#wandering about in his fucking ballet pumps

[colinrobinsonscardigan]

I do broadly love the LOTR films, but I do wish they used Gimli less for comic relief. They should have use Legolas.

[stuff-i-found-while-crying]

A Stage of Fire and Dreams (6)

inspired by @gwandas and they post: modern Neris AU where Eris is a trust fund asshole at Harvard Law, Nesta is a professional ballerina with the Boston Ballet (although I am straying away from the concept... is that bad)

NEW CHAPTER and finally back in Eris POV 🧡

Eris gets a phone call from Cyrus. A phone call that makes him leave Nesta alone at dinner and run to safe his broken family.

Main pairing: Eris x Nesta

TRIGGER WARNING: Panic attack I physical abuse I blood

@erisweekofficial does this count for the prompt today? it is AU... anyway. Check out Eris Week. I have been so in love with the Art that was posted all week!

first part - Giselle I second part - red shoes I part three - Cinderella I part four - dinner for two I part five - Interlude

Face of my brother

Eris knew something bad had happened.

Cyrus never called him. Unless it was about their mother.

"What happened?"

"He is loosing it", Cyrus said. His voice was shaking. Eris could hear something break in the background. "I don't know how to calm him down."

"Where is she?"

"Gabriel took her to the galleries."

Eris closed his eyes. His mother was save. At least one of his younger brothers was with her. Althought he would not put his faith in Gabriel.

"Are you alone?"

"Eris", Cyrus whispered. "You have to come home. Mom was calling Lucien and he found out."

This was bad.

This might be the end.

Eris felt the world tild on it's axes and then spin in double speed. His stomach knotted together. No air was getting into his lounges.

"Do you hear me? Hector is in a business meeting and I don't know what to do."

His younger brother was pleading with him. He needed to focus.

"I am on my way. Send the staff home. And check their phones before they leave. I do not want any press knowing about this."

As he hung up, he felt the panic rush his brain.

No air.

No safety.

No future.

Someone was touching his shoulder. Eris spun around, ready to fight.

But it was only the waiter, paitently assesing him.

"Would you like the pasta to go?"

Eris needed to focus. He was here on a date.

Nesta Archeron was sitting on a table and waiting for him to return.

His heart hurt. It broke. It blead. It pumped to much panic into his thoughts.

She could not see him like this.

Just the thought of her piercing grey eyes brought him to his knees.

He leaned against the wall next to him.

She would know.

"Mr. Vanserra?" The waiter was still waiting. Polite concerntniss on his face.

"Send the bill to my office", he whispered. "Give her everything she wants. And call her a taxi."

"As you wish."

And then he was alone.

Eris wanted to cry. He craved tears that would run down his face and drowned him. His chest should break open, letting the world see his bleeding heart.

Then he thought of Cyrus.

He could not loose another brother.

Beron Vanserra held a bottle of whiskey in his hand. No glass to drink from remaind. The pieces of crystal around the room a metaphor for their family. Eris did not know how to piece them back together.

"You are late", his father greeted him softly.

"I was out."

"Business or pleasure?"

A cold shiver went down his spine. "What happened here?"

His father turned to him. Eyes wandering around the room, realising the damage he caust.

"Your mother betrayed me." The words left him like a caress upon a lover.

Eris could feel Cyrus wimper behind him. But he could do nothing against Berons burning gaze.

"Do you want to say something, Cyrus?"

Years of experience had taught Eris to keep his mouth shut. As the oldest he had always been in close proximity of their father.

But Cyrus had never learned that lesson. "It was just a phone call."

The bottle flew towards him. Eris reacted on instinct and took a step in front of his brother.

Made out of harder material then the glasses on the floor, the bottle did not break.

Eris face was not as lucky.

"Fuck!" was all he could shout.

His father just looked at him. Then he turned back to the window.

"Pathetic. Send Hector to me. He seems to be the only one in this family that actually does what I want."

Eris entire face hurt. Tears clouded his vision. A hand was gripping his arm and Cyrus was pulling him out of the room.

"What the hell", his brother whispered. "Why did you do that."

"Because I am an idiot?"

"I call a doctor."

"No!" Eris winced. Blood was in his mouth. "I just need to cool it. It will heal in a couple of days."

"I don't know. It is a lot of blood."

Eris rolled his eyes. What Cyrus could not see because by now his entire face was swollen.

His brother guided him to the kitchen and gave him an ice pack. Immediatly Eris put it over his entire face, sighting with relieve.

He could hear his brother fussing around him.

"Calm down", he said.

"Calm down? Calm down?!" Cyrus was shouting now. "How can you be calm? Everyone will see your face and know what happened. And mom will cry again. You promised she would stop crying! You promised me."

There were tears in his voice. Eris lowered the ice pack and tried to look at Cyrus.

"Your nose is fine", his brother said. "It hit you under the eye."

"Thanks, Doc."

Cyrus threw a tissue box at him. "Clean yourself then, asshole."

For a moment the two brothers looked at each other.

"Sorry", Cyrus whispered and picked the box back up.

"It's alright. Not the worst thing that got thrown at me today."

Another moment of silence. Then the brothers burst out laughing.

"Oh God", Cyrus leaned against the kitchen counter. "Are we going mad?"

Eris, still laughing, took out his phone and turned on the camera to check his face.

The giant black bruise on his right cheek sobered him up. He could not go out like this in public.

"Well, maybe you can find a pretty nurse to take care of you." Cyrus grinned at him. "Unless you have a girlfriend hidden somewhere. Not that I would blame you. Who would want to be part of this Shit show?"

Who indeed? 

His thoughts wondered to Nesta Archeron. Would she nurse him, if he showed up with a bruised face? Or would she laugh at him?

Maybe she would finally let her walls down.

Maybe he would hate her for pitying him.

Eris carefully brushed his fingers over his cheek.

His body was starting to relax and the adrenaline left his system. He hated this feelling. Like clouds filling his brain and making him softer.

"I had a date tonight", he confessed.

Cyrus looked at him as if he had grown a third head. "You?"

"She was wonderful. Breathtaking. And I lost my chance."

"Because I called you", Cyrus said. "Shit, Eris, I am sorry. Had I known…"

Both brothers knew that it would not have changed a thing. This was their life. And at least they still had it.

"We should call Gabriel and mom", Eris said. "She has some explaining to do."

"I do that", his brother was eager to help. Like the lost puppy he had always been. "You should call your date. I am sure she will forgive you."

"I left her", Eris said softly.

"Okay?"

"Without explaination. I left her alone at a restaurant without explaining myself."

Cyrus was not a sensitive guy. But even he whinced at that. "Send her a pic of your face. That will win her back."

Eris was sure, that it would not. He took the ice pack and left the kitchen. Fresh air was what he needed.

As he stood outside in the garden, his mother had so carefully designed, he finally felt the last bit of anxiety leave his system.

Tiredness came like a soft blanket and wrapped up all his thoughts.

He dialed Nestas number.

She did not pick up.

He took a picture of his face.

___

This story is also on AO3.

I might switch to only posting there... What do you guys think?

[tuffduff]

But...I Like You (Dave Mustaine x Reader)

Pairing: fluff Dave Mustaine x female reader

Words: 2,384

Summary: Dave’s never been one for the holidays or romance, not until one fateful day at the laundromat changes everything. Suddenly, he finds himself seeing The Nutcracker and wonders just what lengths he’d go for this girl.

Taglist: @ubernoxa @the--blackdahlia @reigns420 @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @rumoured-whispers

Dave couldn’t recognize himself in the mirror. His frame was wrapped in a new and unusually lavish coat, the first coat he owned that actually fit him—hell, the first coat he had bought ever. There was a scarf around his neck made of something called cashmere, something he never thought he would have adorning his body. Most notable, however, was the look of glassy fear in his eyes.

He had let go of general fear a long time ago. Fear held him back, and he wasn’t about to let anything hold him back. And who the fuck cares, really? But there it was again, that little uncertain glimmer making his eyes frown. He couldn’t decide what he didn’t like more—his outfit or the look on his face.

When he walked out to the living room of his apartment, he nearly tried to sneak back into his room, but Junior and Jeff had already caught sight of him.

“Woah there, is that you, Dave? Are you under there?” Jeff teased and Dave was already glaring.

“Man, where are you going, huh? I didn’t realize you even owned this outfit.” Junior added, to which Dave felt less anger, so he focused on him, rather than Jeff—who he still wanted to punch.

“To see a show.” He said curtly, trying to close the conversation forcefully, of course, to no avail.

“You’re not going to the movies dressed like that. Where are you actually going?” Jeff joked, glancing at Junior to be backed up.

“I never said movie.” Dave retorted, glaring at the guitarist before he gathered his wallet and looked for his keys.

“So, where are you really going?”

“I’m going to see a production, it’s at the Opera House, it’s a little more upscale—”

“Opera House? You’re going to see an opera?” Jeff exploded

“No.” Dave snapped, growing more annoyed.

“What does this mean for Megadeth?” Jeff just kept pestering until Dave finally yelled.

“It’s the fucking Nutcracker!” Jeff and Junior were silent before they began to laugh. “Look, it wasn’t my idea—clearly. The San Francisco Ballet Company is doing their annual show, apparently they were the first in the US to produce a full-length production, and Y/N really wanted to go…”

“Oh,” Junior realized, leaning his head back with a knowing look on his face that made Dave glare again. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, shut up about it.” Dave snapped. Jeff looked between them.

“Y/N? Who’s Y/N?”

“This girl Dave met a while back at the laundromat.” Jeff raised an eyebrow.

“Think you met ‘the one’ at the laundromat, huh?” Jeff said incredulously. Dave sent another glare at Junior before he finally saw his keys laying on the kitchen counter and snatched them up.

“You’ll never be capable of knowing what I think, Jeff. You lack the brain cells.” He snapped, leaving the apartment. Outside, he let out a breath that he could see in the air.

Was he being too harsh on his band mates? No, never that. Was he being defensive? Maybe. Was he being stupid? Yes.

Stupid for letting you actually make him have these little daydreams littering his head for the past few weeks.

It started at the laundromat, yes, but Dave wasn’t the type of man that idealized romantic prospects. The light didn’t hit you in a certain way and the angels didn’t sing like the way it always did in those cliche romance movies. Rather, you dropped your entire load of laundry on the floor in front of him.

“Shoot,” you had sighed, merely looking at the garments of clothing with disdained tiredness. As he watched it all unfold, he had imagined what he would do in that moment—probably react in some type of anger—and watched as a smile came across your face before you looked directly at him. It was just a brief moment, but Dave felt like he was confined to that chair for an hour. Like he’d never been seen before in his life until that moment, in the dimly lit dingy laundromat.

“It must be Monday.” You said, before calmly getting on your knees and beginning to put the clothes back in the basket. For some reason, he found himself next to you.

“It’s Sunday.” He corrected you, to which you laughed.

“Even worse.”

His hand landed on a Led Zeppelin shirt to which he glanced over at you. “You a fan?”

“Yeah! Love them. How can you go wrong with them?” You eyed him again longer than he expected and he nearly winced when you narrowed them speculatively. “You look familiar.”

“I’m in a band.” He admitted, before too quickly adding, “Megadeth.” He hoped to see realization light your eyes, but you shook your head.

“No. Maybe I’ve seen your face on MTV?”

“There’s a chance.”

“I was joking.” You laughed. “But clearly, you’re not, huh. You know, there’s a record store across the street. Prove it.” You smiled at him.

The both of you left your laundry to be washed and headed over to the local record shop decorated with string Christmas lights on the roof and frosted windows. He bought their latest for you So Far, So Good…So What? and briefly gave you quick insight about where he got the name of the band from, song titles, why he enjoyed music...

Okay, he spilled his guts. He couldn’t stop talking. But that wasn’t his fault—you were hanging onto his every word. You listened, really listened; you seemed to listen more than anyone he had ever spoken to. More than that, you seemed to understand. And so, he went back to the laundromat next week at the same exact time, walking as quick as he could and hating that fact that he was doing so, until he felt relief when he saw you inside again.

You remembered him too—you smiled when you saw him. “It must be Sunday, huh?”

“Got it right this time.” He replied with a smirk.

Dave was aware he could talk someone’s ear off. He had a lot to say about the world and its affairs and usually didn’t care a whole lot about other people’s thoughts—they were usually stupid. But you, he made an active attempt to listen to. He listened rather than spoke, and when he did speak, he would ask questions, trying to get to know you on an even deeper level. And just as he assumed, you kept his attention better than anyone else.

You had a way of looking at the world from a completely different perspective than him. Like it was something to be solved. Like a bad thing didn’t mean it was the end of the road. That nothing really stays dead, that every little thing has a purpose, a meaning.

“Surely that’s not true.” Dave finally said. “Not every single thing has a meaning. Some things are just the way they are and that’s the way it is.” You just smiled at him.

“If it weren’t for the fact that my washer broke, I wouldn’t have come here. And if it weren’t for the fact that I thought it was Monday—my usual laundry day—instead of Sunday, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Dave didn’t understand the way his heart pounded a little harder. He wondered if he imagined the way your eyes stared a little too long at his and felt absolutely stupid for even having such a thought. And yet, he couldn’t stop staring. He couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering down your body. He couldn’t stop himself from telling David about you.

Oh, he knew exactly what was happening. He was strapped in on a rollercoaster ride and he was nearing the drop, unable to do nothing but watch as he felt things he’d never felt before. The whole reason he pursued guitar playing was to pick up girls; he had had lots of girls. And you, you weren’t like them. You seemed to admire him for being in a band, but you were more interested in why he hated breakfast and never ate it. Or why he didn’t like Christmas.

“This doesn’t just make you automatically happy?” You questioned him, gesturing to the atmosphere that surrounded the two of you. Your meetings had upgraded to a coffee shop. Dave didn’t drink coffee, but he watched you order a hot chocolate and realized maybe that was okay and ordered the same.

“What? The crowds, the god-awful music, the annoying lights everywhere, everyone’s ugly sweaters?” You grinned and laughed, and he wished the sound could be pumped out of the shop’s speakers rather than “Jingle Bells.”

“It’s just the time of year when everything is supposed to go right.” You ignored him, smiling a little. “When I was a kid, I used to go and see The Nutcracker with my family every year. The San Francisco Ballet Company started it—they had the first full length production back in 1944. Or at least, that’s what my mom said.”

“I’m guessing they’ve got shows going on with it being so close to Christmas.” Dave wasn’t sure why he was saying that. You nodded.

“Yeah, their last show is Sunday.”

“Why don’t we go?” You were just as surprised as he was.

“What? You’re kidding. A ballet doesn’t seem very up your alley, Mr. Megadeth.”

“Try me, think I’m just some metal knucklehead that couldn’t appreciate it?”

“I don’t think you would like it.”

“Maybe I will, you don’t know me.” You chuckled, but still appeared unsure, which only made him more determined. “Look, you said you haven’t been in forever. I’m in a good place this year after the album, those tickets will be nothing. It’s on me. So, if I were you, I would just agree before I change my mind.”

“Well...alright.”

And here he was outside this damn theater, pulling on his coat, knowing his hair was out of place despite that fact that he had tied it back. He was still getting strange looks by the crowd of couples walking arm in arm into the theater, telling him without words that he didn’t belong.

“Dave?” He heard from behind him and turned. He was already thinking of some kind of dry teasing reply, but all words left his head at the sight of you, dressed nicer than he’d seen you yet, every hair in place. “Look at you! You own a scarf?” He scoffed, feeling a smirk grow on his face.

“Stole it from a guy on my way here.” He joked to make you laugh. To his surprise, you also leaned in and kissed his cheek. As if that’s just what you did. All of it was so foreign; you, this theater, this ballet show. And he was a puzzle piece that shouldn’t fit.

“Shall we?” You asked. He was still trying to find the words to compliment you, but instead, he nodded.

In your seats with the lights down, Dave alternated his time from watching the stage and the dancers to the other audience members, young and old alike. All of them seemed to fit each other’s company, each other’s social circle; he was the anomaly.

And then there was you, which he elected to watch for the rest of his time. The way your eyes quickly flitted back and forth as you took in the sight, your eyebrows raising, how you’d hold your breath for a second at the really dramatic parts.

All of a sudden, there was you, sweeter than a sugar plum, somehow embodying all the niceness everyone said Christmas was supposed to be about. Thanks to you, he was out of his element, and he felt like he was meant to be there. After all, where did he really belong anyway?

Did it matter if he could be anywhere with you?

“So?” You asked him eagerly after the show when the lights came back on. The two of you sat in your seats as everyone around you stood, in no hurry.

“You’re going to be surprised to hear this, but there are a lot of similarities between classical music and metal. Really, Tchaikovsky’s stuff isn’t so different than—”

“I meant the show! The story! Oh, did you see the costumes?” You laughed, and he smiled, shaking his head at you.

“To be honest, I was watching you most of the time.” You seemed startled by his words, and he took your speechlessness as the chance to keep going. “I couldn’t find the words to tell you earlier how beautiful you look. Really, this whole night I just kept thinking that maybe it was a mistake. That I’m not the type of guy that comes here, I’m the guy playing in the sleazy, dark club on the bad side of town. But I was wrong. And I’m glad I came; I should have done it right though. I should’ve brought you flowers, picked you up, I should’ve complimented you as soon as I saw you, I should have kissed you when you kissed my cheek—”

“Dave.” You interrupted him calmly, taking his hand in yours and giving him an ever-growing smile. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Christmas is my favorite time of the year, but this year it’s been so hectic, and I haven’t been able to really enjoy it...until now. That was all I actually wanted. I don’t care about the flowers.” He stared at you for a second before he smiled.

“That’s all?” He asked before he leaned in closer, grazing the side of your cheek with his lips as he whispered. “You don’t want one more thing?” He felt your hand rest on his cheek and turned his head to press his lips to yours, savoring the moment and realizing he had never really been kissed before, not like this.

“Well, I guess that too.” You mumbled with that sweet smile on your face before you looked up at him with big eyes. “Okay but really, was it up to your standards, or was I right all along?”

“I hate Christmas. And I don’t really enjoy the things that come with it.” He admitted with a keen smirk as he pulled back, and you giggled. He let himself enjoy the feeling of your face cradled between his hands, so used to always cradling a guitar, this new sensation—skin-on-skin—was intoxicating. As were your lips, that he leaned in again to steal another kiss from. “But...I like you.”

[dabis-devil]

Could you pretty please do Shinso, Dabi, Overhaul, Kirishima, Shiggy, Bakugo and Tamaki with an S/O with is a ballet dancer and looks fragile but can actually kick ass? Sorry for the long ask but I just really adore you’re stuff!!!!!

Pretty Poison

Aw, thank you anon! Okay, I'd just like to apologize for holding off on my asks. I've seen busy and not feeling well lately, but I'm getting to my requests now! Love you all 🖤

Shinsou Hitoshi

Shinsou is an observational guy

He figured you weren't as innocent as you looked before you proved him right

All of which he figured out with distance.

When set to spar together, he was avoiding all of your agile moves, each one of your attacks

You were pressed to do give it your 100%

With a swing, you attempted to go for his neck with your fist, the purple haired man catching your fist.

He tried to get a blow at your torso, you swatted his fist.

when you tried a strike with the other, he caught that one too.

His leg scooped in the back of your knees, the two of you toppling to the ground.

Toshi is a good boi, he made sure you wouldn't get hurt before he went through with such a calculated move

“ oh kitten- ” he chuckled, tired eyes lock in onto your own. “ nobody expects this of you. . Only fools will underestimate you. ” his tone was eerie

You used your propped up knee to push yourself over. Turning the tables, Toshi on bottom now. “ nice to know. ” you mumbled with a savage smile.

Next thing you know you were helping each other up and leaving the training grounds.

Its when you and Shinsou went on your first date that he learned you were a dancer.

He didn't seem too phased honestly, but he thought it was cool!

“ Can I go to your next recital? ” he asked, thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

You said yes

Before the start of the recital, your eyes wandered endlessly around the stadium.

' where is he? ' your lips curling into a frown.

Maybe he decided he didn't care?

Little did you know, he was in the front row. Just dressed in a suit. . Classy Shinsou is rare

When you leaped across the stage, his large purple orbs followed your angelic form like a puppy eyeing a treat.

He isn't one to pump you up with compliments, but when you finally realized he was staring with a strong force of admiration, that said all.

He would stand and applaud afterward, meeting you in the back room for a bland congratulations and soft hug.

He'll be at every single recital

Every. One.

Dabi

Your innocence was cute, don't get him wrong

But his goal was to corrupt you.

He would place wondering hands on your body, expecting you to become a shell of a human and color to drain from your face

Instead your expression turned playful as you prompted him

Sinful things probably followed

And that's how he learned you werent fragile

With that in mind, this man had nO control

You already know a relationship with him entails dirtiness to keep it sPiCy

And I kid you not, your gracefulness drives him over the edge

Your movement was so controlled it's just- *chefs kiss*

The part of the town the compound was in definitely wasn't a good part of town

So you got harrased :((

“ hey pretty lady, ” a drunk man cooed, his large and sweaty hands running down your arm. “ come with me to the back. . ” he smiled and roughly tugged at your arm.

You could have easily shown this man a piece of your mind. The ghastly shrieks that filled the air stopped you though.

Dabi melted his face off, then left with you like nothing happened.

This why people don't mess with you anymore

Again, this is what makes the two of you a good team. He has your back, you have his, but you can both take care of yourselves.

He didn't really care to know you danced

It's just a hobby, when should he care? Do what you want.

If you dragged him off to recitals or anything don't be surprised if you see him playing on his phone or otherwise not paying attention.

Gives 0 fucks.

If for any reason he is watching

Probably because he think you look sexy.

Maybe it's the outfit, maybe it the way your body flows, who knows?

If you come to him bothered that he doesn't like your dancing, he will either

reassure you that he thinks you look incredibly sexy when you dance, and try to pay a little more attention to your routines

No promises^

Or

Brush off your feelings and move on

Really isn't his cup of tea but A for effort

Bonus: he's asked you to dance on/for him

You're a dancer, of course you know how to lap dance. Of CoUrSe.

Idiot

“ doll, why don't you come show me some of those moves? ” he asks cheekily, already leading you back to the bedroom.

You still did. And you did well. So that's a win on his part-

Overhaul

Kai could appreciate your dancing, there was some sort of elegance in it.

The way your body moved from one figure to another just had his eyes drawn to you like magnets.

The fact that he kidnapped you for entertainment was besides the point

Well initially

You were given the option to leave, but you didn't.

Same offer does NOT apply now that you made your choice

The reason you were taken is for your doe eyes and soulful smile

You put up a damn good fight

But in the end you were being jumped by a few gang members.

Not to mention your escape attempts?

So thought out, and you came this close to busting out of the secret door each time.

Kai’s eyes burned holes hrough your skull when you were restrained to your bed.

“ love, why would you try to leave me? You know bad things could happen. . ” his tone sent goosebumps down your back

He's just possessive

Other than that, you can pretty much do what you want

So long as you stay in base

He turned a room into a dance studio for you

That's just how he shows affection.

he wants to sit and watch you dance until your knees buckle.

You bet your ass he will too.

“ where are you going? ” his eye brows knitted. “ I'm not done watching. ” he growled lowly, as you returned to your craft with a pout.

But that's fine,,,,

Even though he's not a huge fan of touching you

He gives the best massages.

(I'm actually so so sorry for this one, I haven't written Kai and oh my gOd I need to fix this characterization)

Eijiro Kirishima

This beautiful rock man

He thinks you are so adorable.

Literally precious okay, even before romantic ties developed

But when you become a badass out of nowhere, he's kinda stunned

You turned to Mineta and told him off for objectifying you, finishing that confrontation with a kick right to his crotch.

The grape boy wheezed and began to cry, but you walked off unbothered.

Of course Kiri, who had been on his way to save you from his perverted classmate, was like- “ huh?? ”

You being anything but reserved was a new emotion.

He didn't mind of course, he was excited to learn more about you.

And when he learns you're a dancer?

Oh boy.

Eiji supports you. Without a question!

And that's on being manly.

He shows up with roses to every single recital you have, dressed in fine attire, and will be the loudest person in the crowd.

“ WOoOOo!! YOU DID AMAZING Y/N! I LOVE YOUU!! ” He shouted from the top of his lungs.

Actually the first time he said I love you

Lowkey has good moves himself

You'll see that when he's dancing around the dorms to some cheesy music denki or Mina played

If you need help with a move he will put sweat, blood, and tears into perfecting it with you.

He literally won't shut up about you

When he's with his friends?

“ she's so beautiful! You should see her dance too! ” he gushed

Family?

“ y/n is so amazing. . (More babbles about you) ”

A wall?

“ I love y/n so much- ”

Just love him back okay

Tomura Shigaraki

This crusty man has his head in the game and all, but he totally swept you to the side.

He wants things to be blunt and direct

So when you were over there looking like a pure angel he just thought you were

As apart of the liberation front, he expected you to be there for covert missions, and not throw yourself into battle

But when you were over here taking out three heroes simultaneously??

It dawned on him that you were so much more useful.

It had been a late night and Shigs couldn't sleep, so he planned to hang out with you.

Your light shone under the crack of your door, prompting him to ask for your company

He placed a soft knock on your door to which there was no reply.

Instead, the melody of soft classical tunes drifted to his ears. The door creaked open, allowing the blue haired man a peak of insight as to what you were doing.

He saw your figure parading around the room in small leaps, harmonious twirls, and gentle hand movements.

His crimson eyes widened at what he saw. Not only did he realize how beautiful you are, but you were so soothing to watch?

For a little while he will beat around the bush

“ y/n, what were you up to last night? ” he asked, sounding as innocent as a mere child. “ hmm? ” his hands weaved together under his chin, leg swing in under his barstool.

Like when you already know something but you ask somebody anyways just to see what they would say yknow

He would make this one of his favorite things to do, watch you dance.

Over time you caught him staring through your door, and you weren't exactly happy about it

“ tomura! ” you squeaked, catching a glimpse of his florescent red orbs.

You raced over to the door, pausing your music with a fast tap to the pad of your phone.

“ why were you watching me? ” you frowned at your boyfriend, your shoulders building tense.

“ y/n. . ” he mumbled, hand searching for his agitated neck. “ I just couldn't look away. ”

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo did not underestimate your abilities. Ever.

From his experiences, he knows not to judge a person's abilities until you get a taste of what they can do.

He tried so hard to manipulate you into using your quirk, or just not being the peaceful person you came off as.

He faaaaailed

When you got to knew him better, you didn't hesitate to mop the floor with him.

He's impressed by your effort, so points there

He definitely liked your soft persona, on the contrary to his.

He won't tell you that though.

The closer you two got, the more he would step in to defend you and stick by your side.

The one time you snapped on somebody, he was left shaking in his boots.

He hasn't seen you behave like that. . He liked it 😏

Now don't get me wrong-

Baku didn't care for your dancing.

He didn't give a single fuck, okay

But whenever he actually saw your graceful dances on stage???

Consider him your biggest fan

But you wouldn't ever find that out. At least he thoughts so.

“ I have another recital tonig- ” you were cut off by an irritated Baku.

“ if you want me to go, just ask, dumbass! Stop whining. ” he snapped, leaving you blinking and dumbstruck

go off lord explosion murder-

He's in the front row just sitting there like

W O W

You already know he'll praise you for your preformance, whether those compliment were backhanded or of pure intent.

And if anybody dare thinks about down talking your dancing? They will be ripped. ..He would tear them apart with him bare hands. no cap.

If you absolutely amaze him, you will get the one in a lifetime chance to watch him stand up and scream your name with a proud grin, something along the lines of-

“ LOOK AT Y/N! (pronoun)'S DOING FUCKING AMAZING, JUST FUCKING LOOK AT MY BABY- ” his hand directed towards you, and you couldn't help but burn a shade of deep rose.

Tamaki Amajiki

Before you two were in a relationship, you had him fooled.

Like Tamaki, you look like a cinnamon roll, but can murder somebody.

You are commonly underestimated, which gives you the upper hand. A lot.

Tamaki taught you how to use that

Training with him was just so sweet.

He'd be scared to hurt you though

Let's add to the fact that since you like like an easy target, you would probably get messed with.

He would be the first to step in and protect you

Despite the fact his hands are shaking, and he stutters a mess.

“ my suneater. . My hero. ” you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

Here lies Tamaki Amajiki, Rest In Peace

Don't even get me started on your dancing.

He loves it! Absolutely melts his heart.

When he watches you at recitals, rehearsals, maybe even in the dorms, he feels the depth of your movement.

He becomes a flustered mess in the distance,,,,

“ I can't believe thats my bunny, she's doing so well! ” he quietly cooed from the audience.

He will not miss any of your recitals. Unless it's an emergency.

Even then, get prepared for massive cuddles when he gets back.

He'll feel guilty about not being there, he's more upset than you are.

“ Tama it's fine- ” you chuckled softly, cradling your boyfriend in a hug.

“ are you sure bunny? I'm sure you did amazing, and I missed it! ” he whined, fighting the urge to plant his face onto a wall and never look back.

Other than tons of extra love after a missed performance, he will without a doubt dress fancy and bring you a bouquet and some little gifts.

100/10 will pepper you with compliments

Honestly he's an angel

[let-it-raines]

Ok you probably saw this coming but now I need to see Emma and Killian working together - how it works, what they do, people’s reactions, everything pretty please!? 😊 (Assuming that is what you were alluding to? 😉)

I am...behind in Catch Me If You Can extras. I had about a million and two in my head since I love this universe most of all, and then life happened and I took some time off from writing. But nevertheless, here I am with a short little extra of the two of them being commentators together! I think they’ll probably have some pretty good on-camera chemistry, don’t you? 

ao3 | here |

-/-

March 2026

“Do you think I should wear my uniform?”

“What?” Emma yells.

“Do you think I should wear my uniform?” Killian repeats, trying his hardest not to yell since Emma is one room over.

He hears Emma before he sees her, and she pops her head into the closet with her brows furrowed together and her head cocked to the side. She’s got her hair in curlers, only one eye has mascara, and her portable breast pump is attached to her. She’s a sight for sore eyes, and he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful woman if he tried.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asks, and she obviously did not find his joke funny.

Killian shrugs. “Why would I be kidding? Look at this section of the closet. It’s all my uniforms and t-shirts and joggers. I have more Yankees-branded clothes than regular clothes, and I feel like it would be fitting to wear something that paid homage to my time as a player.”

Emma’s head recoils and she shakes her head, little lines popping up on her forehead. “You’re wearing the fitted navy suit, white shirt, matching navy tie, and you have a Yankees pin to put on your lapel. Didn’t the network go over this with you?”

“No, not at all.”

Her eyes narrow, like little slits of impending death, and if she could cross her arms over her chest, she would. He knows it. “You’re fucking with me, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Come on. I know you do, love.”

“I don’t.”

Killian sighs and walks over to her, tilting his head and curling the corners of his lips. He blinks, slowly, and stares at Emma as he waits for her to smile. When she doesn’t, he places his hands on her hips and traces his lips across her neck, gently enough to not leave a mark or any trace of his stubble. If he messes up her makeup, she likely will murder him and get away with it. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Emma.”

“Killian.”

He presses a long kiss against the lobe of her ear and runs his hand down her back. “If you don’t want to have this argument on television, I feel like now might be the time we need to have it.”

“That seems like, ah – emotional blackmail.”

Killian nips down at her ear before pulling back, dipping his head so they’re eye level as he tucks a loose strand behind her ear. “You okay?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I’m a little worried that my boobs are going to start leaking on TV and that we’re going to have no chemistry together and also that we’re going to have to stop the broadcast because MJ is having a meltdown and Jace is having a meltdown because his sister is having a meltdown. And honestly, I feel like life was a lot simpler when you were lying to me about having a shoulder injury and my ex-boyfriend and your father were creating a smear campaign against us that made national headlines and nearly ruined our lives.”

Killian chuckles. He can’t help it, and he knows his wife wants to knee him in the balls for it, but he really cannot help himself. She’s stressed, and she shouldn’t be. If anything, he should be the one shitting himself because he’s the one doing something new today. But he knows better than to say that when he’s not the one who feels like he has to balance ten different jobs at once.

Emma keeps putting everything on her shoulders, like she’s the only one who can carry the stress, but he wants to carry the burdens as well. That is how their marriage works.

“You know, when you put it like that, it makes me realize our lives have never been boring. And life was probably simpler then, but none of what you’re fearing now is going to happen.”

“Really? You can guarantee that my boobs aren’t going to leak and that our children aren’t going to have meltdowns? Margot is three months old. All she does is have meltdowns and all my boobs do is leak when I get off this stupid feeding schedule because my body is only a feeding machine right now.”

Killian tilts his head and smiles. “I can guarantee we’re going to have chemistry working together.”

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re happy to have a job again.”

Killian shrugs and kisses Emma’s cheek. “Well, I need something to do until Jace and MJ are old enough for me to coach all of their teams.”

“Killian Jones, former three-time World Series Champion, spends his days getting yelled at by overinvolved parents of seven-year-olds at baseball and ballet and fly fishing.”

“Doesn’t sound too different from my playing days. Also, fly fishing?”

“I didn’t want to limit them. We don’t know what their hobbies are going to be.”

“Too true, love. I have a feeling they’ll be trying everything they can get their hands on.”

Emma huffs and taps her knuckles over Killian’s chest. The smile she’s been hiding starts poking out. “Tonight, do you think we can get Mary Margaret and David to watch the kids, and you and I go on a date? Like, a real one where we get dressed up and go out and have full intentions to have sex afterward but really, we go to bed early and wake up feeling like humans again.”

“You are speaking my language.” Killian’s hand falls to Emma’s waist and inches back to give her ass a quick squeeze. “Go finish getting ready. You’re going to make me late to my first day on the job.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I might later.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Jace wanders into the closet as Killian is buttoning his shirt – the white button down and not his jersey – and he starts a long, very detailed conversation about the pros and cons of peanut butter with peanuts and without, and Killian does his best to pay attention to him and keep him occupied as Emma gets ready. That mostly means Jace tries climbing up on the shelves and grabbing Emma’s things, and after Killian is dressed and his hair is tamed enough, he picks Jace up and takes him to get dressed. The lucky kid doesn’t have to wear a suit. He gets to wear a Yankees sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, and his hair, curly mess that it is, will never be tamed. The baby monitor on Killian’s phone goes off, telling him Margot is up from her nap, and he takes Jace with him to MJ’s nursery to get her ready as well. Ariel is watching the two of them up in the suite today, bless her, and she’ll likely watch them for every game. They wanted to hire a nanny, but Ariel insisted that there were enough people to watch all the kids during the games. That’s a lie considering they’re all old and most of them have procreated now, so the kids far outnumber the adults.

It’s like a madhouse in their suite, and Killian could barely handle it when he only had Jace.

“Hello, little love,” Killian tells MJ as he changes her out of her pajamas and into the outfit Emma laid out. “Are you ready for your first baseball game? You don’t even know how much you’re about to have to watch this game. It’s going to be your entire life, whether you like it or not.”

“Where’s Will?” Jace asks.

“Big Will or little Will?”

“Little.”

“Where’d you leave him?” Killian asks as he pulls MJ’s pants up. “You had him while eating breakfast, so he might be in the kitchen.”

“Can I go check?”

“Give me a minute.”

“Too long.”

Killian chuckles and tries hurrying to dress Margot as she squirms and moves as much as anyone as small as her can, and he keeps his eye on Jace as he goes through the books in Margot’s room. She’s got a wall of them, something Emma saw on Pinterest and wanted to do, and while they’re supposed to be displayed nicely, Jace always has other ideas.

Thankfully, Emma’s heels start clicking down the hall, and she appears in the room, a vision in a cream dress that hugs her curves and heels that will definitely distract him for the rest of the day. Killian lets out a low whistle, and she rolls her eyes. “You’re a vision, darling.”

“Pretty, Mama,” Jace agrees.

“Thank you, baby.” Emma pulls her hand out from behind her back and Will the stuffed red lobster appears. She is magical, Killian swears. “I hear you’re looking for Will.”

“Thank you,” he squeals, moving from the books and toward Emma to get the lobster.

“You guys ready to go?” Emma asks. “You look nice, babe.”

“Better than I do in my uniform?”

Emma laughs. “Well, I like your ass in both.”

“Ass,” Jace squeals, and Emma covers her mouth, eyes wide.

“We’re ruining them,” she whispers behind her hands. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Killian chuckles and picks MJ up, holding her in the crook of his arm. “Blame it on Will if Jace says it in public.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m not the one who is teaching our son curse words while talking about how attracted I am to my husband’s behind.”

“Let’s just go,” Emma laughs, taking MJ from him and fussing with her hair. “We’re going to be late.”

They’re not late.

They’re not even close to late. They get to the stadium ahead of time, drop the kids off with Ariel, and they have time to sneak into the clubhouse and say hello to Will, Eric, Rob, and the rest of the guys. They’re in the middle of doing press and warm-ups, and Killian has to dodge questions of his own. His time as a baseball player is over, and two years later, that’s still hard for him to accept. It’s reality, however, and he ignores the ache in his chest and threads his fingers together with Emma as they leave the clubhouse and move to the production booth to do all of their pre-game tests. Emma is a natural, and he has to remind himself this is what she’s done for years. It’s her job, and she’s damn good at it. It’s his job now, too, but this isn’t what he was meant to do. He was meant to be out on the field, not behind the glass.

That’s the past. This isn’t. It’s the here and now.

And he’s thankful to still be involved in the game that has shaped his life.

“You’re going to be great,” Emma promises, reaching over and pressing her hand over his. “We’ve done practice runs. You’ve done this before. All you have to do is talk to me and talk about baseball. That’s literally what you already do every single day.”

“Hey now, I do have things in my life I love besides you and baseball. I also enjoy my kids and baking and complaining about different aches after I’ve exercised.”

“Well, you can talk about those things too.”

“Even the time I think I pulled a muscle in my ass?”

Emma rolls her eyes and adjusts her microphone. “I know I made you feel all good about it earlier, but stop talking about your ass.”

“Actually,” Ruby says from her spot behind the camera, “I feel like that would make our ratings go up.”

Killian shakes his head and chuckles, rolling in his chair and straightening his back as Emma does the same, adjusting her dress and not-so-slightly checking to see if she’s started leaking. Just another day in the life for them. Ruby holds up her fingers, counting down to the camera starting to roll, and Killian looks at Emma, waiting for her to begin.

“Hi, my name is Emma Jones, and I’m here with a familiar face to most of you. I’m thrilled to welcome former Yankees starting pitcher, three-time World Series Champion, two-time Cy Young Award winner, an eight-time All Star, and most impressively, the father of my children and my husband, Killian Jones. He’ll be working with me all season long, and I promise you he got the job all on his own merit. It has nothing to do with any strings I’ve pulled.��

“Well, that sounds a little suspicious, love.”

“Only if you point it out.”

Killian laughs and turns away from Emma to look at the camera. “I’m thrilled to be working with Emma and the rest of the crew this season, as well as getting to mercilessly critique my former teammates. Scarlet, I’m looking at you.”

“Welcome to Opening Day,” Emma chuckles, squeezing his hand under the desk, and his racing heart settles, the beat staying in the settled place where it always is with Emma by his side. No matter how much he wants to be out on the field and no matter how much he still misses it, he cannot imagine a place where he’d rather be right now. “Let’s look at this highlight reel of last season, and then we’ll talk about all the roster changes for this season. I think it’s going to be a good one.”

-/-

-/-

CMIYC tag list: @mrtinski @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @sherifemma @onepunintendid @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy @captainkillianswanjones @captain-emmajones

[lilmissbeanie]

Navigation Haikyuu Masterlist

Tobio Kageyama x F!reader Word count ~ 1977 Genre ~ Fuff - SFW Happy birthday @sunkissedautumn​ sorry that it’s a few days late!  This my first time writing Kags so we shall see how it goes!

Kageyama stood in the hall way stiff as a board with nerves, a light  blush covering his cheeks as he stared at the beautiful petit girl in front of him, he rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from her, thrusting his other hand out to her that held a teal, her favourite colour, bag, “happy birthday,” he mumbled  to her. 

The h/c girl, allowed her own blush to cover her cheeks as she gently took the bag from his finger, “thank you,” her own voice quiet and shy, the pair both liked one another but neither of them acted on their feelings. They had been friends since the first day of high school, he had bumped into her on his way to class, if he hadn’t caught her, she would have fallen to the floor. Kageyama apologised profusely to her and since they have been friends.  

She opened the bag and squealed, inside was the cutest plushie of a penguin, a keychain also a little penguin, she pulled out the card from within the bag, opening the envelope, she smiled at the card, there were two hand drawn little penguins hugging each with Happy Birthday written in bubble writing, she opened the card to find two tickets to aquarium. Looking up at threw her eyelash to meet Kageyama dark eyes, she bit her lip.  

“You, umm, you can take anyone you like, it doesn’t have to be me-” 

“I want to go with you,” She quickly cut him off, her blush spreading across her cheeks to her ears and down her neck as her words spilled from her lips, his own blush grew deeper as Kageyama nodded giving her a small smile. “So, umm, Saturday? At ten?”  

“I’ll pick you up from yours,” He replied, nodding placing a hand on her head giving it a gentle pat, making sure to not mess up her hair that was half tied back in a braid.  

Reaching up on her tiptoes, the girl, placed a quick gentle peck on his left cheek “Thank you for my presents, I'll see you later.” She quickly turned on her heels and headed to her classroom, hopping he didn’t see how deep red her blush had become.  

“So, did she like them?” The ball of energy known as Karasuno’s middle blocker suddenly appeared next to Kageyama after the girl had rushed off towards her classroom, his fingers were pressed against the spot where her lips lingered for a second. “Oi? Kageyama?” 

“Huh? What did you say Hinata?” The shorter ginger boy’s eyes widen at the fact that Kageyama didn’t snap at him, he knew why, smirking he replied, “She like the presents then.”  

Whipping his sweaty hands on the fabric of his black jeans before he knocked on the door to Y/n house. He had been here loads of times, for movie days to studying together but for some reason it felt different this time. This time he was picking her up and it was just going to be the pair of them, no one else, usually when they went out it would be with the rest of their friends such as Yachi, Hinata, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. He stood there waiting for the door to open, it felt like eternity, but she finally opened the door, there she stood in a doorway, wearing a boat neckline baby blue jumper, that was tucked into a black skater skirt, little tanned ballet pumps. She looked beautiful with her gently curled, she had put on a light layer of make up only marasca and a little eye shadow that matched her jumper.  

Y/n gently twirled her toes against the floor of the entry way pf her house. “Hi Kags,” She mumbled, y/n hands were gentle clasped behind her back. “Hi, S/n, ready to go?” The h/c girl smiled, grabbing a jacket and her purse.  The pair walked along toward the station, the two nervously both walked silently next to one another, both wondering what they should talk about, they had often spent time together alone, but both of them felt like it was so different this time, they weren’t even sure if you could class it as a date but it felt like it was a date the pair had taken forever to choose their outfits, to the point Y/n had called Kiyoko, even though she had graduated two years prior she was still close to the ex-Karasuno manager.  

Kageyama had done just the same, he had begun with Hinata who wasn’t much help, he also tried Tsukki and Yamaguchi, Yams being a little more helpful but Tsukki’s constant comments just made the matter more complicated. In the end he called Suga, who happened to be with Daichi and Asahi, of course Asahi jumped at the chance to help the boy dress appropriately. 

It was their seniors that put the idea in their heads that this was a date.   

“No, Kageyama! You can’t wear that on a date! Haven't you been crushing on this girl for the past three years.” Asahi grumbled, Kageyama could hear the former setter and captain laughing in the background. “Your nice black jeans you got last time you were in Tokyo with us, and the blue shirt I made buy. Yes, wear them, oh and do no wear trainers, you need to wear something comfy but not trainers.”  

“Y/n! You have to wear that black skater skirt; it hugs the curves of your waist nicely and pair it with your baby blue boat neck jumper.” Kiyoko smiled through the phone at the third-year manager who she recruited all those years ago, Tanaka appeared behind his girlfriend, planting a kiss on her cheek before saying; “Kiyoko is right that will suit you perfectly and make that boy drool for ya! Have fun on ya date!” Those final words cause the blush to explode over her cheeks and her eyes widen, before she could stutter out it wasn’t a date Tanaka had already hung up. 

The pair kept taking sly glances at one another, sometimes their eyes meeting, causing them both to look away quickly. Biting her lip, Y/n sighed though her nose, her lips parting to speak, but Kageyama words slipped out first, “So I was thinking we could look around the mall first, get some lunch before going to the aquarium?” 

“Sure!” Cringing at the sound of her own enthusiastic voice, thinking it was maybe to enthusiastic. Kageyama eyes widen at how cute she looked when she cringed. “Cute,” He mumbled chewing at the inside of his cheek.  

Y/n head flicked towards him, swearing she heard him say cute, yet it was so quiet and with the buzz of the people and the traffic of the street she barely heard him, so she couldn’t be sure, “Did you say something?” peering up at him, eyes burning with curiosity.  

“N-no,” he stuttered out, praying she didn’t actually hear him. They finally arrived at the mall, Y/n spotted the cute little stationary store, squealing she grabbed his hand dragging him in the direction of said store. It wasn’t until Y/n lift her hand to pick up one of the notebooks did she notice they were still holding hands. “O-oh I’m sorry.” She quickly let go, blushing.  

“It’s okay, I, umm, liked it.” He replied as he bit his lip, this may not be a date but Kageyama would be damn if he left today without telling her how he felt. “You did?” He nodded giving a small smile.  

Fuck it she thought, it’s been three years I should tell him how I feel, she peered up at him “Me too, so, um, want to, um,”  

“Y-yea I w-would.” He strutted out reaching his hand out to take her hand, Y/n thinking the same causing their hands to bump into one another's rather harshly. Both turning their heads away bashfully before laughing slightly. Kageyama reached out for her hand again, slipping his fingers between her, the blush on his face seeming to never disappear since the day started it. “So, s-shall we continue?”  

Y/n smiled up at him, giving him a nod, the pair left the stationary shop and continued to wander around the substantial shopping centre window shopping ever now and again either one of them would want to go into a shop, Y/n did laugh when Kageyama dragged her into the sports shop and was fussing over the latest range of volleyball shoes. She found his passion for volleyball admirable and quite adorable.  

Midday rolled around and the pair made there way to the food court, Y/n somehow managed to talk Kageyama into dropping his heathy diet for today and convinced him it was a burger and fries' time. They pair squabbled over who was paying, “No, S/n, this is your birthday treat you are not paying for a thing.” He nudged her shoulder while his smiling down at her. “So, what do you want? Tell me then go find us a table yea?” 

Grumbling under breath, “Fine, I’ll have a double cheeseburger meal with chocolate milkshake, thank you.” She gave his hand a squeeze before slipping her fingers out from between his. He nodded with a smile and gave her a gentle push towards the seating area. Pulling out her phone for the first time that day she had seen the third year volleyballers group chat had exploded with constant question of how hers and Kageyama’s day was going.  

From: Y/n   To: The boys and Yachi  12:16pm  Sorry guys, we just stopped for food we are having fun so far. 

She replied quickly before slipping her phone back into her pocket looking up to see where Kageyama was at, noticing that we was walking her way with a tray containing the food in his hands. He placed the tray down on the table before taking a seat opposite her. Thanking him she grabbed her burger and fries before the pair started to munch happily on the food, she couldn’t help the small giggle to slip past her lips as she saw the look of pure happiness spread over his face as he took his first bite of his burger. “When was the last time you had a burger?”  

“To be honest I cannot remember the last time I got a burger.” He shrugged continuing to scoff it down.  

They made their way to the aquarium, their hands slipping into one another naturally. Showing the tickets at the front desk they entered the first hallway which was filled with different types of corral and sea anemones, Y/n’s hand slipped from Kageyama’s as she giddily walked to the windows to peer in as Kageyama followed after her. He loved how happy she was looking at the different creatures.  

When they finally made it to the penguins, Y/n was struggling to contain her excited, “Kageyama! Look they are so cute!” Her voice filled with pure excitement as she wrapped her arms around one of his as she giggled.  

“Hey, um, Y/n?” Y/n head moved so quickly to look at him, Kageyama was sure she would have whiplash, she looked like a fish out of water with the way she was gaping at him.  

“You... You called me by my first name” She gasped at him, 

“Well it is your name.” He smirked at her, “I wanted to ask you something.” She nodded motioning him to continue. Kageyama bit his lip taking a deep breath. “Will you be my penguin? 

Her eyes widen at his words, before a face splitting smile crossed her face. “I would love to be your penguin, if you will be mine, Tobio?”  

Wrapping his around her shoulders pulling her into his side, he buried his nose in Y/n’s h/c hair with a gentle smile on his face. “There’s no one else I would allow to call me a penguin.”

Navigation Haikyuu Masterlist Discord

©️ All content  belongs to lilmissbeanie, do not copy, edit, repost or translate. 

[godzillamendoza]

Film School Week 1

I’ve always toyed with the idea of keeping a journal to splay out my thoughts and keep a record of the strange and often scary things that run through my head in times of stress. I’ve also heard that it could be a good way to relieve some of that stress, and as anyone that’s been in my position can attest, the first week of college is fucking stressful. 

Now, I’ve dreaded this for a long time. Not because the concept of higher education put me off, or because I secretly didn’t want to do it, or because I thought college was a waste of time. No, it’s because of the drive. I have a crippling fear of driving, which I may do another entry about later. In short, being behind a wheel makes me panic like a Spider-Man UE4 developer trapped in a room with a Marvel Executive and a lawyer. Something about driving gives me this feeling that the whole world is out to get me and every time someone goes around me because they think I’m not going fast enough or they honk at me for waiting too long to go when the light turns green all makes me want to climb out of my skin and leave this planet and go live on Mars in a hut with good wi-fi. (this isn’t stream of consciousness is it? Oh, I guess it is now.)

Anyway, the drive to school is 45 - 50 minutes long. A 10 minute drive to pick up my friend Josh from his apartment stresses me out, and as you an imagine, the drive to school is 4.5 - 5x worse than that. The first day of driving there alone came, my mother being busy with prior engagements at work and my father being lazy. I thought I’d use my GPS to get there, but google decided that instead of a straight path down the highway, I should get onto the highway, get off of it, get onto a different highway, and then eventually merge onto the one I was already on. This all being uncharted territory for me, I went along with it and added way too many extra steps to my commute. 

The first day on Monday was rather easy, being that it lasted 2 hours. Apparently the school had assigned me a schedule to go there on Mondays and Wednesdays every week, but then mysteriously altered it to Tuesdays and Thursdays without notifying me. The teacher in the first class spent the usual 2 hours rambling about safety procedures and reading from a syllabus. Though I figured something was wrong when he did the “what the fuck is everyone’s names” thing and said I didn’t appear on his class list. Class ended and I wandered to the front office to ask about it and discovered the mix up. 

This is the point where I considered something drastic and violent, because I had driven to the school one extra time than I needed to for the week and gas was expensive. I opted to make this day at least somewhat productive by making a short jaunt across campus and getting some financial aid paperwork to fill out at the main building of the school. This meant wading through the crowd of people all staring directly up at the sky with what looked like 3-D glasses from Sharkboy and Lava Girl. As much as I wanted to sit back and gawk with them at the cosmic ballet of a solar eclipse, I had things to get done. So I spent the majority of said eclipse in a waiting room as the student help desk thing ignored my request for a form that was in a basket two feet away from where the guy was fucking sitting I could just go back there and get it why do I have to wait this is fucking stupid I hate everything. Thankfully though I walked out with the form and got to see the eclipse at its peak with some of those 80s bully glasses they were handing out. 

Tuesday was boring. All we did was look through the syllabus AGAIN, but this time with a different teacher and a different set of students and it lasted the full day instead of one class. My rampant insomnia had kept me up until 3 AM the night before, which I consider impressive for myself seeing as how I saw the sunrise every day of summer. This led me to making some tweets to mock the situation and of course people immediately couldn’t tell when I was trying to be silly. I got a mixed bag of encouraging messages from fans that wanted me to succeed and several crazy people ranting about how I should get my money back and quit college because they had a bad experience with a completely different type of college in a different state. And as we all know, if someone has a bad experience or dislikes something, EVERYONE ELSE should disregard its existence forever under their advice. 

The highlight of Tuesday was a moment where I made a genuine connection with one of my teachers. He was a young guy, maybe in his early 20s, who had been editing since 2009 and graduated from the school, only to realize that he loved Post-Production enough to teach it between professional editing jobs. At one point he tried to demonstrate to a half asleep class that they should have a watchful eye for editing choices in other people’s projects to avoid their mistakes and emulate their strengths. Thus, he showed us the short film he had edited during his time in the class. It was some short that had premiered at our state’s film festival, chronicling the plight of an overworked steel-mill employee that began an unhealthy competition with him to receive a promotion and make his family proud. Then he murders his friend by pouring lava on him and making it look like a random industrial accident. The teacher began rolling through it and pointing out his own mistakes as an editor in the film. An act of humility that I found refreshing after going to high school and answering to a faculty of self absorbed assholes that became teachers to feel like they were important. He explained how he made continuity mistakes with a character placing his hand on his face in one shot, then in the next shot removing the opposite hand. Mistakes such as this drive people in the industry fucking crazy because they’re trained to look for it, but none of the students noticed the goof. Myself included. That was when he started briefly describing the scene with the lava and I derailed the whole flow of the class. 

I asked him more questions about how he did such an impressive visual effect and I genuinely feel like it made his day that I was so fascinated. He gave up on talking about the syllabus and instead talked with me about the process. Apparently they had gone out to the back of the school and placed a black felt mat behind a mannequin and then poured green paint on it. Then he rotoscoped the footage to show only the green paint, which he then digitally altered to have the texture and glow of molten steel. He then placed this footage over the actor in the scene, who simply just fell down on the set because real lava is expensive, and lined up the way it poured over the mannequin with the way it would have theoretically landed on the actor. Having seen a lot of visual effects tutorials or watching the behind the scenes videos for Dragon Ball Z abridged, I knew almost all of the terminology he had thrown my way and I kept up in the conversation rather nicely. I don’t know how the other students felt about it considering it was just them watching two guys geek out over special effects, but frankly I didn’t (and still don’t) give a shit. It was fun. This was followed by a drive home where the GPS told me to get onto the highway, then off of it, then under it, then over it, then onto it again. Suffice to say, driving was not fun that day and I got home with my hands shaking and my legs numb and my ass sore from sitting for 56 minutes. 

Thursday started with... well today is Thursday. But today started with me wanting to procrastinate getting out of bed, so against my better judgment I set my alarm clock forward an extra 20 minutes after it rang the first time. I laid in bed with my eyes closed and my heart pumping through the back of my spine at the thought of driving. I didn’t even sleep for that 20 minutes. I just waited. Thinking. Panicking. After that I took a shower for 30 minutes like an idiot. Starving African children could have eaten all that water I wasted. Then I got into the car, turned on the GPS and it said that the drive would last 55 minutes because traffic was so heavy on the highway. Class began in one hour. It offered an alternate route where I did the same bullshit gymnastics of getting off and on the highway 6 times, but I decided that I had the path memorized a certain way and I was going to stick to it. So I disregarded the antiquated GPS and just drove there from memory with about 8 minutes to spare before class started. I had a decent amount of sleep the night before and I was on time and the drive was easy. It seemed like things were off to a good start. Then things started becoming more clear. 

The teacher in my Production 1 class seemed different from other teachers in some way that I couldn’t quite place. But today in seeing him run through a Powerpoint on the basics of shot composition, the rule of thirds, shot types, etc. I figured out what was off. He wasn’t a teacher. He had no degree for it. He as just some guy who, much like everyone else teaching here, was a student with a passion for film who started passing his knowledge to a new generation. It didn’t feel like I was being talked down to, it felt like I was being talked to. It felt like he was just some nice guy, maybe even a friend, trying his damnedest to explain how this stuff works. And then I realized something funny on top of that. I already knew everything he was explaining because I had studied this stuff in my free time since I was 9 years old. I think the only new information I received that I hadn’t picked up from documentaries, books, or YouTube movie reviews, was the technical aspects of these fancy 4k cameras and special tripods they wheeled in from the back room. Sure I was as lost as everyone else when it came to the equipment, but the mechanics of shooting a scene, the methods of writing, the terminology of camera movements-- all of it I already knew.

The rest of the day after felt like something new. I felt like I was somewhere I gave a shit about what I was being told. After 8 years of drifting through school and feeling bored out of my mind (as well as some unhealthy levels contempt for my middle and high school’s respective staffs) I felt something bizarre. Caring. It was stuff I thought was cool. I was being taught stuff I’d probably be trying to figure out at home anyway if I wasn’t at the school. At long last, there was a sense of purpose. 

The Post-Production class was filled with editing terminology I wasn’t familiar with like the L-Cut, the J-Cut, Picture Lock and a few others. But I knew how to DO all of these things. I had already done them in my free time on YouTube projects. I finally had names for these processes I had self taught in my last 2 years of pursuing this strange potential career path. Things were starting to make sense and once again, the post production teacher and I ended up just talking about random technical stuff while the class probably rolled their eyes. He was barely older than me by a few years and he clearly shared a lot of my opinions and favored techniques for these things. I never expected that the first friend I’d make would be one of the teachers, especially given my history with authority. 

After that in my script analysis class I think I surprised the professor. He asked a question and I answered in a way that caused him to stutter and rethink his next words. I think I inadvertently stole his thunder a little by teaching the class a bit of film history that he wanted to tell. We were discussing types of characters and their levels of effectiveness with an audience. He asked “Why do you think the anti-hero become so popular in the 70s?” and I told him “because we had just gotten through Vietnam. In times of war, morals become more gray. Soldiers sometimes have to make tough decisions and do bad things for a good cause, Vietnam especially. When good and bad started to fade together in people’s minds it became easy for that to bleed into the writing at the time and you have more characters reflecting society’s feelings.”

He seemed impressed and annoyed at the same time as he said “that’s exactly right, yes.” But he continued on and I kept quiet the rest of the class. I’m sure he had characters in mind like Paul Kersey or Alex in Clockwork Orange. The entire time I rambled my psuedo-intellectual answer, all I had in mind was the Punisher. I was worried I’d end up sounding like an obnoxious know-it-all-teacher’s-pet asshole like Peter Parker in that new cartoon if I had kept going. It still felt nice to be right for once. Instead of being the bored/depressed kid in the back of the class praying for either death or the bell to ring, I was the smart one that was engaged and smiling. In fact, I started becoming self conscious and hyper-aware of it, but all day I think I was the only that just couldn’t stop... smiling. 

The drive home was better. I had finally figured out the most simple path and I just went for it. I disregarded the GPS and its dumbshit advice. Sure I spent 25 minutes of the trip in grid-lock dead stopped traffic, but I felt in control. I felt like I was confident in my ability to find my way home. I didn’t mind how slow it went because I knew that everyone on the road was in the same boat as me. And the slower you drive, the less likely you are to fly at the windshield if you clip a concrete divider. So I sat and talked to myself on the way home, cracking jokes back and forth with the voice in my head whom I’ve affectionately named “Co-Pilot” and I had an okay time. I got home and realized that everything was going to be okay. I kind of wanted to cry. I also kind of wanted to laugh. 

It felt like all these years of worrying about the inevitability of college and the dangerous commute just came off my shoulders. I felt like a boulder was lifted off my chest and I could breathe again. Now I know why I wanted so badly to go to this place for all these years. Its where I belong. And while it will certainly get a little stressful in the coming months to meet deadlines and collaborate with other creatives, its all the kind of stress I have spent the last years growing accustomed to by doing over the internet. Its not the stress of feeling stupid because I struggled so hard in my math class. Its just the same kind of hassle I’ve had to deal with already by virtue of being an artist. Its the kind of hassled I want to deal with because I know when the final product came out, it was all worth it. Feeling dumb in math class all these years to learn something arbitrary wasn’t worth it. This all feels right. Like I’m Jerry at a daycare for other Jerrys while Rick and Morty go off on adventures. This place was made for me. So yes, an art school is fucking worth my money because I’d rather feel what I’m feeling right now than be some 19 year old working in McDonald’s during the day and feeling hollow inside because I can’t express myself creatively. I hate that shit. 

This isn’t going to be easy, and there might be parts of it that suck. There might be parts of it that drive me to tears and anger, but it’s worth it. I finally found a place where I belong and that I love. Love isn’t easy. Its a lot of tiny problems to solve one by one to make a thing work in the long term. That’s okay. I’m prepared for that and there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. For just once. I’m feeling okay. And that feels kind of amazing.

[batmomhoe]

Light Within the Dark (Batfam)

Requested by @robinlover11620​

Summary: Batsis(brother) has depression and self harms but tries to keep it from the family.

Warning(s): DEPRESSION, SELF HARM, ANGST, Pretty long but worth it

With a sigh you rubbed your forearm, simply just to give your hands something to do while you tried to keep your thoughts from wandering. The big mansion was always its emptiest at night, the only other inhabitant being Alfred. But even he was preoccupied with manning the computers. It left you completely alone, feeling helpless  while your father and siblings fought crime.

To say you were defenseless was an understatement. You just weren't able to catch on to any sort of fighting lesson any of the family attempted to give you. It was difficult for you to muster the strength to even hit the punching bag let alone try and hit another person. Hiding your failure was tough, mainly because the family was so tight knit, regardless of your differences, that every member was interested in your training. So when they heard of your failure, most of them took it upon themselves to try and find a different teaching approach.

No one was able to succeed and you were left with Alfred, trying to help maintain the computers. But yet again you proved you couldn’t complete even the simplest of tasks. In the most affectionate way, Alfred suggested that you try and just focus on leading a normal life, different from your father and siblings. Though you couldn’t understand how that was possible in such a household, you tried your best.

You put on a smile, you tried to make friends, and friends you had! However, they weren’t friends, not true friends at least, they simply acquainted themselves with you because of your last name. They were superficial and never had their own, original opinions on anything, just assuming the opinion that was most favorable. Although they were people to talk to, you couldn’t help but loathe them, and loathe what they made other people think about you just because you associated with them.

Pulled from your daydream, you watched as the vigilantes made their way to the grandfather clock. They all were pumped up regardless of the serious faces they had plastered on while they chattered and bickered excitedly. You let out a small sigh and continued rubbing your arm, trying to focus on the color of your skin and the small birthmarks until they were all gone. After they were all in the batcave you headed up to your own cave, otherwise known as your room.

The familiarity and coziness welcomed you as the darkness and loneliness consumed you at the same time. The feelings seemed to hit you all at once, practically taking your breath away and immediately forced you to crawl into your bed to try and escape. You curled up and rested your head against the wall as you reached for your phone, hoping maybe you’d be surprised and someone felt interested enough about you to reach out and start a conversation.

Alas, that wasn’t the case, it never was the case, hell, not even your fake ass friends texted you, didn’t even try to invite you to their tea soiree this weekend. Upset at the lack of notifications on your phone screen, you threw it across your bed and curled into a tighter ball. At this point you couldn’t hold back the bad thoughts, or the tears. They all came pouring at once, tears streaming down your face as the voice inside your head reminded you about how much of a failure, how much of a loner, how much of a goddamn fuck up you were.

Instinctively, the hands resting on your head pulled themselves away slightly before they collided with your head again. You hit yourself again and again until there were no more tears to accompany your hands. Instead, you let you hands fall to your sides and you looked up at the ceiling. Now was when the darkest thoughts crept in, as your eyes stung from crying so hard.

Tiredly, you lolled your head to the side, looking over to your bed side table. You knew what was in the drawer and you tried, you tried so hard not to reach over, but before you knew it, you already had the small razor blade in your hand. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself that you should stop cutting, you just couldn’t. Pulling your pants leg up, you looked over all the past scars peppering your skin before you pressed the cool metal against your flaming skin.

Tears stung your eyes again as the blade sunk in while you applied more pressure. Before long, the familiar crimson red began to ooze from where you first started the cut. When you stopped, you simply pressed it to another spot and started again, the pang of pain forcing your thoughts to focus on it rather than your failures. You don’t know how many times you repeated the process, but your leg was a mixture of bright red and crimson red.

Suddenly the door opened to reveal Tim’s figure, standing in your doorway, “(Y/N)?” He questioned softly and looked around the dark room for you before he flipped the light on. In your after-breakdown slump, you couldn’t even bring yourself to hide what you had down. You simply laid there, looking at Tim with blood shot eyes, tears dried on your face as scarce ones still fell, your arms limply to your sides, the blade still in hand, and your pant leg still up, showing off your latest masterpiece.

“(Y/N)?!” Tim’s eyes went wide and he lunged himself on to the bed, kneeling next to you in no time flat. He looked you over quickly, the sight quickly bringing tears to his eyes, the familiarity hitting him. “Why didn’t you tell me...” He trailed off and looked down as you could only manage to close your eyes as your lip quivered. Tim pulled you into a soft hug, rubbing your back oh-so-gently. “I know how you feel...” He admitted quietly, almost whispering. Slowly he pulled back and lifted himself off of the bed.

Tim went back to the doorway and called out into the hallway, “Damian. Come here.” He caught Damian’s attention and Damian was about to retort at him before he noticed Tim was standing in front on your room. Damian raised an eyebrow and Tim lowered his eyebrows before answering the unspoken question quietly, “Go get Dick. But not Bruce, not right now...” The detective ordered secretively before watching Damian take off faster than he knew was possible.

In the meantime, Tim helped you move, giving quiet praise and words of encouragement as you moved and got yourself back in order. He gently cleaned your leg and pulled your pant leg back down before wiping the dried tears from your face. Dick all but sprinted into the room, face white as a ghost while he quickly examined the scene, with Damian and Cass right behind, looking quite similar. Although Tim did a good job of getting you back together, Dick noticed the bloodied razor on the night stand.

“(Y/N)...” Dick trailed off and came to sit on the other side of you, pulling you in for a hug and into his warming aura. Damian stood at the edge of the bed, eyebrows furrowed, not sure of how to process the situation let alone react to it. “You can always come to me, no matter what.” Dick continued as he stroked your hair, trying to fight back his own tears. Cass sat right in front of you, her face obviously upset as she patted your knee.

“We don’t want to lose you,” Tim chimed in solemnly, rubbing over your leg where he bandaged. “We can’t lose you.” Damian spoke up, voice cracking, and everyone looked at him, slightly surprised to find tears streaming reluctantly down his cheeks. “I can’t lose you.” Damian added gently, “You’re the only sane one around here.” He joked lightly as he flashed you a small smile.

You couldn’t help but start to cry again because of their sweet words, and mainly because you couldn’t stand to see Damian actually cry, let alone Dick and Tim crying too. Damian ended up sitting next to Dick, and gladly participated in the group hug. Cass was the only one not crying at this point and she waited until it seemed like everyone settled down to speak up. “Talk?” She questioned gently but firmly as she cupped your cheek and wiped away your new tears.

With a nod you pulled your knees up to your chest again and softly began explaining to your family members how left out and useless and alone you felt. Sad faces surrounded you until you finished and it seemed like everyone sighed. The severity of the situation fully sunk into everyone, and they were all a bit shaken up at the thought of loosing a family member and not to some crazed villain but the fact that they neglected to think about how alienated you must have felt.

The long talk ended in an ice cream social in the kitchen at about three in the morning, all of you continuing to talk through problems and feelings. During this, no one held back, not even Damian’s wall around his feelings could stand to stay up. Cass admitted she felt neglected because hardly anyone came to her last ballet recital. Dick confessed that he thought everyone hated him for being so happy-go-lucky and emotional at times. Tim revealed that during his late nights of staying up he often had similar breakdowns and dark thoughts as well. Damian, although reluctant, disclosed that he believed everyone thought less of him because of how he was brought up and the beliefs that were instilled in him from birth.

Although the siblings were quick to extinguish the other’s worries, it brought a lot to light that the others didn’t think about. Everyone went back to normal the next day, but they also made sure that every now and then, they’d go out of their way to make sure that everyone was doing okay. Damian made it a point to remind the family if Cass had a recital coming up. Dick made sure to call Tim during the early hours of the morning in case he was in the middle of a slump. Cass went out of her way to make sure she smiled back at Dick and hugged him when it looked like he was feeling down.

And each and every one of them made it a point to invite you to do something or talk to you. Barbara called and invited you to computer/comic/technology conventions where you were able to meet a lot of people. Tim invited you to crash in his room to keep him company while he worked out a case. Damian invited you to his early morning meditation(which sometimes you actually did attend.) Dick pretty much always invited you over for sleepovers in Bludhaven.

BONUS - STEPH AND JASON

Three weeks later...

“So, I herd you were having some troubles.” Jason brought up the subject nonchalantly as he flopped next to you on the couch.

With a huff, you crossed your arms and nodded, you knew he had ulterior motive to invite you over, “Yeah, I still kinda am, but it’s... it's better now.”

“That’s good. We felt kinda bad when Dick told us and we weren’t there, well, actually Cass told me first, but still,” Steph piped in, sitting cross legged on the rocking chair.

“Y’know you can always call us. I just didn’t ever think you’d be down for a sleepover in this dump, “ Jason shrugged as he referred to his apartment.

“And trust me, I am always down for Denny’s literally any time of day. Literally. Breakfast all day is my shit. Also the zoo is my shit. And camping...” Steph grinned as she continued on.

Jason sighed and turned to fully face you, “A lot of times we did think about reaching out, but y’know, I always thought you were busy doing normal stuff, or didn’t want to associate with the shit we do.”

Steph nodded with a small shrug, “I didn’t think you’d wanna hang out with me.”

“Really? But you guys are so cool and kick literal ass, that’s something I can’t do. I thought you were too busy to do stuff, and to be honest I thought you didn’t want to hang out with someone as weak as me.” You admitted in return with a meek shrug.

“That just means I’ll get to protect you!” Steph chimed with a wink and a cheesy finger gun before flexing her arms.

Jason laughed and grinned, “I could always teach you how to shoot.”

Your eyes went wide, “Uh, no thanks, I think I'm better with just sleepovers. And Bruce would not like that.”

“Exactly!” They both grinned and looked at you excitedly.

“Let’s just stick with the South Park marathons for now.”

“Fineee,” Jason and Steph huffed and Jason played the next episode before passing around the plethora of junk he bought for the occasion.

(I’m sorry Barbara didn’t get much D: but this request really hit home hard.)

IF YOU ARE FEELING DEPRESSED/SUICIDAL PLEASE USE THE RESOUCRES:

Suicide Prevention Website: Phone Number: 1-800-273-8255

Teen & Health Wellness Website

Seven Cups of Tea Website

[roxanncweasley]

the art of being a gentleman

because who doesn’t want a muggle au? 

James should be thinking about several things.

He should be thinking about his history course work due in two days or his match on Saturday. He should be thinking about the prefect timetable he has yet to organise and he definitely should be thinking about the niggling pain in the back of his knee and if he should mention it to his coach. What he categorically shouldn’t be thinking about is the pretty redhead at his bus stop and how he wants to kiss the colour out of her lips and hold it in his chest.

She’s wearing those bloody jeans again, the same as the week before, that hug her legs and around her waist (and other areas James definitely isn’t looking at). The streetlamps have already clicked on, her skin is woven gold under the amber light.

He can’t look away, won’t look away as she wanders up and down the bus stop, her fingers tapping at her phone screen and her mouth lifting into a lazy smile as she reads a text. Thunderous grey clouds hang heavy in the sky and he wonders if he is going mad, standing in the cold about to be soaked when with one call he could have a car pick him up with complimentary tea and biscuits.

The girl smiles again and he knows he’s going mad because his heart is pumping in his throat and flowers are growing through his ribs. His phones rings and he lifts it to his ear, noticing there is still a smear of blood across his bruised knuckles.

“We need your help,” Sirius tells him. James can hear what he thinks is Pete trying to move a bed. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the bus stop, I need to nip to the flat to grab something.” James tells him, craning his neck to see if the bus is coming. The girl glances at him, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth. James flashes her a grin and blood burns up the neck he so desperately wants to press his lips against.

“I thought that’s what you were doing last week?” Sirius replies.

“Yeah, I just need something else.” James winces at the silence that follows. There’s another crash and Pete is violently swearing.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that redhead who was on the bus last week, would it?”

James can’t stop his eyes flickering to where she stands, leaning against a lamppost, her silhouette cut from the shadows. “Err- potentially- anyway why did you need me?”

“We’re trying to find Moony’s philosophy notes, he’s hidden them.”

He runs his hand through his hair, it needs a wash to get rid of the remnants of mud. “Obviously, last time you used them you spilt gin all over them.”

“That wasn’t my fau- oh you utter bastard you know where they are don’t you?”

James laughs and leans against the crumbling brick wall behind him. “Look, Pads, I’ve got to go, I’ll see you tonight.”

There’s more crashing and what sounds like ‘James you fucker’ before James can press end call. The girl is staring at him, the corner of her mouth twitching. He pockets his phone with a sheepish grin at her. He’s about to ask her something, anything. Words are climbing up his throat and dancing across his tongue, a ballet of letters held between his teeth.

Then the sky opens.

The rain isn’t particularly heavy but it’s the sort that seeps under the skin and lingers in the blood, James’s hair is already damp by the time he gets his hood up. The girl is shivering, her thin jumper soaked through. James’s legs start moving before his brain does, his hands unzipping his rugby bag and fishing out his school hoodie. The girl looks confused, James must too because he’s not really sure what he’s doing.

“Here, it’ll stop you freezing to death.” He says, offering it to her. She reaches for it, uncertainty spilling out of her eyes. “I’m James, by the way.”

“You’re not a serial killer, are you?” she asks once she’s tugged it over her head. He almost misses the question, thinking too much about how she would look in nothing but his rugby shirt.

She’s staring at him expectantly, her brow crinkled ever so slightly.

“Only on Thursdays, you should be safe.”

She laughs, sunlight falling from her lips, her fingers tucking strands of copper hair under the hood. “I’m Lily,” she says. Lily. He nods, it settles in his stomach like it’s always been there, Lily. The rain keeps up it’s symphony on the pavement.

“So how posh are you, on a scale of Eddie Redmayne to Prince William?” she asks. Her eyes are alight, her voice bubbling like cheap champagne. He thinks he might be already drunk.

He raises an eyebrow, pretends to look offended, drinks in the light that’s pouring out of her. “Me, posh? Never.” Her phone beeps but her hands stay tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, he lets a drop of warmth creep into his bones.

“Seriously though, I hear your school fees are insane.”

He glances at the crest stitched into his jacket, into the hoodie, into his skin. Red and gold and laughter and adrenaline and home. “I’m not that posh. Sirius, he’s a lord, but I’m nothing special.”

He knows the weight the name carries, knows the looks in the street, the eyes noting the tie and blazer, the polished shoes and tailored trousers. He knows what they think of, arrogance smirks and burnt fifty pound notes, wrecked cars and opportunities thrown about like paper in a classroom. They’re not all like that, he’s not like that.

“A lord, huh?” she says, “Can you get me his number?”

He lets his jaw drop as she giggles. “Well, Lily, I’ll have my hoodie back if that’s your attitude.”

She crosses her arms over her chest (not looking not looking not looking) and shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry, don’t take away the hoodie.” She says, jutting out her bottom lip and looking mildly pathetic. He lets a smirk play over his lips, watches as her cheeks tint ever so slightly.

“I’ll let you off, just this once.”

The bus appears at the end of the road and he holds his arm out, letting her climb on first when it’s door clunk open (his mother raised a gentleman of sorts after all). She’s waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs and he follows her onto the top deck where she flops into a seat, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I’m so tired,” she moans, covering her eyes with her hand.

He laughs and raises his own to lower his hood and runs his fingers through his hair.

He hears Lily gasp and suddenly her fingers are tracing the ripped skin littered across the back of his hand, ghosting over the mottled bruises and bloodies knuckles. “What the fuck did you do?” she asks. He thinks, he hopes, he can hear concern.

“Some twat stamped on my hand with studs.” He can’t stop the anger that tremors up his throat. He can’t stop the rage that bubbles at the thought of the words sneered in the dining hall and scribbled in the back pages of textbooks.

Lily is still holding his hand, her chipped blue nails next to his torn ones. “It’s rugby, it’s normal,” he tells her, seeing her brow stay creased and her eyes flicker up and down his palm. He doesn’t tell her that it’s got worse recently, that the boys who would scoff at her battered bag and high-street clothes will grow up to sit in the benches at Westminster, that the boys who already hate her and the rest of her school will be the men who will try and tear her family into the streets, law by law.

No, he won’t be the one to tell her he shares classrooms with the lowest of the low.

He lets her release his hand and listens as she talks about the latest films that she’s been waiting to come out and a protest she’s going to next week. The bus turns a corner and she leans into him, the warmth from her leg leaking into his. She blushes a little and he raises his eyebrows.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me, Lily, but you don’t have to be so obvious.”

She hits him and he is laughing so hard that he nearly falls off his seat.

He thinks he could sit here forever but his stop is coming up and his lead filled hand just about manages to press the bell. Her smile drops ever so slightly and she starts to shrug off his hoodie.

“Keep it,” he says. “It’s still raining.”

“It was nice meeting you.” She says, fingers tucking hair behind ears. “and thank you.”

He finds a pen in his pocket and tugs her arm towards him gently, rolling up the sleeve of the hoodie and pulling off the cap with his teeth. Before she has time to say anything he’s writing his number up her forearm.

“Text me when you get home, it’s dark.” He tells her. She bites her lip and smiles and he thinks that his ribcage is about to explode.

“Do you normally show this much concern for strangers?” she asks.

The bus rolls to a stop. He pulls himself to his feet. “Only the pretty ones.”

[trippingonroads-blog1]

The Nutcracker

Today is my Mother’s birthday and since my brother and sister-in-law took her and my sister in-law’s mother to The Nutcracker last year, we decided to propose the exact same idea. So that’s what we did. We went to The Nutcracker, the Peasant’s Ballet, as every other peasant family in America does at Christmas. We go and watch a Russian show about a mystic toy maker and rats and candy people at war in which everybody communicates through delicate dance. Very weird tradition but fuck if it isn’t fun. I saw an abridged Nutcracker in LA a couple years ago at The Wiltern that pumped in the music via stereo and featured pretty mediocre dancing, so seeing the Boston Ballet’s balls to the walls, full-tilt version was a trip. Like, really, it was awesome.

Let’s recount the story of The Nutcracker because I never really got it until tonight.

A strange witch doctor of a toymaker beguiles a bunch of street children with cheap magic tricks and reveals to them his favorite toy, a nutcracker, that looks lame as fuck to the raggedy children. Somehow, this shaman parlays disappointing children into an invite to a sick aristocratic party at some Russian oligarch’s house where the adults don’t speak to each other and the children run wild and undisciplined, treating one another like cat litter. Of course, the toy guru is there to play Santa Claus in a culture that doesn’t have any special cultural ties to Santa whatsoever. He distributes toys and saves that special nutcracker for the oligarch’s daughter, Clara, whom he deems the most beguiling of all the pre-teens. The impressionable little girl loves the nutcracker and the special attention from the sorcerer so she dances an incredibly hands-on and deeply inappropriate dance with him that draws no scorn whatsoever from her inexplicably proud father.

That night, Clara places her new toy underneath the Christmas tree and lays down to sleep on the couch because all of the other strange boys and girls called dibs on all the beds in the 26-bedroom mansion. Before (or is it?!) she can fall asleep, a dozen human-sized rats come running from the kitchen where they have seized a cornucopia of sweets and they resolve that the tastiest of morsels would be the flesh of a young girl. Clara is doomed. But wait! The clever little mage has been watching her from the shadows, probably caressing himself, and he emerges just in the nick of time to conjure the nutcracker to life, who promptly raises an army to combat the rats and the villainous Rat King.

The nutcracker army wages glorious war against the humanoid rats, easily overwhelming the beasts with their guns and cannons because they are literal fucking vermin. At one point, a drunk depressive rabbit and an obliterated gingerbread boy wander onto stage because ballet? When the battle is won, the pernicious warlock removes the nutcracker’s ungainly golem head and replaces it with a normal human one, much to the delight of the, again, twelve-year-old girl. This grown ass man again lays his hands liberally on and around the girl’s body as they twirl together in celebration, and as they rejoice in one another’s alarmingly accelerating pre-coitus, the Snow Queen arrives with a gang of fairies and the onset of a blizzard.

But she is a fair Snow Queen who was pulling for the Nutcracker Prince all along and she just brought the snow to party. The whole menagerie — the Snow Queen, her fairy squad, the Nutcracker Prince, Clara, and the goddamn wizard who is for some reason still here — dance through a blizzard and a cloud comes down from on high, inviting Clara and the Nutcracker Prince to run away together. Clara, because she desperately needs more positive male role models, gets on the cloud without hesitation and allows the probably balding Nutcracker Prince to abduct her.

That’s Act One.

After Clara’s been kidnapped by a 35-year-old man in a leotard that she’s convinced herself she’s in love with, the Nutcracker Prince introduces her to the Sugar Plum Fairy, who is his bottom bitch, and the Sugar Plum Fairy is like, “Hey Clara, I’m number one up here and I’m gonna do all the dancing from now on, but you can put this crown on your head and sit in this chair with that voodoo prince you brought and we’ll pretend like you’re important and stuff.” Don’t know how toy man got there but he got there somehow.

Then, because the Nutcracker Prince’s homeland is apparently a melting pot shockingly similar to Eurasia, a bunch of dancers puts on a show. (This part of the show is often considered controversial but I thought they did a good, tasteful job. Tchaikovsky was probably an accidental racist because he was a rich 19th-century Russian but don’t let his latent prejudices hurt every performance of The Nutcracker.) There are Arabian, Chinese, and Spanish dancers; an eight-foot tall, sixteen-foot wide woman who spawns dancing children seemingly at will; and, of course, the crowd pleasers — the Russians. After they’ve all shown Clara what a bad dancer she actually is, the Nutcracker Prince and the Sugar Plum Fairy really rub her nose in it. While the necromancer coyly attempts to slip a finger beneath her dress, the Nutcracker Prince and the Sugar Plum Fairy gush into the most gorgeous and breathtakingly romantic of numbers, making the finale all about their love while Clara learns a hard lesson.

Then, she wakes up with the nutcracker next to her, the evil clown nowhere to be seen, with a crown on her head. Wait, what?! A crown?! Did it really happen?! It’s a great cliffhanger that I hope will be explored in The Nutcracker 2.

Are we sure The Nutcracker didn’t create Rasputin?

[anavoliselenu]

This man chapter 20

Kate springs from the stool. ‘Yes!’ she sings enthusiastically. ‘I’ve been dying to see this place.’

‘It’s a hotel, Kate.’ I roll my eyes, but let her have her excitement. My car’s at hers, so I’m kind of stuck without her. ‘Give me five.’ I run upstairs to change into my jeans and ballet pumps, meeting Kate at the front door in record time. I send Justin a quick text to tell him I’m on my way.

It’s time to lay my cards on the table.

Chapter 36

We walk into the Sunday evening sunshine, but I don’t see Margo Junior. I scan the car park for the big, pink van, but it’s not like you can miss the giant heap of metal.

‘Oh, I hope you don’t mind.’ Kate laughs nervously, just as I spot my Mini, roof down and parked in one of Justin’s spaces.

‘You’re a cheeky cow!’

She waves off my insult. ‘Don’t you narrow those big browns on me, Selena O’Shea. If I didn’t drive her, then she would be sat outside the house for eternity. It’s a waste.’ The indicators flash, and I put my hand out for the keys, which she reluctantly hands over on a huff.

We drive out towards the Surrey Hills discussing the merits of domineering men. We both reach the same conclusion: Yes to sex and no to all other aspects of a relationship.

The problem is: Justin manages to drag sex into all aspects of our relationship, using it, mostly, to get his way. And I can’t ever seem to say no so I’m pretty much doomed. This could all be over within an hour. The thought sends an unbearable ache to my stomach, but I have to be sensible here. I’m already in way over my head.

I pull off the main road, up to the gates. They open immediately, letting me through.

‘Holy shit!’ Kate exclaims as we drive up the long, gravel driveway, flanked by trees.

She’s in awe already and she hasn’t even seen the house yet. We eventually emerge into the courtyard. It’s busy.

‘Holy f**king shit!’ She gapes at the imposing property, leaning forward in her seat. ‘Justin owns this?’

‘He does. There’s Sam’s car.’ I pull into a space next to the Porsche.

‘I can’t believe he comes here to have lunch.’ she grumbles, joining me on my side of the car. ‘Holy f**king shit!’

I laugh at Kate’s amazement – she doesn’t shock easily. I lead her towards the steps, expecting to find John greeting us, but he doesn’t appear. Instead, I find the double doors ajar, so I push my way through. Looking back at Kate, I see her gazing around, open mouthed and wide eyed at the splendid surroundings.

‘Kate, shut your mouth.’ I scorn her lightly.

‘Sorry.’ She snaps her mouth shut. ‘This is one fancy place.’

‘I know.’

‘I want a tour.’ she says, craning her neck to look up the stairs.

‘Get Sam to give you a tour.’ I say shortly. ‘I need to see Justin.’ I head past the restaurant and towards the bar, spotting Sam and Drew immediately.

Sam gives me a huge, cheeky grin as he swigs his beer, but spits it out when Kate follows in behind me. ‘Fuck! What are you doing here?’ he splutters.

Drew turns, clocks Kate and breaks out in uncontrollable laughter. I frown.

Kate looks less than delighted. ‘I’m pleased to see you too, dick!’ she spits indignantly at a stunned Sam.

He quickly shoves his beer on the bar, pulling a stool up close to him. ‘Sit!’ He bashes the top of the stool, giving Drew a worried look.

‘Don’t order me about, Samuel!’ The look of disgust on her face is fierce. I’ve never seen Sam so twitchy before. Is he hiding something? Perhaps, it’s the girl from Starbucks?

He pats the stool again, smiling nervously at her. ‘Please,’

Kate makes her way over, resting her bum on the stool. Sam pulls her even closer. She’ll be on his lap soon.

‘Buy me a drink.’ she demands on a half-smile.

‘Just one.’ he affirms, signaling to Mario. Jesus, he’s breaking out in a sweat. ‘Selena?’

‘No, I’m good. I’m going to find Justin.’ I thumb over my shoulder as I start walking backwards.

‘Does he know you’re here?’ Sam asks, all wide eyed.

What’s the matter with him? ‘Well, I text him,’ I glance around the bar, seeing plenty of familiar faces from my previous few visits to The Manor. I’m pleased to note there’s no Sarah, but this means nothing, of course. She could be anywhere in this huge house. ‘But he didn’t reply.’ I add. It’s only now I realise how strange that is.

Sam gives Drew a nervous look, prompting Drew to laugh harder. ‘Wait here, I’ll go and get him.’

‘I know where his office is.’ I say on a frown.

‘Selena, will you just wait here?’ Sam’s face is pure panic. I’m super suspicious now. He fixes Kate with a stern glare as he gets up. ‘Don’t move.’

‘How much have you had to drink?’ Kate asks, eyeing his bottle of beer. Has Kate picked up on his unease too?

‘This is my first and last, trust me. I’m going to get Justin, then we’re leaving.’ He looks around the bar nervously. Okay, now I’m convinced he’s definitely hiding someone or something. I’m beginning to wish Sarah was in here because then I would know for sure that she isn’t with Justin. I’m bristling from head to toe.

He jogs off, leaving Kate and I exchanging puzzled faces.

‘Excuse me ladies,’ Drew gets up. ‘Nature calls.’ He leaves us at the bar like a couple of spare parts.

‘Oh, f**k this,’ Kate exclaims, taking my hand. ‘Give me the tour.’ She pulls me back towards the entrance hall.

‘A quick one,’ I agree, taking over the lead and guiding her up the massive staircase. ‘I’ll show you the rooms I’m working on.’

We reach the balcony landing and Kate’s gasps increase as she takes in the opulent splendor of The Manor. ‘This is some serious special.’ she mumbles, gazing around in awe.

‘I know. He inherited the place from his uncle when he was twenty one.’

‘Twenty one?’

‘Hmmm,’

‘Wow!’ Kate blurts. I look behind me, finding her gawking at the huge stained glass window at the foot of the second staircase.

‘This way,’ I call behind me, walking through the archway that leads to the extension rooms, leaving Kate to scuttle after me. ‘There are ten altogether.’

She follows me into the middle of the room, gazing around. I can’t deny, they are mighty impressive, even as empty shells. Once completed, though, they’ll be royal worthy. Will I get through to completion? After our little sorting of shit I might not see this place again. I can’t say that would disappoint me. I don’t like coming here.

I wander further into the room and follow Kate’s gaze to the wall behind the door. What the hell?

‘What’s that?’ Kate asks the question that’s batting around in my own head.

‘I don’t know. It wasn’t here before.’ I run my eyes over the huge, wooden, crucifix style cross propped up against the wall. With giant, black, wrought iron screw eyes bolted to the corners, it looks imposing, but it’s still a fine piece of art. ‘It must be one of the big wall hangings Justin was talking about.’ I approach the piece, running my hand over the highly polished wood. It’s spectacular – if a little intimidating.

‘Oh. Sorry, ladies.’ We both swing around, finding a middle aged man in overalls holding a sander in one hand and a coffee in the other. ‘Looks good, huh?’ He points up at the frame with his sander as he takes a slurp of his coffee. ‘I’m just checking the size before I make the others.’

‘You made this?’ I ask in disbelief.

‘I certainly did.’ He laughs, joining me by the cross.

‘It’s stunning.’ I muse. It’ll fit in perfectly with the bed I designed that Justin loved so much.

‘Thank you, Miss.’ he says proudly. I turn around and see Kate observing the piece of art on a frown.

‘We’ll leave you to it.’ I give Kate the lets-be-going nod, and she smiles at the workman before following me out of the room.

We walk back through to the gallery landing. ‘I didn’t get it.’ she grumbles.

‘It’s art, Kate.’ I laugh. It’s not pink and chintzy, so I’m not surprised she doesn’t like it. Our tastes are very different.

‘What’s up there?’

I follow her gaze up the staircase to the third floor, stopping to look with her. Those intimidating doors are slightly ajar. ‘I don’t know. I think it might be a function room.’

Kate takes the stairs. ‘Let’s have a look.’

‘Kate!’ I start after her. I’m keen to find Justin. The longer I delay speaking to him, the longer I have to convince myself not to. ‘Kate, come on.’

‘Just a peek.’ she says, pushing against the doors. ‘Fuck!’ she screeches. ‘Selena, look at this.’

Okay, my curiosity has been well and truly teased. I run the rest of the way up the stairs and into the function room, skidding to an abrupt halt next to Kate. Fucking hell.

‘Excuse me!’

We both look in the direction of the foreign accented voice. A dumpy lady, holding cleaning cloths and anti-bacterial spray, comes wobbling towards us.

‘No, no, no. I clean. The communal room is closed for cleaning.’ She shoos us back towards the door.

‘Chill out, Senorita,’ Kate laughs. ‘Her boyfriend owns the place.’

The poor woman recoils at Kate’s harshness, giving me the once over before bowing. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She shoves her spray in her apron and clasps my hands in her tanned wrinkled fingers. ‘Mr Ward, he not say you come.’

I fidget uncomfortably on the spot at the woman’s panic, throwing Kate a disgusted look, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too busy looking around at the colossal room we’re stood in. I smile reassuringly at the Spanish cleaner, who’s got herself in a bit of a pickle over my presence.

‘It’s fine, really.’ I assure her. She bows again, moving off to the side, leaving Kate and me to try and comprehend our surroundings.

I gaze around, and the first thing that strikes me is how beautiful the room is. Just like the rest of the house, this room has been lavished with beautiful materials and furniture. The space is huge, easily spanning half of the entire buildings floor area, and as I look around, I realise it backs onto its self, circling around the stairwell. We’ve entered the centre of the room, so it’s even bigger than I originally thought. The ceiling is high and vaulted, with wooden beams stretching from end to end and over-elaborate, gold chandeliers hanging between them, offering a hazy glow of light. The room is dominated by three arched, Georgian sash windows, dressed in crimson, with Austrian blinds edged in gold jute braid. Miles and miles of gold silk, piped in crimson braid, is softly gathered and held in place at the sides by simple gold ombres. The deep red walls provide a dramatic backdrop for elaborately dressed beds that are positioned around the room.

Beds?

‘Selena, something tells me this isn’t a function room.’ Kate whispers.

She starts to wander off to the right, while I remain frozen in place, trying to grasp what I’m looking at. It’s an immense, super luxurious, communal bedroom – The Communal Room.

The walls are free from paintings, allowing space for various gold metal frames, hooks and hoists. They all look innocent enough, like extravagant wall hangings, but as my mind starts to recover from its shocked state, the significance of the room and its contents start to filter into my brain. A million reasons try to distract me from the conclusion I’m slowly drawing, but there is no other explanation for the devices and contraptions surrounding me.

The delayed reaction finally crashes down. ‘Fucking hell,’ I whisper to myself.

‘Watch your mouth.’ His soft voice rolls over me.

I fly around and find him stood behind me, watching quietly, his hands in his jean pockets, his face completely expressionless. My tongue is like lead in my mouth as I search my brain for something to say. What can I say? My head is invaded with a million memories of the last few weeks. All of the times I’ve brushed things off, ignored things or, more to the point, been distracted from things. Things he’s said, things other people have said – things I thought odd, but didn’t pursue because I was distracted by him. He’s been distracting me this whole time. He’s been going out of his way to keep all of this from me. What else is he keeping from me?

Kate appears in my peripheral vision. I don’t have to look at her to know she’s probably displaying a similar facial expression to me, but I can’t drag my eyes away from Justin to be sure.

He flicks his gaze in Kate’s direction, smiling at her nervously.

Sam barges into the room. ‘Oh, f**king hell! I thought I told you to stay put!’ he shouts, fixing Kate with a furious glare. ‘Damn you, woman!’

‘I think we need to go.’ Kate says quietly, walking towards Sam and taking his hand to lead him out of the room.

‘Thank you.’ Justin nods at them before returning his eyes to me. His shoulders are slightly raised, signaling his tenseness. He looks really worried. He should be.

I hear the hushed, angry whispers of Kate and Sam as they take the stairs, leaving us alone in the communal room.

The communal room. It all makes sense now. That crucifix downstairs is no wall art. The strange grid-like contraption in the suite was no antique. The women sauntering around the place like they live here are not business women. Well, they might be, but not while they’re here.

Oh God, help me.

I watch as Justin teeth start a good work out on his bottom lip. My strained heartbeats are quickening by the second. This certainly explains the thoughtful moments he’s been drifting in and out of over the last few days. He must have known I would find out? Was he ever going to tell me?

He drops his eyes to the floor. ‘Selena, why didn’t you wait at home for me?’

My shock starts to simmer into anger as everything starts clicking into place. I’m so dense! ‘You wanted me to come.’ I remind him.

‘Not like this.’

‘I sent you a text. I told you I was on my way.’

He frowns. ‘Selena, I haven’t received a text from you.’

‘Where’s your phone?’

‘It’s in my office,’

I go to retrieve my mobile, but then his words from this morning seep back in to my brain. ‘Is this what you wanted to talk about?’ I ask. He didn’t want to talk about us at all. He wanted to talk about all this shit.

He lifts his eyes back up to mine, and there’s no mistaking the regret in them. ‘It was time you knew.’

My eyes widen. ‘No, it was time for me to know a long time ago, Justin.’ I do a full three sixty turn, refreshing my eyes of where I am. It’s still all there, loud and proud – I’m not dreaming. ‘Fuck!’

‘Watch your mouth, Selena.’ he scorns me gently.

I swing back around to face him in shock. ‘Don’t you dare!’ I cry, slapping the heel of my hand against my forehead. ‘Fuck, f**k, f**k!’

‘Watch...’

‘Don’t!’ I pin him with a fierce glare. ‘Justin, don’t you dare tell me to watch my mouth!’ I gesture around the room. ‘Look!’

‘I see it, Selena.’ His voice is soft and placating, but it’s not going to calm me down. I’m too stunned.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Oh my God, he’s a glorified pimp.

‘I thought you would have grasped The Manors operations on our first meeting, Selena. When it became obvious that you hadn’t, it just got harder and harder to tell you.’

My head hurts. This is like a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle, each piece clicking into place, all so very slowly. I told him he had a lovely hotel. Oh, he must think I’m something else. He dropped enough hints with his specification and requirements, but because I was so distracted by him, I missed them all. He owns a sex club? This is f**king awful. And the sex? Oh God, the bloody sex. He really is sexpert extraordinaire, and it’s not because of previous relationships. He said himself that he didn’t have time for relationships. Now I know why.

‘I’m going to leave now, and you’re going to let me go.’ I say it with all the determination I feel. I really have been a play toy to him. I’m way past dense – I’m completely brainless.

He’s still frantically chewing his lip as I side step him, taking the stairs in a complete daze.

‘Selena, wait.’ he pleads, following me.

I’m swiftly reminded of the last time I was fleeing here. I should have kept running. I block out his voice, concentrating on getting myself to the entrance hall without breaking my leg in a fall. I pass the second floor bedrooms and mentally slap myself again.

‘Selena, baby, please.’

I reach the bottom of the stairs and fly around to face him. ‘Don’t even think about it!’ I shout at him. He recoils in shock. ‘You’ll let me leave.’

‘You’ve not even given me the chance to explain,’ His eyes are all wide and full of fear. It’s not an expression I’m use to from Justin. ‘Please, let me explain.’

‘Explain what? I’ve seen everything I need to see.’ I shout. ‘No explanation required! It all speaks loud and clear for itself.’

He steps towards me with his hands out. ‘You weren’t supposed to find out like this.’

I’m suddenly aware of an audience watching our little altercation. Sam, Drew and Kate are all standing at the bar entrance looking uncomfortable…pitiful, even. John looks grave as he assesses Justin, and Sarah looks as smug as can be. I know now that she must have picked up my message on Justin’s phone. She opened the gates and she opened the door. She’s got her way. She can have him.

I don’t recognise the snide, cocky looking man stood next to her, but he’s looking at me with an unfriendly glare. I watch him turn his eyes on Justin with a sneer. ‘What a f**k up you really are.’ he spits at Justin’s back, his tone full of hatred. Who the hell is he?

I watch as John grabs him by the scruff of the neck, shaking him a little. ‘You’re no longer a member, mother f**ker. I’ll be escorting you from the grounds.’

The cocky creature laughs a cold sinister laugh. ‘Be my guest. Looks like your tart has seen the light, Ward.’ he hisses. Justin’s eyes turn black in a nanosecond.

‘Shut the f**k up.’ John growls.

‘Revoked membership,’ I whisper. ‘He got too excited.’

He directs his cold eyes back at me. ‘He takes what he wants and leaves a trail of shit behind him,’ he snarls, his words punching all the air from my lungs. I notice Justin stiffen from head to toe. ‘He f**ks them all and f**ks them off.’

Turning my gaze back on Justin, I find his eyes are still black, his frown line a burden on his forehead. ‘Why?’ I ask. I don’t know why I’m asking this. It’s not going to make a jot of difference. But I feel I deserve some sort of explanation. He f**ks them all – once – and f**ks them off.

‘Don’t listen to him, Selena.’ Justin steps forward. I can see his jaw is tense to snapping point.

‘Ask him how my wife is.’ The nasty piece of work spits. ‘He did the same to her as he did to all the others. Husbands and conscience don’t get in his way.’

And that’s all it takes to tip Justin over the edge. He turns and flies at the man like a bullet, taking him clean from John’s grasp and to the parquet floor on a loud crash. Sam yanks Kate back and there are a few gasps, as everyone watches Justin kick ten tons of shit out of the man.

I’m not compelled to scream at him to stop, even though he looks like he could possibly kill him. I walk out of The Manor and get into my car. Kate flies down the steps, racing towards me. She jumps in but doesn’t say a word. When we reach the gates, they open without me stopping. I’m surprised – I was preparing to ram them down.

‘Sam,’ Kate says when I look at her. ‘He said we’re better off out of here.’

I hadn’t considered, until now, that all of this is news to Kate as well. She seems ever the laid back, take it in her stride, Kate.

I, however, feel like I’m freefalling into Hell.

Chapter 37

I walk through Kate’s front door and straight upstairs to the flat like a zombie.

Bless Kate. She makes no attempt to try and extract more information from me. Instead, she lets me fall onto the sofa in a tear stained heap and brings me a cup of tea.

My eyes widen when the front door slams. Kate runs out to the banister. ‘It’s just Sam.’ she reassures me as she comes back into the lounge.

‘He has a key?’ I ask. Kate shrugs it off, but this small snippet of news has me smiling to myself. Will she take it back in light of this new found knowledge?

My phone rings again and I reject the call…again.

Sam steams into the lounge, looking as nervous as he did at The Manor. We both look up at him as he does a little tennis spectator impression, flicking his eyes from me to Kate and back again a few times.

Stalking over to Kate, he all but hauls her out of the lounge by her elbow. ‘We need to talk.’ he says urgently. I crane my neck around, watching as he practically throws her into her bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

I lie on the sofa, my tea resting on my stomach, and close my eyes. They don’t stay shut for long. Mental images of Justin are imprinted on my brain, and with my eyes closed, there’s no other visual distraction, so they are all the more clearer. I’m never going to be able to sleep again. My phone starts again. Reaching down, I stab the reject button, staring up at the swirly artex ceiling of the lounge.

I’ve never felt pain like this before. It’s excruciating and way beyond fixable. He owns a f**king sex club? Why? Why couldn’t he be a banker or a financial advisor? Or…a hotel owner… I knew there was something wrong, something dangerous. Why didn’t I take a few moments to try and gather my senses? I know exactly why – because I wasn’t allowed to, I wasn’t given a chance to.

I sit up when I hear Kate’s high shrill travel across the landing, followed by Sam’s placating tones trying to calm her down. She flies out of her room with Sam in tow. He’s struggling to pull her back.

‘Get your f**king hands off me, Samuel. She needs to know.’

‘Wait a minute…Kate…arhhhhhh! What the f**k did you do that for?’ Kate retrieves her knee from Sam’s groin, leaving him in a folded, groaning mess on the landing, before barging into the lounge and punching me with her blue stare.

‘What?’ I ask, apprehensively. What do I need to know now?

She throws Sam a filthy look when he appears at the lounge door grasping his groin. I’m left wondering why Sam’s looking so apologetic when it’s Kate that’s just kneed him in the balls. She points at the chair aggressively, silently demanding him to sit. He limps over, lowering himself on a painful hiss.

‘Selena, he’s on his way over.’ she tells me calmly. I don’t know why she chooses this tone. It’s not going to calm me – not at all.

I gasp, looking at Sam sat in the chair, refusing to meet my eyes. He wasn’t going to tell me? I was stupid to think Justin would make this easy. ‘I need to leave,’ I wail as my damn phone starts again. ‘Fuck off!’ I shout at the stupid thing.

‘Take her.’ Kate swings around to Sam. ‘She’s in no state to drive.’

‘Oh no, not me,’ He holds his hands up, shaking his head. ‘It’s more than my life’s worth. Anyway, I need to talk to you.’ He jerks his head towards Kate.

We all jump at the sound of an almighty crash at the door, my heart promptly leaping into my throat as I look at Kate. Sam groans, and it’s not because of the pain Kate’s inflicted on him.

‘You dirty little turncoat.’ she mutters angrily, piercing Sam with her sharp, blue eyes.

‘Hey, I didn’t say a f**king word!’ He’s on the major defensive. ‘It wouldn’t take a f**king rocket scientist to work out where she is.’

‘Don’t answer it, Kate.’ I plead.

A combination of more bangs play out on the front door. God, I don’t want to see him. My defences are not strong enough right now. I jump at a succession of more bangs, followed by a chorus of car horns that sound off all around.

‘For f**ks sake,’ Kate yells, running across the room to look out of the window. ‘Shit.’ She pulls the blind up, getting up close and personal with the glass.

‘What?’ I join her at the window. I know it’s him, but what’s with the racket?

‘Look!’ she yells, pointing down below. I force my eyes to follow her hand and see Justin’s car abandoned in the middle of the street, his driver’s door wide open and a line of traffic starting to build up behind it. He’s not left enough room for cars to pass, causing tempers to flare and car horns to honk. It’s all clearly audible from up here.

‘Selena!’ I hear him bellow. He proceeds to thump the door a few more times.

‘Oh, f**king hell, Selena,’ Kate carps. ‘That man’s a walking, talking detonate button and you’ve just pressed it!’ She starts stalking out of the lounge.

I rush after her. ‘I pressed nothing, Kate. Don’t answer the door!’ I lean over the banister, watching Kate fly down the stairs to the front door.

‘I can’t just leave him out there causing anarchy on the street.’ She carries on her way.

I panic and run back into the lounge, passing Sam, who’s still sat in the chair rubbing his sore spot, mumbling inaudible words.

‘Why didn’t you tell Kate?’ I ask him sharply on my way back to the window.

‘I’m sorry, Selena.’

‘You need to be apologising to Kate, not me.’ I turn back, finding no trace of the fun loving, cheeky chap that I’ve become so fond of. Instead, there’s a tense, uneasy, timid man.

‘I have apologised. And I couldn’t very well tell her until Justin told you. You should know, this has been eating away at him since he met you.’

I laugh at Sam’s attempt to defend his friend and look out of the window again. Justin is still pacing outside, clearly desperate, smashing the buttons of his mobile. I know who he’s calling. And, like I knew it would, my phone starts shouting in my hand. Should I answer it and tell him to go away? I stare down onto the street, panic flooding me when a driver from one of the held up cars gets out. Oh God, don’t challenge him!

Kate walks out, waving her arms at Justin. He ignores the driver that’s approached, turning to Kate instead. His hand gestures are urgent. What’s he saying? What’s Kate saying? After a few minutes, Justin gets in his car. Relief washes over my entire being, but he only moves it slightly so it’s parked in a more considerate fashion, allowing the other motorists to pass.

‘Oh God, Kate! What have you done?’ I yell at the window.

‘What’s going on?’ Sam asks from his chair. I don’t answer him.

I stand, unable to move, watching as Justin leans up against my car, his head dropped in defeat, his arms hanging by his sides. Kate’s arms are wrapped around herself as she stands in front of him. He looks up at her, and even from here I can see the anguish riddling his face. She reaches over to him, rubbing her palm up and down his arm. It’s a gesture of comfort. It’s killing me.

After an eternity of watching them on the street, Kate finally turns, making her way back to the flat, but to my utter horror, Justin starts to follow, and Kate makes no attempt to stop him.

‘Shit, no!’ I exclaim, throwing my hands to my head in dread. What’s she thinking?

‘What?’ Sam shouts anxiously. ‘Selena, what?’

I quickly consider my options. It doesn’t take long because there are none, except to stand here and await the confrontation. There is only one way in and one way out of this flat. And with Justin on his way in, any plans to escape the inevitable altercation are totally floored.

Kate walks into the lounge, looking rather sheepish. I’m furious with her, and she knows it. I pin her with my most filthy stare as she smiles at me nervously.

‘Just hear him out, Selena. The man’s a mess.’ She shakes her head sorrowfully, then looks at Sam, her expression changing instantly. ‘You, get in the kitchen!’

Sam scowls. ‘I can’t f**king move, you evil cow!’ He rubs himself again, rolling his head back on the chair. Kate huffs and pulls him out of the chair. He groans, closing his eyes and gingerly limping from the room.

I can’t believe her. The treacherous cow! She backs out of the room, giving me eyes full of sympathy. She wouldn’t have to act so f**king sorry if she hadn’t of let him in – the stupid, stupid woman. I turn to face the window before he walks in. I can’t look at him. I’ll dissolve into tears if I do, and I don’t want him to have any excuse to comfort me or wrap his big warm arms around me. I brace myself for his voice to wash over me, every frazzled nerve ending buzzing and every muscle tense. I hear nothing. But as every hair on the back of my neck tingles, standing upright, I know he’s near. My body’s response to his potent presence has me closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and praying for strength.

‘Please, look at me, Selena.’ His voice is quivering, full of emotion. I swallow the tennis ball sized lump in my throat, fighting back a barrage of tears that are pooling in my eyes. ‘Selena, please.’ I feel his hand brush down the back of my arm. I flinch at the contact.

‘Please, don’t touch me.’ I find the courage I need to turn round and face him.

His head is dropped, his shoulders sagged. He looks pitiful, but I mustn’t be swayed by his sorrowful state. I’ve been influenced too many times by manipulation, and this...this is just another form of manipulation…Justin style. I’ve been so blinded with lust, I haven’t been seeing straight. His glazed eyes pull themselves from the floor to meet mine.

‘Why did you even take me there?’ I ask.

‘Because I want you with me all of the time, I can’t be away from you.’

‘Well, you’d better get use to it because I don’t want to see you again.’ My voice is calm and controlled, but the pain that slices through my heart in response to my own words is enough to floor me on the spot.

His eyes swim, searching mine. ‘You don’t mean that. I know you don’t mean that.’

‘I mean it.’

His chest is expanding on each deep inhale, his hair in disarray and his frown line a crater across his forehead. The distress splashed across his face is like an ice spear through my heart. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’ he murmurs.

‘Well, you have. You’ve trampled into my life and trampled all over my heart. I tried to walk away. I knew there was more than meets the eye. Why didn’t you let me walk away?’ My voice starts to trail off as the gravel in my throat starts to win the battle and tears start to pinch at my eyes. Damn me, I should have listened to my instincts.

He starts chewing his bottom lip. ‘You never really wanted to walk away.’ His voice is barely audible.

‘Yes, I did!’ I blurt on a sniffle. ‘I fought you off. I knew I was heading for trouble, but you were relentless. What happened? Did you run out of married women to f**k?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, I found you.’ He steps forward, and I remove myself from his reach.

‘Get out.’ I say calmly, my body shaking, my breathing hitching – all evidence that I’m far from calm. I barge past him, knocking his shoulder.

‘I can’t. I need you, Selena.’ His pleading voice is going to haunt me for the rest of my days.

I swing around violently. ‘You don’t need me!’ I fight to keep my voice solid. ‘You want me. Oh God, you are a dominant, aren’t you?’ Flashes of all our sexual encounters pass through my mind at a hundred miles an hour. He’s truly fierce in the bedroom and pretty fierce outside it too.

‘No!’

‘Why the control issue then? And the dominance and commands?’

‘The sex is just sex. I can’t get close enough to you. The control is because I’m frightened to death that something will happen to you…that you’ll be taken away from me. I’ve waited too long for you, Selena. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. I’ve lived a life with little control or care. Believe me, I need you…please...please don’t leave me,’ He walks towards me, but I step back, fighting the instinct to let him swathe me. He stops. ‘I’ll never recover.’

What? No! I can’t believe he’s being so cruel as to use emotional blackmail. ‘Do you think this is going to be any easier for me?’ I scream, the tears starting to flow rapidly.

The little colour that was left in his face drains out before my eyes. He drops his head. He has no come back to that. What can he say? He knows what he’s done to me. He’s made me need him.

‘If I could change how I’ve handled things, I would.’ he whispers.

‘But you can’t. The damage is done.’ My tone oozes contempt.

He looks up at me. ‘The damage will be worse if you leave me.’

Oh God. ‘Get out!’

‘No,’ He shakes his head frantically, taking a step towards me. ‘Selena, please, I’m begging you.’

I move away from him, mustering up my most determined expression, swallowing constantly to keep the lump in my throat at bay. This is so incredibly painful. This is exactly why I couldn’t see him. I’m so angry with him, but seeing him so whitewashed is heart-breaking. I have to keep reminding myself that he’s let me down in the cruellest way. He’s misled me, deceived me and, essentially, bullied me into bed with him.

You let me fall in love with you!

He stares at me, the pain in his sludgy eyes immeasurable. I’ll cave if I don’t look away –so I do. I drop my gaze to the floor and silently beg him to leave before I fall apart and welcome the comfort he always gives me.

‘Selena, look at me.’

I take a deep breath, turning my eyes to his. ‘Goodbye, Justin.’

‘Please.’ he mouths.

‘I said, goodbye.’ The words carry an air of finality that I really do not mean.

He searches my face for such a long time, but eventually, he abandons trying to find any scrap of hope in my eyes, he turns, and he silently leaves.

I provide my lungs with the desperate rush of breath they need, walking on my unstable legs to the window. The front door slams, vibrating through the house, and Justin appears, dragging himself to his semi-abandoned car. I flinch, letting out a sob as he smashes his fist through the window of his car, sending shards of glass spraying all over the road. He throws himself in and repeatedly punches the steering wheel. After what seems like years of watching him pound on his car, he roars off, tyres screeching, car horns blaring.

***

I get out of the shower and dry my hair before resuming fetal position on my bed. I’m completely numb. I feel like my heart has been ripped out, trampled on and shoved back into my chest a battered mess. I’m somewhere between grief and devastation, and it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. My life has fallen apart. I feel empty, betrayed, lonely and lost. The only person that can make any of this better is the person that’s made it all happen. I don’t feel like I’m ever going to recover from this.

‘Selena?’ I lift my pounding head from my pillow, finding Kate stood in my doorway. The sympathy on her face enflames the hurt a little bit more. She perches on the edge of the bed, stroking my cheek. ‘It doesn’t have to be like this.’ she says softly.

How so? How can it be any other way? I just have to ride out this pain and see if I have the strength to deal with any of it. Start all over again. But at the moment, I’m content just lying here feeling sorry for myself.

‘Yes, it does.’ I reply on a whisper.

‘No, it doesn’t.’ She’s firmer this time. ‘You still love him. Admit you still love him. Did you tell him?’

I can’t deny it. I do. I love him – so much it hurts. But I shouldn’t love him. I know I shouldn’t. ‘I can’t.’ I turn my face into my pillow.

‘Why?’

‘He owns a sex club, Kate.’

‘He didn’t know how to tell you. He was worried you would walk away.’

I look at Kate. ‘Well, he didn’t tell me, and I’ve still walked away.’ I settle back down into my tear drenched pillow. ‘You heard that man. He destroys marriages. He screws women for fun.’ Why is she being so defensive? ‘Why are you not shocked?’ I mutter into my pillow. I know she’s laid back, but this is shocking stuff.

‘I am…a bit.’

‘You could’ve fooled me.’

‘Selena, Justin hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since he met you. The man is crazy about you. Sam never thought he’d see the day.’

‘Sam can say what he likes, Kate. It doesn’t change the fact that he owns a place where people go to have sex and he sometime joins in.’ I shudder, feeling sick at the thought. Crazy about me? That’s total crap.

‘You can’t punish him because of his past.’

‘It’s not his past, though, is it? He still owns the place.’

‘It’s his business.’

‘Oh, leave me alone, Kate.’ I spit. Her defending all of this is just pissing me off. She should be supporting me, not trying to justify Justin’s misdemeanours.

I feel her weight lift from the bed on a sigh. ‘He’s still Justin.’ she says as she leaves my bedroom, and me alone to mourn my loss.

I lay in silence trying to rid my head of all the inevitable thoughts. It’s no good. My brain is assaulted by flashbacks of the last few weeks. Of our first meeting when he floored me, the texts and the calls and then the stalking…and the sex. I flip myself onto my stomach, sinking my face into my pillow.

Kate’s words keep pin-balling around in my mind “he’s still Justin”. Do I even know who Justin is? All I know is a man who swept me up in his intensity and blindsided me with his physical being.

Another piece of the puzzle falls into place when I recall him telling me that he has no contact with his parents. They disowned him when his uncle died and Justin refused to sell The Manor. It makes sense now. It had nothing to do with the inheritance or sharing the estate, and all to do with their twenty one year old son being left to run a super posh sex club. Of course they would be concerned, and probably highly pissed. Their disapproval of Justin’s relationship with Carmichael is absolutely warranted. Christ, did Carmichael encourage Justin to pursue that lifestyle? Justin even said he was having the time of his life. What young man wouldn’t be in a house where anything goes? He really has had lots of practice. And there’s a distinct possibility that he really has never f**ked a woman more than once – apart from me.

It doesn’t take Einstein to figure out why I was being chucked the evils by all of those women when I was at The Manor. They all want him. No, they all want him again.

He played it risky by taking me there, but when I think carefully, no one ever approached me – I was never alone, never free to roam. Did everyone know I was oblivious? Were they under instruction to keep quiet, to stay away? I must be a complete laughing stock. He really did go out of his way to keep me in the dark. How did he think he could get away with it? Sarah’s comment on leathers...I push my face into the pillow in complete despair.

‘Selena?’

I look up and see Sam stood in the doorway, looking as deflated as he was earlier. ‘He beat himself up on a daily basis trying to think of how he could tell you. I’ve never seen him like this before.’

‘You mean rejected?’ I say sarcastically. ‘No, I can’t imagine Justin Ward did get many knock backs.’

‘No, I mean crazy about a woman.’

‘Oh, he’s crazy all right.’ I laugh.

Sam frowns, shaking his head. ‘Yes, crazy about you.’

‘No, Sam. Justin is crazy about controlling and manipulating me.’

‘Do you mind?’ he asks, standing at the edge of my bed.

‘Help yourself.’ I grumble uncharitably.

He perches on the edge of the bed. I’ve never seen him so serious. ‘Selena, I’ve known Justin for eight years. Not once have I seen him behave like this over a woman. He’s never had a relationship beyond sex, but you came along and it’s like he found purpose. He’s a different man, and while you might have been frustrated over his protectiveness, as a friend, I was happy to see him finally care so much to behave like that. Please, give him a chance.’

‘He wasn’t just protective, Sam.’ I say tiredly. Protectiveness is just the start of a long list of unreasonable ways.

‘He’s still Justin.’ Sam repeats Kate’s words, looking at me pleadingly. ‘The Manor is a business. Yes, he mixed business with pleasure, but he had nothing else. It all changed when you fell into his life.’

‘I can’t wrap my head around all of this, Sam.’

He smiles, picking my hand up in his. ‘If you can tell me that you can walk away from him, no second thoughts or regrets, then I’ll shut up now and leave. If you can tell me that you don’t love him, I’ll walk away. But I don’t think you can. You’re shocked, I realise that. And yes, he has a history, but you can’t ignore the fact that he adores you, Selena. It’s written all over his face, expressed in everything he does. Please, give him a chance. He deserves a chance.’

Sam’s pleading speech on behalf of his friend sounds like it’s been well prepared and rehearsed. Maybe it has. They must have known I’d find out eventually. Can I get past this shit? I know I’m not doing myself any favours laying here, kicking my sorry arse around in circles. I’m trying to deal with something I just don’t understand and probably never will. He owns a sex club. This crap doesn’t feature into my idea of a normal, happy ever after. Could I ever trust him? He cares enough to behave like this? He adores me? Does adore equal love? I ignored all of Justin’s pillow talk in the beginning. All of the “you’re mine” crap and his declaration of never letting me leave rubbish. He said the word love a lot, but not in the context I so desperately wanted to hear. “I love you in lace”, “I love sleepy sex with you”, “I love having you here”. Should I have looked further into all of it? Was he telling me what I wanted to hear but in a backwards way? He persistently sought reassurance from me that I would stay. If all he needed was comfort that I was staying put, then I did that plenty of times, didn’t I? I always told him I would stay. But I didn’t know about The Manor then. And now I do, and I’ve left.

He always wanted me in lace, not leather. He claimed me as his. He was possessive to the absolute maximum – unreasonably so. He always wanted to keep me covered, never wanting me to be exposed to anyone but him. Leather, sharing and the exposure of female flesh must be a regular occurrence at The Manor, surely. Was he was trying to make me the complete opposite of everything he knows? Everything he’s use to? But what about the sex?

I sit up. I need to talk to him. I can get over The Manor, I think. But I know, for absolutely sure, I’ll never get over Justin. This is an easy decision really. Seeing him so fraught and desperate must at least mean he’s hurting, surely? He wouldn’t behave like that if I didn’t mean something to him, would he? So many questions…

I look at Sam. A small smile spreads across his cheeky face. ‘My work here is done.’ he mimics Justin’s words as he gets up on a little wince. ‘That evil cow, she’ll be moaning when I can’t perform.’

I smile on the inside. This bombshell, obviously, hasn’t affected Kate in the same way it has me. I throw on the nearest clothes I can find – which happen to be ripped jeans and a Jimmy Hendrix t-shirt – and grab my car keys. Tears flood my eyes and guilt punches a great hole in the stomach. I’ve made a monumental f**k up. He was the one who wanted the cards on the table. He was going to tell me about The Manor, but was there something else he wanted to tell me? I hope so, because I’m on my way to find out. Sarah’s warning about building dreams on Justin comes crashing back into my mind as I race down to my car. Maybe, she’s right, but I can’t live not knowing.

Chapter 38

I drive to Lusso in a stupid fashion, overtaking, banging my car horn impatiently and running a few red lights. When I pull up at the docks, I see Justin’s car parked on an angle, spanning two of his allocated spaces. I abandon my Mini on the road, let myself in the pedestrian gate – thanking all that’s holy I remember the code – and rush into the foyer, finding Clive at the concierge desk. He’s looking more cheerful than usual.

‘Selena! I’ve finally got the hang of all this ruddy equipment.’ he declares delightedly.

I brace myself on the high, marble counter to catch my breath. ‘Great, Clive. I told you it would come.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine. I’m just going up to Justin.’

The phone on the desk starts ringing, and Clive holds his finger up in a signal for me to excuse him for a second. ‘Mr Holland? Yes Sir, of course, Sir.’ He hangs up, scribbling a few notes on his pad. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘That’s okay. I’ll make my way up.’

‘Ah, Selena, Mr Ward hasn’t notified me of your visit.’ He scans his screen.

I gape at him. Is he having me on? He’s seen Justin carry me in and out of this place on numerous occasions. What’s he playing at? I smile sweetly. ‘How are you finding the job, Clive?’

He immediately becomes willing and animated. ‘Well, I’m basically a personal assistant to thirteen filthy rich residents, but I love it. You should hear some of the requests I get. Yesterday, Mr Daniels asked me to organise a chopper ride over the city for his daughter and three friends and…’ He leans over the counter, lowering his voice. ‘Mr Gomez up on fifth, he has a different woman every day of the week. And Mr Holland seems to have a thing for the Thai birds. But keep that to yourself. It’s all confidential.’ He winks, and I wonder what Justin has had him do or arrange. Organise for his smashed car window to be fixed would be a start.

‘Wow, it sounds very interesting. I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Clive.’ I broaden my smile at him. ‘Do you mind if I head up?’

‘I need to call first, Selena.’

‘Call then!’ I huff impatiently, standing and shifting irritably, while Clive rings up to the penthouse.

He hangs up and dials again. ‘I’m sure I saw him pass through.’ he mutters on a frown. ‘Maybe, I didn’t.’

‘His car’s outside, he must be here,’ I push frantically. ‘Try again.’ I point to the telephone. Clive presses a few buttons again as I look on.

He hangs up again, shaking his head. ‘No, he’s definitely not there. And he hasn’t put a DND on his system, so he’s not asleep or busy. He must have gone out.’

I frown. ‘DND?’

‘Do not disturb.’

‘Oh. Clive, I know he’s home. Please, can I go up?’ I plead. I can’t believe he’s being so difficult.

He leans over his desk, narrows his eyes on me and looks to either side, checking the coast is clear. ‘I can get in serious trouble for not following protocol, but as it’s you, Selena,’ He winks. ‘Go on.’ He thumbs over his shoulder and straightens his green hat.

‘Thanks, Clive.’

I jump in the elevator, punch in the code and pray he hasn’t got around to re-programming it in the short time I’ve been gone. I let out a relieved breath of air when the doors close and I start my journey to the penthouse. He’s got to answer the door yet – I don’t have a key.

My stomach does a few three sixties as the elevator door slides open and I’m faced with the double doors into Justin’s apartment. I frown to myself. The door’s open and there’s music – very loud music.

I walk to the door, gently pushing it open, my ears instantly bombarded from every direction by an extremely powerful and poignant, but equally sad track. I recognise it instantly – Angel. The words hit me like a thunderbolt, immediately putting me on guard. Right now, it sounds so loud and depressing, not soft and ardent like it was when we made love. I need to find a remote control so I can turn it down, or off. It’s so affecting. And with it coming from all of the integrated speakers, there’s no escaping it. Maybe he’s not here. Maybe the system has malfunctioned because he couldn’t possibly sustain this noise level for long. But the door was wide open. I clamp my hands over my ears as I glance around the huge space trying to locate a remote control. Running into the kitchen, I spot one on the island and quickly find the volume button to turn the music down – a lot.

Once I’ve taken care of the noise levels, I go in search of him, making my way through the open plan area. As I reach the stairs, I kick something and watch as it clatters across the floor. I pick up the glass bottle and place it on the console unit at the bottom of the stairs before taking them two at a time.

I go straight to the master suite, but he’s not in there. I proceed to frantically search every other room on the floor. He’s in none of them. Where is he? I get half way down the stairs, stopping abruptly when my eyes land on the empty bottle that I scooped up.

It’s vodka. Well, it was. It’s been drained dry.

A wave of uneasiness rolls over me as a million thoughts invade my head. I’ve never seen Justin drink – not ever. Every time alcohol has been on offer, he’s refused, ordering water instead. It never occurred to me to wonder why. Have I ever seen him drink? No, I don’t think I have. Now, looking at the empty bottle of vodka placed carefully on the table and thinking about how carelessly it was tossed on the floor, something isn’t right.

‘Oh, please no.’ I whisper to myself.

His insistence on me not drinking on Friday comes rushing back into my mind like a tidal wave. Our little altercation in The Blue Bar, when he tried to force feed me some water, suddenly doesn’t seem so unusual or unreasonable.

I hear a crash, my eyes snapping from the empty bottle of vodka to the outside terrace. The huge glass doors are open. I sprint the rest of the way down the stairs, across the living space, skidding to a halt at the doors when I see Justin struggling to get himself up from one of the sun loungers. Have I had my eyes closed for the past few weeks? I’ve missed so much.

He has a towel wrapped around his waist and a bottle of vodka in his hand, which he’s keeping a tight hold of as he fights to push himself up on his free arm. He’s swearing profusely.

I’m froze on the spot as I watch this man that I’ve fallen in love with, a physically powerful, passionate and captivating man, reduced to a drunken wreck. How did this slip past me? I’ve not even wrapped my head around all of the other shit that’s been landed on me today. And now this on top of everything else? What have I done to deserve this?

Once he’s hauled himself up, he turns to face me, his eyes hollow, his face washed out. It doesn’t look like him.

‘You’re too late, lady.’ he slurs viciously, glaring at me. He’s never looked at me like this before. He’s never spoken to me like this before. Not even when he’s been crazy mad with me. What’s happened to him?

‘You’re drunk.’ I blurt. What a stupid thing to say, but all other words have run, screaming very loudly, from my brain. My eyes have been tortured way past repair today.

‘That’s very observant of you.’ He lifts the bottle and swigs the rest of the vodka before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Not drunk enough, though.’ He walks forward purposely, and I instinctively move out of his way, knowing he would cause me damage if he crashed into me.

‘Where are you going?’ I ask as he passes me.

‘What’s it to you?’ he spits, without so much as looking at me. I follow him into the kitchen, watching as he drags another bottle of vodka from the freezer and tosses his empty into the sink. He starts unscrewing the cap. ‘Bastard!’ he hisses, shaking his hand. It’s then that I notice the mass of swelling and cuts marring it. He perseveres with the screw cap, eventually removing it before knocking back a huge swig.

‘Justin, your hand needs looking at.’

He throws his hand up in front of him, taking another mouthful from the bottle. ‘Look then. Yet more damage you’ve caused.’ he snarls. I’ve caused? What’s he trying to say? That on top of everything else, I’ve pushed him over the edge to drink? ‘Yeah, you can stand there…stand there looking all bewildered…and…and…confused. I f**king told you!’ he shouts. ‘Didn’t I warn you? I…I warned you!’ He’s hysterical.

‘Warned me about what?’ I ask quietly, but I know what he’s going to say. This is the further damage I would cause if I left. This is what he won’t recover from. Things were more bearable with me around because he wasn’t drinking. Why?

He throws back more vodka. I try and mentally calculate how much he’s had. This is the third bottle I’ve seen, but what about the ones I haven’t? Can anyone drink that much?

‘Fucking typical.’ he shouts at the ceiling.

‘I didn’t know.’ I whisper.

He laughs. ‘You didn’t know?’ He points the bottle at me. ‘I said you would cause more damage if you left me, but you still left anyway. Now look at the f**king state of me.’

I flinch at his words. I feel like crying. Seeing him in this state makes me want to cry hard, but shock is controlling the tears. This is not the Justin I know. This man is a stranger – a hurtful, cruel and merciless man, who I don’t love at all. I don’t need this man.

He starts pacing towards me. I back away. I don’t want to be anywhere near him. ‘That’s it, run away.’ He continues stalking forward, gaining on me with every step. ‘You’re a f**king prick tease, Selena. I can have you, then I can’t, then I can again. Make your f**king mind up!’

‘Why didn’t you tell me you’re an alcoholic?’ I ask as my back hits the wall. There’s no more retreating space. Why didn’t you tell me everything?

‘And give you another reason not to want me?’ he spits. He then seems to consider something. ‘I’m not an alcoholic!’

Denial! Just how bad is this? I’ve never seen him drunk before.

He’s on top of me, looking down at me. This close up, his eyes are even more hollow and dark.

‘You need help.’ I say on a cracking voice. I’m going to need help too.

‘I needed you and…you…you left me.’ His breath is hot, but it’s not his usual minty smell. All I can smell are alcohol fumes, so whoever claims you can’t smell vodka is lying.

I plant my palms on his bare chest to push him away, applying only a little pressure for fear I might push him over. It’s laughable. This tall, lean, strapping man, but he’s so unstable on his feet. His chest feels like him – that I recognise, but it’s the only part of him that I do at the moment.

He takes a step back, tipping the bottle to his lips again. I want to grab it and smash it on the floor. ‘Sorry, am I invading your space?’ He laughs. ‘It’s never bothered you before.’

‘You weren’t drunk before.’ I retort.

‘No…I wasn’t. I was too busy f**king you to think about having a drink,’ He looks at me with disgust, leaning forward. ‘I was too busy f**king you to think about anything. And you loved it.’ He smirks. ‘You were good. In fact, you were the best I’ve had. And I’ve had a lot.’

Rage flies through me like a rocket. So fast, I don’t even notice that my hand has flown out and slapped him clean across his face – not until the sting sets in and it starts throbbing. Fuck, that hurt!

He holds his face to the side, where my vicious hand has put it, before slowly turning it back to me. He laughs mildly. ‘Fun, wasn’t it?’

I look at him in complete contempt, shaking my head. I feel like I’m being dragged through a madcap movie. This sort of shit just doesn’t happen, especially not to me. Sex houses, crazy madness and alcoholic arseholes. How did I get caught up in all of this freakiness?

‘You’re one f**ked up sorry state.’

‘Watch your mouth.’ he slurs.

‘You don’t get to tell me what I can say!’ I shout. ‘You don’t get to tell how to do anything. Not anymore!’

‘I’m.a.fucked.up.sorry.state.and.it’s.all.because.of.you.’ He punctuates each and every word on a slur, jabbing his finger in my face. I fear I might actually punch him in his drunken face if I don’t leave now. But all of my stuff is here, and I need to get it. I don’t want to ever come back.

I brush past him, hurrying for the stairs. With any luck, he’s too drunk to climb them, and I can snatch my things up without any further vicious exchanges. I take the stairs fast, barreling into the bedroom and standing for a few moments wondering where he would’ve put my bag.

Finding my overnight case tucked neatly behind some shoe boxes in the wardrobe, I yank it free, pulling down my clothes from the hangers and scooping up my things from the floor at the same time. I rush back into the bedroom, finding Justin stood in the doorway. It’s taken him a lot longer than usual, but he’s made it up the stairs. I ignore him and run into the bathroom, all but flinging my toiletries into my bag without checking they’re sealed. I’ll probably have a pile of clothes caked in shampoo by the time I get out of here, but I couldn’t care less. I need out, and I need out quickly.

‘Does this bring back memories, Selena?’

I look up, finding him stroking the top of the vanity unit, his face straight as he caresses the marble counter. I try to blank out our launch night encounter. In this very suite was where I finally surrendered to this man. In this bathroom was where we made love for the first time. No, we f**ked for the first time. And now it all ends here too.

He’s blocking my path with his tall, swaying body. I notice the bottle of vodka has been abandoned, his towel working its way loose. I try to side step him, but he moves with me, hampering my attempts to pass.

‘You’re really going?’ he slurs softly.

‘You think I would stay?’ I ask exasperated. After everything that’s transpired today? I’d thought I could overcome The Manor and all the crap that accompanies it, but this on top of all that has just catapulted my already crumbled world into complete obliteration. No amount of love or feelings could ever fix this mess. He’s led me on a merry dance. He’s purposely deceived me and manipulated me.

‘So, that’s it? You’ve turned my life upside down, caused all this damage, and now you’re leaving without fixing it?’

I look up at him in shock. Does he think that he’s the only one affected by all of this? I’ve turned his world upside down? Even in a paralytic state, the man is delusional.

‘Goodbye, Justin.’ I push past him, heading straight for the stairs, fighting the urge to look back. The devastating man I fell I love with, the man that I thought would be engraved on my mind’s eye for the rest of my life, has been cruelly replaced by that nasty, drunken creature.

‘I wanted to tell you, but you had to be your usual difficult self!’ he roars at my back. ‘How can you walk away?’ I flinch at his harshness but keep going. ‘Selena, baby, please!’

Half way down the stairs, I hear a loud clatter and a collection of bangs and crashes. This just makes me run faster. Any dream of falling into his strong, loving arms has been sensationally dashed. My happy ever after with my lovable rogue has been chewed up and spat out. I could have tumbled into a relationship with Justin without a clue about his dark secrets. When would I have eventually found out?

I should be thankful. At least I know now, before it’s too late.

Before it’s too late?

It’s way past too late.

I approach Kate’s door in a numb haze and it swings open before I have a chance to put my key in the lock.

She looks at me, confusion clear on her face. ‘What’s happened?’ she asks, her eyes all wide and concerned. Sam appears behind her. One look at his face tells me he knows exactly what’s just happened.

Every aching muscle gives way, including my heart, and I collapse to the floor in a heap, sobbing uncontrollably. I’m vaguely aware of arms wrapped around me, rocking me back and forth. But they don’t comfort me.

They’re not Justin’s.