at San who was looking between the two who were arguing, "I did know him before you knew him."

"GET OUT!"

"This is my dorm."

"THIS IS MY BOYFRIEND'S ROOM."

"YOUR BOYFRIEND IS MY CLOSEST FRIEND AND COLLEGUE FIRST."

"I GOT US COUPLE BRACELETS" his interjection brought silence with it before Hongjoong chuckled and shook his head, walking out of the room, not after patting San's arm, leaving the two together.

Hearing the door shut he turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders he smiled down at her, the same smile that would have her heart doing backflips, with his eyes turning into bright crescents and dimples adorning his cheeks, "Guess I can officially call you my lucky charm now, huh?"

"Ew, are you guys gonna do something weird now?"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he let his hands fall off her waist, not before pecking her forehead. Turning to face the intruder with a fake smile, "Hey, hyung, what brings you here?"

"This one." he stated as a matter of fact, placing down a paper bag, "thought of making you a surprise birthday cake but forgot to get flour."

San chuckled, glancing at her who was whining and complaining, "Hongjoong for once can you not be yourself?"

"You mean be perfect?"

"Will you be staying for dinner hyung?" he stopped the two before they could begin arguing.

"I'd rather not, she'd poison my food." he snorted earning a very loud "I would have." from her, as he waved at them, making sure to lock the main door behind him, shoving the spare key back because pocket.

Alone once again, he smirked down at her, wrapping his arms around her waist, a hand grabbing a handful of her butt, squeezing it, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

In return, however, he received a kick on his shin causing him to bounce back, leaning down to rub the sore spot, "What was that for!?"

"For coming home early and giving that idiot the spare key to our apartment." she huffed walking past him and grabbing the flour, "Now go sit there like a good boy and let me bake for you."

Snorting he stood up straight, stretching his arms over his head to make him look even bigger, "My birthday was in July, you are aware of that right?"

"I know." sighing she cracked an egg, "But you were on tour and… I couldn't be with you, so I thought heck, why not just surprise you now…." grabbing another egg she stared at it, mumbling to herself as she pouted, "Guess I messed it up though…should've gotten everything earlier."

Her little sulk session was interrupted when he gently gripped her chin, turning her head to face him, tilting it up as he smiled down at her. If it weren't for his manly pride, the need of wanting to be tough and strong for her, he would've sobbed in pure joy. Little things like these, these gestures and ideas of hers always made his heart flutter, ever so caring for him, ever so present. He was glad she couldn't see through him, otherwise, she'd see how his heart had melted into a puddle of very gooey feelings, feelings for her.

"You never mess up, love" Leaning closer he brushed his lips over hers, his other hand reaching to grab hers, thumb brushing against the cool metallic bracelet she wore with pride, just like the one he'd wear when he'd feel it was safe enough to pass off as anything hut suspicious- though it never bothered her for she had told him how the thought of knowing both have one is enough for her.

"You're my lucky charm, remember?”

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