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caesium-55 · 25 days

Text

—everything is orange. [ i ]

pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader

summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.

author's note: i wont take tags for this im sorry 😭 also, i changed the faceclaim

masterlist.

The room is dimly lit. You didn't like dim lighting. It reminds you of your childhood bedroom. A barely functioning lightbulb hanging on the ceiling, your mother never bothering to change it. You were too short to change it yourself. You asked your neighbor once to do it for you but he had asked for a night with you in exchange so you kicked him out of the house before he could change the light bulb. You chose to study under the sucky light which became the reason behind your poor eyesight today.

You sit on a chair across Atty. Kim Jin Hwang, HAN entertainment's legal representative and one of the best lawyers Seoul has to offer, with a table dividing the two of you. He’s a man in his fifties, quite close to the age of retirement. He’s a veteran and despite his age, his mind is still sharp.

You refrain yourself from tapping your foot against the floor anxiously. Anxiety does not look good on you and you refuse to show people that you're anxious. Anxiety is weakness so you keep your posture straight and make sure to keep eye contact with Atty. Kim. If you look away first, you're a coward.

“Tell me honestly. Is this you in the pictures?” Atty. Kim Jin Hwang points at the pictures sprawled across the table. They’re blurry and grainy and incredibly zoomed in. You can't even tell it was you from some angles. You look quite different from the person that you were when you were sixteen. HAN Entertainment is particularly fond of investing in their idol’s plastic surgeries and while they only fixed your crooked teeth, removed the hump on your nose bridge, altered your uneven ears, bleached your skin, and plucked your brows—which are quite minor changes—you still hold very little resemblance to the teenage you.

You grew up well. Thankfully, you inherited only the best parts of your parents. Or at least, the best parts of your Mom. You have no idea what your father looked like, only knowing that he was from Brazil or some country in South America.

“Yes,” you answer immediately, not bothering to lie. What is the point of lying anyway? People have been calling you all sorts of malicious names across different social media platforms and you’re sure Atty. Kim has seen some of them. There’s no point lying to his face and saving your image anymore. Might as well admit that you are exactly the kind of person they’ve been yapping about. An illegal driver. A criminal.

“Why did you do it?” Atty. Kim asks and truthfully, you did not expect the question. You expected the what and how and where and when but never the why question. You fall into a thoughtful pause.

“I was sixteen,” you shrug your shoulders, almost uncaringly so. “I wanted to leave home as early as I could and to do that, I needed money. Nobody wanted to accept student part-timers and I tried doing stuff like tutoring and doing other people’s assignments but it wasn't enough. I have a friend who joins street races. He’s not a good driver but he’s got a good car. He really wants to win so he cheated and let me drive his car on the condition that if I win, he’ll split me the winner’s money. I did it. I won races in that car, acting as if he was the one driving it.”

Atty. Kim gives you a long look. You don’t know what it means.

“Alright,” Atty. Kimlifts his chin and rises from his chair. “That concludes our meeting. In the meantime, you lay low. We’ll handle everything.”

You nod, “Okay.”

True to Atty. Kim’s words, HAN entertainment handled everything. They released a statement that you watched one race because you were sixteen and clueless and didn't know you were getting yourself involved in an illegal activity. It helped that you drove under a different name so people were easily convinced of this lie. You knew your friend—the owner of the car— wouldn't even reveal that it was you who’d driven the car. His ego would be bruised once the people discovered that he cheated on the street races and a sixteen-year-old girl with no license and no personal car outperformed him.

Additionally, HAN announced that you were to depart your group—ORACLE—which absolutely destroyed you because ORACLE had been the place where you felt like you belonged. ORACLE had been your goal. You worked yourself to the bone to the point of collapse because you wanted to be in ORACLE and wanted to remain in ORACLE.

Nevertheless, you accepted your fate easily. There was no point destroying the other members because of your fault alone.

Your members cried for a whole week after the announcement was made public through HAN Entertainment’s official social media platforms and you spent every single day you could still spend inside the dorm reassuring them, telling them that you’d still be there for them, that you’d be standing behind them in each step to their success. You loved your girls so much. You wouldn't even choose to leave them. If only fate was a bit kinder to you. If only life was less brutal.

Furthermore, HAN made you publish a handwritten apology letter. You couldn't remember what you wrote anymore but you did remember how heavy the pen felt, how your hands trembled as you wrote each sentence, how writing the damn letter took three hours because you kept breaking down midway. They announced your hiatus promptly after. They used the term indefinite hiatus but it might as well be retirement.

You can't believe that you suffered through sixteen years under the same roof as your incredibly abusive mother, left home with only a backpack and a paper bag of cash just as you hit eighteen years old, worked your way in the harsh world by juggling three part-time jobs and a scholarship-shouldered university education until a scout noticed you, undergone the rigorous and borderline suicidal training of a KPop idol to-be, and sacrificed everything you had—mental stability, blood, sweat, and tears—just so you could pass every monthly evaluation and become your company’s darling, only to have everything disappear because someone found pictures of you predebut in an illegal street racing event. Fuck.

You were fucking sixteen at that time! You didn't know any better. You only wanted money. You didn't have a license. Getting one is too expensive. You borrowed a car from a friend. It's an unregistered car. You drove the car. You won races. You stopped when you turned eighteen. That was it.

Knetz decided to crucify you for a sin born out of your desperation when you were sixteen. When a dog was hungry, it ate whatever was thrown its way, uncaring if the food thrown at it was good or not because its primary instinct was only to cure its hunger. It was not as if you sexually assaulted someone. It was not as if you bullied someone and involved yourself in school violence. It was not as if you drank alcohol and drove or even involved yourself in gambling. Sure, street racing was illegal but you never even hurt someone! You never even crashed into someone mid-race.

You’re sure you’re going to leave the company and you won't fight their decision if they want you to do so. People spit out their gum when they lose their flavor. That's also what the industry did. You saw it happen too many times to too many idols. They collect pretty faces, push them to their limits until they could be loved by the public and once the public decides they’re not worth loving anymore, they’d spit them out. You are a gum in this story.

You feel like you’re eighteen again. You want to run away from home all over again. You ran away from the house you were born in once and now, you’re going to run away from the house you worked hard to live in. You want to pack your bags and board the next plane to another country even before the light of the rising sun touches the ground. That gnawing feeling of not belonging to a place that’s supposed to be home kept tormenting the cracks of your heart and the only way to seemingly get rid of it albeit only temporarily is to pick up on your feet and run away, never to leave anything behind you. Not ghosts, not traces, not memories—nothing.

But HAN entertainment won't let you. Yoon PD-nim knocked on your door, a contract in hand. He offered you an apartment to live in, a salary, a place in the company, and told you to keep creating songs. HAN Entertainment knew your talent in song making and producing was partly behind the success of ORACLE, their rising girl group. You were too useful to get rid of easily.

And like that, you spent the last two years making music for every kpop group under HAN Entertainment. You mostly made B-sides for the junior girl groups, AURORA and PRIZMA, and the title tracks for boy groups, HIRA and 1THEBOY. You worked for soloist, Ciel, once for his last comeback before his mandatory military service and worked on half a mini-album’s worth of songs for ORACLE every comeback. Thankfully, the songs gained positive feedback from the general public. That was your ticket to keep staying in HAN entertainment as a ghost producer and ghost song-writer.

Two years. You rotted in your apartment and the studio. This felt no different than the time you lived under your parents’ roof. You felt like a ghost, present but also not quite there. It's quite fitting, you think. You're a ghost producer and a ghost song-writer.

This was not a life worth living but you’d rather a life not worth living than have nothing at all.

You empty your fifth cup of coffee for the day—an unhealthy brew of Americano with five shots of espresso—before standing up from the ergonomic chair where you’ve glued your ass on in the last two to three business hours. The demo for Sunset Paradise is almost finished. There are still a few parts that need major adjustments and refinement but you’re confident that you’ll be done by midnight.

Manager-nim enters the studio just as you reach the door. You jump, almost kicking the indoor potted plant inconveniently positioned near the door. The caffeine made you extra jumpy today. Once you get over your tiny shock, you bow your head in greeting. Manager-nim mirrors your actions.

“You're still working?” he asks.

“You're still bald?”

Manager-nim rolls his eyes at you, smiling. You chuckle.

Manager-nim, or rather, Song Dan, is ORACLE’s manager. He is a middle-aged man who only came up to your shoulders. He’s shaped like a square with round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He treated you and the other members of ORACLE as if you were his daughters.

“I’m going to go get coffee. You can sit here for a while,” you invite, gesturing to the tiny cream couch. You use your feet to nudge the potted plant and clear Manager-nim’s path.

“No coffee,” Manager-nim stops you, taking a seat. “That's enough coffee for you today. Sit down here. We need to talk.”

“You can't kick me out. I won't give you Ciel’s first post-military mini album and ORACLE’s summer title track if you do.”

Manager-nim’s eyebrows draw together, a vertical wrinkle appearing between them, “What? No. We're not kicking you out.”

Your shoulders sag, relieved.

“Yoon PD-nim wants you to release a single.”

At that, your entire body stiffens, eyes going wide as saucers. You let out a noise in disbelief.

“You're joking.”

Manager-nim’s face doesn't shift in the slightest.

“You're actually serious,” you rub your chin with your hand.

What is Yoon PD-nim trying to pull now? Two years have passed since you’ve disappeared from the limelight. You're certain that you're not returning to the world of flashing lights and stage performance anymore and you’ve already accepted that your career has ended.

“Why?” your voice slightly wavers as you ask. Manager-nim sighs heavily, patting the vacant space beside him.

“Take a seat. We’re going to be talking for a while.”

The girl in the mirror stares back at you. She looks exhausted. She has deep bags underneath her eyes. Her shoulders are bony. They look like they're about to pierce through her pale skin. Her lips, which should be a nice shade of pink, are pale. Her eyes hold emptiness.

You pull your gaze away from your reflection and direct it to the bathroom sink, where a hair brush sits on the white tiles quietly. Fallen hair gathers up in its numerous sharp teeth. At this rate, you’re going to end up like Manager-nim—bald.

You can't go bald. You have a weirdly shaped head.

“Yoon PD-nim wants you to release a single but before the release, he needs you to be in a PR relationship with someone.”

You hiss loudly, slapping a hand on your temple. God, you want to act like Manager-nim never said that. You don't want to remember it.

You? A PR relationship? With someone you don't know? How atrocious. You didn't even need to hear Manager-nim out until the end. You are out. You do not vibe with romantic relationships. They make your skin crawl.

“Listen, [Name]. This might be your only chance to come back again.”

“What if I don't want to come back again?”

“Then why are you still here? Why are you still making music? You're good at leaving so why didn't you?”

The public still terrifies you but you will never tell that to anyone. You can’t even go out and buy groceries without trembling. So many eyes. So many judging eyes. They're all waiting to destroy you again with their stupid eyes and stupid mouths with sharp teeth. A stupid PR relationship won't save you.

But what if it will?

You hold the edges of the sink and lean the majority of your weight against it. Your knuckles slowly turn white. Your knees feel weak. You close your eyes and let out a shaky sigh.

Why are you still here? A voice in your head asks.

I just want to be home. You reply.

Do it. This is your ticket to go home. It says.

You open your eyes and gaze into the mirror.

Do you want to be home?

More than anything.

With a nod, you push yourself away from the sink and exit the bathroom.

Yoon Sang Hyuk, CEO of HAN Entertainment—the black marble desk name plate indicates; the text an intimidating shade of gold. The owner of the name sits behind the table, his legs crossed over the other. His face is sealed with a neutral expression. Suddenly, a satisfied smile works its way across his face and you swear the wrinkles that permeated his entire face doubled in amount.

“I knew you still had it in you,” he says calmly. “That's good.”

“Thank you,” you say, your tone coming out bland.

“I’ll give you a manager and you are to leave for Singapore tomorrow.”

You nod, “Yes, Yoon PD-nim.”

“Oh and [Name]?”

“Yes, Yoon PD-nim?”

“I know you're smart and you're hardworking and you're strong,” he begins. “I am confident you’ll do well so when you fly out there, don't be intimidated by any of them. You're as powerful as them. Remember the reason why you're there in the first place and do what you think is best.”

“You're putting a lot of trust in me,” you observe.

It's questionable; the amount of trust he’s giving you. You already expected that Yoon PD-nim would send out an entire escort team just to make sure that you're not going to mess up again and get yourself involved in a PR nightmare incident. Who knows? Maybe someone will dig up pics of you copying homework from your seatmate in middle school and crucify you for being an academic cheater while you're out there holding hands with your fake boyfriend.

“I know you won't make the same mistake twice.”

You finally catch the underlying message behind his seemingly harmless words.

Focus on coming back and don't make another mistake.

You nod, “Yes, Yoon PD-nim.”

“Lando Kinder Norris,” you read the name on the folder, brows furrowing. That's a rather unique middle name. “British-Belgian. Born November 13, 1999—”

It's good that your fake boyfriend and you were born in the same year. You're not very fond of age gaps.

“—in Bristol, England. Currently racing for McLaren. Car number 4. First entry is the Australian Grand Prix.”

Below is a series of long paragraphs detailing his racing history that you’re definitely not reading. Shoving the folder aside, you lean back into the seat and cross your arms over your chest. Your eyes flutter close. Jinnie, a HAN entertainment manager who looks like she’s half white and half Asian, gives you a judging look from her seat.

“You should read it,” she advises.

“No,” you say.

“I spent hours compiling that information,” Jinnie frowns.

“You compiled the wrong info,” you tell her, not even bothering to glance towards her. “Nobody will believe we’re real if I only know the things written in Wikipedia. You should have asked his PR team how he likes his coffee, if he prefers brunch dates or dinner dates, if he likes staying in or going out, if he likes the sunny weather or the rain, if he’d rather get food delivery or cook, if he’d like to hold hands and walk side by side or walk ahead of you so he can act like your guard dog. Those things.”

To be loved is to be known.

“You speak as if you have romantic experience.”

“Do poets have to experience the things they write poetry about?” you retort. “Immanuel Kant believed that everything depended on how individuals interpret and respond to his environment based on their personal opinions and feelings. I don't need to experience it to know.”

Recurring observations are your common source of knowledge. Reading is another.

And besides, this isn't your first PR relationship. You like to think that you know exactly what you're doing.

“Tell me something that's not written in the folder, Jinnie-ssi,” you open your eyes and tilt your head so you can lock eyes with her. “For example, why does a distinguished racer need a fake relationship? I can’t be the only one benefiting from this agreement.”

Jinnie purses her lips, “I don't know much.”

“But you know something,” you rest your chin on the palm of your hand. “Tell me.”

“There have been rumors that Lando Norris got a girl pregnant. The woman marched into Woking and demanded to see him. Apparently, he got her pregnant when they slept together in a bar,” Jinnie shakes her head. “It's a messy ordeal but McLaren recently proved that Lando wasn't the father. Too bad though, the public isn't believing them.”

“And they think giving him a girlfriend would somehow make the public love him?”

“They need to show the world that their boy isn't an asshole,” Jinnie says. “That he’s a loving, loyal partner. That he isn't capable of committing fuckboy crimes because he has a girlfriend waiting for him at home.”

You snort. McLaren really decided that you’ll be the best girlfriend? How did they even know your existence? The KPop community and the F1 community are worlds far away from each other. It's easier for them to choose a supermodel, an American actress, or even a pop star. But no, they really decided that a washed-up KPop idol is a good girlfriend for their star boy. You can think of a few reasons why they chose you.

“Are you sure he really isn't the father?” you ask. Companies can ignore morality for the sake of protecting their golden images. HAN Entertainment is no different. For all you know, you’re going to be fake dating an asshole who made a woman pregnant and refused to take responsibility. He’d be no different from your father who left your pregnant mother.

“Beats me.”

An hour later, the plane lands in the most expensive city in the world, Singapore.

You have three choices: a VAQUERA blue devil sweatshirt, Motel Rock chute trousers, and a Adidas forum low shoes combo, or a varsity baseball jacket, Bonbom rhee cargo pants, and a Curetty C round toe mary janes combo. You went with the varsity jacket-cargo pants-mary janes combo. You put on a bonnet to finish the look. When Jinnie enters the hotel room and sees what you're wearing, she immediately says:

“No. You're definitely not wearing that.”

“What's wrong with this?” you ask, looking down at your fit. This is what you usually wear. They're comfortable and acubi fashion is a trend nowadays.

“You're a WAG now. Dress like it.”

Your eyebrow arches.

“WAG?”

“Wife and girlfriend,” Jinnie replies. Your confusion isn't absolved, not even the slightest. Your mouth pulls to the side.

“And how does this correlate to my fashion sense? Do race car drivers control their girlfriend’s fashion style?” you genuinely question.

“No,” Jinnie says. “But they’d prefer it if you dress in something befitting for a WAG, you know? Elegance? Classic timely looks?”

You put a finger up, “No.”

Jinnie huffs, “I’m not taking a no for an answer. Wear a satin dress. Wear cotton trousers and silk blouses. Look like you're from an old money family, not some hip hop dancer from the streets. You're no longer your own person, you are an extension of Lando Norris. You have to look a certain way, act a certain way, talk a certain way. Your goal is to make Lando Norris look good.”

You push your tongue to the inside of your cheek, annoyed. Your jaw is tense.

“And when Lando Norris looks good, you’ll look good. Good enough that the public will love you again to support your new song. Do you understand?”

She's right.

You hate that she's right.

No matter how bitter the truth tastes, you are irrelevant and Lando Norris is your ticket to going back. In any other world, you will never ever allow yourself to become a jewelry for a man to wear. So you grit your teeth, keep the ugly prideful monster within you at bay, and clench your fists. You have nothing and when you have nothing, you need to be resourceful and make use of the people who have the things to push you to the top again.

You let out a sigh, “Jinnie, choose my outfit for me.”

Jinnie nods and leaves the room immediately.

It's three days before the Singapore FP1 2023. Jinnie drives you to meet Lando in his hotel. They organized a lunch gathering with you, Jinnie, Lando, and the other McLaren PR representatives who are responsible for this entire PR scam.

You're wearing a Versace tweed cardigan and a boucle tweed skirt paired with high heel leather boots and Greca goddess large shoulder bag. All black in color. Jinnie is the one who styled your hair. She insisted on it actually, claiming that your beach waves hair isn't doing it. She flat ironed the hell out of your hair so now, it's straight as a pole. She also sprayed your bangs with strong hold hairspray to keep them in place.

The outside world is nothing but a blur of high-rise buildings and cement pavements as the car runs. You're picking on your nails. They're clean but bare of manicures. Your two pinky nails are a bit too short. You tried to stop yourself from biting them in the airport but you can’t resist.

Two years is a long time. A bit too long in your opinion. You don't remember the things you learned in your etiquette classes anymore—how to stand in the public, how to walk, how to pose in front of the cameras, how to smile, how to greet people, how to look completely in your element despite being anxious of having a thousand eyes staring at you, how to act as if you're not crumbling at the pressure of looking good for everyone. That's the only way they’ll love you. If you look good in their eyes.

“We’re here.”

You blink.

“Come again?”

Jinnie points outside the car window. The car stopped and you didn't notice.

“Sorry,” you mutter, flipping your hair over your shoulder. You let out a breath, roll your shoulders back, and push the door open. Your entire face relaxes and you smile politely at the valet when Jinnie hands him the keys of the car. You ignore the starstruck expression on his face as you gesture to Jinnie to lead the way, following after her but not before saying your thanks to the valet. You're polite. You're trained to be.

You keep your shoulders square and your walk confident as you enter the hotel lobby. There aren’t a lot of people inside. There's a family of four in a corner, a group of elderly people sitting in the waiting area, and a group of posh friends chatting near the front desk. You can see a few heads turning in your peripheral vision. You can't blame them. You can be stunning if you try to be.

Your heart begins to ram violently against your rib cage. A million butterflies infest your intestines. Your ankles feel like it’ll snap in half a few minutes later. Your mind chants: DID THEY NOTICE HOW SCARED I AM? DID THEY NOTICE HOW TERRIFIED I AM? DID THEY NOTICE? DID THEY?

You want your ball cap and your sunglasses and your face mask. You want to hide your face.

You have to control your breathing as subtly as you can but you continue walking as if you're the prettiest yet the most down-to-earth creature to ever grace the planet. You fix your hair again once Jinnie and you stop in front of the elevator. Jinnie presses a button and you wait. While waiting, you twist the sole of your boot against the floor. It's better than tapping it against the floor. The elevator dings and the two of you enter the empty box.

When the doors close, your knees give out. You slam your hands against the stainless steel walls to stop yourself from dropping to your knees on the floor. Jinnie’s hands wrap around your waist, supporting as you pull yourself up. Her face contorts in worry.

“Are you alright?” she asks. You nod quickly.

“Yeah, yeah,” you lay your palm against your chest, right above your drumming heart. “Thanks.”

You straighten up, tugging the hem of your Versace tweed outfit to smoothen the creases and fixing your hair again. You clear your throat. The elevator dings and the doors open. You step out and your mask slides in place.

Jinnie leads you to a private dining hall. In the middle of a hall is a table occupied by five people wearing tacky orange-black polo shirts. You recognize one of them to be your fake boyfriend, Lando Norris.

Jinnie had already shown you what he looked like in her tablet and a few printed pictures but the pictures didn't do him justice. He looks extra charming personally.

He's still not your type.

The entire group rises to a stand just as you and Jinnie reach the table. You give a ninety degree bow, hands flat on the collar of your top so you won't accidentally give the McLaren people a view of your chest. (It's not like they have something to see anyway. Your chest is flatter than a rice field.) The edges of your lips curl upwards in a polite smile. You see Lando, your supposed fake boyfriend, try to imitate the bow, although he doesn't go as deep as you did. Your head tilts slightly at his action.

Jinnie is the first one who speaks, stretching a hand in front of her to shake hands with the McLaren team. She introduces herself in fluent English, “I’m Jinnie Jo of HAN Entertainment. It's a pleasure to meet you. This is [Name].”

They each introduce themselves one by one. Nicole, Greg, Kyla, and Louis. You try to memorize their faces and their names, drilling it into your brain so you won't forget. You're going to be working closely with them after all.

“Hi,” you greet them. You also shake hands with each of them. It feels weird, shaking hands as greetings. You are more accustomed to bowing.

“Wow, Jinnie, your accent is good,” Kyla compliments your manager.

“Thank you,” Jinnie smiles pleasantly. “I was born in Chicago. English is my first language.”

“How about her? Does she speak English?” Louis inquires. He's giving you a funny look. You ignore it.

“She does,” you smile at him pleasantly. “I’m very fluent. You don't have to worry.”

Risha, the Canadian member of ORACLE, was the one who helped you master English. You even have a Canadian accent when you speak English because of her. Additionally, you also took language classes when you were a trainee—Japanese, Chinese, English, and you even requested Portuguese, Spanish, French, and Korean sign language. You dabbled a bit on Tagalog, too, because you know how large the ORACLE fanbase is in the Philippines. You continued taking the classes up even after debut, even after all the members of the group had stopped, because you wanted to master the languages for the fans, to be able to hold conversations with them, to connect with them. You only stopped going to the classes after leaving the group two years ago. It's nice to see that your English skills are still in perfect shape.

“Please take a seat,” Nicole invites. You and Jinnie sit down. You place your bag on the empty chair beside you and when you pull your gaze up, you coincidentally meet Lando’s eyes. They're blue and green with flecks of hazel dusted in the middle. It's the first time you've seen someone with eyes wielding three different colors. They're stunning.

You smile at him. He smiles back and then averts his gaze. You turn to Nicole, who’s sitting beside you.

“Now,” she says, putting two folders on the table. She slides them towards you and Jinnie. Jinnie picks them up. You don't. Instead, you stare at them.

“What are these?” you question, slowly bringing your eyes up and meeting Nicole’s gaze.

“Contracts,” she answers.

“Contracts?” you echo, picking the folder up and opening it. You take your sweet time reading from top to bottom, tilting your head a bit to the side.

“You don't have to read it all. It's all just formalities. Just sign it,” Louis inputs. “Reading can be hard for you since it's not your first language—”

“I read just fine,” you interrupt, not glancing up as your eyes thoughtfully scan through the words printed on the paper. “Thank you for the concern but this is a contract that involves me and my future. I wish to know what I’m agreeing to.”

Louis wisely keeps his mouth shut. You put your hand on your mouth so you can discreetly smirk.

When you finish reading, you slowly set the folder back on the table. You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you tap your finger on the wooden surface of the table.

“This is unfairly written, don't you agree?” you ask. “You're putting rather lots of demands on me but so little on him.”

From beside you, Jinnie thins her lips. You know she's also thinking the same thing. Fucking HAN Entertainment. They didn't even make sure that the contents of the contracts are not disadvantageous towards you. You are disappointed but not surprised. They really just sent you to be devoured by wolves and demanded you to not make a mistake.

McLaren also thinks they can just choose a washed-up KPop idol to cosplay as their golden boy’s trophy girlfriend and make her do all their demands with little benefits and zero complaint. They deliberately chose someone who still holds popularity but little power. Someone who needs them as badly as they need her. They chose you.

Assholes. The two of them.

“What do you want him to do anyway?” Louis sneers. His face is beginning to look a little too annoying. “He's busy building his career. All you have to do is support him and make sure everyone knows it because you have none. That's all. Or is that a little hard for you?”

Louis is getting this all wrong. Jinnie told you that you're going to fix his reputation for him so his career wouldn't be ruined. In exchange, he gives you publicity so you could bring your career back from ruination. This is not a parasitic relationship where only their side gets the benefits. How could you even work on that comeback of yours if you're going to be glued by his side?

Your jaw ticks with restraint yet you choose to smile, “He’s not the only one building his career.”

You pick up the folder and toss it to Jinnie, who catches it skillfully.

“Throw that away. We're flying home. I don't need a PR relationship to promote my single that much.”

Satisfaction fills you when their faces grow alarmed.

Ha.

“Wait,” Kyla stands and she shoots a dirty glance towards Louis. Your eyebrows scrunch a little. “The contracts are open to revisions.”

You clap your hands together, smiling widely.

“Perfect. Jinnie, hand me a pen.”

The team leaves you and Lando alone in the hall to eat, to give you both a chance to get to know each other.

You allow your eyes to scan the hall. It has a bright spacious ambiance. The windows are stretched from the floor to the ceiling, allowing as much natural light inside. Singapore looks absolutely breathtaking down below. The flooring is made out of natural pine and a crystal chandelier hangs atop the table where you and Lando ate. You keep thinking: what if it'll fall? You shake the thought out of your head and put a fork full of pasta into your mouth.

“Is the pasta good?” Lando asks. You nod, humming and smiling. You don't like it one bit. You're also mildly allergic to shellfish. You're definitely going to get a bad case of rash later. You hope Jinnie is prepared with a medicine kit. You forgot to bring yours.

You wipe your mouth with your table napkin, announcing, “I’m full.”

You have only eaten half the plate.

“Oh you have a…” Lando points at the corner of his lips. You wipe the same area in your face. “No, the other side.”

You wipe the other side, “Is it gone?”

“Allow me,” he says, standing up from his chair and leaning across the table to thumb the stain.

“Is it gone?” you ask again. Lando nods.

“Yeah, it is.”

He goes back to his seat.

“Thank you,” you smile. “You're already doing great with the whole fake boyfriend act.”

A flustered smile splits Lando’s face, shaking his head.

“I try.”

“By the way,” you begin, leaning a little forward. “Did they also give you a folder with my information?”

Lando nods, “Yeah.”

“Did they also suck?”

He purses his lips.

“Well….” he drawls.

“You can tell me if it sucks. The one my manager gave me looks like it's copy-pasted from Wikipedia.”

Lando chuckles.

“I mean, your biography is very…detailed? Too detailed, I think. I didn't remember most of them, sorry. I only remember a few of them. Like your birthday. January 1, 2000.”

“1999.”

“Pardon?”

You wave your hand in a theatrical flourish, “I was born in 1999. The company manipulated my public information.”

Lando’s brows raise in surprise.

“They do that?”

“You’ll be surprised,” you lean back into your chair.

“But why?”

“So every member in ORACLE can be born in 2000. I don't know,” you shrug your shoulders.

“That seems like an unnecessary change.”

“It is,” you agree. “But HAN wants everything to be perfect. They see a flaw. They fix it to their liking immediately.”

“What are the other things that are a scam in your biography?”

“Scam is a big word,” you tell him, amused. “But I’ll tell you. In exchange, tell me about yourself. Not the info I can read in Wikipedia. In order to make this work, I have to know you.”

To be loved is to be known.

“Alright,” Lando says. “We can take turns asking each other questions.”

“Cool,” you bring a glass of water towards your lips, taking a sip. “I’ll start. How do you like your coffee?”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #kpop idol! reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 imagines #fanfic

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vividachromatic · 2 months

Text

Meant To Stay The Worst

Pt. 1

Alastor x Reader

(friendship, slowbuild romance)

Pt. 2 ->

Note: This is gonna be a series. Reader and Alastor will be friends and fall in love and marry and meet each other again in hell and rule there as overlords...

Sounds nice and simple. And although all that is true, there will be a lot of emotional drama still. First, because of Alastor's trust issues, but also because they don't have a 'lovey-dovey' nice relationship. There will be fluff, and they'll love each other, yes. But the concept of their relationship is basically supporting each other in making each other worse. Like, they're in hell for a reason and want to stay there... They do morally corrupt things and even when they don't agree with each other they support each other.

I don't think this is dark enough to be considered a dark fic at all, it's more canon typically dark. But just to say this isn't meant to portray a healthy relationship or morals.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, use of Y/N (kill me for it) , Alastor AND reader are on the ace spectrum but don't know , alcohol use, idk tell me if there's smth else

---

There was cake and tea, lovely flowers and lovely dresses. If you'd have been alone this may have been relaxing. But every time you tried to let your mind drift off to something nice - like a scenario of a book you read, the obnoxious voice of your cousin snapped you back to reality.

"Then he told me our offspring would be genetically superior!" She giggled.

"How romantic." You sighed in boredom and tried focusing on something else. Being forced to drink tea with your lovely cousin who tormented you ever since childhood, just so she could please her own sadistic desires was something you had to do as a representing lady of your house.

God being a woman in the 1930s was exhausting.

Your cousin Maria rolled her eyes at you. "Does it make you happy to be so negative all the time? You know you're gonna die alone if you don't fix this attitude of yours, right? You act like you're better than me, but at least men like me." She gave you a smug grin.

"Yeah, congratulations. I'm actually not really interested in the constant humiliation of being treated like a lesser human being, nor the year-long physical abuse I'd have to endure until I'd finally finish slowly poisoning my husband's tea."

Maria narrowed her eyes at your audacity to speak your opinion. Then she cleared her throat and smirked at you again - this was the look she always had as a child when she was about to torture you. "Speaking of which... I actually have someone you may be interested in meeting this time."

You just stared at her blankly without a response. You were forced to go on dates with different men all the time.

You were 21 and still not married, which was just a scandal for your family. But, you always managed to successfully scare these men away on your dates. Because you're a woman, your opinion of whether or not they'd be a good spouse obviously didn't matter, so you had to think of creative ways to make them not want to choose you.

After noticing your lack of response to her statement, Maria simply continued, "See there is this radio broadcast I've been listening to and this broadcaster... he just had such a hot voice! And he talked about some stuff... I don't know what, I didn't really listen, but he seemed proper, so I asked my dad to use his power to arrange a date for me! But, when I researched him further... I think he's a little poor actually, he wore this fake brand... also he doesn't really look like how I expected him to look, so... since you're all for this equality stuff I thought it'd be perfect. My dad is mad at me since he already paid for the date, so you're perfect!" She finished, giving you a fake smile.

"Hmm... this actually sounds like your problem, not mine." You gave her a fake smile back.

The girl just gave you an angry look and finished drinking her tea in silence.

Oh, you were so sure she was going to try to find a way to punish you for this.

And right you were. Your dad informed you the same day that you were going to go on that date. And you should definitely look out to not fuck this one up again.

Your father even acted like he cared about you for a second, explaining how this is what you must do in this world. Even if it's not perfect. You just went to your room in silence, trying not to cry in front of him.

This world was cruel. Your brother followed society's expectations and was fine. Your cousin followed society's expectations and was fine. You didn't and were unhappy. So was this truly the answer?

The next day you made yourself ready - skipping breakfast.

You'd just scare off this man like the others. Maybe you'd have to marry someone mediocre one day. Or maybe you were gonna run away someday. You weren't sure yet.

Arriving at the restaurant you recognized the cheesy interior suiting the style of your cousin and her father immediately.

The polite waiter recognized your face and showed you your table.

This supposed date of yours already sat there. When he saw you walking towards him, he immediately stood up and politely extended his hand to you. You took it and he planted a short kiss on your knuckles. The waiter handed you the menus and excused himself.

The man had a polite and big smile on his face and pulled your seat back, waiting for you to sit down until he sat down himself giving you a small bow. "My name is Alastor! It's a pleasure to be meeting you my dear, quite a pleasure."

He was definitely polite. But you did see what your cousin meant by saying he was probably not from a rich family. His moves seemed too much like he memorized them from a book only a short while ago, and not from real experience. His clothes seemed expensive for someone from a lower class but not higher. He also looked more dark-skinned than people in your family would probably find great.

"My name is Y/N. It's a pleasure to be meeting you, too." You tried giving him an honest smile back. He was probably gonna turn out to be an asshole, too, like all the guys, but for now, he hasn't done anything wrong.

The two of you exchanged light small talk before ordering your meals. You were surprised to see him ordering a heavy meal with a lot of meat and strongly seasoned. You of course didn't care what he was gonna eat and ordered your favorite meal, too, whatever his opinion may be, but you were used to everyone ordering the same boring and light stuff to seem healthy and well-mannered.

The conversation seemed superficial and boring but not too bad. He had at least not shown any extremely radical opinions or behavior yet.

His smile remained on his face throughout the whole conversation and after a while, he cleared his throat and explained kindly to you: "Look, you seem like a really beautiful and lovely woman, any man would be lucky to have you. This is why I have to be honest with you and tell you: I'm actually not interested in any romantic relationship or anything similar. But I am flattered by the letter you sent me and I do enjoy your company..." his smile didn't falter as he tried to politely let you down. It did though, when he saw your unusual reaction to his rejection.

Your always neutral-looking face until now, was slowly forming a smile and your eyes lit up. You were offended he actually thought your cousin's (probably vile) letter was written by you, but all in all you were glad, because this man didn't actually expect to sleep with you or even continue meeting.

You let out a relieved laugh. After seeing his confused face you quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, I just- my father forces me to go on these dates when I'm not actually looking for a relationship. I was already prepared to try to make up some story to scare you off, too, like I always do. But it seems like I may actually be able to enjoy a dinner for once without pretensions or expectations."

Though scaring men away can be entertaining in itself, too.

Your truly relieved smile, while picking up your food made Alastor smile again, too.

"Well if that's the case, I am happy we're on the same page, then. Though I am surprised about this... letter of yours then." He smiled gently, though his eyebrows scrunched a little in irritation when he said the word letter.

You then explained the existence of your cousin with a roll of your eyes and an embarrassed smile.

From that point on your conversation was much lighter and actually enjoyable. You both shared your annoyance at everyone's expectation to have to marry to have a life worth living. You then shared your struggle specifically as a woman. Marrying a man basically meant selling yourself to another man after you belonged to your father. It's like being an object.

Surprisingly, he actually agreed and talked about feminism and how much he appreciated women, especially his mother who solely cared for him since he was little.

He then explained how he definitely didn't want to meet the person who wrote that letter and expected an awful evening, but his mother encouraged him to at least try to meet a girl for once. This then ended in you talking shit about your cousin and him laughing about it.

It's the first time you talked to someone who actually shared your opinion. Of course, you knew those people existed, there was a wave of feminist women nowadays, calling themselves 'flappers' and even some men supported it. But you were never able to meet any of them, the only people you met were the same old, sheltered relatives of yours or their acquaintances.

You did have a thirst for knowledge though, which was the reason you knew about all of this in the first place, even when you were supposed to only associate yourself with a certain circle of people.

But you loved to read books you weren't supposed to and you loved to express yourself through art, when you weren't supposed to.

You tried learning basic self-defense too, but it wasn't easy through words alone and nobody wanted to teach you, because it was 'unlady-like'.

Alastor listened to you talking with a smile and nodded. He then explained how he hung around Jazz bars pretty often and got to know many beautiful feminist women there. You listened attentively. You heard about these places and wanted to go there for some time... Alastor noticed your interest and invited you to show you around one of these bars sometime.

You agreed with a genuine happy smile. This meeting was so unexpectedly nice. And you probably even made an actual friend for once.

"I do have to ask... you said you scare men away usually?" He asked and you nodded with a grin.

"So, how do you do that exactly?" He asked with a smirk while eating his steak.

"I usually just pretend to be a witch, a cannibal or a serial killer. Always works." You shrugged. Convincing men of these things over one date was actually easier than you'd think. And it did make sure they would never want to contact you again.

"Oh? But you're not, right?" He asked, his smile not wavering.

"Hmmm..." You obviously assumed his question to be a joke or rhetorical and answered, "No, I'm sadly not that interesting." You grinned and he gave you a weird grin back.

After the date, he walked you back to your house like a proper gentleman and kissed the back of your hand again when saying goodbye. He was a proper gentleman, not condescending or expectant of anything. This was definitely nice.

When you arrived back home you seemed surprisingly happier than your father or your brother expected you to be. They asked you how it went and you just said it went well and returned to your room.

...

One week later you met Alastor again in front of a local Jazz Bar. He politely offered to intertwine his arm with yours before entering the place.

Inside you were immediately greeted with...

"Alastor!!!" A small blonde girl hugged him with huge enthusiasm. He awkwardly patted her back.

"Aww!! Who is this sweet doll you brought with you?" The girl grinned at you.

"This is Y/N. A new friend of mine." Alastor introduced you to the short, chubby girl. You gave her a shy wave with your hand.

She immediately took your hand and dragged you into the club. "Well, Alastor's friends are my friends! You're pretty! Can you do the Charleston?" You blinked at her in confusion, looking around you, trying to find Alastor. You weren't used to people touching you or dragging you around this much... was this gonna go bad?

"Mimzy! How about you leave this lovely, little fellow to me, hm? She's still quite new to the scene." Alastor grinned at the girl and took your hand to guide you to him again. You sighed in relief. This girl seemed nice, but you didn't know her.

"Hmmm..." The girl glanced between you and Alastor with a thoughtful expression. "Alright! Does the new girl at least want some alc?" She grinned.

You politely told her the drink you wanted and Alastor just said 'the usual' with a dismissive wave of his hand and a smile. Mimzy nodded and left the two of you.

Alastor now led you to a private boot. You felt awkward. You were usually not too shy, but this situation was so unfamiliar.

"Hey..." You felt a hand on top of yours. "Relax." Alastor smiled at you. You nodded with a sigh.

Later Mimzy came back with a glass of your drink and a bottle of whiskey for her and Alastor. They ended up sharing the bottle with you after.

Mimzy smoked a cigar and encouraged you to try it, too - you did and though it was nice, you had to cough a lot.

Mimzy just giggled, calling you cute. Later she and Alastor showed you how to dance the Charleston. At first, you were embarrassed to try it, but after a couple of drinks, you were convinced.

After dancing for a while you sat back in the corner of the booth, Alastor smiling at you and pouring you another drink. "I'm grateful, but I think this is gonna be the last one." You tried not to slur your words too much and smiled at him, still out of breath and blushing from the dancing and the alcohol.

He nodded. "I'll walk you back home, of course." You smiled at him in gratitude.

This was probably one of the most enjoyable night you've had in a while. Though it probably was just a regular one for Alastor and his friend. You wondered if she was his girlfriend, she was pretty and he said he wasn't interested in romancing you.

Later when Alastor walked you home he gave you a small kiss on the cheek, despite this not being labeled as an actual date.

Alastor grinned at your face flushing in embarrassment and he asked you if you'd want to repeat the night. You enthusiastically agreed.

--------------------

This fic is my offering to the Helluva/Hazbin God to finally grace us with Helluva Boss s2 ep8 🙏🙏🙏 (I know I'm pushing my luck here, but also please let Blitzo and Stolas fix their relationship- okay now I'm getting delusional)

If you want to know how girlie scared off men, I just had 'Red Flags' by Tom Cardy in mind lmao.

Anyway, I've planned way more parts for this one, including when they are both married and in hell, so stay tuned!

#alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #fanfic #alastor x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

AITA for wanting a material thing rather than an experience for my college graduation gift, and being upset I still don't have it?

I skimmed through some other AITA posts to prepare me to write this one properly, and saw someone use the term "validation bait." I bring that up because I fear this post may read like that once all is said and done, but I genuinely am worried my perspective might be skewed. I encourage you to enter "Reddit Mode" if you decide to reply after your judgement with additional context and feel the need to be blunt.

Background context: I have an older sibling who graduated before me during the beginning of COVID. While his gift was delayed as a result, we as a family (three children one father) ended up going to Disney World, NASA, and Universal Orlando in 2021 to celebrate his accomplishment. It was a great trip, aside from the horrific humidity and the hurricane that just barely missed us. Later on, I asked my sibling if that was what he actually wanted to do, and he said our father proposed some ideas because he didn't really have any and Florida sounded like a good idea to him. My asking this will make sense later, but putting it here seems the most logical.

Additionally, it may be important to know that my father goes on a lot of trips. At least, more than anyone I've personally known. I'm not gonna try to calculate the exact number, but I will say in the span of less than a year (after the family Florida trip), he went to both Canada and Mexico for a week each, on top of additional excursions to Florida and Vegas-- almost all also including bringing his girlfriend. At the same time, he claimed assistance with college tuition was out of his budget, started having me pay rent on a part time job, and told my younger sibling fixing the AC in their car would cost too much as well. Even I know something doesn't add up here, but maybe I'm taking it too personally. End background context.

Fast forward to spring of 2023, and it's my turn to graduate college. Here's the thing: my brother was asked at least a year in advance to his graduation what he would like to do. I wasn't asked; I had to bring it up myself, and I waited until my graduation was only two months out. It was also over a phone call, because my father was out of town for at least the fifth time that year already. I dropped the hint that, for my graduation present, I would really like to get a nice gaming desktop. My father's response was, "... We'll see." Later on, he elaborated through text stating, "I took everybody to florida because i think graduations should be more about memories than what material thing you can get out of your dad."

Here's the thing: it's no secret to my dad that I'm a gamer, and I like video games. Additionally, it's no secret that a gaming desktop is something I have wanted for a decade. Even since middle school I've talked about gaming desktops and how much I wanted one. Even so, I happily played games like Saints Row III on a laptop that chugged along at 12 frames per second and took every crash in stride. I also thought that this kind of gift would be a relief to my dad, as my thought process was it would be far less expensive than taking an entire family somewhere out of the state for a week. Not only that, but there wasn't really anywhere I wanted to go. I don't have the desire to travel like he does; I don't mind taking my time off at home or locally, and relaxing with the things I have rather than spending a ton on a fancy dinner or hotel or concert.

So, naturally, I was confused, dismayed, and heartbroken. While I started crafting a text response explaining why a gaming desktop would not just be for personal use, but would also be advantageous for my career (my degree was in animation and I learned surface level coding for making video games), I also wondered why it was wrong for me to want a "material thing" even if it wasn't something necessarily "useful." Because while, yes, a gaming desktop would have the power I needed for more intensive animation projects, that wasn't really why I wanted one. But I figured explaining as such would help convince my dad why it was a good idea.

My dad ended up calling me before I could finish crafting my text, so I did my best to explain my standpoint, as well as pointing out how the specs for a gaming desktop are pretty much parallel with the specs for a desktop for things like 3D rendering and animation. He stood his ground on "making memories" as well, and also hinted that I was acting entitled for asking about my graduation present. I think I pointed out to him how he asked my older brother far in advance what he wanted for his graduation, but those details of the conversation are a little faded with time. I did end up sending my text after that phone call anyway, as I felt it better explained what I was thinking and feeling than I could say in verbal conversation (I've always gotten a little flustered talking to my dad about things I want that he doesn't approve of).

Fortunately, after reading my text, my father seemed to come around, and invited me to put together a list of parts for my computer, since I wanted to build it. I got really excited and got the help of my computer-savvy friend to put together something I thought was reasonable-- it had a really good graphics card and processor, and I made compromises on some of the other parts to lower the cost. I haven't looked at the list in a while, but the total cost-- tower, two mid-range monitors, basic keyboard and mouse-- was something like 2.5k approaching 3k. Mid range (at least, it is these days) I think, but it would be enough for the things I wanted to do.

I put the list together, and emailed it to my dad. The assumption I had, was he would purchase the parts, and then we would build it together (or I would build it alone). However, later on I went to ask him if he had gotten my email, and while he said yes, he also said, "I'm not paying for the whole thing. I can't afford it, and it's not fair to spend more on you as an individual than what I spent on your brother as an individual for the Florida trip."

I find the latter point somewhat fair considering I'm the only person who benefits from this gift, but the first point, given the background context on my father's habits, I'm not sure how much I believe. But arguing with him would have been pointless. I definitely would have liked to have had that information beforehand, but it ultimately didn't change much.

This is getting long, so I'll try to summarize the rest. This was just the first instance of my father changing the goal posts for my graduation gift. First, he tried to convince me that getting a prebuilt tower would be just as good. I did the research, and a tower with the graphics card I wanted would have cost as much as building my own tower and buying a monitor, keyboard, and mouse, and still not have been as good in other specs anyways. Then, he tried to tell me he was only going to give me $1000 towards the computer. I pointed out paying for my older sibling for the Florida trip would have cost at least $1500-- if I hadn't done the research, I wouldn't have known any better and just blindly agreed. Then, two days after my graduation, he stated that he wasn't going to give me the money for the computer until I had secured a full time job.

At that point, I just gave up, and agreed.

Fast forward to now. I'm still working the part time job, I barely make enough to put a couple dollars into savings, no one is hiring me full time, and my dad hinted that, instead of doing presents for Christmas this year, we all agree to go on vacation somewhere. Not only that, but his family in Canada just told him they're going to Mexico in November. Not only is my dad implying we should go too and I should pay a portion of my own way, I have a further feeling he may say that this will be our Christmas as well. I still don't have the computer, even though my dad has noticed how much I'm struggling.

If I had the computer, I wouldn't have minded the vacation-- but I feel like my wants and feelings have been completely pushed aside in favor of what my dad thinks is good and/or right, and the wind has been taken out of my sails regarding my graduation entirely. On the other hand, maybe he's right that I focus too much on a material thing and should redirect my attention to an experience and go somewhere to relax/get away from daily life.

Am I a materialistic asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ineedhaikyu · 27 days

Text

Chapter Three

Summary: Inarizaki boys reacting to their manager admitting her crush on Karasuno’s ace, Asahi Azumane

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Short fic but still fun to write. Atsumu is a little meanie in this but I still love him. He’s just a goofball sometimes. Some characters are a little OOC but I hope it’s okay for the sake of the story. A/N: Next post will be a headcanon about the Inarizaki vs Karasuno match because I’m not great at writing action scenes. Hope you still enjoy it. Happy reading!

“I think… He’s the one.”

As the words left her lips, (Y/N) knew they were true. She genuinely felt a connection towards the opposing team’s ace. Never before had she felt this warm feeling at this level with anyone else like they were with Asahi.

To all the boys before him, she did try to see if those feelings were hidden or at the very least present. In her eyes, every guy, minus the Miya twins, who tried to ask her out only showed her their best side. The side where they can take pride in, all the while hiding the side they didn’t want her to see. Obviously, she knew they had their reasons but every time she explained to them it was okay to have faults they didn’t want to listen. It was as if holding their macho pride took priority.

Or how sometimes they didn’t see her as more than a girl with a pretty face. She hated guys like that. Unlucky Schmuck #3 was the very definition of a shallow person. He was the captain and ace of the basketball team who’s only real interest in her was her chest size and boosting his popularity. When she declined him, he became upset and dared to ask a question that solidified her decision was the right choice: Why wouldn’t you go out with me?! I’m the ace!

Those were just some of the reasons why she liked Asahi. He was honest with his feelings. He’s brave enough to admit his faults and maintain so humble while carrying the title of ace. His presence was so comforting and soothing. Like a warm ray of sunshine breaking over the horizon.

“Aww, look at her.” Atsumu teased, his fingers pinching her cheek. “Our manager-senpai is in love. Who would have thought?”

(Y/N) smirked, her hand making its way to pinch Atsumu’s cheek. “What? You thought I was going to stay single forever?”

“Ack! No! Of course not…” The setter said unconvincingly, his eyes gleaming in mischief. “Ow! Quit hurting me!”

She pinched his cheek one final time before letting go. “But really, Asahi is a sweet guy.”

“Oh yeah, he looks really lovable.” Osamu peered over her shoulder to look at Karasuno’s ace. “You do know we’re not going to go easy on them just because you like him, right?”

“Like hell we are!” Atsumu exclaimed as he crossed his arms. “I got to show that Goody-Two Shoes a lesson about setting.”

(Y/N)’s jaw dropped and mocked a hurt expression on her face. “I wouldn’t ask you guys to do that. Everyone worked hard to get here. Nationals isn’t the place to take it easy.”

Suna fixed his jersey into his shorts. “So… When’s the first date?”

“He’s not her boyfriend!” The twins interrupted in unison.

“Geez, announce it to the whole stadium, why don’t you? Maybe I should get the announcer’s microphone to help.” (Y/N) said, her words dripping in sarcasm.

The middle blocker smirked at his manager’s quick retort before returning to his previous question, “That being said, will there be a date?”

“No way.” Osamu cuts in. “It’s too soon. They barely met yesterday.”

“And our senpai only deserves the best. Not some nameless ace from a forgotten powerhouse.” Atsumu huffed as he crossed his arms.

“This is why you’re the evil twin.”

“What?!”

“That’s true.”

“Shut up, Suna!”

(Y/N) smiled at the second-years. They always made her day a bit more interesting since they first met. But sometimes, they can be a bit much. Especially before matches.

“As much as I love you guys being protective and all, I can make my own choices. I’m not the type of girl that would fall for any guy.”

“That’s true.” Suna jutted out a thumb at the twins. “You were smart enough to dodge these two.”

“Hey!” They yelled, glaring at the smirking middle blocker.

“Oh, they’re not that bad. Anyone would be lucky to have them as their boyfriend.” (Y/N) began as she patted both twin’s backs. Her words seeped into the brothers’ core as they puffed out their chest in pride. Until she spoke, “But they’re still idiots.”

Once the idiot remark registered in their brains, the twins quickly reacted while Suna cracked another grin.

“How could you say that, (Y/N)-san?!”

“He’s more of an idiot than I am!”

“Oi! At least I don’t steal her food when she’s not looking!”

“So? She says she doesn’t mind.”

As Atsumu and Osamu continued to argue, the manager and the middle blocker watched from the sidelines. With the twins now moving on to personal insults, the rest of the team decided to join the watch party.

“Why are they fighting?” Akagi, the libero, asked as he and Omimi walked up to her.

“I call them idiots.” (Y/N) simply stated with a smile on her lips. “Now they’re trying to prove who’s the bigger idiot.”

“The fight could go on forever.” Omimi’s deep voice pointed out but made no effort to stop them.

“You didn’t answer my question, (Y/N)-san.” Suna whispered. “Is there a date with you and that Karasuno guy in the future?”

She smiled at him as she could see the care in Suna’s eyes and hear the amount of worry that laced his words. Her mind couldn’t help but wonder on what would happen if she and Asahi were to go on a date. If he were to ask her out, she undoubtedly would say yes but there’s that small voice of doubt that would say: This is too good to be true. So much so that it has to be a dream…

“I don’t know, Suna. I think it’s too soon to tell.” (Y/N) took the chance to look at Asahi across the gym. His back was towards her but it was as though he could sense her eyes on him as he turned around. His eyes locked with hers and once again she felt herself get goosebumps. “I guess we’ll see.”

Suna narrowed his eyes at his manager. During the two years he’s known (Y/N), he has never seen her like this before with a guy. While this Asahi guy looks… Suspicious to say the least, if he can make her happy then that’s fine by him.

“Take it from me, (Y/N)-senpai, when a guy likes a girl, he makes the effort to get to know her… Those moments with her… Will mean a lot to him. If you feel the same way as he does, don’t be scared. Go for it and see where the relationship takes you one step at a time.”

Out of any of the players on their team, Suna was the last person she would suspect of giving out meaningful relationship advice. Though, she couldn’t say it completely surprised her. The middle blocker has always been the observant type.

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Suna. I needed to hear that.”

“No problem. Guess my sister’s girly magazines do work, huh?”

(Y/N) gasped before playfully punching him. “And here I was thinking you’re my favorite second-year.”

“I still am.” Suna chuckled. “But whatever happens, I hope your boyfriend knows how lucky he is to catch your eye.”

“Aww Suna… You care for me.”

“The whole team cares for you.”

With that being said and done, the middle blocker left and (Y/N) smiled as his words were true.

The first-years, though nervous, would always help her with trivial chores. The second-years never failed to bring any silly shenanigans to the table but she had to admire their dedication to the sport. Finally, her fellow third-years, the ones that have been by her side since the very first practice, have given her a high school experience that she’ll remember fondly. Despite their motto saying that they didn’t need the memories, (Y/N) will always cherish the moments she spent with the Inarizaki volleyball team.

“(Y/N)-san.”

“Hey, Aran. Oh, Kita-san, you’re done with the interview? How did it go?”

Kita unzipped his maroon jacket before he spoke, “It went well. How are things here?”

“Besides the twins arguing.” Aran laughed.

The trio of third years walked to the nearby bench where two black jerseys, #1 and #4, were placed.

“Everything is ready to go.” (Y/N) answered as her two friends removed their normal shirts. She passed each of them their respective shirts. “And the twins are just… Extra motivated to play.”

“Oh?” Aran raised his eyebrows. “Any special reason why?”

“Well… There’s this guy I met yesterday…”

“WHO?!” The Inarizaki’s ace all but shouted, attracting the attention from everyone on the team.

“Aran, lower your voice.” Kita instructed.

But the ace only looked at his captain as if he was a crazy mental patient. “How can you be so calm, Kita? Did she tell you already?”

The silver-haired stoic captain shook his head. “(Y/N) didn’t tell me anything, but I can tell something was going on. I just didn’t know it was because of a guy.”

“Who is he? Do we know him?” Aran interrogated.

(Y/N) retold her story on how she met with Karasuno’s ace to her friends. The butterflies in her stomach revived once more when she was at the part of the story where she secretly gave Asahi her phone number. When she finished, she waited for their response.

Aran was the first to react.

“Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you, (Y/N). This guy must be crazy good to impress you.”

“It’s not just that. You’ll see when you play against him.” (Y/N) told them as she fiddled with the zipper of her maroon jacket. “He’s not like anyone I’ve met.”

Kita smiled at her. The two of them have shared the same classes since the first day of high school so he knows that (Y/N) wouldn’t fall for any guy, no matter how persuasive or charming he can be. But it seems this Asahi guy wasn’t like that at all. In fact, he sounded like the complete opposite a girl would go for… At least, that’s what he assumes. But he wasn’t going to question his manager’s choice. Like (Y/N) said, he’ll see for himself what Karasuno’s ace is like.

“I trust you, (Y/N).”

“Yeah, me too, (Y/N).” Aran joined. “I can’t wait to see what this guy is made of.”

Before she could even utter a word, Coach Kurosu announced it was time. Everyone quickly huddled together for their usual pep talk. (Y/N) took a quick head count before gathering her stuff. When she came back, everyone looked more determined than ever.

“What’s-”

“Alright! Let’s go show Karasuno what Nationals is all about! Let’s go win this!” Aran shouted.

“Yeah!” Everyone shouted back.

“And show that their ace is out of his league to flirt with (Y/N)-senpai!” Atsumu added.

“YEAH!!!”

If she didn’t have her hands full, (Y/N) would have facepalmed at her teammates’ method of a pep talk. It would have been considered embarrassing if it wasn’t so endearing to see how much they cared for her. Besides, she’s never seen them so determined like this before.

As they walked towards the main gym, she brought Kita aside and asked, “Was what Atsumu said really necessary?”

“It worked didn’t it?”

(Y/N) sighed but smiled. Her heart was beating in excitement as the main gym’s lights shined over them. Her ears were ringing when she heard the loud cheers.

“May the best team win.”

‘Good luck, Asahi.’

“Hey, Daichi. Is it just me or am I being glared at by everyone on the other team?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Asahi. You’re probably imagining it.”

#haikyu x reader #asahi azumane x reader #asahi fluff #asahi x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyuu #asahi x you #haikyu #haikyu imagines #haikyuu x reader #Inarizaki #Atsumu #Osamu #Miya Twins #Suna #Kita #Aran

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oodlyenough · 26 days

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apollo justice: ace attorney thoughts

over the weekend I finished playing AA4 so I wanted to try to put my thoughts in order. much to think about etc

spoilers for the whole game obv, but i haven't played AA5 or AA6 yet so any mention of those are speculation lol

I had heard some pretty mixed reactions to AA4 and I had a lot of reservations going in. It's also probably the AA game I've played that I've been the most spoiled for, which is a shame but probably an unavoidable consequence of waiting for the port while engaging with the fandom. I don't usually like being spoiled but I think knowing the broad strokes of what to expect actually helped here. I can imagine an AU where I blitzed through the first trilogy and onto 4 with no idea of what was coming and being... very upset and disappointed by the direction it took. Having several months to brace for things like Phoenix's disbarment, the 7 year gap, Trucy, etc definitely softened those blows and made me more amenable to them than I would've been otherwise.

Cases

For the most part I thought the puzzle solving was good and the pacing was solid. The puzzles were mostly challenging enough to be satisfying to solve but not so challenging as to be infuriating, and I don't think I needed a walkthrough at all. 4-1 is one of the best tutorial cases in the franchise so far (though I'd give the edge to 3-1) and 4-4 was a really cool finale. The middle two cases tbh I also found fairly charming, and there's usually a least one case in the middle that seems to drag forever, so that was a pleasant surprise. I played Investigations 1 right before this, and I thought both the puzzles and pacing in that game were frankly horrible, so AA4 won a lot of points just with that.

I did think Turnabout Corner and Serenade would be more relevant in the grand scheme of things. The half-spoilers I knew had me expecting a much bigger web of conspriacy than we ended up with -- I expected it to be more than coincidence that Phoenix got hit by a car, more than coincidence that the Borginian egg coccoons are related to poison etc ... like... I fully assumed this was going to tie into the atroquinine plot. But I guess not ... ? Lol

Characters

The new main cast are all very likable, despite my initial reluctance to have a new main cast to begin with. Klavier was an interesting change of pace as prosecutor, in that he wasn't particularly antagonistic outside of the court, nor was he particularly preoccupied with winning, but he was still fun and challenging enough to face off against. Trucy was fun and delightfully bonkers as all assistants should be. Apollo's longsuffering exasperation was hilarious. Ema is the BEST I loved having her as the detective I wish she was there all the time.

I loved Beanix, for the most part. I can see why he rubs some people the wrong way, and tbh I'm glad his last canon outing isn't ... this. But I didn't find him wildly out of character, or at least, when he was feeling "out of character" vs the trilogy it made sense given the intervening events. I also thought it was fun to see him from the outside and see what a galaxybrain 5d chess master he is. I do wish we'd gotten to see more genuine moments of him with Trucy.

Kristoph was fun as a villain, though I have to say fandom led me to believe he was much more of a mastermind puppeteer than he seemed to be in reality. I was expecting a whole decade worth of conspiracies! Instead he fucked up once and struggled to fix it for seven years, lol. I also found the Kristoph/Phoenix relationship a) very fascinating, b) not really what I'd been led to believe by fandom (shocker). I like the canon more though -- I like that instead of being a retread of the Dollie betrayal-from-someone-you-love it was two guys who hate each other being forced to play nice as part of their own schemes.

Criticism

I think it's fairly obvious AA4 was meant to be a soft reboot of the series, to pivot away from the trilogy cast and set up our new heroes in Apollo, Trucy, and I guess Klavier. I think this is probably the entire explanation behind Maya and Edgeworth (and others but lbr those are the big two)'s conspicuous absence... but that doesn't make their absence any less conspicuous. I can squint and forgive neither of them being there when Phoenix is accused of murder, even though I find that insane. I can squint around Maya maybe being off in Kurain during the Enigmar trial, even though I think they could've used a line of dialogue to explain it. But then we started playing past-Phoenix for huge portions of investigation and that started to fall apart for me. Sure, maybe he's pushing his friends away because he's depressed, or maybe he wants to keep Maya out of things because he thinks it's dangerous, or whatever -- you could at least throw in a line or two saying as much. Not mentioning them at all and setting AA4 so closely after AA3, where Phoenix fell through a bridge to save Maya and Edgeworth chartered a private jet, just feels ridiculous.

I also think, at the end of the day, the story here was focused on and pivoting around Phoenix. The core question of the game is "what the hell happened to/is up with Phoenix Wright?" I love Phoenix, so that alone isn't a negative -- except that I think it meant Apollo, Klavier and even Trucy felt underwritten. Trucy and Klavier have such personal stakes in the unfolding events with the Gramaryes and Kristoph, but we only spend a little time and hints on how that might influence Trucy, who mostly falls into the AA weird girl pattern of brushing off major trauma instantly. (Maya got this a lot too in the original trilogy.)

Klavier ... I like Klavier, but they did not do much with him. How did he feel about Kristoph going to jail? He doesn't seem to hold it against Apollo, which is uh, noble, but perhaps not believable. He says he values honesty and truth but do we know why?

Apollo, likable as he was, felt like a passenger in his "own" game, rather than a major character. He doesn't even solve much of the stuff happening in the big overarching mystery -- he is Phoenix's avatar in court, presenting evidence and clues Phoenix left for him. Unlike Trucy and Klavier, who I am pretty sure take a back seat from now on, I guess Apollo still has two more games to try and flesh himself out ... lol but I also know fan reception of those two is not great, so my expectations there are minimal.

Overall

A really solid game that I enjoyed playing, though I can see why it's controversial and not some people's favourite, if they really loved the trilogy. I think it's debatable whether this was the best/only way to continue the series after AA3. And I am excited to read and write a billion 7 year gap fics now.

#ace attorney #aa4 spoilers #oodly plays AA #apollo justice: ace attorney

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thetriumphantpanda · 11 months

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Cruel Summer | Javier Peña (Chapter Five)

Series Summary | Javier Peña is back in Laredo, this time for good. He hadn’t banked on you still being there, especially not with a wedding ring on your finger. A complicated shared history and plenty of unresolved feelings between the two of you should make for an interesting summer.

Pairing | Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word Count | 5.2K (oooops, I got carried away)

Warnings | Descriptions of domestic abuse (not from our boi Javi), talk of injuries, infidelity, cheating, SMUT, oral (f receiving) and unprotected PiV sex (please don't do this, be smart and safe), mentions of alcohol, cigarettes, and pregnancy.

Authors Note | Thank you all for being so patience with me whilst I got my head back into writing this. This took me ages to figure out in my mind but I'm so proud of what I've managed to produce. I really appreciate hearing what y'all think of this series, comments and reblogs really do make my day with this - so if you enjoy it, let me know!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ethan is furious. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so angry before. He’d arrived home late last night from his business trip, falling into bed sometime past midnight. He’d tossed and turned for a while as you pretended to be asleep next to him before he turned over, pulled at your arm to turn you onto your back and then crowded on top of you. You’d let him because it was easier than denying him, but when he pushed himself inside of you all you could think about was Javier.

What would he do in this situation? You’d like to think he’d at least take some time to make sure you were enjoying yourself. Was he the type of man who would spend hours with his head between your thighs just because he liked the way his name fell from your mouth? You think he would be. Would he whisper sweet nothing’s into your ear in Spanish whilst he was buried deep inside you? God, you hoped so. By the time Ethan was spilling himself inside of you and rolling over, leaving you, as he always did, completely unsatisfied and feeling completely used, all your brain could focus on was the animalistic need to know exactly what Javier would do to you in bed.

Now, as Ethan stands in the kitchen, fuming after he found the wads of cash from your farmer’s market sale, all you wanted to do was run. Run from this pathetic life and into whatever it was that Javier could give you.

“I fucking told you I would get around to sorting it out!” He shouts at you, “And you had to go and completely disobey me! How does this make me look?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “Ethan, it’s been pushing one hundred degrees the entire time you’ve been away, I need that new AC unit because otherwise I’m going to die in that shop, and I think a little bit of embarrassment is better than admitting to the town that I’m dead because you couldn’t be bothered to fix it.”

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” He fumes, his skin flushing red, “I bet that asshole Peña had something to do with this.”

“Because now every time I do something you don’t like it has to involve him?” You raged, “Newsflash Ethan, I’ve been doing things you don’t like since before we got married, and that certainly had nothing to do with Javier and everything to do with the fact you can’t stand me.”

“Did he have anything to do with it?”

You don’t know why you don’t lie in this moment. Maybe it would have been easier, less of an argument to deal with, but you can’t help yourself, “Maybe he did.”

“I fucking knew it!” Ethan slams his fist down on the kitchen counter, “That asshole, trying to worm his way into my family, walking around this fucking town like he’s some sort of king because he took down Escobar,” You can’t help yourself but think that you might actually be able to see steam coming out of his ears soon, “And you!” He’s pointing a finger at you as he rounds the counter, “How many times do I have to tell you to stay the hell away from him, or are you just too fucking stupid to understand me?”

It all happens at once. You’ve slapped him hard across the face and in this moment, you can’t tell which of you is more surprised. He’s stood inches away from your face with a look in his eyes that has panic settling in your stomach. He could kill you if he wanted to. It’s the first time you’ve thought he might, with his chest heaving and his eyes like daggers. You’re scared.

“How. Fucking. Dare. You.” He spits out into your face, he’s got wide hands placed around the tops of your arms and before you know it your back is pressed against the wall, he’s squeezing the skin so hard that you’re crying out, “Someone needs to teach you some fucking respect.”

If you weren’t so frightened, you’d have some stupid retort about the fact that it certainly couldn’t be him, because even with a ring around your finger you could never respect this man in front of you, but you keep your mouth shut.

“Ethan please,” You whimper, “Please let me go, you’re hurting me.”

“Oh, I’m hurting you, am I?” He jeers into your face, squeezing his hands around your arms even harder, “You should have thought about that before you fucking slapped me, stupid girl.”

He pulls you back from the wall slightly before slamming you backwards again, the force of it causing the back of your head to hit the wall behind you, “You better lose the attitude or I will take us so far away from this place you’ll never see your stupid friends or your precious Javier Peña again, do you understand me?”

You nod, sniveling through your tears, then he finally lets your arms go and steps away from you, “Get out of my fucking sight.”

You don’t waste any time in doing just that, stopping just long enough to grab a thin cardigan and your car keys before your hurtling to your car with nowhere really to go. Your immediate thought is Javier, but it’s the middle of the day and he’ll be out helping Chucho on the ranch. You don’t think you can bare the heat of the shop, or the fact that you might have to interact with a customer, so that’s out too. There’s only one person left – Gabriela. There’s an internal battle you’re having with yourself, she’s so close to having her baby that you don’t want to intrude on her, but she’s the only person you can think of who will know what to do right now.

You’re not really sure how you manage to make it to her house unscathed with the amount of tears that are dropping from your eyes and the way your hands are shaking, but you’re pulling up in front of her house in no time.

“Good God alive, what on earth is the matter?!” She exclaims when she opens the door, pulling you into a hug, protruding belly crushed between you.

“Oh Gabriela everything’s gone so wrong and I don’t know what to do.” You cry, sniffing into her shoulder, you pull away and briefly apologise for getting her shirt wet, to which she gives you a look that says ‘don’t be so fucking stupid’ before she’s ushering you inside.

She waddles in front of you, clearly uncomfortable, and sternly tells you to sit at the breakfast bar whilst she boils some water to make tea. In no time at all there’s a steaming mug placed in front of you, and she’s sat herself down on the chair next to you with her own mug.

“So, where do we start?” She’s coaxing you, hand holding your own.

“I’m fucking miserable Gabs,” You speak softly, “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” She scoffs, “What’s he done this time?”

“He found the money,” You’re looking into the amber liquid of the green tea in front of you, “Lost his mind that I’d done it without him, got cross because it was Javi’s idea and then told me to get out and leave him alone.”

“Did he hurt you?” She asks, “And I swear if you lie to me once more about this, I’m actually going to lose my mind.”

You nod, it’s small, but she catches it, and you can hear the inhalation of breath, “But it was my fault, I slapped him first.”

“Did you slap him first all the other times he’s clearly hurt you?” You shake your head this time, “Show me.” She’s asking.

You slowly slip the cardigan off your arms. You look down and there are perfect red welts on your skin where Ethan’s fingers had been digging into your arm earlier. No doubt in time they’d bruise, “Jesus fucking Christ.” Is Gabriela’s response.

“I’m sorry Gabs, I didn’t wanna burden you with this I promise, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You think this is a burden to me?” She’s imploring, catching your eyeline when you try to look away, “Cielito, this is nothing like a burden, it’s a bloody relief, I’ve been wanting you to tell me this for years.”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, dumbass, all those times you cancelled on me last minute and disappeared for days? You had to be hiding something, and the longer you’ve been with him the longer I’ve known he’s a horrible man – doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

“What do I do, Gabs?”

“Only you can answer that question, but that,” She points to your arms, “That’s assault, so you can go to the police, and then there’s always divorce.”

“I don’t want to be with him anymore, but I can’t do this on my own Gabriela, I’m so fucking scared, he’s got everything, he’s going to take everything, I won’t have my shop anymore, I’ll be homeless, where do I even start?”

Gabriela bites at her lip whilst she thinks, “You won’t have to do this alone, I promise you,” She’s got your hand clutched in hers again, “Can you give me a few weeks?” She’s asking, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but let me get this gremlin out of me first, and then I promise we’ll get you out, okay?”

You nod in agreement because it’s more than you thought you’d get. The idea of freedom could surely see you through the next couple of weeks, “If it gets too bad then you let me know and we’ll sort something out, I promise, okay?”

She’s hugging you then, the kind of bone crushing hug that only she would be capable of, and you can feel yourself crying again. What on earth had you done to deserve her?

“I’ll get out of your hair soon, but can I borrow your phone really quickly?” You ask.

“Of course, I need to use the bathroom again anyway, so I’ll give you some space.”

Once she’s out of earshot, you’re dialing the number that you’d had memorized since high school, even with his years of absence. After a few rings someone picks up on the other end.

“Hi, Chucho, it’s me.”

“Ahhh Mija, how are you today?”

“I’m well thank you, how about you?”

“Not too bad thank you, just come inside to beat the midday heat for a while.”

“Ah yes,” You smile, you’ve always loved the sound of Chucho’s voice, calm and stoic, reminding you of your own father, which is probably why you like it so much, “I hope you’ve got plenty of ice-cold lemonade,” You bite at the side of your thumbnail, “Is Javi there?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t sound like you’re trying to get rid of him too soon.

“He is, let me just pass you over.”

There’s the sound of shuffling on the other end of the phone and you can hear Chucho telling Javi it’s you on the other end, then there’s silence before he’s speaking.

“Hola querida,” God his voice is like butter, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You reply quietly, “I just wanted to hear your voice, I hope you don’t mind me calling in the middle of the day.”

“I wouldn’t mind you calling in the middle of the night, querida, don’t worry,” You can hear him drinking someone on the other end of the phone, “You sure you’re okay?” He asks again.

“I was wondering if I could see you tonight?” You ask meekly, not wanting to make yourself a burden to another person today.

“You can,” He’s replying, “Where?”

“Can I come to you?”

You can hear him shuffling a little on the other end of the phone, you can hear the shifting of paper, he must be looking at the calendar that’s hanging near the phone – his mother had insisted on it when she was still alive, and Chucho makes sure there’s a new one there every January 1st.

“Yes,” He replies softly, “Pops has a poker game in town tonight according to the calendar, he should be gone by seven, is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m happy with whatever is best for you, I’ll see you then.”

“Alright, querida, take care and I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Javi.” You whisper softly before you’re hanging up the phone.

You put the phone back on the receiver and rub your hands over your face, trying to ignore the pooling of nerves in your tummy. If Gabriela could sense all these years that something was off, then there’s no doubt that Javi will know as well. He’s the most perceptive man you’ve ever met. The dull ache of Ethan’s fingerprints on your arms were ever-present now, there was no way you’d be able to hide them from him.

“You can stay here for a while if you want,” Gabriela’s voice calls from the living room, “I would only be folding baby clothes on my own.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon helping Gabriela like she suggested, folding baby clothes, setting out diapers and toiletries in the bathroom and eating her famous enchiladas for dinner. Diego comes home sometime after five, giving you a hug, before he’s pulling out two beers which you enjoy with your friends in their back garden. The sun is setting and it’s nearing six in the evening when you bid them both farewell.

“Please let me know if you need us, okay?” Gabriela whispers into your hair as she hugs you goodbye, “There’s isn’t a thing in this world that would stop us from helping you.”

You bite back tears before you nod your head, giving Diego a similar hug, before you’re hopping in your car and driving out of town towards the Peña ranch.

It doesn’t take as long as you’d anticipated but when you drive up you can see there’s only one truck parked outside which means Chucho must have already left for the evening. Javier is stood on the porch before you’ve stepped down from the truck. You make sure the cardigan you’d worn was buttoned up before you head over to him.

“Evening, querida.” He speaks softly, dipping his head to kiss you on the cheek.

Before he can fully pull away, you’ve got a hand on the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours. His hands weave around your waist and you wrap your other arm around his neck to press your body more firmly to his own before you’re pulling away from him, breathless.

“Evening to you too.” You smile, and it’s genuine. This man has done nothing but make you happy since he came back.

“You want a drink?” He asks, giving your waist a squeeze, “I bought that wine you used to like drinking, although thinking about it now we were young so your tastebuds have probably matured.”

You giggle and follow him inside, “They definitely haven’t, is it the white one that we used to drink out of the bottle against the tree?”

He nods as he leads you to the kitchen, dipping into the fridge to pull it out. It is indeed the exact same brand of wine you’d get drunk on together when he was still around, “You want a glass, or shall we drink it like old times?”

“Old times,” You reply with a smile as he undoes the screw top, “Can we sit outside?”

He’s taking the first swig from the wine, pulling the same face he used to all those years ago, as he motions for you to head out to the back porch. You always loved this ranch at dusk. The way the sun set and bathed everything in gentle orange light, the fact there was no noise from the town to distract you, the sound of the crickets chirping. It was peaceful.

Javi settles onto the bench, and you sit across from him, he leans his arm across the back of the bench and moves his head to tell you he wants you closer, so you shift your body to lean against his chest, head placed on his shoulder. You hope he doesn’t catch the discomfort when you lean too hard onto your arm and shift slightly, but if he does, he’s not mentioned it, instead, he’s passing you the wine which you take a drink from.

“You sounded upset on the phone, querida, are you sure you’re okay?”

You take another drink before you pass it back to him, “Ethan came home last night,” You’re speaking as you look into the distance, “Guess I just realized how much I enjoy it when he’s away.”

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, bringing his hand to your arm to squeeze him into his side, it’s stings as he grips to the sore skin from earlier, but you think you manage to play it off, “What can I do to help?”

He takes a long drink of the wine and then hands it back to you, watching intently as you do the same before you place the half-empty bottle on the floor, “Just kiss me Javi,” You speak, “Make me forget about it for a while.”

“You want me to just kiss you, querida?” He asks, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “Or do you want more?”

You shift to look him in the eye, “I want it all Javi,” You lean up to press a chaste kiss to his lips pulling away before he can take more, “I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

He untangles himself from you and stands up before he stretches out his hand for you take, he must see the confusion on your face because he’s talking again, “If you’ve been waiting then I’m not going to fuck you on the porch, querida, come on.”

You slip your hand into his and then he’s dragging you through the house and up the stairs. He opens the door to his room, which you don’t really take in, he’s motioning his hand for you to sit on the bed, which you do.

He walks over to you and pushes your chin up with one of his fingers. He’s looming over you and if this was anyone else it would make you feel uncomfortable, but he’s looking at you like you were about to give him the world, before he’s leaning down and pressing his lips softly to your own. In the back of your mind you can feel him unbuttoning the front of your cardigan, it’s a relief because it’s so fucking warm in here, he’s pulling back from your mouth to push it off and then he stops. He’s not pulled it all the way off, the material bunching in the crook of your elbow because he’s seen. He’s seen the marks on your arms. Perfect red indentations of fingertips.

He's kneeling in front of you now, between your thighs, as he takes one arm in his hand, “Did he do this to you?”

“Javi please…” You beg him.

“Did he do this to you?” He asks again, slower and with a register that tells you he isn’t messing around, you nod at him, “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

He’s standing like he’s going to get in his car and do it. You grab at his wrist, “Javi please, don’t,” You pull him back to you, “It was my fault.” You say softly, just like you had to Gabriela.

“This?!” He’s back on his knees again, clutching at your arm, “This is never your fault, do you understand me?” He’s looking into your eyes again, then he softens, “It doesn’t matter what you did, you don’t deserve this.”

“Please, will you just come back to me,” You plead, taking his face in your hands, “I need to forget him, just for tonight.”

In the back of his mind he knows it’s not right, it’s just a distraction, and all he really wants is to know what’s going on, but the way your eyes are pleading with him, he can’t say no, “Only if you promise to talk to me after?”

“I promise.” You reply almost immediately, and then he’s crowding you, he’s settling between your thighs but this time his lips are on yours and it’s overwhelming.

You widen your legs as your mouth opens to him, tongues mixing together. You can taste the cheap wine and the cigarettes he swears he’s trying to give up on. He can taste a sweetness he’s never felt before when he’s kissed a woman. It fast and it’s messy, and you don’t understand why you’re moaning into his mouth when he’s not really touched you. Without breaking the kiss, he’s moving, you’re pushed back onto the bed and he’s settled between your thighs, and then he’s pulling his mouth from yours to trail hot, wet kisses over your throat.

God, he wants to sink his teeth into your skin. Wants to mark you so that when you go home, he knows, knows that there’s someone out there who’s going to cherish you until his dying breath, going to protect you from men like him. He knows better, knows that you’ll be going home alone and any mark on your body would mean more marks from him, and Javi doesn’t think he can bare the fact that it’ll be his fault, so he sticks to kisses. He can feel your hands on his shoulders, sinking in through the material of his shirt and he wants more.

He's pushing himself back from you, taking a moment to take his shirt off before his attention is back at you. You’re spread out on his bed, hair splayed out underneath you and the look in your eyes almost makes him cry. It’s admiration, that he’s sure of, but there’s something else in your eyes too, maybe it’s lust, maybe it’s happiness, he doesn’t know, but he isn’t sure a woman has ever looked at him like that.

“God you’re beautiful, Javi.” You whisper as he leans back down to you.

The feeling of your cool hands on his hot skin electrifies him, and he can feel his hands working your tank top up to expose the skin of your tummy. You lift yourself up a little so he can take it all the way off before he continues the trail of his lips over your collarbone and down between the dip in your breasts. He’s gently moving the straps of your bra down and takes the opportunity to undo the clasp at the back when you arch up into him. It’s discarded to the floor without a second thought and then his mouth is on you again.

He uses the flat of his tongue to run hot stripes over your peaked nipple, whilst his fingers take the other peaked bud and starts rolling it between them. A whine drops from your lips, and you can feel him smiling into your skin and you arch up into him. He’s taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking and then using the tip of his tongue to run circle around it and all your head can think is how much you want his mouth doing just this further down your body.

“You tell me what you like, querida,” He mumbles into your skin, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Your mouth,” You breathe out, head thrown back as he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth, “I need… fuck… I need it lower, Javi.”

He’s lifted his lips from your tits and you’re moving your head to meet his eyes and he genuinely looks hungry. Like a man starved, with a smirk splayed across his lips, “You want me to eat your pussy, hmm?”

He’s pushed himself back on his knees and for a split second before he’s pulling at your shorts to take them off, you can see he’s half-hard under his own denim. You’ve barely touched him, and this is how he is? It’s got pride swelling in your chest.

He makes quick work of your shorts, throwing them to the ground along with your underwear. He takes a second to look at you, spread out and bare for him, and he thinks that if he died right now, he would die a happy man having seen you like this. He takes his thumb and runs it gently along the seam of your pussy, watching as your eyes close and you let out a breath.

Javi stands briefly before he’s dropping to his knees on his floor. His hands are on either side of your hips, dragging you forward. He pulls you with such force that you bump your thigh into his face, but he’s not complaining. You expect him to tease you, but it turns out that he’s been waiting just as long as you have for this. He wastes no time in using the entire flat of his tongue to lick a hot, wet stripe from the bottom of your pussy to the top, which has an obscene moan dropping from your lips. He could listen to you make those noises for him all fucking day.

One of his hands moves from your hips, he uses it to spread your pussy before he makes the same motion with his tongue as before but focusing its entirety on your clit. You think you might see stars. Once he’d started, he doesn’t stop. Spurred on by the obscenity dropping from your lips like, fuckjavi that’s so fucking good, and please don’t stop, he’s eating your pussy like it’s his death row meal. He’s lapping at the slick that gathers at your entrance, he’s suckling on your clit, or flicking it with the tip of his tongue, but it’s when he pushes two of his thick fingers inside you that you’re truly coming undone.

You’re bucking your hips up into his mouth, grinding down on his fingers and then it’s all coming undone with that bright burst of pleasure you hadn’t felt in years. You can feel your pussy clenching around his fingers, and you can hear him suckling your clit through the aftershocks as your legs shake around his head. He slips his fingers out of you and finishes with one chaste kiss to your clit before he’s pulling at your arm to sit you up.

You’re jelly until he kisses you. You can taste yourself on his mouth, sweet and sour with the mix of his cigarettes and it’s intoxicating. You can feel his slick fingers on your thigh as he uses it as a crutch to push himself off the floor. When he stands, his groin is right in your eyeline and now he’s not half-hard. Fuck, he’s bulging. You watch as his hands undo his belt and tear it through the loops of his jeans before he’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans right in front of your face. He steps back a little to let the remainder of his clothes pool on the floor, but then he’s stepping out of them and back towards you and you can’t help but reach out and take his cock in your hand.

You look up at him, head thrown back with his eyes closed in pleasure. Your name drops from his lips as you continue working him with your hand, you’re just about to take him into your mouth when he speaks, “How do you want me?”

It’s a crime that he’s making you choose because fuck, you want him in every way. You want him to fold you in half and pound into you, you want him to take you from behind whilst he uses his fingers on your clit, you want him to wake you up in the morning with kisses to your neck whilst he buries himself inside you from the side.

“Can I ride you?” You ask quietly.

“Querida, there’s a gun downstairs,” He speaks, settling himself down on his bed on his back, before he’s guiding you to straddle his hips, “If I ever say no to that, I want you to use it on me, okay?”

You’re laughing, because it’s dramatic, but it cuts the tension with a knife. You’re both still laughing to each other when you’re shifting your hips and using your hand to line him up with your tight heat. He’s big, there’s no beating around the bush here, and as you sink down slowly onto him, his hands on your hips to guide you, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so full.

You’re throwing your head back and breathing out his name as he bottoms out, hearing a similar moan from him as you start grinding your hips. He’s using his hands on your hips to guide you and the friction inside of you in addictive. You think if you could spend the rest of your days like this then you would give up everything to do so.

“Fuck, hermosa, you look fucking incredible like this.” Javi purrs from underneath you, it makes your heart swell because no-one ever said things like this to you before.

You continue to grind against him until he’s holding your hips still and bringing his knees up, settling them against your backside. He lifts you up a little off his cock, with a strength you’d never witnessed before, and then he’s fucking up into you, cock punching as deep into you as you think you can take it, his balls slapping against your ass.

“Ohmygod, fuck Javi,” You’re squealing, putting your hands on top of his knees to keep you steady, “I think you’re… oh god… I think you’re gonna make me cum again.”

You look down and he’s looking up at you, grinning like a devil, because he’s got you so close to the edge, cock hitting a spot within you that feels like heaven and hell mixed into one, “Go on, querida, come for me.”

His husky voice is what does it. You’re clenching down on him as you call out his name. His hands on your hips keeping you upright as dark spots cloud your vision, “God, what I wouldn’t give to hear that every second of the day.” He groans as he flips you onto your back in one smooth move.

He’s still buried deep inside you, one hand brushing sweat-soaked hair from you face, the other gripping to your ass as he lifts your hips to meet him. He’s slowed but you can tell from the way his hips stutter into your own that he’s close.

“Where do you want me?” He whispers into your ear.

Everywhere, is what you want to say. Paint me, cover me, mark me as yours, is all you can think. What you say is, “Wherever you want.”

You think you see his mouth open to answer you, but it’s too late. He’s pulling out of you, fisting his cock two, three times, and then he’s painting your skin with his spend. Thick ropes of cum cover your tummy as he's growling into your ear, collapsing next to you when he’s given you everything he’s got.

When you lie there next to him, his cum drying on your abdomen, his mouth still kissing at the skin of your neck, you think you should feel guilty. Guilty that you broke your vows, guilty that you’ve let a man other than your husband touch you. Guilty that you did so without a second thought. Guilty that he didn't once cross your mind. There isn’t an ounce of guilt within you. You lean into his kisses and thank the Lord for bringing him back, for bringing him back to you, because you know this right here? This is happiness.

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