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wheelsnipecelebrini · 3 days

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Generally speaking, I’m fascinated by how narratives around athletes are built. Some of the basic models are: Well He Loved It So Much So We Never Pushed Him He Is Just Like This vs. We Built This Phenom From The Ground Up With Our Genius Guidance.

Connor Bedard pretty firmly falls in the former camp (take a shot every time his parents are quoted saying their son is effectively a Terminator with hockey-playing software installed). Macklin Celebrini is definitely more in the “I, his father, handcrafted him into a more bespoke sports robot”; there’s been a lot of attention on his dad’s career as VP of player health and conditioning in the NBA’s Golden State Warriors org being a cornerstone of Macklin’s development.

I also generally have interest in the mechanics and minutiae of injuries and rehab. Anyone who’s rehabbed a serious injury can probably relate. Anyway, all this media is catnip to me, so, here, have a Rick Celebrini media roundup, focused on the last few years as draft buzz around Macklin increased.

ESPN | What makes Macklin Celebrini the next big thing in hockey

Rick helped Macklin and his siblings -- brothers Aiden, 19; RJ, 12; and sister, Charlie, 15 -- along each of their athletic journeys, where he balanced the line between trainer and dad.

"When they're working out, I tell them there has to be a professionalism to your approach and what you do. And that's when I'm not Dad," Rick said. "But in their times when they're vulnerable, then I become Dad, and I'll always be Dad."

…

"When Rick first got [to Golden State] his kids would be running up and down the court playing pickup 3-on-3, with the whole family, Robyn too," [Golden State Warriors head coach] Kerr said. "It's so funny seeing them as kids and then all of a sudden, you find out the two older boys are big-time hockey players.

"And then I started to really ask Rick more about his kids and what they were doing. Then there's little Charlie, the tennis player. And then I realized, Rick's cooking something up in his house. ... He's just churning out athletes over there."

…

There's a reason the Warriors wanted to support Rick. He's been crucial to their culture and success.

"He's one of the best human beings I know, and that's straight from the heart," [Golden State Warriors head coach] Kerr said. "He's got this great combination of emotional intelligence and technical knowledge of his field and humor and authority. The players see him every day, and so for us it means so much that he's one of the first people they see and feel, and he just sets an incredible tone."

[Golden State Warriors player Draymond] Green called Rick "a giver."

"He gives his time, he gives his energy, he gives his effort," Green said. "He's a magician when it comes to the body. He's a magician when it comes to the mind. He is our secret weapon and he's an incredible father. He's an incredible man."

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Sharks on NBCS | 08 May 2024

Rick Celebrini: I’ve said this a number of times, you know, he was born to be a hockey player, as much as I tried to convince him into other sports or other activities, he always gravitated to being a hockey player.

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The Athletic: Inside what may be Macklin Celebrini’s final days of BU hockey: Shoe Check, heartbreak, and a big decision

Plenty of college coaches reached out to Macklin. Pereira was the first to call Rick, who was in the 2022 NBA Finals with the Warriors against the Boston Celtics at the time. Pereira left a voicemail:

“Rick, this is Joe Pereira from Boston University. Before I go any further, I want to let you know I’m not a Celtics fan. I know you’re flying into town. I want to talk to you about your boys.”

Rick soon replied via text: “LOL. I’ll give you a call later.”

The next day, Rick met with Pandolfo and his staff. When the Warriors traveled to Boston for Game 6, the Celebrini boys came along.

…

Rick believes his son can see the bigger picture with this future-changing decision. He has been open to insight from his support system, including family, advisers with CAA (like Pat Brisson and Matt Williams) and coaches.

“Me and (Warriors coach) Steve Kerr talk about this all the time,” Rick said. “There’s a value to being patient and developing at a level that’s more conducive to development. The NHL is not a developmental league. The NBA is not a developmental league. You’re either ready or you’re not. But college hockey is more conducive to that with the schedule, the work in the weight room and practice schedule.”

…

“An Arizona scout called me and goes, ‘For what you do for a living, where would you say he is on his developmental curve?’” Rick recalled. “Honestly, he’s a puppy. He shaves once every couple weeks. He’s not even through puberty. He really is a kid, kid. He’s got a little bit of maturing and growing to do, just getting that thickness of a man’s body.”

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The Mercury News | How Warriors trainer’s son became NHL’s top draft prospect — and possibly Sharks’ future star

“I think it’s been massive for me,” Celebrini told this news organization. “Everything from injury prevention to different things to work on and understanding how an athlete works, the tolerance of an athlete — all that knowledge kind of displayed onto us, it all helped massively in our development.”

Rick isn’t a mad scientist. He never forced any of his children to play sports.

But here they are, elite athletes anyway: Macklin soon the top pick, Aiden already drafted by the Canucks, Charlize, 15, one of the top Canadian players her age, and RJ, the youngest with perhaps the most potential in the rink.

“It’s been around them their whole lives,” Rick said, “so I think they’ve just naturally gravitated to (sports).”

…

Much else was taught, though, by one of North America’s brightest sports medicine minds, including cross-sport exposure.

“I feel like soccer helped me in so many ways, even ways I didn’t really think about,” Macklin told this news organization. “Vision or spacing, just problem-solving. There’s so many benefits to playing different sports.”

After getting his PhD in physical therapy at the University of British Columbia and playing pro soccer, Rick worked three Winter Olympics — first as a physiotherapist for Canada’s Alpine Ski Team and then as the 2010 games’ chief therapist and medical manager. He became the Vancouver Whitecaps’ team physiotherapist and co-founded the Fortius Institute, where he worked with close friend Steve Nash. In 2018, he joined the Warriors and soon became one of the most respected members of the organization.

Rick brought his work home with him, too. When his kids were little, he’d create obstacle courses for them on playgrounds, “gamifying” physical activity. During a flight delay at the Orlando airport after a trip to Disney World, he set up a sprinting circuit for the kids in the terminal.

“You’re really trying to tease out multi-directional movement and cutting, change of direction, ducking under things and jumping over things,” Rick said.

Part of Rick’s PhD research was in motor skill acquisition. In layman’s terms: how to optimize movement. In Rick’s terms: building a young athlete’s “physical literacy.”

On beach vacations in Maui, Rick would lead his kids through sprints and hops in the sand. In another game, Rick would kick a soccer ball and have Macklin and Aiden race to retrieve it, critiquing their strides.

The Celebrini family’s unofficial motto is “What did you do today to get better?”

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The Warriors’ whisperer: If Golden State is to repeat, he’ll have a hand in it

“He just guided me through tough days,” [Golden State Warriors player Klay] Thompson said. “So many calf raises. So many days on the shuttle board. Then the HydroWorx? Pssh. If it wasn’t for Rick Celebrini, I wouldn’t be where I am today. That’s a fact.”

Celebrini doesn’t score points. He doesn’t make roster decisions. He doesn’t sign checks. Yet, owner Joe Lacob empowers him. President of basketball operations Bob Myers believes in him. Kerr listens to him. The team’s stars swear by him.

Celebrini might be the most powerful figure in the organization you don’t know. In many ways, the NBA’s most valuable franchise, while loaded with legendary figures and dynamic personalities, shifts on the acumen and decisions of this 55-year-old former soccer player from Canada.

“Coach is 1A,” Stephen Curry said, followed by a chuckle. “(Celebrini) might be 1B.”

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“I think that position is one of the three or four most important in the whole basketball operations department — especially considering that the players are the most important people,” Myers said of Celebrini’s role. “We have $360 million invested in our players and their health. So finding someone to navigate that, you can’t overstate that level of importance.”

The Warriors are certain they’ve found the right person in Celebrini. At 6-foot-1, he still has the shoulders of a center-back and the jawline of a hockey goon. But his ready smile and friendly disposition give an unassuming vibe. His allegiance to the background, his preference for existing beneath the championship fray, throws people off the scent. Inside the franchise, though, Celebrini is a pivotal figure.

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On the same night that Thompson returned from his 941-day absence — a milestone for Celebrini’s rehab process — Green felt tightness in his left calf in pregame warmups. He stopped his routine short, went into Celebrini’s office and gave him a heads up.

“All right, we’re going to get an MRI on your back,” Celebrini said.

‘No, but Rick, my calf is tight,” Green insisted.

“Yeah,” Celebrini said. “Let’s just MRI your back.”

Celebrini was right. The MRI revealed a disc injury in Green’s lower back. A nerve problem was causing weakness in his left calf.

“He knew right away,” Green said. “He’s blown my mind.”

Several athletes who have dealt with Celebrini say his ability to figure out the source of a persistent problem is key to his treatment process. He’s like Dr. House for athletes.

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Curry immediately noticed Celebrini’s attention to detail and the creativity of his approach. Nine days later, the Warriors were in Dallas. Celebrini and Carl Bergstrom — then the Warriors’ director of performance — put Curry through a pregame workout he describes as one of the hardest he’s ever done. It involved a wall, a BOSU ball and 100 single-leg squats.

In between the 10 sets of 10 squats, Curry and Celebrini essentially … slow-danced?

“Basically, it’s like a ballet dance,” Curry said, “where you simulate real-life game movements, but you do it at such a slow, methodical speed. So it’s training your neurological system to be like, ‘I remember the pattern of these moves,’ even though you’re not going full speed. It was so methodical, but he was locked into every single set. And that’s when I knew, like, I was getting stronger in the process of healing and I was gonna come back ready to go.

…

Celebrini became interested in sports medicine as a teenager, after he fractured his ankle playing soccer. He did his rehab with Alex McKechnie, who was also treating professional athletes, and Celebrini was intrigued.

He played college soccer at Capilano University for his first two years. He transferred to the University of British Columbia in 1987, playing five seasons at the school and winning four consecutive Canadian soccer championships. He also played for Canada’s under-20 national team in the 1987 FIFA World Youth Championship and eventually defended for the Vancouver 86ers of the American Professional Soccer League.

After graduating, Celebrini began pursuing his career in sports medicine while playing professionally. His career on the pitch was constantly hampered by injuries, including multiple ACL tears. But his career in sports medicine was ascending. In 2010, Celebrini served as the manager of medical services and chief therapist for the entire Winter Olympics. In 2011, he was hired as the team’s physiotherapist by his former professional club, which became the Vancouver Whitecaps.

In 2013, Celebrini was a co-founder of the MultiSport Centre of Excellence in his hometown of Burnaby, British Columbia. The $54 million facility became an epicenter of elite sports medicine. It is from this post that Celebrini consulted and worked with athletes in the NBA and NHL.

…

[W]hen Green was recovering from a back injury that knocked him out of action for more than two months. Green said his rehab required relearning how to walk and run. Celebrini promised Green he would get him healthy as long as he committed to the process. Green did and Celebrini was by his side the entire way. He made the hour-plus drive from home to Chase Center to work with Green and often spent at least three hours per session in the weight room with him.

It was a brutal process, as mentally grueling as it was physically. Green remembers how Celebrini did every step of the work himself instead of delegating some of the work to his staff. Even during the 2022 All-Star break, when Green went to Cabo San Lucas, Celebrini went with him.

“I remember one day he needed to go see his son,” Green said. “He was in tears that he had to leave. We were in L.A. He was like, ‘I’m gonna go see Mack.’ He was in tears. He went for a day, came back and locked back in with me the next day. That might be the only day in the whole time that I did not see him.”

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The Athletic | How NBA superstars showed the NHL’s next top prospect the way

The next day, Macklin underwent an MRI that revealed a significant injury, a partial posterior labrum tear. An orthopedic surgeon recommended immediate surgery.

“I’m thinking it’s my second game of the year and my season is pretty much done,” [Macklin] says. “I’m facing a six-month recovery and my year is over. All of this work for two games, and now I have to rehab my whole shoulder.”

That’s when Dad entered the picture. “He called me in tears,” Rick says. “I consulted with a couple of colleagues and people I knew.” Their consensus: Skip the surgery for now. Opt for rehab.

“So I was out for two weeks, rehabbed it, got it strong enough and stable enough to play,” Macklin says.

…

A subsequent MRI revealed that the once partial posterior labrum tear was now complete. The injury was now classified as severe and surgery was unavoidable.

Macklin’s surgery was conducted in Vail, Colo., by Dr. Peter Millett, a shoulder specialist who has operated on several NHL-level players, including Montreal Canadiens defender Arber Xhekaj last summer.

The surgery went well, but as Rick and Macklin settled in for a lengthy summer of rehab, doubts emerged.

Rick would say later it was the “most pressure I’ve ever felt working through an injury with a player.”

Helping top athletes recover and rehabilitate from injury is his profession, honed over years with teams in Vancouver and from 2018 with the Golden State Warriors of the NBA. But with his own son, he wondered: “Should I get someone else to do this with Macklin?”

“When it’s your son, with the emotional piece, and going into his big draft year, there was an element of stress and anxiety,” he says. “Once the dust settles and you focus on the task at hand, that’s when each day has its objectives, and you just execute on them.”

…

Rick and Macklin spent a large part of the summer of 2023 together.

On the Celebrini family ranch in Northern California, where they moved after Rick joined the Warriors, Macklin worked diligently to rehab his shoulder under his father’s watchful eyes.

Rick, the team’s director of sports medicine and performance, has been a leader in his field for years. He worked with the Canadian men’s Alpine ski team at the 1994 and 2002 Winter Olympics, served as medical manager and chief therapist during the 2010 Winter Olympics and was the director of rehabilitation for the Vancouver Canucks of the NHL (from 2014-18) and the Vancouver Whitecaps of MLS (from 2011-18).

…

[Macklin] said his dad helped him anticipate and endure the hard days. “He was clear to me, ‘This is a challenge you’ve never faced before, and it’s going to be difficult,’” Macklin says. “And … he kept telling me, ‘It’s going to heal.’ That was something I had in the back of my mind the whole time, like, ‘Yeah it’s sore, but it’s going to get better. Eventually it’ll be back to full strength and back to normal.'”

Rick spoke from experience. He had worked with Kevin Durant while he recovered from his torn Achilles tendon injury. He had helped Klay Thompson return from his torn ACL. He was able to tap into those experiences, helping his son trust that those difficult days would pass.

“Early on when the objective was to reassure him, you draw on those anecdotes,” Rick says. “With the surgeon and the injury that he had, there was never a doubt that if he was comprehensive and worked at all elements of the rehab of his shoulder and the rest of his body … that he would come back stronger.

“I was able to give him real life examples and that helps when it isn’t just encouraging words from his dad.”

San Jose Hockey Now | Rick Celebrini Pulling for Sharks to Draft Macklin Celebrini

Sheng Peng: Rick, you’re a soccer guy…even represented Team Canada in your youth…and your wife, Robyn, also a college soccer player. Yet all three of your sons are hockey players and your daughter is a tennis player.”

Rick: Yeah, we failed miserably. [laughs] I thought we had a chance of at least one of them becoming a soccer player.

TSN | Macklin Celebrini shares a special connection to Draymond Green and the Golden State Warriors

Draymond Green: He is someone that is invaluable to us. He keeps guys on the floor, and when guys aren’t on the floor, he puts plans together to make sure guys are firing on all cylinders. A guy you can go talk to and confide in, that’s who Rick is to this team.

Rick Celebrini: I truly feel a commitment to the players, to look after them as athletes but [also] as human beings, and I don’t say that lightly. It really drives not only what I do, but how I do it, these days.

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Rick Celebrini: I have, at different times, challenged them: if you really love this, if you have a passion for it, let me help you get to the pinnacle of that sport.

Aiden Celebrini: He was our dad, but he was also our director of player health and performance. “What’s your plan today? What are you doing to get better today?” That was his philosophy with us growing up.

…

Steve Kerr: We joke a bit with Rick. Do the kids really need to hear that every single moment? Can you just watch a movie one night? There’s no doubt, he treats his kids just like he treats his players.

Robyn Celebrini: What Rick would tell [Macklin] is: this is what it takes. You can’t do what everyone else is doing and expect to achieve greatness. Most people just see the glory, but a lot of people forget about all the hard work that goes into those moments.

Macklin Celebrini: He’s serious. When it’s time to work, it’s time to work. I like that, I respond to it.

Rick Celebrini: I mean, it’s a tough life. I think he understands it’s necessary for him to achieve his defined goals.

#macklin celebrini #rick celebrini #princessology #media roundup #web-weaving

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goldsbitch · 1 day

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Hypochondria

part 3 to p1, p2

It's time to tell you exactly what makes me your soulmate. Disaster dinner continues.

20:19

Is it possible to miss someone you've never met? In what strange corner of the universe would this make sense? It felt just like that to Lando - as if he just reunited with an old friend and desperately searched for a way how to connect again. Where to start?

Anita solved that one for him. "Y//N is one of the medics on grid. She was so lovely today. Helped me a lot!" She turned to Lando and then Y/N in a search of some reaction, but those two were stuck in their own silence. She brushed it off and continued. "I figured it would be nice to take her out for a dinner. Wanted to have her join for the club later, but I am afraid it's for invited only, sorry..." she said, with fake modesty. Lando scoffed, completely unbothered by anyone noticing. Anita was doing it again, luring people in and then making sure she nonchalantly pointed out that she is more "VIP" then they are. He usually brushed it of and sometimes found it funny, but this time it made him fuming.

"You are more than kind to do this," Y/N replied and Lando had to close his eyes in order to hide how overcome he was instantly by hearing her speak. Her own voice was always blurry in his visions. Hearing it now, in real life...It was like getting new headphones. "But remember, you should not drink today after the heatstroke...I just need to point that out, can't stop myself," she said semi jokingly.

"Oh course, sweetheart," she replied and took a sip of her cocktail.

Y/N felt a little out of her place in the restaurant, not really sure what she was doing there and why she agreed to come with them. They were a couple, so why was she there playing the third violin? She tried to stop all her intrusive thoughts about Anita's boyfriend. But how could she, the most gorgeous and alluring guy was sitting right there. She secretly watched all of his little moves, the way how he twitched his fingers while holding the menu and wondered how his skin would feel on her own. She cursed herself for being so easily distracted by him. Barely glancing at the menu, she waited for what the two would order and was planning on matching them.

A charming waiter came, shared few words with Anita and recommended some dishes from the special menu.

"I'll have the truffle pasta, sounds great," Anita said, smiling flirtatiously at the waiter. There was an awkward silence, which Y/N tried to fill in. "Yes, I'll have the same, sounds great."

Lando did not even think twice before speaking up. "Um, actually, I really think you should try their salmon. It's to die for. I think you'll love it." He was not able to look at her, while she did the exact opposite. She was taken back by his forward comment. Salmon was her absolute favorite dish. What a strange coincidence that he would recommend it. "Can we get two of the salmon dishes? If that's ok with you, Y/N," he continued, this time finding the courage to look at Y/N. She panicked. "Yeah, yeah. Salmon. Great."

It was like a fire was lit in Lando. He opened the can of worms and there was no way going back. Suddenly, he had all the answers right at arms lenght. And the questions just started flowing.

"How do you like working at the formula 1 medics team?" "Will you be tracking the whole season?" "Do you like traveling so much?" "Are you missing your friends and family?"

It might have been too much for someone to be bombarded with questions, but she found herself excited and eager to overshare. Those two danced a dance of their own, laughing gently and speaking over each other, while also eagerly listening to what the other one had to say.

Anita felt like she was sinking into the chair deeper with every minute that passed. She knew the feeling all to well. Lando, without knowing probably, found anyone apart her interesting. Practically inhaling every word Y/N said. Or at least that's how it felt. Poor girl had absolutely no idea how different this situation was for her this time. Unlike Lando, Y/N still took Anita into account.

"So, Anita, you're a model, right?"

She came back alive and started sharing model related stories, while Y/N listened. Ever-so-impatient Lando just stared at her and started biting his lip in order to stop him from speaking for a moment, realizing that he is in fact not alone with Y/N, but still in a very much public social setting. Y/N listened to Anita, while all familiar phantom pain kicked in, this time in her lips. She kept glancing over to Lando, because it was just too hard not to look at him, when she noticed how vigorously he was biting his own lip. It sometimes happened that her own inexplicable pain aligned with the actions of other. Nothing special.

Lando was at the peak of rude that evening, impatience getting the better of him. "So, Y/N, why have you decided to study medicine?" he said, when Anita took a breath, fully intending on continuing her story. The same way as he interrupted her, she did not give Y/N any room to answer.

"You know what Lando, I am getting real sick of you publicly making it obvious that you don't give a shit about me or what I have to say," she said straight to his face, internally begging for him to deny it.

"I'm sorry, it's just....not every day you meet someone who really does something special with their life," he said, as if Y/N was the first medic he had ever encountered.

"Wow, that's rich. So on top of you not caring what I have to say, you also don't think what I do is interesting."

Lando knew she was right. He knew it all along, but he was also aware of the fact that most of the times, the relationship had been beneficial to both of them. So many emotions mixing in him got him holding his fragile glass real tight.

"Don't play the innocent card," he started, looking deeply into Anita's eyes. "We both know the moment I'm not on the grid, you're jumping to someone else."

The walls felt like they were closing on Y/N. Witnessing couple's fight, however quiet, was never pleasant. All the more when you'd literally just met these people. They played their little verbal tennis, while keeping the decorum composed, as they seemed to be quite skilled at that. Until Lando slipped up. His tight grip on the thin crystal finally ending up with a thousand tiny shiny glass pieces everywhere. It was like a slap to the couple, making them wake up and notice their surroundings. The good old clean up and apology dance began between the guests and the waiters, all of them rushing to help the F1 star with a minor cut that bled crimson drops on the white table cloth. Everybody was so focused on him, that they all missed the second wave of drops hitting the table, this time coming from Y/N hand. She stared at her hand and time stopped. It's not that she was scared of blood. It wasn't that it was the first time something like that happened out of nowhere. It was precisely because it did not happen out of nowhere. Her veins were rushing with panic, instead of blood. She grabbed one of the napkins and pressed hard on her hand, praying that nobody had noticed. Thousands of ideas appearing out of nowhere. So wait, anytime he got hurt, she got hurt as well? Or was it more people? Another coincidence? Her brain was an analytical one. She ran through all the possible little pains that a formula driver could have. It somehow checked out.

She stared at him, completely missing the whole scenery happening in front of her. Anita making a scene, waiters rushing around and Lando trying to calm everyone down.

"When did you crash last time? Like a big one, hospital one," she shot out, as if it was the most important piece of information known to mankind.

Lando felt her panic and intensity for a few moments before she managed to silence everyone, but was equally surprised by her question as everyone else.

"Um, I'd say...yeah, Las Vegas, November." He gave her a questioning look, trying to figure out what was going on her mind, while gesturing the staff of the restaurant to leave them alone.

A massive wave of panic settled over her, images of herself getting admitted to a hospital at that time flashing by. She had to get out there, immediately. And Lando felt that.

"No! No, you're not going anywhere. This is important, you can't just run away like you always do," he said, before she even had a chance to move, because he knew what she was doing. Seen it enough times to recognize the look. If nobody stopped her, she'd be out of there in seconds, not even saying goodbye. A true flight type of person. As if she hadn't been perplexed enough by this point.

"How do you-" she started to ask before being interrupted by Anita, who had have enough.

"I'm sorry, but do you guys know each other?" she asked, with a tone of annoyance barely hidden behind a fake smile.

Lando froze once again, like he had many times that evening. It was not his fault. His soon-to-not-be girlfriend set this seventh circle of hell up. How was he supposed to respond to that?

Y/N hesitantly responded. "No, of course not. I mean, I've only worked with the team here for few weeks anyway."

"Seems like you do, by the amount of questions you're asking" Anita said directly at Lando, fully ignoring Y/N at that point.

"If I had known her, I would not have had to ask questions, right?" he responded, failing at letting his sassy side dormant.

"Is that why you never ask me any questions? Because you know me?"

He bit his tongue. Lando was trying to be good.

Anita made her signature "I knew it" smile once again, which finally set Lando off.

"One asks when they want to hear an answer."

"Great. Charming as ever. You know what? I've had enough."

"Ani, I am really sorry. This is going to sound incredibly rude. I apologize. It's nothing personal. But this is really between me and Y/N."

Absolutely mortified Y/N did not even dare to look at Anita. What the fuck was his game. That was his girlfriend, she was just a random girl.

Anita replied, without missing a beat. "You two can go and play your weird little game without me."

Heavy silence fell, as Anita hastily grabbed all of her things and walked out. Y/N was waiting to see if Lando would even consider getting up and rushing over to her, but knew well enough that that was not the case.

Lando cared. He deeply cared about what Y/N thought of him. "Before I say anything else, please know that I plan on breaking up with her and sorting it out like an adult. This is not how I usually am."

"Ok. I mean, you do you. This is all very...personal," she said, her mind still caught up in her recent discovery. "I'm sorry, this is going to sound strange, but bare with me, this evening is already so much drama, this will not be a great addition."

She was talking to him! Getting curious. Lando would be willing to sit there for hours and listen to her. "Go for it".

"Do you get that weird pain in your left elbow?"

"Yes, after a heavy work out."

"Do you bite your tongue out of nowhere?"

"Only when I'm nervous."

"Ok, ehm. Your wisdom tooth is growing, right?"

"Yup, and it hurts like hell sometimes." This time, it was her shooting questions and him trying to follow in a direction he could not yet fathom. But it was like she was in a trance.

"Ok, ok. You'll think I'm crazy."

"I know you think that," he smirked, knowing they were reaching break through.

"What?" she snapped out of it back to reality.

"You first. I think I also have something you should know." Lando was half excited, half terrified to get his truth out. After all those years, this was all happening in a matter of hours. His life was turning upside down.

Y/N took a deep breath. "The reason I went into medicine is because I have a condition. Random inexplicable pains, cuts, bruises with no real cause of correlation to what's happening with my body. Nobody knew what it was when I was growing up, so I was determined to figure it out on my own." She took out her own blood stained hand from below the table. Lando's eye's went wide. She reached out with her other hand to gesture him that all is fine and no help is needed.

"I think my body mirrors what happens to yours."

"I can feel your emotions. And see glimpses of your life," he blurted out, unable to hold this in for any longer.

They did not stay in the restaurant for long. Felt all to public for this type of conversation. Instead, they were back at his hotel apartment, having to sneak in to avoid any unwanted publicity. Once again, they were sitting opposite each other in his living room area.

"So wait...you feel everything I feel? Like physically?"

"Apparently," she said, flabbergasted. For some reason, the two emotions mixing with each other was anger and relief. Her biggest life mystery solved, in the weirdest way possible. Without saying a word, she kicked him in the shin.

"Ouch," he said and she flinched.

"Yep, checks out."

"I can feel your anger, you know? And frankly I don't understand why you're mad at the moment." He was fascinated. The possibilities that laid ahead of them were thrilling.

"I believe at this stage you should also be able to see my anger. Pray tell me why, why did you have to pick a career that is so physically exhausting!" she moaned, causing him to laugh out loud. Yeah, that was really unfortunate on his part. He made a note mentally to hire a physical therapist for her one day.

She calmed down a bit, slowly coming to term that her emotions were not a private thing anymore - well, technically they never were.

"So what, you just casually know what I feel and see random glimpses of my life?"

"I think it's the strong emotions I feel. It seems the closer I am, the stronger it is."

She was silent, hoping to get a little more out of him. He took a deep breath, desperately trying to ease up the mood.

"Your first nights at the university apartment you shared with those three loud girls. No idea about their names, but I remember the excitement about leaving your home. And jesus, the massive mess the four of you made the first week. How at one point you had to wash your dishes in the bathtub, because it was just too much. And how much fun you'd had while doing it."

She couldn't help but smile at that very specific memory. Gone were the unhinged early uni days, for better probably. It was absolutely breaking her mind in two, knowing he had these random glimpses in her life.

He saw (and felt) the positive emotions that entered the chat, so he tried to sway the conversation that way. "Oh, and the incredibly awkward morning when your brought that one guy home, did not realize that one of the girls was in the room the whole time and how in the morning it turned out to be her ex."

"My god, you saw that?" she said, absolutely mortified. He just nodded, his heart jumping when he made her squeamish.

"It was like being there during the incredibly awkward breakfast."

"Well," she gulped, trying to switch attention from her. "Nobody knows this, but...pain is not the only thing I feel."

She dropped the ball and watched it rolling, wondering if he'd catch up.

"What do you mean? Like exhaustion?"

"That as well."

He was still not connecting the dots.

"Had a fun night last night, didn't you?"

His eyes went wide and a strange rush of guilt washed over him. He just stared at her, finally getting why one of her first reactions was an angry one. Not that he felt that way, but the level of intrusion he must have presented to her was a lot to take in.

"Well...you're welcome, I guess?" he said cheekily, smirking because he knew exactly what she would do.

Shocked, she opened her mouth and smacked his hand jokingly, not realizing it would hurt both of them.

"Fuck this shit," she exclaimed and once again, he could not hold his laugh in as she tried to shake the pain out of her hand.

"This is going to be very funny."

"I'm sorry, Lando - this all just so bizarre. I'm barely taking it in. Literally don't understand how you're so calm."

He laughed gently. "Well, I did have few extra days to process. And hearing my name roll of your tongue is distracting enough," he said flirtatiously.

Her cheeks went red and her mind stopped, mind getting filled with desire and arousal. Lando lips turned into a wide smile, him feeling her arousal as if she was screaming it loudly to his face.

"Glad to see my words have an effect on you. This is indeed going to be fun..."

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narcoticv3nus · 3 days

Text

If I Wasn't So Fucked Up (I'd Fuck You All The Time) ღ higuruma hiromi

minors do not interact! | mdni!

summary: hiromi was not someone who sought intimacy or relationships, and he lacked experience with women. however, he ended up with a wonderful girlfriend, you. he tries to take care of you, but sometimes struggles with expressing his emotions. he is often busy, leaving you feeling lonely. he finds it difficult to come to terms with your unhappiness and does his best to make it up to you.

tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, no use of y/n, anxious!reader, crybaby!reader, reader has hair, mention of cigarettes, healthy relationship dynamic, self-indulgent, heavy smut, heavy fluff, pillow talk at the end, slight angst, hurt to comfort, makeup sex, mutual obsession, crying, talk about issues in relationships, p in v, foreplay, pet names ("darling", "baby", "love", "my love"').

wc: 5.8k

a/n: a character.ai bot i made inspired this piece! here is the link if you are interested.

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As Hiromi drags his feet through the front door, warm, ambient lighting and the aroma of a freshly cooked meal instantly greet him, hitting his nose. He then drapes his coat across a dining room chair before taking off his shoes, neatly placing them beside yours. He sighs in relief as you suddenly appear in front of him. You smile at him, but it doesn't meet your eyes. You reached up, softly undoing his tie while refusing to meet his gaze.

"Are you hungry?" You ask softly, flickering your eyes up at him as you place a hand gently on his chest. A small smile tugs at his lips as he gazes at you, his large, weary eyes taking in every tiny detail of your face. He can tell something is not quite right: you look tired and worn. And your usual loving warmth feels more far away. Still, you look just as beautiful as always.

“Yes,” he says quietly, a hint of exhaustion lingering. He raises a hand, running a few fingers through your curls as you undo his tie.

"Something smells good.", he adds before leaning in and kissing your head.

You pull away, pecking his lips before returning to the kitchen to prepare his plate.

As you retreat into the kitchen, Hiromi's gaze lingers, following your movements while he rolls his head on his shoulders. He makes his way to one of the dining chairs, taking a seat before he loosens the top buttons of his dress shirt. He finds his mind preoccupied after the workday, and his entire body feels physically heavy, but being in your presence puts him at ease - there’s no one else he’d rather spend his evenings with after work.

Placing his plate in front of him, you fill two glasses of wine before sitting next to him. You bite your lip hesitantly as you watch him take his first bite; your eyes are more absent than usual.

"Is it good?" You force out, eyes fluttering over towards him.

Hiromi takes notice of your distant expression and how your gaze is unfocused as you stare at him. A slight frown momentarily creases his brow, but he gives you a nod, a reassuring smile forming on his lips as he turns to look back at the food.

"It's wonderful. Thank you.", Hiromi replies in a low tone, his voice softened by exhaustion. Despite your far-off attitude, he lifts a piece of food onto his fork and takes another large bite.

"You're welcome." You respond, offering him a smile before a thick silence consumes the scene.

As the moment stretches, an uncomfortable silence takes over. The quiet ambiance of the room feels heavy with tension, and a sense of unease settles within Hiromi. He furrows his brow slightly before taking a sip from his glass of wine, his mind racing as the distance grows between you.

"Is everything alright?" he manages to ask, his voice soft and filled with concern. He places his fork onto his plate, turning fully towards you to decipher your expression.

As you look up at him, guilt seems almost to swallow you whole.

"No, no... I mean, yes! Everything's fine." You stammer, taking a sip of wine to hide your embarrassment.

"Just a long day..." You half-lie because, in truth, it was.

He looks into your eyes and sees you struggling to conceal your emotions. He reaches for your hand, gently holding it while rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. His expression is concerned but calm, and he squeezes slightly.

"Long day? Would you like to talk about it, love?" he asks softly, his voice a low rumble. Perhaps it's due to his exhaustion, but all he can focus on is the apparent strain on you - he can't ignore that something is weighing on your mind.

"It's fine..." You try to convince him (and yourself). Yet all you can focus on is the smoothness of his voice and the weight of his large hand encompassing yours. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed gentle circles into your skin. Concern draws his heavy brows together, and his eyes plead. You feel your body grow warm from your desires, the red wine sitting in your belly doing little to help.

"You're stressed and..." You start, your eyes fluttering over his face, taking in his handsome features. "I just don't want to put anymore onto you."

His expression remains concerned as he listens to you, and he squeezes your hand once more, silently reassuring you that he is willing to listen. He can practically hear the tension in your voice as you speak, making his chest ache. A part of him aches to know what's going on, but another part wants to pull you into his embrace and soothe you.

"If anything is bothering you...you can talk to me, love." He promises with a sweet kiss to your hand.

"I just... miss you." You admit weakly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes darting back down to your combined hands. You nervously begin fidgeting with his fingers.

"I rarely see you, and we haven't gone out in a while. You only come home when I'm asleep most of the time, and then you leave again before I wake up. We haven't... done it either." You feel your face grow hot in embarrassment and guilt, but it feels good to get it out finally.

His heart clenches at your words. He wants to hold you, pull you close in his arms, and bury his face in your hair. He can practically feel the hurt in your voice, which makes him hurt, too, but he grips your hand instead.

"You're right.", he begins softly, his voice filled with guilt and regret. "I...I have been working almost non-stop this month, and I promise you there's nothing I'd rather do than spend more time with you. I'll try harder, I'll do better..."

"I don't want you to feel like it's your fault." You shake your head quickly, feeling the guilt weigh further on your shoulders. "You're good to me and always take care of me. I–I know how demanding and strenuous your work is. I feel bad for asking so much of you, but…” Your words jumble as your mind scrambles, and you let out a long sigh, trying to blink back the rising wetness in your eyes.

"Darling... look at me." he gently cuts you off, softly but firmly, as he lifts his free hand to your face and gently turns it towards him. Despite the fatigue that's settled in his bones, exhaustion and weariness filling his every move, his eyes look you over with regard and care.

"You're not demanding...not at all. And you're not in the wrong for feeling like you miss me or want me home more often - it's alright that you feel this way; I know I'm still here, with you, always."

Smiling crookedly, the lump in your throat grows tighter, and your vision clouds as you look up at him. Hiromi had always been patient with you, never judgmental, and always kind. You feared your emotions were too big—too sensitive, but he never seemed to mind; he seemed to cherish it.

"I know, I just... don't want to put any more pressure on you." You swallow thickly, hoping to suffocate the urge to cry in front of him.

Your words make his heartache for you even more, his thumb tracing circles into the skin of the back of your hand in a way to soothe you, his other hand gently caressing your cheek. He leans in a little closer, searching your face.

"Darling... I want you to tell me when these things bother you; you're not putting pressure on me; you're just expressing how you feel. And I want to listen to you. I'll always listen to you, alright?"

His words hit home, breaking the dam you were struggling to maintain. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks before your hands quickly wiped them away. You sniffle, your smile shaky, and you gaze up at him through glistening eyes. The words: ‘Thank you’ sit on your tongue heavily, yet it feels strange thanking him for something you shouldn't be thanking him for. He's just so good — unabashedly and without selfish reasons.

"I love you." You say instead, and it comes out strangled and pitched, but you force it out nonetheless.

His mouth forms a tight line as he watches you, his chest constricting at your tears and the sound of your voice wavering as you speak. He leans in closer, gently tugging your hand, and he brings you towards him, his other arm wrapping around you and pulling you into him.

"It's alright, my love... there there..." He speaks softly and gently, running a hand soothingly over your back as he pulls you closer. He presses a gentle kiss to your nose, then your cheek, then your forehead.

"I love you too, always."

You giggle at his attempt to console you, contentedly purring as you sink into his embrace. "You're so good to me." You mumble aloud, half of your face squished against his chest.

He pulls you closer still, letting you bury your face into his chest while his arms wrap around you tighter. He rests his chin on your head, running one hand through your hair, and holds you close while you sit perched on top of him. His heart finally settles slightly at the sound of your laugh and the feeling of your body pressed close to his, and he lets out a quiet huff from his nose.

"Of course... you mean everything to me.", he whispers, his voice slightly muffled.

A wide smile splits across your face from his words, your cheeks growing warmer. His voice washed over your being like an incredible wave on a hot summer's day, forcing your body into a calm state of arousal. The feeling of his large, warm hands scoping the reins of your waist causes a shiver to roll up your spine. His pectorals are large, soft, and squishy through his wrinkled, white button-up that you rest your cheek upon.

As you feel his lips press against the top of your head, you drink in the musky, woody smell attached to his clothes. A faint scent of pine and cigarettes clings to his body, a subtle reminder that you know he's been smoking more than usual this month, no doubt from the stress of his job. You never say anything, but you worry. And you know that he knows you worry.

"Hiromi..." You breathe, writhing in his embrace, your thighs pressed together. "It's been so long..." You begin, your voice shy of its usual self-confidence, worried you’d ask for too much. Just last week, when you had tried to initiate intimacy, he had explained he was too exhausted and had promised "another time" that never came. Of course, you remained patient and would never ask for more than he could give. And yet you were growing more and more needy as time went on. Hiromi was a passionate lover, but his libido seemed to be less as intense as yours was.

Your words make his heart flutter as he feels you shift, his eyes flickering down to where you had pressed your thighs together, and his breath hitches for a moment in his throat. His hold around you tightens as if he were worried you would pull away from him, his hand gently playing with the soft strands of your hair while you focus his senses.

"Darling..." he begins quietly as his thumb reaches up, carefully grazing your bottom lip, feeling the slight moisture from your tears still clumped on the skin.

"I... I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry; s’not your fault." You reassure him, your heart clenching at his voice's tone yet beating faster at the feel of his finger against your bottom lip. You press your lips against the tip of his thumb, causing a shuddering breath to leave his mouth.

"I just miss you..." You breathe, pressing your chest against him, your eyes darting towards his lips.

"I know... I miss you too.", he murmurs, gently shifting to close the remaining distance between you. He bends his head down, palm cradling your face as he presses an achingly tender kiss, sighing softly against your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, letting your hands rest gently against his stubbly cheeks. He hadn't shaved in some time, but you quite like the 'disheveled' look on him.

You kissed him back softly or tried to, at least, quickly becoming more and more aroused. ‘It's been so long,’ you justify your impatience inside your head. ‘He just looks so good, smells so good, feels so good’ — the mantra in your head continues. It's not long before your trembling fingers undo his shirt's buttons, desperate to feel his warm skin against yours. His body shudders in response.

His breathing wavers just slightly as he feels you press harder against his lips. Your impatient moans and the way you hungrily press against him sparks even more desire deep within him. Before Hiromi realizes what he's doing, he's pulling you closer than before, practically into his lap, as he deepens your kiss.

He slides his hand to the back of your head, burying his fingers into your hair as he continues to explore the heat of your mouth.

Once you finish unbuttoning his shirt, you don’t bother wasting time by shrugging the rest of it off; instead, you instantly glide your hands down his body and back up again. Without even realizing it, your body begins moving on its own — your hips grinding down against his thigh.

"Missed you..." You huff as you part from his mouth, your chest heaving in lack of oxygen. Your lips find his ear, nibbling softly, and you undo his belt with one hand, the other still pawing at him.

Your movements draw shaky breaths from him, his hands roaming down your sides to settle on your waist. Despite his fatigue and exhaustion, he feels desire and warmth surge through his core as you unbutton his pants, and he gently pulls back to give you a moment to breathe.

"Darling... wait..." he mutters against you, his voice coming out in breathy pants, his forehead resting against yours.

"What's wrong? Do you want to stop?" You panic, worry, and guilt quickly settle in at your restlessness.

"Nothing's wrong..." he reassures with a small smile, gently caressing your cheek, and shakes his head. "I just think we might be more comfortable in the bedroom."

He then pauses, a slight frown settling onto his expression, and he cups your face in his hands, his thumb tracing the skin under her eye.

"Are you sure you want to do this...? You don't have to, I-"

You quiet him with a deep kiss, pulling him upwards and guiding him towards the room. You pull him along quickly, hastiness settling into your bones.

"Need you so badly, Hiro." You whine once you enter, quickly discarding your clothes before him.

He lets himself be dragged into your bedroom, slightly stumbling as he follows behind you, and a breathless laugh leaves him once you begin undressing in front of him. His eyes can't help but rove over your curves and the soft expanse of your skin, and once you toss aside the last of your clothes, he steps closer towards you with a determined edge to the way he moves.

"Darling..." he mumbles as he pulls you into him, his mouth grazing your jaw before his teeth sink into the crook of your neck.

Your sudden gasp trails off into a high-pitched mewl. You close your eyes in bliss, grasping at his messy hair as your body arches further into him.

He closes his eyes as he relishes the mewls and gasps you produce as he sinks his teeth into soft flesh, his hands roaming over your bare form, touching you everywhere and yet never staying in one place for long. He pulls back, panting heavily against your skin, and he trails his mouth down and across the slope of your shoulder before he lifts you off of your feet and onto the bed.

You quickly sink into the plush mattress, giggles leaving your lips as your excitement becomes too much. Your mind repeatedly screams: ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ as Hiromi shrugs off the remainder of his clothes. You bite your lip as you watch, your eyes practically glowing with hunger and anticipation.

"You're so handsome... so sexy." You giggle, sighing in utter happiness as you watch him with rapt attention.

His breath gets caught in his throat for a moment at your words, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into an intimate smile as he lets himself sink onto the bed before you, his knee slotting between your legs and hands coming to rest beside your head as he pins you between his arms.

"And you're gorgeous, darling..." he answers before his head dips down towards your neck again, his teeth and lips grazing over your skin, and he bites down on your collarbone as he lets out a huff.

"You're the most beautiful person." You confess longingly, kissing the top of his head as your hands explore the length of his back.

He chuckles breathlessly against your skin, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder, and he sighs, shifting closer to press even more against you. At your compliment, however, he lifts back up to look at you, the pink hue that had been dusted across his cheeks turning even darker.

"You're far too sweet to me..." he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours, and he gently caresses your cheek as those warm, brown eyes of his lock gaze with yours.

You don’t bother with a reply, only turning your head slightly to kiss the inside of his hand, your lustful gaze never leaving his.

A fond smile twitches at the corners of his lips, but that smile slips once more as he leans down again and presses his mouth to yours. His tongue quickly sneaks past his mouth and flicks out to brush against your own, his teeth grazing gently along your bottom lip.

One hand slips down towards your hip, wrapping under you and lifting your hips towards his, and he lets out a quiet, shaky groan at the press he feels against his growing desire.

You happily swallow his groan, flicking your tongue desperately into his mouth. Your hand reaches upwards, settling against his own, and he keeps cradling against your cheek.

"You're s'big..." you moan, feeling him harden against you.

A low groan leaves his mouth as he lets his eyes flutter closed at your words, his cheeks growing warmer at the compliment. The sound of your voice is the only thing registering through the fuzzy haze that had settled into his mind, his body growing warmer and warmer as you press flush against him.

He dips his head back down, his mouth coming to nip and bite at your neck, kissing and laving his tongue over the skin as he works to leave a visible mark on the skin.

You wrap your legs around his slim waist, heels digging into his backside to urge him further against you. You lift your hips, arching your back as you rest your head against the bed, panting with want and desire. "Need you..." You repeat, dragging your hand through his hair.

He lets you nudge him, and the feeling makes a dizzyingly overwhelming heat spread in his gut. He groans lowly against your skin; he presses himself and grinds against you as his body begins to move on autopilot. He can feel the heat of your breath against his skin when you whine, and he lifts his head to look at you.

"Say it again..." he orders quietly with a groan.

"Need you, Hiromi... please?" You beg; your voice is high-pitched and whiny. Your skin burns up from the intensity, down to your toes. Your eyes are glassy from unshed tears, and your lips are red and shiny with your combined spit. A slight sheen of sweat had formed on your face and body from the shared heat of your bodies pressed together and your breasts heaving with every breath you took. Your eyes were lidded with want, looking up at him like he had hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you; like he was the only person in the world.

He stares down at you, his breathing ragged and shallow as he takes in the sight of the way you looked, so utterly breathless and undone. The way you mewl up at him, the way your hair splayed out against the pillows, and the feeling of you cupping his cheek make his breath hitch in his throat, and the heat in his gut grow further.

He stares down at you for a few more moments before he dips down to capture your mouth in another kiss, his hands gently resting against your hips.

Hiromi can taste the desperate desire on your tongue as he lets his teeth catch your lower lip and lets his body rest against you, his chest flushed against your soft skin, and he can feel your heat against him, sending a shiver down the length of his spine. His hands slip down to rest against your bare thighs, and he presses in closer, grinding against you in response to the way you arch your back once more.

"Need you inside..." You breathe into his lips, swollen, red, and glossy. "Please?" You plead, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.

He shudders as you utter the words into his mouth, and he nods in agreement, biting gently at your lip before he pulls back to look down at you. There's a slight flush on his cheeks, and when his eyes dart down again, he can see just how red- and bruised your lips were because of him.

His breath stuttered at the sight, and he leaned in to press his mouth against your neck, his lips trailing up toward your ear. "Anything you want..." he whispers.

You moan at his words, trailing your hand downwards, wrapping your hand around his cock: red, angry, and drooling down your fingers. It twitches with interest as soon as your skin makes contact with it.

His hips stutter at your hand wrapping around him, and his teeth graze against your earlobe at the sensation, his breathing hitching, and he moans as his body moves on instinct, rolling against your palm in a way that makes his blood burn hotter. His mouth latches against yours, silencing his gasps against your tongue.

You move your hand faster, desperate for more of his reactions before you slow it back down, too impatient to have him inside of you as you guide him towards your drooling pussy.

His body arches against you when you guide him inside; he can hear how his breath stutters when it catches in his throat. He can feel how hot and slicked you are against him. His breath leaves him in short gasps, biting down on your skin as he lets his desire drive him forward, thrusting hard until he’s balls deep inside of you.

"Fuck, baby,” you keen, tossing your head back as you claw at his hips desperately. "'missed this." You gasp, your eyes fluttering at the feel of him stretching you open.

He can feel the heat of your breath against his skin as you moan out for him, and his hands come to grip your hips, his nails leaving behind red lines he knows will turn angrier soon enough. He shudders against you, and his brain feels fogged over as pure need for you washes over him, leaving him in a delirious haze.

The way you say you missed him so earnestly makes him feel dizzy with pleasure, "Missed this too..." he mumbles against your skin.

"Yeah?" You giggle breathlessly, raking your nails through his hair and down his back. "…haah…Did you think about me–" you let out another moan as he began moving his hips. "when you were away?" You kiss his ear.

He buries his face against your neck at your question, groaning as he pushes in further, savoring the way your body feels against him. Your nails against his skin make his breathing shallow, and the sound of your moans makes his head feel too fuzzy, "I thought about you all the time..." he mumbles against your skin, his voice low and shaky.

"Me too." You confess, tightening your thighs around his waist. "Played with my pussy thinking you: at work...in your suit..." You whispered into his ear about your fantasies of him, all the while pressing kisses into his skin.

As you spoke, he could feel the heat pooling in his gut and how your words went straight to his dick, feeling it twitch even more inside you. He groaned as he rocked into you, and his hands on your hips tightened, his nails leaving behind marks. "Did you really?" he breathes against your skin, biting and sucking against your neck.

You pull his head out from your neck, smiling up at him with a crooked, dopey, cock-drunken grin, your eyes lidded as you bite your lip. You lick a stripe of beaded sweat trailing down his neck up to his jaw, sucking at his skin that you know for sure will leave a mark. You pull away with a pop, satisfied with the blooming reddened skin. He lets out a loud, stuttering gasp.

"Every day," You answer with a huff, looking deep into his eyes with a pleased smile.

He can feel your body beneath him, writhing in response to the way he moves, and it drives him into ducking you harder. He gives a sharp thrust upward, groaning as he lifts of on your legs onto his shoulder as leverage.

You keen again, your mouth falling open in a perfect 'O' as your eyes close shut. "Yes!" You mewl sweetly, your nails digging into his biceps. "Just like that, Hiro." You praise, arching your back further as you chase the intense feeling.

His groans grow louder and more desperate-sounding as you praise him, and the feeling of your nails in his skin makes him whine. He takes the praise to heart as he moves against you, shifting with a new sense of purpose as he gives another sharp thrust upward to press against you.

Your voice grows uncontrollably louder, drawn-out whines and wanton moans spilling from your lips without a single thought in your mind. You couldn't even form the words to praise Hiromi if you tried.

"Don't stop!" You begged, your climax drawing closer and closer.

His fingers dig into your skin as he moves against you, the heat in his gut and the all-consuming sensation spreading across his body, making his breath shallower and his vision start to blur. The way your voice grows more and more desperate leaves him breathless, and your moans drive him even further.

He could feel you tightening around him, making his body burn hotter, and he shudders at the feeling, pressing into you further. The sounds of your combined lovemaking grow louder: the heavy, wet slap of skin against skin, the shameful groans and keens of pleasure, and the panting breaths mingled with the sound of lips smacking against one another. "So perfect..." he manages to gasp out, his voice shaky.

You felt your body pulsating at his praise, pawing desperately at his body in hopes of grounding yourself from the onslaught of pleasure.

"Says you..." You moaned, digging your heels into his lower back.

He groans low in his throat as he presses against you, his head growing dazed from the heat and the feeling of your nails on his skin. He could feel his breathing grow more shallow with each breath he took, his hips beginning to jerk against you. "So perfect for you..." he gasped out, pulling you even closer against himself as he leaned down to press his mouth to your neck.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his words, so you opted to moan louder. "M'so close, love." You confessed before your voice cut off, tossing your head back. Your lips fall open in a silent scream as you convulse around him, spraying his lower half in your release. You continued to let out pitched whines and mewls, your eyes rolling back in overstimulation.

He groaned into your neck as your body convulsed around him, the feeling of you squeezing around him making his thoughts grow even more scattered. He whines as he moves against you, not stopping for a second as he tries to ride it out with you.

You’re left breathless, and you struggle to keep still as he moves against you through your orgasm, his name falling from your lips in gasps and moans.

The sounds of your voice and breathlessness make it hard for him to think, but he leans into you, pushing a hand through your hair to pull you in for a trembling and messy kiss, his mouth moving against yours almost desperately. His breath still staggers, and the feeling of you underneath him makes his body grow even hotter as he continues to push, his thrusts becoming sharper and faster as he chases his end.

You practically scream into his kiss, pushing weakly at his lower abdomen even as your hips still chase his. "Inside... please come inside me..." You pant hotly into his ear.

His hands tighten on your hip at your words, his breathing growing more desperate and shaky, and he buries his face against your neck as he shudders at the way your body feels beneath him, "Want you - want you..." he gasps out against your skin, a moan leaving him as Hiromi moves faster against you, his body almost dizzy with need as he presses against you, his rhythm and pace growing more desperate and needy as his release grew closer and closer.

"Want you too— mmph!... haah... all the time!" You intertwine your hand in his, squeezing it in your grip.

He bites at your skin to muffle the sounds he makes at your words, his fingers intertwining with yours as his grip on your hip tightens. His own pace grows sloppier, his movements jerky as he grows closer to his release, his breath coming out in shaky huffs against your skin as his body shudders with need and pleasure.

"Say my name... fuck!... when you cum, baby." You beg, mouthing kisses against his chin.

He groans into your skin at your words, his breath ragged and more hitched as he gets closer. He presses another kiss against your skin, his breath warm against your face as he huffs out your name against your cheek. He gasps out, sounding breathless as his pace grows rougher and quicker before giving a final thrust up against you as he comes undone, his body tense and rigid against you.

You smile widely, biting your lip with a surprised gasp. Feeling Hiromi pulse and shoot ropes inside of you always felt so heavenly, like a reward. You look up at his pussy-drunk expression and giggle, your heart filled with too much love to carry.

"Sounded like a good one." You huff, dragging your nails down his back while your other hand holds his face.

Hiromi buries his face against your neck again as he struggles to catch his breath, his body still pressed against you, and he can feel the way his chest rises and falls from how he struggles to control his breathing. He groans at the feeling of your nails on his back, and his breath hitches when your other hand comes up to hold his face, his expression turning more dazed from your touch as he presses his hand against yours.

He pulls away from your neck, softly panting as he looks down at you with a crooked, sleepy smile. "Yeah... yeah, it was..." he sighs out.

"You're a mess, my love." You sigh, kissing him softly before urging him to roll over onto his back. "Y'should get some sleep." You smile down at him with your own sleepy, fucked-out grin, looking at him with nothing but love and adoration.

He willingly goes when you urge him to, groaning at the feeling of your mouth against his as he rolls over onto his back. He looks up at you affectionately, returning your smile contentedly. "So should you..." he mumbles, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear before letting his hand rest against your cheek.

You hum in agreement, snuggling up against him. "Wish we could do that all the time." You mumble sleepily.

He chuckles sleepily, one arm wrapping around you and holding you closer against himself, kissing your forehead. "We would die..." he grumbles tiredly, tilting his head to lean his face against yours.

"Not that I'd be against the idea...".

"I'd die pretty happy." You weakly chuckle as exhaustion overtakes you.

He laughs again, the sound of a soft huff of breath against her skin as he nuzzles further against you. "As would I..." he mumbles, his eyes growing lidded and heavier with sleep, his exhaustion catching up with him.

Despite that, he still takes the time to press another soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you in even closer toward him.

"I love you, Hiromi... s’much." You kiss his chest.

He closes his eyes and lets out a deep, tired exhale, smiling as he listens to your words. At your kiss against his chest, his grip around you tightens, pulling you closer to himself as he mumbles out his response against your hair. "I love you too..." he whispers, the words soft and quiet with sleep.

#its been awhile since i wrote something #so sorry if its bad lolol #ive been so obsessed with him lately #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x you #higuruma fluff #higuruma x y/n #hiromi jjk #hiromi x reader #hiromi smut #hiromi x you #hiromi x y/n #hiromi higuruma

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separatist-apologist · 2 days

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Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

major thanks to @velidewrites for both the moodboard and the fic title. I owe you my life, my sword, my fealty.

Elain Archeron was six years old when she learned the news.

“...and Elain shall wed Lucien Vanserra,” her mother said to a friend, face beaming. Oh, how it had all been worked out. Three matches to three men, all before her eldest turned ten. With secured futures, her mama could relax. Elain couldn’t, though.

She learned to hate the young Lucien Vanserra. He was four years older than her, with a shock of red hair and brown eyes that skewed to gold in the right light. Every time he saw her, he’d bow with perfunctory politeness, his face a mask of placid emotion.

“Lady,” he’d say, eyes looking anywhere but at her face.

“Lord,” she’d reply, hoping he could feel her radiating contempt.

To try and get out of the marriage was unheard of. Ruinous, even, for not just herself but her sisters and their own matches. And so, Elain hoped Lucien ruined his own reputation and she could somehow escape with her own poor reputation intact. His own father had a reputation as a philanderer, and Elain heard rumors that some people didn’t believe Lucien to even be a true Vanserra.

Bastard, she’d heard one of her father’s friends murmur before the study door closed in her face. The word was followed by laughter and then someone shushing them all. Elain didn’t know if that was true, or not. Lucien’s skin was a far darker shade of brown than his pale father, but his hair was just as red as his brothers, his eyes a near match for Beron’s.

The only saving grace, as far as Elain was concerned, was the distance between them. Lucien was a son of Autumn, Elain a lady of Spring. Their courts bordered each other, but permission to visit was limited and met with resistance. She saw Lucien twice a year, less if she was lucky.

His presence loomed, though. As she grew into adulthood, Elain couldn’t get Lucien Vanserra from her mind.

Even when whispers of his reputation made its way to Spring. They said he tried to abscond with another female—a lesser fae female, no less. And rumors swirled that his father had the female executed for disrespect. No one could prove it, of course—Elain had seen Lucien not long after she’d heard the giggled whispers from her own friends at court.

Maybe you’ll be free of the Autumn sons, they’d giggled behind their hands.

When he arrived three weeks later, he’d seemed perfectly fine. He’d bowed, refused to look at her, and called her lady all over again before vanishing with Tamlin to talk. Surely that wasn’t the face of a male who’d watched the female he loved die. Was he cold? Did he not care?

The questions swirled around Elain’s mind as her wedding loomed closer. She was going first—Tamlin, who was betrothed to Nesta, had put it off for another year, citing problems on the border that would take him away from a new wife.

In truth, everyone knew Tamlin was fascinated with Feyre and Elain, who had watched the way he talked with her sister, knew he was angling for a way to change his fortune without ruining Nesta.

And Feyre, who was betrothed to a young nobleman in Summer, could simply not just swap places with Nesta. It was expected Nesta would make the most advantageous match with very few High Lords interested in the nobility from Spring. There was Helion, of course, who was deemed too old for Nesta, and the High Lord of Night that no one ever saw…and Tamlin, who had been promised to Nesta when his father was still alive. Elain wanted to stick around and see how it all played out. There was little love lost between Nesta and Tamlin, who interacted well enough but were content to avoid the other, too.

Elain knew Tamlin was hoping for a mating bond with Feyre. That was the only way out for any of them…and she was certain she simply did not have one.

And Lucien…

“They say she was his mate,” her friend had whispered to her the same night she’d learned the female was dead. The pain was said to be immense. Miserable. Intolerable. The most horrific thing a person could experience.

And he’d bowed with that easy expression. Was he a cold, unfeeling monster? Or were the rumors merely that?

With her wedding weeks away, Elain set out to uncover the truth for herself. If her soon-to-be husband had attempted to marry another woman, she deserved to know. Selfishly, she believed she could petition her parents to free her of her duty under the guise of embarrassment. He’d already broken their arrangement, hadn’t he?

Maybe he’d thank her.

Maybe not.

Tamlin knew him best and Elain decided to try her luck with the notoriously tightlipped High Lord. He often walked around his garden at noon, clearly deep in thought. No one ever bothered him, but perhaps he’d make an exception for her. Elain didn’t try and sneak up on him, catching his mossy green gaze as she cut a path through the azaleas. There was a look of resignation in his face—as if he’d been waiting for her.

“Lady Elain,” he said pleasantly, if not a little gruffly. “If you’ve come to beg for my assistance, I cannot give it to you.”

Elain was taken aback. “I—no, I wasn’t, I…”

Tamlin didn’t look as if he believed her. “What can I do for you?”

“You know Lucien Vanserra. Tell me about him.”

Tamlin considered her words for a moment. “He’ll make a good husband.”

That…wasn’t what she’d been asking, but Elain didn’t know how else to ask Tamlin without just asking. He was giving her nothing to work with.

“What makes you say so?” she pressed, trying anyway.

Tamlin sighed again. “We’ve been friends our whole lives. I’ve seen the way he treats people. He’ll treat you well.”

“Does he not…is there no one he would prefer?” she tried. One last bid before she gave up on Tamlin entirely.

Tamlin set his jaw. “No, Lady Elain, I do not believe there is.”

She knew better than to press any further. Tamlin would not be of any assistance—he was forbidden from interfering unless Elain had a legitimate complaint. As far as anyone was concerned, she was practically Lucien’s property.

It had occurred to her that she ought to deny him the pleasure of being the only male she’d ever touched. What would Tamlin do if Lucien complained? Some males did, some didn’t—the rules were never uniformly applied. Some males cared so much they’d start whole duels over it and other males encouraged it and hoped for a wife who had some semblance of experience.

Which did Lucien prefer, so she could do the opposite?

Elain found her mother in the parlor, paler than she usually was and yet still beautiful. She held court on the piano seat, her friends around her talking animatedly with bright, shiny eyes. When their eyes met, her mother beamed.

“There you are, pretty thing,” she began, talking as though Elain were still a little girl toddling about in shoes laced with ribbon. “Where have you been all afternoon?”

“Talking with Tamlin about Lucien,” she said without thinking, wishing for a moment she had the sort of mother that would assuage her fears.

The room erupted into giggles, forcing Elain back to reality.

“Excited?” her mother asked, clapping her hands together in front of her too thin throat. Her mother had once been so beautiful—the kind of female even the High Lord had courted before he met his mate. Now she was skin stretched over bone, still beautiful but with an exhausted quality Elain didn’t quite understand.

They never spoke about it. Feyre had tried, in her clumsy, tactless way and everyone had hastened to shush her as their mother turned her face, cheeks red with either anger or humiliation. Their father was unchanged, was just as handsome and healthy as he’d ever been. Elain assumed he must know.

He loved her mother. They weren’t mates, but they might as well have been. Their marriage had been arranged and they’d fallen in love before they ever walked down the aisle. Elain had once hoped for the same.

Lucien Vanserra had made that all but impossible. Sure, Elain had been difficult but wasn’t it a man's job to court a female? He’d never bothered.

Elain offered up her best smile. Good daughters did as they were told and aided in their family’s reputation. It could be worse, she told herself even as she struggled to imagine how. She’d be isolated from her family, alone in the most ruthless court short of the Night Court, with a male who didn’t care about her one way or the other.

“I am,” Elain lied, remembering she’d been asked a question.

“He is quite handsome,” one of the other ladies quipped as another quickly interjected.

“It was a shame to see the eldest end up with that cast off from Day. He nearly had one of the Night Court princesses.”

“They’re mates, are they not?” a third lady giggled from behind a pink and cream fan.

“That doesn’t make it less of a tragedy.”

Elain excused herself before, disappointed to leave the gossiping females for silence. Elain adored gossip so long as it didn’t involve her. How long before she was the thing they all felt was a shame? Did that Day Court female even have a say? Or had her bond snapped and she’d been shipped off to live with a male she didn’t know simply because fate was cruel and capricious?

Elain sighed.

She doubted she’d weather the Vanserra storm any better and yet she still hoped.

LUCIEN:

Pacing the floors of his bedroom, Lucien considered leaving once again. And once again it was Eris, leaned against the door that adjoined his room to the sitting chamber, arms crossed over his chest while his wife sat cross-legged on Lucien’s bed.

“I’m going to do it,” Lucien threatened, looking at Arina.

“Do it,” Eris replied, clearly bored. “Jump to your death, spare me the melodrama.”

“It’s not–”

“She’s alive, Lucien,” Arina murmured for the hundredth time. “She’s safe.”

And she was gone. Arina had smuggled Jesminda somewhere safe and far from Beron Vanserra’s reaches while Eris had paid off her family to swear Jes had killed herself rather than face the humiliation of disappointing her High Lord. Beron got to torture Lucien a little—a week being tortured in the dungeon was worth everything if Jes was alive and well.

But she was gone and Lucien was going half wild missing her.

“I need to see her,” Lucien protested, needing to hear his brother remind him of all the reasons why it was a bad idea.

Eris had simply had enough. “Why? You’re disappointed you didn’t get to watch her die the first time?”

“We’re mates—”

“You’re not—” Eris snarled, silenced by a cutting look from Arina.

“Lucien…if there was a bond, you would have felt it by now. It’s been years.”

“It can take time—”

“Not like that,” Eris interrupted again, running a hand through his immaculate hair. “But it wouldn’t matter even if she was. Father will see you married to the Archeron girl, and if you’re smart and you love Jesminda, you’ll do it.”

Lucien couldn’t help the small growl that rumbled in his chest. It was a betrayal to the love he felt to marry another female, and a double betrayal for that wife to be Elain. Bland, but pretty, Elain Archeron was something from his nightmares. Everything Lucien had ever seen of her told him she was more interested in ribbons and gossip than anything else.

She’d fit right into the Autumn Court, but not with him. He’d tried, over the years, to imagine what it would be like to be with her. To lay her out in his bed, to subject her to all the things he’d found so much pleasure doing with other females. And every time, Lucien’s mind reminded him that Elain was likely the type to silently lay there crying, unmoving and uninterested. Did she read? Have opinions? He doubted it.

But she was pretty.

Beautiful, even—the most beautiful female he’d ever seen, though it pained him to admit it. What good was all that beauty if she couldn’t hold a conversation. Tamlin had once described her as unspeakably dull, which was all Lucien needed to know.

In a month, she’d be his wife.

Lucien turned back toward the balcony that dropped to the leaf strewn ground, wondering how badly he’d hurt himself. He wouldn’t die…but he might rupture his knee, and that would take far too long to heal.

“She's safe?”

“I swear,” Arina said, biting her lower lip. “Don’t ask me where, Lucien. I made her swear never to contact you.”

“If you try, I’ll have someone take her memories,” Eris added, obnoxious until the very last. “Don’t think I won’t, either.” It was the kind of thing Eris would love doing. Lucien, cursed to remember everything while Jesminda never knew he existed. Maybe that was kinder—maybe he could have his memories stolen, too.

Guessing the slant of his thoughts, Arina rose and put her hand on his shoulder. “You don’t know you’ll be miserable in your marriage.”

Lucien looked at her, frustrated. Arina should have been miserable, too. She had been when she first arrived, hands clenched to fists, eyes glassy with unshed tears. No one expected her to be happy here, Lucien included. He’d been quick to make her his friend, if only to keep her close at hand without leaving her to the vipers nest that comprised the ladies of court.

Lucien had never asked what magic Eris worked to win her over. He didn’t want to hear about it, didn’t want to be subjected to the inevitability that he, too, might love his wife. Arina was Eris’s mate. It made sense he’d been obsessed with her, that they’d found a way to make it work.

Elain was nothing but a female his father had arranged for him before he’d had hair on his chest.

“Thanks,” he said, trying to muster up a smile that would send Arina away. She must have guessed, because she returned to his bed and plopped down against the rumpled gold sheets, hands behind her thick, blonde hair.

Eris groaned when he saw. “Not another night with Lucien. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Not by far,” she replied, flashing him a pretty smile. “You could stay—”

“You two have fun,” he called over his shoulder as he turned to leave, waving them off.

“I don’t need to be watched.”

“Yes you do,” Arina disagreed, patting the space beside her. “You forget, but I haven’t—I was you, this time last year.”

“I heard you made it all the way to the border of Night,” Lucien said, giving voice to the rumors that had swirled through court.

She smiled. “Their bastard High Lord has the borders warded. How was I supposed to know if you walked through uninvited, you’d forget your very purpose in life.”

Lucien couldn’t help his laugh. “Where did they find you?”

“Wandering by a river bank,” she said ruefully. “Afterward, I was locked up in one of the spires until Eris came to collect me. He was furious.”

Lucien remembered that. Eris had raged in private, though there were no secrets even in the Forest House. Had it been his brothers idea—or more likely, his demand—that Arina be locked away?

“I can’t think of one way out of this marriage,” Lucien said, joining Arina on the bed. He hadn’t conceded—not yet. But his prospects were growing dimmer by the minute.

“There isn’t one, Lucien. Not unless you want to condemn yourself and this poor female who also didn’t ask to be married to you. Everything I’ve heard about Elain Archeron suggests she’s nice.”

“And boring,” she grumbled.

“Boring and nice are better than cruel and unkind,” Arina reminded him gently. “Maybe she lacks Jesminda’s fire and ambition. You can’t hold that against her.”

“Of course I can. What am I supposed to do with a wife who doesn’t have any interest in living life?”

“Maybe she’ll find joy in marital life. Maybe she’ll be an excellent mother—”

“Do not,” he warned.

Arina smothered a smile “I’m just saying, your assumptions might not even be true.”

“Please spare me the lecture about what a good male Eris is.”

“I would ever call Eris a good male,” she reminded him, elbowing Lucien in the ribs. “Not out loud, anyway, where someone might hear.”

“It’s different,” Lucien said with a sigh. “You never knew the kind of love before—”

“You don’t know that.”

“Did you?”

Arina averted her eyes. “No. But you’re judging her too harshly for things you don’t even know will be true. Maybe she’s scared of you, Lucien. Your family does not have the kindest reputation.”

“Her older sister is a viper, her younger a wildling. She’s simply dull,” he said with a sigh. “Trust me. In a month you’ll be right back here helping me escape.”

“Cowardice is ugly on you, Lucien,” Arina chided.

Was it cowardice or simply self-preservation? What was the logic of bringing any female into court? Arina held her own against Beron simply by playing the sweet, demure wife while Eris dressed her up like his plaything. At least Elain wouldn’t cause problems like the female Cadmus had nearly married. Of course, she’d also been married, though none of them knew it at the time. If he’d cared to ask, he might have learned how Cadmus moved on when she was removed from court.

But he didn’t.

Lucien barely slept for the next week, his thoughts drifting back to Jes. He’d forgotten the wedding entirely until his mother came to him with the traditional garb of Autumn and a crown fitted specifically for his head.

“Will you cut your hair?” she asked, fingering a long lock.

“No,” Lucien replied dully, certain Elain Archeron would hate it. He bet she’d grown up wishing for a male like Tamlin. She’d get him instead.

His mother sighed, setting the folded clothes on the end of his bed. There were a thousand unspoken words in that sigh, trailing behind her as she left him to his brooding. His mother wasn’t Arina, wasn’t about to try and sell him on the joys of an arranged marriage. She’d made hers work all these long centuries but no one believed she was genuinely happy. Lucien might have returned to his plan to jump from his bedroom window if she had.

Elain Archeron was supposed to be remanded into his custody two weeks before the wedding to help her acclimate, though in Lucien’s mind, it sounded more like a hostage situation. The closer they got to the actual date, the more precarious everything became. If she lived in Autumn, she’d become his mothers ward until he tied a ribbon around her wrist, binding her to him. Lucien didn’t want her here beforehand, didn’t want to feel responsible for her safety or have to care about her at all.

He certainly didn’t like when his bedchambers was moved, pulling him further into the interior of the palace where more people could watch. He’d need the space with a wife they said, always with a wink that betrayed their expectations.

Lucien wasn’t putting a child in Elain before Eris put one in Arina. He could waste a whole decade doing nothing at all if he was careful and she didn’t go crying to her father about it. It seemed humiliating to imagine and who knew—maybe she’d want out just as badly as he did.

In his daydreams, she came to him with stories of a lover she missed desperately. She asked him for his help to escape and Lucien provided it, along with his blessing. She vanished and he was blameless, left wifeless and perhaps a little humiliated but without the responsibility of her.

Reality was something different.

Reality was waking up knowing Elain Archeron was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Thirty years of trying to avoid her, of hoping she’d do something so offensive he’d be freed of her, all came crashing down. All the love Lucien had known, the life he’d dreamt of—all of it was done.

Left, instead, for the female standing between her mother and father, fingers nervously fingering the pale lilac of her gown. Lucien hated her beautiful face, made to look even more beautiful with cosmetics. He hated her thick, dark hair that tumbled down her shoulders, twisted carefully from her temples so nothing could hide her appealing face. She’d been packaged up, pretty as a picture, to be delivered straight to him.

And Lucien hated her for that most of all.

ELAIN:

There was no use begging or pleading, so Elain didn’t. She let the maids dress her beneath her mothers watchful gaze, tuning out the chatter about marital bliss.

Especially when the topic shifted. “Do you understand how children are made?”

Yes, Elain thought bitterly. She wasn’t stupid—she’d seen horses go at it as a girl, and servants tumbling about the stables. Had she not seen it, Elain had certainly spent enough time around lewd males and their crude gestures and their suggestive comments. Not to mention that book of Nesta’s she’d once read once…okay twice.

Three times.

Elain dreaded having to submit to Lucien Vanserra. The expectation that she was going to let him do anything to her naked body made Elain want to scream with rage. What about what she wanted? Did it matter at all? Would anyone care if she said no?

Elain suspected not, which made the whole ordeal easier. She could simply stop trying at all and move entirely in her head where she’d remain safe. No one noticed—not when her hair was pinned or her body made more shapely with stays and not when she was winnowed off, courtesy of the High Lord, straight to Autumn’s doorstep.

It was exactly as she imagined. Cool and blustery, the ground soggy with jewel-bright leaves and a rolling fog that threatened to swallow her up. This was to be her home? Elain wanted to cry. At least Spring was bright and lovely in between the violent storms. Did the sun ever shine?

The weather felt like an omen, made worse when Elain was led into the Forest House, guarded by sentries holding bows strung tight.

Inside, beneath a hanging chandelier, Elain was greeted by the High Lord and his family. All five of his sons, his wife, and his eldest’s stolen wife all looked at her as Elain made her way toward them. Vipers, she thought, wondering what Nesta would make of the entire thing. Nesta was gone, accompanying Feyre in Summer which felt strategic. By the time they returned, Elain would be making a death march through a temple, bound and perhaps even gagged by her new husband.

She hated how handsome he looked in his navy jacket and tight, cream pants. His hair was long like all his brothers save for Eris, and tied back with a leather strap. Lucien looked at her with hidden contempt even as he stood forward to offer her a broad hand.

I hate you too, she tried to say silently, even as she forced herself to smile.

Lucien bowed, taking her hand in his to almost kiss her skin. His lips never made contact, though it must have looked as if they did. This was pure theater and he was an actor on stage. “Lady Elain,” he said, just as he always did.

“Husband,” she replied, because she knew her mother wanted to hear her say it. Wanted to know that when she left, Elain would be content.

The blonde rolled bright, green eyes as an amused smile spread over her pretty face. So much for making friends, she supposed.

Lucien dropped her hand as if she’d burned him. He’d have to do better than that if he was trying to sell this. Maybe he simply didn’t care. His father stepped forward, unconcerned with his son, to speak with Elain’s father.

“Please,” he said, gesturing behind him, “allow me the pleasure of showing you to my home.”

Another eye roll, this time from both the blonde and her mate. It was good to know they were all phonies, she supposed.

“Lucien,” the Lady of Autumn began, eyes sparkling with delight. “Why don’t you show Elain to her room?”

“Our room, you mean?” he said, voice syrupy sweet. His mother’s eyes flashed a warning, silencing her adult son without so much as a word uttered. “Yes, mother.”

Elain started to turn to her mother, to plead silently not to be left alone in Lucien’s company, but her mother looped her arm with the Lady of Autumn, a female that also seemed far too thin and somehow looked healthy and vibrant compared to Elain’s mother. Both Elain and Lucien stood there watching them retreat and Elain wondered if Lucien ever felt compelled to count the notches in his own mothers spine the way she did.

“Come,” Lucien said, his voice neither soft nor gentle. He didn’t wait to see if she followed and some part of her wanted to spite him and remain where she was, to force him to drag her down wide halls made entirely of wood and open, glass windows. Brass sconces held lit candles that illuminated through the gloom while overhead chandeliers of faelights did the rest.

Elain tried to memorize the path he took her on, counting in her head until she was dizzy and confused. Had it been left, or right last? Did it matter?

Lucien pulled open a rounded door with heavy, gold knobs and Elain nearly sobbed. Reaching for the molding to steady her shaking knees, Elain looked at the room that would belong not to her, but them.

Lucien glanced over his shoulder, eyes rolling just a little. “Are you afraid of sitting furniture, lady?”

She hated him. Forcing herself inside where the scent of him was so overwhelming it was all she could smell, Elain sood right in the middle of that large, cream colored rug. “I don’t want you in here.”

Lucien flashed her a smile. “Then we agree. I have no intention of spending a minute more in this room before I have to, wife, so you can stop your trembling.”

“Is this amusing to you?” she demanded, wanting to launch herself at him and pummel him with her fists like Feyre had used to do to Nesta when they were children. Lucien was taller than her by a good head and shoulders and beneath his fine clothes, she bet he was packed with muscle. There was no way she could take him in a fight—she likely couldn’t knock him down, either.

Still, it might make her feel better to try.

He looked as if he’d guessed the slant of her thoughts.

“No, lady, I don't find any of this amusing.”

“And yet you mock me.”

Lucien, unable or unwilling to deny her claims, merely sank into a deep bow. “Did you expect sonnets?”

“I expected manners.”

“Well, I suppose you know better now, don’t you?”

Artfully dodging her, Lucien made his way out of the room without another word. She supposed getting the last one was enough for him. Once he was gone, Elain exhaled some of her panic. This was happening.

There was no escaping any of it, no backing out now. She tried to find some positives in the situation. Her husband was handsome, she supposed. That was nice. And the room was big, with space to entertain potential friends if she wanted. As Elain moved through the room, she found a bedroom twice as large as the sitting room, with an attached bathing chamber she could have put her bed back home in.

It felt cozy. Warm hues of orange and brown and green decorated the room, trimmed in gold and dark herringbone wood floors. The ornately carved headboard looked a bit like a carriage she’d seen in pictures from Winter, though Elain had never been. A mountain of pillows invited her to lay down, though it was the glass double doors hidden behind sheer curtains that drew her attention.

Elain opened them to find a balcony overlooking an expansive forest. It was a sea of color, dimmed in the moody fog hanging between the colorful treetops and swaying trunks. In the distance, Elain thought she saw the edges of mountains, though maybe that was her mind filling in the gaps of what should be there.

Something pressed against the corner of her mind—a vision that wanted recognition. Elain was curious, though now wasn’t the time to fall into a trance. She pushed it back, promising she’d return to it once night fell and the doors were all locked. Seers were rare—the last thing she needed was her rude husband to learn he had something valuable on his hands.

Was this her home now? Elain ran her fingers over the damp, wood railing as she tried to find something nice to say about it. It was a place, certainly…she wouldn’t have chosen this place willingly, but that was beside the point.

Elain tried to make herself believe this would be a good thing. That some good would come from it, or that she could find happiness but Elain felt heavy. Stones filled her stomach, weighing her down until she retreated back into the warmth of the room and cheerful, crackling fire keeping her company.

She thought she was alone. Shuffling her feet toward the sitting room, Elain found the blonde sitting in a chair, fingers drumming on the white fabric.

“Done brooding?” she asked, flashing Elain a pretty smile.

“I’m not–”

“Oh, no need to lie,” she said, waving a hand. The red ruby and gold band that encircled her ring finger caught in the faelight, making it seem like a true firestone. Maybe it was. “I tried to scale my own balcony the first day I arrived.”

Elain paused. “Why?”

She smiled wider, the only bright thing in the gloomy room. This was the Day Court female—if her warm, brown skin and golden hair hadn’t given her away, the faint glow that seemed to shimmer off her certainly did. And yet, somehow, she looked Autumn to Elain, though Elain couldn’t quite articulate how.

“I suspect it's a right of passage for all females betrothed to a Vanserra. I would warn you not to try, but Eris told me not to interfere.”

That irritated Elain. “And you do everything he tells you to?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Had she come to try and sell Elain on marital bliss? On the joys of being a good, meek, submissive wife?

The female laughed. “In his fantasies, perhaps. But in real life? No. If I were warning you, I’d tell you that Eris has twelve hunting dogs faster than horses and with more stamina than a hundred soldiers. I might also tell you that they’ll drag you back with their teeth and no one would bat an eye because you’ll heal up nice enough. But I’m not warning you, because maybe you’ll get lucky and get through a hundred miles of unbroken forest, the sentries guarding every major road in and out of Autumn, and your parents won’t mind when they learn you’ve vanished.”

“I never said I was trying to escape,” Elain said through gritted teeth. “I was just standing on the balcony.”

The blonde stood. “Of course,” she agreed, hands smoothing out the crushed red velvet of her dress. “Would you like to see the orchard?”

“I—” Elain paused, the words she’d been about to speak far too rude to be uttered aloud. “Of course.”

“Arina,” the blonde told her, offering a warm hand. Elain took it like a lifeline, thinking of the eye roll from earlier. Maybe it hadn’t been at her expense…but Luciens. Elain wanted to ask this female every question she could think of, none of which would engender warm feelings. And Elain, alone in this new place, wanted a friend more than she wanted anything else. Or, if not a friend, at least an ally—someone she could trust.

“Elain.”

Arina’s smile was pretty. Elain supposed it made sense that Eris Vanserra would want her. What didn’t make sense was Arina’s apparent serene happiness. The unspoken words between them seemed to suggest Elain, too, would find what Arina had. Would be glad for how things worked out, even if they were difficult in the beginning.

Maybe it had worked out for Arina. Elain knew the best she could hope for was perhaps, understanding. Her and Lucien could live parallel lives if he was willing. She’d look the other way if he wanted to carry on in exchange for…for what, exactly? Did she want children? Someday, she thought, but not soon. Elain wanted to travel. Would he let her?

Vowing she’d feel him out before asking, just to spare herself the humiliation and betray her own feelings, Elain trailed behind Arina.

Arina offered Elain to ask her anything she liked. And Elain wanted to—oh, how she had so many questions. But in the end, Elain said little at all.

Better to be safe than reveal to much of her hand, after all.

LUCIEN:

Somewhere in Lucien’s home, his soon-to-be wife slept soundly. Not him, though. Lucien had begun drinking just after dinner, grateful his parents carried the conversation with Elain’s parents so he didn’t have to speak to her at all. Sitting beside her, Lucien felt frustrated and uncomfortable. Her scent had lodged itself in his nose and try as he might, he couldn’t get it out. The scent of jasmine and honey trailed after him all day, driving Lucien to drink. It was like her mere presence in the palace had infected every private space he’d once cherished, reminding him that he could not escape her no matter how he tried.

Arina floated into the study, eyeing the decanter of whiskey sitting on the side table. Lucien held a glass in hand, the ice long since melted.

Dressed in casual, white linen pants and a black top without sleeves, Arina was clearly getting ready for bed before she thought better of it. “Shouldn’t you be getting to know your new wife?”

“Remind me, how well did that go for Eris?” Lucien grumbled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

Arina flopped to the couch beside him. “I held a knife to his balls,” she said with a laugh. Lucien snorted—he didn’t think he’d heard that version of events.

“And they say romance is dead,” he muttered, trying not to think too much about whether his brother would enjoy that or not. There were some things he didn’t need or want to know about, and what Eris did with Arina was one of them. Arina was his friend—his sister, truly. And the thought of his brother touching him was simply too disturbing for Lucien.

“I took her to the orchard today. She’s…” Arina bit her bottom lip.

“Boring?”

“Nervous,” Arina supplied, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Did you see her mother?”

Lucien’s stomach flipped. Yeah, he had seen the matriarch of the Archeron family and it made him wonder what Elain’s father was like. She made his own mother look healthy and vibrant.

“I don’t need to see her before the wedding.”

“Ah, yes, the classic make-her-fall-in-love-with-me-by-ignoring her tactic. Works every time.”

“I don’t want her to fall in love with me,” Lucien said with too much conviction. Arina arched a brow before rolling her eyes.

“You’re going to spend your immortal existence in a miserable marriage?”

“Not immortal—father will die, her parents will too and I’ll—”

“Ruin her?” Arina interrupted, arms crossed over her chest. “Kick her out of your home, keep your shared children—”

“There will be no children,” Lucien half growled, frustrated by the way his whole body seemed to ignite at the thought. How long had it been since he’d last touched a female? Not since Jesminda had been exiled, he realized. Months, then. No wonder his body was interested in the female currently occupying a bed meant for him.

Arina sighed. “I expect this kind of obstinance from Eris. He always has to be right. But not from you.”

“If you’d known true love before Eris, would you…?” Gods, he couldn’t even get the words out. None of them understood. They thought Jesminda had merely been a rebellion, a passing fancy that was easily forgotten without understanding that Lucien had been willing to trade his whole life for her. His money, his crown, his title—all of it for a simple life with Jesminda.

And now she was gone, hidden away where he’d never find her. Was she as miserable as he was? Desperate to get back to him? Or had she made peace with her circumstances? Jesminda had a practical streak to her and when she made up her mind, there was no changing it. If Eris had managed to get her out of Autumn, and Arina had warned her of what would happen to her should she return, and Jesminda hadn’t written him, gotten word, or otherwise come looking for him, then she was unlikely to do so in the future.

The realization made Lucien want to die.

“Even if Elain wasn’t here, your father was never going to let you leave with Jes,” Arina said, reaching for Lucien’s hand. “He was going to kill her.”

Lucien had heard. Eris had gotten word and raced home, sending a letter to Arina to get Jesminda out before Beron’s sentries dragged her to the Forest House. They’d been lucky, if one could call being tortured for weeks lucky. Beron wouldn’t kill one of his sons, though, and certainly not all of them. None of them had claimed responsibility, which, in Beron’s mind, made them all responsible. Lucien had bore the brunt of his fury, but he’d seen Eris limp up the stairs of the dungeon, face paler than usual, eyes hollow and bruised.

“I know,” Lucien said, though it did little to soothe the ache in his heart or fill the hole in his stomach. “Is she safe? Happy?”

“Yes,” Arina said with conviction. “And you know she’d want the same for you. I made her swear to let you go, Lucien. She knows…she knows who you are, your position…the expectations placed on you. It was a good dream. In a better world, you could have…but you can’t. And the longer you hold on, the worse you’ll feel.”

“That doesn’t mean I want Elain Archeron.”

“You don’t even know her,” Arina protested, but on this, Lucien was unwilling to budge. Would Beron have cared as much if Lucien hadn’t already been promised to another female? Beron had never been interested in Lucien. By the time he’d come around, Beron already had four other sons. Lucien wasn’t even a spare, he was simply unneeded. His whole life, he’d been left to his own devices save for his fathers political machinations. Marrying Elain tied him to one of the most powerful families in Spring. Lucien knew Tamlin was engaged to Elain’s eldest sister. Beron would have sway if he needed Spring for anything.

It wasn’t Elain’s fault and yet there was simply no one else to blame. She was the face of his misery.

“Go to bed, Lucien.”

Lucien rose, suddenly annoyed with Arina. He’d supported her back when she’d been desperately trying to find a way out of her own marriage and yet here she was, urging him to just give up and give in. Lucien might be stuck with Elain, but he’d be damned if he was going to try and enjoy himself.

Maybe he was a little drunk. And maybe it was the alcohol bolstering him, that drove him to the bedchamber that would soon belong to them. Lucien intended to tell Elain not to ask him for anything, and in return he would leave her alone. She could carry on some clandestine affair like so many other females at court did. Their husbands pretended not to notice so long as it was not obvious and all their children could be reasonably accounted for.

Lucien pushed through the sitting room to the bedroom where Elain was. She was perched on the edge of the bed, hairbrush in hand. The smell of salt hung heavy in the air and when she turned her big, brown eyes to him, he could see she’d been crying. Lucien paused, some of his anger fizzling to shame.

“Ah…lady. Did something happen?” he asked awkwardly.

Elain cleared her throat and pasted a smile on her face he’d seen a thousand times before on his own mother. “Of course not. It’s simply the pollen in the air.”

Pollen? She was from Spring. Did she think he was stupid? Lucien opened his mouth to argue with her before remembering that she was likely crying because of him. Some of his courtly manners flooded into his awareness.

“Should I shut the window?”

“No,” she breathed, lunging forward as if to physically stop him. The thought was oddly charming. Could she? What did they teach females in Spring, anyway? Arina had come with a dagger hidden in her skirts, apparently, and with enough knowledge to threaten his brother. Should he worry Elain, too, had intentions to castrate him should he offend her?

“Do…can I get you something?”

Elain eyed him suspiciously. “No?”

“Is that a question?” he asked, trying to figure her out.

“I’m fine, lord,” she murmured, dropping her eyes back to the bed. Go away now, seemed her unspoken request. Lucien knew when he wasn’t wanted and in some ways, it was a relief to be dismissed by her. He didn’t have to try so hard.

Try at all, truly. She didn’t have any interest in his company.

Well, fine.

Lucien offered her a bow, well aware he was still mocking her. Elain’s eyes were narrowed to slit when he straightened his spine again, cheeks red not from tears, but anger. Yell at me, he urged silently. Maybe he’d like her better if she showed a little spirit.

Elain took a breath and offered another fake smile. “Sleep well.”

Lucien grumbled something back, turning and closing the door behind him. He was tempted to go back to his own bedroom and enjoy what little freedom he had left to him, but the sound of her soft sobs floated beneath the crack and Lucien was frozen in place. Of course he’d known she was crying and yet to hear it…Lucien swallowed.

He didn’t want to be his father.

Hesitating, he knew there was no point in going back into the bedroom other than to make her feel bad for being miserable. But maybe he didn’t need to leave her wholly alone, either. That was a decent compromise, he thought to himself. Lucien padded out, down the hall to his own room for a pillow, a few blankets, and the things he needed to sleep. He doubted Elain would appreciate learning that he preferred to sleep in the nude and truthfully, he didn’t want her to see him undressed, either.

Not yet. Not until they had to. He figured he might be able to put it off for a while, but eventually he was going to have to lay with his wife, if only to keep her from running off to her father and making any number of claims about him.

The thought of being labeled impitent offended his masculine pride.

Lucien skipped a shirt after tossing and turning on the small couch, annoyed by the fabric hugging his skin and the lumpiness of the cushions beneath him. As he pulled it off over his head, Lucien heard Elain swear softly from behind her bedroom door.

Walking to the window and pushing the curtains gently aside, he saw her swing a leg over the ledge. Her nightdress rode up her slim thigh and once again his body reacted with fascination.

Not the time, he reminded himself with mounting frustrations. With a loud sigh he was certain she hadn’t heard, Lucien merely closed his eyes and winnowed onto the balcony. A light mist fell against his overheated skin, soothing him a little.

“You’ll kill yourself trying that,” he warned.

Elain shrieked, pitching forward to what would have been a very painful fall had he not caught her by the waist and dragged her back. The smell of her hair was too much, intoxicating and sweet and her skin softer than he’d expected.

Lucien released her instantly, stepping far enough away to clear his head. Would she be angry if he took his frustration out on a lady at court? Just to clear his head? What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her…right?

“Don’t touch me,” she warned, holding out a finger like a weapon. Lucien’s hands moved upward defensively, palms out in surrender.

“You won’t last a night in those woods,” he warned her.

“Because of the dogs?” she demanded.

Arina.

Lucien was going to murder her in the morning.

“No, not just the dogs. The dogs will merely bring us to your shredded body,” Lucien retorted hotly, frustrated with the situation and himself. “There are far worse things in the forest than Eris’s animals and though I’m not thrilled about this marriage either, I would rather not be a widow before the ink has dried on our certificate.”

“I would have thought—”

“Then think less,” he snapped angrily. “But do not convince yourself I am hoping you will die.”

Elain’s cheeks reddened. “If you’d let me finish, lord, you would have heard me say that I would have thought you’d be delighted to see me leave.”

Lucien would be delighted, though he had no intention of giving her the satisfaction of being right. “If it’s not you, it’ll be someone else.”

“Maybe someone you’ll like.”

“Or someone my father likes,” he replied a little too honestly. “If you want to scream and rage in private, be my guest. I welcome it. But do not embarrass me or yourself by trying to escape.”

Lucien didn’t bother mentioning that if Beron believed he couldn’t control his wife, he would do it for the pair of them. Lucien could not imagine Elain withstanding Beron’s machinations, which meant he’d have to step in for her.

Better to simply get her under control now, if only to protect his back from the lash.

Elain turned, shoulders slumped. “I don’t know where I thought I’d go. Perhaps a cabin up in the mountains?”

“Eris has one,” Lucien told her as he trailed behind, not bothering to mention that cabin was a loose term for what Eris had built up there. “You could probably use it, if you like.”

She only shrugged, eyes glassy again. Lucien didn’t know what he’d do if she began crying, so he stood awkwardly in the door frame between the balcony and bedroom, too aware he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Elain wouldn’t meet his gaze which only made things worse.

Or, so Lucien thought.

His brain hadn’t quite caught up with his mouth. He heard himself blurt out, “Does my form offend you?”

“All of you offends me,” she retorted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If I promise not to leave this room, will you close the door behind you?”

Lucien scowled, running a hand down his naked torso. He’d never met a female that thought he was offensive and nearly told her so. Was he not more handsome than the males in Spring? Handsome enough to be a husband?

Why do you care?

“Fine,” he grumbled, stalking through the room for the locked door. “But the next time you try that, I’ll tie you to the bed.”

“I’ll scream,” she threatened him.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he bit back before slamming the door behind him.

At least he got the last word.

#elucien #see i can still write elucien so long as im just rewriting the same story over and over and over and over and ov

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prolix-yuy · 1 day

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Hello friends! It's been way way way way WAY too long since we chatted, and to be honest I've been taking an embarrassingly long time to write this update post because godDAMN life just gets you sometimes and you go on an impromptu hiatus that gets super messy. So let's get into what's been going on and what to look forward to!

Pedro Tax for this long-ass post.

(We're gonna get into some personal stuff, but if you're just here for what's coming up skip down to WHAT'S NEXT for the tl;dr version)

So beyond work getting hectic from January to March, which was the catalyst for everything getting wacky, I experienced a weird emotional turn that I wasn't expecting. It made me get a little introspective, which I blame some of my productivity slump on.

As I was finishing up the Bangathon entries, I noticed a sharp decline in interaction. I'm a fairly young fic writer on Tumblr, but I was a little baffled as to why stories I'd posted only a week before got a nice bit of interaction yet the newer ones were only getting half to a quarter of what I expected. For a minute I thought I had been shadowbanned (I was not) or I hadn't tagged the posts (I had) or my taglists weren't working (they were). People were already talking about interaction being lower, so I sat back and tried to go with the flow and not let it bother me. I posted Decoherence, which has a more niche audience, but I was definitely missing and wishing for some of the comments and reblogs I thought I might get.

All this led up to one of the least favorite voices in my head saying something that stuck around:

"Well, you were right not to become a writer if your motivation is this closely tied to feedback."

If you're new here or I haven't talked about it much recently, I initially was planning to be a writer. Went to school for it and everything. While I was there I felt like I hadn't found the stories I wanted to tell yet. My colleagues were developing in their niches and writing "the great American novel" and I didn't feel like I fit in. My stories had a lukewarm reception, and I never felt like anyone was excited about anything I was trying to say. So I wrote myself into burnout by the time I graduated with not much to show for it. I ended up doing a career switch, which I love to this day, but I stopped writing for almost 10 years.

Coming to Tumblr, I felt that spark of excitement writing again, and some of that was definitely due to people commenting and being excited or interested in the stories I was sharing. That truly revived something in me I thought was long gone, and reflecting back on the last two years that I've been sharing stories with this community makes me wildly emotional. I didn't know how much I missed of the life I left behind, and how much joy it brought me to share stories again.

Which is why it was SUPREMELY FRUSTRATING to have that shitty little voice pulverize my productivity and excitement over something as silly as interaction. But I'm sure most of you know how hard it is to get that voice out of your head. I worked to write things I found fun and less stressful than the series I already felt bad for not updating. And while I still love those stories, it felt like I was pulling them from an inauthentic place and finishing them wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped.

Thus the hiatus! I stopped writing and turned my attentions to consuming and creating in other ways. I watched some shows I'd been meaning to catch up on, started planning to buy a house, worked my butt off at the day job. And I was starting to feel like inspiration was coming back. I didn't want to spook it so I took my time and promised myself I was going to start small and not stress about getting stories out for a bit.

Top that off with some medical surprises, an upcoming surgery, and a little re-evaluation of life moving forward and things have been wild. But I've been missing the daily joy I get from being part of this fandom, and I'm getting back into being here more because I miss you guys! AND! I have stories I want to share and fun to be had. So let's shake off all the heavy shit and get to the fun stuff!

WHAT'S NEXT!

The big thing I'm getting ready to post (after teasing it for so long) is the 2024 Bangathon! This one is different from last year's because instead of requesting stories from me, the Bangathon is open to anyone who wants to participate! There will be a randomizer to play with, and some fun bonuses for those who participate. The announcement will be coming out soon, stay tuned!

As for fics, here are some updates on what's in my WIPs:

Series:

I Think of You: I spent some time rewatching Mando for the newest installment, and I've finally gotten the thread of where to go next thought out. It's been a long time coming so this one's gonna be BEEFY to make up for it.

SW!Frankie: I am crushed to realize it's been over a year since I posted any SW!Frankie! I've got a new story about him and Ms J moving in together I need to finish, then some more asks that are getting into new story arcs I'm excited to share!

Best Laid Plans: Dieter and Murch's first date is bouncing around in my head and I NEED to get it on paper. There's much fun to be had, and I've been binge listening to my playlist for them to get into the headspace.

Midnight Alley: I got all up in my own head about continuing the story with these two and lost a little steam, so I'm going to ease off my "big plans" and start smaller with some oneshots instead. I think it'll help me find out where I want this story to go.

One Shots in Progress:

Decoherence Follow-Up

Incubus!Dieter Ask

You know, laying it out like that makes it feel much more manageable than my brain was telling me! I'm also planning to prioritize more fic reading while I'm getting these updates in ship-shape. Reading your stories always helps get my creative juices flowing, and there are so many good ones lingering in my TBR list that I need to devour.

This has been a rollercoaster of emotions, so thank you for coming on the ride with me. I'm excited to bring more of myself back to Tumblr and have fun with all of you again! To many more stories!

#prolix wips #I'm sorry I've been away for so long!#but I'm back!#if there are things I missed please tag me or send them!#I want to read all your stories!

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 days

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I love all these additions so much. Thank you both, this AU has been near and dear to my heart for a long while and I'm so happy to find others who genuinely enjoy it and add on their own ideas to it.

I especially love the idea of Tim going missing for a while and all of Gothem going to hell because they think that Batman finally snapped and killed not just Red Robin, but Robin The Third and Jane Doe. The villians used to be not so bad, doing schemes about at the level of the animated Batman show, but now? Now that they believe that Batman killed the Robin who saved them right after finding out that the poor bird had been a sex worker since he was Robin? Oh no. Fuck that. They are ratcheting it all the way up to Arkham Games level of difficulty.

Catwoman won't even look at Batman.

And not just for Batman! They hear the rumors of what Nightwing took from him and Two Face and Ivy *sneer* at Dick. They hear about Red Hood trying to kill him on more than one occasion, shooting him and beating him who knows how many times and Black Mask and Penguin are suddenly aggressively trying to take bites out of his territory. They hear that Robin has made attempts on his life multiple times and nearly succeeded at least twice and he might very well be the one who put the bird in the ground and not even Harley will pull her punches on him anymore.

But then. Then the Bats dig themselves *even deeper* when they admit and even beg people to believe them that *they didn't know*. They didn't know that Tim was a Sex Worker. And they don't know what happened to him. They swear they don't. And isn't that just a kick in the pants? This group of people who pride themselves on knowing everything, who call themselves Worlds Greatest Detectives, who can solve their crimes before they even commit them and they missed something so utterly massive about one of their own? Batman claims that he didn't know about Red Hood or Robin trying to kill Red Robin and just makes it even worse for himself.

Batman claims he didn't know Robin or Red Hood tried to kill (more than once) Red Robin????

I hope someone pummels him for that comment. Yikes, Bruce.

I do like the au of different rogues going intense in their crimes as retaliation. Only some of them would do it for RR while others would use the chaos as a chance to further their own agendas (idk how sneaky Black Mask is, but I figure he'd use the distractions to silently build his resources).

Your AU is cool and interesting to think about! Poor Alfred might get a heart attack, though.

#dc comics #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#bruce wayne #dc au

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goldengleams · 7 hours

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another cinderella story | l. hughes

summary: after your masquerade dance, you invite luke back to your house to watch a movie that’s right on theme. will he be your prince charming?

word count: 1.8k

author’s note: oh it’s just me being active and posting again!! so excited to be on break for the summer and finally have some free time! this was inspired by an experience i had with a friend and it was so fun to write, so please show some love by reblogginh or liking! leave some requests or messages in my inbox for fun! 🤍

———————————————————————

You pulled your coat around your shoulders as the chilly winter air nipped at your exposed skin, making the climb out of the Uber and the walk to your house that much more dreadful. Your night at your sorority formal had been a blast. This year, there was a masquerade theme and you had gotten lucky enough that your formal was on a non-hockey weekend so that you could invite your close friend, Luke Hughes.

The two of you had had a fun night with your sorority sisters and a few of his teammates who had been invited. Before you left, the drinks had been flowing at your pregame, so you had felt extra loose on the dance floor with Luke as your date.

“Thank you, have a good night,” you said to the driver. Luke quickly climbed out of the car to join you and speedwalk inside.

“I think the cold just completely sobered me up,” you grumbled.

Luke laughed from behind you. “Yeah, you did go a little hard after we finished our bottle of champagne.” You let out a soft groan at the reminder that you and Luke had been handcuffed to each other earlier in the night to complete your champagne and shackles challenge.

“I only had a one dirty shirley but I knew that stupid bottle of champagne would fuck me up,” you said, laughing as you recalled your tipsy self earlier in the night.

“I thought you handled it well, you only tripped three times walking in,” Luke teased. It wasn’t your fault that your best friend had made everyone drink the champagne in a race.

“Well, you knew I wasn’t going to lose to Luca and Bella in the drinking game!”

You and Luke reached the front door of your sorority house and you scanned in. Unsurprisingly, the house was empty, the other girls still at the formal venue or planning to stay with their dates for the night.

You shrugged off your coat and Luke hung it up on the coat rack in the closet along with his own. He had been over to your sorority house many times to study and hang out with you, so he knew where just about everything was.

“I was gonna bring some popcorn and those chocolate covered pretzels upstairs,” You called from the kitchen. Luke came in a moment later, still looking handsome in his button down and dress pants. You wouldn’t admit to it, but your eyes did linger on the contour of his muscles that was evident through his shirt. “I still can’t believe you’ve never seen Another Cinderella Story!”

“Jack and Quinn weren’t exactly interested in Disney Channel at that age, so blame them next time you see them,” Luke laughed. “How does this relate again?”

You huffed out a breath. “It’s a cultural masterpiece because Selena Gomez’s character goes to a masquerade ball where she dances with the Joey Parker, who is the celebrity in the movie,” you explained while walking up the stairs. Luke followed behind you, intently listening to your words. It was hard to ignore his eyes as he focused on you. “And since we just went to the masquerade dance, it’s a must!”

“So she’s the one playing Cinderella?”

“Yeah and she’s a really good dancer but her evil stepmother, who is played by Jane Lynch, of course, won’t let her be with him. It’s cinematic, I swear Luke.”

Luke’s eyes followed your form as you walked up the stairs. Your dress clung to you in all the right spots and your heels you had worn had made your legs look even longer than usual. He tried not to watch as your hair flowed behind you, the new style making him want to stare at you all night.

“Alright, I’ll get this masterpiece of a film set up, so get the snacks ready!”

Luke took a seat on your futon and you quickly clicked on Disney Plus to turn on the movie. You had started to feel too overdressed in your outfit, so you grabbed a pair of pajama pants and a Michigan hockey t-shirt to change into.

“Nice shirt,” Luke said when you walked back into your room. His eyes had gone straight to your shirt and seeing your choice of attire made him smile.

“Don’t be flattered, it was the first one in my drawer,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. You quickly grabbed a hair tie to put your hair up in a bun in front of your mirror. You didn’t expect Luke to be watching you as you turned back to join him where he was sitting.

“You look nice,” he said softly. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“In my pajamas?”

“You always look pretty, Y/N.”

You wanted to question what he meant but he turned away and focused back on the television. Recently, you had started feeling like yours and Luke’s relationship was bordering on the “more than just friends” line. He had made it a point to see you as much as he could, which ended up being just about every day. Your friends in your house had started teasing you more and more about how oblivious you were to Luke’s flirting.

You settled in next to Luke and shivered a little, pulling the blanket he grabbed closer to you.

“Come here,” Luke said, opening his arms for you to slide closer to him. The snacks still separated you from the hockey player. You told yourself it was just for warmth, that your sorority house had been known to be drafty in the wintertime.

“You cold?” You teased.

“No, but I know you always are. Your hands are always freezing and you wear, like three layers of clothing everyday, Y/N,” Luke joked. You couldn’t believe Luke paid attention to you like that.

Was it normal to have butterflies for your best friend during a Disney Channel Original Movie?

About an hour into the movie, lots of yelling at Jane Lynch, and one dance break later, you felt your eyelids start to droop. You sat up a little straighter, trying to stay awake to finish the movie with Luke but your night was catching up to you. You could feel him looking at you as you tried to stifle a yawn.

“We can save the rest of the movie for another day if you want,” Luke offered as he paused the movie.

You quickly shook your head. “I can’t leave you in suspense about what happens to Mary Santiago and Joey Parker, Luke. That would be a crime to DCOMs and to you.”

Luke pressed play once again, enjoying how excited you were about the movie and not wanting to miss spending any time with you. “You can rest your head on my shoulder if you want to, Y/N.”

You gave in, resting your head on Luke’s shoulder and cuddling up next to him. You weren’t sure what territory this put you into, since this seemed to be more intimate than anything you’d ever done before. You smelled Luke’s cologne as you moved closer, feeling his arm wrap around you as he welcomed your presence closer to him.

You knew you were a goner right then and there, because three minutes later, you were pressed against his shoulder letting out soft, steady breaths with your arm wrapped around Luke’s stomach. Luke didn’t notice you were asleep until a few minutes later, assuming you had just been watching the movie. He smiled at the sight of you curled up next to him and took in your facial features. After being friends for over a year, he had discovered so many things about you that made him want to be around you even more.

Luke let the movie run on, only half paying attention to what was happening. He had been excited when you asked him to be your date for the night, knowing that there were other guys, including a few of his teammates, who found you very attractive. He would have gone anywhere you had asked him, quite honestly, but the dance was fun and your post-dance plans of showing him one of your comfort movies only made his heart swell more. Even though dancing wasn’t his thing, he knew it was yours, and it made him excited just to see you happy.

Once the film was ending, he reached for the other blanket that was resting on the arm of the couch, not realizing that the remote was right there. The small black box clattered to the ground hit the side of the couch just right so that the sound went up, jerking you awake.

You were so surprised by the sound that you almost didn’t realize you had been asleep on Luke’s shoulder.

“Shit, I’m sorry!”

Luke quickly bent over to get the remote off the ground which gave you a minute to take in the song playing.

“Oh my god, did I fall asleep?” As a true DCOM fan, you knew that Selena Gomez’s song played at the end as the credits were rolling.

“Uh yeah, but not for long. You only missed her and Joey at the end,” Luke said. He placed the remote in between the two of you, since you had moved away from him in your haste to wake up.

“Gosh, I’m sorry Luke. I didn’t mean to,” you said, feeling embarrassed. You had spent the night trying to impress Luke and now you had probably drooled on his nice shirt.

“No, no don’t be. I was trying to cover you up with another blanket and I dropped it by accident.”

You both sat in an awkward silence before Luke cleared his throat.

“You’re cute when you sleep.” You rolled your eyes at his comment.

“I should’ve known my date was a stalker,” you teased.

“Thank you for inviting me, by the way. I had a really great time,” Luke said sincerely. You felt a flush on your cheeks.

“Even though I got a little too tipsy and fell asleep on you?” You questioned semi-seriously.

“Especially because you got tipsy and fell asleep on me,” Luke chuckled. “I’m glad you feel comfortable with me, Y/N.”

“Of course I feel comfortable with you, Luke. We’re friends.”

Luke quickly looked at you with a smirk on his face before huffing out a laugh and shaking his head. He wanted to say something, you knew all of his tells.

“What’s so funny?” You questioned.

“Nothing, I just wish we wouldn’t keep doing this song and dance. We’re worse than Mary and Joey, Y/N.”

Luke took your hand into his. “What do you mean Luke?”

Luke brought his hand to your cheek, the space between the two of you on the couch eliminated as he moved closer. His eyes dipped to your lips, silently asking you a question that you both already knew the answer to.

You nodded, leaning into his touch and pressing your lips against his. Cliche as it sounds, you felt like one of the girls in a Disney movie, kissing your Prince Charming.

Luke pulled away first to smile at you. “Took us long enough, huh? C’mere my Cinderella.”

You giggled and kissed him again, already planning your first anniversary and rewatching of Another Cinderella Story in your head.

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